“One,” Anna counted.
“You’re a bitch!” Patricia shouted.
“That makes it eight immediately. Two. Three...”
Patricia panted, then turned and ran into her bedroom. This time she left the door open, pulled open her wardrobe, and threw the riding crop on the floor. “There.”
Anna had followed her. “Pick it up and hand it to me.”
Patricia stamped her foot. “You...”
“Where was I?” Anna said. “About five, I should think. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine...” Patricia picked up the crop. “Ten,” Anna said. “That makes nine strokes.”
*
“I hate her,” Patricia sobbed. “One day I am going to kill her. Ouch! Be careful.” She lay on her face across her bed, and Olga applied cream to the red weals on her buttocks.
“Can she do this?” Sophie asked.
“She has done it,” Olga pointed out. “I will speak with Father Sviatoslay. But as Prince Peter put her in charge...”
“I think it would be better to speak with him,” Sophie said. “I think we should telegraph Peter.”
Patricia rolled over, violently, grunted with pain, and rolled back again, rising on her elbows. “What good would that do? Peter hates us. And he has put her in charge of us. And don’t suppose you’re going to get away with anything, Sophie. She’s determined to marry you off as well.”
“I can’t! I won’t! She wouldn’t dare!”
“You tell her that, and you’ll have a sore ass.”
Sophie looked at Olga. “You must speak to her.”
“Me?”
“Well, you’re an old friend...”
“I was a friend of the Princess Dagmar,” Olga muttered.
“And you’re afraid that if you upset Aunt Anna she’ll throw you out,” Patricia snapped. “Then you’ll starve.”
“Oh...” Olga ran from the room.
“Now you’ve upset her,” Sophie pointed out.
“By telling her the truth? Anyway, she’s going to be the fifth wheel to a coach. She’s terrified.”
“Well, there’s Father Sviatoslav, or Captain Antonov...”
“Can you see either of them standing up to Aunt Anna?”
“Then what are we going to do?”
Patricia got up and stamped about; the pain was just beginning to fade.
“We are going to run away,” she decided.
*
Once thought of, the concept was enormously exciting. To remain on Bolugayen, and be married off to some old count or prince who would treat her like dirt, was quite impossible, apart from ending forever her dream of Duncan. And then there was the desire to be revenged on Aunt Anna. She knew her feelings towards the older woman were utterly ambivalent. She thought Anna Bolugayevska the most beautiful and exciting woman in the world.
But while she had no doubt at all that they could be lovers, she also knew they could never be friends. Anna sought to recreate the past she remembered from her girlhood, when there was no limit to the extent of the family’s power. Patricia certainly enjoyed the enormous wealth and surviving power of her family, but she was not quite as superficial as she was regarded by her half-brother, or indeed, had been regarded by her mother and father. She wanted to have as exciting and fulfilling a sex life as her famous aunt, but she also wanted to do something with her life, contribute to the welfare of all Russians, not just the aristocracy. In this she knew she had had an enormous empathy with her father.
And Patricia wanted to be her father’s daughter, in every way. Of course, progress as a woman, especially in a country like Russia, could only be achieved through the medium of a man. But he would have to be her man. Duncan would have been her man. He was her man; she was determined on it. It was just a matter of waiting for them both to achieve the independence of adulthood. But that could never happen if she were to be forced into marriage with someone else first.
*
Her plan was to reach St Petersburg, and Alexei. Alexei would surely shelter her, and Sophie too. Of course Alexei, like every other young officer, relied upon his allowance from his family — in his case, from Peter — to augment his meagre pay, and could therefore be subjected to intolerable pressure, but she did not think that Aunt Anna would risk scandal by chasing them to the capital and trying to reclaim them.
*
A week later the Russian winter had really settled in. The snow was crisp and firm, the sun had no heat, when it appeared at all, and each day seemed to grow colder as it advanced.
Anna rode into the village, as she did most days. If she wanted her people to be constantly reminded of her presence, she was genuinely interested in them, and their work, and their problems. She spent her usual hour with the tsemtsvo, listening to their accounts of how the winter feed was standing up — they still had a long time to go — and then visited the hospital to be taken round the wards by Dr Geller and have a word with each of the patients, the church for a chat with Father Sviatoslav, and the veterinarian. On all of these tours, Antonov accompanied her, as did Rurik, who rode beside her to and from the House. Rurik was a puzzled young man. He had anticipated a summons to her bed long before this. But for the moment Anna was content. Peter had sated her...and Peter remained always on her mind.
She was not concerned about the right or wrong of sharing a bed with her nephew. But she was aware of the consequences of such a scandal becoming known. She was here to re-establish herself in Russian society, and she did not intend to let her desires, however powerful, interfere with that ambition. At the same time, the realisation of the ambition depended upon Peter’s goodwill. And indeed, his love.
Anna smiled as she dismounted and threw her reins to the waiting Rurik. She went up the steps to the porch, where Gleb was bowing. “There is tremendous news, Your Excellency.”
“Tell me.” Anna went into the warmth of the house, gave her silk hat, gloves and riding crop to the waiting footmen.
“Mail arrived today, Your Excellency. And newspapers.”
Anna’s heart leapt. “Is there a letter from Prince Peter?”
“I believe so, Your Excellency. But the papers...” He spread the Gazette before her on an incidental table.
Anna read, with growing incredulity. “The date has been set for the Tsar’s wedding? Next week? But his father has only been dead a month. Is the Court not in mourning?”
“The marriage was arranged some time ago, Your Excellency,” Gleb explained. “Thus His Majesty has decided to proceed.”
“In November,” Anna muttered, and laid down the paper. But in St Petersburg. Peter would be there, and perhaps Alexei as well...and she would not.
But it made a nonsense of their mourning the dead tsar. This new tsar seemed a very odd young fellow. Anyway, she thought, they would drink him a toast. She was pleased to have the excuse. Although actually, things had gone off much better than she had hoped. Patricia had been somewhat sulky for some days after her beating, and Sophie had been clearly very anxious, as if expecting a flogging herself. But Patricia had recovered, and over the past few days had been almost pleasant. Now they could plan Christmas...once they had celebrated the Tsar’s act of bad taste. “Well, Gleb,” she said. “Request the countesses and Madame Olga to meet me in the small parlour. We will have champagne.”
Gleb gave a little gulp and then bowed, and Anna went into the parlour to sit before the fire and read Peter’s letter. It had been written almost the moment he had arrived in St Petersburg, and was, naturally, filled with the news that the Tsar was, despite all, proceeding with his wedding. The Tsaritsa was to be some German princess, apparently the granddaughter of Queen Victoria, who continued to rule in England.
The letter ended with a page of endearments. How I wish it could be you and I about to be married, my dearest Anna, he wrote. Thirty-nine years old, she thought, and behaving like a lovesick schoolboy. She could only hope he made no foolish confessions to any fellow officers, and suddenly knew a tremendous urge to be there. She loo
ked up, folding the letter and replacing it in its envelope, as Olga entered.
“Your Excellency.” Olga gave her habitual little curtsey.
“Olga! Have you heard the news?!”
“Gleb has told me, Your Excellency. It is a surprise, is it not?”
“That it should happen now, certainly. However, it shows our new tsar has a mind of his own. Now, where are those girls?”
Olga sat down, uninvited, as if her knees would no longer bear her weight. “They have gone riding, Your Excellency.”
Anna frowned at the woman’s behaviour. “Then should they not be back?” she asked. “It is nearly time for luncheon.”
Olga swallowed. “They should be back, yes, Your Excellency.”
Anna got up. “Speak. Tell me.”
Olga licked her lips. “It is not my place...”
“Yes, it is your place, Olga. Tell me.”
Olga stood up as well. “They have left, Your Excellency.”
“Left? To go where?”
“I do not know, Your Excellency. They did not tell me.”
Anna left the room and went up the stairs to Sophie’s apartment. She threw open the doors, gazed at the maids attempting to restore some order from the clothes which had been hurled carelessly to and fro. She went along the gallery to Patricia’s rooms, found the same evidence of hasty departure. Anna rang the bell, and went on to the gallery to be there when Gleb hurried up the stairs. “When did the countesses leave?” she demanded.
“They called for their horses as soon as you left this morning, Your Excellency. Just after ten.”
“Did you not see that they had bags with them?”
“They had a small valise each, Your Excellency. But they told me they were going in to Poltava to do some shopping and would be back in a couple of days.”
“Poltava! Shopping! Did you really believe that?” She stamped on to the porch. “Why did you not tell me this when I told you to summon them?” Gleb licked his lips. “I will deal with you later,” Anna told him. “Rurik! Send me Rurik.” The groom was there in a moment. “Saddle my horse. And yours. And I want four other grooms. Haste, now.”
Antonov appeared, looking alarmed. “Ah, Captain,” Anna said. “My nieces have decided to abscond. I intend to fetch them back. I have no doubt at all that they will take the train from Poltava to Kharkov, and hope to pick up the express to Moscow. I will deal with that end of things. But just in case I have made a mistake, I wish you to assemble a posse and sweep the estate; if by any chance they are attempting to ride across country in this weather they will probably suffer frostbite. Haste, now.”
Rurik reappeared. “All is ready, Your Excellency.”
“Thank you.” Anna allowed Collins to tie her silk hat under her chin.
“You have no clothes, ma’am.”
“I have no time to pack. Anyway, I will be back very shortly.”
*
It was late afternoon by the time Anna and Rurik reached Poltava, while the cold struck at their very bones. By then Anna knew she was on the right trail: the tracks were easy enough to follow. She sent one of her people back to tell Captain Antonov to abandon his search. She went to the town house, but she knew the girls would not have gone there; the train for Kharkov left at four, and there would not be another until the following morning. The telegraph office was just closing, but the clerk re-opened for the Countess Bolugayevska, and Anna sent a wire to the Chief of Police in Kharkov. Then she went back to the house and had a good night’s sleep. For the first time since her return she summoned Rurik to be with her: she was both excited and stimulated. This was open warfare, and she intended to treat it as such.
The morning train for Kharkov left at eight, and she and Rurik were on it; she left the others behind, as she did not suppose she would need them now, and she preferred to handle the eventual confrontation as privately as possible. They drove through the countryside covered in deep snow, Anna keeping Rurik in the first-class compartment with her. His eyes glowed at her, constantly. “May I ask, Your Excellency, what will happen if the countesses refuse to return?”
“I will not permit them to refuse,” Anna said.
Rurik considered this. Then he said, “You are the most compelling woman I have ever known, Your Excellency.”
It was Anna’s turn to consider. Then she said, “I shall take that as a compliment, Rurik. Although I might have preferred a different choice of words.”
“I love you, Your Excellency.”
Anna smiled. “Why, that is much better, thank you, Rurik.”
He leaned forward, to hold her hands. “I would like...”
Anna freed her hands, and laid her fingers on his lips. “You have what you would like, now, Rurik. It is not for you to look beyond the present.”
*
The Chief of Police clicked his heels and bent over Anna’s glove on Kharkov Station, while the onlookers gawked. “Colonel Peretz, at your service, Your Excellency. I heard no more than a rumour that you had returned to Russia.”
Anna smiled at him. “Where are my nieces?”
Peretz escorted her to his waiting carriage; Rurik followed at a respectful distance. “I had men waiting for them, when the train arrived, Countess. I am afraid there was quite a scene. But it was in the early morning, and there were not many people about. Yet it will be reported. Nowadays, there are reporters everywhere. I need something to say to the Governor.”
“Simply refer him to me,” Anna told him. “Where are the girls?”
“Well, Your Excellency, two countesses...I sent them to my own home, rather than the gaol. That would have been most unseemly.”
“A few hours in a police cell would have done them good,” Anna said, seating herself. Peretz sat beside her, and arranged the rug over her knees.
“They were shouting that they would have the wrath of Prince Bolugayevski on my head,” he murmured, diffidently.
Anna opened her reticule, took out one of the precious sheets of paper she had obtained from Peter. Across it she had already written: the Commissioner of Police, Kharkov: I request you to arrest and detain the Countesses Sophie and Patricia Bolugayevska upon their arrival in Kharkov, and hold them pending my arrival. Anna Bolugayevska. “Does that satisfy you, Colonel?”
“Well, of course, Your Excellency. This is entirely satisfactory.”
*
They were greeted at the Commissioner’s house by a very anxious Madame Peretz. “Oh, Your Excellency,” she gasped, curtseying to Anna. “I am so glad you have come. Your nieces are very angry. They have been shouting and screaming.”
“How disgraceful,” Anna said. “Tell me this, madame, have they been offensive to you?”
“Well...” Madame Peretz licked her lips and glanced at her husband, who gave a hasty nod. “They have called me offensive names, Your Excellency. And threatened that their brother will have me whipped.”
“Their half-brother, madame,” Anna said reassuringly. “And I act in his name.” Again Madame Peretz gave her husband an anxious glance. And again he nodded, this time also reassuringly. “Where are the countesses, madame?” Anna asked.
“I have put them in one of the spare rooms, Your Excellency.”
“Under guard, I hope?”
“There is a servant on the door, Your Excellency,” Peretz said.
“And in the yard?”
“The yard?”
Anna snorted. “Do you suppose that because they are countesses and wear skirts they cannot climb down a drainpipe?”
“But...in this cold? They would not try. They could slip and break their necks. The room is on the third floor.”
“Take me there, madame,” Anna commanded. “And you, Colonel, go into your garden beneath their windows and see what you find. Rurik, you will accompany me.”
Madame Peretz all but ran up the stairs, while her servants bowed in astonishment. Anna followed. On the third floor a maid was seated in a chair, but she stood up as her mistress approached. “Ar
e the countesses quiet, now?” Madame Peretz inquired.
“There has been no sound since they were fed, madame.”
“When was that?” Anna demanded.
“One hour ago, Your Excellency.”
“Open the door.” The door was unlocked and Anna threw it in; she was greeted by a blast of cold air, which but confirmed what she had expected — the window was open. She went to it and looked down. Colonel Peretz had just arrived, and was looking up. Anna could see the tracks in the snow even from the third floor window. “They have climbed over the wall,” she said. “But they cannot he far. You had better turn out your police, and scour all these back yards. I want those girls, and quickly.”
“I am terribly sorry, Your Excellency,” Madame Peretz said.
Anna shrugged. “You assumed, being countesses, they would also be ladies.”
“But...what are you going to do?”
“I am going to have a cup of tea, if you will offer me one.”
*
Sophie arrived within the hour, escorted by two policemen. She was bedraggled and shivering, her clothes torn and dishevelled. “We found her collapsed against a fence, Your Excellency,” the sergeant explained.
Anna had not risen when her niece was half dragged into the room. Now she turned to Madame Peretz. “I think what Countess Bolugayevska needs is a hot bath. Will you arrange it? And madame, I wish a servant with her at all times. Not,” she added, “that I imagine she is going to try to escape again. Oh, I think a glass of brandy would be in order.”
Sophie tried to lick her lips, but her face was still too frozen. “What are you going to do to me.”
Anna raised her eyebrows. “Are you so anxious to be punished? Go and have your bath, and make sure you have no frostbite.”
*
It was an hour later when Patricia was brought back. “The Countess was hiding at the railway station, Your Excellency,” Peretz explained. “I think she meant to spend the night there.” Anna looked at the girl. Patricia’s clothes were also torn, her hair was a tangled mess. And her wrists were bound. “She fought like a demon,” Peretz said.
“You are quite a sight,” Anna commented. “Well, another hot bath, madame, and another glass of brandy.” Servants scurried.
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