‘Yes, sir, thank you, sir.’
Alexei brushed himself down.
‘You’re making yourself look like a chimney sweep,’ Ruth warned.
Alexei glanced over his shoulder. When he was sure only Vlad, Alf, and Ruth were within earshot, he murmured, ‘Have any of you picked up any rumours as to who’s responsible for the fire?’
‘That depends on who you talk to.’ Like Alexei, Vlad lowered his voice. ‘The Cossacks are blaming the Jews.’
‘Unsurprising, but it makes no sense. Why would the Cossacks reason that the Jews set fire to their own shtetl?’ Ruth demanded.
‘The Cossacks are saying that the Jews are angry over Mr Hughes’s decision to move their shtetl from its original location.’
‘That’s ridiculous,’ Ruth asserted. ‘The Jews have been generously compensated by the New Russia Company for the move.’
‘You know that, and I know that, but perhaps the Cossacks don’t,’ Alexei pointed out logically.
‘The few Jews I spoke to in the hospital blame the civilian Cossacks and Mujiks. They say the Russians burned down the Jewish quarter to punish the Jews and Mr Hughes for giving the Jews preferential treatment,’ Alf revealed.
‘And the Welsh?’ Alexei enquired caustically.
‘They wanted to burn the town so they could go home.’
‘You’re joking?’ Alexei challenged Alf.
‘I wish I was but you haven’t heard the craziest rumour.’ Alf smiled and his teeth showed white against his grimy face. ‘Mr Hughes set the fires so he could claim the insurance money.’
‘In other words, no one has any idea who’s responsible and gossip is raging wilder than the flames last night, and probably twice as destructively.’ Alexei reached for Ruth’s hand. ‘Let’s find out if anyone in the shtetl is talking sense.’
Chapter Eight
Catherine Ignatova’s house
September 1871
‘Did you two catch up on your sleep this morning?’ Catherine asked Sonya and Roman as they ate a light lunch in her dining room.
‘I managed an hour after Mr Hughes’s managers’ meeting. I could have slept longer but I knew that if I stayed in bed I’d be awake tonight. Thank you, Boris,’ Roman took a bowl of cranberry kisel and honey mousse dessert from Catherine’s butler.
‘What about you, Sonya?’ Catherine asked.
‘About the same, but I’m not in the least tired. I didn’t do anything physical, like the men. I only helped out with teas and dressings in the hospital.’
‘You were still awake,’ Roman pointed out.
‘After losing an entire night’s sleep you should both rest this afternoon,’ Catherine advised.
‘Before the fire Mr Hughes asked me to look over the town and give him my thoughts on the way the construction work is progressing. Now the fire has given the New Russia Company a more or less clear field to build on in some areas, Mr Hughes asked me to report on the development as soon as possible so he can lay down sound, well thought-out plans for the future rather than allow people to build wherever they like.’
‘I don’t envy you your task,’ Catherine commented. ‘The Mujiks have always dug their homes underground with little thought to the convenience of, or proximity to, their neighbours.’
‘That’s something I’m all too aware of, given my experience with the peasants on my own estates. However, as Mr Hughes and everyone who works for the New Russia Company will be busy inspecting the fire damage, I would appreciate Miss Tsetovna’s company, knowledge, expertise, and guidance.’ He smiled at Sonya, ‘that’s if you are free, Miss Tsetovna, and have no objection to accompanying and guiding me around Hughesovka?’
‘Sonya?’ Catherine asked.
‘A carriage ride in the fresh air might be just what I need. No exertion and pleasant conversation.’
‘I’ll ask Boris to order a carriage. Ivan can drive you. Don’t forget to take Maria. You’ll need a chaperone. I’d go with you myself if I didn’t have a prior engagement. I’m expecting my carriage to be brought around at any moment.’
‘Maria has taken to her bed with a headache,’ Sonya divulged. ‘I think it’s shock. She was furious when she heard that I was out most of last night. She didn’t see my sacrifice of a night’s sleep as in the least heroic. I told her I’d driven into town with Igor and Lyudmila and I spent all my time with the nurses in the hospital but she still disapproved. I’m afraid I’m a terrible disappointment to her.’
Catherine smiled. ‘That sounded just like one of my daughter’s rants when Maria tried to chaperone her. Olga was a disappointment to Maria as well, and unlike you Olga had no headstrong ideas about wanting to work, as opposed to being purely ornamental. I’m afraid that like most convent-educated ladies’ maids, Maria has very strict ideas when it comes to a lady’s behaviour and what is and isn’t permissible. Leave Maria in bed and take Lyudmila. She’s always complaining that she never has an opportunity to leave the kitchen.’
‘I really am getting too old to have a chaperone, Aunt Catherine,’ Sonya protested.
‘You’ll have one as long as you’re under my roof and remain unmarried, Sonya,’ Catherine countered.
‘Even when I’m sixty?’
‘Especially when you’re sixty. Everyone knows how wild old ladies can be. Now, if you’ll excuse me.’
Catherine rose from the table and Roman and Sonya followed out of deference. Roman folded his napkin and dropped it on to his plate. ‘Thank you for an excellent lunch, Catherine.’
‘Thank Lyudmila when she joins you. She’s my cook. Boris will see to the carriage.’
Catherine glanced at her butler who nodded. ‘My pleasure, madam.’
‘What time would you like it brought round to the front of the house, Roman?’
‘I can be ready in ten minutes, but if Miss Tsetovna would like more time, there is no hurry.’
‘Ten minutes will be fine, Prince Roman.’ Sonya crossed the hall.
‘You’ll ask Lyudmila to act as chaperone, Boris?’
‘Of course, madam’
Boris loaded the uneaten kisel and mousse on to a tray and carried it out. Roman stood in the doorway and watched Sonya walk up the stairs. There was a strange expression on his face that Catherine couldn’t decipher.
He turned suddenly, and saw Catherine watching him. ‘I was admiring the fig tree in the hall. I’m surprised to see it flourishing. I would have thought the temperature would drop too low for it to thrive so close to the door in winter.’
‘We take care to move all the delicate plants into the hot houses before winter bites. The fig tree will be moved in the next day or two. You’ll take care not to tire Sonya?’
‘I’ll see that she doesn’t over-exert herself, Catherine. Until later?’
‘Yes, until later,’ she repeated.
Catherine watched him run up the stairs. Roman was wealthy as tsars counted wealth. Sonya’s two million roubles were not insignificant, but they hardly put her in the same class as the aristocratic St Petersburg and Moscow heiresses from the upper circle of society that Roman moved in.
He couldn’t possibly be interested in her niece.
Could he?
Madam Koshka’s salon
September 1871
Adele reached the door of Madam Koshka’s private rooms and took a moment to compose herself. In the six years she’d worked in madam’s salons, both in Moscow and Hughesovka, she could recall only a few occasions when madam had interviewed girls privately. And then only for one of two reasons: a serious complaint from a client, or confirmation of bad news from one of the routine medical tests madam paid a doctor to carry out on a weekly basis.
Summoning her courage she knocked the door.
Koshka opened it herself. She was alone and dressed in widow’s weeds. Her voluminous dress was high-necked with long sleeves, designed to disguise rather than reveal her figure, and her bonnet had a black lace veil that could be unpinned and dropped to conceal her feature
s.
‘You wanted to see me, madam?’
‘I do, Adele. Thank you for coming so promptly. Excuse me for continuing to dress but I have an appointment and don’t wish to be late.’ Koshka picked up a pair of black kid gloves and proceeded to pull them on using a silver glove stretcher. ‘Please sit down. I’m sorry I can’t offer you coffee but as I said, I’m on my way out.’
If Adele hadn’t known better she would have said madam was uncharacteristically disconcerted, but as the fire had decimated the town and destroyed the homes of so many people, she presumed madam was concerned about the effect the conflagration would have on business.
‘I want to ask you some personal questions. I have good reason to pry, Adele, which I’m not at liberty to explain, because other people are involved. Please don’t read anything into my enquiries that isn’t intended.’
Adele couldn’t stand the suspense of not knowing the reason for the interview a moment longer. ‘You are unhappy with my work, madam?’
‘I’m delighted to have someone as kind, friendly, and professional as you in my house, Adele. I hope you are as happy here as I am to have you.’
Adele smiled, but didn’t lower her guard. ‘I am happy to be here, madam,’ she replied cautiously.
‘I want to ask you about Prince Roman Nadolny. You have entertained him several times?’
Adele was surprised. Madam had very few inflexible rules, but never discussing clients, their foibles, or revealing any indiscreet revelations confided during passionate moments, was one of them. ‘As you must know, madam, I have entertained the prince on several occasions both here and in Moscow.’
‘Do you like him?’
‘As a client? Very much. He is kind, gentle, and always gives me a small present in addition to what he pays the house for my services.’
Koshka finally finished buttoning up her gloves and returned the glove stretcher to a drawer. ‘You keep his presents to you, above what he pays the house, confidential between the two of you?’
‘I never discuss the presents I receive from any of my clients with the other girls, madam.’
‘I’m glad to hear it. Revelations about “presents”, especially generous ones, can lead to jealousy and jealousy inevitably leads to discord. As I’ve said, I have my reasons for asking these questions. Please bear with me because I can offer you no explanation other than to say your answers to my questions are vitally important to me – and will remain strictly private. You say the prince is kind and gentle. Has he made any peculiar or distasteful requests of you?’
‘No, madam.’
‘Has he ever hurt you, even inadvertently?’
‘Never, madam. He has always treated me with the utmost respect, which as you know is not the case with all our clients. He takes the time to converse amusingly, and is as mindful of my pleasure as his own.’
‘Then you regard him as a favourite client.’
‘The favourite, madam, and not just because of the presents he gives me.’
‘Thank you, that’s all I wanted to know, Adele. As I explained, I have my own reasons for asking about the prince. Suffice to say he has another life outside of my salon. The questions I asked you are pertinent to that. When we women step out of the public world into the shadowy world of the salon, we can never return to our old lives, whereas men can, and do, move easily between the two.’
‘I knew that when I entered your salon for the first time, madam.’
‘You have never regretted your choice?’
Adele shrugged her perfectly formed shoulders. ‘I made a choice that enables me to live in luxury. It is infinitely preferable to my sister’s life. She married a poor but respectable farmer and is pregnant with her fourteenth child.’
‘You help her?’
‘With money, occasionally,’ Adele admitted.
‘You don’t visit her?’
‘As you just said, madam, when it comes to the world of the salon, only men can move freely between it and the world of respectability.’
‘You’re a good girl, Adele. Thank you. I want you to know how much I value you, not just for your work, but your personality and the respect you show to everyone in this house. Please don’t ever refer to this conversation again. I will ask Fritz to put all the money Prince Roman has paid to the house for your services since he reached Hughesovka into your account. You will also receive all the future payments the prince makes for your company.’
‘Thank you, madam, that is very generous. You want me to keep entertaining him?’
‘Whenever he asks for you. Ensure that he has a very good time, as you always do.’
‘Yes, madam.’
‘We will never speak of this again.’ Koshka opened the door and dropped her veil. Adele curtsied and left the room before her.
Hotel Hughesovka
September 1871
Catherine was waiting in the suite she’d hired when her visitor arrived dressed in deepest mourning, her hair and face concealed by a lace veil.
Catherine rose and embraced her. ‘As you see, I ordered tea, wine, and cake. What would you like?’
‘Tea please and if that’s Krendel, the thinnest of thin slices. I haven’t tasted it since my last birthday but at my age I only have to look at a piece of cake to put four inches on my hips.’
Catherine laughed, ‘You’re exaggerating as usual, you have the figure of a young girl.’
‘It’s good of you to say so, Catherine, even if it’s not true.’
‘I asked Boris to book this suite as soon as I received your note this morning. It sounded urgent. I made enquiries about your house. I was told that it wasn’t affected by the fire, but if it was you could always move in with me…’
‘No, it wasn’t damaged,’ Koshka reassured Catherine. ‘But if it had been, my girls and I would have taken refuge elsewhere. If the hotel couldn’t accommodate us we would have moved into the stables if no other place was available. We couldn’t possibly move in with a respectable widow. Most certainly not one who is hosting Mr Hughes and Prince Roman Nadolny.’
‘They are both broad-minded – and busy. Roman is here as a representative of Grand Duke Konstantin who has financial interests in the New Russia Company.’
‘So I’ve heard. I’ve also heard that the Grand Duke is constantly fending off the petitions of those who are conspiring to thwart John Hughes’s industrialization of the Donbas.’
‘There appear to be as many short-sighted people in Russia anxious to derail the building of the ironworks as there are to support it,’ Catherine observed. ‘Although as John is acting in accordance with the Tsar’s blessing as well as his commission, I doubt they’ll succeed in stopping the march of progress. Not with men like the Grand Duke and Roman watching the backs of the investors in the New Russia Company.’
‘Roman’s a good man,’ Koshka conceded. ‘But then if you didn’t know that you wouldn’t have him in your house. And, of course, you knew his father.’
‘As did you, E –’
‘Koshka, please, Catherine.’
‘We are alone. We never see one another in company so I am unlikely to slip up publicly.’
‘But we might not find ourselves alone one day. I suppose Roman is resting after spending most of the night firefighting?’ Koshka went to the window and looked down at the street below.
‘No, John asked him to look over the town and give his opinion on the way it’s developing now he has the opportunity to rebuild in some areas from scratch. Roman invited Sonya to act as his guide. Chaperoned, of course.’
Koshka took the glass of tea Catherine had poured for her and settled in the chair opposite her. ‘Roman visited me yesterday evening. In fact he and several of my guests left my house to fight the fire as soon as it broke out.’
‘I trust some of the more highly strung wives in Hughesovka didn’t notice the direction their husbands came from.’ Catherine cut two wafer-thin slices of cake.
‘Earlier in the evening Roman confided
to me that he intends to ask Sonya to marry him.’
Catherine was speechless for a moment. ‘But Sonya’s only just eighteen…’
‘You and I were both married at sixteen, Catherine,’ Koshka reminded.
‘Times are different now. And, thanks to your generosity, Sonya is an independent young woman.’ Catherine forgot she was serving the cake and sank back in her chair.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shock you.’
‘What do you think of Roman’s offer?’ Catherine asked. ‘After all you are Sonya’s mother…’
‘I gave up all rights to Sonya when I handed her to you when she was three months old.’ Koshka lowered her eyes so Catherine wouldn’t see the pain that hadn’t dissipated or dimmed with the passage of years. ‘I asked to see you because I wanted your opinion of the match. You brought Sonya up, you know her better than anyone. Both she and Roman are living under your roof. You’ve seen them together.’
‘I saw Roman looking at Sonya this morning. I did wonder…’
‘What?’ Koshka pressed when Catherine didn’t elaborate.
‘What he was thinking.’
‘Does he love her?’ Koshka asked.
‘I don’t believe so, but there was an expression in his eyes I couldn’t fathom. If he does love Sonya, he hides it well. Did he tell you that he loves her?’ Catherine asked.
‘He never once mentioned love. If you’d asked me about Roman a few months ago I would have said that like his father, the man is imbued with charm but emotionally stunted and cold. It’s not surprising, given his history. His mother died when he was five. His father, never the most demonstrative of men, packed him off to an English boarding school when he was seven and rarely bothered to visit him more than once a year. If it hadn’t been for Grand Duke Konstantin taking Roman into his own family after his father died when he was sixteen, the boy would have had only his servants for company. It was Konstantin who guided Roman’s education and insisted the boy study at Oxford and Heidelberg universities. Roman’s manners are impeccable, his education extensive, his culture beyond question. His wealth, pedigree, and Grand Duke Konstantin’s patronage have brought him connections and influence in every sphere of life in Europe, Russia, and indeed the world as we recognise it. He’s thoughtful and considerate to his friends. Everyone who knows him thinks well of him, but…’
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