A Foreign Shore Page 7

  ‘An old age Peter never saw,’ he said soberly. ‘And you’re alone …’

  ‘I have my career and I wouldn’t have more if I returned to Britain. Here, I not only have my work but the gratification of training the girls. Giving them the means to live independently means a great deal to me.’

  ‘I suspect more to them. From what I saw when I first came here with Mr Hughes the only work open to women was domestic or in the fields. There won’t be many opportunities for women once the furnaces are built, other than a few positions in the offices and laboratories.’

  Sarah forced a smile. ‘So, will you accept that although happiness went with Peter and our child I’m content here?’

  ‘I will. We’re almost a family with Richard, Anna, and Alexei. A sort of proxy uncle and aunt.’ He reached for the brandy decanter. ‘Although they make me feel a hundred years old on occasions.’

  ‘I never thought of myself as a middle-aged aunt, but you’re quite right, Glyn. That’s exactly what I am.’

  Glyn wondered if he’d imagined the bitterness in Sarah’s voice. ‘Drink?’ he held up the decanter.

  ‘No, thank you. Not with a full ward to minister to in the morning. Sleep well.’

  Sarah undressed, climbed into bed, and read until she realised she hadn’t absorbed a word. She turned down the lamp, lay back on her pillows, and listened to the sound of horses hooves accompanied by conversations as men rode beneath her window towards Madam Koshka’s and the hotel.

  She turned over and was staring at the shadows that loomed above the stove when the French doors that led to the balcony opened and closed.

  She sat up.

  ‘It’s only me.’

  ‘Go back to your room,’ she ordered Richard.

  ‘We need to talk.’ He tripped over a chair.

  ‘Quiet!’ She fumbled for the matches next to the lamp and lit it. ‘Last night was a huge mistake.’

  ‘No it wasn’t. Please,’ he held up his hand. ‘If I crept in there beside you I guarantee in less than a minute there’d be no more arguing.’

  ‘Richard, can’t you see this isn’t as it should be.’ She was determined to be honest no matter how much it hurt her – and Richard. ‘I’m twice your age …’

  ‘If you were twice my age you’d be nearly forty.’

  ‘I’m thirty, and since Peter died unbearably lonely. I’m using you …’

  ‘Use away.’

  It’s not right. You’re young, your hormones are raging, and I’m …’

  He covered her mouth with his and untied his robe. His touch was more assured than it had been the night before. Afterwards he held her close as they lay together in her bed.

  Restlessness forgotten, Sarah closed her eyes and gripped Richard’s hand. Too exhausted and beset by guilt to sleep, she felt like an adulteress who’d betrayed both Peter and their love for one another. But guilt didn’t prevent her from taking comfort from the warmth of Richard’s presence in her bed.

  Experience had taught her that infatuation, unlike love, couldn’t last. And Richard was only infatuated with her; of that much she was certain. But even knowing what she shared with the boy would be fleeting, she still silently blessed him for being there.

  Hughesovka

  August 1871

  Sarah’s visit to Peter’s grave was brief, and she missed the hunting trip because the miner who’d had both his legs amputated succumbed to septicaemia. It spread to one of the other injured patients in the ward and despite Nathan’s efforts both died.

  The day after Nathan married Vasya and his bride moved into his house, a young boy who lived in one of the “pit” dormitories was brought to the hospital suffering from a high fever. When Nathan saw rose-coloured spots on the boy’s lower chest and abdomen, he diagnosed typhoid.

  Nathan, John, and Glyn immediately set about trying to improve sanitation, hygiene, and waste disposal in what the locals had christened the “hole houses” but it took over two months of work by both the company and hospital staff, during which wells were sunk and fresh cesspits dug, to contain the outbreak.

  Like Nathan, Sarah rarely managed more than four hours sleep a night while the epidemic raged, but they were hours she shared with Richard simply because he was in her room when she reached it. Too tired to argue, glad of his company, she gradually began to accept his presence in her bed and her life without protest.

  On Glyn’s birthday, Sarah left Yulia and Miriam instructions to fetch her if any of the typhoid patients’ conditions worsened in the night, and crossed the road. She bathed in the banya before changing into her mourning evening gown in honour of the occasion, and for the first time in two months joined the others for dinner, albeit late.

  John was at the table with Glyn, Richard, Anna, Alexei, Catherine, Sonya, Ruth, and, surprisingly, Alf. Their claret glasses were full, as were the vodka glasses alongside them. The men rose to their feet when she entered, and she realised from their heightened colour they’d been celebrating for some time.

  ‘I’ve had an unexpected birthday present.’ Glyn handed her an envelope.

  She took it from him and studied the crest. ‘A double-headed eagle. This can’t be from …’

  ‘The Tsar? Yes, it is.’ Richard couldn’t contain the momentous news a moment longer. ‘It’s the Romanov coat of arms. I’ve had one as well as Mr Edwards and Alf.’

  ‘Richard, Glyn, and Alf are to be given gold medals by the Tsar for saving the miners.’ John filled Sarah’s glass as one of the maids brought in a bowl of reheated soup for her.

  ‘We’ve all received invitations to a reception in the Winter Palace in St Petersburg,’ Richard continued.

  ‘When are you going?’

  ‘Tomorrow,’ John replied, ‘and Mrs Ignatova, Ruth, and Sonya are coming with us.’

  ‘Ruth needs wedding clothes,’ Catherine explained, ‘and as I’m chaperoning her and Sonya, I’d like to take Anna as well, with your permission, Sarah.’

  ‘Of course, Anna can go with you. It’ll be a marvellous opportunity for her to see more of the countryside as well as the city.’

  ‘Not to mention the Tsar and Tsarina,’ Alexei enthused.

  ‘If we go tomorrow we should be back in good time for Alexei and Ruth’s wedding,’ Glyn handed Sarah the bread basket.

  ‘When the Tsar extends an invitation it’s not done to keep him waiting, especially when the New Russia Company is dependent on him for his good will,’ John added.

  ‘How long will you be gone?’

  ‘No more than two, or three weeks,’ John declared. ‘We’ll go North by rail from Moscow to St Petersburg and we’ll take carriages to where the railway starts this side of Moscow.’

  ‘Come with us, Mrs Edwards?’ Richard pressed. ‘You’d have a wonderful time.’

  ‘I’m sure I would but I dare not leave the hospital at present with so many patients seriously ill.’

  ‘Are you sure the hospital can manage without me, Mrs Edwards?’ Anna asked.

  ‘We haven’t had a new case of typhoid fever for four days, Anna, and you’re not indispensable yet. Besides, you should go. It’s the chance of a lifetime to visit St Petersburg. Will you actually see the Tsar?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘According to the invitations. They all say “and party” which means those receiving medals can bring guests,’ John confirmed.

  ‘Take lots of photographs, Glyn, so you can show them to me when you return.’

  ‘I doubt I’ll be allowed to take one of the Tsar, Sarah, but I promise to take as many as I can of everything that’s worth seeing so you’ll know where to go when you visit the city.’

  ‘Mr Hughes has telegraphed the Hotel Angleterre and made reservations for us,’ Richard handed the maid his dirty plate. ‘Imagine me staying in a hotel. Do your remember us talking about it in the court in Merthyr, Anna?’

  ‘And you saying we’ll never find out what it feels like.’

  ‘But you won’t be staying in the hotel, Anna. The girls w
ill be staying with me in my town house,’ Catherine informed Sarah, ‘and we really would love to have you accompany us.’

  ‘Please, come with us, Mrs Edwards,’ Richard coaxed.

  ‘Please, Mrs Edwards,’ Ruth, Sonya, and Anna added their pleas to Richard’s.

  ‘I really can’t leave the hospital at the moment, but perhaps next time you go I’ll be able to travel with you.’

  Alexei raised his vodka glass. ‘To my brave friends, and the Tsar, who recognises their worth.’

  Sarah hadn’t eaten all day and the vodka went straight to her head. She was pleased for Glyn, Richard, and Alf, but the thought of a couple of weeks without Richard was suddenly and unexpectedly hard to bear. Until she remembered that shortly she’d have to learn to live without him for a lot longer than a few weeks.

  The party broke up when Catherine, Ruth, and Sonya left, escorted by John and Alf. As Glyn had invited everyone to a six-o’clock breakfast before they set off the following morning, Richard prepared for the journey before bed. He went to his room, packed all the clean clothes he could find, and checked the wallet he’d bought in the company shop when he’d last been paid. He still counted his wealth in pounds, shillings, and pence. He had over ten pounds in roubles but he had more in savings deposited in the company bank, although he sent a third of his wages to his brothers in Merthyr every month.

  He’d intended to buy a new winter coat for himself before the cold weather set in, and wondered if they’d be any cheaper in St Petersburg. He deposited his travelling bag next to the door, laid out his clothes for the morning, undressed, wrapped himself in a robe he’d taken from the bath house, and stole on to the balcony.

  As he’d hoped, Sarah had left her window open. He slipped inside.

  ‘Are you asleep?’ he whispered.

  ‘If I was, I’m not now.’ She folded back the bedclothes. He climbed in beside her.

  ‘I’m going to miss you. Will you miss me?’

  ‘I won’t miss being woken by you as soon as I’ve gone to sleep,’ she teased.

  ‘Sorry, but I always wait to make sure everyone else in the house is asleep or at least in their rooms.’ He wrapped his arm around her waist.

  ‘This medal is an honour for you. One that you, Alf and Glyn deserve,’ she murmured.

  ‘I wish …’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That my mother had known.’

  ‘If you believe in an afterlife, she does.’

  ‘Do you believe in an afterlife?’ he asked seriously.

  ‘I try not to think about it too often, but I’d like to believe that Peter and our baby are alive somewhere. I have days when they seem close. But I also have days when the idea of heaven and an afterlife seems impossible.’

  ‘If there’s no such thing, it gives us an excuse to make the most of the here and now.’

  ‘It does.’

  He reached out to her. He’d come a long way since they’d first made love. Now he was neither timid nor faltering. He’d learned exactly how to please her, and she’d always known how to please him.

  Glyn checked the dining and drawing rooms; turned off the lamps to save Pyotr the trouble, and went to his room. As usual, the brandy decanter and a glass were on the table next to his chair and a plate of tiny delicate sandwiches next to it. But there was no sign of Praskovia. He went to the door and checked it was open. It was.

  Normally he was in his room if not in bed by ten thirty. It was after eleven. He didn’t want to disturb Praskovia if she was sleeping but as she’d overheard the conversation at the dinner table he wanted to talk to her.

  The door in the passage was locked so he risked tapping her bedroom door. When there was no answer he tried it. It opened. Praskovia was sitting in front of the mirror brushing her hair. Her eyes were heavy and there were tear stains on her cheeks.

  He moved behind her chair and looked at her face in the mirror. ‘I missed you.’

  ‘You’re going away.’

  ‘Only for a few weeks. Is something the matter?’

  Tears fell from her eyes but she made no sound.

  He sat on the bed opposite her. ‘Whatever’s wrong?’

  ‘I’m having a baby.’

  ‘A baby! You’re sure?’

  ‘I saw Sarah a few weeks ago, she confirmed it. I didn’t tell her that you were the father …’

  ‘A baby,’ Glyn repeated.

  He’d wondered if there was something wrong not only with him, but his family. Edward’s wife Judith had never become pregnant. Sarah had lost Peter’s baby which was understandable in the circumstances, but even his brother Tom had died without fathering a child, although Mary had gone on to have a large family with her second husband.

  ‘I’m sorry. If you want me to go …’

  ‘Go – what on earth are you talking about? Where would you go with my child? This is wonderful news, Praskovia.’

  ‘You want the child?’

  ‘I want you and our child.’ He took the hairbrush from her hand and lifted her on to his lap. ‘I’m going to be a father. This calls for some changes. From now on you must behave like the mistress of this house, not the housekeeper. That means living with me, eating with me – you’ll have to move into my room, we must be a family, Praskovia. A real family …I have so much to do, so much to think about. I must write to my wife and ask her for a divorce …’

  ‘You’re pleased?’ She couldn’t believe what he was saying.

  ‘Pleased … Praskovia, you’ve given me so much, and now this. Pleased is not a big enough word. I’m delighted, ecstatic … I’m …’

  ‘My mother said that you’d throw me, her, and Pyotr out of the house.’

  ‘That’s insane. Come into my room. It’s warmer there, and we have to talk. I can’t possibly go to St Petersburg now.’

  ‘You have to. The Tsar wants to see you so you must go.’

  ‘It’s more important that I make provision for you and our child should anything happen to me.’

  ‘Please don’t talk like that. You mean everything to me, Glyn. I never thought a man would be so kind to me.’

  ‘Kind … this is just the beginning.’

  ‘I have to pack for you. You will go St Petersburg, won’t you?’

  ‘If I must,’ he kissed her, ‘but it will be a very long two weeks without you.’

  Praskovia packed while Glyn wrote out a new will. He arranged for a transfer from his private bank account to pay off the mortgage on the house and the residue to be paid to Praskovia in the event of his death.

  He placed all the relevant papers in an envelope so the company lawyer could look them over in the morning. He went to bed with Praskovia. She fell asleep after they made love but unable to close his eyes, his mind in turmoil with thoughts whirling around his head he went to his desk and wrote one last document. A letter to his wife Betty.

  Hughesovka, August 1871

  Dear Betty,

  I am sorry to have to write this to you instead of telling you in person, but given the distance between us for some years, and I don’t mean in miles, it can’t be entirely unexpected.

  I have met a girl in Hughesovka. I love her and she is going to have my child.

  Please forgive me and please give me a divorce. I will continue to pay you the annuity I settled on you when we married. In addition, you will inherit the proceeds of my insurance policy on my death which should ensure that you will live in comfort for the rest of your days.

  I regret that I have not been a better husband, Betty. Thank you for the good times. If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I would be grateful.

  Glyn Edwards.

  Chapter Five

  Glyn Edwards’ house, Hughesovka

  August 1871

  Richard left Sarah’s bed, lit the lamp, and checked the clock. The hands pointed to five. He palmed Sarah’s ring box from the bedside table on his way to the washstand. After checking she was still asleep, he opened it. He’d never seen Sarah remove her
wedding ring, but the box held a ring she wore in the evenings and on Sundays when she wasn’t working. A simple gold band set with seed pearls arranged in a flower pattern. She’d told him Peter had given it to her when she’d agreed to marry him.

  He took the ring from the box and slipped it over the little finger on his left hand. He couldn’t push it further than the top of his knuckle.

  ‘Time you were gone. Everyone will be up in a few minutes if they’re not already.’

  Startled he turned to the bed. Sarah’s eyes were open.

  ‘I was just about to leave.’ Hoping she hadn’t seen him with the ring, he surreptitiously returned it to the box and replaced the lid while ostentatiously pouring water into the china bowl and splashing his face.

  ‘Go! You’ve a reception in a palace to attend, a Tsar and royalty to meet, and a hotel to visit. The way you were talking yesterday I’m not sure what you’re looking forward to most. The hotel perhaps?’ she teased.

  ‘What I’m really looking forward to is returning to you.’ He dried his hands and face, and under cover of returning the towel to its hook, pushed the ring box into a corner at the back of the wash stand.

  ‘In order to return you have to leave.’

  He knotted the belt on his robe and went to her. ‘A kiss to keep me going for the next few weeks,’ he begged. He leaned over the bed and kissed her on the lips, a loving kiss that ended abruptly when Alexei thundered down the stairs singing the Russian national anthem at the top of his voice.

  She felt tears pricking at the back of her eyes. ‘Have a wonderful time.’

  ‘Not without you, I won’t. Love you.’ He opened the door to the balcony and slipped out.

  Sarah was waylaid by Glyn outside the dining room. He led her into the drawing room and closed the door.

  ‘Praskovia told me you know she’s pregnant.’

  ‘I also told her I wouldn’t tell anyone her secret until it became obvious,’ she hedged.

  ‘The child is mine.’

  Speechless, she stared at him.