Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-One
N icholas had redeemed her pearls in Moscow! He must have gone to the pawnbroker with Varenka and paid all the money. Why hadn’t he told her? And why bring them here and not to Siberia? Had he been so sure of her, even then?
Anna’s first days at home passed in a daze. She was disorientated and Nicholas was constantly in her thoughts. His face was the first thing she saw behind her waking eyelids, his name the last word she uttered before she went to sleep. She tried to move him to the edges of her mind, but Nicholas would not be shifted. She thought of his strong, lean body and dark head resting on her shoulder. Out of a welter of emotions – love, hurt and longing – one feeling never left her. She missed him. She missed his warmth and unusual way of looking at the world. I was too proud, she thought. I have no illusions about Nicholas. He is opinionated and uncompromising. But I love him. I should have told him.
Anna tried not to think about Elizaveta Romanov, but her pale shadow trailed across her mind. Was the princess in the south or staying at one of the royal residences at Tsarskoe Selo less than two hours’ drive from St. Petersburg? Nicholas will never return to her, she told herself, but her moods fluctuated wildly. Some days she was buoyed up with hope, others cast down in despair. The house was full of ghosts, and she sensed her parents’ suffering in every room. Sasha’s exile was a wound that could never be healed, but Valentina tried so hard to be brave, Anna did her best to help her.
There was no mention of Colonel Renin, and Michael Pavel called almost every day. It was a relief to talk to Michael. Anna told him about Siberia and the treatment they received from General Zeidler in Irkutsk. He didn’t ask about Sofia, and she was aware of the way his gaze faltered when she mentioned her name. Something in Michael had changed, but everything was different these days. They were all haunted by sorrow and she was wise enough to tread carefully.
Most of her time was spent with her parents, reading or playing cards with her father and guiding him when he became confused. Every day after breakfast, Anna related the story of her arrival in Nerchinsk. She told them of their first meeting Sasha, playing down conditions in prison and the hardship endured by the women. She spoke of Maria’s piano-playing, Katyusha learning to cook and Sofia’s proficiency in medicine. Their first grandchild was due when the climate in Siberia was at its best and Anna described the countryside as she imagined it in summer. When she spoke of the friendship between the women and the consolation they gave to their husbands, the hint of a smile touched Ivan Brianski’s face.
‘It was good of you to go, Ivitsa. You made them happy. You have a gift for happiness.’
Her father appeared a little better, but time dragged in Nicholas’s absence, and she was desperate to get her drawings to Alexander Pushkin. She sent him a message and received no reply. Pushkin’s work was under the direct censorship of tsar. Had he accompanied the court to Moscow? It seemed unlikely but she couldn’t enquire without arousing suspicion.
Anna went for excursions with her mother, sometimes shopping in the Nevsky Prospekt. The streets were crowded with people in Easter dress – women in black jackets with red sleeves and skirts. Older men had white linen bands wrapped around their legs and youths wore bright belts around their waists and shining top boots. Valentina offered to buy her new clothes, but Anna told her it wasn’t necessary.
‘You’re not in Siberia now,’ her mother protested.
Anna smiled but took no notice. They were upstairs and a blackbird was singing outside the window. It was the best of times to be in St. Petersburg: golden oriels were making their nests and the scent of lilac drifted up from the streets.
‘When did Papa become ill?’ she asked.
‘He suffered a seizure shortly after he sold his horses. Omelko found him unconscious in the stables. Doctor Simeon hopes in time he’ll recover his faculties – especially now that you’re home.’
‘Poor Papa. Does he understand how much the money will help when the baby’s born?’
‘I’ve told him, but he forgets everything. Tell him again, darling. It comforts us both to hear of Sasha and his family.’
Valentina’s luxuriant hair was elegantly dressed, her delicate hands clasped in the lap of her lavender morning gown. A look of anguish crossed her face as she spoke of her son and Anna laid her hand on hers.
‘I’d like to paint a picture of you and Papa together. I want it to be a portrait we can send to Sasha and Sofia. We could even start this afternoon…’
‘How very kind, darling.’ Valentina released a long, pent-up sigh. ‘Only, Princess Galitzine’s invited us to go for a drive with her today. It does your father good to get out of the house. Can we sit for you another day?’
*
Anna waved her parents off and watched until the phaeton disappeared into the traffic. She had pencils and paper with her and went upstairs to the drawing room. She hadn’t drawn in weeks and would make a start by sketching the Easter tree for Sofia. Moving the vase with its birch branches and painted eggs to a table by the window, she stood back to study the composition.
She was vaguely aware of carriage wheels on the gravel outside but took no notice. Whoever it was, she had left instructions not to be disturbed and went on drawing until she heard the door opening behind her. As Anna swung round, Boris Renin walked in, clicked his heels and made a stiff bow.
Her eyebrows drew together in a scowl as she stared at him, her pencil poised in mid-air.
‘I saved your footman the trouble and showed myself up,’ Renin said and closed the door. His was in uniform and his sabre made a slapping sound against his boots as he walked towards her.
‘What on earth are you doing here?’ Anna put down the pencil and folded her arms across her chest.
‘I gather the count and countess have gone for a drive with Princess Galitzine.’ Renin’s lips smiled but his eyes did not. ‘I hoped for an opportunity to speak with you on your own. May I sit down?’
Boris Renin obviously knew everything that went on in the city. He even had the audacity to keep her poor parents under surveillance. How dare he call upon on her uninvited and when she was alone? She was tempted to ring for Josef and ask him to show him out. But Mama will come to hear of it, she thought. I don’t want to cause her further distress. With an irritated sigh, she gestured to a chair and sat down on the sofa as far away from him as she could.
Renin was dressed in a colonel’s uniform and looked pleased with himself. He reminded Anna of a thin, sharp-faced rodent as his eyes slid around the room.
‘My mother didn’t say you were to visit today.’
‘I came to bring a message from His Imperial Majesty. I’m here on behalf of the tsar to welcome you home to St. Petersburg.’
Did he really expect her to believe him? Boris Renin might be in favour with the tsar, but he was here on his own account, of that she was sure. What did he want? Momentary panic flashed through her. Had he found out about the drawings? Of course not! Her sketchbook was hidden in the wardrobe upstairs. No one knew of its existence except herself, Pushkin and Nicholas.
‘I hope you’ve recovered from the journey.’ Renin placed a monocle in his right eye and it caught the light in a disconcerting way. ‘It must have been an arduous expedition.’
‘I’m grateful to Count Bulgarin for escorting me home.’
‘Indeed. He served our purpose well. So, tell me how his pretty sister’s getting on in the land of oblivion.’
‘Miss Bulgarin’s in good health. She’s happy to be with her friends,’ Anna replied tersely.
‘And the other princesses? Are they happy, too?’ He wrinkled his nose as if he’d inhaled a bad smell. ‘Does Nerchinsk offer the pleasures and comforts of St. Petersburg?’
When she did not answer, Renin raised his voice. ‘Are they happy with their chosen lot?’
‘They’re good, brave women and are content enough. Their fidelity and sacrifice is to be admired for they’ve committed no crime.’
‘Do you really think so?’ Renin removed his monocle as he stood up and walked across the room. He took a seat next to her, leisurely removing his gloves and laying them on the sofa between them. ‘His Imperial Majesty was disappointed in you running off and causing distress to your parents. It was for their sake, as much as for your own, that I pleaded your cause with the tsar.’
Did Renin want her to go down on her knees and grovel in gratitude? He was as conceited as he was repugnant and Anna sniffed, not deigning to reply.
‘I gather you made a detour to the Bulgarin country estate on your way.’
How had he found out? Anna knew Renin ran a network of spies but she couldn’t believe there were any at Davinka. Still, she was on the alert.
‘We were attacked by bandits. The count’s coachman needed medical attention.’
‘I’m interested in your new friend Count Bulgarin.’ Renin let the statement linger and his face took on an expression of absorbed interest. ‘He was a protégé of Emperor Alexander yet fraternised with many of the traitors. There’s no evidence he was involved in the revolution, but he’s known to have expounded radical views in the past. Is Nicholas Bulgarin a true tsarist at heart?’
‘I’m sure he’s a loyal subject and respects the tsar – as we all do.’ To Anna’s relief, her words came out with more assurance than she felt.
‘I’m glad to hear it, my dear. And now to the main purpose of my visit. I spoke to your father some time ago. We must decide upon a date for the announcement of our betrothal.’
‘What are you talking about? We’re not betrothed and never shall be!’
‘Don’t pretend to be naive, Anna Ivanova.’ Boris Renin looked down and polished the nails of one hand on his cuff. ‘You’re aware that my intervention with the tsar was dependant on your accepting my proposal of marriage.’
‘I’m aware no such thing,’ Anna said with ice in her voice. ‘Had I been, I would have remained in Siberia.’
Renin’s lips tightened and the muscles of his neck bulged above his tight collar as he swallowed. Annoyance briefly furrowed his brow but was gone the next minute. Slowly, with his eyes on hers, he lifted her hand and pressed it to his lips. His white gloves lay on the seat like a spare hand and Anna stared at them, feeling the skin crawl at the back of her neck.
‘But, my dear girl, I’ve already spoken to your father.’
‘Have you indeed? And why not my mother?’
‘It’s customary to ask the father for his daughter’s hand. Count Brianski will have told your mother of our conversation.’
Anna felt a squirm of nausea in her throat. She snatched her hand free and stood up. ‘You know that my father’s not well. He’s in no state to agree to any kind of contract. How dare you bully an ill—’
‘Control yourself, Anna.’ Renin did not raise his voice but his words cracked like a whip. ‘If Count Brianski’s not well enough to give his consent, then I shall ask the countess.’
‘You will be wasting your time. I’ll tell her—’ the words ‘I detest you’ were on her lips, but she bit them back.
‘You may inform Countess Brianski I’ll call again before the end of the week. I look forward to a more favourable reception then – that is if you want to protect your friends from further harm.’
As Renin came to his feet, Anna shuffled backwards, grinding her palms together as she struggled to hold her temper. ‘Are you blackmailing me, sir?’
‘I’m reminding you of the extent of my influence.’ There was a sly look in Boris Renin’s eyes. ‘You should count your blessings, Anna Ivanova. Most young women would be honoured to receive a proposal from the rising star of the Imperial Court.’
But not many who stand to inherit a small fortune, Anna thought. You want my father’s money, and the only way you can get it is by marrying me. She almost shouted these words aloud but forced herself to answer coolly. ‘That may be so – however, you and I have nothing more to say to each other, Colonel Renin. I bid you good day.’
‘I’ve not finished my business with you, Miss Brianski.’ Boris Renin walked towards the door, following her step by step. ‘And I expect you to keep a civilised tongue in your head in future. Petersburg society demands refinement and courtesy, not the vulgarities of a prison camp.’
‘Get out!’
Anna tried to open the door with her hand behind her back. Her fingers were on the handle but slippery with sweat and she couldn’t make it turn. Renin wasn’t a tall man, but he seemed to tower over her. His face was so close she could see beads of perspiration on his forehead and saliva on his lips. He was going to try and kiss her, and she flinched, letting out a small cry as he took hold of her chin. The next moment the door opened, and James was at her side.
‘Colonel Renin is leaving. Please would you show him out?’
She spoke coldly although she was hot with rage, and Boris Renin released her without a word. He strode over to the sofa, picked up his gloves, then turned on his heel and marched out of the room. His boots and spurs rattled on the stone stairs as he went down. She heard James offer to help him to his carriage but there was no answer. The front door shut, and he was gone.