Anastasia Romanov: The Last Grand Duchess #10 (8 page)

“It doesn't matter,” Maisie said. “You have to find where she put it and take it back.”

“I'm leaving right now,” Anastasia announced.

“I'm coming!” Felix said quickly.

But Maisie held on to his arm.

“Promise?” she said.

“Okay,” he said, shrugging her off.

“Do you want to write a play?” Anastasia asked Felix. “Then we can perform it for Mama and Papa.”

“Yes!” Felix said, ignoring Maisie's attempts to get his attention. “I love writing plays.”

“I have the lead in the school play,” Maisie said.

But Tatiana was already out the door, and Anastasia had linked arms with Felix again and was babbling about her big idea for a play, and Felix was nodding his head like a bobblehead doll.

“The lead!” Maisie shouted after them.

Anastasia turned toward Maisie ever so slightly, and—Maisie was certain—smirked at her!

“Hey!” Maisie said as Anastasia pulled the door firmly shut behind her.

“Harumph,” Maisie said, snuggling deeper into the fluffy white duvet.

She did not like Anastasia Romanov. Not one bit.

Much later that night, Maisie was awoken by a sound.

“Psssstttt.”

Maisie pulled the duvet up snugger around her.

“Psssstttt.”

What was that noise?

She opened her eyes and found the room swaddled in darkness. Except the light from the full moon that came in one window.

“Psssstttt,” she heard again.

The sound was coming from the closet.

Maisie frowned.

“Maisie,” came the voice from the closet. “Can you open the door? There's no handle in here.”

“No,” Maisie said, trying to sound brave even though she was trembling, “I will not open the closet and let a stranger out.”

“I'm not a stranger,” the voice said.

“Go away!” Maisie shouted. Panicked, her eyes searched the dark room for a weapon of some kind.

On the wall hung an ornate religious picture made of silver. It looked heavy enough to bop someone on the head good and hard, Maisie decided.

“Maisie,” the voice said again.

As quietly as she could, Maisie inched her way off the bed.

“Ouch!” she blurted, forgetting how badly her arm hurt.

“Your arm?” the voice said.

How did this person know about her arm?

Maisie tiptoed over to the wall and, with her good hand, lifted the picture from its place there. She looked down into the face of a holy-looking woman holding a baby, blue jewels sparkling in halos above their heads and Cyrillic letters written beneath them. To her satisfaction, the picture was pretty heavy.

“Maisie?” the voice said again.

“I'm coming,” Maisie said, hoping her voice didn't betray her fear.

How did a person get into the closet in the first place? And how did the person know her name? Something was very weird here.

Although it hurt a lot, she turned the knob of the closet door with the hand of her sprained arm, and lifted the icon up high with her good one.

She heard a rustling from the closet, and then a figure stepped out into the dark room.

Maisie brought the icon down as hard as she could on his head.

With a loud grunt, the figure fell to the floor.

Shaking, Maisie looked down into the face of Alex Andropov.

Chapter Seven

EASTER

“A
lex Andropov!” Maisie gasped.

“Why did you hit me?” Alex groaned, rubbing his head.

“I didn't know it was you hiding in my closet,” Maisie said.

Alex grinned up at Maisie.

“I knew when you spoke perfect Russian that there was something peculiar going on,” he said.

“Of course, I had no idea you were . . . time traveling,” he added, his eyes sweeping over the room.

“But how did you get here?” Maisie asked, still not quite able to believe that Alex Andropov was standing in her room at the Livadia Palace.

He pointed his thumb over his shoulder.

“Your trunk,” he said, obviously proud of himself.

Maisie remembered how the things in the trunk had appeared to shift when she'd opened it earlier. She remembered how heavy it was when she'd dragged it here. Alex had been inside the whole time.

“I got a little worried when that maid wanted to unpack it for you,” Alex chuckled. “But when she showed you to the bathroom, I climbed out and hid. Just in the nick of time, too, I might add.”

“But you're not a Pickworth,” Maisie said, confused.

“What's a Pickworth?”

“Phinneas Pickworth collected all of the items that allow us to time travel,” Maisie explained. “But you need to be related to him in order to do it.”

Alex shrugged. “Well,” he said, “here I am.”

“And you have to be a twin!” Maisie said, even more confused.

“Well,” Alex said again, “I'm not.”

“It doesn't make sense,” Maisie insisted.

“You hit me with a religious icon, you know,” he said, pointing to the silver icon Maisie still held. “Probably a very valuable one, too.”

Alex stood at the window and stared out.

“We're at the palace in Livadia, aren't we?” he asked, his voice soft and reverential.

“Yes,” Maisie answered.

Slowly, he turned to face her.

“I can't believe they were in here. Anastasia and Tatiana. And the Tsar himself.”

“And I can't believe you're in here,” Maisie said, unhappily.

Alex sat on the edge of the bed, looking thoughtful.

“Tell me,” he said. “Do you just come here? Is that why you speak Russian?”

Maisie didn't feel like explaining The Treasure Chest to Alex. In fact, she didn't feel like talking to him at all.

“It's complicated,” she said.

“Can you try to explain?” he persisted.

“Later,” she said. “For now, my arm hurts and I'm supposed to have it elevated.”

“But where should I go?” Alex asked.

“How should I know?” Maisie snapped. “You're not even supposed to be here!”

Thankfully, Felix knocked on her door just then.

“Who are you talking to in there?” he whispered.

He opened the door and started to enter the room. But as soon as he saw Alex Andropov, he stopped in his tracks.

“What are you doing here?” Felix said, his eyes wide with surprise.

“He hid inside the trunk!” Maisie said.

Alex grinned at Maisie and Felix.

“And he's not even a twin,” Maisie said, “never mind a Pickworth!”

Felix closed the door behind him.

“I guess he's stuck here now,” Felix said.

“Stuck?” Alex said, his eyes bright. “I've never been so happy in my life! I'm in my homeland, with my ancestors!”

“Take him to your room,” Maisie suggested. “I've got to get some sleep.”

“But how will I explain who he is?” Felix asked, exasperated.

“No need for you to explain anything,” Alex said. “I can explain my lineage to the Tsar myself. I will be welcome here as a Romanov.”

Felix was considering something. Maisie could tell by the way he scrunched up his face.

“You know,” he said, “somehow James Ferocious came back with us from Amelia Earhart's—”

“Amelia Earhart!” Alex interrupted. “So you time travel everywhere?”

Maisie waited for Felix to answer him.

But Alex kept talking.

“Have you met Julius Caesar?” Alex asked eagerly. “King Tut? George Washington?”

Felix ignored him.

“I never thought about it before, but technically James Ferocious shouldn't have been able to come back with us. I mean he's not a Pickworth.”

“That's true,” Maisie said.

“But when I tried to bring Lily Goldberg with me, it didn't work,” Felix said, remembering when he took Lily up to The Treasure Chest.

“There's something we don't understand, then,” Maisie agreed. “Because James Ferocious is at Elm Medona, and Alex Andropov is right here, right now.”

“Yes, he is,” Felix said.

Alex puffed his chest out, obviously delighted with himself.

“Well,” Maisie said, slowly, forgetting for an instant about the problem of Alex Andropov. “We brought James Ferocious back with us. Like when we got back from Hawaii, I found a seashell in my pocket.”

Felix nodded, thinking hard.

“Alex was in the trunk,” he said. “I guess that's all it took.”

Maisie looked sad. “If we had known that, we could have taken Great-Uncle Thorne with us.”

“Enough!” Alex said angrily. “Take me to the Tsar.”

“Now?” Felix asked. “It's the middle of the night!”

“I'll tell him I just arrived,” Alex said.

Felix sighed.

“I'll bring you to Olga. She'll know what to do,” he told Alex.

Maisie watched Felix and Alex leave. Then she got back in bed. But she couldn't go to sleep. She stared at the full moon hanging over the Black Sea until dawn broke, and finally, sleep came.

Olga seemed taken by Alex's story. “A long-lost cousin!” she said with delight.

But she refused to bother Papa with it that night. Instead, she showed Alex to a guest room, and brought him down to breakfast with her and the other Duchesses the next morning.

When Alex explained to the Tsar over breakfast who he was related to, the Tsar jumped to his feet and wrapped Alex in a big bear hug. Soon, Alex was joining the entire royal family on their morning swim in the sea.

Almost the entire family.

For most of that first week, Felix did not see the Empress or little Alexei, the Tsarevich. When he asked Anastasia about them she grew evasive.

“Oh, Mama likes to spend private time with him,” she'd say.

Or: “They have their own routines.”

Routines were the way of life here, Felix quickly learned.

Every morning, after a breakfast of bread and butter, everyone except the Empress and Alexei went swimming in the sea. Usually, the Tsar followed that with tennis while the Grand Duchesses knit or sewed or read until lunchtime. Lunch was the big meal, with a lavish spread of suckling pig, caviar, whole fish and smoked fish, soup, and fruit set out. After lunch, they went for long walks in the woods, always collecting treasures—twigs, nests, mushrooms, berries, flowers—for the Empress. Then it was teatime, followed by performances of the plays the girls wrote, or piano concerts, or poetry recitals. Supper was served late at night, and afterward everyone went off to bed.

The routine rarely changed, although a few times the Tsar took everyone by horseback to nearby villas. Felix found the sameness of the days comforting, and easily adapted to them. But he found himself more and more looking forward to those moments when he could be with Anastasia, writing little skits or just walking together on the grounds. By the end of the week, Felix knew that he had a big-time crush on Anastasia. And by the way she blushed when he spoke to her, or good-naturedly teased him, he thought she had a crush on him, too.

Meanwhile, Maisie spent all her time recovering in bed. Sometimes she heard the Empress and the Tsarevich talking together on the Empress's balcony, their laughter carrying in the breeze. By the end of the week, Maisie began to sit on her little balcony every afternoon. From there she would see the Empress driving a cart pulled by a pony around the grounds, or wandering in the gardens. She looked sad, Maisie decided. How could someone live in this beautiful palace, surrounded by such a big and loving family, and look so sad?

But even as she wondered this, Maisie realized the answer. Little Alexei suffered from hemophilia. And that was the source of the Empress's great sorrow.

At home, Easter used to be an egg hunt at the playground, Easter baskets filled with hot-pink and neon-green plastic grass with chocolate bunnies tucked inside, and a special brunch out somewhere nicer than the corner diner. No matter where they went, Maisie and Felix's father always got eggs Benedict, his fancy brunch order. The rest of them tried the restaurant's specialties, or something extra special like stuffed French toast or house-made sausage or crepes. They would pass families wearing Easter outfits—kids in matching clothes or women in big hats. But after brunch, they just went home and got back in their pajamas and played rounds of charades or hearts until their mother finally announced it was time to watch the old movie
Easter Parade
. Maisie and Felix groaned and complained, but eventually they got caught up in Judy Garland and Fred Astaire singing “A Couple of Swells” and the big finale of the song “Easter Parade.”

Their father could be counted on to do a terrible imitation of Peter Lawford singing “A Fella with an Umbrella,” and their mother could be counted on to beg him to stop, which he wouldn't. That was Easter at 10 Bethune Street.

Easter at Livadia Palace was an entirely different occasion, and Felix watched with great interest as the household prepared for the celebration.

Anastasia explained to him that in Russia, Easter was even more important and more fun than Christmas.

“More fun than Christmas?” Felix said in disbelief. “That's impossible!”

“You'll see,” she promised.

For several afternoons before Easter, Felix and Alex joined the four Grand Duchesses to make Easter eggs.

“Wow!” Felix said when he first saw some of the complicated, intricately decorated eggs. “At home we just stick hard-boiled eggs in dye!”

Alex gave a look of disgust.

“Some of us do,” he said. “Other families make traditional Easter eggs.”

Suddenly, he seemed very sad.

“What's the matter, Alex?” Felix asked him.

“I'm so happy to be here,” Alex said wistfully. “But I miss my babushka. You see, both of my parents died when I was very young, and it's just been Babushka and me for most of my life.”

“Your parents died?” Felix asked. “Both of them?”

Alex nodded.

“It was very sad, of course. But I was too young to even remember them. Babushka and I decorated traditional eggs every Easter. She makes the most beautiful eggs you can imagine.”

“You'll be back with her in no time,” Felix said.

To his surprise, Alex's face changed completely, from sadness to resolve.

“We shall see,” Alex said, turning his attention back to the egg he was painting.

Olga's hand on his arm brought Felix's attention back to the others at the table.

“I will teach you,” Olga said.

Olga showed Felix the tools he would need to use.

“These are the
kistkas
,” she said, picking up three different things that resembled pencils, but with wooden handles and copper tips. Each one was a different thickness.

“We just heat the tip over the candle like this,” Olga continued, demonstrating. “And when it's heated through we hold it gently against the beeswax.”

Felix watched her as she filled the
kistka
with the melted beeswax.

“Now I can draw my designs,” she explained.

“You are forgetting one very important detail,” Anastasia said.

“What's that?” Olga asked, concentrating on her decorating.

Alex laughed. “I think I know!”

Anastasia picked up a white egg from a basket at the end of the table, and a pin from a pincushion beside it.