Chapter 22 Katherine—Another Horrible, No Good Day
KATHERINE—ANOTHER HORRIBLE, NO GOOD DAY
The sun begins to set as I finally arrive at Anya House. Today has been one of the worst in my life. That’s not an easy thing to admit, given that two weeks ago, Jahleel almost died thinking I hated him, and then I watched my daughter cry and say she wanted me banished.
Today shows me again that I care about my reputation. Yet I’ll pretend all is well. I don’t know how to stop pretending that I don’t matter.
My horse slows, then stops. I look at the mournful chrysanthemums waving at us. They laugh at me creeping into Anya House. My jittery stomach turns as a groom steadies my chocolate mare.
Another servant comes for the reins. Both move about their duties, noticing the egg stains along the dray’s walls.
The younger one helps me down. This time, his eyes grow wide at the yellow spot on my carriage dress. His mouth twitches. He manages to ask, “Are you alright, Lady Hampton?”
The lacy scarf I pull over the biggest stain does a poor job and blocks none of the rotten-egg smell. “I’m fine, sir. Just a little trouble today. Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
Both servants look aghast. “Lady Hampton,” the young man says. “Would you like the dray cleaned in the coach house?”
Would I ever. I nod and try to find my most elegant voice. “To be sure, I had a little mishap, but all is well. Have no concerns.” I lift my head. “Thank you.”
I saunter past them, past the haunting chrysanthemums that say my days shall be filled with mourning and enter Anya House.
Servants move about their duties. I act like nothing is wrong and step onto the grand stairs.
“Lady Hampton?”
Mr. Steele’s deeply proud tone stops me. “Ma’am, long day today?”
“Too long,” I say without turning around. I dash up a few more steps, hoping no rotten egg is stuck on the back pleats of my gown. “Hope Lada has been entertaining you?”
“Yes, the kitten has. Are you well? You sound different.”
“Just tired. Do you mind continuing to entertain Lada?”
“Of course. Are—”
“Oh, I’m late.”
Making it to the top of the stairs alone seems a blessing. Lydia’s giggles float to my ear. She’s still in the library. I have a chance to watch her lessons. The princess said today she’d have my daughter instructed in geography.
I dash into the room. A very old man with a long white beard hovers over maps.
“Katherine!” Lydia jumps up and points. “You made it in time to see the maps. I found St. Petersburg.” She dances around. “Oh, Katherine. I …” Her head tilts more toward me. Her eyes glitter, then grow big. “What happened to you? Did you fall off the dray?”
“Something like that. How is the—”
She rushes over to me and tugs me to kneel. Her little hands touch the bruises on my forehead, my cheek. “You look hurt. I don’t want you to get sick.”
“You don’t want me sick?”
“Goodness, no. I don’t want you hurt, either.”
I reach my arms out to her. And she hugs me—a real hug, neither forced nor fake.
And I begin to weep.
The tutor backs to the door. “Lady Lydia, I’ll see you tomorrow. We must have fewer interruptions.”
“Yes, sir.” When the man leaves, she tells me, “Stop. Stop sobbing. Katherine, I told you I don’t want you hurt. Why are you crying?”
“Lydia. I’m crying because you care.” I’d flood the library with my tears, all the way to the top shelf, if she’d say she still loves me.
She puts her little brow to mine, something I’ve seen Jahleel do with her. “I can be mad and still care. I’m not a baby. I can have lots of emotions. It’s good. And healthy.”
“You’ve been spending time with Aunt Scarlett.”
“Yes.” Lydia looks both ways. “She’s Princess Grama’s favorite.”
Scarlett should be. She’s keeping Jahleel and Lydia well. I stand up. “Let me go clean up. Maybe we can read later.” I give a long yawn. “Or the morning.”
“Morning is just fine. Go rest.” She goes back to writing something on a large piece of paper. It looks like Russian, the Cyrillic language.
I turn and walk right into the princess.
Her eyes sweep over my bruised face to my stained slipper toe. “Lady Hampton, may I have a word with you?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I leave sweet Lydia and brace myself for a conversation with a woman who’s mad and doesn’t care for me at all.
Walking fast, just shy of a run, I head into my bedchamber, but the princess follows me. “Lady Hampton, I must speak with you.”
Maids are in front of me. They get a good look at me and giggle.
I try not to let them know I notice; I just want to be alone.
When I open the door to my room, I’m gutted.
Without my permission or input everything has changed—new white furniture, and a vase of chrysanthemums sitting on a writing desk. “Why did he do this?”
The princess follows me into my room. “My son has busied himself funding you a new wardrobe.”
I light a sconce and together we observe a bed dressed in scarlet.
A pile of blue velvet boxes with scarves and hairpins sits near the footboard.
My small silver jewelry box centers a glass-topped vanity that hosts other velvet boxes.
Every drawer has new things. I pull out new silver stockings and a sheer nightgown. “Guess the duke’s done with reading.”
“What are you talking about, Lady Hampton? And why do you look so disheveled? Is this what working does to women?”
When I turn back to the writing desk and the vase of those mocking yellow chrysanthemums, my eyes fill with more tears.
The smell of chrysanthemums, musky and slightly peppery, reminds me of rainfall and sorrow.
I want to remember the flowers in the gardens of the Winter Palace where Jahleel first kissed me.
But I can’t. I smell death.
“Lady Hampton, I need an explanation.”
“What?” Throat closing, I put my back to the princess and fight for my voice. “What have I done wrong now?”
“You’ve returned late to Anya House.”
“I’m unaware of a curfew.”
Her footfalls sound closer. “Lady Lydia was anxious. I don’t want her upset.”
Does this woman think I want my daughter under any strain? “I was able to see her. She showed me St. Petersburg on the map. Where you and Jahleel will take my child.”
“Why aren’t you looking at me, Lady Hampton?”
“No reason.”
“It is bad enough that you work—” She spins me around and stares.
Swiping at my eyes, I say, “I run my father’s company. Everyone does their part. A driver didn’t show. No one else was available. I’ll not disappoint a customer like I have everyone else in my life.”
She tows me to the mirror. “Who did you disappoint to get this?”
In the candlelight, I witness my bruises up close. “A cosmetic will hide it.”
“Who did this to you? Do you have another lover? Is he beating you?” She glares at me. “I don’t care what has happened. No man should ever put his hands on a woman.”
“No one is beating me.” My chest hurts. “I have no lover. No one at all.”
The woman folds her arms. “Then these bruises weren’t from a man?”
“I was pelted with rocks. People think I’ve come to defraud or corrupt the men of Mayfair.”
“Nyet. You just defraud the ones from St. Petersburg.”
“Jahleel knows everything now. And he knows why. I was trying to protect Lydia and my family.”
“And yourself. You keep trying to forget that, until they throw stones.”
Unable to figure out if she’s being understanding or just laying a new trap to humiliate me, I trudge away to the closet.
“Augh.” I cover my mouth. “There are new fancy gowns in here. Nothing of my own, not one thing.”
“You should change into something that doesn’t smell of rot. Something with no stains.”
How could she smell anything in this room of funeral flowers? “These frocks are for parties, not to go and read to the duke.”
“Katherine, do I need to send for one of the Carews? That sister of yours can fix you.”
The princess seems sort of kind. It’s a trick. A trap to prove again how unworthy I am. “There’s no fixing anything. I’m beyond helping.”
She grabs my shoulder. “I want the truth! Why are you filthy?”
“Princess Elizaveta, I told you the truth. I drove a route and found servants standing in my path. They threw rocks and eggs while others chanted ‘Jezebel.’”
My hands fist. I know I’m shaking. “And when your son sees me … He’s trying to be generous, maybe romantic, but this will upset him. Being angry will jeopardize his recovery. That will be my fault, too.”
“Then don’t lie with him tonight.”
“I read! That’s it. Even if I wanted more, he just wants me to read.”
She picks up a nightgown that’s translucent with lace at the hem. “My son has changed his mind.”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what he wants. He hasn’t even tried to kiss me again, not since Lydia told him to banish me.”
She shakes her head. “The child is no longer mad at you. She frets about you. She can read words from the paper.”
“And hear the servants talk. I don’t know what to do.”
She puts a hand to my chin and lifts it. “Tell Jahleel about the servants. And take a bath. You need one. And give Lady Lydia more time.”
I’m stunned. “You’re being nice to me.” I lean against the vanity, trying to calm down. “How much? The months Jahleel has given me will be done soon enough. I don’t know what to do to keep Lydia or your son here.”
She folds her arms, wrinkling the finely woven sleeves of her mustard-colored gown. “Then don’t read. Tell my son you are tired. You have a headache. And tell him to banish any laughing maids.”
“No terminating anyone. And no more lies. He’ll not honor our agreement if I don’t read to him each night.
He’ll take Lydia away sooner. I won’t be able to make things up to either of them.
I’ll never be forgiven. And if one or both of them gets ill traveling in the cold to St. Petersburg … that will be my fault.”
I’m shaking so hard that I barely feel her grab me with both hands. “Get control of yourself right now. I command it.”
“Why? I’m pathetic. I’ve lost. I’ve lost everything. My clothes aren’t even here. I am nothing. I was Katherine. I was supposed to be great. Then I made a mistake, and now I’ll never be great.”
The princess shakes her finger at me. “Now you listen, Katherine. If your mother were here, she’d slap you and make you take command of yourself.”
“My mother wouldn’t. She’d never—”
“Then I would tell her to. Everyone listens to me.”
“No. Not everyone will obey you. I’d never.”
“Precisely, you once stood up to me. You had … you have dignity. You are brave. That is what my son has always seen. If you want more than reading, be who you truly are: Katherine the Great.”
I want to embrace the princess as if she were my mother, but I stand still covered in rottenness. “I don’t know what to say, other than thank you.”
“You can be great and not perfect. You are human. I see you trying to do your best. Sometimes, you will fail. Failing is part of life. The only way to be assured you fail no more is to be ready for the grave.”
I step away and look at her wise, gentle face, dark olive like my father’s. “How can you be so kind?”
“Your daughter. Despite everything, you have raised her to be smart. She sees everything.” The princess goes to the vanity, and picks up the chrysanthemums. “Lady Lydia says these flowers filled the parlor of the dacha on Ground Street when your mother and your father passed.”
“Mums were my mama’s favorite. Papa sought them out and brought them to her to make her smile. Always after a bout of sickness. Then people brought them to our house when she died.”
“That’s a lovely tribute.”
“And they were present when my brother, Scotland, passed. My father put some on the grave of my newborn—your grandson, your son’s heir. I see these petals and how they fade and curl away. That’s what I think of. Death smells like this to me—pervasive, strong, inescapable.”
She smiles a little as she touches the petals. “For me and all from St. Petersburg, they are hardy. A sign of survival.”
“And that is why you were right, Princess Elizaveta. You were right. Your son and I are too different.” Salty tears sting my hurt cheeks.
“How do I make things up to him? I can’t stand the flowers he loves.
I couldn’t watch him fight the world while I worried about his health.
And I lost his son, the most important part of his legacy, because I was scared and selfish and wanted desperately to be away from death. ”
“My heart broke watching Anya suffer. It broke more when she left. I thought of all the things she … she and I will miss, but I don’t regret a moment of her life, even sitting by her bedside. She said I was a comfort. I must believe that.”
Oh. Goodness. Now, I made the princess cry. That must be a punishable act. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean …”
She looks at me with wet, tear-stained gray eyes.
“Jahleel was never as sickly as Anya. She suffered so much. I think Jahleel suffers in silence. Pretending he had spring colds. Laudanum is prescribed for everything, even the monthly womb discharge. I had no idea he was as bad off, not until Anya died.”
“You’ve lost a daughter, Princess Elizaveta. You know how it feels. Don’t take Lydia away from me.”
“My sympathies are not lost. But this is out of my hands. Jasha has recovered. The Scarlett sister says he wishes to go to St. Petersburg to show Lydia our proud lineage.”
“Lydia has one here. Come one morning on a coal run. Let me show you Wilcox Coal. My father, her grandfather, worked very hard to create it.”
“Yes, the man you pretended was Lydia’s father, instead of the generous man recovering here.”
She crumbles the flower and tosses the petals into the wastebasket.
“Jahleel’s father, my Andrew, came here to fight for his father’s rights and our marriage.
Jasha did the same. Legacy means nothing amongst swine.
They’ll never honor him or you. They won’t think of him as good as them.
So why care what they think? These pigs only learned to bathe and to be civilized from the Moors.
Another group of dark people who they owe but refuse to acknowledge. ”
“It is easy for you to say. You’re a princess.”
“It is hard. I am a widow and mother who almost lost everything because of hate for my family. I’ll not lose another thing. My granddaughter will not, either. That means you must be safe. People who throw things will eventually use heavier weapons.”
She touches my cheek like I stroke Lada’s limp leg. “I know what we do. We try some ointment.”
“What about Jahleel and Lydia and Wilcox Coal?”
“I’m not finished,” she says. “Tell my son what has happened. Don’t treat him like he’s of no use.”
Shaking my head, I sit on the bed. “How can I ask Jahleel for one more thing?”
“Katherine?” Jahleel’s voice comes through the door to his suite.