The Rebel Daughters
Chapter One
Chapter One
Russia, June 1823
I t was the season of the Beliye Nochi when the sun never set and days slipped effortlessly into pearlescent nights. Water lapped the shore and the breeze stirred with excitement and promise. No one could sleep on a night like this. Tiny stars appeared, clusters of yellow in a paper sky. When you looked again, they were gone. The fleeting northern summer was a time of magic when the world was young. Anything was possible, every dream within reach, and in the summerhouse of Madame Davydov’s garden, four young women were playing a game.
Anna Brianski was the youngest. She was slender and pretty, her face dominated by large dark eyes flecked with amber. A pair of arched eyebrows accented her sweeping dark eyelashes. She was fair-skinned with lips that curved upwards at the ends. It was an arresting face, a face open to the world, her thoughts and emotions playing over its delicate features. Her posture was demure but her eyes gave her away. They were eager, rebellious and passionate. For all her mother’s training, Anna Brianski had reached the age of sixteen with the wilder side of her nature untamed.
A mane of tawny hair, arranged so carefully earlier, had escaped its pins and now fell untidily over her shoulders. Anna twisted a stray lock around her fingers. She had never played this game before. Would she win the knave of hearts? A small frown creased her forehead. Pray God the cards would be true to her tonight!
Into her mind crept the memory of last summer. Anna had been sitting on the front veranda reading a novel when Captain Dashkovy and her brother rode up to the house. She could see every detail as if it were yesterday. How handsome the men looked in their white uniforms and shining helmets, her dress with green ribbons and the book falling from her hands as the captain smiled at her. Anna had fallen in love with Peter Dashkovy before he dismounted from his horse. When he lifted her hand to his lips, she gazed into his blue eyes, speechless.
‘The Second Life Guards are stationed at Strevinka, Anna.’ Her brother Sasha, affectionate and teasing. ‘Captain Dashkovy’s billeted in our home. Please can you inform our parents that we’ve arrived?’
Anna had run so fast down the passage she tripped and bruised her knees. Picking herself up, she burst through the doors of the salon and startled her parents out of their chairs.
At dinner that night, Captain Dashkovy had remarked to Sasha in a voice loud enough for all to hear. ‘Your sister’s so pretty, I swear I’ll marry her when she grows up.’ Her parents laughed but Anna kept his words locked in her mind. Peter Dashkovy had stayed with them for a week, and in that time her life changed. Why he had captivated her so entirely, she did not know, but she had loved him ever since with all the violent passion in her young heart.
Beside Anna, her friend, Sofia Pavel, now reclined in a rocking chair. Everything about Sofia was delicate, from the bones of her wrists to her heart-shaped face and cloud of fair hair. There was shyness to her, a softness in her voice that belied the strength of her character. She had a habit of looking dreamily at the world through her grey eyes, but tonight her gaze was alert. Anna knew Sofia was fond of her brother. If Sofia’s dreams came true, she would claim Sasha for her own.
Music for a polonaise floated down from the house and Maria Raevsky whispered, ‘Before we begin, let me remind you of the rules.’
Maria was Madame Davydov’s granddaughter. Unlike other members of her family, she was dark-haired with olive skin. Vivacious and beautiful, she was everyone’s favourite. Last night, in a birthday concert for her grandmother, Maria had played a piece by Mozart on the piano. As her small, strong fingers moved over the keys with hypnotic grace, both men and women in the audience raised handkerchiefs to their eyes.
‘We’ll each be dealt seven cards.’ Maria spoke slowly. ‘We then take turns to pick a card from the pile and discard one. Whoever has a queen wins the knave of that suit. If anyone claims the same knave three times, the man he represents will be her husband. Nine rounds will complete tonight’s game. Do you all understand?’
A mist, fine as gauze, rose from the lake and the three girls nodded in silence.
‘Then we shall begin.’ Maria removed the knaves, cut the pack and gave it to Olga Bulgarin.
Olga had lost her parents to cholera as a child and was Maria’s best friend. She was a rare beauty, with creamy white skin and ebony hair coiled in plaits around her head. A nosegay of jasmine was pinned to her bodice. Anna inhaled its sweet, heady fragrance. Olga was a year older and, along with Maria, would be presented at court next season. It was said she would conquer every heart with a single glance from her emerald-green eyes. Anna didn’t care if every man in St. Petersburg fell in love with her – apart from one.
Olga shuffled the cards and glanced over her shoulder. Who was she looking for, Anna wondered? Guests were assembled at the dacha for the ball in honour of Madame Davydov’s birthday. The girls were too young to attend, but Olga could have stayed up at the house. Why join in their game – unless she had a favourite among the knaves? Could it be Prince Sergei Volkonsky? He was a younger son of one of the most illustrious families in Russia. Had Olga set her cap at him? Volkonsky’s name had been mentioned in connection with Maria, but that wouldn’t deter her. Beneath the sensuous languor, the fighting blood of the Tatars ran in her veins and Olga was ambitious.
The cards were passed round for inspection and Anna’s heart missed a beat as she touched the knave of hearts. She closed her eyes a moment before she passed him on. The next card was the knave of clubs for Prince Volkonsky, then black spades for Nicholas Bulgarin. She had met Olga’s brother once and quickly handed the card to Sofia. Smiling, she looked down at Sasha in his suit of diamonds.
The knaves were put to one side and Olga dealt the cards, placing the remaining pack face down on the table. Maria took the top card. She deliberated a moment and then rejected it. Anna followed and collected an ace. A tiny sigh escaped her lips. She held the queen of spades and needed a king to discard her. Every card she picked up, she was disappointed.
As they finished the fourth round, Olga held up her hand. ‘I have the queen of hearts and claim my knave.’
She spoke softly, her heavy-lidded eyes half closed, and Anna felt her mouth turn dry. Surely, she was mistaken? Olga needed clubs for Prince Volkonsky – not hearts for Peter! Without bothering to pick up her knave, she tossed the black queen onto the table.
Daylight still glowed through the trees and the game continued. Once more, Olga claimed hearts; once again, Anna won spades, while Maria took clubs. Sofia hadn’t won a single knave, but Anna was too flustered to notice. No one must suspect that she cared and she smiled rigidly until her jaw ached with the effort. When they came to the last round she could hardly bear to look. Olga won the knave of hearts outright and glanced at Anna.
‘The cards say Captain Dashkovy will be mine.’ A smile curved her velvety lips. ‘The perfect match, wouldn’t you agree?’
Anna swallowed her breath and choked. She fumbled in her sleeve for a handkerchief and held it over her mouth. A nightingale began its plaintive song as Maria gathered up the cards.
‘So, who do you want as a husband, Maria?’ Olga stood up, scooping her bag off the table. ‘Will you marry a poet or a prince?’
‘I want to marry a man who is faithful. A poet’s obliged to fall in love with every pretty woman he meets.’
The older girls linked arms as they walked ahead to the house, Maria’s inky hair cascading down her back and Olga with the sinuous movement of a gypsy. Anna felt her corset chafing at her ribs and her shoes pinching her feet. Olga was as unfathomable as the universe. What was her purpose this evening? She didn’t even know Peter Dashkovy! Why make a song and dance about someone she’d never met? Has she found out that I love him, she wondered? Did she deliberately want to upset me? How could she be so cruel?
Her hands felt cold as Anna stopped to wait for Sofia. Her friend had suffered rheumatic fever as a child, causing weakness in her lungs, and she walked slowly.
When she caught up, Anna’s lip trembled and Sofia asked, ‘What’s the matter with you tonight?’
‘Olga fixed the cards! I know she did.’
‘Don’t be silly. Why should she do such a thing?’
‘Because she always has to win.’
Sofia shrugged and walked on past the cascade of fountains that divided the garden. How had Olga arranged it, Anna wondered? Her bag had been lying on the table. She must have come down earlier and hidden extra queens beneath it. Sofia’s too kind, she thought. It’s unwise always to think the best of people.
‘I bet you’d be suspicious if she’d won the knave of diamonds,’ Anna said.
‘I wouldn’t mind. Lucky in cards, unlucky in love, you know what they say, Anna. It’s only a game. You shouldn’t take it so seriously.’
Plumes of lilac shivered in the breeze, their scent cloaking the air as the girls climbed the steps to the house. Anna drew her shawl about her shoulders. She always felt better when she was with Sofia. Playing cards couldn’t predict the future and Russians were too superstitious. You couldn’t move without breaking some taboo that had been drummed into you since birth. If your right eye itched, then good luck was on the way – if the left, misfortune awaited. Never break bread with your hands – use a knife or ruin the rest of your life. And pray no black bird lands on your windowsill. God forbid it taps on the glass with its beak! If you boast of future happiness, your dreams will turn to dust…
Why hadn’t she thought of the last one before? The tender blue sky and peaceful night quietened Anna’s heart. Sofia was right. Lucky in cards, unlucky in love. It was silly to have been upset, for she had nothing to fear. Olga Bulgarin would never marry Peter Dashkovy.