Granny Dan

by Danielle Steel

  “What if I go for a few weeks?” It was a small concession on her part, but at least a beginning.

  “You will still not be able to dance then. At least go for a month, and we will see how you feel then. If you hate being there, you can always come back and continue convalescing here. But at least go for a month, you can always stay longer if you want to, since they have been kind enough to invite you. And I promise I will come and visit you.”

  It was a hard compromise for Danina, but she finally agreed. And the day she was to leave, she cried rivers at the thought of leaving her friends and mentor. “We're not sending you to Siberia,” Madame Markova reminded her gently.

  “It feels like it,” Danina smiled through her tears, dismally sorry to leave them. “I will miss you so much,” she said, clinging to Madame Markova's hand. A special covered sled had been sent for her journey. It was warm and comfortable and filled with furs and heavy blankets. The Czarina had spared nothing for her. And Dr. Obrajensky had come to accompany her. But before he came, he had checked everything for her in the guest house, which was warm and comfortable, and he knew she would be very happy in it. He also carried a message from Alexei, who could hardly wait to see her, and said he had a new card trick to teach her.

  The dancers were all lined up outside to see her off, and everyone waved as the sled drove away, with the doctor sitting beside her. She was so nervous that he held her hand, and she waved frantically at them with the other. And before they even reached Tsarskoe Selo, she was exhausted from the emotions of the departure.

  “It's my whole life, you know. I don't know anything else. I've been there for so long, I can't imagine being anywhere else, even for a minute. “ She explained it to him as they rode along, but he already understood it. And as always, he was kind and sympathetic.

  “You're not going to lose anything by being away for a while. You'll get your strength back, Danina, just as you should, and they'll all be waiting for you when you return. And you'll be better than ever. Trust me.” She did, and she was grateful for his support and companionship on the trip. It was so easy being with him. It was easy to see why the whole Imperial family loved him.

  And as soon as they arrived, he settled her comfortably in the little guest house, which was more luxurious than anything she had ever dreamed. The bedroom was done all in pink satin, and the living room was a lovely blue and yellow. There were beautiful antiques everywhere, a kitchen to prepare her meals, there were four servants to take care of her, and two nurses. And half an hour after she arrived, the Czarina came to visit her, and brought Alexei with her, so he could show Danina his card trick. Both of them were shocked to see how hard hit she had been by her illness, and were glad that she had come there to recover. They only stayed a little while, so as not to tire her, and when they left, the doctor went with them. He didn't want to exhaust her either, and he promised to come and see her again in the morning to make sure she was “behaving.”

  It was odd for her, being there that night, without all the familiar people she knew, and the other girls she was accustomed to sleeping near. Despite the luxurious surroundings, she felt lonely. And she was surprised when the nurse came into her room, shortly after settling her in bed, and told her she had a visitor. Dr. Obrajen-sky had returned to see her. It was only eight o'clock, but she hadn't been expecting him again until morning, and she was surprised by the unexpected visit.

  “I was on my way home,” he explained, “and thought I'd come by to see how you were doing.” He looked her over carefully from where he stood, and could see that his suspicions had been correct. She was looking a little mournful. “I had a feeling you might be lonely.”

  “I was,” she confessed sheepishly, wondering how he knew. He seemed to understand so much about her. “I suppose that's silly of me.” She was embarrassed to seem so ungrateful to him.

  “Of course it's not,” he said, pulling a chair up next to her bed, and sitting beside her. “You're accustomed to living in a community of people.” He had seen the room she lived in with five other dancers, and had begun to know many of the others in the time he visited her after her illness. “It's a big change for you being all alone here.” And she was still so young, only nineteen. She was so disciplined and mature in some ways, but extremely protected and childlike in others. And he loved that about her. “Is there anything I can do to make it easier for you?”

  “No, I love your visits.” She smiled at him. The one this evening had particularly touched her, because he seemed to understand exactly what she was feeling.

  “Then I shall have to visit more often,” he promised. It was easier for him to see her now, it was a short walk between her cottage and the Alexander Palace. He knew that Alexei and his sisters were already planning to keep her company, that was their intention, and the whole point of her coming. “You won't be lonely for long, and soon you can go for walks, and go over to the palace, when you're stronger.” She still couldn't walk across the room without assistance. “I predict you will feel better in no time.” She felt foolish suddenly for being lonely. Everyone was being so kind to her. In spite of missing her friends and Madame Markova, she was suddenly glad she had come here.

  “Thank you for arranging it,” she said gratefully. “I'm happy to be here.”

  “I'm glad you came, Danina,” he said quietly, looking relaxed and a little tired. It was the end of a long day for him, and she was sure he was anxious to get home to his wife and children. She felt guilty keeping him with her, but she enjoyed being with him. “I would have been so disappointed if you hadn't come.”

  “So would I,” she admitted with a smile that touched deep into his heart, although she didn't know it. “This house is lovely.” She looked around admiringly, still awed by the luxury they had lavished on her. She had never seen anything like it.

  “I thought you'd like it.” He smiled gently at her.

  “It would be hard not to,” she admitted.

  “Will you miss dancing terribly?” he asked, already knowing the answer, but fascinated by her life at the ballet.

  “I live to dance,” she said. “It is the only life I know, the only one I want. I cannot imagine existing without it. Not being able to dance would probably kill me.” He nodded, watching her eyes, her face. He loved talking to her. And now that she was feeling better, she had a delicious sense of humor.

  “You'll dance again soon, Danina, I promise.” But not too soon. She had a lot of ground to cover before she was strong enough to do that, and they both knew it. “You'll have to think of something else to do in the meantime.” He had already brought a stack of books for her, and she had promised herself she would read them. She never had time to read anything when she was dancing.

  “Do you like poetry?” he asked cautiously, not wanting to seem foolish and pedantic to her, but it was one of his passions.

  “Very much.” She nodded.

  “I'll bring some tomorrow. I'm especially fond of the works of Pushkin. Perhaps you'd like him.” She had read a little of him years before, and would be happy to read more of his work, since she had the time now. “I'll come and see you tomorrow after I see Alexei. Perhaps I can have lunch here, so you won't be too solitary.” And with that, he stood up, but he seemed reluctant to leave her. “You'll be all right tonight, won't you?” He was worried about her, he didn't want her to be unhappy.

  “I'll be fine,” she said with a warm smile. “I promise. Now go home to your family or they'll think I'm a dreadful nuisance.”

  “They understand what it is to live with a doctor. I'll see you tomorrow then,” he said from the doorway, and she waved from her bed, thinking again how kind he was and how lucky she was to know him.

  Chapter 3

  The book that Dr. Obrajensky brought the next day was so beautiful it brought tears to her eyes as he read some of it to her. He was slowly opening a door to a world she had never known or dreamed of, a world of intellectual pursuits and cerebral interests. Only that morning, s
he had begun reading one of the novels he had left her. And over lunch, they discussed it. Like the poetry he had brought, it was among his favorites. And the time she spent talking to him seemed to pass like minutes.

  They were both surprised to discover that it was four o'clock in the afternoon when he left, and he hated to admit, she looked exhausted.

  “I should not be the one tiring you,” he said, looking remorseful. “I of all people should know better.”

  “I'm fine,” she promised him, having thoroughly enjoyed the time they spent talking. She had eaten lunch in bed, and he had sat at a small table near her.

  “I want you to sleep now,” he said gently, helping her settle deeper into her bed and rearranging her pillows for her. It was a job the nurse could do, but he liked doing it for her. “Sleep for as long as you can. I am dining at the palace tonight, and I'll check on you on my way home, if that's all right with you.” It was what he had done the night before, and she had loved it. It had blown away the cobwebs of loneliness she had been feeling.

  “I'd like that,” she said, already looking sleepy. He turned off the lights next to her, and walked quietly out of the room, and turned to look at her from the doorway. Her eyes were already closed, and by the time he left the little house, she was sleeping. And she slept peacefully until dinner.

  When she woke up she found a drawing next to her bed. Alexei had come to visit her that afternoon, and the nurse had told him she was sleeping. He had left a drawing for her, of her trying to swim the previous summer. Like most boys his age, he loved to tease her. And he felt particularly comfortable with her, as she was the same age as his sisters.

  She had soup for dinner that night, and she was sipping tea when Dr. Obrajensky came back to see her on his way home from the Alexander Palace. He seemed to be in a lighthearted mood, and told her all about his dinner. He dined with the Imperial family several times a week, in fact more often than he did not.

  “They are wonderful people,” he said warmly. He was a great admirer of both the Czar and the Czarina. “They have so much responsibility, so many burdens. It's a hard time in the world, especially now with the war. And there has been a great deal of unrest in the cities. And of course, Alexei's health is always a great worry to them.” His hemophilia was a constant problem, which necessitated the presence of a doctor near him at every instant. It was why the doctor spent as much time as he did with them, although he shared the responsibility with Dr. Botkin.

  “It must be hard for you too,” Danina said quietly, “having to be away from your family so much, and your own children.” Danina knew that his wife was English and that they had two boys, twelve and fourteen.

  “The Czar and Czarina seem to understand it, and they're very kind about inviting Marie. But she never comes. She hates social occasions. She prefers to be at home with the boys, or just sitting quietly and sewing. She has no interest whatsoever in my work or the people I work for.”

  It was hard for Danina to believe, particularly given who they were. They were hardly ordinary employers. And she couldn't help wondering if in some way his wife was jealous of him. It was hard to believe she was that antisocial. Perhaps she was shy, or awkward in some way.

  “Her Russian is poor, too, which makes it difficult for her. She's really never taken the time to learn it.” It was a long-standing bone of contention between them, although he didn't say that to Danina. It would have seemed disloyal to complain about Marie to her, and yet it intrigued him that the two women seemed so different. The one so filled with vitality, the other so tired, so unhappy, so bored, so constantly disenchanted about something.

  Even after her illness, Danina's energy and excitement about life was contagious. And her conversations with him were a new experience for her as well. Other than the boys she danced with at the ballet, she had never had men friends, been courted by anyone, or had a romance. Her only relationship with men had been with her brothers as a child, and now she seldom saw them anymore. They were always too busy to come to visit. They came to St. Petersburg to see her dance about once a year, and her father came scarcely more often. They were deeply involved with their responsibilities to the army.

  But with Nikolai Obrajensky, it was all so different. He was becoming her friend, someone she could really talk to. She said so now, and he looked pleased to hear it. He loved talking to her, sharing his books and his views and the poetry he loved. In fact, there was a great deal he loved about her, and he also told himself that theirs was a comfortable friendship. He had almost mentioned her to Marie before she arrived, and had when she was very, very ill, but only in passing. He said he had been called to the ballet for one of the dancers who had a lethal case of influenza. But she had never asked him about it again, and once he knew Danina better, he had decided not to say anything more about her. In some ways, it was easier keeping their friendship a secret.

  Years ago, he wouldn't have done that, but now, after fifteen years, he found that he had little or no desire to tell Marie about his life. She seemed completely uninterested in it. She had nothing to say to him most of the time. They had gone through a hard patch for a while, a few years before, when she wanted to go back to England. Or at least send their sons to school there. But he had objected to it. He wanted them close to him, where he could see them. But now she wasn't even angry about it. She was completely indifferent to him. But she never missed an opportunity to tell him how much she hated Russia, and living there. In contrast, the time he spent with Danina was so easy. She had no complaints about her life. She loved everything about it, and she was basically a happy person.

  “Do your boys look like you?” she asked casually.

  “People say they do.” He smiled. “I don't really see it. I think they look more like their mother. They're fine children. They're actually growing up to be young men now. I think of them as little boys, and I have to remind myself they no longer are. They get very angry at me about it. They're very independent. They'll be men soon, and probably going off to the army to serve the Czar.” Thinking about it reminded her of her brothers, and made her long for them. She worried about them a lot more now, ever since war had been declared the previous summer.

  She told him about them then, and he smiled, listening. She was regaling him with tales of them, when she referred to him as “doctor,” and he looked at her sadly. It made him feel so old, and distant from her, not the friends they had become in the short time they'd known each other.

  Although she'd met him the previous summer at Livadia, it was only now, since she'd been ill, that she really came to know him. And their friendship was strong and growing.

  “Can't you call me Nikolai?” he asked. “It seems much simpler somehow.” And very personal, but she didn't think anything of it. She liked him. He asked it so humbly that, like so many other things he said, it touched her, and she smiled at him, looking more like a child than a young woman. Their friendship was so innocent and so harmless.

  “Of course, if you prefer it. I can still address you more formally in front of others.” It seemed more respectful, and she was sensitive both to his position and the difference in age between them. He was twenty years older than she was.

  “That sounds reasonable.” He seemed pleased with the agreement.

  “Will I meet your wife while I'm here?” Danina asked, curious about her, and his children.

  “I doubt it,” he said honestly. “She comes to the palace as little as possible. As I said, she hates going out, and declines all the Czarina's invitations, except perhaps once a year, when she feels obliged to.”

  “Will it hurt you with the Imperial family?” Danina asked openly. “Does the Czarina get angry about it?”

  “Not that I'm aware of. If she does, she is far too discreet to say so. And I think she realizes that my wife is not an easy person.” It was the first real glimpse she'd had into his home life. In truth, although they had spoken of many things, she knew nothing personal about him. And she had envisioned him
with a warm family, and a happy home life.

  “Your wife must be very shy,” Danina said generously.

  “No, I don't think so.” He smiled sadly. Unlike Danina, there were so many differences between them. “She doesn't like wearing fancy clothes and evening gowns. She's very English. She likes to ride and to hunt, she likes being at her father's estate in Hampshire. And anything other than that is boring to her.” He didn't say “including me,” but he would have liked to, to Danina. For a long time now, their marriage had been a disappointment to both of them, but mainly to him, except for the existence of their children. But they were very different. She was cool and aloof, and indifferent in many ways. And he was warm and open. She was bored by the life he led, and in angry moments called him the Czar's lapdog. And Nikolai was sick to death of her complaining about it. It was easy to understand why she had no friends here, she was so cold and so jealous. Even their sons were tired of her complaints. All she really wanted was to go back to England. And she expected him to drop everything, all his responsibilities here, and come with her, which wasn't even remotely likely. If she ever went back permanently, he had warned her, she would have to do so without him.

  “Why does she dislike it so much here?” Danina asked with open curiosity.

  “The winters, or so she says. The weather is hardly more pleasant in England, although here it's colder. She doesn't like the people, or the country. She even hates the food.” He smiled. It was an ancient litany between them.

  “She'd like it better if she learned Russian,” Danina said simply.

  “I've tried to explain that to her. It's her way of not committing herself to staying here. As long as she doesn't speak Russian, she's not really here, or so she thinks. But it doesn't make life easy for her.” It had been a long fifteen years for him, particularly for the past few years, but he didn't go so far as to explain all of that to Danina. Or how lonely he was. Or how glad he was to sit here talking to her, or share his books with her. If it wasn't for the boys, he would have let Marie go back to England years before. There was nothing between them now, except their children. “Her father is frightening her now about the war. And he thinks that one day there will be a revolution. He says the country is too big to control, and Nicholas is too weak to do it, which is ridiculous. But she believes that. Her father has always been something of a hysteric.”