Chapter 3
St Petersburg
Soviet Russia
February 1923
This was it, Claire thought to herself. This was what Irina had been talking about.
For the two and a bit months that she'd been living and working there, St Petersburg had felt like the breath of fresh air that she'd needed. Her new job with Irina's cousin not only gave her both a sense of purpose and structure, but also came with a comfortable room (the best she ever remembered having) and a wage that she kept safe in her bag.
Not having to share either of those things with anyone felt so good.
What also felt good were the meals provided by Irina's cousin, Galina. They were just as delicious as Irina's, and came with the added benefit of being regular. Galina had said it was good to see a skinny little thing starting to put more meat on her bones (especially, she said, if she was only just under a month away from turning eighteen) – something Irina had often commented on.
It was almost strange how much the two bakers resembled each other, though. The way they talked, walked...even some of their little mannerisms, like tutting!
Claire put it down to them growing up close together. She wished that she had someone as close to her as a sister...
Well, for all she knew, she did. It might have been a sister waiting for her in Paris!
And the French capital rarely completely left her mind. It was her goal, and getting enough money to go was her incentive to work hard – she got up early to stoke the fires for the ovens, and then she took deliveries out over the city for most of the day.
More often than not, she took Galina's dog Chester along as well. The little Pomeranian seemed to enjoy riding on the back of the bike, while the cakes and pastries balanced in the basket at the front.
And that was how Claire found herself that particular morning, as she rode past the old palace where the Imperial Family used to live.
Claire had gone past the derelict Imperial palace many times since arriving at St Petersburg, but she'd never loitered at its gates for long. Something about it made her terribly uneasy, almost as if there was some monster hiding in there, waiting to pounce on her.
But at the same time...
Oh, how she itched to go in and take a peek!
She knew it was supposed to be forbidden, but she'd seen people coming in and out before. Most of them were squatters, looking for a roof to put over their heads on cold winter evenings. Once or twice she'd seen small groups of women – all of them fair haired, with sharp features and full lips – trudging through the snow on their way out.
There was nothing of value left inside the palace anymore. The Revolution had stolen aristocracy of its privilege, and whatever jewels or valuable item that had been found, had either been pilfered to sell in the black market, or destroyed. She wasn't interested in taking anything that didn't belong to her, at any rate – her fascination with the palace had been born of a dream.
Or better said, a nightmare.
A memory, perhaps?
It was hard to tell. All she remembered of it were flashes – a lot of noise, some gunfire...a warm hand pulling her along through a tunnel into the cold street...
Whose hand, though?
She looked at the outline of the palace. There must have been lots of tunnels in that place that only staff knew about. That was probably how they'd gotten out – through the kitchens or a basement or something, into a side street.
And again, it left her at the same conclusion.
Servants. They must have been servants.
Maybe the necklace wasn't even hers? She didn't recall getting it. Maybe it was supposed to belong to one of the deceased princesses, and someone had put it on her to make sure it got out of the palace?
Maybe she wasn't the adored girl the person in Paris was waiting for? Maybe she'd turn up expecting a family, and find only a confused stranger, wondering where their loved one was?
Who knew? All she could do was...
… follow Chester, who had jumped down from the back of the bike and was bolting towards the palace!
Leaving the bike tied to the fencepost with the pastries covered over (it would be a miracle if they were there when she got back), she took off after him.
"Chester! Chester, get back here!" she had to pause and catch her breath, before continuing with a groan. "Stupid dog! Chester!"
But the little dog didn't listen. He had spotted an open door, and he had the kind of determination about him that was usually reserved for someone at least five times his size. He used his tiny snout to nose his way in, making the gap large enough for his body to get through and his fur to file in accordingly as the actual dog trotted into the building.
Claire wasn't far behind, though. She grabbed the door handle and pulled, peering around into the gloom for any sign of the dog.
"Chester?" she called out, wanting to groan again. Galina was going to kill her, and it would be worse than if it was from Ekaterina because Galina would kill her with her disappointment. "Chester, come on! We've gotta go!"
She was answered by a tiny bark, far down the corridor.
Sighing, Claire went to it. She kept an ear out for the sound of tiny claws on old, echoing wood floors, and as she went she gazed around the place.
A lot of the paintings – old landscapes and long dead royals – still littered the place. Most because they'd been damaged the night the Revolution had come, but some because they were too big to manoeuvre.
Although she did see more bullet holes and splashes of dried blood than practically untouched (if a little torn) landscapes.
Looking at them made her feel odd. Like she'd seen them when they were still in perfect condition and the corridor was full of sunlight, not boarded up windows and discoloured patches on the wall where pieces of other people's lives had sat.
Her Mama must have been a maid, and had taken her around the palace as she'd cleaned. Early in the morning, probably, before the royal children got up and she got some playtime to herself...
That was it, that must have been what she was remembering.
She had to shake herself away from the empty walls. There wasn't anything there anymore, and even if her parents had been somewhere around there in the past, there wouldn't be any more trace of them.
Servants weren't important enough for that.
So she refocused her efforts on finding Chester. Galina might not like her going into the palace when it was usually filled with all kinds off the street, but to get her dog back, it had to be done.
And she could hear him, at any rate, just ahead of her through a set of large, worn (and once ornate) doors...
She crept along softly, hoping he was just the other side so that she could take him by surprise.
But when she burst through (her cry of "Aha!" and scooping up air now feeling redundant and a little embarrassing), she was surprised to find herself in a much larger place than she'd expected.
It was a ballroom. A fine ballroom, with floors that would have been polished until they shone, and had a glistening chandelier, and people dancing long into the night...
People she could almost imagine, if she tried hard enough. Princes in fine coats, Princesses in flowing dresses, all caught up in the rhythm of the fine orchestra...
They twirled and spun in her head, until Claire started spinning, too. And she kept going, until she almost crashed into the remains of the fallen chandelier, stripped of its precious metals and stones.
For some reason, a vivid memory of that very same chandelier hovering over her, alight with a thousand candles and jewels glittering nicely in the warm light, surfaced in her mind.
The Great Hall (why did she feel that was the room's name?) seemed to somehow reverberate with the echo of a ghostly music. A music that had been played inside those walls, but that had died alongside its last occupants. Claire had to close her eyes, and when she opened them again, she found herself in the middle of a wonderful ball.
The enormous room was packed with beautiful men and women, all clad in exquisite gowns and suits. The women all wore dresses made of rich fabrics, embroidered with pearls and threaded with gold or silver. Their jewels and dazzling kokoshnik tiaras only completed their outfits.
But no outfit shone more than that of who Claire could only suppose was the Tsarina.
She was... utterly gorgeous.
Her dress, made of cloth of silver and decorated with diamonds and sapphires, flowed nicely as she danced the night away; C.C. was impressed that she could balance her massive imperial crown (made of pearls and diamonds) while dancing!
It was a fantastic sight to behold, and Claire felt a sense of...warmth? Welcome? Maybe the Tsarina had overseen her parents' hiring, and had been nice to them? Maybe she remembered the Tsarina being nice to her as well?
Perhaps she'd been allowed to stay up, and help out at balls?
And that had been the night that it had all happened...
It made her hurt to think of it, although she wasn't sure why.
And it hurt even more when the Tsar came into view. They must have been good employers, and treated her parents well.
Though the longer she looked at the Tsar's face, the more she had an urge to cry...
The way he was smiling at his wife... Claire felt like she'd seen that look before, but directed...
... directed at her.
But it was ridiculous! It had to be ridiculous! Right?! Why would the Tsar of all Russia give her so much as a second of his time? Much less smile at her as if she were the most wonderful treasure in the entire world.
But still... there was something painfully familiar about him, and it was breaking her heart in half.
Claire stood there, entranced, just looking at the Emperor and the Empress dance, and eventually both of them looked in her direction on smiled warmly at her – smiled as if they were expecting her. They glided to her, their smiles growing brighter, and C.C. growing smaller. She... she was a girl again! And the Tsar... he was inviting her to take his hands and dance...
Dance on his shoe-
"Hey, you!"
Claire opened her eyes.
Huh? Since when had they been shut...?
The ballroom was back to its state of decay – the chandelier was still smashed on the floor, the curtains that remained were all ripped and torn...there were no dancing nobles.
Especially not a smiling couple, who looked at her as though she was the most welcome sight on the planet.
But there was another person there.
A young man, a few years older than she was, with sandy blonde hair and bright blue eyes.
And he was staring at her, far too close.
With a yelp of fright, Claire leapt backwards. She'd heard about what young men could do to women – often wanted to do to women – if they were alone, but she knew how to defend herself.
What she hadn't learned from growing up in an orphanage, she'd discovered while working. A kick in the crotch was just as good as poking a man in both his eyes, as long as it got you out of there.
That was what Galina had said. Luckily she'd never had to use either so far.
But all of that might have been about to change.
At least, if the man hadn't thrown up his hands in defence and had started to back off.
That...wasn't the reaction she'd been expecting...
But it gave her time to straighten herself up. She was still on the defensive, but now at least part of her thought that she didn't have to be, quite so much. The man was certainly not making any advances on her. Not even the lurid kind that most young men did these days, when she cycled past them...
"Forgive me," he said instead, and gave a low bow. "I had not meant to do so, I was just...startled by someone else being here..."
Claire narrowed her eyes, "You're telling me."
Her slightly abrupt answer, born out of fear and suspicion, seemed to surprise him.
But he didn't get the opportunity to answer back before Claire continued.
The comment seemed to bother the young man, but he hid his annoyance under a complacent smile.
"I used to live here back in the day," he replied matter-of-factly, an air of self-importance about him that irked Claire to no end.
Claire scoffed at the man, folding her arms over her chest. He had the gift of gab alright, but did he really thought her to be that stupid? She knew his type – they were all charm and smiles, but the moment they got what they wanted, they left you out in the cold without giving it a second thought.
Well, if he thought she was some naive gullible girl, he had another thing coming!
"Oh really?" she said, a hint of sarcasm showing in her words. "What kind of servant were you then?"
That really made his face fall, and Claire was delighted.
"Oh, come on – you didn't think I was gonna mistake you for a Romanov, did I?" she continued amusedly, folding her arms. "You'd've been found out by now, especially coming right back to the old palace..."
She began to pace, feeling like she had some kind of upper hand.
He was actually looking fairly annoyed at her in return. And she didn't know what it was, but for some reason she enjoyed that very much.
"Well...so what if I'm not entirely a Romanov? I still lived here," the man argued back, slightly pathetically. "I often conversed with the great Dowager Empress herself, and had the great fortune of setting my eyes upon the Grand Duchess Chastity-Claire..."
Claire looked at him in confusion as he trailed off, trying very hard to sound impressive (but falling very short).
"Who's that?" she asked.
The stranger blinked back at her, a hint of nervous laughter in his throat, "Who's who?"
"The 'Grand Duchess Chastity-Claire' that you just mentioned," Claire answered.
She'd never heard of that princess. She was going to ask if it was an attempt at trying to impress her (it was, admittedly, creative – considering most men just settled for yelling about how large their private parts were).
But his face became just as confused as hers before she could.
"The Grand Duchess Chas..." he trailed off, cocking his head to one side. "You don't know?"
The way he said it was definitely real shock, that much Claire could tell.
There must really have been a princess with that name, and she didn't remember...
So she shook her head, pointing awkwardly to the back of her skull, "I, uh...had an accident as a child. I hit my head, and it's kind of...messed with my memory."
The man's face took on a look of understanding.
"Oh...!"
He then pursed his lips as he looked around the room. Claire followed his eyes, until he seemed to have found what he wanted.
"Ah, there it is! There's a portrait of her just over here," he beckoned for her to follow as he walked off. "Come on, I'll point her out."
Claire hesitated, but went. She stayed a good distance behind him all the way, though.
And soon, they were stood in front of an enormous painting of the royal family. And, right at the front, was a little blonde girl no older than ten that Claire never remembered seeing before.
Even if she did look familiar...
The man looked between her and the portrait. And again. Several times.
And each time he looked, the deeper it sank in.
This woman was almost a complete grownup replica of the little Grand Duchess! They had the same hair, the same eyes, the same jawline (though the child's looked fatter – both due to her young age and to much a heartier diet).
And it struck him. He'd been looking for a replica Grand Duchess to fob off on the Dowager Empress in exchange for her reward (ten million rubles to anyone who found her granddaughter) for so long now! And this strange, slightly confused woman was his chance!
"She was the youngest daughter of the last Tsar," explained the man, coming closer to Claire, eyes focused on her face. "Barely a girl when the Revolution broke out, but somehow she escaped..."
Claire wasn't sure that she liked how close he was. It was one thing to be telling her all about this princess she'd never heard of, but if he could do it from at least a couple of feet away, she might feel better about it...
Could he stop staring at her like that?! It was so intense, it was almost like he wanted to-
"Niles! I'm back!"
The nasal voice was kind of a relief, even though up close Claire was certain it would grate (it didn't so much echo around the room as ring). But it meant that the man – clearly Niles, if the addresser had been speaking to him – turned away from Claire and towards the stairs.
They were joined by a thin brunette woman, carrying what was probably a paper bag full of groceries, and wearing the biggest beaming smile as Chester, finally deciding to show himself, trotted down alongside her.
"Ah, Miss Fineova!" Niles grinned back and brought his hands together in a loud clap. "I have some exciting news!"
Claire pointed to Chester, "And she has my dog...!"
The woman called Miss Fineova looked both surprised and happy.
"Oh, is 'e yours?" she asked, coming forward so the dog would move as well. "I found him wanderin' around upstairs, I was afraid he was lost all by himself...!"
The little dog woofed happily. Claire knew that he would never get lost – even if he didn't know where he was, the Pomeranian had too much self-confidence to do anything other than what he liked, and that included going places without a care in the world.
Not that Niles appeared to be concerned with that.
He'd hurried over to Miss Fineova, and placed his hands on her shoulders.
"Forget about the dog for a moment," he told her excitedly. "I think I might've found her!"
Miss Fineova looked at him in shock which quickly became awe, which quickly mirrored Niles' own expression.
"Ya think so?!"
"I do think so," Niles patted her shoulders, and they both looked over his shoulder at Claire.
She only stood there in return, not quite understanding what they meant.
"Who have you found?"
Niles very nearly laughed, the question was so innocent. Depending on how she took to the idea he was about to suggest, he might have to alter the plan because of it.
"Why, the Grand Duchess Chastity-Claire, of course!" he cried out, throwing his arms wide briefly before moving to grab her hands. "What do you remember? You said you hit your head, but you must have an earliest memory – what is it?"
All of that information at once overwhelmed Claire, and she tried to step away and take her hands back.
"I don't know!" she shook her head. "It was a long time ago, and I was raised in an orphanage that most who grew up there would want to forget!"
"But how old were you when you landed at the orphanage?" asked Niles, his light-blue eyes glinting (Claire was still too naive to realise that the spark in his eyes, was greed). "You weren't there all your life, were you?"
Claire's brows knitted together into an unsure furrow. The man... she didn't like the way this young man was talking to her. And she certainly disliked his over enthusiastic way of addressing her! Part of her wanted to turn and leave – by now a trip back to the bakery was certain; she was sure none of the treats were still in the basket when half St Petersburg was starving – but at the same time...
She'd be lucky if the bike was still there, if she was honest.
She took another step away from him, and clicked her fingers for Chester to come to her. The dog, annoyingly, seemed to consider not moving. It was like the thought they had a purpose there.
He probably just liked Miss Fineova.
But he could like her from afar. The part telling her to go was growing.
"I got there when I was twelve, okay?" she answered. "Or thereabouts, anyway. I only just remember my own birthday..."
But not the people who'd given it to her, she thought bitterly.
Twelve, Niles thought. It could work – the Grand Duchess had been about twelve when she'd disappeared...
This was an opportunity that was too good to pass up. If he got a few more answers out of her, they could really set something up! It could be like something out of a fairy tale. A young princess, loved and adored, is tragically separated from her family when disaster strikes. She is sent to a cold and unfeeling orphanage, beaten and starved, and made to work until she is either kicked out or runs away. And then, she meets someone (a rather dashing someone) who recognises her, and who vows to try and return her to her family. She gets them back, he gets the reward money that he then shares with his cohort. Everyone wins, and they all live happily ever after.
Of course, he had to say something to make sure she didn't leave before he could explain all of this!
He was just about to reach out and tell her how sorry he was for her ordeal, but Miss Fineova came forward, her sympathetic instincts taking over.
"Oh, honey...!" she cried out, at the girl's side in an instant with her hands on her shoulders. "I'm so sorry! I can't even imagine how ya feel about all o' that!"
No, she really couldn't, Claire thought. She barely knew herself – it was too many feelings all at once.
Sadness. Fear. Sometimes a burning sense of unfairness and injustice that she didn't quite understand...
But the woman – Miss Fineova – was trying her hardest, anyway. She looked a nice person, despite her dilapidated surroundings and the man with her that Claire supposed had to count as company on a technicality.
And when Claire lowered her eyes to the floor, she took it as sadness at the statement presented.
"What's yer name, sweetie?"
"Claire."
She thought she heard Niles take in some kind of half-gasped-half-choked breath behind her, but she didn't ask about it. She had a feeling he was going to explain anyway.
"It's like this was fated to happen!" he exclaimed softly, clasping his hands. "What a glorious day!"
Fran, who had quickly caught up with Niles's thought process, looked between the girl and the portrait of the lost Grand Duchess – they were practically clones! Not only that, but they also shared at least one of their names and had the same age.
This was a gift from fate!
But judging by the unsure look on the girl's face, Niles and Fran were quick to realise they had to tread with care. They didn't want to scare off their ticket out of Russia and into a life of riches.
"Miss Claire," Fran said, sliding her arm around the girl's shoulders, "what do you remember before the orphanage? Why are you here now?"
Claire, despite knowing she should be running for the hills rather than talking to these two strangers, couldn't help but snuggle a little into Miss Fineova's embrace.
No one had held her like that in so long...
And somehow, that was enough for Claire to start talking.
"I... I don't really know," she said, "I remember... feelings, rather than concise events. I remember fear, and heartbreak and death..."
Gunshot deaths. So many of them...
Just the thought of that was starting to choke Claire up.
"I think...I think that my parents were there," she told them as Miss Fineova escorted her to the one piece of furniture in the room that wasn't ruined - an old, worn couch. "The night that the Tsar was..."
It hurt to say "murdered", even though that was the word that came to mind. She let a sniff come out, a slight mist coming over her eyes.
Miss Fineova saw, and pulled her into more of a hug.
"Oh, sweetie!" she rubbed her back. "Let it all out, yer with friends..."
Friends. Even at the orphanage, apartment from Irina, she wouldn't have ever said she'd really had friends. The other orphans had been allies, yes, but...well, friends were a luxury you couldn't entirely afford when a place at the dinner table and food was on the line.
And maybe...maybe they could help? If they knew at least a little more about the royal family than she did, then maybe they'd know something about the servants, too? Niles had said he'd lived there – maybe he remembered a little girl following a maid around?
The feeling of hope caused the tears to come.
"I...I just want to know who I am!"
Fran held the girl close and wrapped her in a tight hug, letting her bury her face in the crook of her neck. She rubbed her back as she cried, genuinely touched by her pain.
She was still going to try and convince her to go to Paris, not to get her wrong, but maybe it would also be good for this young girl – they would get the money, and Claire would get a family. She didn't really mind where she came from; if it made the Dowager and the girl happy, then Claire's true identity could remain lost to the ages and it wouldn't matter.
Niles, however, was a little less... understanding. He was visibly unnerved – it was her crying. She hated hearing people cry around him. Fran, upon noticing the look on his face, gave him a warning glare.
It soon made his expression soften, and with a sigh that was easily disguised as one of sadness at her predicament, he knelt on the floor in front of her.
"I think that we...might be able to assist in this matter."
It made the girl slow her crying, anyway. She angled her head more so that she could peer at him through tear-stained eyes.
She sniffed again, and wiped some golden strands of hair out of her face.
"You...you will?"
Niles offered her a smile, thinking better of chancing patting her on the knee.
"Of course we will," he told her. "Now, to start off with, can you maybe, um...describe who you feel your parents might have been? To narrow it down at all?"
Claire thought about everything she had concluded in her head. She never felt she'd get the chance to explain it to anyone...
"I...they must've been servants. A-A maid and a valet, or something like that..."
A maid and a valet, or something like that!
She should have been thinking far higher than that. Wasn't the solution her mind was clearly avoiding something that young women thought about on a regular basis? Not that he was going to say such a thing aloud. He'd get another look from Fran, and he was certain he didn't need two of those looks in the same day.
But he knew a way around the issue, without winding anyone up. It was something he remembered himself, and his own memory was perfect.
"Well, Miss...I can certainly inform you that no servant in the house was married to another, and there were no young children taken in," he said, before making his expression more knowing. "Most of the children – five out of the six – belonged to the Tsar."
"And was I the sixth child?" asked Claire, a glimmer of hope in her teary eyes.
Niles shook his head.
"I am afraid not, Miss Claire, the sixth child was myself," Niles said.
Claire's face fell.
Had... had she been wrong? Had every single thing she'd believed about her family been wrong? Perhaps... perhaps she'd only dreamed about being at the palace. Perhaps she was just a lost girl, who had never stepped foot inside the Winter Palace, nor met the Tsar and the Tsarina of Russia.
Maybe she should stop trying to unravel a past that was so stubborn in its desire to remain enshrouded in shadows.
"Oh..." spoke C.C. softly, pulling away from Fran. She had to get going. She had work to do. Even if she now was unsure about there being someone waiting for her in Paris at all. "I see..."
"However," continues the young man, moving to stand in front of Claire, so she wouldn't stand up to leave, "I still think I saw you around..."
Fran and Niles exchanged a look.
They were going through with this.
"... Your Imperial Highness."
At first, Claire wasn't sure she'd heard him correctly. But it slowly sank in that he wasn't saying anything else, he was just letting her take in what he'd said.
Imperial Highness...
He thought she was...a Grand Duchess?! This missing one that they'd pointed out to her in the painting?! Why did they think so? What evidence apart from a few coincidences did they have?
She wasn't special. She was just little Claire, orphan and amnesiac, who'd managed to get out and find work at a bakery.
It was all so ridiculous, she had to laugh a little bit about it.
"What are you talking about?" she shook her head. "I'm not–"
"Think about it harder, my lady," Niles insisted, sensing disbelief. "Think about how the facts have to add up!"
"Yeah!" Fran supported her friend and associate, "Ya two have the same age, ya remember the palace and being a child here, you look exactly the same..."
"Frankly, this cannot be a coincidence!" Niles said, coming closer to Claire. They had planted doubt in the girl's heart, and they both knew it.
Perfect.
She'd be willing to follow whatever they said in no time at all. They'd coach her on everything she needed to know, they'd take her to Paris and collect their reward money.
Everyone would win, even if it wasn't exactly entirely the truth.
Claire, meanwhile, was feeling a tingling numbness coming over her.
Princess...they were saying she was a princess, and the evidence added up! She couldn't deny that it all made sense, even though she couldn't believe it!
It had to be true. Didn't it?
"No...it can't be a coincidence, can it?" she said, more to herself than to them.
She didn't notice Niles and Fran exchange a look of triumph.
They had her, that was certain.
"Not at all, Your Highness," said Niles with a flourished bow, "You are, without the shadow of a doubt, Grand Duchess Chastity-Claire."
Claire – or was it Chastity-Claire now? – felt weak in the knees. For years she'd dreamed of having a loving home and a warm family to return to. She'd fantasised about finding them and holding them close...
But now... now she knew that wasn't possible.
They'd all been murdered. All of them. She'd recovered a family only to lose it again!
She closed her eyes and buried her face in her hands. She began to make sense of some... memories?... loose fragments of her dreams – fire, gunshots, the sense of loss...
Had she... had she watched them die? Her mind wouldn't surrender much information, but deep within she felt she had.
And somehow she'd survived.
Tears, this time born of sorrow, trickled down her cheeks, and her frail body shook with loud sobs.
Niles and Fran were struck with a kind of confused panic that they hadn't expected. The girl had just been told that she was a princess and she was crying?! That wasn't the reaction that most people would have!
"Sweetie, what's with the tears...?" Fran asked, moving to hold her again if she had to. "This is a happy moment!"
"Yes," Niles agreed, clutching at his own hands. "You're a princess, there is nothing to be upset about with that!"
Claire shook her head, "You don't understand!"
Niles blinked, "Begging your pardon, Your Imperial Highness, but what is there to not understand?"
"My family is dead!" Claire screamed. "The Romanovs were wiped out, which makes me the last! I've waited my whole life for a family and the minute I have one, it's taken away from me! What the hell do I have to be happy about?!"
She had nothing. What was the use in being told you had a family if they were all dead and you'd never meet them? It was about the same use as being the princess of a country that didn't have a monarchy anymore.
She didn't see the look Niles and Fran gave each other, before he answered.
"But you do have family, Your Imperial Highness!"
That seemed to partially stop Claire's crying. What did they mean? If they were about to give her that crap about her family living in her heart she might just as well leave. She had no interest in supposing that she'd been loved. She had no use for a family she couldn't even remember...
A family she wasn't entirely sure was hers.
Still, thinking of the Tsar's – her father's? – face or looking at his painting... hurt. And she couldn't quite explain why.
"What do you mean?" she asked, wiping away her tears.
Niles and Fran smiled at each other.
It was showtime.
"There is someone waiting for ya," said Fran.
"Your grandmother," completed Niles, "The Dowager Empress Marie Feodorovna. She lives in Paris now, and has been looking for you."
Her grandmother...was waiting for her...
In Paris?
She scrambled into her clothes, pulling out her pendant before Fran and Niles could wonder what she was doing. She turned it over, and read the back, even tracing it with her finger. It was real – she hadn't imagined it, and now...now it could make sense...
"I've had this pendant for as long as I can remember," she said. "It was the only thing I made sure could've be taken from me. The only connection to my past. And it says "Together in Paris" on the back..."
Niles and Fran both blanched.
Where did she get a necklace like that?! And it said Paris on it?! There was someone out there who'd made her a promise to meet her in Paris?!
Well...maybe they'd be there still, and maybe they wouldn't be? It had been a long time, and they might not even recognise Claire. They might be able to get away with taking her to the Dowager Empress instead, and have these other people none the wiser...
That was what they'd do. They'd make sure she was introduced to Marie right away when they got to France.
Of course, she had to have a few lessons first. The main two would be elocution, to give her the proper vocabulary and mannerisms, and her 'family's' history, so that she didn't slip up or draw a blank when it came to remembering names, dates or faces. They'd have to explain that her memories had suddenly come back to her, and many were still returning. It might hold them for some of the things that she wouldn't know, but it was better to be safe than sorry and help her revise the rest.
And they had to start as soon as possible. There wasn't any time to be wasted.
At least, there wasn't to Niles.
"Well, that's all the proof needed then, isn't it?" he asked, trying hard to conceal how eager he was. "We'd better get you prepared to meet your grandmother right away!"
Claire began to smile. Her grandmother. Her actual grandmother – a living relative, who'd been looking for her!
And if she'd given her the pendant, promising they'd be together, then she must have loved her very much...
It was exciting to think that she could know her so soon! After all that time!
But...she had to tell Galina first. She couldn't just leave without letting the baker know where she'd gone!
Plus, she had some cakes and pastries to deliver still, and while Galina was her boss, she wasn't planning on disappointing her. She and Irina had taken her in when no one would, and that alone deserved compensation and gratefulness.
"That... that sounds like a good idea," said the young woman, beginning to smile a little.
"You'll just need to have some elocution and etiquette lessons," said Fran; she was already thinking of how she was going to spend her part of the reward – five million rubles!
"Indeed. And we'll go over some of your family history," added Niles, "Maybe it will help you remember a bit more of who you are."
Claire frowned – elocution? Etiquette? Where was she going to learn that? She certainly didn't have the money for an instructor! Nor did she have the time...
"Why?" asked the girl, moving to pick Chester up in her arms, "Can't we just tell my grandmother that I don't remember anything? She'll understand, surely!"
Niles didn't want to come off as annoyed as he answered, but it was hard not to when they were so close to getting her to agree. And she had to agree. If she didn't, it was highly likely that the Dowager Empress would see straight through the lie, and then they'd all be out on the street.
The entire con would've been for nothing.
"We just want to help you make a good impression," he managed to say smoothly. "After all, it's been so long, a few lessons on how to behave around her might be in order. Also, it might help you to remember a few things by yourself – it'll give you more to talk about!"
His voice got faster towards the end. He was praying she didn't sense the change.
She seemed to be thinking about it, at any rate. He didn't know if that was a good or a bad thing.
"Hm… alright," Claire eventually said. "But I have to go back to my employer first, and tell her what's happening."
Go back to her...?
What?!
She wanted to keep working?! This would only delay their departure to Paris! Not to mention she simply couldn't go and tell just about anyone about their (very much illegal) plan.
God... why did she of all the women in Russia have to be the perfect Chastity-Claire?!
She had the looks they needed, but not the brains...
They had to start right away, and the very thought made Niles' feet itch.
He shifted on the spot as he tried hard not to groan through his next question.
"Are you absolutely sure that you have to do that? After all, this opportunity isn't exactly one that comes along very often!"
Claire quirked an eyebrow at him, settling Chester firmly in her arms, "Are you expecting other claimants?"
Both Niles and Fran tried not to give the impression of freezing. They didn't say so aloud, and had no way of knowing, but their minds both gave the exact same unspoken answer to that question.
The answer was "Dear God, I hope not."
But putting on a more cheerful front, Niles started to smile, "Of course not! There's only one of–"
"Then our lessons and our trip to Paris can be delayed by the two hours at most it will take to get everything else done," Claire shut him off. "I don't even know if I'm a royal yet, so while I still don't know I'm going to do what any other person would do and finish their job."
Niles blinked at her. She really was a headstrong young woman, wasn't she? From what he remembered and what he'd heard, she could easily be related to the Dowager through personality alone!
He shared a silent look with Fran. Two hours wasn't that long, was it?
The way Claire had phrased it, they were going to have to treat it like it wasn't a long time, whether they liked it or not.
And Fran's replied look told him exactly the same thing. They weren't in charge of this part, even if his cohort also appeared to be vaguely amused that Claire had told him off.
"A-Alright, then," he conceded. "We'll let you finish your job and then we'll get you started on your lessons."
Claire looked dubious, "You're going to get me a tutor?"
"No need fer that, honey – there's one already here!" Fran staged a curtsy. "Before the Revolution, I just so happened ta be a countess!"
She said it with such a flourish, Claire very nearly laughed. But she had to keep herself composed - the woman was doing her best to cheer her up and help her, so being rude wasn't an option (no matter how unlikely her claim seemed).
"Oh," she hoped she came off as surprised but happy instead. "Well, that's wonderful!"
"Certainly is," Niles piped up, coming to put an encouraging hand on Claire's back. "Now, Your Imperial Highness, I do believe that you mentioned getting to work right away, and seeing your employer about leaving...?"
Claire felt him push against her back, as if he was trying to silently urge her towards the door.
Not that she needed much encouraging. If it was all true and she really was getting to see her grandmother for the first (but not really the first) time, then she wasn't going to hang around!
Pastries and Galina, and then back for the lessons. She'd be back and ready in no time at all.
She was certain Galina would understand – this was her chance at finding her family! Of finding out who she was.
Again, she still had her doubts about the authenticity of Niles' claim that she was Chastity-Claire, but what did she have to lose? And if she wasn't the lost princess...
Well...
She'd still be in Paris – and someone was waiting for her in Paris.
Promising to be back later, C.C. held Chester closer to her, and scurried out of the palace, ready to complete her deliveries for the day.
Once she was out, four people remained inside the hall – two of those four, were unaware of the other's presence.
And those two unnoticed occupants were glaring at Niles. If they'd been more powerful as ethereal beings, then Stewart would've suggested trying to see if a hard enough stare could kill the young man.
But he had no such ability, and as such had to take his grievances out in other fashion.
And Niles was giving him plenty of those!
"Who does this boy think he is?" he asked, both incredulous and rage-filled. "Scamming my mother, and using our daughter to do it?!"
This man was the worst type of manipulating scum; the kind who'd tell a woman she was special to him and that it was all different when he was with her, only to drop her when she was no longer convenient. Only this time it would be C.C. getting dropped, if Marie didn't recognise her. And after so many years, it was a distinct possibility that the Dowager just wouldn't.
It was unlikely to be the fairy-tale ending that Niles had promised their girl in bad faith.
And C.C. would be left behind, alone and broken, once again.
Only this time she would remember each detail vividly – she would remember the moment where her hopes of finding a family were obliterated.
"Conniving little bastard..." hissed the Tsarina, folding her arms over her chest. She wanted to swat at the insolent conman, but she also knew it would be useless. He wouldn't feel her rage or any of her blows. "Stewart we cannot let him play with our child's feelin—"
"We did it!"
Niles' scream of triumph interrupted B.B. mid-sentence.
"These little amnesiac fool fell right into our trap!" said the former servant gleefully.
Trap. Stewart and B.B. knew it would lead to something like this!
They could only watch as the two criminals danced around the old sofa, delighting in their apparent luck at their newest find.
"Ten million rubles, Niles!" Fran cried out. It was so loud, everyone wondered if C.C. might come running back to see what all the noise was. "We're gonna get ten million!"
"We could, in theory, get far more than that," Niles patted her shoulder. "Leave it to me when we get there. I'll do all the talking. You focus on getting our little street princess ready for her grand entrance into society."
Street princess?!
If B.B. had had a physical presence, she would have slapped him for that. Or had the guards throw him out of their home for such insolence!
But she had no body. There were no guards. This wasn't their home.
Not anymore.
And no matter if she liked it or not, this man was an opportunity to get C.C. to Paris. There was always a chance that Marie would recognise her...
But Stewart didn't appear to be thinking about that. He was still glaring daggers at Niles for his remark.
"He's going to regret that," he muttered. "When he finds out..."
Well, at least that implied that he thought C.C. had a chance of getting somewhere with these two con merchants. That a little while in her presence would open their eyes, and they'd see their princess again.
They had to wait in hope, for the absence of living in it.
C.C. wouldn't be long on her errands – she was good at working, despite the humiliation it would cause if the imperial family's name could be tarnished anymore by such an event – so they could easily stay where they were.
They wanted to hear more about the plan that these two had, anyway. Maybe they'd figure out a way of being able to do something?
Then Niles really would regret it.
B.B. rubbed her husband's shoulder, trying to keep him calm as well.
"I know he will, my darling. We just have to be patient."