Anastasia hardly spoke the entire trip back to the barn and she barely met his eyes, which greatly concerned Dmitry. Normally he would have expected her to talk nonstop. Perhaps she didn't want to say too much while they were still in public, just in case.
He was extremely relieved when they managed to get to the barn without incident. As soon as the door was closed, he began trying to make things a little homier for Anastasia, who remained close to the door as she glanced around.
"I know it's not much," he said, "but it's safe."
"It's better than that house," she murmured, then shuddered. Dmitry's blood ran cold. What could have possibly happened in the Ipatiev House?
"Here, sit down," he said, guiding her to his makeshift bed, which was mostly comprised of the blankets he had taken from the house. Anastasia complied, though she looked a little overwhelmed by the barn. She tucked the skirt of her borrowed dress around her knees and glanced up at him.
"Are you hungry?" he asked, and she shook her head. Dmitry knew he was hovering, but he suddenly felt awkward around her. He massaged the back of his neck, then sat down in front of her.
"Do you need anything?" He asked gently.
"Why am I here Dmitry?" she asked, finally meeting his eye for longer than a few seconds. "My family…. If the guards discover that I'm not there-"
"They won't," Dmitry insisted. "We made sure the plan was foolproof. I trust you switched pictures on your ID cards?" Anastasia nodded.
"Then everything should be fine," Dmitry continued. "It'll all be fine."
"I'm so scared," she said softly. "I don't know why you made me do this."
"Because there's something you and your family need to know," he said. "It was too risky to put on paper."
"And this plan wasn't?" Anastasia challenged. Dmitry had to force himself not to smile at the fight she was now putting up. It made him feel as though she was normal again.
"It carried less risk," he said. "Listen, there's a plan to rescue all of you."
"We know," Anastasia said, and Dmitry startled.
"You know?" he asked. "How could you know?"
"The notes," Anastasia said. Her brows furrowed together as she watched him. "We've been getting notes for weeks now."
"What notes?" Dmitry demanded, stepping closer to her.
"The notes in the milk bottles," she said, trembling a bit. "The nuns bring us fresh milk, and the notes have been stuck in the corks of the bottles. Are you involved with those?"
Dmitry shook his head. "If there's another plan to rescue you, we've never heard a word of it. What do the notes say?"
"They told us to wait for a sign, and then attempt an escape," Anastasia said slowly. "We didn't know what that meant, so we waited and waited. Then we got that note from you saying that I had to switch places with the cleaning girl. We thought that was the sign." Dmitry stiffened.
"That wasn't a sign at all," he said, trying not to let her see how panicked he was. "Does your family still think it's a sign? Will they try to escape tonight?" If the Romanovs were caught trying to escape, there was no telling what the Bolsheviks might do to them. And with Dmitry's rescue plan so close at hand, he didn't want anything jeopardizing it. To his relief, Anastasia shook her head.
"I don't think they'd try anything until I return," she said. "They wouldn't want to risk us all being separated again. And when I go back, I can tell them not to do anything. What's your plan?"
Dmitry quickly explained everything, from the plan to storm the house with the local White Army supporters to Armistead whisking them away on the river. The entire time he tried to keep him mind from wandering, but he couldn't help but wonder who else was out there planning an escape.
Could it be there were more Imperialists in Yekaterinburg than they thought? Whoever they were, they seemed to be much bolder than Dmitry was. They had actually asked the Romanovs to attempt an escape on their own with very little promise that there would be a safe rescue for all of them at the end of it.
"How is your family?" he asked after Anastasia had had a chance to process his plan. Anastasia shrugged one shoulder.
"We're as fine as is expected," she said. "Alexei's voice is changing. He sounds like an adult, now. I'm worried for Maria. Everyone was so angry with her because she was flirting with the guards."
"She what?" Dmitry gasped. "Why would she want to do that?"
"Well, it's very boring in there," Anastasia said hotly. "I trust you remember what it was like in Tobolsk? Well here there are even more restrictions and rules. We can hardly turn in a circle without offending someone." Anastasia stood up and crossed her arms, pacing away from Dmitry. He followed after her, apologetic.
"I'm sure it's terrible in there," he said soothingly. "I can't imagine how strong you all must be to endure it. All I meant was the guards treated you so horribly before, I don't understand why she might want to even talk to one."
"Mashka was always a flirt," Anastasia laughed. "You remember what she used to say. She wanted to marry a soldier and have lots of babies." She trailed off, thinking. Then she abruptly met Dmitry's eyes again.
"It's very lonely in there," she continued. "And we have so few companions, it's easy for me to see it. If we weren't being held captive, I don't think she'd be quite so willing to talk to them." Dmitry thought back to Christmas, and when Anastasia had asked him to kiss her. He wondered if there was a double meaning to his words, an explanation to Dmitry himself, who had replayed that moment countless times.
"Well, you'll be free soon enough," he said finally, shaking himself out of his reverie. It was best not to overthink things, he reminded himself, especially when all he had was, at best, speculation.
"So this Armistead fellow," Anastasia said. "What is he like? Do you trust him?"
"Well, yes," Dmitry said slowly, "I do trust him. Or, really, Sir Thomas trusts him, so I trust him."
"What?" Anastasia said. "But you've met him, right?"
"No," Dmitry admitted. "I haven't. But I promise Sir Thomas is trustworthy, and if he thinks Armistead is trustworthy then I trust him."
"Well I've never met this Sir Thomas," Anastasia said, turning on her heel to face him. Her shoulder-length hair narrowly missed his face. "I don't know if I could, or should, trust him. And I know even less about this Armistead."
"Everything will be fine-"
"But how do you know?" Anastasia demanded. "You've said that before. Everyone has. But so far nothing has been fine! This is my family we're talking about."
"I just have faith that everything will be fine," Dmitry said. "I know there's no guarantee. I truly wish there was."
"I do too," Anastasia said. "But that doesn't mean that I'll trust someone so blindly. You said this man hasn't even arrived yet. How are we going to be rescued tomorrow night if he isn't here?"
"He'll be here," Dmitry said resolutely. "I'll go talk to Sir Thomas right now, and he'll have an update. Armistead will be here, don't worry." He led Anastasia back to makeshift bed. She sighed but followed wordlessly.
"I truly hope this plan of yours works, Dmitry," she said.
"It will," Dmitry insisted. On a whim he kissed her hand, and hoped it wasn't a trick of the light that made her cheeks look a little pink. "Stay here, I don't want to take the chance that someone recognizes you. I'll be back soon."
Dmitry closed the door of the barn securely behind him, then took off in the direction of the consulate. He hoped he appeared casual, though he had to try hard to keep himself from running. Armistead would be here, he assured himself. Really, they didn't need him here until tomorrow, if it came down to it. The rest of the plan was already in place.
He strode through the door of the consulate and was waved through to Sir Thomas' office. Dmitry knocked twice before letting himself in, just in time to see the older man, rather gray, hang up his telephone.
"Your timing is impeccable, my boy," he said gravely. Dmitry's stomach plummeted to his toes, and he swallowed hard before speaking.
"Is Armistead here?" he asked, though he suspected he already knew the answer. Sir Thomas shook his head. "But will he arrive tomorrow?"
"No," Sir Thomas sighed. "I'm afraid he got caught in a blockade. The Red Army isn't letting anyone through."
Dmitry fell into a chair, processing what Sir Thomas had told him. Armistead wasn't here. He wouldn't be here in time. There was no way to whisk the Romanovs out of Yekaterinburg.
"That's not to say he won't get here at all," Sir Thomas said quickly when he saw the expression on Dmitry's face. "They might let him through the blockade eventually, or he could find another route to Yekaterinburg. Your plan can still work. It might just have to be delayed."
"Do you think it could happen?" Dmitry asked. He was scared to hope, but he also wanted some good news to take back to Anastasia.
"Don't lose hope yet," Sir Thomas assured him. "There's still a chance."
Dmitry sat there a few moments longer, wondering if he should tell Sir Thomas about rescuing Anastasia from the house. He hadn't breathed a word about that plan to anyone but Irina, in the hopes that fewer people who knew meant fewer chances for it to fail. In the end, though, he decided not to tell him. Anastasia would be back in the Ipatiev House soon enough, he rationalized, and Sir Thomas would never need to know what a risk he'd taken.
He left shortly after that, but took his time walking back to the barn, trying to figure out the best way to words things to break the news to Anastasia. He knew she wouldn't take it well, and would say she knew it and she told him so. And she had. Dmitry didn't like it.
It would all be fine, he reminded himself. Sir Thomas had said so too. And it wasn't a total waste. Anastasia knew the plan. It wasn't like the plan was going to change. She would switch back in tomorrow morning, and tell her family about the plan and what would happen. It just had to be pushed back was all. As soon as Armistead managed to get to Yekaterinburg, Dmitry would slip a note through the fence like he had been doing.
He was feeling much better about the situation as he turned toward the barn and realized the door was wide open. He rolled his eyes; he knew Anastasia could be reckless, but he thought she would at least know better than to open the barn door. She was in a dangerous position and couldn't risk anyone seeing her. He marched inside, ready to tell her off. But she was not where he had left her, on his makeshift bed. And a quick glance around the barn told him that she wasn't there at all.
