by Anita Mills
To each, she smiled and did as Galena had schooled her, saying, “Raht pazna-komitsa” politely. They exchanged amused glances, then Prince Pahlin told her, “We are pleased to meet Ekaterina Ivanova also,” in English. His gaze moved to Alexei’s sister, who stood behind her. “You enjoyed a pleasant voyage, Galena Petrovna?”
“Nyet. It was terrible.”
“A pity.”
“We were nearly shipwrecked. And Ekaterina Ivanova is not a sailor.”
As she stood there, the conversation became a mix of English and Russian, but it did not seem to matter. To Katherine, it was obvious that there was little difference between polite inanities in England and Russia. Finally, to her relief, Alexei took her arm again, and they moved on.
“You will need to make yourself presentable, Ekaterina,” he murmured. “You will go with Galena.” He nodded to one of the servants who hovered nearby. “He will show you the way.”
It was scarcely a lovers’ reunion. She managed to swallow her disappointment again. “When will I see you?” she asked.
“I will be up to dress for dinner.” He patted her arm as though she were a child. “Go on with Lena, ma petite.”
As they walked behind the uniformed footman, Galena caught Katherine’s hand and held it, saying soothingly, “I know, daragaya, but when we are at Domnya, he will not be so formal, I promise you. He will make you a good husband.” When Katherine said nothing, the Russian woman squeezed her fingers. “Here he is too busy to attend us, so while he conducts his business, you and I will shop. There is so much to buy, Ekaterina.”
“I have trunks of clothes.”
“The clothes, yes, but you have not the furs, and those you will need. Bab’e leto is over, and now we face the winter. Winter at Domnya is cold, very cold,” she said definitely. You will need fur hats, fur cloaks, fur muffs—everything—or you will not go outside.” She stopped walking for a moment. “Ah, daragaya, I know you are lonely for Lexy, but when he is not with us, we shall spend his money—all right?”
“I do not feel like shopping, Lena.”
“Ekaterina … Ekaterina … When you are at Domnya, we will have him all to ourselves,” Galena promised. “Come—you must smile,” she coaxed. “A man does not like the long face.” With her free hand, she reached to pinch Katherine’s cheeks together to force the smile. “This is what a man would have, Ekaterina—always. And if he does not get it, he will look elsewhere.”
“You think me foolish, don’t you?”
“Mais non, ma petite. I think you love Lexy—and I will help you keep him. We are allies, Ekaterina—allies. I will tell you how to go on, I promise you.”
“If he should turn from me, I could not bear it!” Tears welled in Katherine’s eyes. “And—and he does not even seem pleased to see me!”
“Hush, little one.” Galena’s arms closed around Katherine, holding her. “He is most pleased—I know it. You are merely too tired, that is all. Come—you will lie down before we dress for dinner. And tomorrow we shop.”
She awakened to the sound of angry voices, Galena’s accusing, Alexei’s defensive. And then they faded to a low murmur. Katherine lay there, trying to hear, but everything was said in Russian. Finally, she sat up and reached for her wrapper.
The door opened suddenly, startling her, and he stepped inside. “I did not want to waken you,” he said apologetically, approaching the bed. Dropping to his knees beside her, he reached for her hands. “Ah, Ekaterina,” he said softly, “what a boor you must think me.” His head bent to press his lips in first one of her palms, then the other. “You behold a contrite husband, daragaya.”
As she looked down on his thick black hair, she could not resist touching it. Her fingers ruffled it as his head rested on her lap, and longing washed over her. “She should not have told you,” she managed, her throat nearly too constricted for speech. “I would have gotten over it.”
“No. You do not deserve the stranger, Ekaterina,” he whispered, his breath warm through the silk that covered her legs. “How do you feel? Does the babe overset you?”
“I am fine now that you are here.”
“Good.” He rose and began undressing.
In the dim light of an oil lamp, she watched him, trying not to betray her eagerness to be held by him. To her it seemed he moved slowly, deliberately drawing out the exquisite hunger. Then before he removed his pantaloons, he shrugged into his nightshirt, pulling it down over his body, disappointing her. Then she realized he was trying to avoid any awkwardness between them. She laid her wrapper aside and waited.
He blew out the lamp, and as the wick smoked, he came to bed. Lying down beside her, he smoothed her hair. “The babe pleases me, you know.”
“I know.” She snuggled against him. “Oh, how I have missed you, Lexy,” she whispered.
“And I you.”
When he still made no move to hold her, she reached to touch his cheek, to trace the fine profile of his jaw. With a boldness she did not feel, she dared to press her lips against his throat. He was very still.
“You do not have to worry that you will hurt our child, Lexy.” Even as she said the words, she felt like the veriest hussy. “I love you so much.”
He rolled onto his back. “It would not be good tonight.”
Humiliated, she felt the blood heat her face. “But why—?”
“Galena—she is in the next room.”
“She will hear nothing.”
She knew then he did not mean to take her, that he did not want her—after three and one-half months of separation, he did not want to hold her like that. And she wanted to cry. She rolled onto her side, drawing her knees against her, acutely aware of the dampness between her thighs and the ache inside her.
Finally, she could stand it no longer. “Do you love me, Lexy?” she choked out.
“Ekaterina, you are my wife, the mother of my child. How could you doubt such a thing?”
“You have not held me! You have not kissed me!”
“I did when I came in.”
“My hands!”
“Shhhhh. Galena will hear you,” he cautioned her.
“I don’t care! Everything is Galena, isn’t it? What about me, Lexy? I have come all the way from England to live with you!”
“Ekaterina, please.” He reached to turn her back to him. “What is it you want from me?”
She stared hard at him, trying to read his eyes in the dark. She wanted to cry out that all she wanted was for him to love her, to act as though he were glad to see her, as though he cared. But she could not say it.
“I want,” she whispered finally, “the man who married me.”
“Ekaterina, I am tired.”
Tears trickled down her cheeks and her throat ached too much for speech. He thought her childish, demanding, she supposed.
His hand touched her face lightly, then drew back. “You are crying daragaya.’”
She couldn’t answer.
He sighed. “Little one, Lena will kill me if anything should happen to this babe—or to you.” When she still said nothing, his hand slid over her hip to her thigh.
She felt her nightgown easing upward, and she sucked in her breath, holding it, waiting, until his fingers touched her there. An almost anguished sob escaped, then was stifled with his mouth. “What Galena does not know will hurt nothing, Ekaterina,” he murmured against her lips. “But you must be quiet.”
As though he feared discovery, he was quick to roll over her, and then he entered her, thrusting rapidly, and it was as though he held his breath until he was done. When he left her, she felt somehow unclean, as though they’d done something wrong and furtive.
And with that came the shame. There must be something wrong with her, she must be some sort of hussy to want more of him than that. But after three months’ absence, she’d wanted him to hold her, to love her.
“Is something the matter, Ekaterina?” he asked finally.
“I don’t know.”
“You ar
e tired. Perhaps you should go to sleep.”
The Russian court had proven to be a den of licentiousness, with Galena forever pointing out who was committing adultery with whom. More than once Katherine had caught admiring, flirtatious glances cast at Lexy, and she had to admit to herself that she was jealous. But always Galena insisted that he would have nothing to do with any of them. Still, Katherine was glad enough to leave St. Petersburg for Moscow.
To pass the long days within the confines of the carriage, Galena began schooling her for her interview with the metropolitan. She must be certain to dispute the ascendancy of the pope in Rome while not dwelling on the Archbishop of Canterbury or the king’s position at the head of the Church of England. Doctrinal similarities rather than differences must be stressed. And above all, she must indicate her willingness to attend the Orthodox church.
“It does not matter at all what you are to us, Ekaterina,” Galena insisted over and over, “but for your children’s legitimacy, you must say you accept our czar’s religion. Though,” she added, “it is not always certain that Alexander himself is as Orthodox as the church would have him. He has discovered spiritualism and Bible study, you see.”
“The Church will ask you to take a Russian name, that is all, Ekaterina,” Alexei reassured her. “He will not examine you too closely. Now if you were wed to the czar—”
“Bah. I suspect the Empress Elisaveta cares not a fig for Orthodoxy, Lexy,” Galena retorted.
“But she was confirmed, and he was crowned at the Uspenskii Cathedral,” he reminded his sister.
“Da. But that was paleetika. Besides, where is she now? Where is she while Alexander gets bastards of Maria Czetwertskyna?”
“Galena-”
“It is common knowledge,” she declared, unchastened by his tone. “Now—where was I? The icons, I think.”
At that moment, there were shouts from the roadside, and when Katherine looked out the window, she saw the street of a small village lined with ragged people. One woman held a half-naked child against her breast, using her arms to shield it from the cold. The man beside her stretched out his hands in supplication.
“Beggars!” Galena fairly spat out the word. “If they get in front of the carriage, Lexy, you must tell Nemsky he is not to stop.”
“Lena, they look as though they are starving!” Katherine protested. “Surely we—”
“Pah. The serfs, they are always starving,” Alexei’s sister retorted. “Besides, it is not our responsibility. I think they must belong to Beschertnik.”
But Katherine already had dug into her reticule and withdrawn her small purse. Galena covered her hand to stop her. “Ekaterina, you must not.”
Turning to Alexei in disbelief, Katherine appealed to him. “But we have so much—and they have not enough clothing for a child. Please, Lexy—I’d give something.”
“And they will beg again and again,” Galena insisted. “Besides, it would be an insult to Beschertnik. Tell her, Lexy—you must tell her.”
He appeared to be studying his hands for a moment, then he turned his palms up helplessly. “I am sorry, Ekaterina, but we cannot interfere.”
“Interfere! Lexy, it does not look as though they have food!”
“I am sorry,” he repeated.
“You can say I did not know it was an insult,” she argued. “You can blame it on my English blood, Lexy, but I’d still give them something.”
Instead, he thumped the roof of the passenger compartment and shouted, “Pashlee!” The carriage, which had slowed, picked up speed.
“Lexy!”
“Oospakoytiss!” Galena snapped. “You must calm yourself,” she repeated in English. “It does not matter.”
“Does not matter!”
Without looking at her, Alexei muttered, “They are serfs.”
“They are your countrymen!”
“Ekaterina!” Galena said sharply. “It is done.”
“But—”
“Done. There is nothing we could do if Alexei wished it. They are someone else’s problem, and I for one do not mean to anger their master.”
Finally, Alexei sighed. “Please, Ekaterina, you must not worry over a few hungry serfs.”
“In England-”
Alexei straightened in his seat. “You are not in England,” he told her coldly. “You must not concern yourself with what you do not understand.”
She was helpless, and she knew it. Even if she tried, she could not make herself understood to Alexei’s driver. And clearly both her husband and his sister were vexed with her. But she had to try one last time. This time, when she touched his sleeve, she did so gently.
“Please, Lexy—I cannot let anyone—not even a dog—go hungry in this weather. Those people are cold and hungry.”
His jaw worked visibly, then hardened. “It is not your place to do anything for them. We are late enough as it is.”
“If you must concern yourself, Ekaterina, perhaps you will wish to pray for them,” Galena suggested smoothly. “Or when we reach Moscow, you may leave a donation in one of the churches.”
“What good will that do?” Katherine asked bitterly.
“It is all we can do. If we stop, there will be a mob, and you would not wish that,” the older woman offered reasonably. “It is not safe to stop on a road when we are not escorted by guards. We could be robbed.”
Katherine stared out the other window, utterly unconvinced. Finally, as his anger with her ebbed, Alexei exhaled heavily. “Ekaterina,” he said more gently, “you will have to realize that we are not like the English. When you are here longer, you will understand.”
“Never.”
An uncomfortable silence descended, leaving each to his own thoughts. It was a long time before anyone spoke, and then it was Galena.
“We cannot reach Babino by nightfall, Lexy. It will have to be L’uban, don’t you think?”
“We will stop at the river, Lena. At least I know of a place that has clean beds.”
“Ya galadna. “ She sighed. “You wish to eat also, no?” she said to Katherine.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Well, perhaps when we are arrived.”
“Anger fills her stomach,” Alexei muttered. “Leave her alone.” His eyes moved from Katherine’s stiff back to Galena’s face. “You cannot stand silence, can you?”
“No. And I dislike unpleasantness. Come, Ekaterina—we shall speak of the clothes to be had in Moscow, and poor Lexy will be punished by the loss of his money to the shopkeepers.”
“Lena, you beggar me to spoil her.”
“Lexy, her condition makes her have the sensibilities,” Galena protested. “You forget what she is to Domnya.”
“I do not forget she is my wife.”
“I could not possibly wear anything more,” Katherine said tiredly. “If you cannot find it in your heart to feed the poor, you may keep your money.”
“Well, it has always been a long journey to Moscow—and I expect this one will seem even longer,” Galena said philosophically. “Let us hope we shall arrive in charity with each other.”
Once again a determined silence descended, and this time it did not break until the carriage halted before a village inn. The sun was low in the sky, and the air was getting colder when one of the coachmen opened the door. Galena shivered and pulled her fur-lined cloak about her.
“We are arrived, Ekaterina.”
Even before they could step from the carriage, the innkeeper and his staff stood bowing obsequiously at the door, welcoming them in Russian. Galena brushed past them regally, then beckoned for Katherine to follow. Alexei said something to his driver, who then communicated it to the innkeeper.
Inside, they were shown clean but starkly furnished rooms. Katherine watched, embarrassed, as her husband lifted the coverlets to see the linens. The innkeeper hovered him, eager to please. As soon as Alexei nodded, he breathed a sigh of relief, then turned to shout orders down the hall.
“We shall eat as peasants,”
Galena muttered. “Mutton dumplings, sour milk soup, boiled carp, beets, and black bread.”
“If you had ever traveled with an army, you’d be grateful for this,” Alexei told her.
Katherine’s stomach revolted. “I am too tired to eat,” she decided.
“The babe makes you too thin as it is,” he said. “You will eat.”
In truth, if she had not known what was served, Katherine would have enjoyed everything but the carp. As it was, she picked at her food, eating the dumplings and the bread. And when a bottle of vodka was produced, she excused herself to go up to bed.
But after she’d undressed and washed in the basin, she did not think she could sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the rag-covered woman, her half-naked babe in her arms. How could he and Galena care so much for the child within Katherine and not give a pin for the suffering of their own people?
She heard Galena’s steps on the creaky stairs, then they stopped outside the bedchamber. The doorknob turned, and the Russian woman peered inside. “Are you all right, cherie?”
“Yes.”
“You have not the headache?”
“No. I am tired.”
“Everything is new to you, Ekaterina. When you are more accustomed to our ways, you will feel better. And soon the babe will settle, and everything will be all right.”
The door closed again, and Alexei’s sister moved into the hall. Katherine sat in a chair drawn up to the freshly laid fire and stared into the flames that licked and popped over still green logs.
Homesickness? No, it was more than that. It was disappointment that Alexei could not understand her, that he was so different from her. And no amount of learning different customs or language or anything else would ever change her opinion of that. As callous as her countrymen were, she did not think any of them—not even someone like Bellamy Townsend—would have refused to aid the thin, tattered serfs she’d seen that day.
Somewhere, possibly from Galena’s room, angry voices rose, their words in heated Russian, and Katherine knew Alexei and his sister quarreled again over her. At least Galena tried to understand her, even when she did not agree.
She heard a door slam, followed by heavy steps in the hall, and she held her breath.
