“Shall I pull up at the front door, Anna?” jibed Moskalev as they rounded into the lane leading to the Winter Palace.
“Oh no!” replied Anna quickly, missing the humor in the coachman’s tone.
Moskalev laughed. “So, where then? It is a huge place.”
“Where are the soldiers’ barracks,” she asked, “where the Palace Guard lives?”
“Ah, so it is a soldier you want to see, then?” he said with a knowing tone.
Anna felt herself blush in the darkness. Moskalev must surely think this was some sort of romantic rendezvous. But as embarrassing as it was, it was better for him to think her in love than to know her true business.
Moskalev said nothing further. He merely nodded and drove to one of the back entrances. When he came to a stop, Anna prepared to step down. He laid a hand on her shoulder.
“Who is this soldier you must see, Anna? I will get him for you.”
Anna sighed with relief. The prospect of approaching the soldiers’ barracks alone had not been a pleasant one.
“His name is Lieutenant Grigorov,” said Anna, “a Cossack guard.”
“A Cossack?” returned Moskalev with a disapproving twitch of his moustache. He climbed out of the carriage and headed for the barracks.
After waiting for ten minutes, Anna began to realize what an impossible task she might have set for herself and the coachman. If Misha was on duty, he could be anywhere in the huge palace. Even if he was off duty, what if he wasn’t in the barracks? She had almost despaired of her whole impulsive plan when at last she heard movement and voices.
“Right out here, Lieutenant, sir.”
Anna nearly laughed with joy. She jumped from the carriage and ran toward them. “Misha!” she called. “I was afraid we would not find you.”
Grigorov reached Anna in two long strides. He gently took her hands in his.
“Anna, what is it?” he said. “What can be so wrong as to bring you here at night, and alone?” His voice was laced with concern.
Anna had already ceased worrying about what Moskalev might be thinking. “Oh, Misha, I need your help,” she answered. But then she glanced at the coachman and hesitated, realizing that she could hardly speak openly of the princess in front of him.
Moskalev understood her meaning, although he still did not know what the whole affair was about. “I’ll wait with the horse,” he said. As he turned he shot a quick warning glance at Grigorov. “I won’t be far,” he added meaningfully.
Anna and Misha walked a few paces in the opposite direction. He kept her hand in his, and somehow she felt better already just being in his presence.
“There is trouble with Princess Katrina,” she said at length. “She is determined to marry Doctor Anickin’s son. I am convinced she does not love him, but she will not listen to reason. She will listen neither to her parents nor to me. There is only one person she might still listen to.”
“Who are you thinking of?” asked Misha.
“Count Remizov. But even if I knew how to find him, I could not search for him by myself.”
“You wish me to help you locate Count Remizov?” he asked, his thick eyebrows drawn even closer together in perplexity.
“If you could, Misha.”
“Who is this doctor’s son? And how can you be sure she does not love him?” He paused. “Though perhaps you would prefer I do not know.”
“If you are to help me, you deserve to know,” replied Anna. “The situation is simple enough, I suppose. Princess Katrina has loved Count Remizov since she was a child. A few weeks ago the count announced his engagement, and the princess was devastated. Almost immediately she began to take up with Basil Anickin. And now she has agreed to marry him.”
“And you do not like the man?”
“I would not like to think that is my only reason. He worries me. His reputation is widespread.”
“What kind of reputation?”
“There are rumors among the servants that he is a militant, an agitator, that he defends those who are against the government.”
“Defends them?”
“He is a lawyer.”
“I see. And you believe these rumors?”
“I would give no weight to such things if I had not seen him on many occasions myself. Misha, there is something about him . . . something frightening, almost dangerous. He behaves as a perfect gentleman. But I have seen a smoldering fire in his eyes that makes me shudder.”
“And the princess is aware of none of this?”
“She has given no indication of it. But I think she is so confused over the loss of Count Remizov that she has blinded herself to reality. I actually believe she would risk hurting herself, even condemning herself to a lifetime with a man she does not really love, if she could hurt the count in the process.”
“It sounds to me as if Count Remizov would be the last person she would listen to should he attempt to dissuade her from marrying this Anickin. It might only deepen her resolve.”
“You may be right,” sighed Anna. “But with her brother gone . . .”
The momentary hesitation in Anna’s voice caused Misha to glance quickly into her face. But he made no comment over her reference to Sergei.
“ . . . with Prince Sergei gone,” Anna went on, “there is no one else.”
“So you do believe there is a chance she will listen?”
“I do not know, Misha. But if there is any possibility, it seems it is a chance I have to take. From what the princess says, Count Remizov does feel at least a brotherly concern on her behalf.”
Misha scratched his head, then rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Why should Count Remizov want to intercede?” he asked at length. “What makes you think he will go along with any of this?”
“I know he has voiced his disapproval of Basil in the past.”
“Well, Anna,” he said after a long pause, “this all seems a rather confusing maze to me. But if you feel this marriage must be stopped, that is enough for me. Let us go immediately and find the count.”
She smiled with relief. “Thank you, Misha!”
22
Anna felt uneasy about involving Moskalev further in such an affair that could cause his loyalties in the Fedorcenko home to come into question. But when she suggested he return to the estate without her, his refusal was firm and unwavering. Nothing short of an imperial edict would make him leave Anna alone with the Cossack!
Anna smiled inwardly at his protectiveness. If only he knew what a gentle young man Lieutenant Grigorov was.
They covered a great deal of ground that night, the unlikely trio of Katrina’s ministering angel and the angel’s two protectors.
A stop at Count Remizov’s barracks only told them that Dmitri was out for the evening. A disgruntled servant at the Remizov family home fairly burned their ears with rebuke at disturbing decent people at such an ungodly hour. A drive by Alice Nabatov’s home proved equally futile. Seeing no sign of life or light in any of the windows, they moved on. Two or three other soldiers whom Misha knew throughout the city turned up not a speck of information either.
At last with a sigh, Misha said he knew nowhere else to look except the wine shops and gambling houses.
“Then we had best be on our way,” said Anna.
He glanced at her sideways. “Anna,” he said, “perhaps it would be best if I went the rest of the way alone.” Moskalev was quick to nod his agreement.
“Will you have the same chance of convincing him to talk with the princess as I?” she asked.
“I don’t even think Count Remizov likes me much,” answered Misha with a half-smile.
“How well do you know him?”
“Not well. Our encounters during the war were brief enough, and I have only seen him a few times since, in a wine shop or two.”
“Then why do you say he doesn’t care for you?”
“There is no great love between Cossacks and soldiers of the regular Imperial Army. Sergei was the exception to the rule.”
>
“Then it seems there is no other choice but for me to accompany you.”
“Perhaps if we waited until tomorrow we could find him on duty,” said Misha hopefully.
“I know I cannot fully explain it,” said Anna, “but I sense a great urgency to this mission. Besides, I would rather speak to him at a time and place that will draw as little attention as possible.”
“Hmm . . . I do see what you mean. Well then, Anna, I remain at your disposal.” He bowed gallantly as he stood beside the carriage, then took her hand and helped her back into her seat.
They finally located Dmitri on the fourth stop. The gambling parlor was named Dauphin’s, but from the sound of music and laughter escaping through the closed doors, it was apparent that considerably more than gambling was going on inside.
Misha went inside alone, as he had done at the previous stops. Anna and Moskalev sat in the carriage and waited.
During their long search, Anna’s mind had turned over and over what she would say to the count should they locate him. By now she despaired of finding him at all. Fatigue had overcome her mind and body; she almost hoped she might not be called upon to make an awkward speech to a nobleman.
Within minutes, however, Misha reappeared with another man by his side.
23
A night of carousing had not left Dmitri Remizov at his best.
His uniform jacket hung open, revealing a white shirt stuffed carelessly into his trousers. Suspenders hung down at his sides. His bleary eyes were focused on Misha in an unfriendly manner.
“See here, Lieutenant,” he sputtered, “this had better be important! I still have money on the table in there.”
“I would not have insisted if it were not,” replied Misha evenly.
When they reached the carriage, Dmitri looked up at Anna and the coachman. Whether he recognized either of them as belonging to the Fedorcenko household, especially in the darkness, was doubtful. Whatever he had been expecting, this was certainly not it.
“Well?” he said testily.
“This lady wishes to speak with you,” said the Cossack.
“What? She looks like a servant!”
“Be that as it may, she has business with you.”
“I never saw her before!”
“Look again, Count Remizov.”
Dmitri squinted and thrust his face closer. “Why, you do look familiar,” he mumbled. “Aren’t you . . . yes, Katrina’s servant, that’s it.”
“Yes, sir, I am,” replied Anna quietly. In his present disheveled state, the count did not look as intimidating as usual.
Suddenly Dmitri jerked to attention, a look of distress briefly replacing his displeasure.
“Has something happened to Katrina?” he asked.
“She is well, Your Excellency, but . . . may I speak with you alone?”
“Of course.”
He helped Anna from the carriage. As they started toward the building, Misha stepped forward and spoke. “Must you take her in there?”
“I will be fine, Misha,” said Anna, with more confidence in her voice than she felt.
Moskalev jumped from his driver’s seat as if to protest. But Misha laid a firm hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Moskalev; I will stay close to them.”
His words only partially mollified the coachman, who still trusted Cossacks less than he did noblemen. However, throughout the evening he had denoted a few worthy qualities in this particular Cossack he had not expected. He was therefore able to stretch the limits of his personal views and trust him, this time, for Anna’s sake.
Misha followed a few paces behind Anna and Dmitri. Just before entering the dark and rowdy place, he hurriedly caught up with them. “Look here, Remizov,” he said, “you take care with this girl. She is not just any servant!”
Dmitri said nothing in reply, only casting Misha a sour look before ducking inside.
Never in her life had Anna been in such a place; she had never even set foot in Ivan lvanovich’s comparatively innocent little tavern in Katyk. This was no place for a girl like her, especially late at night, and she instinctively crossed herself as she entered.
In the dim, smoky light Anna could make out very few details at first, but only heard raucous sounds and saw vague shapes. She was thankful when they immediately turned away from the noisy, crowded, smoke-filled room. Dmitri led them instead down a poorly lit back corridor past several closed doors. Muted sounds of voices could be heard, and laughter.
They paused at the last door and Dmitri knocked softly.
A woman answered the door. She was dressed in a dark green evening gown, cut low at the neck, emphasizing a full, voluptuous figure. She was probably in her mid-forties, but her heavily painted face seemed intent on disguising her age. She spoke in perfect French.
“Ah, Dmitri, mon ami, what can I do for you?” The woman’s eyes took in Dmitri’s rather incongruous companions.
“Madame Dauphin, may we use your office for a few moments?”
“Certainly. But wouldn’t one of my other rooms be more comfortable?” she offered, throwing a brief glance in Grigorov’s direction, as if wondering what they were going to do with him.
Dmitri gave her an oddly amused look. “No,” he replied, “I think this would be much more suitable.”
“Then, please be my guests.” She opened the door wide and motioned them to enter.
Misha did not follow, but he said pointedly, “I will be just outside the door, Anna.” Then the door closed and he positioned himself in the corridor with no less attentiveness than if he were guarding the tsar himself.
Madame Dauphin gave him a coy wink. “Am I entertaining a grand duchess in disguise, Lieutenant?” When Misha indicated that he did not understand French, she repeated herself in heavily accented Russian.
“You are entertaining far better than any grand duchess,” Misha replied. His words carried deep conviction.
Inside Madame Dauphin’s office, Dmitri had pulled together two chairs and insisted that a reluctant Anna be seated. Anna took only superficial stock of the spacious, well-appointed surroundings.
“So—” Dmitri said, but stopped almost as soon as he began. “I don’t seem to recall your name.”
“Anna Yevnovna, Your Excellency.”
“Well, Anna Yevnovna, what is this matter of such urgency that you have deemed it necessary to seek me out in the middle of the night? You are certain Princess Katrina is all right?”
“Yes, she is fine. At least . . . physically.”
“Then tell me, what has happened?” His voice again filled with distress. Anna thought it contained more than mere brotherly concern would account for.
He jumped to his feet. “Is it that Anickin fellow? What has he done to her?”
“Your Excellency, Princess Katrina has consented to marry Basil Anickin.”
“By heaven, that can’t be true!”
“I am sorry to say it is true. She plans to marry him . . . and against her parents’ will.”
“She loves him?” From his tone Anna could not tell if his comment was a question or an angry retort. “How can she?” he added softly, as if speaking to himself.
“I believe she is too confused to know her own mind about Basil Anickin, Your Excellency,” said Anna.
“Why do you come to me about this?”
Anna looked down into her lap, embarrassed.
“It is hardly a servant’s place to interfere in such a matter,” Dmitri persisted.
How could Anna explain her unusual relationship with her mistress when she hardly understood it herself? How could she make this man understand—this nobleman and soldier who was accustomed to viewing servants as things rather than people? How could he comprehend her desperation at Princess Katrina’s plight? How could she make him see that she was acting out of a deeply felt responsibility toward her mistress and her friend?
“Your Excellency,” Anna began, fighting her natural timidity, “I have come to you because Princess Katrina ha
s confided many things to me.”
At last Anna glanced up. Her eyes met Dmitri’s, which now pierced directly into her own. In that single look, he knew, without further explanation, that Anna was more than a servant. Suddenly it was clear why she had come, and that she possessed as much right to talk to him on Katrina’s behalf as anyone.
“I know,” Anna went on after a momentary hesitation, “that Princess Katrina has loved you, and that she was deeply stung by your engagement. I know you have behaved honorably toward her, yet still she was hurt because her own feelings went so deep. I believe she has agreed to marry Basil Anickin out of reaction to that hurt, perhaps in anger toward you.”
“Then you do not believe she loves him—”
He stopped suddenly, glancing away in frustration, with a hand to his head. “It doesn’t matter whether she does or not!” he exclaimed. “She cannot marry that man! He will ruin her life!”
“How well do you know him?”
“He is unstable at best—and I don’t know what, at worst.”
“I feared as much,” sighed Anna.
“How could she ever consent to such an alliance?” said Dmitri, more to himself than Anna. “She always was a stubborn, headstrong thing.”
“I believe she is determined to marry him.”
“She must not!”
“I think you are the only one she may listen to, Your Excellency.”
Anna’s statement was met with a bitter laugh of irony. “I doubt that,” he said. “When we last spoke, she was full of venom at me. I spoke to her then about Anickin and cautioned her against further involvement.”
“But there is no one else.”
“It is too bad Sergei is gone,” sighed Dmitri. “He would be able to talk some sense into that hard head of hers.”
Anna felt her cheeks warming, but forced herself not to dwell on thoughts of the young prince. “But you are still here, Your Excellency,” she said.
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