The thought of Polya, and her descriptions and admonitions about never venturing in the direction of the river, suddenly brought Anna to herself. Even as she was thinking how much she would like to walk these same paths in springtime or during a brilliant autumn sunset, she realized all at once the folly of her carelessness.
She shouldn’t be here! This place was only for the family, forbidden to servants!
Fear shot through Anna’s heart, and all at once the cold, of which she been completely unaware, seized her. She spun around to go, walking rapidly back the way she had come. The only image her brain could conjure up was the vision of turning past one of these hedges and running smack into Olga!
At the thought, she quickened her step. Immediately she remembered that Olga was gone, but this only brought a new kind of dread. What if she should meet Polya, and her new friend should discover how Anna had taken terrible advantage of her kindness? If she were discovered, Polya would be reprimanded severely. They could both lose their positions!
She broke into a run, trying to retrace her own footsteps back through the snow. But she was nowhere near the path on which she had come; instead, she ran farther and farther away from the white marble pillars at the main entrance.
Suddenly the quiet of the surroundings was broken by the scrambling feet of a small furry creature darting across the path in front of her, accompanied by an angry shout.
“Come back here, you little beast!” yelled a high-pitched voice, “or I’ll stew you for dinner tonight!”
Anna froze. So did the tiny dog, glancing up at the stranger.
Anna’s first instinct was to flee. The dog’s appearance did nothing to alleviate the conviction that the shout had been directed at her.
The next instant a human form sprang into sight from a gap through the hedge on the left. She leaped at the animal, but by now all that was left of the dog was the sight of its rapidly disappearing hind feet and tail. The pursuer sprawled face down in the snow at Anna’s feet.
Anna stood motionless.
“You’ll pay for this, you little rat!” cried the newcomer, a girl about Anna’s own age. She jumped to her feet, wiping splattered snow from her face and coat, and took off to give chase down the path. Then, almost as an afterthought, the presence of the stranger seemed to dawn on her. Just as quickly as she had jumped to her feet, she stopped and spun around.
“Who are you?” she demanded rather than asked, looking Anna over curiously.
“I’m—I’m—my name is Anna,” Anna stammered. She could barely force the words from her throat.
“Well, help me catch that mangy dog, though it can freeze to death for all I care! Go that way,” she pointed, “and I’ll go around to the left.”
Too terrified not to obey, Anna set off in the direction indicated. Around the corners of two hedges, she found the dog behind one of the benches, digging in the snow, untroubled either by cold or by the presence of a stranger. It was the most peculiar creature she had ever seen—no larger than a tomcat, and covered with long, tan hair that nearly obscured its tiny pug face. Around its neck the dog wore a collar studded with rich gems. Anna approached slowly. Seeing her, it paused in its activity, glancing up with a smug expression.
“Come, little puppy,” said Anna quietly, stooping down and holding out her hand.
The dog seemed no more concerned than when it had encountered this strange person on the path a moment earlier. It stared as Anna continued to speak gently, walking nearer and nearer. Anna got down to her knees, crawled forward, and gradually took the hairy little beast in her arms. It neither fought nor struggled as Anna spoke soothingly and tenderly petted its neck and back.
A moment later the other girl appeared.
“You’ve got her!” she exclaimed. “What a relief! I’d have been in a fix if she’d gotten away again!”
“Is she your dog?”
“Thank goodness, no! She was a gift to the princess from the Chinese legation that visited here a year ago. She’s her pride and joy. Personally, I think she’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen.”
The girl reached forward. Anna felt a low growl coming from the dog as she held it in her arms.
“Not to mention bad tempered!” she added, pulling back.
“But you take care of her?” asked Anna.
“Only when I’m so unlucky.”
“What else do you do here?” Anna had yet to meet any other servants her own age, and this girl seemed friendly. “I haven’t seen you before.”
“Do . . . what do I do?” the girl replied, squinting in an odd manner, a look of dawning awareness gradually spreading over her pretty face.
“Yes, what is your job on the estate?”
“Oh, I do lots of things,” she replied, smiling.
“Are you Princess Fedorcenko’s servant?”
“Isn’t everyone?”
“I mean do you serve her personally?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I do—I’m the princess’s personal slave.”
“Is it really so bad?” asked Anna, with something like alarm.
“No, I suppose not,” laughed the other.
“At least you are able to see the fine things in the main house,” Anna said wistfully. “It must be wonderful. Polya says I’ll probably never see it.”
“Polya?”
“She’s my mistress in the kitchen.”
“You mean old Olga Stephanovna’s kitchen?”
“I guess you are right. Polya says we are more Olga Stephanovna’s servants than the prince’s.”
“The Iron Mistress!” laughed the other, her emerald green eyes glistening playfully.
“You know her?”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
“Polya says the servants in the main house don’t mix with us in the kitchen.”
“I know everyone, and I go wherever I like.”
“You must feel very privileged being the princess’s servant. Is that why you are able to come to the garden?”
“I told you—what did you say your name—oh, yes, I remember . . . Anna!”
“What is yours?” asked Anna shyly.
“My name? Why, it’s . . . it’s Kat—that’s it. Just Kat.” She smiled broadly. “And I told you, Anna, I go wherever I like—anywhere in the gardens, or on the whole grounds. But you must be new.”
“Yes, I am,” replied Anna. “I’m from the country. I only came a few weeks ago.”
“So why are you here—in the garden, I mean?” asked the girl called Kat.
Anna turned red. “I was out for a walk and came in by accident. I didn’t realize where I was going. I was trying to find my way out when you and the dog found me.”
“How did you get by the Iron Mistress?”
“She has gone to her sister’s funeral.”
“And so you do not have to work?”
“Polya gave me the day to rest—oh, you won’t tell, will you? Olga would be sure to treat her terribly if she finds out! It was my fault, not Polya’s!”
“Have no fear,” giggled Kat. “I will say nothing to Olga.”
“I will be more careful from now on,” Anna said. “This is the first time I have broken one of the rules, and I will not do it again.”
“Never break another rule? How terribly dull that would be. I break rules all the time!”
“And they do nothing?” Anna’s astonishment was evident on her face.
“I am one of the privileged servants, you see.”
“It must be very different for you in the main house. Did you ever work in the kitchen?”
“No,” laughed Kat. “But the thought reminds me of food. Give me the dog. I think I’ll go inside and have a cup of chocolate.”
“And you won’t say anything about what Polya did?” said Anna, handing her the animal.
“No, but hmmm . . . I wonder what is the punishment for being in the garden without permission? Boiling in oil, no doubt, or a severe whipping with the knout. I’ll let you know wh
en I find out, Anna, and we can both take our discipline together.”
Kat’s words were none too pleasant, even though by her tone Anna knew she was making fun of her fear.
“Will you show me the way out?” said Anna.
“It’s easy,” answered Kat. “Go right through there.” She pointed toward a path that wound under an archway cut through a ten-foot-high hedge. “After you pass the arch, the path forks. Take the one to the left. You will pass a small arbor of miniature birch and maple trees. If you look up from there you will see the marble columns.”
“Thank you,” said Anna, walking in the direction of the arch. “But aren’t you coming?”
“I think I shall go another way.”
Not understanding, but not wanting to remain another minute in the forbidden garden, Anna ran off. She paused at the hedge-arch, looked back, and saw Kat still watching her.
“Bye!” called Anna, then ran on to the fork and out of sight of her new friend. In another minute or two she passed through the columns. She slowed, then walked back to the house breathing deep sighs of relief. For the first time since leaving her room, she suddenly became aware of the book still clutched tightly in her gloved hand.
Perhaps it would be better for me to read on the bed in my room, she thought to herself.
16
While Anna made her way back to the house, the girl she had just met as “Kat” traipsed idly back through the Promenade Garden. She would get back to the house too, though she was in no hurry about it—except to be rid of the dog.
She hardly gave a second thought to her careless words to the timid scullery maid. She didn’t care a whit that a servant had trespassed into the private garden. She had only been teasing the girl. Her family never used the cruel whip called the knout. Besides, it had been banned in Russia for ten years. She had no idea that Olga resorted to beatings occasionally. She possessed not the slightest notion of what it might be like to live in fear of such reprisals. Anna’s fears seemed to her absurd, and thus, as she had made light of them in their conversation, she now put them out of her head entirely.
Her name was not Kat, but Katrina. Katrina Viktorovna Fedorcenko—daughter of the prince. She was not exactly her mother’s slave, but she often considered herself no better off than the house servants.
She had not intentionally set out to deceive the poor kitchen lass. If Anna had known who had caught her in the garden, she would have probably died on the spot from fright. She was such a timorous little thing! Katrina had done her a favor by keeping her own identity secret—and had a little fun with her at the same time!
Katrina was not naturally a spiteful girl. But having always had her own way in life, she possessed a self-centered attitude and a strong stubborn will to match. In recent months this part of her nature, along with a dose of natural guile, had been growing more pronounced as she struggled with the complexities of maturation. She had developed the misconception that to be considered grown-up by others, she must carry herself in a self-assured, audacious, and even brassy manner; thus she came across as arrogant and haughty. Her existence, although she was learning to despise it, revolved around a single center—herself.
But if something in her comfortable world was not right, she usually had little difficulty in making it right—at least temporarily. She could never quite succeed in removing the underlying sense of discontent with the order of things as she found them. But she was highly adept at getting rid of superficial obstructions to her happiness, for she seldom encountered any real resistance to her desires. She had discovered ways to sweet-talk and cajole her defenseless mother into granting nearly any but the most outlandish of her requests.
In one area, however, the wealthy princess had found herself stymied. She could not get the inane servants to stop treating her like a complete infant! Her governess cooed and oogled over her, calling her “my precious pet” and “my little bushka.” She still insisted on cutting Katrina’s meat up in tiny pieces, and all the other servants followed her lead.
A few years ago it had become annoying. She mentioned it to her mother after she turned twelve. Her mother promised to speak to the servants. Nothing changed. Thirteen came, then fourteen, and still everyone spoke to her as if she were five! Now Katrina was well into her fifteenth year, and the simpletons took no notice! A gaggle of silly, dimwitted geese, that’s what they were!
Katrina knew the underlying reason, of course—her mother! She was the worst of all, expecting her daughter to wear childish frills and ruffles and idiotic bonnets that would turn the stomach of a ten-year-old!
If the truth were known—and occasionally Katrina took a look at the truth of the matter—she had been part of the problem. As much as one part of her hated being doted on, another part of her fed on her governess’s and her mother’s infantile attentions.
Yet the conflicting forces within that spoke of blossoming womanhood were growing gradually stronger and more determined to assert themselves. At twelve she had reacted to the changes by bellowing and screaming at the servants not to treat her like a baby. But they were used to her tantrums; besides, they took their instructions from Katrina’s mother. By the time she was fourteen the tantrums had quieted, but the servants had not changed their ways. And lately Katrina was realizing that it was time to bring a little cunning to her aid. If womanhood had not yet quite fully arrived, the innocent purity of infancy had been left behind. She was a sly one, whose self-will was fully developed. Perhaps it was time to try her new plan.
The next day, therefore, Katrina knocked softly on her mother’s boudoir door. Her mother’s maid opened the door.
“May I see my mother, Nina?” she asked sweetly.
“I will inquire, my lady.” The servant curtsied and turned back into the room.
In another moment a high, lilting, sickly sweet voice called from within. “Oh, come in . . . come in, my dear! How nice it is to have a visit from my precious daughter!”
When Katrina entered the room, she was immediately assaulted by the stale pungent fragrance of expensive rose water, her mother’s favorite scent, along with extract of lilac. Katrina hated them both. The perfume provided a fitting introduction to the pink, rose, and lavender room, its walls accented by lace and velvet and satin curtains, shades, and coverlets all in varying hues of those same pastel tones. The whole effect gave the most apropos introduction to the Princess Natalia Vasilyovna Fedorcenko.
Katrina’s mother appeared the very essence of everything feminine, refined, and genteel in the capital city of Alexander II’s Russia. She also epitomized the image of the pampered, empty-headed lady of the nobility. Her most profound thought on any given day was the conception of a new method for the servants to fold the napkins for a dinner party. She would never dream of folding the napkins herself, of course. Some said she had never even seen the inside of her own kitchens. The chief focus of her life was refining her own beauty and the beauty of her surroundings, and buying things to that end. And, of course, making her husband and children happy.
It was the only life she had ever known. She was not capable of seeking more out of her existence, or even of wondering if there might be more to be sought. Natalia Vasilyovna was genuinely helpless enough that no one—her family least of all—resented her immature self-absorption. They tended, in fact, to protect her from life’s unpleasant realities whenever possible.
She was a child at heart. Perhaps that was why she persisted in treating her daughter like one.
“Good morning, Mother dear,” said Katrina, kissing the soft, creamy cheek of the princess. Nina cast her a skeptical glance, wondering what Katrina wanted.
“What a wonderful surprise, my darling!” said the princess. “I am sorry I was not down for breakfast, but I had the most frightful headache.” She lounged before the mirror of her vanity table in a pink satin dressing gown.
“I do hope you’re feeling better, Mother.”
“Oh, yes, dear—much. I’ve already had a little nap.”
She gave a long sigh. “But I am afraid it will come back—I’m having a dreadful time deciding between the pearls or the emerald for Count Griskov’s party tonight.”
She held up two necklaces side by side—a string of rich pearls, and a golden chain holding an emerald the size of a walnut, encircled by several diamonds no less than a carat apiece. “What do you think?”
“But I don’t know what you will be wearing.”
“Oh, how silly of me! Nina, be a dear and show Katrina the dress.”
Nina walked to the changing screen, lifted off the dress, and held it toward Katrina—a gown of shimmering yellow, flounced in fine ecru lace.
“The emerald, definitely, Mother,” said Katrina. “You would need something much darker to show off the pearls properly; they would simply get lost with that dress.”
“Of course! I should have known that.”
“Besides, the green of the emerald will be stunning on top of the yellow.”
“Katrina, you are so clever!”
“I learned all I know from you, Mother.”
All three women in the room knew better. Katrina surpassed her mother not only in intelligence but also in savvy.
Perhaps Natalia persisted in treating her daughter as a child to postpone the inevitable end of this charade, and the ultimate revelation of reality. For now, however, both mother and daughter were content with the game, and Katrina felt good when she heard her mother reply with a pleased giggle.
“And, Katrina,” the princess went on, “I never did thank you for watching little Ming Li yesterday. I do hate to leave the darling thing so long during the day. It is not so bad at night, because she sleeps most of the time.”
She turned toward the fluffy brown Pekinese perched atop a satin pillow on the settee. “You had a good time, didn’t you, my precious baby?”
The Russians Collection Page 11
