Chapter 21 Jahleel—Getting Back to Normal
JAHLEEL—GETTING BACK TO NORMAL
It’s been two weeks since I faced my mortality. In my bedchamber, I’m still afraid to dress for bed, but I’ve found pantaloons more comfortable to sleep in than breeches.
Mr. Steele ordered these dark ones with silver threading at the waistband and knees. They make me look as if I’m heading for a formal event, not to sleep.
My days are simple. I stay in my bedchamber, write, read correspondence, and enjoy time with my daughter. Lydia is everything.
“And Mrs. Cantor says my math is good. Twelve plus twelve is twenty-four.” Lydia dances and spins, telling me about her lessons. We often have dinner together by my fireplace.
When I look at my little girl celebrating life, it feels like a royal occasion.
“Papen’ka, are you better?”
“Da,” I say to the innocent cherub. I fold my arms and lean back against my headboard. “I’m vastly improved.”
I hate to admit it, but Scarlett’s weeds may have made a difference. Of course, it could be hearing such love in my daughter’s voice that’s helping me rebound. Or it might even be the mistress who visits faithfully at ten to read me to sleep.
“I’m learning the Russian alphabet. Well, I am trying. It’s very confusing. Katherine told me to learn a little bit at a time. That’s a good plan.”
I sit up. “Your mother came to your lessons?”
“Yes. She always comes now.” Lydia’s tone sounds excited as if I’ve missed something obvious. “She sits in the library watching me and Princess Grama.” Lydia bites her lip. “She’s been good. Don’t tell her I told.”
“It’s no secret, Lidochka.”
“But you didn’t know, Papa Duke.”
My child has a point. I clear my throat. “I mean, it’s not wrong. You should spend more time with your mother.”
She shrugs and swirls around. The woven silk gown she wears, with gold and crimson stripes, has trim plaited about the neckline. It matches the delicate braids done up in her chignon.
“Papen’ka,” she says as she climbs onto the bed, rumpling the burgundy tapestry covering the mattress and linens. “Have you met the tzar?”
“Once. Tzar Alexander is an impressive figure. He was very liberal in his youth. Now, not so much. With age …”
My dorogaya gapes at me with innocent, wide eyes, dark and sparkling like her mother’s. I guess she doesn’t want to hear about how men age. I change tactics. “He defeated Napoleon.”
“A warrior! I knew it. I bet he’s strong and brave like you.”
While bravery is determined by circumstances, I can admit he probably is. Alexander has no known sickness. “You’re a precious daughter. Speaking of precious, Mr. Steele says you’ve made friends with Lada.”
“Yes, while Katherine’s gone, I keep the kitten. We don’t play so much. She doesn’t crawl too good.”
“Does that make you like her less?”
“No. I mean, nyet. I love Lada. I always wanted a kitten, but Other Mother, Katherine’s … not mine, she didn’t want a cat.”
I brush the curls from her eyes. “You have the truth, dorogaya, and access to a kitten. That’s a lot.” I sit her on my lap. “Have you forgiven your true mother?”
She shrugs her shoulders. “She says she won’t take me from you, but …”
“But what, Lydia?”
“Don’t know if it’s true. Katherine’s been so mean to you. Now she’s nice.” The child reaches up and hugs my neck. “I don’t like being scared. I’ve been scared a lot since you were sick.”
Feeling her little body in my arms, knowing this is flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone, overwhelms me. When I can speak clearly, I say, “I’ve written to you today. Since I found out about us, I write a little note every day.”
Her dark eyes light up. “Where? Let me see.”
“No, not now. When you’re older.”
She sits back down and pouts. “Why tell me if I can’t see it?”
“The letters aren’t for now. They are for when I am unable to be with you.”
Her lips pucker. “But you said we’re not going to be separated.”
“Lydia.” I hold her small face in my palms. “No person is here forever. My papen’ka is gone. I’m lucky that my mother is still with us.”
“I knew it. You’re dying again.” She starts to cry, and I keep her close until she calms. I hold her a long time, long enough for me to calm and remember how it feels to be loved this completely.
“Dorogaya. I’m solid. My heart is beating. I’ve no plans to go anywhere without you.”
She sniffles.
I wipe tears. “Listen to me. I couldn’t always be with my father. I only got to spend the summers with him. But he wrote me often. I treasure those letters, even though he is gone.”
“So you’ll keep making them for me?”
“Yes. That way, you’ll always remember how much I love you. You’ll know that I think of you every day. There will be advice about everything. Your mother says I’m full of it.”
“But … But what if I get sick and not do so good? I’ll not know what you said.”
Her eyes shimmer. They might as well be broken glass, the way they reflected the hurt and fear slicing me open.
I put my brow to her innocent, pain-free countenance.
“You have my blood, my sickness. We have to fight every day, no matter what. But you’ve made me think.
I’ll write something extra for each Saturday.
You can read that one at every week’s end. ”
She hugs me tightly. I don’t want ever to let go, but I must. We all must.
Her head tilts to the side. “You sure you’re not going anywhere?”
A long hair falls over her eye, and I brush the thick, soft tresses, so like Katherine’s, behind Lydia’s ear. “Not trying to. I don’t plan on going anywhere without you. Lydia Jahleelovna Charles, you are my heart.”
The knock on my door sounds imperial.
“Jasha?”
“Yes, Mamen’ka,” I say. “You may enter.”
A footman opens the door, one of her servants adorned in a mantle and light blue-and-silver pantaloons.
“There you are. Lady Lydia, I thought you’d be reading in the library with Lady Hampton.”
My daughter’s shoulders lift. “She didn’t come.”
“Odd. She begged for that time.”
My mother gazes at me like I know the unpredictable woman’s schedule. I only know where Katherine is at night.
“Spending time is important to her,” I say with a grin. Then I look at my mother again. Her dark eyes and tight frown suggest danger. “Is there something I should know?”
“Jasha doesn’t know something going on in his household? Are you sure you are feeling well? Or are you too comfortable hiding in here?”
She knows my routine, my exercises to bring my limbs under control, and how I save up my strength to take the stairs. Until I feel confident, I don’t.
Katherine and I get along. It’s comfortable, and I don’t believe in change. I smile at Mamen’ka. “Problems come to me.”
“Nyet. Not if they are as scared of the future as you. You might be surprised brave women—or brazen ones—might be frightened little girls when no one’s watching.”
“I get scared, Papa Duke. Katherine and Princess Grama tell me everything is going to be fine.”
I grab my cane. “It will be fine. Lidochka, go with your grandmother. I may need to do a little work in the household.”
Looking confused, she nods. “Will you write me a letter about what’s going on so I can read it when I’m older?”
“Most certainly. It will be quite entertaining. Your mother and grandmother are full of surprises.”
“Katherine is a proud oddity. I’m told a diamond is nothing more than coal under pressure.” My mother waves Lydia toward the door, but my child hesitates.
She turns back to me. “I will write you on Saturdays, too. And you don’t have to wait to read them. That way you can keep them safe with your papen’ka’s and Aunt Anya’s.”
I hadn’t mentioned my sister’s letters. I have a few. Then I look at my mother. She has been telling Lydia about our St. Petersburg life. “Thank you, Mamen’ka.”
My mother’s frown lessens. Her sharp grayish-brown eyes tell no lies.
Her encouragement to get me moving is for Lydia.
This little girl faces the same challenges, but without knowing if she’ll live as long as I have.
The lump in my throat grows so large it hurts.
I power my way to stand as tall and as straight as I can.
Lydia sails to me, hugging my legs.
My hands sink into her hair, her fine braids. “I can’t wait for Saturday. We’ll read together.” I bend and kiss the top of her head, whispering blessings that I trust the saints and my mother to honor—to keep my child safe and healthy and fearless.
“Jasha, leave your quarters,” Mamen’ka says. “Go control your domain. A diamond in the rough needs you, too.”
My mother is an honest but protective Russian bear. I nod and brace for this new problem—something I must solve: a purely Katherine-inspired situation.
Mother and granddaughter head down the corridor. Their chatter disappears by the time I step outside my bedchamber. Maids leave Katherine’s new quarters. She stays in the room next to mine and visits through the connecting closet.
Last week, my favorite modistes visited her. Katherine will be out of gray by tonight. A generous man makes sure his mistress is well appointed. I may be pale, but she needs color.
Faithfully, she comes at night to read, always at ten, never early or late.
Katherine seems confused most nights, because I fall asleep as she reads. The woman leaves my chambers mostly untouched.
I feel stronger, but every mirror says I’m not ready for much. In the corridor, I rest in front of the large silver one by the grand stairs. My cheeks seem gaunt. More threads of gray appear in my hair. If I waste away to nothing, I’ll look like an old man.
A sigh comes from the depths of my soul. It’s a dream to become an old man.
Heading to the steps, my energy depletes. The beautiful stairway I carpeted in crimson could be lava from a spewing volcano—the danger of it keeps me from going down.
A little dizzy, I grip the rail—my passion wanes. I won’t go to the lower level to find Katherine or Mr. Steele.
No wonder I’m useless to her.
Everyone must think I’m fragile. How am I to be of any help, if I’m kept in darkness? Steele has provided a list of men, proper candidates. I haven’t the energy to review them myself. This illness robs me of the one role I’m good at, being a protector.
Face in a book, Scarlett enters the grand hall from the corridor leading to the kitchen. She must’ve mixed tonight’s batch of tea.
Lovely in pale green and those faithful dust-free, polished boots, she stops and looks up. “Your Grace, you must be feeling better. You’re up.”
I nod and pretend I’m not dizzy. My fingers clamp harder to the rail and my cane. The marble cap bores into my palm. It has more strength than me.
Switching between reading and eyeing me, she comes up. I count twenty-two steps that her boots touch before standing on the landing. Her eyes search me and detect weakness. “Shall I help you back to your room, Your Grace?”
“Maybe.”
She squints and snaps her notebook shut. “You’re not thinking of going down the steps.”
“Maybe.”
If Scarlett had spectacles, she’d be looking over them, disapproving. “I wouldn’t advise it. Not until you feel as if you can. Do you feel up to this?”
Does every woman but my mistress run my life? “Maybe.”
“Your Grace.” Steam comes out her nostrils like the beautiful, determined dragon she is. “Tumbling down these steps and landing on the marble below will break even your hard head. But you might also break a back or leg, making recovery more difficult, or triggering the sickness.”
“So you’re saying you don’t think I can make it?”
Her burning gaze back at me means she finds no humor in my question.
Scarlett comes closer. “Whatever it is you’re hunting for, it’s not worth it. Not yet.”
“Do you know what’s troubling your sister?”
Before she answers, the maids pass by us. They’re carrying sacks of gray. That must be the remnants of Katherine’s old wardrobe. I smile. “Steele had the modistes do their job. Good riddance to mourning.”
Scarlett extends her arm to me. “If you come with me to your room, I’ll tell you all I know.”
When I take her hand, she slows her gait. “Your Grace, there’s been trouble with Wilcox Coal. The Palmerses are sending a demand letter asking for its ownership, or they’ll cause more scandal.”
Though now I am angry enough to try dashing down the stairs, I keep walking with Scarlett. “Their son almost bankrupted the business, and now they want the restored company. Unbelievable. But why, Scarlett? The Palmerses are part of the ton. They’re not expected to work.”
“It must be to hurt Katherine. They know how much she loves it. They can’t be blind to how hard she’s been trying to grow Father’s company. What better way to make her pay for whatever slight they believe she’s given them?”
“Because she was once married to me.” I drop Scarlett’s arm and swing my cane. “I’m ready to strike down her enemies.”
But my legs are not. I sway.
Scarlett quickly supports me. “Back to your room. You can strike things later.”
Acquiescing, I take her arm. Halfway down the corridor, I ask, “What did you put in my tea? What is it supposed to do? I have energy, but I’m still weak.”
“Herbs are to improve your health. The green tea helps with mental clarity. Nettle fights fatigue, and some say it can rejuvenate the blood. Rosemary aids circulation, and ginseng for stamina.”
“Can you add something for appetite? Katherine says she likes me thick.”
“Thick, as in thicker?” Scarlett colors. Maybe the translation isn’t quite right.
“You’re a woman. You must know what she means by thick.” I flex my arm. “Thick.”
“Oh, I know, alright.” She nods. Her cheeks burn. “I’ll add wormwood, fennel, and angelica. These herbs can warm the blood and stir passions. But let me know if there are any unintended consequences.”
What could be the consequences of having an appetite? “I want to be thick for her.”
“Yesss. One of those will do that.” She holds my door. “You and my sister have been getting along, if you’ve had these discussions.”
“I thought so, Scarlett, but she’s keeping secrets again. I’ve heard nothing about the Palmerses’ complaints. She comes to me every night … to read. She should’ve told me.”
Now Scarlett folds her arms. “Why would she want to talk about awfulness when you two are reading?”
“She could stop. I’m patient. She can pick back up.”
Scarlett shakes her head; her light olive complexion is now cherry red. Ringlet curls jiggle close to her chin. “I’ll have the new tea ready tonight. It sounds as if it has much work to do. It may help you focus. I think you need to focus.” Her head turns from side to side as she walks away.
Why does it feel like we’ve just had two different conversations?
Doesn’t matter.
Steele will discover what’s happening and help me stop the greedy Palmerses whether my mistress wishes for my assistance or not.