Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Sixteen
I t was ten o’clock in the morning and Anna’s father was waiting for her in the library. ‘Thank you, my dear. I wanted to talk to you before the others were up.’
Ivan Brianski was seated at his desk and Anna took a chair opposite. Mazra had brought his note with the breakfast tray and she had dressed hurriedly, barely taking the time to do her hair.
A large oriental rug covered the floor and the bureau was littered with papers. Through the half-open door, Anna heard the whisper of a brush as a maid cleaned the marble stairs. The household carried on with its normal routine, but darkness pervaded their home. The first shock had passed but anguish remained, a persistent feeling of doom that shrouded everything. If the prisoners withstood the hardships of the Fortress, they faced a journey of almost five thousand miles in terrible conditions. It would be a miracle if they survived.
Anna had never been afraid before. Now she was frightened all the time. She tried to comfort her mother, but Valentina was beyond consolation. The pain was locked inside and she could not cry. She stayed in her room and, when Anna slipped her arm round her, drew back and gazed at her through misty, vacant eyes. Sofia had been the strongest of them all. A petition had been submitted to the tsar and Maria believed the tsarina was sympathetic. Her Majesty would do everything in her power to persuade her husband to approve the wives’ travel. She sounded confident but Anna wasn’t convinced. Sofia and Maria came from prominent families in society. Their departure for Siberia was bound to attract exactly the attention the tsar hoped to avoid. Surely, he would never agree? And, if he did, would Olga follow Peter and go with them?
‘You’ve always been a blessing to me, dear Anna…’ Ivan Brianski placed his elbows on the desk, using them for support. He had been a vigorous man of fifty. Now, wearing a loose caftan over informal clothes, he looked ten years older. He was unshaven, his face puffy, and Anna felt a stab of pity. As far as she knew, he hadn’t left the house in weeks. ‘I’ve written to your aunt, Tanya, and asked her to come and stay. Your mother’s always cheered by her company.’
‘But I’m here, Papa! And Sofia, too.’
‘Tanya is less involved in this tragic business.’ Count Brianski leant forwards and studied his fingernails, unwilling to meet Anna’s gaze. ‘Please don’t make this difficult for me, Ivitsa . I expect her to arrive tomorrow and trust you to make her feel at home.’
A hazy light fell on the bookshelves and Anna’s gaze wandered around the room. Papa knew that Tanya and she didn’t care for one another and she didn’t understand her parents’ fondness for her mother’s younger sister. Tanya Vladimir was an unmarried busybody. Not so long ago, she tried to persuade them to stop Anna continuing with her art, saying it was an unladylike profession. Thank heavens, Papa had disagreed. He can’t cope anymore, she thought. He’s clutching at straws in the hope that Tanya might lighten the burden that’s crushing our family.
‘Of course, I’ll make Aunt Tanya welcome, Papa. I pray she will help Mama to recover.’
‘Good. Very good.’ Ivan Brianski shuffled the papers on the desk in front of him. ‘There’s something else I must ask of you. I want you to dissuade your sister-in-law from following Maria Volkonsky’s example. I received a letter from Sofia’s parents yesterday. They blame Sasha for destroying her life—’
‘If the tsar grants permission – which is unlikely – the visit to Siberia will only be temporary.’ Anna cut across him before he could go further: ‘Sofia will return before the baby’s born.’
‘But she can’t possibly travel in her present state. Sasha must forbid it.’
‘Then there’s no need for my intervention,’ Anna protested, tears springing to her eyes. ‘You can’t ignore Sofia’s feelings, Papa. She’s devoted to Sasha. She’d rather die than break her marriage vows.’
‘But you will talk to her, won’t you? Sofia listens to you. Do your best to persuade her to stay – for her own sake as well for our grandchild’s.’
Ivan Brianski stood up and came round the side of the desk. He bent to kiss the top of her head, as he used to when she was a child. Anna did not answer. Papa has no right to ask this of me, she thought. I’m not going to tell Sofia what to do. It’s between her and Sasha to decide. She was silent until there came a knock on the door.
‘Yes, come in, James. What is it?’
‘A communiqué from Prince Kochubey, sir.’ The young page came forwards carrying an envelope. ‘It was delivered just now.’
Prince Kochubey was a state councillor and a member of the tsar’s inner circle. Anna had heard her parents speak of him but she couldn’t recall him ever visiting their home. Ivan Brianski took the letter and dismissed James. He went slowly round the desk and sat down heavily on his chair. His hands were shaking.
Anna leant across the desk and took the thick vellum envelope from him. ‘Let me open it for you, Papa.’
Inside was a stiff card. Anna drew out a gold-embossed invitation, glancing over it quickly before she read aloud.
“LE COMMANDANT DE LE MINISTRE D’INTERIOR, PRINCE KOCHUBEY prie l’honeur de la Comptesse et Compte Brianski avec leur fille, Madamoiselle Anna Brianksi, faire passer la soiree chez lui à partir de neuf heures, le douzième janvier, 1826.”
‘Why, that’s wonderful news!’ Ivan Brianski exclaimed, his face brightening as Anna handed him the invitation. ‘The ball will be in honour of Tsar Nicholas. The fact we’re invited proves our family is still in favour.’
‘But Mama’s not well enough. You can’t make her to go. I’m sure the prince will understand.’
‘Once Tanya arrives, your mother will rally. This sorrow will pass, you’ll see. Valentina will never let down our family. We must do everything in our power to atone for Sasha’s dishonour.’
Anna was startled by his words. Papa was behaving like the Raevskys with Sergei Volkonsky, but Sasha was his own son! Did pacifying the tsar mean more to him than his children?
She frowned and shook her head. ‘I won’t accept the invitation, Papa. Please send my apologies to Prince Kochubey.’
Her father’s hand banged so hard on the table that Anna jumped. ‘You will attend the ball and support your mother.’
‘I will not.’
Ivan Brianski pulled back his shoulders and shouted at her, ‘I command you, Anna! Your mother’s right. I’ve been too lenient with you. It’s time you thought less about yourself and acted as a responsible daughter. I will answer the prince immediately and accept on behalf of the three of us. I have no more to say on the matter.’
Anna bit her tongue to prevent a bitter retort. She stood up and walked out of the room. Closing the door behind her, she pressed her back against it. Her world had been shattered and the ground turned to quicksand beneath her feet. Her father had always been so proud of her. Now he accused her of being selfish and irresponsible. It’s almost as if he blames me, she thought. Grief is a poison in your blood that destroys all sense of decency and humanity. How can we go to a reception in honour of the tsar when Sasha’s about to be banished?
Anna was still holding the doorknob behind her back when James came up the stairs from the hall. ‘Excuse me, ma’am. This has just arrived. They didn’t leave a name.’
He gave Anna an envelope without a seal, only her name written in pencil on the front. Glancing at the handwriting, her heart began to race. James was still standing there and she thanked him, then bounded up the stairs to the privacy of her bedroom. She opened the envelope and unfolded a single piece of paper. The writing was faint and she went to the window to read it in the light.
Dearest Anna,
I hope you understand it was our patriotic duty to make a stand and that I willingly forfeit my freedom for the sake of our great nation. Please pray for me, sweet Anna, and forgive any pain I may have caused you. Give me your blessing and console me in my darkness.
You are forever in my heart,
Peter
Anna’s finger traced the lines as she read, first in silence and then out loud. Every word seared into her mind. It didn’t occur to her to wonder how the letter had been smuggled out of prison or to ask James who had delivered it. She had fallen in love, with a young girl’s adoration for a man she admired. Here, finally, was proof that Peter was more noble than she realised. Her spirits soared from the jagged edges of despair. He still loves me, she thought. But why is he writing now? It can only mean one thing. It must be over between him and Olga.
An arrow of doubt pierced her happiness. Surely Peter would have made it clear, if that were the case? He wouldn’t want his words to be misinterpreted. The delicacy of the script indicated that he was weak and hadn’t the strength to write more. Anna pressed the letter to her breast. Closing her eyes, she thought of the last time they had met. The memory came with a hook of pain. If Peter truly loved her, she was prepared to forgive him anything, but she wouldn’t run after a man who was engaged to another.
Coolness came back and her mind collected itself. How could she find out if the betrothal had ended? Nicholas Bulgarin was Olga’s guardian. He must know and was bound to be at Prince Kochubey’s reception. Anna had lost her fear of him betraying her secret, but he might suspect her motives. Suppose he refused to reveal Olga’s intentions? Nicholas was a clever man with an uncanny knack of seeing through her. How to interrogate him without arousing suspicion? It wasn’t going to be easy, but he was her only hope.