‘So did we win or lose?’ he said at last.
‘I don’t know that either side could claim a victory. At the end of the day, our lines were still intact, and the French fell back. But Kutuzov ordered a withdrawal. The intention is to make a new stand somewhere further along the road, but I don’t know where. At all events, the army is still between the French and us.’
‘So why has Rostopchin removed all the city archives and treasures?’
‘As a precaution, I suppose,’ Anne said. ‘I don’t believe for a moment the French will be allowed to get this far, but if you’re worried, you and your friend can go away, now that I’m here to take care of Rose.’
‘I told you,’ he said, ‘they aren’t letting men leave the city. In my case, do you think I’d save my skin and leave Rose here?’
‘I don’t know what you’re likely to do,’ she retorted, then she sighed and looked away. There was no point in provoking him to a quarrel. ‘If you’re really worried, at the first sign of danger Parmoutier can take Rose to the Danilovs. They’ll take care of her. I don’t like to think of her travelling without the protection of a man, but it would be all right just as far as Tula.’
‘Anna–’ Basil began, and she met his eyes to read a message of even greater disaster there.
‘What is it?’ she asked, and felt a stirring of nameless alarm.
‘Mademoiselle – she – she isn’t here any more.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘I told you , when we came back from Tver there were barricades on the city gates. They were stopping every carriage. They told us that we could come back, but that we wouldn’t be allowed to leave again. Then Rose started asking questions, and Mademoiselle was answering her in French, trying to soothe her.’
He stopped, and swallowed. Anne saw his adam’s apple rise and fall in his thin neck.
‘Go on,’ she said into that deadly silence.
‘They must have heard her. Someone shouted out, she’s French, isn’t she? – and – and some other things, abusive things, and about Moscow being full of French spies. I said no, she was Belgian. I told them the Belgians hated the French just as much as we did. But they didn’t believe me. They wouldn’t even listen. They pulled her out of the carriage, said they were going to take her to the Governor for questioning. She – she didn’t make a fuss – for Rose’s sake, I suppose. She just–’ He stopped and swallowed again, his eyes wide and blank, as if seeing the scene again in memory. ‘She went with them.’
Anne’s mouth was dry. ‘Where did they take her?’
‘I don’t know. They made us drive on, because there were other coaches waiting.’
‘What have you done to try to find her?’
‘I went to the Governor, had a private interview with him. He was very good about it. He sent a party of police up there to the barricade, and arrested some people, and questioned them, but he didn’t find out anything. I asked for a search to be made for her, but he said he didn’t have the manpower, that there were more important things to do–’
‘More important?’
‘He said people were disappearing every day, leaving the city – how could he hope to find one French governess?’
‘Belgian!’ Anne suddenly shouted. ‘She was Belgian!’
Basil flinched, but went on speaking quietly. ‘We just hoped she’d come back on her own somehow. We told Rose she’d gone away for a few days to help the Governor interrogate spies, and she seems to believe it. She hasn’t asked anything, except when Mademoiselle is coming back.’
She was dead, Anne thought bleakly, dead for sure; dragged out of the coach by a mob… She took refuge in anger. ‘Of course your precious Jean-Luc managed to escape! He who is really French! He kept his skin whole!’
‘He kept his mouth shut. Anyway, he’s an actor. It’s no use blaming him, Anna,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s my fault, for not protecting her better.’
The confession took her aback, silenced her. She suddenly felt very tired. ‘Oh God,’ she said, ‘what’s happened to the world?’
Later, when Rose had gone to bed, the three adults gathered in the drawing-room. For once Anne did not object to Jean-Luc’s presence. It seemed natural in the circumstances to draw together, like threatened animals.
Anne said again, ‘I don’t believe that the French will reach Moscow. The army withdrew in good order, and though the losses at Borodino were heavy, they weren’t mortal. Our army is still well supplied, whereas Bonaparte’s grows weaker with every mile. Kutuzov will make a stand somewhere between Mozhaisk and here, and make an end of it.’
‘All the same…’ Basil said thoughtfully.
‘Yes,’ Anne concurred. ‘All the same, I should prefer for Rose to leave as soon as possible, if only we could think of a way. I could take her myself–’
‘It would be too dangerous,’ Basil said. ‘A gentlewoman travelling alone, without male escort. You’d be attacked and robbed before you’d gone ten versts. There are deserters and looters everywhere.’
Anne frowned in thought. The roads were dangerous, it was true – she had seen something of it at first hand. Better that Rose stay with her in Moscow than that she be the victim of deserters. Probably the French wouldn’t come; but if they did – she didn’t want her child frightened again, as she must already have been by the mob who murdered her governess.
‘I have an idea,’ said Jean-Luc suddenly. He fixed Anne with a steady eye. ‘I know you don’t like me–’ Anne’s lip curled involuntarily, and he flushed a little. ‘All right, I know you hate me – but at least you do know that I love Rose, and that she loves me.’
Anne shrugged. She had never been convinced on that point. ‘What of it?’
‘You must trust her to me. Yes! Listen! I can get her out. I am an actor, remember, and I specialise in playing women. When I am dressed as a woman, no one can tell the difference – no one\ I’ll get Rose past the barricades all right, disguised as a peasant woman, and take her wherever you like, and wait for you there.’
Anne was taken aback. ‘But – but what’s to stop you being robbed for the horses? They’ll still think you’re a defenceless woman.’
He grinned. ‘Ah, but I won’t be, will I? And I won’t take the horses. I’ll walk.’
‘Walk?’
‘We’ll put Rose on her pony, dressed in peasant clothes, and with a bundle tied on behind. Make the pony look as shabby as possible – daub it with mud, chop its coat to make it look mangy. And I’ll walk, leading her. There’ll be nothing to tempt a gang to attack us.’
‘But you can’t walk all the way!’
‘Once I’m clear of the city, I’ll get a cart of some kind, and harness the pony. You can give me money. I’ll take a pistol, hide it in my clothes. It’ll be all right. Once I’m past the city limits, everyone will help me. The peasants are very good to their own kind on the tramp. We can do it. But you have to trust me.’
‘I – I don’t know,’ Anne said doubtfully. ‘Maybe I ought to take her myself.’
Jean-Luc snapped his fingers with exasperation. ‘You couldn’t do it! Come, Anna Petrovna, use your brains instead of your feelings! You hate me, I know – but deep inside, you know that I love that child. I will take her to safety and keep her there, until you come.’ His glance took in both of them. Basil was pale and silent. It was his whole life that was about to leave him – his lover and his child – but he was staring necessity in the face.
There was a scratching at the door, and Mikhailo came in, with a piece of paper on his silver tray.
‘Excuse me, Barina, but one of the servants just brought this in. I thought you ought to see it.’