The Rebel Daughters

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty

T he unexpected arrival of Count Bulgarin from St. Petersburg caused a stir in the small community. Having received no warning of the visit, Bernashev assumed he had been sent by the tsar to report back on the welfare of the prisoners. For what other reason would an eminent person travel so far? Hoping to make a favourable impression, he conceded to his every demand.

Within a day, it was agreed that Captain Dashkovy should not return to jail until he could walk with crutches, and Volkonsky and Trubetskoy would be given lighter duties. Nicholas Bulgarin also provided money to pay for better food for the prisoners and arranged for Anna to have a private meeting with her brother.

‘I’m glad you’re going home, darling Anna.’ Sasha’s wrists and ankles were manacled, but Nicholas had bribed the guards, and they were alone. ‘How can I ever thank you for bringing Sofia to me? You have saved my life…’

Sasha sat on the edge of his iron bed and Anna took the only chair in the cramped prison cell. He was so thin his shoulders made sharp points through his rough linen shirt. He had always carried himself well. Now his spine was bent and his fair hair streaked with grey. Her mind ran back down the years to the handsome young soldier and adored older brother. For a moment, she felt a pain of longing in her heart for the happiness they had lost.

‘Why are you frowning?’

Anna’s unwanted tears dissolved in a smile, her head tilting to one side as she looked at him. ‘I was thinking of when we were young and how proud I am of you. Do you have any regrets?’

‘I’m sorry for our parents. I hope one day they’ll accept that we had to make a stand. Perhaps you can try to persuade them?’ Sasha looked down at his hands, turning them over slowly, inspecting the palms and then the backs, almost if he didn’t recognise them. They were covered in bruises, the bones of his knuckles white beneath the skin. He let out a sigh before he went on. ‘After Napoleon’s defeat, we believed serfdom would be abolished and the tsar’s powers curtailed. When the government refused a constitution, we had to take action.’

Sasha cleared his throat and Anna heard confidence strengthening his voice. ‘The world is made up not only of good and evil but also of those who do nothing. Silence cannot not protect us. If we remain silent and let tyranny be forced down our throats, Russia will never be free. Take heart, dearest sister. Please don’t lose faith.’

‘I’ll never lose faith, I promise. But what will happen to you and Sofia?’

‘Now Sofia’s here, I’ll get through the prison sentence and then live with my little family in Siberia. There’s so much we can do to bring education and advancement to this part of Russia. Sofia and I have no fears for the future as long as we’re together.’

Tsar Nicholas hoped the Decembrists would be tormented by the suffering of their wives, Anna thought, stemming the pain in her heart. What does he know of love and loyalty? Sasha has no doubts and Sofia’s devotion will sustain him. Let others say he was wrong. I know he was right. Somehow, I must make Mama and Papa understand.

*

They left Nerchinsk two days later. Anna stayed awake all the night before and refused to allow Sofia to get up to see her off. She gave her honey and warm milk, feeding her vitamins for the baby, before they clung to each other. Her farewells to the others had been brief, too heartbreaking to prolong. There were no words or tears left as she packed her belongings into a valise and waited with Olga for the troika to collect her.

Nicholas had provided specific instructions and Olga insisted she took her wolf-skin cloak, fastened round the waist with a leather belt, and boots lined with fur. Anna was too hot and nervous to stay still. After sitting for a time, she stood up and wandered around the cabin looking for something she might have forgotten.

‘You mustn’t worry, Anna Ivanova.’ Olga laid a hand on her arm. ‘My brother will take care of you. He’s a good man.’

As she spoke the door swung open and Nicholas came in. A fur kolpac covered his head and he wore a heavy bearskin coat and reindeer leather to protect his legs. Anna looked away as he embraced his sister. She heard him speaking to her and Olga crying quietly. Then he disengaged himself and turned to her.

‘Is this all you have?’

She nodded and Olga came forwards holding an icon. She held up the painted image of the Virgin Mary and they bowed their heads. ‘May God keep you safe on your journey. May He grant that we meet again…’

She faltered and Nicholas picked up the travelling bag. He went out and did not look back.

As she embraced Olga, Anna felt her cheeks wet with tears. ‘I pray that you and Peter will be happy. God bless you both.’

‘Thank you for everything, dear Anna. And especially for your picture. It will always remind us of you.’

It was the last goodbye before Anna stepped outside. The cold was intense. Nicholas gave her his hand and helped her into the sleigh. She lifted her head for an instant, encountered his gaze and looked away quickly. The roof was lowered as he climbed up to the driving board and then they were off. She turned her head to look back once, then let her chin fall on her chest and closed her eyes.

Her memory of the first part of the journey was clouded by sadness. Swaddled so that she could barely move, Anna tried to hold on to Sasha’s confidence as she recalled her farewell to Anton. She had found him alone and given him a lacquered sandalwood box with a firebird on the lid that she had painted in St. Petersburg. As he stood with his head down, holding both her hands, she was lost for words. Anton was one of the kindest people she had met. If Nicholas hadn’t taken her away, might their friendship have become something more, she wondered? The idea, unimaginable two months before, was somehow comforting. Perhaps, as Sasha said, happiness could be found in this harsh, far away land.

Anna drifted in and out of sleep as the hours and miles passed. She must have been unconscious when they traversed Lake Baikal, for she had no recollection of the crossing – only post houses that smelled of turnips and hard beds hidden by curtains. Nicholas and Stepan spent the nights in the main room by the stove while Anna was relegated to private quarters. She had her own bedclothes, but the post houses were rowdy and it was difficult to sleep.

Wearing thick coats with heads muffled, they climbed into the sleigh at first light, the troika bells ringing as the horses set off. When they stopped during the day, Anna walked about, swinging her arms and stamping her feet. The two men took turns driving and, when Stepan drove and Nicholas lay next to her, Anna could not rest. His superficial civility grated on her nerves. Was he still angry about what she had said in Moscow? There was no way of knowing, but Nicholas Bulgarin was not a man to trifle with and proximity was dangerous.

During hours of wakefulness, she studied his face, how his dark hair grew close to his temples, the strong line of his jaw and sensuous mouth. If she were to draw him, it would be a study in black and white with touches of chalk to bring out the lightness of his eyes. She was intrigued by his isolation and ability to suppress his feelings. What was he thinking behind that cool reserve in his eyes? Had Maria told him about the drawings? Did Nicholas approve? Might he persuade Pushkin to publish them? I must talk to him, she decided. If nothing else, I want him to understand I don’t love Peter. That I know myself better than before. Surely, we’ll spend a few nights in Irkutsk? There will be a chance to speak freely then.

On and on they went, the relentless motion of the sleigh cramping her muscles and rattling her bones, but Anna clenched her teeth and kept quiet. She could stand the physical discomfort. It was the shadowy pain of leaving her family and friends that hurt. I can’t think about them yet, she murmured to herself. I won’t be able to bear it. Later, when I’m stronger, I’ll be able to think about them then… There was too much land and sky, too many trees marching towards a distant horizon. The sheer expanse of Siberia destroyed any sense of time or progress until, when Anna thought it would never end, she saw the lanterns of other sleighs and knew they must be nearing Irkutsk.

They stayed in the city’s only hotel and Anna was given the same suite of rooms she had shared with Sofia – a bedroom and small salon. The upholstery was worn and the curtains musty, but it was a relief to shed the heavy layers of travelling clothes. The first evening, Anna bathed and washed her hair, drying it by the fire before she retired.

She was up early next morning. There was no one to help her so she twisted her hair in a scarf and put on the red coat she had brought from St. Petersburg. She sat by the window, looking down to the street below, and noticed the town was busier than on her last visit. There were children laughing and playing, and the snowy pavements were crowded with people. It must be Maslenitsa, the day before Ash Wednesday. The cheerful atmosphere brightened her spirits. Soon after breakfast, there came a knock at the door.

‘Entrez,’ Anna answered, coming to her feet.

Nicholas came in and glanced around. ‘Is the accommodation to your satisfaction?’

‘We stayed here before. It’s old-fashioned but comfortable enough.’

‘A cut above most hostelries in this part of Russia.’ He paused.’ You should ask me to sit down, you know.’

‘Pray be seated,’ Anna said stiffly, embarrassed by her lapse of manners.

She returned to her chair by the window and Nicholas sat down at the table. He was dressed in a dark frock coat and had shaved off his beard. His body was as lean and tough as his mind, she thought. He looked as if he hadn’t a care in the world – so different from the anxious expressions of her companions over the last months. If only she could appear as calm and confident as he did!

‘How long will we be here?’

‘Zeidler’s been called back to St. Petersburg. I’m meeting his deputy this afternoon but don’t foresee any problems. The authorities believe you’re Madame Brianski’s maid and I’m taking you back to St. Petersburg out of the kindness of my heart.’

‘Which is partly true…’

‘Your outfit’s rather too appealing for a servant girl.’

Encouraged by his more friendly tone, Anna answered with a smile, ‘My mistress gave it to me as recompense for my services.’

‘Did she now? It suits you well, Anna Ivanova. I’m glad you look a little more robust. You were thin as an urchin in Nerchinsk. We need to feed you up before your parents see you.’

‘We ate enough when we could get food. Your aunt would be proud of my culinary skills.’

‘So Maria told me. She sang your praises. She also said you’d been working on studies of the prison. May I be allowed to see them?’

‘My sketchbook’s still packed. I’m not sure you will approve…’

‘I saw the one of Olga and Peter Dashkovy. It’s a generous portrayal.’

Anna sensed the question behind his words. Should she tell him about Peter now?

She dithered and, taking her hesitation as a refusal, Nicholas spread out his hands. ‘I would be honoured to be given sight of them.’

She might have declined, but Nicholas knew about art and she valued his opinion. Going through to the boudoir, she found the sketchbook in her valise and wiped the cover clean before she returned. Placing it in front of him, she stood watching as he turned the pages.

Nicholas said nothing, taking his time to study each one. When he came to the last, he twisted in his chair to look up at her. If she hadn’t known better, she might have thought he was moved.

‘I’m astonished, Anna Ivanova. How can you express such pain and depth of feeling?’

‘When I’m working, it’s as if I’m a channel for something over which I have no control.’ It was difficult to explain but Nicholas was waiting on her words and Anna struggled on. ‘I take what I see in the dark and bring it into the light. They don’t always come out as I expect. Maria hopes Pushkin will circulate them. Do you think they’re good enough?’

‘I think they’re extraordinary. You’ve captured every breath of suffering in that wretched place. My God, the courage of those women!’

She wasn’t accustomed to hearing emotion in his voice. Nicholas’s eyes met hers and then went back to the book. ‘They’re extremely good. However, I advise you not to sign them.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because they’ll provoke fury and get you into trouble. The authorities will suspect they’re by you. As long as they’re unsigned, they have no proof.’

‘What can they do – put me in prison for recording the truth? Besides, you put your name to articles critical of the government and it doesn’t comprise your security.’

‘My liberty’s constantly at risk. The tsar’s hands are tied only because of his late brother’s affection for me – but it won’t last forever. ‘

‘I’m not afraid of the tsar.’ Anna gave him a withering look.

‘I’m sure you’re not, but there’s something you should know. Boris Renin is now an aide de camp to the emperor. It was on account of his good offices that permission was granted for your return.’

‘But my father and mother–’

‘They wrote to the tsar under Renin’s supervision. He was the one who made sure they received a favourable response.’

Anna was dumbfounded. Why hadn’t Nicholas told her this before? It wouldn’t have made any difference, she thought. Sofia would still have told her to go home.

Suspicion began to throb in her breast. Renin wasn’t a man to help without promise of a reward. What had her parents offered in return? She hadn’t thought of him in months but suddenly his face filled her vision. She saw his small eyes and bullet-shaped head, his furze of hair and the way he passed his tongue over his lips to moisten them before he spoke.

‘I don’t want to return to St. Petersburg,’ she said, beginning to be angry. ‘Please could you take me to Moscow instead? I’m sure Princess Zinaida will have me to stay.’

‘Princess Zinaida has left Moscow. I’m told she’s presently in Italy.’

‘Then I’ll stay in a hotel! I refuse to go home and be married off to that man.’

‘If you love someone else, your parents can’t force you to marry–.’

‘I don’t love anyone else,’ Anna interrupted quickly. The room felt airless and she pulled at her collar to loosen it. When Nicholas made no reply, she turned on him. ‘Boris Renin is evil. He’s the one who betrayed our friends!’

‘Of that you have no evidence.’

‘I’ve the evidence of my eyes.’ Anna gave a short, harsh laugh. ‘I saw him with old Princess Volkonsky, wheedling information out of her to use against Sergei. Long before the revolution, he told me there’d come a time when my family would beg for his protection. He knew.’

‘So why should he want to marry the sister of a traitor?’ He came back harder and faster than she expected. Anna tried to think of a suitable retort but could find none and Nicholas continued, ‘Your parents want you home and that’s all there is to it. You’re no more obliged to marry Boris Renin than to marry me.’

Nicholas Bulgarin has no idea, she thought. He’s a rich, independent man. How can he understand my situation, what it’s like to be the only daughter in a disgraced family?

‘I’m never going to marry.’

Nicholas’s eyebrows went up. ‘Really? Are you determined to be a spinster for the rest of your life?’

‘I intend to devote my life to my art. And why not? Your aunt seems happy enough.’

‘Varenka’s surrounded by family and friends. Do you have friends to support you?’

‘All the people I love best are in Siberia.’

The road she had followed since December had come to an end and a breath of melancholy, cold as snow, touched Anna. Somewhere on that long road she had left youth and innocence behind. Hardship and disillusionment had changed her, and her dreams had vanished. She felt her throat constrict as she imagined returning alone to a life of empty comfort. The questions and recriminations. The disapproving superiority of her contemporaries. The sneers, slights and snubs. She dashed the back of her hand across her eyes and hoped Nicholas did not notice.

He stood up, took a turn about the room and went to look out of the window.

‘I can arrange for you to be driven back to Nerchinsk,’ he said without looking round. ‘Is that what you want?’

He waited for an answer, but Anna didn’t answer. She put her hand in her pocket and touched the chotki prayer beads Sofia had given her the evening before she left Nerchinsk. Her fingers curled around the cross at the end, clasping it briefly.

Nicholas broke the silence, his voice kinder. ‘You’ve nothing to fear from Boris Renin. I assure you, when the drawings are circulated, he will withdraw his suit. He rids himself of friends as easily as other people discard yesterday’s newspapers.’

Turning round, he took out his watch and glanced down at it before returning it to his pocket. ‘Go home and make peace with your parents, Anna Ivanova. From then on, your life is your own.’

‘I don’t love Peter Dashkovy.’ The words came from Anna in a sudden rush. ‘I was mistaken in my feelings for him. You said there’s no such thing as everlasting love and you’re right. It’s a beautiful idea – as beautiful and short-lived as a summer’s day.’

‘I referred to a general principle. It doesn’t necessarily apply to you.’

‘Oh, but it does! I’d rather be free than trapped in misery. How long will it take us to reach St. Petersburg?’

‘No more than a few weeks, if the weather holds. I’d like to visit Davinka for a few days on the way.’

‘Your estate in the country?’ She looked at him sideways and was surprised by the unfamiliar warmth in his expression.

‘I remember the first time I laid eyes on you, Anna Ivanova. You were an impudent child. It’s a miracle you turned out alright.’ Her mind went back and she blushed. Her reaction wasn’t lost on Nicholas and he smiled, his eyes alight with amused memory. ‘If it’s any comfort to you, I remain Olga’s guardian and intend to return to Siberia in two years’ time. She’s made up her mind to marry Peter Dashkovy. My sister still has influence with the tsar and no doubt will get her way. If you can face the journey again, you can come with me.’

‘Without a chaperone?’

‘I expect to be married by then and hope my wife will accompany me.’

Anna’s mouth dropped open. ‘To whom, may I ask?’

‘I haven’t yet decided…’

‘But you said you’d never get married. Why have you changed your mind?’

Whether he heard the question or not, she did not know, for Nicholas smiled, made a slight bow and went out. As he left, the door swung slowly shut, leaving a crack of shadow in the passage behind him. Anna’s forehead creased with annoyance. Nicholas was infuriating! He enjoyed provoking a reaction and it maddened her that she always came off worst. Why should she care what he did with the rest of his life?