59
Snow had been falling all morning. A lovely sight. Peaceful, clean, like a promise of good things to come.
Mariana needed such a promise now. The trip back from the war had been long, and the whole ordeal had left her exhausted. She had arrived home a week ago, excited that she would be home for Christmas. But she had landed in the middle of a family crisis, and a dreary holiday had passed with Papa Sergei in prison. The family gathering had been a glum one to say the least. Mama Anna had tried to minimize Sergei’s plight to her recuperating niece, but the strain, evidenced in new creases around Anna’s brow, was obvious. She tried to be cheerful, but her voice was thin, as if tears were not far away.
When Mariana had imagined her homecoming while lying in the hospital in Vladivostok, she had envisioned Anna’s tender arms holding her, comforting her, assuring her that all would be well, that Daniel would return to her, and that she could maintain hope for her future—for their future together. Instead, Mariana had been called upon to offer words of comfort and assurance to Anna, and hope for her future. She didn’t begrudge this unexpected turnabout, but . . . oh, why couldn’t life be smooth for a change?
Watching the quiet snowfall from her bedroom window was like a balm to Mariana. A brief respite. It changed nothing, but even a little reminder that peace did exist was something to cherish.
The respite didn’t last long. Her door suddenly burst open, letting in a cold draft—along with Eugenia Remizov.
Mariana had wanted to stay at Mama Anna’s to recuperate. But her pere, Dmitri, had been so overwrought with joy at her homecoming, she could not hurt him by revealing her true desire. Besides, Anna had enough to deal with without having to nurse Mariana. She was recovering steadily. She could walk to the water closet by herself, and had even ventured for short treks in the corridor outside her room, but each excursion had left her quite exhausted. The doctor had told her she had lost so much blood that it would take much time before she regained her strength back. There was even a hint that she might never return to her previous vigor. Anna didn’t need a patient on her hands.
But it meant Mariana had to put up with her overbearing grandmother. Why didn’t the woman fulfill her constant threats and move back to Moscow?
“Mariana!” Eugenia exclaimed with a rare look of pleasure on her long, angular face. “Today is surely the best day of your life!” She waved a letter in Mariana’s face.
All that Mariana could think of was that she had received word that Daniel was on his way back to her.
“What is it, Grandmother?” Mariana had finally conceded in addressing Eugenia as grandmother, but the title would never come easy. Often she had wished she could have known Princess Natalia—who, she had been told, had been a sweet, gentle lady.
“A letter for you, my dear.”
“I assume you read it?” Mariana indicated she was irked at this invasion of her privacy.
“In your own best interests,” defended Eugenia. “I would not want to expose you to any undue shock in your delicate state of health, Mariana. It’s my duty.”
“Well, let me see the letter—or, isn’t that permitted?”
“I will not let your insolence spoil this great day.” Eugenia was spilling over with goodwill, and she was determined to be the imparter of the good news rather than let Mariana read it for herself. “You, my dear, have received an invitation from His Majesty the tsar!” Triumphantly she dropped the letter on Mariana’s covers.
“Oh,” was all Mariana could say. She should have known that Eugenia wouldn’t have been excited over a letter from Daniel.
“Is that all you can say? Why, you ungrateful child! This is the turning point of your life. Our family fortunes have finally improved. I’ll be able to get you the best match in Russia—”
“That won’t be necessary, Grandmother! I already have the best man . . . in the world!”
“That American? Bah! We can only hope he never gets out of that Japanese prison camp.”
“Countess Eugenia! How can you say such a thing? How can—?”
“Oh, simmer down, child. I suppose it was an unkind remark.” Even Eugenia knew when she had gone too far. “But it distresses me so to see you ruin your life. I still can’t believe you turned down Prince Philip Barsukov. The richest family in Moscow, and the elder prince is easily one of the most influential men in all of Russia. What were you thinking? Just count your blessings that you’ve been given this new opportunity. An audience with the emperor and empress will enhance your social fortunes to no end.”
Mariana sighed, then laid a hand across her forehead. “Grandmother, I think I feel faint.” She closed her eyes, and lolled her head to the side.
“Mariana?”
In a weak whisper, Mariana said, “Perhaps a cup of tea might revive me . . .”
Eugenia clucked her tongue and gave a frustrated shake of her head. “You better work on building your strength.” It was an order, not a concerned request. “You can’t miss the appointment at the palace.”
Eugenia strode from the room. Mariana carefully opened an eye to make sure her grandmother was gone, then the other eye popped open and she breathed another sigh. She’d had her fill of Eugenia’s railings—another minute of it, and she really would have fainted!
Absently she picked up the letter. Looking at the fine linen paper and the gold Imperial seal, she had to admit that it was rather incredible. She slipped the letter from the envelope. A personal note from the tsar. Well, a closer inspection showed that it had probably been written by one of his secretaries—but handwritten, not typed.
To Countess Mariana Dmitrievna Remizov, From Their Majesties, Emperor and Empress of all the Russias, Nicholas II and Alexandra Fedorovna: Be it known that you are hereby requested to attend an audience with Their Royal Majesties. Their Majesties wish to meet a true hero of the war in which our beloved country is now engaged. In consideration of your current illness Their Highnesses will await your suggestion as to the date and time. Please reply at your earliest convenience.
Mariana smiled. The tsar was bowing to her “earliest convenience”? Incredible. And “true hero”? Who had he been talking to? It must have been Philip, or perhaps the sister he spoke of so often. The Barsukovs were the only people she knew who had any knowledge of her time in Manchuria, and who were also close to the tsar. Mariana’s father had also mentioned his blossoming friendship with Philip’s sister.
But what had the tsar been told? She felt a little silly to think that he had been given misinformation. She was no hero. And what would he think if he knew she had taken a bullet in order to save a Japanese commander? Perhaps that part had been omitted. It might be best for her to decline the royal invitation.
Eugenia would have a seizure!
In spite of the fact that disappointing Eugenia would give her just a touch of pleasure, Mariana did think she’d rather take advantage of the invitation. It wasn’t every day someone was given the opportunity to meet the tsar. It would be a memorable experience. She would tell Daniel all about it and he would probably write—
The thought of Daniel deflated all her rising excitement. Would she see him again? Where was he? How was he? He had to be all right! And, if he was, would he then be worried about her survival? How would he ever know from a prison that she had survived?
Then she remembered to pray. Crossing herself, she uttered simply, “Dear Lord, wherever Daniel is, protect him and help him to know that you are near. And, please, bring him back to me!”
60
Eugenia saw to it that a pot of hot tea was sent up to Mariana. Though it seemed to her that her granddaughter’s fainting spell had been terribly convenient, she did think it expedient that she do what she could to stay on the girl’s good side. That wasn’t easy, to be sure, what with her phoney self-effacing manner, and her stubborn flaunting of her peasant simplicity.
But this was no time for Eugenia to lose her patience. She had put up with the girl for this long, and now,
with an audience with the tsar in her near future, she would have to continue her forbearance.
But what would she do if that flighty child insisted on marrying that idiotic American? Eugenia had thought she had put an end to that relationship a few years ago, when she had destroyed the American rogue’s letters before Mariana had a chance to see them. Apparently he was a persistent lout.
For that day and the next the question hovered over her like a cloud. No wonder she was getting a headache. On the afternoon of the second day, she retired to her boudoir for the remainder of the day. But, lying on her daybed, with a cool cloth over her forehead, she could not escape the dread that she might not be able to control her granddaughter. And it didn’t help that Eugenia’s milksop of a son was determined to give the girl anything she wanted.
If only she could think of something that even Dmitri would have to concede to, a line he would not step over even for his daughter. Something so socially repugnant—
Eugenia smiled as the perfect solution came to her devious mind. It was really very simple. In fact, Mariana herself might have to accept it as an insurmountable stumbling block to her marriage to that loathsome American.
An hour later, Dmitri came by to inquire of his mother’s health. She hadn’t seen him since the royal letter had come. She assumed he had been on one of his all-night gambling sprees, but instead of rebuking him Eugenia welcomed him into her boudoir.
“Dmitri, have you heard the good news?”
“The audience with the tsar? It’s unbelievable, isn’t it? I never thought Yalena would actually speak to the tsar.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I must admit that I planted the idea in her pretty head. We were talking about the discouraging progress of the war and how distressed the tsar was. I mentioned that if only he knew about some of the heroes of the war, he’d probably feel much better. I said it lifted my heart every day when I thought of my Mariana’s courage and how she was wounded for her country. It didn’t take Yalena long to come up with the notion of telling it to the tsar.”
“Why, Dmitri, I’m impressed. I didn’t think you had such cunning in you.”
“I never dreamed it would actually work! It had been merely a stab in the dark.”
“Well, it did work, and now your daughter will soon be presented to the royal family.”
“I wonder if the tsar expects me to present her?”
“You’re her father, aren’t you?”
“My name wasn’t mentioned.”
“That’s the least of your worries, my dear son.”
“Worries? In my mind, I thought this would end most of my worries. Fifteen minutes ago, I called up Alexsie Kozen—you know, the banker. He’s been tighter with money than a poor muszhik’s lapti. I tried for a loan a few weeks ago and he refused; he said the house was mortgaged to the hilt and I simply had no more collateral. Today, I casually mentioned my daughter’s good fortune, just to see what might happen. Well, of course, he’s heard—the St. Petersburg gossips haven’t failed me yet! And guess what? He is going to extend me a five-thousand ruble line of credit. That ought to keep me—that is, us—in business for a while.”
Eugenia was not impressed. She had more important matters to consider. “Money isn’t everything, Dmitri. Someday Kozen—and who knows who else—is going to expect you to pay back all those loans of yours. Then what? I’m more concerned with future security. What if Princess Yalena decides not to marry you? You’re old enough to be her father, you know. In fact, come to think of it, I do believe her father is a year or two younger than you. Do you really think you can snag such a girl?”
“I have snagged her, my dear Mama!” Dmitri grinned like a love-struck schoolboy.
“What!”
“Lovely Yalena has all but agreed to my ardent marriage proposal.”
“‘All but’?”
“She wants to wait for an official engagement until her brother returns from war. They are quite close—”
“Her father approves?”
“Two years ago Yalena’s heart was broken when her fiancé was killed in a yachting accident. They were deeply in love, and she mourned him intensely. She almost joined a convent. Her father is so happy she has had a change of heart that he’d be the last to stand in our way.”
“So, it doesn’t bother him that you don’t love her, and are just after her money.”
“Mother! I am appalled! I love her as I have not loved a woman since Katrina.”
“Is that so?”
“Well . . . almost as much. Men my age are not expected to fall in love in that way any longer. But I care for her deeply, I truly do. I would do anything for her.”
“In return for which, she shall finance your luxurious lifestyle.”
“I didn’t think you could be so crass, Mother.”
“I’m not complaining, mind you. It’ll be a nice change to have another woman pay your way. But I don’t much like what the gossipmongers are saying.”
“Forget them! They’ll bite their wagging tongues now that we have the ear of the tsar.”
Eugenia smiled. The conversation had come full circle, back to where she wanted it. Let her son do with his life what he wished; it was too late to help him. Mariana was another matter.
“Mariana is not even sure she wants to see the tsar,” said Eugenia.
“Nerves. She’ll get over it.”
“As I hope she will get over her silly infatuation with that American.”
“Don’t start on that again, Mother.”
“You don’t care if she ruins her life?”
“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again—I like the fellow. And I still can’t see how marriage to him would ruin her life. Besides the fact that they love each other, Mariana will never have a financial worry again. The Trents are quite wealthy, Mama.”
“Money, money, money! Is that all you think of?”
“What else is there?”
“Have you ever thought about your daughter’s eternal soul? Have you considered the fact that this American is not Orthodox? Will you have your daughter marry outside the Church?”
Dmitri’s bright enthusiasm faded. In fact, he had never considered this. Spiritual matters were the furthest thing from his mind. He lately had tried to patronize Yalena, to whom such things were important, but basically he was far too pragmatic to be mystical. Yet the Church was a different matter altogether. He never attended, except at Christmas and Easter, but neither would he dare ignore the external forms of religion. When he married Yalena, it would be in the Church; if they had children, they would be properly baptized into the Church; when he died, he would expect Last Rites, and a proper Orthodox funeral. To do otherwise simply never dawned on him. The thought that his daughter’s marriage might not be recognized by the Church, implying that she’d be living in sin—well, it was distressing at best, staggering at worst.
Eugenia knew from his speechlessness that she had him. She repressed a triumphant grin.
“What do you plan on doing about it, Dmitri?”
“Must we do anything right now?” asked Dmitri, lamely, hopefully. “I mean, the last Mariana heard from young Trent, he had been captured as a spy. You know what they do to spies, Mama. I hate to say it, but our young man may already be out of the picture.”
“And if not?”
“Oh, let’s not worry about it now. I don’t want to ruin this wonderful time. Who knows? After this audience with the tsar, many eligible men will be introduced to Mariana. She may change her mind on her own.”
Eugenia shrugged. She couldn’t count on Dmitri for anything sensible. He forgot that many handsome men had already been paying court to Mariana, and she had snubbed them all. But Eugenia said no more. She had planted the proper seeds for now. She would keep pressing the issue of religion, and when—or if—the time came she would be in a very strong position to thwart a marriage not befitting a family of their station in Russian nobility.
But Dmitri
was right about one thing—perhaps that awful American would never return. Then all their problems would be over, indeed.
61
Mariana finally decided to accept the tsar’s invitation only when Viktor suggested that the audience might greatly help her papa Sergei’s situation. She reluctantly allowed herself to get caught up in her father’s enthusiasm; it would not have been proper to appear before the royal family glum and depressed, worried over the uncertainty of her dear Daniel’s disposition. It helped a little when Dmitri, who had knowledge of such things, assured her that it was unlikely the Japanese would execute an American citizen.
“And he is a Trent, you know,” her father assured her. “If anything happened to him, it might cause an international incident. The Japanese are in no position to risk war with America.”
Mariana had never thought much about the importance of Daniel’s family. He hardly ever mentioned it. She wondered if her father might be exaggerating a little. But it was something to hang on to, and a reason for hope.
The preparations for the big day helped take her mind from her worries. She let the beautiful new dress cheer her. Again, Eugenia outdid herself, proving her taste impeccable, and Mariana showed her good sense in letting her grandmother have her way. Eugenia knew that white was in fashion, especially for afternoon wear, and she chose a filmy white gauze with soft gathers in the skirt, three rows of horizontal tucks above the hem, elbow-length sleeves with the bodice and long basque of broderie anglaise. A blue sash at the waist was clasped with silk roses. Mariana’s hair was pinned up, and she wore a wide-brimmed hat decorated with ostrich feathers and chiffon.
The Russians Collection Page 182