‘Buy a necklace, just two pennies.’
She had held out a bundle of coloured cords each holding a tiny glass bead then when Ann had refused her wares had turned to Alec.
‘Buy a necklace from a gypsy young sir, a present for a sweetheart . . . come choose a colour, they all be—’
The words had broken off as Alec came round the side of the cart. The woman’s bronzed face paled, her jet black eyes suddenly glazing over as they fastened on him, while her voice, which seconds before had held a jaunty note, became no more than a murmur.
‘Kalo!’
Her body had trembled.
‘Kalo RAI!’
Cords had spilled from her shaking fingers, falling to the ground like slivers of rainbow.
‘He comes Kalo RAI . . . he takes the eagle’s brood, Raklies . . .’
She had held up four fingers of her left hand.
‘Mush . . .’
One finger had lifted on her right hand, staying a moment in the air before both hands dropped to her sides, but her stare had stayed on Alec who had picked up the fallen necklaces and was handing them back to her.
‘The nest lies empty . . .’
She had droned on. ‘. . . but Kalo RAI is not gone, he waits . . . he waits in the shadows.’
‘Elva.’
A second woman called from the steps of a caravan painted with flowers, its sides holding a medley of pots and kettles blackened by use.
‘Elva don’t mean to be botherin’ of you.’
The woman had moved so swiftly.
Ann paused in the task of turning a large round cheese. She could not recall the woman leaving the steps of the caravan, could not remember her crossing the open ground; one moment she had been a distance away yet it seemed in the next she stood beside the girl she had named Elva. Her eyes were also blackbird bright, her skin the same sun-polished bronze, but the sable hair emerging from beneath a red bandanna was dusted over with a sprinkling of grey.
‘She is not bothering us, she was very kindly offering to sell us a necklace.’
A smiling Alec was taking coins from his pocket but it was the look in the second woman’s eyes that held Ann’s inner gaze, one bright with what could almost be fear as they rested on Alec.
‘There be no need o’ buyin’ . . .’
Her words to them had been sharp but those muttered to Elva, though unintelligible to Ann, had left no doubt they were a reprimand.
‘Please,’ Alec had said as the younger woman had turned away, ‘please, I would like to buy a necklace, they are very pretty.’
There had been none of that earlier dazed stare; the girl’s eyes were now brilliant as black gemstones as her fingers closed hastily on the coin Alec proffered.
‘I be givin’ you good day.’
‘Wait!’ Ann had cried. ‘Tell us,’ she had asked as that blackbird stare had met her own, ‘tell us what Elva’s words meant.’
There had been long moments of silence, the woman clearly undecided, then as Ann’s request was repeated she had said quietly, ‘Raklies be girls, mush be boy or man.’
‘And Kalo RAI?’
The gypsy’s glance had flicked to Alec then returned to Ann with an intensity which seemed to bore into her very soul and when she spoke it was with a voice that seemed strangely not her own.
‘The wings of the eagle be broken, its chicks cry no more . . . Kalo RAI searches for another . . . the dark Lord of Death waits in the shadows.’
It had been so very like Maija’s words as translated by the priest. But death waited for everyone! With this common sense in mind Ann turned the last of the cheeses then made for the cellar steps, but even as her feet touched the first one she asked the question for which common sense had provided no answer.
What had been meant by an eagle pushed from its nest?
Emerging from the cellar Ann experienced a sudden sense of foreboding.
It made no sense; yet three women whose lives were worlds apart had said the same thing.
‘You do love me, Thomas?’
Love Sarah Clews! Thomas Thorpe’s face twisted in disgust. He could sooner love a sow! How could she ever think herself a minister’s wife . . . if it wasn’t so ludicrous he would laugh. But laughter, like his promise to deal with Edward Langley, would have to wait.
‘Mother be knowin’ my times; when I be over again this next month there’ll be no puttin’ her off, the band’ll bost for sure.’
That part was true enough. Thorpe grimaced again. Ada Clews’ anger would shout to the rooftops, the entire town would know who was responsible for her daughter’s condition. He could of course deny the whole thing, say it was a lie told to cover the tracks of another who had taken himself away on learning of his lover’s pregnancy. But then such a feast of gossip would feed the townsfolk for months.
But that was one junket the townsfolk would be denied.
Thorpe reached for the jacket draped across the back of a chair, smiling at the decision he made at the moment of assuring the girl of his devotion.
Lay preacher! The term stung like an angry wasp. He should be more than that, he would be more than that, it was his chapel, he was its minister . . .
Another thought followed on, one reminding him that scandal was an enemy not easily defeated, folk could be swayed in the wind of it. Its blast could blow Thomas Thorpe clean out of the chapel.
Unless, he mused as he thrust both arms into the sleeves of the coat worn for visiting parishioners, unless another more juicy dish was provided, and of course it would be.
‘You do want to be married in our own faith, in our own chapel.’
He had laid the ground carefully.
‘Your family, all of our friends, they might not attend should the ceremony be held in some other church; that would spoil your day I know.’
‘But we don’t ’ave no proper minister.’
Had she seen the look sweep across his face, the pallor of bitterness snatch colour from his cheeks?
‘You does the job good as any,’ she had rushed on, ‘but only a minister can marry folk and we don’t ’ave one.’
‘I wrote again last week, someone will come.’
‘And if he don’t, if it be same as before, that there be nobody comes despite your askin’, then we’ll ’ave to be wed in some other place.’
‘No my love.’ He had mastered his distaste at taking the lumpy body in his arms, having her sniff against his chest. ‘I won’t have anything mar our special day, we will be married in this chapel.’
She had looked up at him, tear-reddened eyes rendering plain features even less attractive, a nasal, ‘But how?’ babbling on a fresh tide. He had drawn her head back against his chest. An act of comfort? Thorpe’s smile spread a sliver of ice along his mouth. The comfort had been for him, that way he had avoided looking at the girl he had come to despise.
‘There is a chapel in Darlaston,’ he had murmured softly, ‘there is a minister there, maybe he will come perform the ceremony here.’
Leaving the house in Cross Street Thorpe’s mind continued to review the events of the previous evening. It would go better if they saw the minister together, he would see for himself the feelings they held for each other. Saying as much had all but stuck in his throat but Sarah, thick stupid Sarah, had taken his choked words to be ones of love, her arms reaching up to embrace him as he had gone on to say the man would not deny them and that very soon they would no longer need hide their love.
She had wanted to rush off, to tell her parents that very night that Thomas Thorpe wished to marry her. Striding quickly along streets grey with the lowering evening Thorpe laughed quietly to himself.
‘Please my love . . .’ he had replied, holding her the closer, ‘give me a few more hours, a little while longer of having that delight whisper its secret in my heart.’
The fool had swallowed it as eagerly as a babe sucking its mother’s milk and now they were going to Darlaston.
The laugh dissolved, leaving a
stone in its place.
Sarah Clews would not be speaking with that minister; Sarah Clews would not be speaking to anyone ever again.
‘I wish it could have been splendid as the jewels worn by . . .’
‘Jewels,’ Leah looked up at the hesitation, ‘and where might it be you seen “splendid jewels”?’
Ann glanced across from where she had been replacing supper dishes on the dresser and saw the bloom of pink rising in Alec’s cheeks. He had obviously made a slip of the tongue, said something he wished he hadn’t.
‘I . . . it was . . .’
Ann watched the agitation on the young face, echoed in the faltering reply. Was Alec trying to cover his embarrassment at offering a cheap trinket?
‘It was at Peterhof.’
Ann smiled at the firmness of the reply yet at the same moment felt remorse that she could have suspected him of speaking anything but the truth.
‘Peterhof you says,’ Leah frowned, ‘now where be that place?’
‘It is in St Petersburg, it is the Imperial Palace of the Tsar.’
‘Tsar.’ Leah’s frown changed to a benevolent smile. ‘Imperial Palace! You sure you ain’t been a dreamin’, lad?’
Alec’s answer when it came was quiet as the smile curling his mouth, his eyes glistening with pleasure as if looking on a different world.
‘Not my dream, Grandmother Leah, but one told to me by a friend of my mother. It was, she said, a ball given in honour of Prince Carol of Romania. It was rumoured he was to ask the Tsar for the hand of the Grand Duchess Olga who, it was also rumoured, did not like him but protocol insisted she attend the ball along with her parents and sisters. My mother’s friend told they looked so wonderful, the Tsar in military uniform with golden medals and orders of award gleaming beneath an avenue of amethyst chandeliers, the Tsarina in a white gown that glistened like frost on a winter’s morning, great necklaces of diamonds about her throat, jewelled bracelets on her arms flashing fountains of silver fire as she moved. The Grand Duchesses Olga, Tatiana, Marie, were each like their mother dressed in white gowns, but theirs were worn with silk sashes tied about the waist, matching to perfection the colour of gemstones in necklace and tiara. All three looked like delicate white butterflies flitting in a field of brilliant flowers as they danced among the guests, the gowns of the ladies a lovely rainbow of colour: she said it was like watching a fairy tale.’
‘It certainly be like listenin’ to one.’
‘Perhaps one day I might give you a real diamond.’
‘No lad.’ Leah smiled down at the cord held between her fingers. ‘This along of the jewels I already ’ave be more precious than any a queen might wear; mine don’t be stones found deep in the earth but gems that lie in the heart: my diamonds be the love given by a husband and children, my rubies be the deep affection I know Edward Langley has ever felt for me and my pearls . . . they be the happiness for the friendship you and Ann ’ave given. These treasures of the soul be the true riches of life, beside which . . .’
Leah laughed lightly but Ann sensed the emotion it tried to cover.
‘. . . what would I go a doin’ with a real diamond when I ’ave this pretty necklace to wear? I couldn’t go a puttin’ it on old Betsy, her’d try eatin’ of it like her does everythin’ else, and for sure I couldn’t be drapin’ it about the neck of one of the girls for the rest would be so jealous they’d stop givin’ milk.’
Alec went quickly to put his arms about her. ‘Then you will always wear pearls and rubies for you will always have my friendship and my affection.’
‘And you’ll always ’ave my love.’ Leah returned the kiss planted on her cheek. ‘Now get y’self off to bed and I’ll fetch you up a nice cup o’ cocoa.’
Chapter 30
‘The lad be nigh on asleep afore he finished of his cocoa.’ Leah smiled at Edward who at her usual insistence had stayed for ‘a bit o’ supper’.
‘She’s really taken to the boy.’ Edward Langley’s glance followed the dark-skirted figure as it disappeared into the scullery. ‘She’ll really miss him when he leaves for good but then we must accept that he will want to search for these relations of his.’
He had wanted to ask if Ann would be going with him but not wanting to hear her say yes Edward’s glance dropped to his own cup.
‘Leah will understand.’
‘What be it I’ll understand?’ Leah emerged from the scullery.
‘That when the time comes Alec will go search for his relatives . . . maybe even return to St Petersburg.’
Edward looked up quickly. ‘The place you say he talked of. Did you know it?’
‘The Peterhof.’ Ann nodded. ‘I knew of it, I would imagine everyone in St Petersburg did. It is a very beautiful building, the walls are sandy pink with pilasters at each corner reaching to the eaves and the large windows are set in high graceful arches. I only saw it depicted in a watercolour painted I think by my mother. I could not bring . . .’ Ann stopped speaking for a moment, fighting tears. ‘The embassy would not pay . . . I did not have money enough to ship my parents’ belongings home.’
Watching Ann’s struggle with emotion Edward’s grip tightened fiercely about the stout pottery mug. If he could take her in his arms, comfort her with his love, but the cool politeness she had always shown him had intensified since he found her in Chapel House. It seemed almost she was afraid of friendship, afraid to allow anyone other than Leah and the boy to get close to her. Why? Did some man already hold her heart, had she gone to him on returning home; was that the hurt he sometimes caught reflected in those vivid blue eyes, had some man turned from her, hurt her so deeply she could not trust another? He smiled grimly to himself. Whatever the truth was, why would Ann Spencer take a lame man for a husband?
Feeling Leah’s eyes on him he took up the conversation. ‘The way Alec described that ballroom, the guests, the clothes they wore, it was pretty impressive. Do you think he saw the inside of that Peterhof place, that maybe he saw the event he spoke about?’
Ann shook her head. ‘I very much doubt that. What I learned from reading my father’s books supports what Alec said. The Peterhof is one of the imperial palaces of the Tsar, reason enough for not allowing a young boy to wander its rooms much less attend a function, especially one as import-ant as a possible royal engagement.’
‘One of the palaces!’ Edward smiled.
‘Tsar be another word for King don’t it?’ Leah slipped a cup on to its hook on the dresser then glanced at Edward. ‘So like our own King George he’ll ’ave more’n one palace to his name.’
‘My father’s books recorded several built by Catherine the Great, she presented them as gifts to various of her lovers; these of course are not imperial palaces and so not as beautiful as the Peterhof or the larger Winter Palace, though they are very elegant.’
‘Bit much for me, I wouldn’t know which room to be in next.’
‘Bit much for all of us.’ Edward’s smile flipped to Leah before returning to Ann. ‘Alec,’ he said, ‘has he ever spoken of any other place, of where he lived, of his parents?’ At Ann’s shake of the head he continued, ‘Don’t you find that odd? That in all the time you have been together he hasn’t once spoken of where he is from? Of why his parents let him leave that country alone?’
‘There has to be a reason; could the lad be orphaned?’ wondered Leah.
‘He spoke of a mother, it was a friend of his mother told them of that ball.’
‘ “It was told to me by a friend of my mother,” ’ Ann corrected, ‘Alec said it was told to him, not to his mother.’
‘There y’be.’ Leah stirred milk into tea Ann poured. ‘The poor woman must be dead and her man along of her, ain’t no other explanation for a lad o’ that age bein’ sent so far on his own!’
‘There was a man with Alec.’ Ann stared down at her own cup. ‘They were together in the Ploschad Morskoy Slavy, the great square fronting St Petersburg docks, he . . . the man . . .’ Ann was suddenly back in that mome
nt, her ears filled with the sounds of horses’ hooves pounding on flagstones, the shouts of men, the screams of terrified women and children running for their lives, the crack of a pistol shot bouncing from wall to wall of the surrounding buildings, leaping from one to another, reverberating, drumming its deadly tattoo. ‘The man . . .’ Her voice had become the whisper of a frightened observer. ‘He is asking for help . . . my father . . . he knows my father . . . nooo!’
‘Ann.’ Edward caught a trembling hand. ‘Ann, it’s all right!’
‘Let ’er be,’ Leah said softly. ‘Whatever be inside won’t never heal lessen it be brought into the open.’
Ann blinked away the scene but not the regret colouring her next words.
‘The man said he worked with my father at the embassy, he spoke of a promise; he wanted my help but I didn’t listen. I didn’t listen and then . . . a soldier on horseback shot him and I grabbed Alec and we ran away.’
‘That be a terrible thing for any to witness, more so for a lad young as Alec were, the shock o’ that could be cause of his not talkin’ of his folk or his whereabouts.’
‘Yes.’ Edward nodded agreement. ‘I’ve seen the like in men so shocked by what they witnessed on the battlefield they only survived by shutting it completely out of mind.’
‘That was not the only thing that happened.’
‘You means the robbery on that boat, some no good a stealin’ of your money!’
‘There was more than that, I . . . I didn’t tell you the rest. It happened on that same boat.’ Ann talked on as Leah slipped into a chair beside Edward. ‘I don’t truly know how it happened, I’ve gone over it so many times; maybe the darkness of that night, the worry of finding myself not as I’d thought on a steamer for England, but on the ferry sailing to Finland has made things unclear in my mind.’
Leah was sympathetic. ‘Tek your time Ann wench. It be summat of the same wi’ y’self as wi’ the lad, your mind most like were numbed by fright.’
‘I did not see it happen, he must have been waiting in the shadows . . .’
‘Ann, you don’t have to—’
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