“I think you know very well,” she replied. “My granddaughter is on my mind.”
“And she is very much on ours also.”
“That is why I must ask, Sergei Ivanovich, what are your intentions?”
“We sensed from Mariana’s letters that she missed her family and that she was not completely content.”
“Why, that ungrateful little—!”
“You had best watch what you say, Eugenia!” warned Sergei.
“How dare you speak in such a tone—”
Anna broke in, her tone more controlled and conciliatory than her husband’s. “Countess Eugenia, I am certain we can discuss Mariana’s welfare in a calm, civil manner. But you must understand that we are very close to her and want only the best for her.”
Eugenia sniffed with disdain. “If you really wanted the best for her, you would not have come here to interfere with her life.”
“We missed her,” protested Anna. “We let her come here under the impression that Dmitri would bring her home more often for visits. And, after only three visits in all the time—”
“That’s what I mean! You care nothing for her if you’d have her mingling with peasants, staying in a dirty, vermin-infested shack. She is a countess, deserving of better.”
“At least in her peasant shack”—Sergei slurred the word with contempt—”she was content and happy. I can’t say the same for where she is now.” He jumped up and glared at Dmitri, who was still smoking, though rather nervously at the moment. “Tell me, Dmitri, can you honestly say she is as happy now as she was when you saw her in Katyk?”
Dmitri met the stark challenge with an uneasy cough as he blew out a stream of smoke. “Well, uh . . . I’d say she has adjusted quite well.”
“Only because she hasn’t wanted to break your heart—she’s too young to realize you don’t have one!”
“Now, see here, Sergei,” sputtered Dmitri, “that kind of tone is uncalled for . . . really.”
Sergei forced himself to calm down. He was losing control—or rather, not submitting control to his Lord. This whole matter was too emotionally charged, both with present difficulties and with lingering bitterness from the past. When he spoke again, his tone was more subdued, but it contained a determined resolve. “I am completely displeased with the way this arrangement has turned out. I permitted it only because it was Mariana’s wish. Now, however, I have decided that if it is again her wish, we will terminate the arrangement and Mariana will return to Katyk with us.”
This bold, impetuous statement took everyone by surprise, including Anna. But she was pleased, too, realizing it was time this fiasco was taken into a firm hand. She had no doubt Mariana would want to return home. What she didn’t take into account was Eugenia’s astonishing and vindictive response.
“Now I am certain you care nothing for the girl’s welfare,” Eugenia said. “For your own selfish appeasement you’d throw away all the comforts and opportunity a girl could possibly hope for. I am forced to remind you that you, Sergei Ivanovich, are not the girl’s father. In fact, you have no authority over her at all.”
Anna and Sergei exchanged looks of utter dismay at this. The woman’s words were painfully true.
But Sergei was not ready to accept defeat without a fight. “Do you mean to tell me, Eugenia, that if Mariana wishes to come back to our village, you would keep her here against her will? Surely even you cannot be so heartless.”
“Young girls notoriously do not know their own minds; they need a strong parent to guide them appropriately.” They all knew she wasn’t referring to Dmitri, nor to Sergei. “And that is why Mariana will never be faced with such a choice.”
“What do you mean?” Sergei eyed the woman suspiciously. He knew now she would not have instigated this confrontation unless she was sure of her position.
“I mean, you will henceforth leave the girl alone,” said Eugenia, a hint of triumph glimmering in her eyes. “No—on second thought, you will encourage her to remain here, to embrace the life that has been handed her on a silver platter.”
“In eighteen years, I have never lied to Mariana, and I don’t intend to begin now.” Sergei reached down for Anna’s hand. “Come, Anna, it is time for us to leave.”
But Eugenia’s next words stopped them short. “Never lied, you say? Then she knows all about you, Sergei Viktorovich?”
Sergei shot a disbelieving look at Dmitri. This faithless act seemed the final blow to their flagging friendship.
Dmitri momentarily roused from his cowardly silence. “Mother! I told you that in confidence.”
“And it is the only sensible thing you have done during this entire affair.” Eugenia focused her cold eyes on Sergei. “Yes, I know who you really are, Prince Sergei Fedorcenko. And I tell you that for the child’s own good, I will not hesitate in turning you in to the authorities as the escaped fugitive you are.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“Just try me. But beware, if you do, it will never help Mariana, but rather will bring more shame and pain upon the girl than any child ought to bear. And you will end up doing just the opposite of what you intend—you will destroy her only chance at happiness.”
“And you say you care for Mariana!” accused Sergei. “You could not possibly know how to care for anyone.”
“How much have you cared for her all these years, allowing her to be brought up in the home of an escaped murderer?”
Sergei opened his mouth to impart an angry retort. Anna’s head was clearer, and she saw the futility of further argument with the woman. So she spoke before he had a chance. “Countess Eugenia,” she said stiffly, summoning all her strength to keep her tone even and civil, “will you give my husband and me some time to discuss this privately before we make a decision?”
“That is only fair,” said the countess. “Come, Dmitri, let’s step out of the room for a few minutes.”
“I was hoping for a day or two, away from the heat of this present moment,” said Anna.
“I want this settled now, tonight, before the girl’s life is further disrupted,” said Eugenia intractably.
She and Dmitri left the room, firmly closing the door behind them, but not before Dmitri cast a final, pathetically apologetic glance at his one-time friend.
Sergei had begun to pace and fume silently, fury etched across his face in a hard, uncharacteristic scowl. When the doors were shut, he spun around as if he would vent the full force of his ire at his wife.
“How could you be so conciliatory toward her? By the Saints! You don’t plan on bowing to her will, do you? Because I’ll tell you right now, Anna, you’ll not have my support if you do. Never—never!—will I succumb to that woman’s threats!” He crossed his arms and stared at her, panting from the exertion of his outburst.
Anna licked her trembling lips. Sergei had never spoken to her in that hard, angry tone before. The thought of this terrible affair dividing them was overwhelming. Tears rose to her eyes and spilled over, trailing sadly down her cheeks. Only with difficulty was she able to speak at all, much less with any semblance of calm reason.
“Sergei, we must take a moment to think before we act.”
Sergei hardly heard her words. His eyes, softened now, focused on her silent tears; his heart quaked in the knowledge that he had caused them.
“I’m sorry for yelling at you, Anna. You know it wasn’t really directed at you, don’t you?”
“I know, my dear.” She brushed a hand across her damp face. “Come and sit next to me and let’s talk.”
He sat down. “You believe we should give into Eugenia’s threats?” This time he asked rather than shouted.
“Sergei, I think you are too bound up in all that Dmitri and Eugenia represent to be able to look at this situation objectively. Don’t get me wrong, I am disgusted with Dmitri and appalled at Eugenia. Yet we need to look beyond those feelings and consider the other factors.”
“Which are?”
“First of all, just how unhapp
y is Mariana? Is her unhappiness severe enough for you to risk spending the rest of your life in Siberia?” She paused for a moment, but didn’t give him a chance to respond. Instead, she answered her own question with conviction. “I think not! Perhaps if her life were endangered . . . but it isn’t. Furthermore, I really don’t think Mariana wants to return to Katyk. I’ve had a chance to talk with her only a little, but it sounds to me as if she would like to give this life a chance. She is discovering new things about herself that she would like to continue to explore and develop. True, she doesn’t like Eugenia—who does? But we must consider how long she will have to be under that woman’s thumb. Mariana is eighteen. Boarding school could remove her from Eugenia’s direct influence. Before too long, perhaps, she will marry. But whatever happens, Mariana will be on her own very soon. Even Eugenia can’t stop that.”
“Oh, my wise, sensible wife! Sometimes you surprise even me, your hotheaded husband.” He placed his arm around her and gave her an affectionate squeeze. “I have one question: What if Eugenia does try to stop her? That woman thrives on control.”
“Let’s worry about crossing that field when we come to it. In the meantime, we will be near Mariana to insure that things don’t get out of hand. And, as much as I hate to admit it, I still think Dmitri will defend Mariana when he sees it is necessary.”
“Dmitri is nothing but a milksop these days. I doubt he has any will of his own.” Sergei could not help recalling the old days. When they were boys growing up together, Dmitri defiantly rebelled against his mother’s controlling nature.
“I believe that down deep he has a soft spot for Mariana—otherwise I wouldn’t have let her come here with him in the first place.”
Sergei sighed, remembering his initial irate refusals. Perhaps he, Sergei, had a soft spot for Anna. But his change of heart had as much to do with his own good sense telling him he must accept irrefutable logic. He gazed with pride at Anna. “You wasted yourself by not going to law school, my dear.”
“I found much more interesting things to do.” She smiled coyly at him.
“All right. You’ve won your case. But let’s not overwhelm the good count and countess with our submission. They must understand that they have control for a season only because we choose to give it to them. Our consent comes with provisions—the most important being that we shall have complete freedom to see Mariana.”
Anna nodded, more than glad to leave the remainder of the discussion with Dmitri and his mother to Sergei. All she wanted now was to spend what was left of the day with Mariana.
59
Countess Eugenia never became fully resigned to the fact that Anna and Sergei would continue to be part of Mariana’s life. But at least she no longer stood in their way. Anna suspected that Dmitri might have had something to do with this, for after the confrontation she noticed that he was rather subdued, sometimes even noticeably affable in their presence. She had the impression that he was trying, without losing too much face, to make it up to her and Sergei—especially Sergei.
To prevent stirring up the hornet’s nest of the countess’s ire, Anna and Sergei tried to have their meetings with Mariana on neutral ground. Usually they went to various parks in the city; Anna and Sergei would never have been able to bring themselves to take Mariana to the Chavkin apartment. It was only temporary anyway, and in the meantime, there was no need to burden Mariana with their problems.
One hot afternoon in late summer they took Mariana and the boys to the Alexander Gardens near Senate Square, where the great bronze statue of Peter the Great stood. The rich green of early summer was beginning to dull, since there had been no rain to wash the leaves. But the shining sun reflected off the trunks of the many birch trees, and it was still beautiful. Mariana had found a couple of wooden toy boats that Dmitri had played with as a child, and these she loaned to her brothers. They took the boats to a little pond in the park, accompanied by Sergei, who was as delighted with the toys as his sons. At least by the edge of the pond, they could cool off in the sweltering heat.
Anna and Mariana walked quietly along the garden paths, pausing occasionally to watch the three “sailors” push the toy boats in the water. Anna sensed a pensive mood in Mariana and wondered if she would at last open up her heart.
They talked for a while about settling into their new lives in the city. Mariana expressed some of her feelings about the so-called noble life Dmitri and Eugenia had initiated for her, how she enjoyed some things and how in others she just didn’t seem to belong. But Anna had the feeling that in this part of the conversation, concerning matters which she had mentioned before, her daughter was merely “warming up” before sharing something she had been avoiding for many days.
Finally Mariana sighed. She plopped down on a nearby bench, and when her mother joined her, she gave her an extremely intense look.
“Oh, Mama, that’s not really what’s bothering me at all.”
“So, what is on your mind, Mariana?”
“Men!” Mariana gave another heavy sigh. “I don’t have anyone to talk to . . . but even if I had a horde of girlfriends, I guess I’d still want to talk to you. It’s just that everything is so complicated. I hoped it would all go away. I’ve been so stupid, but . . . well, they have, too!”
“They?”
Mariana seemed to ignore her mother’s question. “Mama, do you remember a talk we had once in Katyk when I told you I wanted to marry Stephan?”
Anna smiled and nodded.
“You spoke to me of the wisdom of waiting,” Mariana continued. “Well, I see now how right you were.” Anna’s grin broadened. “Yes, you were right, Mama, and I’m not too proud to admit it. But, Mama, would I seem a terrible, terrible person if I admitted something else?” She didn’t wait for an answer before rushing on. “Would you think I was a frivolous child if I said I don’t know if I love Stephan anymore?”
“Hardly,” answered Anna without hesitation. “I think it might be a sign of maturity that you are able to discern your feelings like that.”
“But how can you love someone one minute, and not love him the next? It’s not that way with you and Papa.”
“I don’t want to slight the feelings you have simply because you are young, Mariana. They are important. But I think such changeableness is common with young people. You are still growing and discovering the kind of person you are. Your needs are changing so rapidly that it is difficult for your feelings to keep pace with them. As for your papa and me, the steadfastness of our love is based as much upon the commitment we made when we married as it is on our feelings. When you are ready to make such a commitment, Mariana, I think you will understand what I mean.”
They paused for a few moments as the activities at the pond caught their attention. Anna mopped beads of perspiration from her forehead with a handkerchief.
“Mama! Look at us!” shouted Andrei.
A breeze had caught in the sail of one of the boats and it was heeled over, racing over the water. Sergei had a firm grip on the long string attached to the boat, but it was an impressive sight regardless.
Anna and Mariana waved. In another moment the second boat connected with the wind and Yuri had quite a job hanging on to that string.
The small breath of wind was appreciated no less by Anna and Mariana. Anna had forgotten how hot the summer could be in St. Petersburg. But now she also remembered that such heat waves often brought disease. That’s why, when she was a maid to Katrina, they had spent most summers in the Crimea.
Mariana spoke again. “Mama, have you noticed any . . . well, any changes in me since I’ve been here? I mean, not the obvious, the clothes and all, but anything else?”
“I can say one thing, Mariana; I have never known you to be this introspective!”
“That’s it! I am finding that I really don’t mind thinking about things—well, most things. I still don’t care much for politics, but I like history, and I have discovered some books in the library at home. Can you believe I am reading witho
ut anyone telling me to?”
Anna recalled some of the battles she’d had in the past trying to get Mariana to attend to her lessons at home. In the end, Anna always sensed that Mariana succeeded only because she was too stubborn to admit defeat. The child was maturing, and very nicely, too.
“But, Mama, I am finding all these changes confusing!”
“A lot was thrust upon you all at once,” replied Anna. She was content to be the listener, commenting only when necessary, allowing her daughter the freedom to continue unburdening herself.
“I was once so sure I wanted to marry Stephan,” Mariana went on, hardly needing to be prompted now that her emotional floodgates were open. “Then Daniel, the American reporter I told you about, came along and I thought I was falling in love with him. Then I saw them together and wondered if I didn’t love them both! Now I think I hate them both.” She gave a brief description of the awful confrontation a few weeks ago. “I told Daniel I didn’t want to see him again. He came around a few times, but I refused to see him. Now he’s gone off to cover that Boxer Uprising in China for his newspaper, so even if I wanted to, I couldn’t see him. Maybe I was too hard on him. I really miss his company, despite the way he used me. He was fun and exciting, and we really seemed to understand each other, even though we are from two entirely different cultures. But then when I think it was all probably an act in order to get material for his article, I get furious all over again. I have never been so confused.”
She paused for a breath, then hurried on. “And then there’s Stephan—well, he’s never around much anyway. His political meetings always come first. But when he does come around . . . I don’t know, it’s different. I’m not much interested in his politics, and when I talk about my life he gets so irate about the silly ‘bourgeois capitalists’ that we end up with little to say. I know now that in Katyk we had little in common besides our ages. But suddenly the differences that didn’t seem to matter there are huge and painfully obvious.
The Russians Collection Page 145