The Rebel Daughters

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty

T he day before had been wild and wet, but the sun was dipping in and out from behind clouds as they drove into St. Petersburg. Rivulets of water and churned up mud clogged the streets and Nicholas negotiated the troika with care. There was a rawness in the air after months of frost and Anna wrapped her fur cloak tightly around her as they made their way across the city.

How could she forget the poignancy and tumult of spring in the north? Even as the snow melted, pussy willow and apple buds were bursting into blossom. Soon it would be the turn of her favourite, the cheryomukha c herry, with its soft white flowers. The air smelled of the sea and, on every corner, stood women selling armfuls of bluebells, cowslips and sweet-smelling violets brought from the countryside.

Anna looked at the city as if seeing it for the first time. Suspended between sky and water, the capital gave an overwhelming sense of size and space with its long horizon and vast classical architecture. ‘Peter –’ she remembered how Pushkin always called the city by its first name ‘– we’re always falling in love with Peter. It’s the city of our dreams.’

Officers in full regalia crowded the streets: Chevalier Guards in white silver helmets, Cossacks in high sheepskin hats and infantrymen with bright stiff feathers in their caps. In front of the Winter Palace, the square was filled with soldiers preparing for the daily parade. The serene, beautiful city of her birth had become a military capital and the power of the tsar’s army was on full display. Had St. Petersburg always been like this, she wondered as she stroked Mosca’s head? The husky had come with them from Davinka, running beside the sleigh or resting inside, and she was glad of her company.

There had been no chance to talk to Nicholas during the journey. He had driven most of the way and had slept when he lay beside her. Anna felt comforted when he was close, but her heart was heavy with the weight of unspoken words. In a few hours we will go our separate ways, she thought with a drop in her stomach. How can we say goodbye, not knowing when we’ll meet again?

The Neva was running fast as they crossed the Anichkov Bridge, blocks of ice breaking apart with a sound like gunfire. Anna remembered how dead and wounded men were pushed through the ice after the rebellion was crushed, and she shut her eyes with a shudder. When she opened them, figures of people moving along the quayside looked like shimmering pieces of silver dancing in the light reflected from the water. She could see the golden spire of the Admiralty; and then, they were on the Nevsky Prospekt with its colourful shop windows and bookstores, and she caught sight of her home. The gates to the courtyard were open, the front door swinging wide, as Nicholas drew rein.

Josef came out with James close behind and bowed his head. ‘Welcome home, Miss Anna! Blessed be God that you’ve come back to us.’

He pressed the palms of his gloved hands together in prayerful gratitude and James helped Anna out. Nicholas swung himself to the ground as Mazra came running out of the house and fell on her knees.

‘I’m happy to see you, Mazra – and all my dear friends.’ Anna bent down, raising her maid up. ‘Are the count and countess at home?’

‘They’re gone to watch the ceremony on the river.’

So, she had arrived home on the day that winter was officially declared over. There would be a gun salute from the fortress and fresh water from the Neva taken to the Winter Palace for the tsar to taste.

Surprised that her parents had gone to pay their respects, Anna glanced at Nicholas. ‘I hope you’ll come in and take refreshment. The count and countess will wish to thank you for your kindness.’

‘I’d be delighted.’ Nicholas unfastened his cape and gave it to James. ‘May I introduce Mosca to your home?’

The rest of the household had gathered in the hall and Anna spoke to each one in turn before she went up the stairs. Nicholas, with Mosca at his heels, followed her into the drawing room and Josef brought coffee with oatmeal pasties and pryaniki, little cakes flavoured with honey and spices, and glasses of fresh water. ‘Khristos Voskrese. Christ is risen.’ He gave the Easter greeting as he withdrew. Nicholas sat down next to Anna.

The inner frames of the windows had been removed and noises wafted in from outside – a broom sweeping snow from the balcony next door, and a boy whistling in the yard. There were flowers in vases and newspapers on the table. The house had returned to normal, but Anna felt like a stranger. This is no longer my home, she thought. I can’t go back to the person I was before. I can only go forwards.

She looked at Nicholas. A dark stubble of beard emphasised the hollows of his face. A lock of his hair had fallen across his forehead and she longed to reach out and push it back. A helpless, silent sob welled up inside her.

He put down his cup. ‘We must talk about your drawings. Are you sure you want me to persuade Pushkin to publish them?’

‘I haven’t changed my mind.’

‘You know they will cause a furore. Everyone will know they’re by you. No one else could have done them.’

Anna didn’t want to think about the drawings now. She wanted to take hold of Nicholas’s hand and cry, ‘Please tell me you love me,’ but the words crumbled in her throat. Instead, she heard herself say in a small voice, ‘I understand the risks. No doubt I’ll be ostracised by society – if not worse – but I gave Maria Volkonsky my word.’

‘Then I’ll visit Pushkin tomorrow.’ His lips twisted in a slight smile. ‘You’re a woman of rare courage, Annushka.’

‘Tell Monsieur Pushkin I’ll bring them to him as soon as I can slip away unnoticed.’

‘So, you don’t intend to inform your parents?’

Before she could answer, there was a commotion in the hall below followed by the sound of footsteps coming slowly upstairs. Anna and Nicholas were on their feet before they reached the landing.

The door opened and Ivan and Valentina Brianski stood motionless under the arch. For a moment they stared at her. Then, walking stiffly and slowly, her mother came forwards and her arms locked around Anna in a tight embrace.

‘My beloved daughter… Oh, my darling…’ She stood back, reaching out and touching Anna’s cheek. ‘But you’re so thin! Have you been ill?’

‘I’m fine, Mama. It was a long journey, but Count Bulgarin took good care of me.’

Ivan Brianski’s stooped figure shuffled towards her. There was an absent, anxious look in his eyes as he put out his hand and laid it on her shoulder in a weak grasp. ‘Is it really you, Ivitsa?’

His head trembled a little and he blinked as he stared at her. What’s happened to him? Anna wondered with a twist of fear. Has he lost his mind? Doesn’t he recognise me? She saw how shrunken were the muscles that used to bulge in her father’s arms, as Nicholas held out his hand. Her papa looked like an old man, gazing at him as if he were a stranger.

‘I’m sorry it’s taken so long to bring your daughter home to you, sir.’ Nicholas’s tone was relaxed despite the awkwardness of the moment. ‘Anna Ivanova survived the hazards of the journey with steadfast resilience.’

‘You’re our saviour, Nicholas Petrovich.’ Valentina spoke in a croaking, birdlike voice. ‘How can we ever thank you?’

She raised a handkerchief to her eyes and fumbled in her pocket for smelling salts as she sank down on the sofa. Josef led Anna’s father to a chair and helped him sit down. Her parents looked broken and far frailer than she remembered. They seemed to have lost all vitality and Anna was struck by guilt. I shouldn’t have abandoned them without giving any warning. I should have written to them more often… Nicholas remained standing as she sat down and her eyes met his above her mother’s head. This is why he brought me home, she thought. He knew Mama and Papa needed me. Nicholas understands some things better than I do. Does he know I love him?

As the question formed in her mind, Josef came to the door and announced, ‘Captain Michael Pavel.’

Anna stood up quickly as Michael walked in. Without pausing to speak to her parents, he strode over to her and kissed her on both cheeks. ‘Thank God for this blessed day! I’ve been praying for your return.’

Michael’s brown eyes shone, but Anna barely noticed him. She was aware Nicholas was taking leave of her parents. How could she make him stay – or at least promise to come back tomorrow? She thought of all the things she had forgotten to say – the answers she hoped to see in his eyes, even if he didn’t speak the words – but suddenly there was no time.

Nicholas walked over and greeted Michael cordially. Then he took her hand and raised it to his lips. ‘Goodbye, Anna Ivanova. Take good care of yourself.’

A flood of words rushed to Anna’s lips. She opened her mouth to speak but there was a strangling pain in her throat and Michael Pavel answered. ‘Thank you, Nicholas Petrovich. I’m very grateful for your kindness to my dearest friend.’

‘The pleasure was all mine.’ Nicholas smiled briefly at Michael before his gaze came back to Anna. ‘Miss Brianski was an excellent travelling companion. I couldn’t have asked for better.’ He gave her a long searching look, as if memorising every detail of her face, then turned and sauntered towards the door. ‘Come on, Mosca. It’s time to go home.’

A silence fell over the room and Anna heard the sound of his boots dying away. Nicholas was walking out of her life and there was nothing she could do to stop him. He was going away from her, perhaps forever, without knowing her feelings for him. For one reckless, mad moment, she wanted to pick up her skirts and run after him. I can’t just let him go, she thought frantically. I must know when he’s coming back. But Michael had a hold of her arm, and she could only stand and stare blindly towards the window. Michael was speaking, but she never remembered what he said or how she responded - only the sound of bells on the troika’s harness as it drove out of the gates.

‘Thank God in His Mercy for bringing you back to us, darling.’ Valentina signalled to Josef. ‘You must be tired after your travels, Anna. Indeed, we’re all quite worn out by so much happy excitement. Your papa and I will retire and meet with you later when we’ve had a chance to collect ourselves.’

Michael took his leave and, following her parents, Anna made her way up to her bedroom where Mazra was waiting.

‘It’s been terrible here without you – the house was like a morgue.’

‘I’m so sorry, Mazra. I didn’t realise—’

Anna stopped as her eye fell on a red jewellery box lying on the dressing table. She looked on in amazement as Mazra picked it up. She unfastened the clip and lifted out Anna’s precious zhemchuzhina pearls. She had left them in the pawn shop in Moscow. How could they possibly be here? There was a rushing in her ears and Anna swayed on her feet as she stared at them.

‘Count Bulgarin brought them with him when he visited.’ She heard Mazra’s voice as if from a great distance. ‘I’m glad you decided to send them home. It meant we still had something of you with us. Will you wear them this evening to celebrate?’