Hospital, Hughesovka
September 1871
‘Did you sort out your business with Igor?’ Nathan asked Sarah when she returned to the hospital from the company head office.
‘Yes, thank you. Nathan, I did. I’m sorry, but I have to leave.’
‘The hospital?’
‘Hughesovka.’
He turned his chair around until he faced her. ‘May I ask why?’
‘I’m needed back in England. I have family problems.’
‘You want to bring up your child in England?’
‘How did you …’ it was then she remembered that Peter knew she was pregnant before she’d told him. ‘You doctors know far too much about the human condition.’
‘Is Glyn the father?’
‘Glyn?’ She repeated in confusion.
‘I try to avoid gossip, but people who should know better have been saying that it was a mistake for you and your brother-in-law to share a house after your husband’s death. I know it’s forbidden for a brother to marry his dead brother’s wife in England so I assumed …’
‘You assumed wrong, Nathan. No, Glyn is not the father of my child. My leaving is nothing to do with him. In fact I have to ask you to keep an eye on Praskovia. She’s pregnant with Glyn’s child. He told me in confidence before he left for St Petersburg. He’s hoping his wife will divorce him so he can marry her.’
‘Forgive me for being so wrong, but I’m only a simple doctor.’
‘You’re anything but,’ she smiled at his pretence of humility. ‘I want to leave before Glyn and the others return as they’d only try to persuade me to stay and I really do have to go. Vlad is travelling to Taganrog tomorrow to fetch supplies and he’s agreed to take me with him.’
‘And from there?’
‘I’ll take a ship to London.’
‘You have sufficient money?’
She was touched by his concern. ‘More than enough. Peter left me well provided for. As for the hospital, Anna and Ruth may be young, but both are qualified to take my place. I’ve taught them everything I know.’
‘The girls are good but I’ll be sorry to see you go, Sarah. It was your generosity that secured me this position when I never thought I’d work as a doctor in Russia.’
‘We’ve worked well together, you and I, haven’t we?’
‘We have. The father of your child? Does he know …’
‘I appreciate your concern, Nathan, and I know you’re asking because you’re worried about me. But the matter is personal and no one’s business but mine.’
‘My apologies. I know from something Ruth said that you’ve tutored the girls in methods of birth control, yet you didn’t practise them yourself.’
‘I didn’t practise what I preached,’ she agreed. ‘But perhaps I wanted a baby more than I wanted my reputation, although it certainly wasn’t a conscious decision.’
‘I can understand any woman wanting a child after losing one. You intend to keep the baby?’
‘Oh, yes. I intend to keep it.’
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry, it’s that Vasya and I … we can’t have a child.’
‘Premature menopause?’
‘You recognised the symptoms?’
‘I’m sorry, Nathan.’
He shrugged. ‘We would like to adopt a baby.’
‘I hope you’re successful.’
‘Thank you. Good luck to you and your child, Sarah.’
‘I hope Vasya will forgive me for sneaking a kiss.’ She embraced him and kissed his cheek. ‘Goodbye, Nathan.’
‘You’ll tell the girls that you are going?’
‘If you don’t mind, I’d rather not, but I will write letters to everyone.’
‘When are you leaving?’
‘Vlad is picking me up at four o’clock in the morning. Goodbye and thank you for everything.’
‘I’ll look after our hospital for you, Matron. If you should wish to return …’
‘I won’t, Dr Kharber. Thank you, it’s been good knowing you.’ She opened the door and walked out of his office and the front door.
Hughesovka, Glyn Edwards’ house
September 1871
Sarah was dressed packed and ready to leave Glyn’s house at two thirty. Restless, impatient, she sat at her desk and flicked through the letters she’d written. To Praskovia, thanking her for her friendship and wishing her well with her baby and Glyn, and enclosing money to buy fabric to make baby clothes. Glyn for being a true brother. Anna, Ruth, Yulia, and all the girls she’d trained in the hospital for being conscientious and exemplary students. John Hughes for giving her and Peter the opportunity of a lifetime. Alexei and Ruth a letter congratulating them on their marriage and some roubles to buy a present.
The letter that had been the most difficult to write was in an unsealed envelope.
She opened and re-read it.
My dear, dear Richard,
I’m so sorry to leave you without saying goodbye but I know I wouldn’t be able to do so without shedding tears.
My family need me in England. I have deliberately timed my departure before your return from St Petersburg because I know you would try to dissuade me and I’m afraid I would be weak enough to listen to you and in so doing so only succeed in upsetting both of us.
I love you and will always remember you fondly but it would never work between us. I will keep in touch with Anna so there’s no need for you to write to me.
Thank you for showing me that there can be life – and love – after loss,
Your friend,
Sarah Edwards.
She replaced it in the envelope, sealed it, and placed it at the bottom of the pile.
Hughesovka
September 1871
The house was in darkness when Sarah stole outside. She carried her travelling bag. Vlad removed his boots to minimise the noise of his footsteps, went up to her room, and hauled out her trunk. She glanced across the road before climbing into the troika. Nathan was standing, holding a candle, at the window of his office. He smiled at her. She smiled back, waved, and sat in the troika.
A bitterly cold wind blew from the north, the precursor of winter. She was glad. It gave her an excuse to explain away the tears on her cheeks.
Chapter Six
Hughesovka, Glyn Edwards’ house
September 1871
Pyotr opened the door the moment he saw Catherine Ignatova’s carriage turn into the drive. Glyn was first out. He ran to Praskovia who was waiting for him in the porch, swung her from her feet, and hugged her.
Richard, Alexei, and Anna watched in astonishment.
He turned to them. ‘I’ll marry Praskovia the moment I’m free, but until then, she’ll be the mistress of this house in every way, just as she would if we were legally married. And,’ Glyn couldn’t help himself, his smile broadened, ‘we’re having a baby.’
Dumbfounded, Alexei and Richard remained stock-still, but Anna kissed Praskovia on her way into the house.
‘Congratulations, Mr Edwards, Praskovia.’
‘I’m so pleased for you, both of you,’ Richard followed her inside.
‘Wonderful news,’ Alexei kissed Praskovia’s cheek.
‘I have a meal ready in the dining room, soup and snacks, I thought you wouldn’t want something heavy just before bed.’
‘Perfect,’ Glyn couldn’t stop smiling or looking at Praskovia.
Richard looked around the hall. It was after ten but there was no sign of Sarah. Given the noise they were making he’d expected her to join them.
‘Is Sarah working late?’ he asked Praskovia when Glyn finally stopped talking long enough for him to edge a word in.
‘She left a week ago, Mr Richard …’
‘Richard.’ Glyn corrected.
‘Went? Where?’ Richard was mystified.
‘England. She left letters for everyone. In the one she wrote to me, she said she had to return to England for family reasons.’
‘But she was b
rought up in a workhouse. She has no family in England, or anywhere for that matter, besides me and my brother,’ Glyn said.
‘Where’s my letter?’ Richard questioned urgently.
‘In your room,’ Praskovia answered.
‘Richard!’ Anna called after him as he rushed up the stairs.
Praskovia went to the tray on the hall stand, sorted through the mail that had arrived for Glyn and handed him the one Sarah had written. ‘I put your letters in your rooms,’ she explained to Anna and Alexei.
Glyn opened and read his letter. ‘This reference Sarah makes to family doesn’t make sense. Apart from a few friends, my brother and his wife in Merthyr, and the people Sarah worked with in the hospital in London, she has no one in England or Wales.’
Richard rushed back down the stairs. He was still wearing his coat and hat. He picked up the travelling bag Pyotr had just carried into the hall.
‘We’ve only just got here. Where are you going at this time of night?’ Alexei asked.
‘To get the woman I love before she leaves the country.’
Glyn’s eyes rounded in shock.
‘You and Sarah … I mean Mrs Edwards,’ Alexei was only marginally less astounded than Glyn, but unlike Glyn he was capable of speech. ‘And I thought Ruth and I were clever in concealing how we felt about one another.’
‘I love Sarah and I will marry her if it’s the last thing I do,’ Richard emphasised.
‘Hopefully it won’t be,’ Alexei observed.
‘Can I borrow Agripin, Alexei?’
‘No. You’re not that good a rider. Besides, if you want to catch up with Sarah … how long ago did you say she left?’ Alexei questioned Praskovia.
‘A week. Vlad had to go to Taganrog to fetch supplies. She went with him, at four in the morning, or so Dr Kharber said.’
‘In the hospital’s troika?’ Alexei said thoughtfully.
‘Yes,’ Praskovia confirmed.
‘You need a carriage, Richard,’ Alexei said. ‘Pyotr, run to my grandmother’s. Tell her we need to borrow the six-horse carriage that’s just brought us here, but it needs to be harnessed with a fresh team. We also need Egor, he’s my grandmother’s most experienced driver,’ he assured Richard. ‘And his assistant Rurik if she can spare him.’
Pyotr left.
‘With two experienced drivers and frequent changes of horses, and you can trust Egor to know which inns and private houses to approach, you may catch up with Mrs Edwards within three or four days of her reaching Taganrog. Just hope no ship was ready to set sail when she arrived.’
‘Here, Richard, you’ll need money.’ Glyn recovered his senses enough to reach for his wallet. He opened it, took out all the large-denomination bills, and handed them over.
‘I have your blessing, sir?’ Richard asked.
‘You have my blessing to try.’
‘We wish you every success and happiness, Richard.’ Praskovia looked up at Glyn. ‘How could we do otherwise?’
Hughesovka,
September 1871
‘The only drawback will be the horses. Without frequent changes they’ll tire and slow you down,’ Alexei warned Richard as he saw him off. ‘Egor and Rurik will take it in turns to drive, I’ve told them that you won’t mind if the one who’s resting rides inside the carriage with you.’
‘Of course I won’t mind.’
‘Go get her, Richard. Hughesovka is getting to be a more interesting place every day.’
‘You sure you won’t come with me?’
‘I’d only be in the way when you find her. I hope you won’t have to go to England to do that.’
‘So do I.’ Richard meant it, because he knew that he wouldn’t have a clue where to look for her in London, let alone an entire country.
Taganrog
September 1871
Sarah, wrapped in the furs Catherine Ignatova had given her, left the consulate after lunch to take her afternoon walk in the public garden of Taganrog. An ice-laden Arctic wind was blowing through the town and there’d been no let up for a month, or so the consul had told her. Even worse than the drop in temperature, it had prevented any ships leaving port for two weeks.
The consul and his wife had been kind, putting their largest and most comfortable guest room at her disposal, and insisting she share their meals and evening entertainments, but as she’d made the decision to leave Russia she couldn’t wait to sail.
It didn’t help that she hadn’t formulated a plan as to what she’d do when she reached England, other than ‘rent a house’ until the baby was born. The life insurance Peter had taken out on their marriage would cover her and the baby’s living costs but after Glyn’s house she suspected she would find an existence without friends somewhat lonely.
She could hardly return to Merthyr in her condition, as Peter’s brother Edward and the friends they’d made in the town before they’d left for Russia would know the baby wasn’t Peter’s. And, as she’d discovered before Peter had entered her life, London could be a lonely place. It also wasn’t the healthiest place to bring up a child.
Thoughts whirled in her mind like the dead leaves at her feet as she strolled down an avenue of trees. She came to a seat. Tired, she sank down on the bench, grateful for the protection the trees offered from the weather.
She tried to banish images of the lonely life she suspected she and her child would lead in Britain with no uncles and aunts to visit. Would they make friends – good friends as she’d done in Hughesovka?
‘I warn you, no matter how far or fast you travel, I’ll track you down. We’re meant to be together.’
She looked up. Richard was in front of her, barely recognisable in a sable coat and hat that somehow made him appear older and sterner than his years.
She rubbed her eyes, as much to wipe away a tear as to make sure he wasn’t a mirage. ‘How did you find me?’
‘I went to the consulate. The doorman told me you often walked here after lunch.’
‘I left you a letter.’
‘I read it.’
‘You, me … it’s impossible Richard.’
‘Glyn and Praskovia will marry when he’s free and he’s fifteen years older than her.’
‘It’s different when the man is older.’
‘Why?’
‘Because that’s the way it is. I have to go back to England …’
‘For family reasons or so you said in your letter. Glyn told me you have no family other than Peter’s.’
‘I don’t.’
Richard sat beside her on the bench. ‘I spoke to the consul. There’s an Anglican Church and vicar in Taganrog. We could be married by special licence tomorrow because we’d qualify as travellers.’
‘You’re too young to know what you want from life …’
‘I’m not. So, you’re older than me. No couple are ever perfectly suited. Alexei never thought he’d be allowed to marry Ruth because of their religious differences until Mr Hughes built a town on the steppe. Mr Edwards and Praskovia are living together as man and wife although he has a wife living in Merthyr. And no one in Hughesovka is horrified.’
‘Hughesovka hasn’t a chapel minister or vicar yet.’
‘If they’re easily shocked they won’t last long in the town because Mr Hughes has made sure anything is possible in Hughesovka. Even us.’
It had been so easy to run from him when he’d been away. It wasn’t possible when he kissed her and held her close.
She revelled in the warmth of his lips on hers, the feel of his arms wrapped around her shoulders, the comfort he offered.
‘I have something for you.’ He reached into his pocket and pulled out the box that held the snake ring. He opened it and the diamond and sapphire set in the heads winked up at her in the cold afternoon light.
‘It’s beautiful, Richard.’
‘Do you mean that?’
‘Yes.’
‘You’re not lying …’
‘I promise you I am not lying now, nor will I
ever lie to you, but there’s a condition. If you ever tire of me …’
‘I never will.’
She took her hand from her fur muff and laid it across his mouth. It lay warm on his lips.
‘If you tire of me,’ she repeated, ‘you’ll tell me, and allow me to walk away from you with dignity so we can both remember the happy times.’
‘There’ll only be happy times for us from now on, Sarah. I won’t allow you to run from me again. That much I promise you.’
‘There’s something else you don’t know.’
‘What?’
She smiled. For once she would be able to surprise a man – and Richard was a man. The boy she’d seduced had grown up. ‘You won’t be the only person in my life or my family for much longer, Richard. There’ll soon be another.’
Epilogue
Owen Parry’s ironworker’s cottage, Broadway, Treforest, Pontypridd. Evening, 1956
My pillows are soft, the temptation to lay back on them too great. So much happened in 1871 and with the benefit of hindsight I can see that year was a turning point. The year the ironworks were finished, although not capable of production.
It was the year John and Glyn began to turn a profit from their respective mines. The year Alexei married his childhood sweetheart, and Sarah fled Hughesovka and I took her place for a few weeks, as Matron of the hospital at the untried age of fifteen.
I picked up the file of letters and flicked through them until I found the ones I wanted.
Boot Inn
High Street
Merthyr Tydfil
August 4th 1871
Dear Glyn,
I have sad news. My father breathed his last four days ago. He was laid to rest beside my mother this morning. He left everything he owned to me. I received a good offer for the Boot the day after he died and took it. So, there is nothing to keep me in Merthyr and that brings me to my next piece of news.
Morgan and Owen Parry have been nagging me for some time to allow them to go to Russia to join their brother and sister. Given their age I thought it best to accompany them. Edward hasn’t been the same since Judith died last month – he said he was going to write to you about his loss – if he hasn’t, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to be the one to tell you but thinking about it, it’s only right you should know. When Edward heard me and the boys making plans he decided to join us.
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