Falling Stars

by Anita Mills

  The thick clouds had blackened, giving the sky the look of evening rather than midday. And as if by the man’s direction, the wind blew harder, carrying with it a hail of frozen rain. As the first hard drops hit her face, Katherine needed no further urging. Above her, the aged sails flapped wildly, nearly drowning out the shouts of those who tried to lash them against the weathered spars. The masts, buffeted by a strong blast, groaned beneath the weight of the rigging.

  The Russian sailor caught her arm, pulling her toward the shelter of the stairs. As they reached them, the door banged shut under the force of the now howling wind. The sleet came down in sheets, blinding her, stinging her face, as the gale forced her against the door. The sailor struggled to pull it open, then pushed her inside.

  The door hit her, sending her reeling down the darkened steps into the narrow passage. The wooden floor beneath her feet creaked and yawed, rolling her first against one wall, then the other. She reeled like a sot and tried to hold on, while the ship rose and fell as it strained to ride the rising waves of the storm. She slipped, falling against a cabin door, and it gave, sending her sprawling inside. A lantern swung crazily from the wall, then went out, leaving the room in utter blackness, and Katherine heard Bellamy Townsend curse.

  Struggling to regain her footing, she clung to the wall as the floor rocked beneath her. Then she felt arms about her, pulling her away, and, as the ship listed suddenly, Townsend sprawled over her. He caught the door hinge and held on, his weight pinning her beneath him. She flailed wildly, trying to right herself.

  “Lie still—or you will hurt yourself! You cannot walk!”

  Her stomach dropped with a wave, then rose, seemingly toward her mouth. “I’m going to be sick!” she shouted.

  “Not now! For God’s sake, not now!” Nonetheless, he stumbled to his feet and lurched for the basin, which had slid beneath a table.

  He was too late. She barely had time to sit before the wave of nausea hit her. She tried to swallow as her whole body went wet from the sickness, but it was no use. The pitifully few bits of bread and cheese she’d managed to eat earlier spilled onto the floor.

  “Oh, God,” he muttered, thrusting the bowl beneath her face. He sank to sit beside her and braced her heaving shoulders. “Come on, Kate, you are all right—you are all right.”

  Finally, there was nothing more, and she stopped. She sat there, gulping for air, feeling utterly mortified. Suddenly, the ship pitched wildly again, then there was a loud noise, and it felt as though the whole vessel meant to roll onto its side. Terrified, Katherine threw all modesty to the wind and clung to him.

  “We’re going to die!” she cried. “We’re going to sink!”

  “Don’t be silly!” he yelled, his voice scarcely recognizable. Even in the darkness, she could see her terror reflected in his eyes. One of his hands held the door frame, and his other arm was wrapped tightly around her.

  She began to pray, unable to hear her own words as she repeated them over and over. Above, a cabinet door flew open, spilling clothes and books onto the floor. He buried his head in her shoulder and held on, wincing as a sconce chimney shattered over him.

  “Are we aground? Are we taking water?” she cried.

  “How the hell would I know?” he shouted at her. “I don’t think so,” he added, without much conviction. But the ship rose again to ride a wave, and he exhaled his relief. “We’re all right, Kate. It’s just a devilish bad storm.”

  She could hear the rigging creak and groan in the wind, but she shared a sense of survival. Looking down, she saw the mess on the floor and basin. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, embarrassed.

  “It is all right—I’ve been weasel-bit a few times. Once I even woke up lying in the stuff.” He dropped his arm from her shoulder. “Are you all right?”

  “I think so.”

  They sat, listening to the howling wind, feeling the rise and fall of each heavy swell. Loose papers spread across the cabin floor, then collected before sliding again. Two small benches and the table were overturned, and everything not secured was scattered.

  Katherine shuddered. “I am never sailing anywhere again,” she declared with conviction.

  “Ekaterina! Ekaterina! Gdye tebya?” Galena’s frantic voice carried over the wind. Ekaterina!”

  “Oh, lud,” Katherine groaned. “What will she think?”

  “If she sees the basin, she’ll acquit me,” Bell answered.

  There was a loud thumping in the narrow passage outside, then the Russian woman staggered in, lantern held high. “Oh, Ekaterina, merciful God, but you are safe! When you did not come down—and that Maria!” She spat out the maid’s name with disgust. “Well, she was useless! She would not look for you.”

  “I am all right.”

  “The storm—it is terrible!” Galena nearly lost her balance and had to grab for a wall. “And the ice—it is everywhere! I was afraid when you did not come down that you had gone overboard.”

  “You went up? Galena!”

  “For you and the babe, I do anything. But I am assured the damage is not significant. Someone said we scraped something,” she added breathlessly. “Cher Bellamy, help me, will you?”

  Townsend managed to get the lantern and hang it on a hook as the Russian woman staggered. Sinking to the floor, she held onto Katherine. The hem of her skirt narrowly missed the basin. “Oh, ma pauvre enfant,” she murmured. “You have the sickness again?”

  “This time, I think I was seasick.”

  “I do not doubt it, but the worst, it is over. Still, I am told the sea will not calm for hours. I think, Ekaterina, we should have you lie down in our cabin.”

  “Yes, of course.” With an effort, Katherine stood on shaking limbs and held onto her sister-in-law for balance. Turning back to Bell, she managed low, “I thank you for your prompt assistance.”

  Murmuring soothing words in Russian, Galena propelled Katherine to the cabin they shared. In one corner of the room, the maid still huddled.

  “Get up.”

  The Russian girl shook uncontrollably. “Pazhal-oosta—ya—”

  “dupeya dyevooshka!” Galena snapped impatiently. “It is over, I tell you! You will help me get Ekaterina Ivanova to bed—now!”

  “I can manage,” Katherine protested. “Besides, I don’t-”

  “Nyet. We do not care for ourselves in Russia.” Gesturing toward the maid again, Galena ordered imperiously, “Tyepyer!”

  “Da, gaspazha. “The girl rose slowly, her eyes round in her colorless face.

  “Leave her be. She is still frightened.”

  “Nyet. Maria—”

  “Da.”

  Satisfied, Galena turned her attention to Katherine. “We must take care of our little mother, ma petite. The future of Domnya is in you.”

  Without removing her gown or her shoes, Kate dropped to her bed, where she clung to the mattress as the floor beneath them went up and down, up and down. Closing her eyes, she tried not to think of the movement. Never again, not under any circumstances, was she going to sea.

  Galena sat at her feet. “I hope you are not still frightened, Ekaterina. It would not be good for the babe.”

  “No.”

  “That Captain Ryshuskin said he would inform us,” the woman recalled irritably, “and we do not hear from him. Maria! I will send her up to ask that he attend me.”

  “I should rather have him on the bridge.”

  “Pah. He does not ignore Galena Petrovna, I tell you. Lexy will have his head for it.”

  “Lena, I think I am going to be sick again.”

  “Ah, Ekaterina.” Galena rose and leaned over to smooth Kate’s hair. “What are we going to do? If you cannot keep your food down, the babe will be poor—and Lexy will say I have brought him home a little twig. Try to keep it down—for Lena, you must try.”

  “I am,” Kate whispered. Then, “I cannot.”

  “Maria!” Galena barked. “Syaychass!”

  “Da, dahma.” The girl came back to fet
ch the bowl, sitting it on the floor beside the bed.

  Leaning over the side, Katherine retched, bringing up naught but bile as Alexei’s sister watched. Finally, she lay back, utterly exhausted.

  “Everything will be better when we are at Domnya, Ekaterina,” Galena promised her.

  Kate closed her eyes again. No, everything would be better when she saw Alexei. Everything would be better when she had him to hold her. To tell her he was glad about the child.

  Not even the ground at Helsinki had looked as welcoming as the docks of St. Petersburg. Katherine saw them in the distance, and for the first time since she’d left England, her heart actually leapt. Her hands tightly clinging to the ship’s rail, she stared at the tiny figures that dotted the piers, trying to see Alexei.

  Beside her, Galena said, “It is beautiful—n ‘est-ce pas?” Drawing in a deep breath, she savored it. “It is Russia,” she announced proudly.

  Russia. Until now it had been but a place in Katherine’s imagination. Now it would be her home. But it looked so different from what she had expected. Onion-shaped domes and gold-tipped spires dotted the skyline, giving it a decidedly foreign appearance. And as the ship closed with the land, she could see that the city encompassed several islands.

  Galena followed her gaze and nodded as though she knew the younger woman’s thoughts. “Da. You can see the Cathedral of St. Peter and Paul—the one with the straight golden spire—on Zayachy Island. It is the tallest building in all of St. Petersburg, and Peter the Great is buried there. Beneath it, although you cannot yet see it, lies the Peter and Paul Fortress. It was to have been used to defend us against the Swedes, but now it is a very bad prison.”

  “Like Newgate,” Katherine murmured.

  “Not like Newgate at all,” Galena insisted firmly. “It is the worst place the czar’s enemies can go—worse even than Siberia. If they come out at all, they are usually made insane by the experience.” She shrugged. “But none of the Volskys have ever gone there, I thank God.” She caught Katherine’s arm, directing her attention elsewhere. “You think you see the sea, but now it is the Neva River, and we will debark there—on the south island.”

  The younger woman nodded. “It is much like the Severn—so wide where it comes into the sea.”

  It seemed as though the ship slowed to a snail’s crawl, making minutes feel like hours as Katherine scanned a group of waving men eagerly. And she thought she saw Alexei.

  “Look—there he is!”

  “Who?”

  “Lexy!” Katherine began waving her handkerchief at him.

  But Galena caught her hand, pulling it down. “It is unseemly, Ekaterina,” she said sternly. “And that is most definitely not Lexy. He does not come to the docks like a common person.” Releasing Katherine, she added more kindly, “He will await us at the Winter Palace, where we shall be guests of the czar until we leave for Domnya.”

  “But—”

  “A state carriage will be sent for us, Ekaterina, and soon you will see him. It is an honor to be at the Winter Palace.”

  “Oh.” It was difficult to hide her disappointment in the face of Galena’s pride. “I thought—that is, I expected he would wish to meet us,” Katherine managed lamely.

  “And he does. Come—not a long face, ma petite. You are the Countess Volsky, and there will be much curiosity. You must not betray his confidence in you.” When Katherine said nothing, Galena patted her hand. “But do not despair, for I will guide you. There are many intrigues in Russia, Ekaterina.”

  Bellamy Townsend joined them. “St. Petersburg,” he said softly as he leaned on the rail. “Impressive.”

  “But of course.”

  “Are you coming to the Winter Palace also?” Katherine asked him.

  “Alas, no.” His mouth quirked downward, twisting his smile wryly. “I’m afraid I am unworthy of such exalted company, Lady Volsky. But I have been invited to view the city’s defenses with Marshal Sherkov, as he has been kind enough to offer me his hospitality.

  Galena frowned. “You will be most careful, Bellamy. Gregori Mikhailovich is—” She hesitated for emphasis, then declared, “—a most dangerous enemy. If he should even suspect that you—well, you would not leave Russia alive, my friend.”

  “Madame Malenkov, you regard a newly prudent man,” he assured her. “You are better advised to address your warning to Madame Sherkov.”

  “And so I shall. But you must come to Domnya also, I think, and perhaps he will not wonder quite so much.”

  “I should be honored.”

  Knowing full well that Alexei would not be pleased, Katherine demurred, “Galena, I don’t think—”

  “Nonsense. But of course he must come to visit us. Listen, ma petite—there will come a time when you will long for an English voice at Domnya.”

  “Alexei—”

  “Alexei Petrovich will not mind if I invite your countryman, Ekaterina.”

  Katherine knew better, but she held her tongue. Alexei could guard his sister himself now.

  Never in all of her life had she seen such a carriage. The dark red lacquer glistened as though it were wet, and the gold trim shone in the afternoon sun. On the doors, ornate crests had been carved and gilded in relief. And in front, a team of four white horses, their tails braided with gold, stamped restlessly beneath ornate harnesses. Two coachmen, both in dark red trimmed with gold braid, stood at attention on either side, while a third offered Galena a white-gloved hand.

  Alexei’s sister mounted the carriage step without so much as a glance or word to the man who helped her. Katherine forced a smile and mumbled her thanks to him as she was thrust into the coach. Galena looked displeased.

  “Dastachna—enough. You are Countess Volsky, and therefore you must not be free with your kindnesses.”

  “He was good enough to give me his hand,” Katherine retorted, stung by the cold, clipped tone in her sister-in-law’s voice. She turned to the window. “Where is Maria?”

  “She will ride in the cart.”

  Silence descended between them as the carriage began to roll, then picked up speed, weaving through crowded streets. Katherine leaned forward to look at the strange, majestic palaces and public buildings. Peter the Great’s city. Forgetting her pique with Galena, she took it all in, marveling at the visual feast of it.

  “That is the Winter Palace.”

  Katherine stared at a seeming wall of windows that did not appear to end. “Where?”

  “We are passing it—it goes on nearly forever, you will think, for there are more than a thousand rooms. It is said to be an English mile in length.”

  “This?”

  “Yes. The Empress Elisaveta built it for herself more than one hundred and fifty years ago, cherie. But the inside was redone by the Empress Ekaterina in the fabulous style. I do not think there is anything to compare in England.”

  “If there is, I have not seen it,” the younger woman admitted.

  “It shames Versailles,” Galena declared.

  Finally, the carriage slowed, then halted before the immense building. As Katherine watched, the coachmen approached an Imperial guardsman, apparently explaining that she and Galena were to be guests. Most of the words she could not understand, but she heard “Malenkova” and “Volskaya” quite clearly. Papers were presented, examined, and returned. Then the carriage door was opened, and the coachman mumbled something apologetically.

  “Doorak!” Galena told him furiously. “Ideeot! What is the delay?”

  “Neechevo, dahma.”

  Galena threw up her hands in disgust. “I am served by imbeciles, Ekaterina—imbeciles!” She turned to look at the palace, discovering his error. “We are at the wrong entrance!”

  The fellow paled and stammered something, but Alexei’s sister was not mollified.

  “We will enter here, and a chair will be sent for us,” she said sourly. “And Alexei Petrovich will punish this fool.”

  After another discussion with the guards, two pole chairs were b
rought out, and Katherine and Galena handed into them. It almost reminded Kate of Bath, but the surroundings were far more sumptuous. As the chairs bobbed on the shoulders of the bearers, they were carried through splendors beyond Katherine’s imagination—long, arched marble corridors, ornately vaulted and gilded rooms, exquisite portrait galleries—all of it overwhelming, sating to the eyes.

  Beside them, the hard heels of the guards clicked loudly, resonating, echoing through seemingly cavernous halls. Finally, they stopped, and a liveried servant hastened to open heavy, carved doors. A group of military officers turned at the sound, and Kate saw Alexei. He excused himself from his companions and made his way across the exquisitely tiled floor to her, stopping first to say something to Galena, followed by sharp words that sent the servant scurrying from the room. Swallowing her disappointment, Katherine waited as Galena was helped from her chair. Alexei kissed his sister’s cheeks.

  Then he turned to Katherine and barked something to her bearers. She was set down hurriedly, and the side door opened. As she leaned out, her husband’s strong hands caught her elbows, and for a moment, she thought he meant to embrace her. But he merely steadied her as she stepped from the chair, then he stepped back.

  “Galena tells me you have been ill” were his first words to her. “You must take care of yourself now.”

  “It will pass,” she promised him.

  “I hope so. How can you bear a babe when you are so thin?”

  It seemed as though she faced a stranger. She wiped suddenly damp palms against the wrinkled skirt of her traveling dress and waited, ill at ease, as his gaze moved over her. Finally, he offered her his arm, and when she took it, he started back to the group he’d left.

  “Maya zhena,” he announced. “Ekaterina Ivanova.”

  There were a few curious stares, followed by nods, then he presented each of them to her. As he named them, each one clicked his heels together and bowed over her hand.

  “Petr Andreivich, Count Steremsky. Feodor Gregorivich, Prince Danshekin. Stephan Zacharavich, Count Bashtir. Yuri Aseikov. Igor Dmetreievich, Prince Pahlin.”