A Cossack Spring Read online

  ‘In this uniform? But then I’ve seen you flirt with my grandmother.’

  ‘See you at dinner, Anna. I’ve moved into Mr Edwards’ house.’

  ‘I heard.’ Anna was still wary of every man except Richard but she gave Alexei a cautious smile. ‘Thank you for the blinys.’

  ‘Now I’m living across the road, I’ll bring more when Yelena’s made them.’

  ‘I love your generosity with other people’s efforts.’ Ruth walked him to the door. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one could overhear. ‘I’ll find an excuse to visit you in Mr Edwards’ house.’

  ‘Not before I’ve talked to Nathan about us.’

  ‘I can always visit Anna.’

  They were still alone, but he wouldn’t risk more than kissing his forefinger and placing it on her lips.

  Hospital, Hughesovka

  January 1871

  ‘No new scarlet fever cases in the shtetl or Alexandrovka for two days. I wish I knew why some people become infected in a family and others don’t.’ Nathan entered the hospital office where Sarah was organising the stationery cupboards.

  ‘The eternal question of the physician – why. Could it be the disease was swiftly contained because of your insistence on disinfecting all the linen that had come into contact with the victims?’ Sarah filled a drawer with envelopes.

  ‘Thank you, I’m learning to appreciate praise.’ He sat on the visitor’s chair. ‘I’ve noticed the disease spread more among Cossack families who share a single bed.’

  ‘Perhaps you should write a paper on hygiene and the use of disinfectant in treating scarlet fever.’

  ‘I’d need to do more research, and frankly I’d rather I didn’t have the opportunity to accumulate it.’

  ‘You didn’t have to come in here today,’ Sarah closed the drawer on a cabinet. ‘What needs to done before we accept patients is being done.’

  ‘I know you have everything under control but I wanted to thank you. Mr Hughes wouldn’t have offered me the directorship of the hospital if you hadn’t recommended me.’

  ‘You’ve taken it?’

  ‘I have.’

  ‘I’m glad for you and the hospital. We need a qualified doctor. Not to decry your capability but there isn’t another for a hundred miles, and doctors shouldn’t work as builders. It ruins the hands for surgery.’

  ‘It can’t be easy for you to see me take you husband’s place.’

  ‘No one could possibly take Peter’s place.’ She softened her remark by adding, ‘you’re very different men, with very different approaches to medicine.’

  ‘Not too different, I trust.’

  ‘I didn’t mean the way you treat your patients but your training. British doctors are encouraged to be arrogant, especially towards nurses. Peter was different with me because I was his wife. I don’t know of any other British doctor who would ask a nurse’s opinion on patients’ treatment.’

  ‘My first job in Paris was in the mortuary. From there I graduated to cleaning wards. It took me two years to earn enough money to pay the fees for my first year in medical school.’

  ‘That couldn’t have been easy.’

  ‘I survived and qualified. The experience gave me valuable insight into what it is to be the lowest of the low in the medical hierarchy.’

  ‘Perhaps it’s something all trainee doctors should go through as part of their training.’

  ‘Unless they’re desperately short of money you’d never persuade them to agree.’

  ‘You look like you’d welcome a cup of tea.’

  ‘I would, it’s cold out there. I’ll ask the girls to make us one.’

  ‘They’re busy, I’ll do it.’ Sarah went into the kitchen, filled the kettle, and set it on the stove to boil. She looked at the biscuits Praskovia had sent over, laid a few on a plate for Nathan, and put cups and saucers on a tray. She felt something in her pocket. It was the package Glyn had given her that morning that she’d been reluctant to open because of his advice.

  ‘Open that when you’re alone.’

  She untied the ribbon and unfolded the brown paper wrapping.

  It was a silver photograph frame, the kind that folded over like a book. It held two photographs.

  One she recalled Glyn taking in the garden of her and Peter’s rented house in Merthyr. They were standing side by side in the kitchen doorway, smiling directly at the camera. The second had been snapped on the boat.

  Unaware of Glyn’s camera, she and Peter were leaning on the ship’s rail. Her husband was smiling down at her, love etched in his eyes. In that instant, the image of Peter’s corpse that she’d carried since she’d visited the cemetery faded. The photograph blurred, as emotions came flooding back. The tears she’d held in check for so long finally fell.

  She kissed the damp glass and whispered, ‘Thank you, Glyn, for giving him back to me.’

  Chapter Three

  Hotel Hughesovka

  March 1871

  A closed sleigh, blinds drawn, pulled up at the side door of the Hotel Hughesovka. Given the unsullied paintwork, it was obvious it hadn’t travelled far. Catherine’s butler, Boris, left the hallway and opened the door before the driver had time to climb from his seat. He helped a heavily veiled lady across the icy path into the building.

  ‘Her ladyship and the lawyer are in a private room on the first floor, Madam. There’s no one else. Your meeting will be private as you requested.’

  The lady inclined her head and mounted the stairs. Boris followed. A liveried valet stood aside to allow them to pass. He stared at the woman but she was so shrouded in black silk and robed in furs it was impossible to make out her features.

  Boris knocked and opened a door. She entered the room. Boris closed the door behind her and stationed himself in front of it.

  ‘Someone important?’ the valet fished.

  ‘Not as important as your master, Mr Levsky,’ Boris answered. Everyone in Hughesovka knew Levsky had rented the Beletsky Manor so he could be on hand to compile and forward unfavourable reports to the anti-progress faction in Moscow opposed to John Hughes and Tsar Alexander II’s plans to industrialise Russia.

  The valet took the hint and continued his journey down the stairs.

  Private room, Hotel Hughesovka

  March 1871

  Catherine and Dmitri rose when their guest entered. Dmitri approached the lady and divested her of her furs. Catherine embraced her.

  ‘It’s good of you to see me,’ the visitor lifted her veil.

  ‘It’s wonderful to meet again after so many years. I only wish you’d come to the house.’

  ‘It wouldn’t have been proper.’

  ‘No woman my age needs to be concerned with “proper”. Please, take a seat.’ Catherine indicated a chair. ‘We’ve ordered wine, tea, coffee, cake and savoury canapés.’

  ‘Coffee would be lovely, thank you, Mrs Ignatova.’

  ‘You used to call me Catherine. Dmitri, this is Madam …’

  Koshka interrupted Catherine. ‘Koshka.’

  Dmitri’s colour heightened ‘We’re acquainted.’

  ‘Then we’re all friends.’ Catherine poured three coffees from the hotel’s silver pot. ‘Please, help yourself to food. As you asked for this meeting, S …’ Catherine almost used the name Koshka had been christened. ‘Madam Koshka, please begin.’

  ‘I wish to lodge my will with your lawyer and set up an account for Sonya …’

  ‘Tsetovna,’ Catherine supplied. ‘Although illegitimate, my brother formerly adopted her as his heir. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have anything other than good wishes to leave her.’

  ‘At present,’ Koshka agreed, ‘and possibly never, which is why I want to make provision for Sonya.’ She pushed a large envelope towards Dmitri. ‘I’d be grateful if you would look over these papers, Mr Dmitri, and action them.’

  ‘It would be my pleasure, Madam Koshka. Do you mind if I read them now, ladies? Then we can discuss any alterations that may be needed before we leave?’

  ‘Good idea, Dmitri.’ Catherine handed him his coffee.

  Dmitri carried the cup and envelope over to a desk.

  Catherine picked up a tray and plate and offered both to Koshka. ‘The smoked salmon canapés are delicious. I’ve already eaten three.’

  ‘How can I refuse when you put it that way?’ Koshka set one on the plate. ‘I’ve seen Sonya.’

  ‘And spoken to her?’

  ‘Of course not. She’s very beautiful.’

  ‘You don’t have to look at her from a distance. When I answered your letter I told you that you’re welcome to call on me and Sonya anytime convenient to you.’

  ‘As I replied, that would leave you and Sonya open to gossip. Aristocratic ladies do not allow brothel-keeping madams into their homes, nor do they visit them.’

  ‘You are Sonya’s mother. She has a right to know you.’

  ‘I hope she never does nor finds out what I have become.’

  Catherine spooned cream into her coffee. ‘I’ve always admired and envied you.’

  ‘You – envied me!’

  ‘You had the courage to leave a brutal husband who made your life unbearable to live openly with my brother.’

  ‘Which, given Sergei’s fecklessness was not the most sensible move, but he made me laugh and I was in love.’

  ‘Laughter and love excuses everything. When my brother ran through his inheritance and became a hopeless drunk, you attracted a more sensible patron.’

  ‘Which I wouldn’t have been free to do if you hadn’t taken in my daughter.’

  ‘My husband had just died. I welcomed the companionship.’

  ‘Your son-in-law was opposed to your benevolence.’

  ‘My son-in-law is an ass. Please don’
t spoil a pleasant morning by mentioning his name. You said you’ve seen Sonya?’

  ‘Walking in and out of the hospital. She’s very beautiful, a golden girl, as you were when you were young – and Olga.’

  ‘And charismatic. Sonya’s inherited Sergei’s talent for making and keeping friends. People adore her.’

  ‘Does she intend to become a nurse?’

  ‘No. She’s helping in the hospital office. Mr Hughes has offered her a position in either the Russian or English schools when they’re built, possibly as a music teacher.’

  ‘You spared no expense in her education.’

  ‘Given Sonya’s talent and diligence, tutors were queuing at my gate.’

  ‘I’d forgotten your generosity of spirit, Catherine. That last time we met in St Petersburg you knew what my salon was, yet you never made me feel less than you.’

  ‘You’re a great deal more. A woman who’s made her own living and way in the world. What have I done? I was kept as a pet by my father who believed no female should study anything beyond embroidery and the supervision of servants. After my marriage, which I can take no credit for, as it was arranged by my father and father-in-law, I became my husband’s pet. His ideas were even more archaic than my father’s. His only ambition for Olga was that she contract a good marriage. Not marriage to a good man. That I could have understood, but marriage to an old and aristocratic name, even if the bearer was a dunderhead.’

  ‘I was devastated to hear of your daughter and granddaughters’ deaths.’

  ‘God sends us all crosses to bear.’ The loss of Olga and her granddaughters was too raw for Catherine to dwell on.

  ‘Madam Koshka.’ Dmitri joined them. ‘Who drew up these documents for you?’

  ‘A lawyer in Moscow. Is there a problem with them?’

  ‘No, provided you stand by the intentions you’ve outlined. You want to open an account in Sonya Tsetovna’s name?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘An account in which you intend to deposit two million roubles?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Two million roubles …’ Catherine was stunned.

  ‘You wish Sonya Tsetovna to be aware how much money there is in this account, although she is only seventeen years of age?’

  ‘I do, but I also stipulated the size of the annuity she is to receive.’

  ‘Which is extremely generous, possibly overly so.’

  ‘She’s been brought up by Madam Ignatova who values money. Sonya will have to live within her income which is less than the annual interest accrued from the deposits in her bank account. Hopefully, they will ensure she never becomes destitute like her father. I know annuities can be sold. I trust Sonya will never have cause to. Also, I’ve made certain she can only access the funds outside of her annuity with the consent of her trustees, and even then only for a major purchase such as a house or estate.’

  ‘I still counsel caution, Madam Koshka. Two million roubles is an enormous sum to give a young girl with no experience of the world.’

  ‘I don’t want Sonya to feel she has to take a position she doesn’t want, or marry someone she doesn’t love in order to survive in this world.’

  ‘You mention trustees but you’ve only appointed one. A person of high standing and impeccable credentials.’

  ‘An old friend I trust implicitly. He suggested there should be at least three. I was hoping I could impose on Madam Ignatova as she is Sonya’s legal guardian.’

  ‘I’d be happy to,’ Catherine agreed.

  ‘The third?’

  ‘Would you consider the position, Mr Dmitri?’

  ‘My firm would be honoured to take the responsibility, Madam Koshka. To move on to your will. On your death Sonya will inherit your entire estate apart from the house you’ve built in Hughesovka which is to be left jointly between whatever staff are employed there by you at the time of your death?’

  ‘That is correct.’

  ‘May I suggest you keep an up-to-date list of staff, and send any changes to my office? The wording says “present members of staff”. That phrase could lead to arguments as to who exactly was working for you at the time of your death.’

  ‘Excellent point Mr Dmitri, I will do as you ask.’

  ‘You want Sonya Tsetovna’s annuity to be paid from today?’

  ‘Yes and I want Sonya to be informed it is a family inheritance. If she questions it, she’s to be told it’s from her father.’

  ‘She has a right to know her mother,’ Catherine pleaded.

  ‘Please, Catherine, respect my wishes in this matter.’

  Catherine reached for Koshka’s hand. ‘When do you want me to tell her that she is an heiress?’

  ‘As soon as possible. Tell her … no, there’s no need. You’ll warn her to be sensible with her good fortune.’

  ‘I promise.’ Catherine rose as Koshka left her seat.

  ‘Thank you, both of you.’ Koshka lowered her veil.

  ‘I’ll see you again soon? If not in my house then here?’

  ‘That wouldn’t be proper, Catherine.’

  ‘Not even if I had important news of Sonya and needed your advice?’

  ‘What advice could a woman in my profession give a wealthy independent, young woman like Sonya Tsetovna? Thank you for the refreshments, Catherine, and for your expertise and kindness Mr Dmitri.’ She stood while he draped her furs around her shoulders then tapped the door.

  Boris opened it. Koshka turned briefly, but her veil obscured her features. A few seconds later she was gone.

  Glyn Edwards’ house, Hughesovka

  March 1871

  ‘Richard, stop complaining about the cold. If you’re shivering run up and down the stairs until you’re warm. No one likes what Mr Mahoney calls a “misery guts”.’ Freshly bathed, dressed in high-collared woollen Russian shirts with shoulder fastenings, black trousers, and leather boots, Alexei and Richard entered the dining room where they joined Glyn, Sarah, and Anna at the table.

  Anna, who tried to be of use whenever she could, took Alexei and Richard’s soup bowls and ladled out helpings of mushroom borsch with prunes.

  ‘I’m not a misery guts, Alexei,’ Richard countered, ‘I’m exhausted. Fourteen hours on the freezing steppe is enough to drain anyone’s energy.’

  ‘I bet you rode in a sleigh for most of that time.’ Anna passed Alexei the bread. ‘Try running up and down the length of the hospital all day, caring for irritable patients and soothing their hysterical relatives.’

  ‘You’re getting cheeky, sis.’

  ‘Not cheeky, confident,’ Sarah corrected. ‘I couldn’t manage without her.’

  ‘Your sister has a point, Richard,’ Alexei interposed. ‘The work we did today was hardly back-breaking. Mapping out mine locations, measuring distances for new roads, and looking for sites to stockpile mining waste.’

  ‘It may not have been backbreaking but the sleigh was open.’

  ‘So you continue to be a misery.’ Alexei broke off a chunk of bread and crumbled it on top of his soup, ‘Wrapped up in a sleigh is better than trudging over the steppe.’

  ‘We might have been warm if we’d trudged.’

  ‘In that case, you can run behind the sleigh tomorrow while I ride,’ Alexei teased.

  Praskovia entered with a maid. She set an enormous iron casserole dish in the centre of the table while the maid waited to clear away the soup bowls.

  Alexei sniffed. ‘Georgian Chanakhi?’

  ‘I don’t know how you do it, sir, but you’re right,’ Praskovia replied.

  ‘Call me sir again, Praskovia, and I’ll start calling you Madam.’

  Praskovia lifted the lid on the dish a second maid brought in. ‘Potato cakes with mushrooms and vegetable golubtsy. If you need anything else …’

  ‘We’ll ring the bell,’ Glyn interrupted.

  Surprised at his terseness, Sarah turned to him.

  He gave her an apologetic look. ‘As Alexei said, it’s been a long day and I still have work to do.’

  ‘You’re driving yourself too hard, Glyn. You need to rest until you recover your strength,’ Sarah warned. ‘If you don’t, you could find yourself back in bed.’

  ‘The riggers have begun drilling in two new spots, and the miners are tunnelling three new seams in the old mines.’ Alexei finished his soup and handed his bowl to the maid. ‘What more can you do tonight that can’t wait until morning, Mr Edwards?’

  ‘List the possible sites for new pits in order of viability.’ Glyn frowned. ‘What are you doing here? Isn’t this your night for eating at your grandmother’s?’