The Rebel Daughters

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

St. Petersburg, 27th November 1825

I t was Sunday and Anna was expecting her brother in the Sale d’Or. With its walls of patterned white and gold silk, it was the prettiest room in the house. Different kinds of wood made up the floor in a design as rich as an oriental rug and, at either end, sofas and chairs were arranged for conversation around gilded tables. It was an elegant, opulent room, always filled with flowers and used by the family on Sundays.

It was a clear, cold morning, the window frosted with ice, and Anna absently traced a pattern on the inside of the glass. When Sasha had returned the next afternoon, she had watched him like a hawk, but his air of artificial gaiety prevented her mentioning the events of the night before. With the news of Sofia’s pregnancy, the drama had been swept aside, but she must pass on Nicholas Bulgarin’s warning and had asked him to meet her alone before lunch. She hoped Sasha would take her seriously. How would he react? There was no time to wonder, for just then the door opened and Michael Pavel walked into the room.

‘I overtook Sasha on the way up.’ Michael bowed, then walked over and kissed her hand. ‘I begged for two minutes alone with you.’

Michael was wearing a stylish double-breasted nankeen jacket and dark breeches. The high standing collar of his shirt reached the bottom of his ears and his silk cravat was immaculately tied. Anna had rarely seen him out of uniform and was impressed. She patted the seat next to her.

‘I’m on leave for a week with nothing to do.’ Michael leant back and crossed one booted leg over the other. ‘I was wondering if you’d like to go for a sleigh drive this afternoon – with your parents’ consent, of course.

‘Are you sure it’s not too cold?’

‘I’ve enough bearskins to keep you warm. I’d like to spend more time with you, Anna Ivanova.’

The note in his voice brought Anna’s head up. Michael was smiling and the good humour in his eyes made it impossible not to respond.

‘Thank you. That would be lovely.’ Anna hesitated. She wasn’t ready to embark on a new love affair and didn’t want to give the wrong impression. ‘I know you only wish to be kind, but I’m hoping to establish myself as an artist and must devote myself to it.’

‘A sleigh ride is hardly a lifetime commitment.’ Michael rolled his eyes and put a hand to his brow in mock horror. ‘I’ve no intention of compromising your burgeoning career.’

‘I do love my work–’ Anna began and stopped as Michael took hold of her hand. She had seen that look in men’s eyes before, usually before a declaration, and caught her breath.

‘I know I’ve no right to ask you, dear Anna, but is there someone else?’

‘No one, upon my honour.’

‘So, I may still hope?’ Michael persisted.

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Anna answered vaguely. She searched her mind for a way to change the subject and thought of Boris Renin. ‘I meant to ask you before. How well do you know Major Renin?’

‘He’s my senior officer. I wouldn’t claim him as a friend. Why do you ask?’

‘Because I ran into him at the Volkonsky palace. What do you think he was doing there? Could he be a government spy?’ She’d spoken the question before realising how bold it sounded.

‘Heavens, no! Was he wearing a cloak and carrying a dagger?’ Michael laughed until tears came into his eyes. He released her hand to search for a handkerchief to wipe them away before he went on. ‘I expect he was trying to gain favour with Princess Volkonsky. He’s determined to be a lion of St. Petersburg society.’

‘What do know about his background?’

‘He never talks about his family, only his career in the army. I believe his father was a master at the Lyceum and he studied there for a time.’

Anna had heard of the Lyceum at Tsarskoye Selo. The school had been established by Tsar Alexander, and Pushkin had been a pupil there. She was silent, waiting for Michael to elaborate.

‘I asked him once if he’d made friends among the other students. He implied they were all conceited, over-privileged young men. No doubt they made him feel inferior.’ He paused and then added, ‘Don’t tell me you’ve taken a shine to him.’

‘On the contrary. I have the impression he’s the kind of man who uses people and then discards them.’

‘Boris Renin has many faults., Michael frowned and gazed thoughtfully round the room. ‘He’s fiercely ambitious – but there’s no harm in that. Why are you so wary of him?’

Before Anna had time to answer, there was a rustle of skirts and Count and Countess Brianski entered with Sasha and Sofia. Michael stood up and Sofia kissed her brother on both cheeks.

‘Good morning, Mishka. And what brings you here today? Are you joining us for lunch?’

‘Oh yes, do please stay,’ Valentina interposed. ‘Are your parents both well?’

‘Indeed, they are, ma’am. And I’d be delighted to join you for lunch, thank you. If truth be told, I came to ask your permission to take Anna on a sleigh ride this afternoon.’

Sasha pulled a face of faint surprise. ‘Don’t get your hopes up, my friend. Anna’s a veritable ice maiden.’

‘Don’t say a such thing, Sasha,’ Sofia scolded her husband. ‘Anna’s right to take her time. Marry in haste, repent at leisure.’

‘Is that your opinion of wedded bliss, my love?’ Sasha teased.

‘Of course not,’ Sofia answered evenly. ‘However, there should be no secrets between husband and wife.’

Sofia had her arm through husband’s but there was the hint of steel in her voice. So, she hasn’t forgotten the other night, Anna thought. How could she? She keeps Sasha on his toes; yet I must speak to him.

‘Can you spare me a moment, dear brother?’

Sasha shrugged and smiled, detaching himself from Sofia. It was then that Anna became aware of the tolling of bells. They had been ringing all morning, calling people to Mass, their sound muted through the sealed windows. This was different. The slow, ominous peeling was unmistakable, and Anna glanced at her parents. Valentina’s lips were pressed together while her father seemed unaware anything was amiss.

As Anna turned to Sasha, there was a clatter of footsteps outside the door and Monsieur Filot, normally the most polite and formal of men, burst into the room. Andre Filot had served her father for twenty years and never did anything in a rush. He was a tall, thin man with a head too small for his body and a receding hairline. His eyelids batted nervously as they all stared at him. His lips worked to form words, but no sound emerged.

‘What is it, Filot?’ Count Brianski asked brusquely. ‘Come on! Out with it, man!’

‘C’est absolument terrible…’ Monsieur Filot began. His hands were shaking as he took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his brow. He swallowed and passed his tongue over his lips. ‘Our beloved Tsar Alexander’s dead. He passed away in Taganrog eight days ago.’

‘Mon Dieu! How? Are you sure?’ Ivan Brianski’s knees seemed to give way and Michael caught him by the arm.

‘He was taken by typhoid fever. Word reached Petersburg this morning. Grand Duke Nicholas was informed as he left the cathedral.’

‘Dear Lord have mercy on his soul. God grant him eternal rest.’ Valentina made the sign of the cross and fell to her knees. She clasped her hands in prayer and Anna and Sofia knelt down on either side of her. Her father sank onto a chair while Sasha and Michael remained standing. Ivan Brianski looked shocked, his mouth half-open and his eyes glazed.

‘Holy Mary, mother of God,’ Valentina whispered in a thin voice. ‘Pray for us sinners. Now and at the hour of our death…’

Anna felt as if she had been hit by a thunderbolt as she murmured the response. Alexander had been on the throne since before she was born. He was the tsar who defeated Napoleon and was adored by his people. He wasn’t yet fifty years old and had seemed in good health. How could he be dead? She kept her head bowed and peered through her fingers.

‘Christ have mercy. Lord have mercy…’

Valentina and Sofia went on as Anna fell silent. She was looking at Michael as he clutched the back of the chair, gripping it so hard she thought it might break in his hands. Michael belonged to the Imperial Chevalier Guards, the tsar’s regimental bodyguard. He was personally acquainted with Alexander. For him, it was like losing a member of his family. His face was drawn and his eyes wet with tears. She wanted to comfort him but dared not move. Sofia’s chin was on her knuckles so she couldn’t see her face, and her gaze went to her brother. The unholy glow in his eyes and tautness in the muscles of his cheeks sent an icy coldness down her spine.

In those few moments, Anna registered the visual details as vividly if she were working on a painting: Monsieur Filot leaning against the pillar of the doorway through which came the sound of weeping women, her mother and Sofia reciting the litany, and her father slumped in the chair with Michael standing rigidly behind him. It would stay in her mind forever. Her brother was alone by the window, his expression tense but not distraught. Anna knew him too well to be mistaken. Sasha had undergone a change – a flame had been ignited that could not be extinguished. She could feel it in her bones. Whatever it was he and his friends had in mind, news of Alexander’s sudden death was not unwelcome.