When there was still no answer, frustration consumed him and he kicked the door. “Okay! Be that way. You can’t say I didn’t try.”
He strode to his bed, took off his dressing gown, pulled back the covers, and flopped into bed. He wasn’t going to lose any sleep over her—she didn’t deserve it. She had no right treating him in this way. He yanked up his covers, turned off the bedside light, rolled over, and closed his eyes.
But he didn’t sleep.
56
Katya lay in her bed for ten minutes weeping. She heard Yuri knock and call to her. She wanted him desperately. Yet she could not bring herself to answer. How could she invite him in when she couldn’t give him what he wanted, what was his right as a husband to have? It only made it worse that she knew Yuri would not demand intimacy, that he would be patient with her as he always was.
Maybe if she could just talk to him.
But what if that didn’t help? What if, by that concession, she raised his hopes only to realize that she still could not be with him? What if she could never be with him again?
Oh, God, she wept, what am I to do?
Just when she thought her life had finally started going right, when she believed happiness was possible, everything had crumbled once more. She would have been better off never to have let Yuri into her life—they both would have been better off. She should have kept to her resolve to live her life alone, just her and Irina. It had been foolish to take the risk she had. Why couldn’t she have left well enough alone?
Why, indeed?
Because she had ached for love. Was that so wrong?
Yuri had loved her in all the ways she had longed for, and she had known his love was truly eternal. He would never run out on her or turn cold on her. He assured her of that constantly. Yet she was always a little afraid of that happening—and maybe that fear would never leave.
Yes, she longed for love—and she feared it, too.
Wasn’t that enough of a burden? Why did God have to inflict upon her another one as well? It was bad enough to fear receiving love, now she must fear giving it also.
Where was the God of love and compassion? Why was He toying with her so?
She tried to think of the things she’d heard others say about God—Father Grigori, Anna, Teddie. But her mind went suddenly blank, as if her spirit was a vast, empty vacuum. All she could think of was that she had somewhere gone terribly wrong. It had to be her fault. It couldn’t be God’s. But what had she done wrong? Did she have to be punished for the rest of her life for her one mistake? Grigori had told her something about pride. What was it?
Dismally shaking her head, she happened to glance at the clock on the mantel. Was it only nine o’clock? It felt as if hours had passed since Yuri had come to her room, and it hadn’t even been half an hour. Suddenly she remembered that Olga had invited her to come to the starets home tonight—at this very hour. She knew he kept late hours. And he often received visitors late in the evening. If he went out for the evening, it was usually not until after ten at least.
Why am I thinking about this now?
But the answer was clear. She had fought it long enough. She had been the obedient wife, and her life was in as much of a shambles as it had been four years ago when she had almost committed suicide. Did it really matter if Yuri would be furious at her? Could he possibly be more angry?
Father Grigori had helped her once. Maybe if she had gone to him sooner, her marriage—her life—would not have turned so disastrously. Perhaps he could help her. He could pray for her. Perhaps there was still hope for her marriage—if Grigori prayed for her. She might find the courage to risk being with Yuri again. And more than that, Grigori might also make it so her body could be able to carry another child.
She jumped from her bed and quickly dressed. Then she went to the maid’s room next door.
“Helga, go quickly and find the chauffeur and tell him to get the car ready. I’ll be going out.”
“Alone, madam?”
Katya started to flare at that question and its impudent implication, then she answered more calmly than she felt, “What is that to you? Just do as I say.”
“Yes, madam.”
The girl scurried away, and Katya returned to her room to get her heavy coat and muff. It had been snowing all day and was freezing outside. As she turned to leave her room, she noticed the rose Yuri had given her. It had fallen on the floor. She picked it up and brought it to her lips, kissing it and laying it tenderly on the daybed.
Yuri, dear, what have I done to you?
Her resolve deepened as she walked quietly down the hall with only a brief glance at the door to Yuri’s room. He had never liked the idea of separate rooms. Perhaps when she returned from her errand, she would be able to make up for her previous behavior.
Oh, Father Grigori, you must help me. If you can’t, I don’t know what I’ll do.
At number 64 Gorokhavaya Street, she had the driver stop. The usual horde of people was lined up in front of Rasputin’s building and up the stairs that led to his flat. Even at this hour there were fifty or sixty people of every kind and class, all hoping to see the starets, to ask for some boon or favor. Like it or not, Rasputin was one of the most influential people in the country now. He had the ear of the tsar. If he asked for something, it was bound to happen. At least those who braved the freezing night hoped so.
Katya confidently walked past the line to the front door. She was obviously a lady of quality and no one really expected her to wait with the hordes. The maid, Rasputin’s only servant, opened the door.
“Countess Zhenechka—”
“It is Princess Fedorcenko, now, Akulina.”
“Oh yes, I am sorry.”
“May I see Father Grigori?”
“Well . . .”
“It’s urgent, Akulina.”
“I . . . I’ll see . . .” The maid turned back into the flat, then paused. “Please come in, Princess. Forgive my rudeness.”
The girl seemed hesitant, reluctant. But Katya was too desperate to heed that or to care. She followed the maid into the flat and was directed into the parlor as Akulina went to find Rasputin. There were several women already in the parlor. All were ladies of quality like Katya, of varying ages. Some were chatting quietly together, others were sitting, not interacting, seemingly absorbed in their problems. Olga said there was always a group of women in Grigori’s flat. They were very much like a sewing circle, only here, instead of sewing, they fawned on the priest, ministering to him in any way they could while listening to his wisdom. Katya had sometimes envied Olga that camaraderie she had with the other women. Perhaps now I will join them on a regular basis, Katya told herself.
Katya greeted the women she knew in the group, then sat in a vacant chair and waited.
Soon there were voices outside the parlor. One was obviously Father Grigori’s.
“Another time, child, eh?” he said.
“I don’t know why I must wait,” replied a woman’s voice.
“I am not my own man, Countess. I cannot shun the urgent needs of others.”
The parlor door opened. Grigori looked in. Behind him, the countess put her arms around him.
“Oh, Grigori . . . don’t make me wait!”
“Be off with you now. Come back tomorrow afternoon. Emergencies don’t usually happen in the daylight.”
She hesitated a moment, then let go and walked away, buttoning the top buttons of her tunic as she left. But all that took only an instant, and in the next moment, Grigori saw Katya and grinned.
“Ah, Katichka! I knew you would come to me,” Rasputin said.
“Father Grigori, I should have called first perhaps?”
“Nonsense. You are always welcome in my home.”
“Thank you, Father.”
He took her hand. “Come with me so we can be alone.”
“But the others—” She glanced at the other women, knowing they wouldn’t be happy about her receiving preferential treatment. But she
was too desperate to argue strenuously on their behalf.
“They can be patient,” he said. “Eh, ladies? An exercise in patience is good for the soul. And this is an emergency.”
He led her from the parlor through the dining room, where there were a few more women sipping tea around the big table. And then to his bedroom. When she hesitated at the door, he smiled benignly at her.
“Do not fear, little one,” he said. “Can I do anything but purify you? Surely you don’t wish to discuss personal matters within the hearing of others?”
Katya followed him. After all, she had been in this room when Father Grigori had been ill. It did appear to be the only place in the five-room flat where there would be privacy, and she certainly did not want to discuss her intimate marital problems in front of others. The bedroom was filled with the odor of incense from the candles that burned before the icons in the Beautiful Corner. It made her feel a bit more comfortable, for it gave her the secure sense of being in a church.
There was, however, only the bed to sit on.
She sat, somewhat stiffly, on the edge, then said, “Father, you said you knew I would come. What did you mean?”
“The time of your confinement is over, isn’t it?” She was surprised that he was privy to such information. But no doubt Olga had confided to the man her worries about Katya. She nodded. “I feared it would be hard for you.”
“What am I to do, Grigori? I’m so afraid!”
He sat on the bed next to her, quite close, and put his arm around her. “Katichka, you must trust me.”
“Yes, Father . . .”
“Will you do whatever must be done to find healing?” He focused his gaze on her, and she could not help but lift her eyes to meet his. And the intensity of his eyes, as in the past, held her.
“Yes, Father Grigori.”
“Make any sacrifice?”
She only nodded, her mouth suddenly too dry to speak.
“What an innocent you are, little one!” He caressed her cheek with his hand. “So beautiful, so innocent.”
She swallowed and managed to say, “I thought I lost my innocence four years ago.”
“You lost your virginity, then, dear one, not your innocence. That is why I held back—your innocence touched me so. But it is time for us—yes, both of us—to make the supreme sacrifice.”
“What is that?” she breathed, every word an effort as she became more and more lost in the power of his gaze.
He lay his hand on her thigh, gently caressing her as he spoke. She tried to ignore the discomfiture this caused in her. After all, he was a man of God and must be judged by a different standard from other men. There must be a higher purpose to whatever he did.
“It is time to get rid of your pride,” he said.
“Will that give me peace?”
“It’s the only way.”
“How . . . do I do that?”
“Come to me, Katichka, I will help you.” His other arm encircled her, and he kissed her head as he had often done in the past. “You must yield to the will of God, dear one. Only then will you find peace. Don’t you want to be close to God? Don’t you want to find His peace? How can you draw near to God if you do not repent? But how can you repent if you have not first sinned?”
“But I have sinned, Father.”
“Not enough to break your prideful spirit. The more you sin, the more opportunity for repentance.”
His breath now came in quick pants as if he were in a race. She felt her own heartbeat quicken, too. She could not quite identify the colliding emotions within her, but they weren’t all pleasant. She thought of rumors she’d heard of the starets taking women into his bedroom and seducing them. And, regardless of what Grigori had said about her innocence, she had been around men enough to not be completely ignorant of these things.
Yet wasn’t Grigori just trying to help her? He must know what he was doing. What if by running away she spoiled forever her chance for healing? What if she only had to submit to him to find peace, to find happiness at last with her husband? Grigori was a man of God. He should know, shouldn’t he?
A voice inside her head said, “No! Fight it.” But she couldn’t make herself obey that voice. Not only was she confused, but she was also physically unable to make herself move. She suddenly felt sapped of strength, of will. There was only Grigori, his eyes bidding her to submit, his lips speaking words of God.
His kisses became more intense and soon found their way down her neck.
“Love me, child,” he murmured. “Love me as the woman who anointed Jesus loved Him and gave her all for Him.”
“I . . . I don’t . . . know . . .”
“Don’t let your pride keep you from God.”
His hands moved over her in ways she knew only a husband should touch a woman. But she was so weak.
“Please, Father . . .” She tried to protest, but even she could barely hear her own weak voice.
“I must have you now!” He groped for her clothes.
“No!”
57
Yuri didn’t know why he even pretended to sleep. It was a ridiculous ruse. He’d not sleep until he could see Katya and make her talk to him. He wanted to understand her, help her. But he couldn’t do that from his bed. Somehow he had to make her see him. He didn’t care if he had to wake the entire household. This wasn’t the time for reserve, not when his marriage, his very life hung in the balance.
He jumped out of bed and once more threw on his dressing gown, but this time with an iron will. He would not return to his room until he and Katya had talked.
He pounded on the adjoining door, and when there was no response, he went into the outer corridor and started pounding on the door that faced that hall.
“Katya!” he yelled. “I know you can’t be sleeping.”
He had never before entered her room without a welcome from her, so he didn’t try the doorknob at first. Besides, in all likelihood it was locked also. Then his desperation got the better of him, and to his surprise, when he turned the latch, the door opened.
“Katya, forgive me for coming unbidden, but I didn’t know what else—”
Only then did he see her bed was empty. His first thought was that she had gone to the kitchen for tea, and he quickly left the room with the intention of going there also. But his yelling and pounding had aroused the attention of the servants. Katya’s maid and two footmen had come running.
“Your Excellency!” said one of the footmen, out of breath and obviously distraught. “What is it?”
Yuri was suddenly embarrassed to have his marital discord brought to such public attention.
“Well . . . I . . . uh . . . nothing really.” Then he added lamely, “I just wanted to see if the princess would join me for a cup of tea.”
Both footmen raised their eyebrows skeptically but said nothing. The maid, however, said, “I didn’t think Her Highness would be back so soon.”
“Back?”
“She had me order up the motorcar for her about half an hour ago.”
“Where did she go?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
At that moment Teddie joined the group. “What’s wrong? I heard yelling and thought maybe a revolution was starting.”
“It’s nothing, Teddie.” Yuri sighed, adding, “Do you know where Katya might have gone?”
“I didn’t know she had gone anywhere. Usually she tells me if she is leaving in case there are instructions about Irina.”
“I know . . . I believe she left suddenly.” Yuri glanced awkwardly at the servants. “You may go,” he told them. But to Teddie, he said, “Please stay. I’d like to talk with you a moment.”
“Yes, sir.”
The others hurried away, no doubt glad not to be involved in what appeared to be a delicate situation.
Yuri turned to the nurse. “Teddie, Katya was upset. I’m afraid she was extremely distraught. We . . . that is, I think we had an argument.”
“You think, sir?”
“I think you probably know as well as I, Prince Yuri.”
“Why would she go to him? She promised me she wouldn’t. Why can’t she talk to me? God knows, I’ve tried to be understanding. I’ve tried to talk to her. But she won’t tell me what’s wrong. She thinks I should know. But, blast it all! I don’t know!”
“If you would like to talk about it, Prince Yuri, I will listen, and perhaps I know Katya well enough to help.”
“It’s all so terribly personal. But . . . yes, help me, Teddie.”
Teddie led Yuri into Katya’s room and they sat, Teddie on the chair by the dressing table and Yuri on the daybed. Yuri idly picked up the rose from where Katya had laid it, fingering it tenderly and sadly as he spoke. “Teddie, she refused me tonight,” he blurted out, hoping he wouldn’t have to go into further detail. Teddie nodded as if she understood, so he continued, “I don’t know what I did. She was very upset.”
“Have you considered, sir, that it is not something you did, but rather something within Katya that . . . holds her back?”
“Do you think . . . ?” Yuri felt almost relieved at this new idea. “But why won’t she talk to me about it?”
“My poor Katya has always been so afraid of being close to people.”
“But isn’t she close to you, Teddie?”
“More than anyone else, I suppose, but not always on such a deep level. I’ve tried, but I am too much like a mama to her.”
“Well, if she chooses Rasputin over those who truly love her, then there really isn’t anything to be done about it.”
“Do you actually believe that, Prince Yuri?”
Yuri shrugged, confused.
“In a way, Rasputin is safe. She knows he won’t reject her. And even if he did, I doubt it would hurt as much as if you turned away from her.”
“But I’ve told her a hundred times I wouldn’t do that. What must I do to prove myself to her?”
“I don’t know what it will take, dear boy. Persistence, patience—and you have shown all those. I suppose you just need to show more. I know it is a hard thing to ask of one as young as you are—”
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