Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
St. Petersburg, November 1825
I t was a beautiful day. The marsh birds that gathered in dark clouds last week had migrated south and the Neva River was frozen over. Pink and gold cupolas shimmered in the sunlight and the tall spire of the Admiralty shone in the distance. Despite the cold, there was incessant movement as people and sleighs skidded about on the ice. Young men pushed sledge chairs carrying ladies, and horse-drawn troikas crossed the river following tracks marked by fir branches that looked like clumps of white coral dusted with diamonds.
Close to the bank, great blocks of ice were being lifted out and piled on carts to be taken to cellars all over the city. Cab drivers and postilions were shouting for fares and near the English Quay a well-dressed crowd of people had gathered to skate. Some were expert, showing off their skill, while beginners clung to the backs of chairs fitted with runners. They passed each other, smiling and exchanging a few words, all of them enjoying the fine weather.
The sounds of sleigh bells and children’s voices lifted Anna’s spirits as she stepped onto the ice. She was relieved to be out of the house, but the memory of the reception weighed heavy. After dancing a quadrille with her father, she had stood on the landing watching as the first guests began to leave. Footmen held fur-lined capes for the ladies while gentlemen offered their shoulders for redingotes and cloaks. The party was still going when she went to her bedroom. Mazra helped her undress and Anna climbed into bed, blew out the candle and cried herself to sleep.
Peter had sent a note to her parents the next day, apologising that he had been waylaid. Waylaid? All Sasha’s friends had been there except for him. She was sure he would come himself to say he was sorry. Whenever the doorbell rang or a carriage drew up outside, her hopes soared and then crashed with disappointment. Peter had stayed away but Major Renin had come to pay his respects. Anna rebuffed him as civilly as she could, until last week when he called twice. Irritated by his persistence, she told him straight out he was wasting his time.
‘You may not appreciate my attentions now, but you will regret your coldness, ma’am.’ The major stood up abruptly, his face reddening. ‘Mark my words – there’ll come a time when you and your family beg for my protection in this city.’
He had marched out of the room, leaving Anna perplexed. What on earth was he talking about? Boris Renin was a vain, prickly man – still, it was a strange thing to say. On Sofia’s advice, she left instructions with the hall porter that, should Major Renin call again, he be told she was not at home.
Anna took deep breath and pushed off from the side. In her red jacket and fur-trimmed matching skirt, she made a graceful figure as she carved a line across the ice. A young man skated past, turning his head to smile at her, and lost his balance. He touched the ice with his hand before he pulled himself up, laughing as he skated away. When a boy in national dress, stooping low and swinging his arms, overtook her, she increased her speed. Cold air streamed over her face as she spun around, skating backwards until she reached the little wooden houses serving refreshments.
Anna slowed down and came to a halt. She had skated further than she realised, almost halfway across the river. There was a clanking of chains as sledges were pulled to the top of ice hills and a clattering and shouting as young men hurtled down them. They were laughing, cheering each other on, as they raced and she smiled at their daredevil antics. She would have stayed longer but Omelko, the coachman, was waiting and would be upset if he lost sight of her.
Seagulls swooped overhead as she began to skate back, her blades crossing fast and close until she could see Omelko. He was by the carriage, wearing a shaggy fur coat over his uniform and a cockade in his hat. He held a hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun and Anna executed a perfect figure of eight for his benefit.
As she came out of the final loop, she caught sight of Olga Bulgarin. She was standing apart from the crowd, dressed in a tailored green habit with a black fur hat and a muff hanging from her neck. A sable cape covered her shoulders, and she was looking towards the bank. The next moment, Peter Dashkovy came down the steps with a flying jump. He tried out his skates with a few quick turns and then glided across the ice towards her. She gave him her hand and they set off across the ice.
Olga and Peter skating together! Anna felt she had been struck in the face. She stared at them, then shut her eyes hoping to make the sight of them disappear. Dark spots fluttered before her eyelids and when she looked again Olga and Peter had passed the ice hills and were turning to come back. The quicker they went, the closer they leant towards each other, their bodies never losing contact. She forced herself to breathe, inhaling slowly until the first stab of shock passed and her mind steadied. They were skating fast and at any moment would catch sight of her. She must get away. She set off towards the bank, trying not to draw attention to herself, and waved to Omelko. As he raised his arm in acknowledgment, she heard a rasp of blades behind her.
‘Wait for us, Anna Ivanova!’ Peter Dashkovy shouted.
Anna dug her edges into the ice so that a plume of snow sheared up from beneath her skates. Turning around, she saw Peter with Olga close behind. Peter skated with long gliding strokes until he came to a halt beside her. He was hatless, his golden hair shining in the sun, and all she could think was how beautiful he was. She loved the lift of his head and the light in his blue eyes. He was so handsome her breath caught in her throat. If only they were alone, she would tell him she loved him right now! But Olga had caught up and was standing close by.
‘What a lovely surprise to find you here,’ Peter said. ‘Are you on your own?’
‘Omelko’s with me.’ Anna’s arm felt stiff and awkward as she pointed towards the embankment. ‘He’s watching over me as usual.’
‘Good day to you, Anna. It’s an age since we last met.’
Olga’s voice fractured the cold air and Anna turned her head, seeing the colour in the other girl’s cheeks and the glow in her green eyes. ‘I’m told you were the brightest star of last summer’s season. I’m pleased to see you again.’
‘My family were worried you might be unwell, Captain Dashkovy.’ Anna poked the ice with the toe of her boot and looked at Peter. ‘We were expecting you at Sasha and Sofia’s wedding reception.’
‘I’m sorry to have let them down. I’ve told Sasha we’ll make up for it in some other way.’ Peter’s apology sounded vaguely half-hearted.
We? What did he mean, we? Intuition, fleeting and terrifying, made Anna’s heartbeat quicken.
‘It really wasn’t Captain Dashkovy’s fault,’ Olga added. ‘I’m entirely to blame for keeping him away. I hope it didn’t ruin your evening.’
Olga flicked frost crystals off her muff with one hand and Anna flashed her a glance. ‘Not in the slightest. It was a splendid occasion. It was only my parents who noticed Captain Dashkovy’s absence.’
‘I’m so glad you say so,’ Olga answered with a glittering smile. ‘I hear Maria and Sergei Volkonsky were there. Did Maria tell you she’s leaving St. Petersburg with the baby to spend time with her family? Sergei will join them for Christmas and the Raevskys have asked us to stay for the New Year.’
The information filtered into Anna’s brain. Olga always had to be the one who knew everything. She disliked that in her almost as much as the way she stood so close to Peter, her hand on his arm as if he belonged to her. There were people skating all around them, the sound of voices tumbling through her head, and she realised Peter was speaking.
‘Olga hasn’t seen Sasha or Sofia since we were all at Kamenka. She’d like to visit them and offer her congratulations.’
‘Miss Bulgarin’s been in St. Petersburg all season. She could have called on us at any time, had she wanted…’
The words came out of her mouth before Anna could stop them. She saw Olga frown with hurt in her expression. The atmosphere was so tense the air seemed to fissure as Peter put his arm around her shoulders.
‘Are you suggesting Olga isn’t welcome in your home?’
His voice was hard as his eyes narrowed, warning her off. Peter had never been angry with her before. A pulse began thudding in Anna’s throat. How could he be so quick to defend Olga’s feelings and careless of her own? Peter was behaving as if she meant nothing to him.
She curled her toes in her boots to control herself and struggled to find her voice. ‘You misunderstand me, sir,’ she said at last. ‘My family will be pleased to receive Miss Bulgarin whenever is convenient. And now I must take my leave for I am already late. Good day to you both.’
If she stayed any longer, she felt she might collapse, and Anna was thankful they made no attempt to detain her. She tripped as she came off the ice and hobbled to a bench where she sat down to unstrap her skates from her boots. It was past two o’clock and the family were expecting her for lunch – but she couldn’t go home yet. She needed to calm herself. She bent her head low, squeezing her eyes shut. Peter can’t be in love with Olga, she thought desperately. Sasha or Sofia would have said something. Do they know? Why didn’t they tell me? Nothing could be worse than finding out like this. Who else might be in on the secret? Nicholas Bulgarin was Olga’s guardian. Was he aware that Peter was with his sister on the night of the reception?
A tear splashed onto her lap and she searched her pockets for a handkerchief. She found one with a monogram stitched in the corner. Peter had lent it to her at Sasha’s wedding and she had kept it ever since. It was the last time she had seen him. Memories of the day flashed through her head – the way Peter caught her eye during the ceremony, and his strong arm under her hand as he led her out of the church. She thought of Olga’s green eyes and her flirtatious glance. There was an alluring sense of mystery about her – had she bewitched Peter?
The sound of skates made Anna raise her head. The young man who had smiled at her earlier was approaching, dropping down and sliding across the ice on his knees. He had a bunch of red flowers in one hand and put the other to his heart as he offered them to her. Roses in November! Anna instinctively counted the stems. Thirteen not twelve! Good – a dozen was unlucky – but how much they must have cost! Who was he, this handsome boy with kind brown eyes? Had they met before? Before she could ask, he was on his feet and skating off, his green frock coat weaving between other skaters as he disappeared into the crowd.
The corner of a white envelope peeped from the bouquet. Anna took it out and withdrew a card from inside. There was a message written in a stylish, forward-sloping hand.
‘I have prevailed upon my young friend to give these to you. Please accept them with my compliments in the hope they restore the bloom to your cheeks.’
What on earth? There was no signature. Anna looked around. A man in a greatcoat with a beaver collar was walking away. His hat was too low to see his face. She thought he was taller than Major Renin – but who else could it be? There was no one else in the crowd she recognised. It must be the major, damn him! Anna was possessed by a sudden urge to hurl the bouquet onto the river. She imagined the petals torn to shreds by blades, red as blood on the ice, and shuddered.
‘Miss Anna, let me assist you.’ Simeon Omelko leant down and gave her his hand to help her to her feet.
Omelko was a serf from her father’s estate in the country and Anna had known him all her life. He rarely showed emotion but, beneath his bushy black eyebrows, she saw undisguised concern. Was her distress so obvious? Omelko was awaiting her instructions and Anna passed him the flowers.
‘I was given these. Did you see Major Renin, by any chance?’
‘I wouldn’t know, ma’am. It was hard enough keeping my eye on you.’
It wasn’t his place to chastise her, but Anna took no offence. Omelko had been the first person to lift her on a pony’s back and the first to pick her up when she fell off. When she was old enough, he had taught her the difficult skill of driving a troika of three horses in the snow. She trusted him completely.
‘I don’t want them and they’re too expensive to throw away. Do you know anyone who might have use of them?’
‘There’s a family over there. They could sell them to buy bread.’
Anna waited as Omelko walked over to the little group. The mother was crouched in a doorway with two ragged children clinging to her skirts. The younger one could be no more than five. Her face was pinched and blue with cold. The sight of them was pitiful and Anna felt ashamed. Never in her life had she wanted for anything. She and her family lived in luxurious comfort while children like these were starving on the streets. What was her heartache compared to their miserable existence? Omelko was leaning down, his head low as he talked to the mother. He was gentle for a big man and the pain in her heart subsided a little. As he handed over the flowers, she walked over, taking off her fur muff, and handed it to the woman.
‘For the children…’ She spoke in Russian and made a gesture towards the two wide-eyed figures staring up at her. ‘Use it to buy them warm clothes. I have plenty of gloves.’
‘Thank you, ma’am. Bud zdorova . God bless you.’
Anna let Omelko lead her away and help her into the open carriage. He tucked blankets around her, then climbed up onto the driving board and cracked the whip over the horses’ heads. As they drove along the granite quays she looked back and saw the mother and children had gone.
The daily military parade was over and it was the fashionable hour of the promenade. Smartly dressed pedestrians jostled each other on the pavements as droshkies dashed about in every direction. They were driven by coachmen in belted caftans with furry hats and long beards who never used a whip, guiding their horses by voice alone. With their arms outstretched and a rein in each hand, they galloped from one end of the city to the other. Manoeuvring between the one-horse cabs and wagons piled high with hay and beetroot, the landau kept to a walk until they reached Anichkov Bridge. Here, cobbles gave way to blocks of wood and the horses broke into a trot.
This might be the last fine day for months. Soon the snow would arrive and, as winter set in, lamps on the bridges and in the streets would be lit all day and night. Anna heard the harsh craw of ravens and peered upwards, her eyes intent on the black shadows circling overhead. They were sinister birds and, as they turned past the great mass of the Winter Palace, she made the sign of the cross and began to pray.
‘Dear Lord, give me a chance to talk to Peter. Men are weak as well as strong. I must save him from Olga’s clutches. He’ll forget her once he knows that I love him. I’ll ask Sasha to arrange a meeting and tell him everything. There can be no more misunderstandings between us. Please God, don’t let it be too late.’