There had to be a way to keep them safe and out of sight. As I pondered the problem, the thought of keeping them out of sight stuck in my head and gave me an idea. I hurried to the schoolroom and began to pull things out of the cupboard. At the bottom of the pile, I found what I wanted: a set of trick boxes we’d used in a magic show to make small items disappear. Each box had a false bottom.
I took them back to my room and fit in as many jewels as I could, bracelets and rings, then closed the false bottom and added some of my own trinkets, a few necklaces and a broach, to the main part of the box. If anyone looked inside, they’d think I’d brought the boxes to hold the trinkets. The necklaces were too big, so those I put in a small evening bag. The boxes and the evening bag went into the bottom of my larger bag.
After that, I began opening the papers I’d taken, on the wild hope they might be records of some secret bank account in Paris or Boston, but they were just old records of my mother’s marriage to and divorce from her second husband and the original passport we’d used to come from Paris to Petrograd, with my mother’s name at the top and me and the two boys listed underneath. There were also some letters, including one from my father to my mother, which I quickly folded back up. I didn’t want to read it right then.
The last paper was an even older passport made out in the name of Martha Winsor. I stared at it, and at the dates, and realized that it was my mother’s original passport when she moved from America to France before she’d married my father.
Martha Winsor. Not Lise. I’d always suspected Lise wasn’t her real name because it didn’t sound American and she was so vague about her early life, but it was odd to have proof of it. I supposed it didn’t matter who she had been in an earlier life—she was Lise Mason to me—though I thought someday I’d like to find out more about what made her leave America and change her name. I added a photograph of her to the pile, and then I was done. I wanted to say goodbye to Raisa but I didn’t know if I could bear it.
I heard voices, so I went out into the hall to see Celeste coming up the stairs.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. She never came to the house. We always went there.
“I wanted to say goodbye,” she said. “We’re shutting the theater and going back to Estonia. I couldn’t leave without seeing you.”
After all that had happened, I was so numb I didn’t even feel shocked. Everything I loved about Petrograd was being chipped away bit by bit. I told myself I wanted them to be safe too, and that meant they needed to leave the city as well.
“How are you going to get there?” I asked. “I thought it was hard for people to leave.”
“The authorities have said Estonians can get exit visas easily, and they are encouraging us to go home because of all the shortages. I think it’s because we’re foreigners to them, and they don’t want us here any longer.”
That did shock me. There were so many Estonians in Russia; they were part of the culture. How could they not be wanted?
“We’ll come visit you in Estonia,” I said, my voice catching. “If you want us to.”
“You know you’d always be welcome. You’re like a daughter to us.” She hugged me. “I’ll pray for you,” she said. “I have to go. We’re trying to leave tonight.”
I nodded and put on a smile. “Be safe.” I watched her go and the tears started to fall. I let them, until there were none left. Everything was happening too fast and not fast enough.
I went downstairs to wait for Dmitri, trying to think only of the days ahead. I wasn’t going to think of anything else, I told myself. When he came in, he looked terrible. We went into the sitting room and he closed the door.
“What is it? Tell me!” I clasped my hands together and squeezed them, bracing myself.
He rubbed his face, and when he spoke his voice was trembling. That scared me more than anything. “There is a new law that was instituted today,” he said. “No one in the nobility will be allowed to travel out of the country. They are to stay here and either work for the state or be tried for their crimes against the people. It’s bad, Lottie. That means your stepfather can’t leave, and technically, neither can Stepan or the twins.”
Chapter Nineteen
I SAT DOWN, feeling as if a weight were pushing me into the floor. I couldn’t get my breath. It felt like my throat was closing up and all the air in the room had disappeared.
“Lottie! Lottie!” Dmitri was shaking me.
I looked up at him.
“Do you feel faint?” he asked. “You look like you’re going to be sick.”
I shook my head. “I didn’t believe Maria when she said the nobility would be put in prison. I can’t believe they aren’t letting children leave.”
Dmitri sat down beside me and took my hands. “I’d tell you and Hap and Miles to go without them, but I know you won’t.”
“No, I won’t.” I stood up. Enough was enough. “I was already planning to find a way to get them fake passports and exit visas.” I explained what I’d learned at the embassy. “We’re still going to get them fake paperwork. Stepan, too. We’ll change their names! No one will know they are part of the nobility. I mean, how important is the name you are born with anyway?” I laughed, feeling almost as giddy as the twins. “Martha, Lise, it’s all the same person.”
“Are you all right?” Dmitri frowned. “You’re not getting a fever, are you?”
“No. And Papa isn’t staying behind either. I have an idea. We have to talk to Yermak.”
Dmitri followed me down to the kitchen and I explained it all. Yermak went to his room to get what we needed. His clothes were far too big for Papa, but they made Papa look more like an old dvornik who’d once been an actor than an esteemed general of the imperial army.
“Are you sure, Lottie?” Papa asked more than once.
“I’m sure,” I said. “It’s the only way. It will just be temporary, only until we can figure out our next move.”
I convinced Dmitri to stay behind at the house while Papa and I went to the Tamms’.
When we got there, I explained what we wanted, and Celeste dragged out Hugo’s trunk and got out his identification papers.
“I don’t know if this is going to work,” Celeste said. “There will be a record that Hugo died.”
“Dmitri says it’s chaos right now, and the place where they keep the death certificates is different from where they issue the exit visas. No one is going to check. I know it. Papa looks enough like Hugo that they’ll believe these are his papers.”
Kalev looked at Papa and then at the picture of Hugo. He whistled. “She’s right, Celeste. It’s going to work.” He put his hand on Papa’s shoulder. “Just don’t speak much. Your accent isn’t Estonian.”
“I would like an exit visa,” Papa said, sounding as if he’d just arrived from Estonia. He chuckled. “I’ve listened to many accents over the years,” he added in his normal Russian accent.
We all stared at him. I’d never heard Papa do accents before.
“I’d almost forgotten I used to entertain the boys in my regiment by imitating them,” he said. “They came from all over, so I had many to choose from. They got so much amusement out of such a little thing. You all look so surprised. Perhaps I should have gone on the stage instead of into the military.” He chucked me under the chin. “Close your mouth, Lottie. You’re going to catch flies.”