Chapter 20
Returning home that night, Aurelia was afraid to nap, thinking she might miss her alarm again.
But her father had commented on her frequent yawning, and she had to admit she might not be very good company without getting a few hours’ sleep.
She still wasn’t sure whether or how to attempt mending fences with Vronsky, but she’d just have to wing it.
She set her alarm, turned out the lights, and was asleep in no time.
Aurelia woke to her alarm at eleven thirty through sheer force of will.
After changing her clothes and downing a cup of coffee, she stood near her desk as the clock began striking twelve.
She held her breath until the first mist appeared above the books on the table and exhaled in relief as the characters arrived in front of her, one by one.
They said their hellos, though she noticed Vronsky kept himself apart. That wasn’t exactly out of character for him, but she guessed he was likely just as unsure as she was about how to move past last night’s argument.
Eventually, the crowd around her thinned and he stepped forward.
“I was afraid you might choose to sleep through yet another visit this evening, after our… disagreement.”
Aurelia narrowed her eyes—had Count Vronsky just made a joke? The tentative smile he gave her confirmed it.
“I definitely considered it,” she said with a laugh.
His smile grew wider and he nodded before turning to the others.
“I know we are all eager for Aurelia’s company, but might I monopolize her attention for a brief time?” He turned back to Aurelia and added, “With your permission?”
“Of course.”
Marmee nodded her encouragement as Aurelia followed Vronsky up the spiral staircase.
“Thank you for giving me a moment to speak with you, Aurelia,” Vronsky began once they were settled on the window seat. “I want to apologize for my anger when last we spoke. It was ungentlemanly and I hope I did not cause offense.”
“No, you didn’t. I’m sorry too. I know I raised some new ideas—maybe I should have given you a little more time to get used to them.”
Aurelia took a breath, prepared to launch into some of the talking points she’d been thinking through earlier that day, but Vronsky beat her to it.
“After you departed last night, I had the opportunity to speak with some of the ladies in the shop.” He gestured below, where the others were gathered.
“Several of them, Marmee and Rachel, are from a period of time near enough to my own. They may not be Russian, but they understand many of the circumstances and perspectives of my time.”
She couldn’t tell where this conversation was going but saw that Vronsky was working hard to get through it.
“I learned from them that, as you suggested, they were not happy with the limited choices available to them. Marmee said she felt raising her daughters was exceptionally important work, but once they were grown, she said she often felt an occupation—outside her home—might have been appealing.”
His expression, sincere until now, showed some uneasiness as he went on.
“She also expressed the opinion that having a vote in political matters would be of interest to her, as she feels her husband cannot adequately speak for her.”
Aurelia tried not to smile, thinking how much it cost Vronsky to say those words. He paused again, and she decided he might need a life ring.
“And Rachel? What did she have to say?”
“She indicated that she would like to run her own business, as you do, or at least run her own affairs. She expressed frustration when, after her mother’s passing, she had not been allowed to ‘take the reins,’ as she put it, and manage her own finances and living arrangements.”
“I knew that must have annoyed her!” Aurelia cut in.
“I find that if, as Marmee suggested, I put myself in their position, I can understand that not having choices about my actions would be frustrating indeed. In fact…” He hesitated.
“It has led me to wonder about Anna, and her options. Rather, her limited options, as you have described them.” Another pause.
“I wonder what her life might have been if she had been free to make the many choices that were made for her by others… including myself.”
Aurelia heard guilt and anxiety in Vronsky’s voice.
How many times must he have asked himself what he could have done to change Anna’s path, to make her happy?
Aurelia’s years of reading and re-reading the novel, her reflections on its themes and characters, flooded her mind.
She’d often wished she could reassure the Vronsky in those pages that he wasn’t to blame for Anna’s death, and now she had the rare opportunity to tell him in person.
“What I understand of Anna is that she was a product of society,” Aurelia began slowly. “She knew how to shine at social gatherings, how to dress to the best effect, how to enter a room and make all eyes turn to her.”
Vronsky looked across the mezzanine, as though he were picturing Anna as Aurelia described her.
“When that was stripped away because people cast her out over her relationship with you, she had nothing left.”
“You say she had nothing left—she had me.”
“Exactly, but only you. She’d lost her friends and her son, and then you were all she had. Today, a woman can get a divorce and uproot her life. She can choose a career over marriage or have both without being cut from her circle of friends. Anna didn’t have those options.”
Aurelia was warming up to her literary analysis but had to remind herself that she wasn’t writing a thesis paper; this was a discussion about someone Vronsky had known and loved, someone who’d been very real to him.
“Without society and her marriage, without the things she’d been raised to be, she was left to put all her energy into you and it destroyed her. You had an exterior life but Anna was trapped at home, waiting for you.”
“That does not paint a very flattering portrait of me,” he said, growing visibly upset. “I have always known that her position, her fall, was my fault. I acknowledged that to her countless times. Now there is even more to be ashamed of, it seems.”
“No, Alexei, I’m sorry—that’s not what I meant. It wasn’t her fault or yours. No one could blame you for what happened to Anna. She loved you, very deeply. But her choice to be with you, and her pride, tied you two together in an impossible future. Anna was a captive of her time, but so were you.”
Aurelia broke off, seeing Vronsky open his mouth as if to speak, but he stayed silent and she continued.
“Her limited choices affected you too, didn’t they? If she’d been free to get a divorce and stay in society, think what a difference that would have made for you and your life together. But fate—or Tolstoy—pitched you both into a battle you could never win, no matter what you did.”
Vronsky turned away and took in a deep breath.
Aurelia thought of her mother’s words all those years ago—the indelible mark of his loss—and could only guess at what he was feeling.
He nodded, once. Sensing that he needed time alone, she retreated to the top of the spiral staircase and looked back to see him stand and turn toward the window.
She couldn’t tell whether he was gazing at the square outside or at his own reflection, but either way, he was deep in thought.
Aurelia spent the rest of the evening downstairs, talking with the others.
Occasionally, she would look up to the mezzanine to see Vronsky standing and staring out the window or sitting on the window seat.
Even though she enjoyed her other conversations, her mind kept drifting back to him and Anna.
She worried that all she’d done was give him cold comfort, since he couldn’t change Anna’s death, not to mention the social barriers that had made them so unhappy.
When dawn arrived, Aurelia said her goodbyes to the characters as they disappeared back into their novels. Watching Vronsky disappear into Anna Karenina, she felt terrible knowing that he was slipping right back into the grief and heartache that awaited him at the end of his novel.