Valerie's Russia

by Sara Judge

  After filling a glass of vodka, Pyotr slumped in his chair stretching out his legs and drinking lustily.

  Sophie had been to Mavara before with her parents, but that had been in the summer, his mother had been warned in advance, and in the warmth of a golden July life on the estate had been tranquil and relaxed.

  He remembered picnics down by the lake, meals eaten out-of-doors on the verandah overlooking the garden at the rear of the house, and his mother liking both Sophia and her parents.

  Now everything had changed. Pyotr tilted his glass and finished the vodka with one jerk of his hand. Now Valerie Marsh had entered his life and, despite their disagreements and her refusal to comply with his wishes, he could not erase her from his mind, nor from his future.

  He would have to marry Sophia Lukaev. There was no doubt about that. But he was not prepared to let his Little England go. She tantalized, irritated, and enchanted him, and he had somehow to use all his wits and charm into persuading her to be his mistress.

  Slowly Pyotr re-filled his glass and began to feel better.

  Valerie wheeled the excited Tassya to her room and left her in Dunya’s capable hands before returning to her own chamber where Dashka awaited her.

  At least she had garments that she could wear with pride, thanks to Grand Duchess Olga, and she had Dashka to assist her. But Valerie did not believe the maid would be able to style her hair the way she wished it.

  So she gave Dashka her fur and blue travelling suit to deal with and slipped on her long-sleeved cream peignoir. Then she sat on the stool in front of the mirror and turned her attention to her hair. Once that was arranged to her satisfaction, Dashka could help her with the apple-green satin dress.

  Heaving a sigh of determination, Valerie began undoing the pins and combs that kept her bun in place, then brushed out her long tresses until they shone like silk in the lamplight. The back locks returned to their normal bun and were coiled neatly at the back of her head. But the shorter side curls were not going to be pinned back from her face as usual.

  Instead, she fumbled in the small drawer in front of her and brought out the two side-pads, which she had brought with her from Tsarskoe Selo. Then with her tongue caught between her teeth, she began folding the loose curls over the pads, one to the right the other to the left, before anchoring them firmly with the grand duchess’s gold-encrusted combs.

  Once she had finished, Valerie smiled. The style gave width to her small face, as well as elegance, and with a thick gold necklace around her throat she looked almost regal.

  Dashka helped her with the dress then, with velvet slippers on her feet, Valerie stood for the last time in front of the long mirror.

  Her bodice and sleeves were of tucked white lace, caught at the wrists and neck with tiny pearl buttons, and over the rest of her slithered the apple-green satin. This had a high waist seam and was buttoned down to the hem, ending in narrow flared skirts, which allowed freedom of movement.

  After Dashka had given her the green and white lace fan, Valerie moved towards the door feeling taller and more confident. She didn’t know if her attire was correct for Mavara, but she was certain it would compare favourably with anything Sophia was wearing.

  As she opened her bedroom door she heard scurrying footsteps and Dunya, very red in the face, came to a breathless halt in front of her.

  ‘They are waiting for you, bárishna,’ she said.

  ‘I am coming.’ Valerie took a deep breath and followed Dunya down the passage.

  Countess Irina was the first to see Valerie. She was sitting in her chair facing the door, prepared to make an immediate critical comment on the foreigner’s late arrival. She had been watching and waiting, determined to put the English girl at a disadvantage and prove to her son, once and for all, that the clergyman’s daughter was not right for Mavara and certainly not the right sort of female to become his wife.

  But as she opened her mouth to speak, Countess Irina was stunned into silence.

  The girl radiated unusual beauty with her brown hair puffed out at the sides and ornamented with combs of gold. She had the appearance of nobility with her graceful satin-clad figure and thin-wristed hands, one of which was playing delicately with her fan.

  If Valerie Marsh were not a foreigner, and if her family had possessed reasonable wealth, she would have made an admirable bride for Pyotr, thought Irina, as her earlier views were dashed by the apparition in the doorway.

  Sophia was the next to see her. The men were immersed in conversation at the other end of the room, and Tassya had her back to the door and was watching Andrei Odarka.

  Sophia stared. The foreign upstart had done it again, she thought indignantly. But where had she obtained such a divine creation? It was a superbly cut garment with exquisite detail and finish. Had she brought it with her from England?

  Furtively, her eyes slid round to look across at Pyotr. What effect would this ravishing creature have on him?

  At that moment Andrei caught sight of Valerie over his friend’s shoulder, and he stopped talking at once to gesture towards the door.

  ‘Miss Marsh has arrived, Petya,’ he said, ‘and I think we must compliment her on her magnificent appearance.’

  He looked at his friend. How would Pyotr react? He was half in love with the girl already, and in that stunning outfit she seemed born to be a countess, at the very least.

  Pyotr spun round to stare at the open doorway where Valerie still hovered, unsure whether to come in and join the group, or whether they would all now rise and go through to the dining room.

  He had still not recovered from her words of dismissal, nor from the unexpected arrival of Sophia. Moreover, the St Petersburg beauty he could have at any time, but did not desire, and the one he lusted after refused his love.

  To make matters worse, here she was looking like an elegant, sophisticated society lady, when all he wanted was his innocent, simply dressed Little England.

  He might poke fun at her lack of fashion, and turn up his nose at her dowdiness, but beneath the mockery was his longing to protect and cherish such naiveté.

  Tonight, Valerie Marsh looked supremely confident and he hated the pride he detected in her, a pride that was one of his own worst failings.

  ‘Valerie,’ he said smoothly, ‘how nice you look, my dear. No doubt such careful grooming made you late. Shall we eat now, Mother?’ He offered his arm to the countess. ‘I am famished,’ he said, and led his mother past Valerie and out of the room.

  Silently Valerie watched, as first Pyotr and his mother, then Andrei and Sophia, went past her.

  ‘You look lovely, Valerie,’ said Tassya’s warm little voice, as Dunya wheeled her forward, ‘like a real princess’.

  She slipped her hand into the English girl’s, knowing her brother had not been kind and wanting to console her.

  ‘You look more beautiful than Sophia tonight and I am sure she is wishing she looked like you, and Pyotr is wishing you had her money.’

  Valerie smiled down at her companion, but didn’t speak as they moved along the corridor in the direction of the big, seldom used, dining room.

  It was very foolish to have dressed in such a grand manner to try to compete with Sophia. Tomorrow she would go back to being herself and concentrate on Tassya, and trying to persuade her to travel north to meet Father Grigorii.

  That was the most important thing now. Not attempting to impress Count Pyotr Silakov and his mother.

  Chapter Seven

  All through the meal Sophia dominated the conversation, determined to have everyone’s attention.

  Whilst Valerie strove to enjoy the servings of fish and salted cucumbers, goose with apples, and marinated fruits, Sophia chattered and laughed, fluttering her lashes and tossing her head first at Pyotr, then at Andrei.

  The countess did not speak at all and merely pecked at the various dishes, but Tassya finished everything Feodor set before her then looked around for more.

  Valerie smiled at the young girl’s
healthy appetite, but had difficulty in enjoying the small amounts she put in her mouth. However, she drank as much of the wine as she could and hoped it would help her through that painful evening.

  Perhaps Pyotr would find solace with Sophia tonight? Valerie was sure the beauty would not refuse him, and was equally sure that his mother would approve of that relationship. All Valerie wanted was to leave Mavara as soon as possible and return to the family who really cared for her.

  When the meal was completed they all moved to another room, a big salon at the rear of the house where Valerie had not been before. It must have been used for dances in the old days for the wooden floorboards were bare, there was a dusty grand piano in the far corner, and many high-backed chairs and one old brown sofa were set against the walls.

  A fire was burning in the open grate warming the room with its glow, and an oil lamp on the piano added its light to the stark surroundings.

  ‘You must come and stay with us in St Petersburg, dear Tassya,’ said Sophia suddenly, turning towards Pyotr’s sister. ‘I should love to spoil you for a while.’

  They had all taken their places on the various chairs, with Sophia and Andrei on the sofa, and Tassya’s chair wheeled up close to Valerie’s.

  ‘You are very kind.’ Tassya’s face was bright pink. ‘But I don’t feel able to manage such a long journey.’

  ‘Perhaps, if Miss Marsh were to ask Grand Duchess Olga very nicely, the Imperial train could be sent to bring you to the capital,’ said Andrei, with a wink at Valerie.

  Although he had not thought much of the English girl previously, she had astonished him tonight; much as she had surprised him that night at the Winter Palace. He did not feel Pyotr was treating her kindly this evening when she was looking so stunning.

  ‘No doubt Valerie Marsh could get the Imperial train for you,’ agreed Sophia silkily. ‘She seems able to get everything she wants in Russia, even though she is a foreigner.’

  ‘The Tsar likes foreigners,’ put in Countess Irina. ‘He even married a German woman – though what good she has done our beloved country, I do not know, producing four daughters and then an imbecile son.’

  ‘Now, Mother,’ broke in Pyotr swiftly, ‘the tsarevich is not insane, you know that quite well.’

  ‘Then why is he not seen more often in public? Why is he frequently ill? And why, when he does appear on some grand occasion is he often carried in the arms of his bodyguard? I have seen the photographs.’

  Valerie clasped her hands together, wishing they could be told the truth. Then there would be sympathy for the Imperial family instead of these unpleasant and misleading guesses.

  ‘Maybe Tsarevich Alexis has also suffered from an accident?’ said Tassya. ‘Being heir to the throne, it must be awful for him if he is in pain. Still, I’ve heard that the Romanovs are most devoted to each other – so that must be a great help in times of sorrow.’

  Pyotr stood up and went across to stand beside his sister.

  ‘And you have our love and devotion, Tassya, don’t ever forget that,’ he said, placing one hand on her narrow shoulder and looking down at her with a tenderness not often seen on his face.

  Valerie felt close to tears. How she longed to be part of the Silakov family. Even though Irina looked like a witch in her black crêpe, with her greying hair scraped back into a tight bun and her hard-working hands for once lying still on her lap, Valerie longed to help her. Hard work had never bothered her and she knew there was much she could do at Mavara.

  However, the invitation to Tassya to visit St Petersburg was a welcome possibility. If the girl would agree to staying with the Lukaevs, it would help Valerie’s plan enormously. She felt quite cheerful until Sophia spoke again.

  ‘I want to know why that peasant, Grigorii Rasputin, spends so much time over at Tsarskoe Selo,’ she said, intent upon drawing attention back to herself. ‘Some say he goes to pray over the tsarevich when he is ill. But others insist he spends most of his time with the Empress in her mauve boudoir. What do you think, Valerie Marsh? Ladies are wild about him in Petersburg, and I’ve heard he’s not only a man of God, but also a very fine man of the flesh!’

  Valerie’s face reddened. How dare that spoilt female say such things about the great healer!

  If only she could tell them about Alexis’s terrible bleeding and how Grigorii Rasputin was the only person who could help him. Pyotr knew of the boy’s suffering, but he didn’t know how he had been saved. If she could tell them it would prove Father Grigorii’s true worth.

  ‘Yes, I have had the honour of meeting Father Grigorii,’ she said, ‘and found him a most sincere and pious man.’

  ‘Pious!’ exclaimed Sophia. ‘That is scarcely what I have heard. Although he endeavours to cleanse people of their sins they have to sin first – and preferably with him!’ She glanced at Pyotr, her eyes alight with mischief. ‘Would you mind if I sinned with the Siberian moujik, Petya? Would that make you jealous?’

  Pyotr, irritated by talk of the peasant and knowing of Valerie’s interest in the man, left his sister’s side and walked over to the piano.

  ‘If you feel compelled to sin with Rasputin, why should it disturb me, Sophia? Do as you wish, dear lady. Now let us change the subject and allow beauty to dominate the rest of this night.’ He lifted the piano lid and looked across at the girl in primrose velvet. ‘Play for us, Sophia, and use your gift of music to lighten our hearts, I beg.’

  When she stopped playing there was silence in the room apart from muffled sobs coming from Tassya, whose head was bent forward as she tried to control her tears.

  ‘Was my playing so depressing that you had to weep, Tassya?’ asked Sophia gently.

  ‘It was so beautiful I could not help myself,’ cried the girl. ‘You made me cry from joy, Sophia Lukaev!’

  That broke the spell and everyone laughed and clapped, and exclamations of congratulations flew around the room, pleasing the pianist and making Valerie realize that Sophia was very talented as well as beautiful.

  ‘If you love music, Tassya, you must make the effort to visit St Petersburg,’ said Sophia, swinging round on the stool. ‘I will take you to the Mariansky Theatre where we will watch Karsavina dance, and to the opera to hear Fedor Chaliapin sing. And you will love it all, I know you will!’

  She leaned forward, a soft graceful figure in her yellow gown.

  ‘Just say you will come, Tassya, and you’ll have a wonderful time.’

  Tassya frowned. ‘Will Valerie be there?’ she said.

  Sophia hesitated but before she could think of something to say, Valerie broke in.

  ‘Why not come with us when we return to St Petersburg?’ she said. ‘I shall be going down to the Crimea with the Imperial family for Easter, but until then I shall be at Tsarskoe Selo. It would be lovely to see you again. Oh, please come, Tassya.’

  Fortunately Andrei came to her aid. ‘Let us decide now on Tassya Silakov’s triumphant entry to the capital,’ he announced, standing up and moving to the centre of the room, ‘and celebrate accordingly!’

  ‘But I am not sure.’ Tassya looked across at her mother. ‘Would it be all right to go?’ Then she looked at Sophia. ‘Are you sure your parents will not mind a girl in a wheelchair in their house? Oh, Valerie, I would love to travel with you and Petya when you go north. And perhaps I could meet Grand Duchess Olga? I can’t believe all this could really happen to me.’ She was almost crying again.

  ‘You go with them,’ said Countess Irina gruffly. ‘It will be the only chance you will ever have of making that long journey. So, if Sophia means it, you have my blessing.’

  ‘Of course I mean it!’ said Sophia. If Tassya was a guest in her home it would mean more visits from her handsome brother to the Lukaev mansion.

  Pyotr did not comment. It would be good for his sister and future bride to get to know each other better, but he did not intend proposing to Sophia just yet. First he had to sort out matters with the difficult Miss Marsh.

  ‘That is set
tled then,’ said Andrei, with a grin at the ecstatic Tassya. ‘Now play us a waltz, Sophia, a waltz by Chopin, and I shall take great pleasure in dancing with you, Tassya Silakov.’

  Sophia, glancing at the tall fair-haired man who was about to lift a gasping, squealing girl up in his strong arms, smiled and turned back to the piano.

  As the light joyous sound floated into the sombre room, Andrei moved with it holding Tassya like thistledown, his body swaying in time to the melody.

  Tassya’s poor wasted legs were hidden beneath the folds of her scarlet dress and with one arm around Andrei’s neck, the other on his chest, she looked happier than Valerie had ever seen her.

  That was how she should always look and, maybe, with Father Grigorii’s help, a normal life lay ahead for the young girl. A life where she could walk, and dance, and flirt, to her heart’s content.

  Suddenly her thoughts were broken by Pyotr’s voice.

  ‘Miss Marsh, may I have the pleasure?’

  He had ignored her for long enough and now was the perfect time to put his arms around her and show forgiveness. Besides, he loved dancing and had learnt at the Winter Palace what an excellent partner his Little England was.

  Valerie was caught unawares. But the music, and Tassya’s happiness, lulled her into submission.

  ‘Thank you, Count Silakov,’ she replied, with equal formality.

  He placed one hand around her waist and caught her right one in his firm grasp, then they were close, as close as they had been at the Grand Ball. As they moved in unison to the haunting notes of the music, Valerie relaxed.

  ‘Well, Varinka, how are you feeling?’ His voice was low, his lips almost touching her hair. ‘This is right, is it not? Our bodies almost as one.’

  She tried to pull back a little, aware of his thighs brushing against the clinging satin of her gown, of his wine-scented breath against her cheek.

  ‘Don’t hold me so close,’ she whispered, wishing she didn’t love him, wishing she didn’t care about Sophia.