Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Thirty-Nine
A nna slept little that night, tossing and twisting the sheets into knots before she rose at first light. Her belongings were packed but it was too early to go downstairs and she sat by the window with her travel bag at her feet. Rubin Marinsky had meant no harm, but there was a feeling of dread in her stomach. When she looked at Nicholas, not a muscle in his face indicated that the news was of any interest to him. The conversation had moved on and he had been relaxed at dinner while she was desperate to ask about Elizaveta. The question burned on her tongue, but the opportunity never arose and she had gone to bed in a state of agitation.
The idea of Nicholas with another woman made her feel ill. Why did she mind so much? Because I love him, she thought, accepting the truth without surprise. I’ve loved him since we were in Moscow. I didn’t let myself believe it because Peter stood in the way. I swore never to fall in love again, but Nicholas is different. He has always been there when I needed him – giving me flowers that day by the Neva, bringing Papa home from the revolution, stopping me at the ball in St. Petersburg. He didn’t want me to go to Siberia because he was afraid that I’d be hurt. He’s been the one watching over me. He wouldn’t have gone to so much trouble unless he cared. Surely, he loves me?
For an instant Anna was so happy and her joy so intense, she felt light-headed. Then her heart fell. How many times had Nicholas told her not to trust in love – that it didn’t exist? Her mind went back to the last evening she had spent with Olga and Peter in Siberia. It was then she had understood the meaning of unconditional love. To fear love is to fear life, she thought. Nicholas isn’t a coward. How can I make him change his mind?
If only they could stay at Davinka longer! In five days’ time, they would be in St. Petersburg. She had to find out about Elizaveta Romanov before they left. Better to hear the truth from Nicholas than be told by someone else. As Anna rallied her courage, she caught sight of herself in the glass. She looked pretty in her red coat, but the darkness in her eyes reflected the precipitous feeling inside. I promised not to hold on to him. What do I do if he doesn’t want me in his life? What arguments can I use to convince him? Should I tell him I love him?
With an effort, she relaxed her face and smiled, a soft smile that spread to her eyes, driving away their shadows. I will make Nicholas love me, whether he wants to or not. There must be a way to penetrate his armour. I won’t let that woman entice him back into her arms. The thought of it was unbearable. She couldn’t – would not – let it happen. She tried to steady her nerves as she waited for Ludmilla before they went down for breakfast. She’d hoped Nicholas would there, but he had eaten already and was in his study.
She ate quickly, then went to find him. The door was open and she stood a moment observing his profile as he sat at his desk. Her eyes lingered on his black hair, his chiselled features and strong chin. It was a face she could see without looking and feel without touching. One day I’ll paint him, and it will the best portrait I’ve ever done, she thought, lifting her shoulders as she walked in.
Her shadow darkened the window and Nicholas looked up. ‘I’m just finishing some correspondence. I won’t be long…’
Anna picked a book from the shelves and sat down. She listened to the nib of his quill scratching over paper and turned the pages slowly, waiting until he sprinkled sand over the ink and turned to look at her.
‘Are you impatient to be off?’
‘I’d like to talk to you, if I may.’
‘So, tell me. What is it?’
Anna felt the atmosphere close in around them as Nicholas leant back in his chair. He was studying her as if knew what was coming, and she put down the book.
‘Are you still close to Elizaveta Romanov?’
The collar of her jacket felt tight, scratching her neck. She wanted to loosen it but kept her hands folded on her lap.
‘Elizaveta’s my friend. I’m not in the habit of deserting friends when they’re in trouble.’
‘Is she still your mistress?’
‘It would be indiscreet to answer that question.’
His unresponsive stare told Anna the conversation wasn’t going to be easy. Did he have any idea how hard this was for her? Her heart tightened and her voice thinned. ‘Why did she write to you?’
‘She wanted my advice, which I gave her. There’s no need to be jealous.’
‘I’m not jealous. I’d like to have a clear understanding of the situation between us, that’s all.’
‘I asked you to marry me and you turned me down. There was nothing ambiguous about that.’ Nicholas’s tone was laconic. ‘Are you saying you’ve changed your mind?’
A fly was buzzing against the window. Anna hadn’t expected the question and was caught off guard. That she loved him wasn’t enough reason for her to accept his proposal. She had to know if he loved her in return. If only he’d hold out his arms, she’d tell him what was in her heart, but Nicholas didn’t move, and uncertainty formed in her mind, making her hesitant.
‘Well, then?’
Nicholas was watching her with a penetrating, speculative look that made her nervous. Every word was important and she gave herself time before she answered. ‘I refused your proposal because to marry without love is as base as a priest saying Mass without believing in God.’
His gaze stayed on her face but his eyelids dropped. ‘You know my views on marriage. I’ve never pretended they’re anything but pragmatic. Marriage is an accommodation that’s best entered into with realistic expectations. It’s a working partnership between two people who, if fortunate, are suited to one another. Nothing more.’
He was explaining why, as far as he was concerned, love didn’t come into it, but Anna was only half-listening. She was thinking: I don’t care what he says, he’s not as detached as he pretends to be. I know from the way he holds me at night. I feel he loves me even if he can’t admit it. She fumbled in her pocket for a handkerchief, crumpling it in her hand. Then she cleared her throat with a small cough. ‘Surely, one should have the courage to change one’s opinions sometimes?’
‘It’s not lack of love, but lack of friendship that makes unhappy marriages.’ Nicholas spoke as if her words had no bearing on the subject. His eyebrows didn’t lift and there was no mockery in his voice. His tone was as level and patient as if he were instructing a child. ‘How can two people, under the influence of violent and transient passion, promise to remain in that condition until death do them part? It’s an absurd idea.’
Nicholas was immovable – his strength and intellect, the qualities she admired in him, turned against her. He wasn’t being stubborn for the sake of it but because he dismissed anything that had no rational explanation. There was something implacable at his core and, failing to find an answer, Anna changed tack.
‘I want to know if…’ She paused and felt a pulse jumping in her wrist as she clenched her fists. ‘I want to know whether we’ll meet in St. Petersburg or if you’re still involved with someone else.’
For a moment he hesitated, as if debating whether to tell her the truth or a lie. Then he shrugged. ‘We both have matters to settle in our lives, Annushka. Your family is waiting for you, and I must return to Moscow. You’re welcome to come to Davinka whenever you wish.’
Whether he deliberately misinterpreted her meaning, Anna wasn’t sure. Nicholas would neither admit nor deny his liaison with Elizaveta, and his evasion exasperated her. What was wrong with him? He was a generous and tender lover. Why couldn’t he bring himself to say how he felt? She felt tears coming up in her throat and was afraid she might cry, but pride stiffened her and anger took over.
‘You’re a cold-hearted man, Nicolay Petrovitch. I don’t expect you understand the meaning of fidelity—’
‘Please!’ Nicholas held up his hand in a gesture of restrained forbearance. ‘Let’s leave it there. There’s nothing more to say on the subject.’
Did she hear regret in his voice? If so, it only served to emphasise the finality of the statement. She was aware of a clock striking the hour and came to her feet as Nicholas stood up. Her lips quivered as she tried to find some answering emotion in his eyes. She was desperate for him to say something – to give her a sign that she meant more to him than any other woman in his life. She searched his expression for the smallest hint, but there was none. She was powerless against his cool mind and locked heart.
‘I’m not going to abandon you, Anna. Trust me…’ He spoke slowly. ‘And now we must get ready. The horses will be at the front door in an hour.’
*
It was a tradition at Davinka to sit in silence before a journey, so they went to the kitchen and gathered at the table with heads bowed. Anna’s nerves were strained to breaking point. She tried to pray but couldn’t concentrate. The company rose and moved to the hall. The icon of St. Nicholas was carried through, and Galina held it over their heads, blessing them as they stood on the steps. They were all there: Stepan, looking pale, Liev and Ludmilla, farm workers, grooms and the old men from the kitchen gathered at the front door to see them off. The men wished her well and the women kissed her before Anna climbed into the sleigh and was covered with a mound of shawls and furs.
There was a second driver but Nicholas took up the reins. Accompanied by dogs and ringing bells, the graceful Orlovs trotted out through the gates and the troika headed downhill, running in a wide arc before it emerged from the trees. Then, as if sensing the freedom of the highway, the three horses fanned out in style and broke into a gallop, flashing away to the north.