The Russians Collection

by Michael Phillips

  By the end of the day Viktor’s headache had not subsided. He went home, spoke to no one, and immediately closeted himself in his study.

  What irked him most about his conversation with Baklanov was that, though he tried, he could not deny the validity of his friend’s words. Even if Basil was nothing more than a harmless eccentric, it could still be damaging to Viktor if key officials deemed the young man dangerous. Men had been arrested and exiled on less evidence than that stacked against Dr. Anickin’s son. Should such a thing occur, it would prove embarrassing, at best, to Viktor.

  He did not like to capitulate to this wild reactionism that dominated the court lately. But he realized also that now, more than ever, his voice of reason was desperately needed in the Winter Palace. There must be a way to subtly distance himself from the Anickins for a time without insulting the good doctor.

  Viktor usually traveled with his family to their estate on the Crimean Sea during the oppressive St. Petersburg summer. But he had already decided not to leave the city himself.

  There was nothing to prevent him from sending Natalia and Katrina away. Natalia had become irritable when he told her they would not be going; she would readily leave, even without him. And Katrina’s absence for a few months should take care of the Anickin problem—at least for the time being.

  19

  Days passed, then a week . . . then two. Viktor was too busy with pressing governmental matters to give attention either to his wife and daughter’s trip to the south, or to his daughter’s steadily deepening involvement with Basil Anickin. Tension over the situation mounted, though it remained hidden, building toward an explosive release.

  One evening in late June the doctor’s son paid a visit, as he now did most evenings. The day had been a difficult one for the prince, and coming home to find Basil once more on the premises irritated him. He remained rudely silent all evening, debating within himself how to get rid of the fellow for good without making Katrina so mad she would do something foolish. After a tense dinner, he excused himself and made his exit without a word to their guest. Basil was offended, but said nothing. Princess Natalia remained dutifully with the young people for the rest of the evening.

  The two were alone only when Katrina walked Basil out to his coach. That brief interlude, however, and the words of love they exchanged proved sufficient to light the fuse for a volatile confrontation. When Katrina came up to her room for the night, she told Anna that she had consented to become Basil’s wife, and planned to tell her parents in the morning.

  If Katrina slept well in the contentment of her romantic bliss, Anna did not.

  She had never believed her mistress would go so far with this infatuation; she had always thought Katrina strong and level-minded enough to bounce back from the disappointment of Dmitri’s engagement. That Katrina truly might love Basil did not occur to Anna. She knew the princess better in some ways than Katrina knew herself. Anna did not understand Katrina’s attraction to Basil any more than she understood her interest in Dmitri. But she had sensed from the beginning that the obsession with Count Remizov was deeper and more real than this sudden new fancy with Basil Anickin.

  Anna’s sleeplessness, however, came mostly from not knowing how to speak her mind to Katrina. They were friends, although the word was rarely used to describe the nature of their relationship. Stimulated at first by their studies, they had come to be able to freely explore their feelings and opinions on many subjects with each other. Katrina did most of the talking, simply by virtue of her nature, telling Anna things she had never revealed to another soul.

  Anna returned this trust her mistress placed in her with sharing of her own, although her expressions were more guarded. She was still, first and foremost, a servant. And Katrina could as easily slip back into the role of mistress.

  “It is a dangerous fence you walk, Anna,” Nina Chomsky, Princess Natalia’s maid, had commented to her more than once, “trying to be both friend and servant to someone so high-strung and flighty as Princess Katrina. It can only bring you grief in the end.”

  Anna puzzled all night over what to do, and whether she should say anything to her mistress. She recalled her father saying to her, “My dear Anna, do not forget that a friend who is not willing to risk his very friendship for a friend is perhaps not such a good friend as he thinks he is.” Anna turned old Yevno’s words over in her mind, and as the first rays of the bright June sun began to penetrate her bedroom window, she finally came to a resolution.

  Her friendship and love for Katrina must take precedence over her position as a servant. If she was a true friend, as she was sure her father would have said, she must take the risk of sacrificing even the friendship itself for the sake of honesty, and the higher good of Katrina’s future. Perhaps she had learned enough of the art of tact and subtlety to attempt speaking the truth without risk. But even if she could not, she must speak openly.

  Anna dressed and completed several of her duties before Katrina awoke. She was in the sitting room mending petticoats when she heard a sleepy yawn from the princess’s bedroom. Her heart immediately began to pound with anxiety. No matter what, she had to talk with Katrina before she approached her parents with the news of the engagement. The princess might not pay any attention to her words. But just in case she did, it would be better for her to change her mind before upsetting her parents.

  Anna laid down the mending and went to the bedroom door and knocked softly. A sleepy “Come in” followed. Anna obeyed.

  “Good morning, Anna,” said Katrina, stretching lazily.

  “Good morning, Princess. I hope you slept well.”

  “Like a baby!”

  Anna could not help noting the redness of Katrina’s eyes and a lethargy to her movements that belied her affirmation.

  Anna walked from window to window pulling back the drapes. She wondered if Katrina’s sleepless night had the same cause as her own. It gave her some hope as she mustered the courage to speak.

  Katrina spoke first, however. “Isn’t it a glorious morning! I think I shall wear a light, bright summer dress. It will be very warm by lunch time.”

  “As you wish, Princess.”

  “Get out my yellow cotton dress—the one with the white eyelet lace. My white linen shawl will go nicely with it, if by some chance the wind comes up and it becomes chilly.”

  “Yes, Princess.”

  Anna found the dress in the wardrobe, gathered up a petticoat and Katrina’s other things and laid them neatly on the bench at the foot of the bed. She worked slowly, methodically, realizing she was stalling, and realizing also that it was no use. Finally she took a breath and turned toward Katrina, who had crawled out of bed and was bending over the basin splashing water on her face.

  “Princess Katrina,” said Anna, “may I speak to you about something?”

  “Of course.”

  “Something personal?”

  “Yes, Anna . . . what is it?”

  But before Anna could answer Katrina added, “Oh, would you first fetch me a towel?”

  Anna did so, then began again. Every word left her mouth hesitantly and she halted and stumbled along.

  “I have given this a great deal of thought, Princess,” she said, “so I hope you will not think me speaking just idle chatter.”

  “You never chatter, Anna. Now do go on with it. I’m rather in a hurry this morning because I want to speak with my parents as soon as possible.”

  “It is just that I want to talk to you about . . . ,” Anna went on. “You see, I have been wondering—it may not be my place to say this, but I feel I must—I wonder if perhaps you ought to give these marriage plans more consideration.”

  “That is a rather presumptuous thing for you to say, is it not, Anna?” Katrina’s tone was suddenly slightly cooler than before.

  “It is only that I find myself remembering how not so very long ago you told me that you loved Count Remizov, and that your feelings went deeper than mere infatuation.”

  “You
of all people should be glad I have given up on Dmitri,” said Katrina. “I always had the idea you thought me something of a fool for my silly fixation on him.”

  Anna winced inwardly, but did not reply immediately.

  “Well, Dmitri is a lost cause, and it is a sign of my real maturity that I can finally admit it,” Katrina went on.

  “Is it possible that you can fall in love with another so quickly after drawing such a conclusion?” Any other servant would have had her ears boxed for such a remark. Even Anna trembled a bit as she uttered the words. However, such was her valued and trusted place in Katrina’s life that the princess only recoiled slightly at the pointed question.

  “It only shows how shallow my feelings for Dmitri were in the first place. And from that experience, perhaps now I know something about love that I did not know before.”

  “Then you truly love Basil Anickin?” asked Anna.

  “That is the silliest question I have ever heard! I’m going to marry him, aren’t I?”

  Anna did not miss the fact that Katrina did not give a direct answer to her question.

  “I would have hoped, Anna,” Katrina went on, the previous coolness in her tone heating up considerably, “that at least you would be happy for me instead of subjecting me to this inquisition.”

  The words stung Anna’s heart. She wanted more than anything for Katrina to be happy. But she could not shake the nagging conviction that the princess would never be happy if she married Basil.

  “I am sorry, Princess,” said Anna in true distress. “I want this to be a happy time for you, but . . .” She began to lose her resolve.

  “But what?” demanded Katrina caustically. “Go on, you may as well say it all out.”

  “I . . . I only—that is . . . it seems that Basil Anickin . . . that perhaps he is not perfectly suited to you.”

  “Not suited to me!” exploded the princess. “I suppose you listen to all those ugly rumors too!” she yelled. “What do you know, anyway? You are only an ignorant peasant! All you people still exist in the Dark Ages. You wouldn’t know love . . . you wouldn’t know a fine noble person if you bumped straight into him. Just because you don’t have a man, you want to spoil my life for me. All I can say is . . . is . . .”

  Katrina’s anger and frustration overcame her. She could find no more words, and stamped her foot like an ill-tempered child.

  “Oh . . . get out of my sight!” she blustered. “I am sick of you!”

  Anna obeyed, fighting back tears.

  She knew she had already gone well beyond the limits of her natural courage, and even further, beyond the propriety of her position. She hurried from the room, crying.

  The hurt was not primarily a result of Katrina’s harsh words. Her mistress had said angry words to her before. She knew Katrina did not mean half the things she said at such times.

  What hurt Anna most of all was that she had failed. She had not been strong enough or convincing enough or even clever enough to persuade Katrina to listen, and thus shield her mistress from what was sure to be a disastrous path. She could not help but blame herself for her ineptitude.

  And now she must stand by and watch Katrina make what she feared was a terrible mistake.

  20

  The rest of the day progressed no more pleasantly than it had begun. Anna remained studiously out of Katrina’s way, and managed to go about her duties with only a few brief strained encounters with her mistress.

  Under normal circumstances Anna would never have paid the least attention to any of the household gossip always circulating about among the servants. On this day, however, she not only found herself listening, but even venturing a question or two.

  Some time after breakfast she heard about the confrontation between Katrina and Prince and Princess Fedorcenko. The parlor maid had overheard bits of the conversation from the corridor outside the upstairs parlor.

  “There was lots of yelling,” she told Anna.

  “Who was yelling?” asked Anna.

  “The prince was doing most of it. Although your mistress had a few loud words for him too—bless me, but that child has nerve! I am surprised Prince Fedorcenko didn’t grab her and throw her over his knee right there!”

  “What did he say?” asked Anna.

  “I was not close enough to hear many words. I dusted that hallway until even Mrs. Remington could not have found a speck of dirt anywhere. But all I got for my labors was a phrase here and there, such as the prince saying, ‘Over my dead body!’ and Princess Katrina yelling back, ‘You cannot stop me!’”

  “Did Princess Katrina’s mother say anything?”

  “I did not hear Princess Natalia’s voice until Princess Katrina had said, ‘We don’t need your blessing. We shall have a civil ceremony if necessary.’ To that Princess Natalia exclaimed, ‘Not get married in the church! Katrina, how can you do this to us?’”

  “That was all?” asked Anna.

  “Princess Fedorcenko mostly cried for the rest of the time.”

  “So the prince never gave his consent?”

  “Not from the looks of Princess Katrina’s face when she stormed out of the parlor a few minutes later. What do they have against the fellow anyway, Anna? Do you know?”

  Anna did not answer. She knew nothing of Basil Anickin except for a vague sense of disquiet she always felt when around him.

  “I’ve seen him once or twice,” the maid went on. “He seems enough like a gentleman.”

  “There must be reasons,” was all Anna replied.

  Two other maids happened along and found ready excuse to join the conversation.

  “I hear the man is the son of a former serf,” one of them said, with knowing expression and raised eyebrows. “Imagine our princess wanting to marry such a man!”

  “I have heard worse than that,” said the other, lowering her voice. “I hear he is in league with the militant rebels.”

  “That may be,” replied the other, “but I hear he’s a loony one besides.”

  Later in the day the intended bridegroom himself paid a visit. By that time it was fortunate that the prince had left home on business. Princess Natalia begged Katrina not to see Basil, but to no avail.

  Basil stayed only a short time, and when Katrina returned to her room afterwards, she appeared utterly spent. Thinking it might help, Anna went down to the kitchen to order a tray of tea for her mistress.

  She brought it into the room about ten minutes later, where Katrina was lying on the bed. Anna set down the tray. The princess said nothing.

  “I thought you would like some tea, Your Highness.”

  A lengthy silence followed. Why Anna lingered she did not know. At length she turned to leave. A moment later a small, strained voice from the bed spoke.

  “Thank you” was all Katrina said. But it was enough for Anna just then.

  Katrina remained in her room the rest of the day. She took her dinner there alone, though she hardly touched it.

  Anna spent the early hours of the evening trying to read, but it was no use. Her mind was too full of Princess Katrina’s troubles to be able to concentrate.

  She could not escape the feeling, although she had nothing solid to base it on, that somehow in spite of Katrina’s sharp words the princess was counting on Anna to help her in this horrible fix she had gotten herself into. What she could do to help, Anna had no idea, as everything she had tried to say already had been completely rebuffed by her mistress.

  Yet Katrina seemed more miserable than anyone, and it did not seem to be merely as a result of her father’s critical words about Basil. When she set her mind on something, the princess was not apt to be particularly sensitive about other people’s opinions—even her father’s.

  Was the princess, in her own vague and unspoken way, actually hoping for Anna’s help, waiting for her maid to come to her rescue in this mistaken commitment she had made?

  Anna tried once more to focus her attention on her book. But it was no use.

  What co
uld be done? How could she possibly help?

  Suddenly Anna snapped her book shut. There was only one person left whom Katrina might listen to!

  21

  It was already midevening when Anna stole quietly out to the coachhouse.

  It was a bold and daring plan. She had never done anything like it in her life. But for the sake of her mistress she was willing to risk it, including whatever repercussions might befall her.

  Moskalev, even at that late hour, was still busily cleaning the leather seats on one of the carriages.

  “I think I work harder at the end of the social season than during it,” he told Anna. “With a half-dozen coaches, one or another is always in need of repair. And all of them constantly require cleaning.” He gave a fanciful flourish with his cloth. “So, little Anna, what brings you out at this hour?”

  “If it is not too much of an imposition, Moskalev,” she said, “I would like a ride into the city.”

  “A ride . . . into the city? At this hour?”

  “I must go to the Winter Palace.”

  “Ah, I see. You have an audience with the tsar, eh?” He gave a good-natured mocking laugh.

  Anna could not prevent the tinge of pink that crept into her cheeks, but she answered earnestly. “Not quite that. But it is very important.”

  “Coming from you, I know it must be, Anna,” replied Moskalev. “Let me hitch up a carriage.”

  His tone contained all the respect and affection he had come to feel for this little peasant girl. Since her first day in St. Petersburg, he had always taken a special and personal responsibility for her.

  He hitched the chestnut mare to the vanka—the smaller, plainer coach reserved for the use of the servants. When he finished, he helped Anna climb in, then hopped up onto the seat next to her. With a click of his tongue he urged the mare out of the coach house.

  The day had been warm, but the nagging breeze of evening made Anna glad she had brought along her wool shawl, which she now drew close around her shoulders. Traffic on the streets was light. The St. Petersburg social season had ended some weeks ago, but even more significantly, the quiet streets reflected the recent trouble with rebels throughout the city. Those citizens who hadn’t fled St. Petersburg were keeping indoors as much as possible.