‘Only that my father is Aunt Catherine’s brother. I don’t remember him. He’s ill with tuberculosis and has spent most of his life in a Moscow hospital for contagious diseases. My mother died when I was a baby.’
‘So neither of us knows what it is to grow up with a loving mother.’
‘I had Aunt Catherine. No mother could have been kinder or more loving.’
‘I stand corrected, and I would never try to come between you. I wish I had been fortunate enough to possess such an aunt. All I’m asking of you is that you consider my offer. I don’t believe I’m difficult to live with. I’ll freely admit to as many of my faults as I’m aware of. I love travelling, I’m impetuous and apt to leave countries and houses at a moment’s notice but as I’ve already said. I employ enough servants to do my packing and clear up after me. I’m fond of wine and vodka, but I know my limits. I gamble, but again I know my limits, and the last time I checked the record I keep of my card losses, I was actually fifteen hundred roubles up on my original outlay of five years ago. I enjoy working so I seek employment although I don’t have to. Also,’ he lifted her gloved hand to his lips, ‘I’d be more than happy for the right woman to mould me into her idea of the perfect man.’
She looked up at him. The one thing he hadn’t mentioned was love. But that was hardly surprising when he’d guessed what she’d believed was her deepest and most private secret regarding Nathan.
‘You’ll consider my proposal?’
‘I’ll consider it,’ she reiterated, ‘but please, promise me that you won’t tell my aunt or anyone else that you’ve made it.’
‘It will remain our secret until you give me an answer, one way or the other.’
‘Thank you.’
She felt odd. She’d received her first proposal of marriage. An important milestone in any girl’s life. She knew she should feel elated, but all she could think of was Nathan.
If he’d been the one to ask her to become his wife she would have danced all the way back to her aunt’s house. But as Roman had just reminded her that could never be.
Instead, she allowed Roman to lead her back to the carriage.
Alexei and Ruth’s banya
September 1871
‘I’m beginning to wonder if I’ll ever feel clean again,’ Alexei scrubbed his forearms as Ruth scrubbed his back.
‘I shouldn’t even be bathing. No one should while they’re in shiva…’ She choked back her tears.
Alexei turned and wiped Ruth’s eyes with his fingers. ‘You couldn’t possibly carry on looking like a bear that’s rolled in ashes for however long shiva lasts.’
‘Shiva’s only the first stage of mourning. Nathan and I should sit in Uncle Asher and Aunt Leah’s house. It is written that, "Where a person lived there does his spirit continue to dwell." Their presence will still linger there and we should be there to pay homage to them.’
‘They won’t be in their house, angel, because most of it has burned down.’
‘That makes their death worse. All their possessions, the furnishings I grew up with. All the things they valued, Aunt Leah’s photographs and embroidered clothes. Uncle Asher’s books and wood-carvings…’ The tears Ruth had held in check all afternoon finally began to fall.
He wrapped his arms around her. ‘Cry it out, angel. Emotion should never be bottled up inside the body.’
‘This can’t be easy for you either,’ she whispered hoarsely. ‘It’s not long since you lost your mother and sisters.’
‘Which is why I know how you feel.’ He rubbed her arms with his hands. ‘Come closer, you’re freezing.’
Her eyes were dark, brimming with anguish and grief. ‘Make love to me.’
‘What? You don’t know what you’re saying, you’re grief-stricken…’
‘Which is why I want you to make love to me. I want to live with every particle of my body and my being. I want to – I need to – know I’m alive.’
Lacking the self-control to deny her, he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulled her close and kissed her. Rising, he lifted her with him and thrust his naked body along the full length of hers. There was nothing gentle about the urgency of his embrace, but his ardour inflamed her after the passion of the evening before. ‘Are we clean enough for bed?’
‘I can’t wait that long,’ she murmured.
‘Here?’ he reached up and pulled the bolt across the door.
‘The steam room.’
He swung her from her feet into his arms, opened the door and carried her inside the banya. He set her on the waist-high shelf and stepped in front of her.
She reached up and tipped water on the hot coals. The room was flooded with thick swirls of steam. Alexei moved even closer, piercing her body with his own.
‘Don’t leave me. Promise me that you’ll never leave me.’ She locked her arms around his neck.
‘I promise, my angel. I won’t leave you.’
She knotted her fingers into his hair. ‘Never … say never…’
‘Never. I’ll never leave you, my angel. I swear it.’
Chapter Eleven
Inn, four days’ journey from Hughesovka
October 1871
‘No carts for us tonight. We’ll have real beds if there are any spare, but there’ll be no mattresses, only hard planking with coarse woollen bed linen that will itch and scratch.’ Richard brushed a snowflake from his hair. He and Edward had just spotted the chimneys of one of the many primitive wayfarer stations that had sprung up between Taganrog and Hughesovka since John Hughes’s bullock trains had begun hauling supplies from the port to the town. Richard was driving the cart, with Sarah squashed between him and Edward who was perched uncomfortably on the outer edge of the driver’s seat.
‘The planks can’t be any harder than what we’re sitting on,’ Edward grumbled. ‘I wish I’d had the sense to hire a comfortable carriage in Taganrog like Hans Becker.’
‘Hans Becker didn’t hire it, it belongs to his master, who’s a prince,’ Richard pointed out. ‘And even if you’d hired a carriage, which would have cost the earth as you would have had to pay for a double journey because the driver would have had to return to Taganrog when we reached Hughesovka, you would still be bumping over the same rutted steppe. They’re not that much more comfortable, for all the springs built into them.’
‘They have to be,’ Edward demurred. ‘Springs to cushion the impact on my poor, aged, decrepit, aching bones, and a roof, doors, windows, and sides to shelter me from the cold sounds blissful at this moment.’
Richard looked ahead. Twin smoke plumes headed straight up, scarring the snow-laden, iron grey clouds. With no breeze to dispel them and the steppe stretching flat and unrelenting in every direction they were the only landmark for miles.
‘If there are beds, they’ll be shared, so keep your clothes on,’ Sarah advised Edward. ‘The innkeepers never wash bedding and wool is a magnet for fleas and bedbugs. Although the two chimneys suggest there’s a bathhouse, which will be absolute luxury after days of unwashed travelling. I can’t wait to soak in a bath, even a cold one.’
‘All this talk of fleas, bedbugs, and cold baths makes the thought of spending another night in this open cart more attractive by the minute.’ Edward reached for his pipe. He filled it with tobacco but made no attempt to light it.
Richard took the reins in his left hand to free his right and slipped his arm around Sarah’s waist. ‘Hard cart or hard bed with bugs?’
‘Hard choice to make,’ Sarah quipped, ‘but if the biggest bug of all is with me, I’ll settle for either.’
‘Do you think there’s any chance of Betty and Alice listening if I attempt to enlighten them as to the ways of Russian inns?’ Sarah asked Edward.
‘After the way both of them have determinedly ignored you and Richard since we left the port, I’d say none whatsoever.’
‘Alice still following Misha around like an adoring puppy?’ Richard asked.
‘Surely you’re not jealous?’ Edwar
d leaned forward so he could see Richard’s face.
‘Absolutely not.’ Richard gave Sarah an unnecessary reassuring hug. ‘But he’s a Cossack.’
‘And?’ Edward prompted when Richard didn’t elaborate.
‘Richard is trying to say Cossacks are lovely people but not quite like us.’
‘In a good or a bad way?’
‘That depends on whether you’re Cossack or Welsh,’ Richard answered.
‘I couldn’t help overhearing Alice telling everyone who cared to listen that she’s inherited a considerable sum of money from her husband.’ Sarah lowered her voice, although the snorts of the bullocks and the rumble of wheels was so loud there was little chance of their conversation drifting beyond the confines of the cart.
‘A thousand pounds,’ Edward murmured, ‘I’ve tried to warn her about keeping her business private, but she’s so proud of having her own money after first her father then her husband never allowing her to handle a penny, she insists on telling everyone she meets about it.’
‘She isn’t carrying it with her, is she?’ Richard was alarmed by the thought.
‘No, I persuaded her to put most of it into the same bank Mr Hughes uses so she can draw on it here. Although it means she has to give notice to the company whenever she needs to access her funds and as there’s no bank in Hughesovka … there isn’t, is there?’ Edward checked.
‘Not yet,’ Richard confirmed.
‘Good, that means it will take time for her to lay her hands on her money. Do you think men will be attracted to her simply because she has money?’ Edward asked.
‘Men in Russia are no different to men in Merthyr, Mr Edwards,’ Richard declared. ‘There are the good, the bad, and the unscrupulous who would marry an ugly old woman to lay their hands on a thousand pounds – and Alice is neither old nor ugly.’
‘So you’ll warn Alice about predatory men when you tell her and Betty about the bedbugs and fleas they can expect to find in the inn?’ Sarah suggested.
‘You’ll also have to explain how a banya – a Russian bath house works,’ Richard added.
‘You’re forgetting I’ve never been in one,’ Edward protested.
‘When men and women travel together the men always use them first. Richard will explain how they work to you, then you can tell Betty.’ Sarah leaned against Richard and watched the smoke plumes grow gradually larger as they approached the inn.
‘Four days and we’ll be in Hughesovka,’ Richard flicked the reins in a futile attempt to speed up the bullocks. Futile because none of the beasts could move faster than those pulling the cart in front of them, and there were over fifty carts in the train of supplies. ‘I’ll ask Misha to mount a man on a swift horse and send him on ahead first thing in the morning with a letter for Mr Edwards so he’ll have advance warning that Mrs Edwards and his daughter are on their way.’
‘You may not need to.’ Sarah shaded her eyes with her hand. ‘Isn’t that Vlad in the doorway of the inn?’
Richard squinted into the sun and made out the figure of the tall, loose-limbed Russian. He was leaning against the doorpost, a bottle of vodka in one hand, his gun cradled in the other.
‘Take over for me please.’ Richard thrust the reins into Sarah’s hand and jumped from the cart.
Edward watched him run. ‘That boy can’t wait to hear the news from Hughesovka.’
‘That boy is my husband, Edward.’
‘Sorry.’ He gave Sarah a sheepish grin. ‘It’s hard for me to forget that I was born the same year as his mother. To me he’ll always be the next generation.’
‘As for Richard wanting to hear the news from Hughesovka, he can’t wait and neither can I. It’s home now, Edward. In every sense of the word, and from what little I’ve gleaned from Richard, Anna, and Peter, more home to Richard than Merthyr ever was.’
‘Richard’s mother could only afford the rent for a hovel, even by Merthyr standards, after his father died. Damn the Crawshays. They should be ashamed for allowing their workers to live in worse conditions than animals.’
‘You’ll find the same shortage of decent housing in Hughesovka, Edward. Some of the labourers can’t even afford hovels. They dig holes in the ground, thatch them with turf, and call them home. We’ve had several epidemics already, not only of the cholera that killed Peter, but typhoid fever, diphtheria, and typhus.’
‘Mr Hughes is building more houses, isn’t he?’
‘As fast as humanly possible given the shortage of labour and materials, but the industrial buildings take precedence.’
‘Making money has always comes before people’s comfort and probably always will.’ Edward looked ahead to where Richard was deep in conversation with Vlad. ‘I wish these bullocks would move faster. The inn might be bug-ridden but the chimney smoke suggests it might be warm inside, and unless my nose is playing tricks on me, I believe I can smell hot stew.’
Sarah shivered. ‘Winter’s coming. You can feel it in the air. Be warned, autumn and spring only last a few hours here. A day at most. The steppe rarely has time to change to autumn shades before it’s buried in snowdrifts. It wouldn’t surprise me if it starts falling thicker tomorrow or even this evening, and within a day the snow will be six feet deep and rising. At the end of winter the snow will melt just as quickly. The trees will be full of blossoms, and summer will be with us. That’s something else you should warn Betty and Alice about. You either need cool summer or extreme winter clothes here. There’s no need to buy for an English climate.’
‘I’ll pass on the message but I’ve no doubt they’ll forget their ridiculous attitude towards you soon and start coming to you for advice.’
Sarah raised her eyebrows. ‘After Betty finds out about Glyn and Praskovia and discovers that Richard and I live under Glyn’s roof? I don’t think so, Edward.’
Wayfarer Inn, steppe outside Hughesovka
October 1871
‘So, Hughesovka’s burned to the ground,’ Richard echoed looking to Vlad to elaborate.
‘Last month. Not all of it has gone, the works and the furnaces are fine, but most of the shtetl went, along with a fair number of the wooden shops and houses, but Mr Glyn’s and Mr Alexei’s houses weren’t touched. And the hotel, Madam Koshka’s, and the headquarters of the company are all intact.’
‘We have to be grateful for that much,’ Richard said.
Sarah joined them. ‘Please, tell me about Alexei’s wedding to Ruth? Did it go well?’
‘It seemed to go all right.’
‘All right! That’s a typical man’s answer, Vlad. Was it perfect and romantic? Was the bride’s dress very beautiful … and the bridesmaids’ gowns, did they match the bride’s? Were the choir and music inspiring and moving? Could you hear the responses in the ceremony? Were the bride and bridegroom nervous?’
‘You need a woman to answer those questions,’ Vlad answered evasively.
‘So it seems.’ Sarah took the glass of kvas, a low alcohol bread beer, that Richard handed her, ‘thank you.’
‘Sorry I can’t be of more help, Mrs Edwards …’ Vlad hesitated in embarrassment, ‘sorry, Mrs Parry.’
‘We’ve known one another long enough for you to call me Sarah, Vlad.’
‘That wouldn’t be proper, Mrs Parry. So what do you say to my proposal?’ Vlad prompted, more at ease making practical plans than discussing weddings. ‘Because of the information we were given in Hughesovka that this convoy was closer to home than it is, the troika, horses, and me have been taking our ease here for two days while waiting for the supplies Mr Hughes needs urgently for the metallurgy laboratory. I could pack the chemicals into the back of the carriage, you and Mr Parry into the front, and we could move out within the hour and be in Hughesovka two full days before this bullock train reaches there.’
Richard glanced at Sarah. She didn’t need to nod agreement.
‘Did I hear you say that you’re driving straight on to Hughesovka now?’ Hans Becker asked Vlad in perfect Russian.
‘You did, sir,’ Vlad confirmed.
‘Could we please travel with you? All we’ll have to do is put a fresh team of horses into the carriage harness.’
‘You’d be most welcome, Your Excellency.’ Vlad had noticed the coat of arms on the carriage and been impressed without realising who it belonged to.
Hans saw Vlad studying the carriage door. ‘I’m not Prince Roman Nadolny.’
‘I know the prince by sight, sir, and I can confirm that you’re not him.’
Sarah stifled her laughter.
‘I’m Hans Becker and I work for the prince, which is why I’m travelling in his carriage. When do we leave?’ he asked Vlad.
‘How long will it take you to unload your luggage from the bullock carts?’ Vlad asked Richard.
‘As long as it will take Mr Becker’s coachman and footman to harness a fresh team.’ Richard turned to Sarah. ‘Find Edward and tell him we’re going on ahead. I’ll see to the luggage.’
New Russia Company Headquarters
October 1871
‘You’re absolutely sure about this,’ Roman repeated in astonishment.
John Hughes smiled. ‘We’ll carry out a full test firing of the furnace next month, but all the indications are that if there are no further hitches, by January next year we’ll be in full production.’
‘You’ve performed a miracle, John. If you’re sure about this I must write to Grand Duke Konstantin at once.’
‘I’m sure,’ John reiterated drily.
‘I’m glad you told me this now. One of my people is leaving for St Petersburg tomorrow to pick up a few things for me. He can take my letters with him.’
‘Pick up a few things? You sound as though you’ve asked him to go down the street because you left your handkerchief behind,’ John commented in amusement.
‘I don’t always carry everything I need; if I did, I’d travel with a veritable caravan of goods. It’s much easier to employ extra footmen who can fetch anything I’m missing. I recommend German staff, they’re so efficient, they organise me without me even noticing.’ He raised his glass of tea. ‘Here’s to the success of the New Russia Company.’
Princes and Peasants Page 11