Page 77 of A Swirl of Shadows
“Damnation,” muttered Arianna. “We need to find the captives and free them as quickly as possible.”
“I’ve some ideas on how we ladies can stall the ceremony.” Mrs. Schuyler turned and gathered a stack of folded clothing from within a sculpted wall niche. “I procured several of the habits and headcovers that the monks wear, Milord. They should allow you and your companion to move around without drawing attention,” she said on handing them to Saybrook.
“What a godsend,” quipped the minister, plucking a set from Saybrook. “Tell Prescott that the earl and I will begin our search of the tunnels through the access behind the silver sarcophagus of St. Alexander Nevsky. He should come join us as soon as he can make an excuse to absent himself from Orlov.”
Sophia held up the valise she was carrying. “We’ve brought along a wide assortment of feminine necessities—hair ribbons, lace fichus, face creams, jewelry. All men know that a lady can’t be rushed in dressing for a special occasion. We’ll have no trouble delaying the ceremony.”
“Take us to where Tatiana is being held,” said Arianna. “Sophia will wait with her while you escort me to Prince Orlov so I may deliver my box of chocolates to him—and then, of course, I’ll do some reconnaissance in this part of the compound on my way back to the bride.”
“It’s a pity you’re too principled to have added poison to the fillings,” muttered Sophia. “The brute deserves no less.”
“Indeed, but poison would simply be murder,” she replied. “We’re here to prove his guilt and stop him from doing yet more evil. How to mete out justice is for others to decide.”
Grentham had already shifted into the shadows. “Come, let us begin putting our plan into action.” Looking to Mrs. Schuyler, he added, “Tell us where you and the ladies will be. We’ll come to fetch you once we’ve freed the prisoners. The sleigh will be waitingin the courtyard facing Nevsky Prospect.”
The American gave him the directions.
Saybrook caught Arianna’s eye. Their hands came together in a quick squeeze. “Godspeed,” he whispered
“And you,” she replied, watching for an instant as he disappeared into the darkness, and then turning her thoughts back to her own role.
“This way,” said Mrs. Schuyler.
A side portal led from the church vestibule into one of the monastery buildings. Their steps echoed off the bare stone walls of the corridor, the oppressive gloom and frigid cold so palpable that Arianna found it hard to draw a breath. Several turns brought them to a narrow stairwell. The three of them climbed up to the next landing where two burly, bearded monks stood guarding a closed door.
They stepped aside without a word, allowing the ladies to enter.
Tatiana was standing by a small window. Aside from two lanterns set on a wooden table, it was the only source of light in the cell. She turned, but despite looking pale as death, there was a spark in her eyes.
“Thank Heavens you made it through the storm. I was beginning to fear that I might . . .”
Arianna saw a glimmer of steel as Tatiana lifted her skirts and tucked a tiny dagger into the sheath strapped to her calf. “I vowed that no matter what happened, I would never, ever be Prince Orlov’s wife.”
“It won’t come to that,” said Arianna firmly. “Sophia has brought a collection of furbelows to help keep the would-be groom at bay until we’re ready to make our escape. Mrs. Schuyler is now going to escort me to Orlov so I may present him with a box of chocolates. She’ll be back shortly and I’ll return once I’ve had a chance to look around the main level of the cathedral.” She didn’t really expect to find any signs of Fitzroy and Wolff, but she wasn’t going to take any chances.
“In the meantime, put yourself in a state of feminine disarray, so they won’t dare make you leave the cell,” she added as she and the American moved for the door.
“Now that you mention the cathedral, I almost forgot to tell you something I overheard this morning,” said Tatiana. She hesitated. “It’s probably a little foolish . . .”
Arianna stopped and looked back over her shoulder. “Go on.”
“You asked me the other night about The Redeemer,” said Tatiana. “Well, this morning Bishop Sergius was telling Prince Orlov that he must kneel before The Redeemer and offer up prayers for the success—”
“Did he saywhoThe Redeemer is?” demanded Arianna.
“It’s not a “who”—it’s an icon,” answered Tatiana. “A very old and holy one painted by the legendary Andrei Rublev that is located in a special arched niche behind the sanctuary of the cathedral.”
Arianna felt a sudden prickling—like dagger points dancing down her spine.Was it possible. . .
Tatiana gave an apologetic shrug. “I’m sorry—I know it was silly of me to mention it.”
“Not at all,” Arianna assured her. “One never knows when a seemingly random clue may turn out to be the key to unlocking a conundrum.” Ignoring the basilisk stares from the monks as she and Mrs. Schuyler left the room, they headed back down the stairs.
“Take me to Orlov, so I can play my part as the featherheaded English wife in this charade.” Arianna shifted the box of chocolates in her hands. “And then get me into the cathedral unseen.”
They reached the end of the corridor and passed through a doorway into an outdoor courtyard.
“Do you think—” began the American, as they bent their heads to the wind and hurried through the blowing snow.
