Glyn knocked John’s office door and opened it. ‘Sorry to disturb you, but Mr and Mrs Parry have just arrived and they asked if they could see you.’
John smiled. ‘Show them in here please, Glyn.’
‘Mr and Mrs Parry …’ Alexei repeated the words as he followed Glyn to the door. ‘Richard must have caught up with Sarah. I knew he would. Now I can forgive him for missing my wedding.’ Alexei stood back as Richard and Sarah walked in.
Glyn swept Sarah off her feet and Alexei hugged Richard. The first time Alexei had embraced him, Richard had been disconcerted. Now, without realising how it had happened, he took the Russian’s exuberant demonstrations of affection for granted.
‘You’re back in time to join us in test firing the furnace,’ John announced while Alexei asked Vasily to bring refreshments for Richard and Sarah.
‘You haven’t met Grand Duke Konstantin’s representative, Prince Roman Nadolny,’ John effected the introduction. ‘Prince Roman, may I introduce my very good friends, and bridal couple, Richard and Sarah Parry.’
Sarah pulled off her glove so everyone could see the ring Richard had bought her in St Petersburg on his last visit in the hope that she’d accept his proposal.
‘Please, call me Roman. It’s my privilege to meet both of you after hearing so much about you.’
‘Has Vlad brought the chemicals we’re waiting for?’ John asked.
‘Yes, he’s delivering them to the laboratory now. Your secretary and lawyer also travelled with us, Prince Roman, and an associate of Grand Duke Konstantin,’ Richard revealed. ‘We left them at an inn this morning so they could repair a broken wheel on their carriage, but they won’t be more than an hour or two behind us.’
‘The bullock train will be here in two days and it’s bringing more people from Wales. Richard’s brothers are travelling with them.’ Sarah turned to Glyn. She knew there was absolutely no point in trying to hide Betty or his child’s presence when everyone in the train knew exactly who they were and why they’d come to Hughesovka. ‘Your brother Edward, along with your wife and daughter, will soon be here, Glyn.’
Catherine Ignatova’s house
October 1871
Hans Becker was accustomed to his master’s capricious nature but after the surprise of finding him making plans to stay on in Hughesovka, he considered the prince’s latest scheme astounding.
‘You want to build a house here? On the barren steppe, sir?’
‘It’s hardly barren now, Hans, and it will be less so in a few months when Mr Hughes has progressed even further with his building programme.’ Roman dipped his cut-throat razor into the bowl of warm water on his washstand. ‘Manfred has details of the parcel of land I’ve bought down by the river. It’s larger than I need for the house, gardens, and carriage house, but half of it can be fenced off for horses and stables. It’s always as well to keep them close to hand, especially in a town. Send for the architect who designed the Yalta house, I’ll talk to him about plans and specifics when he arrives, and if he’s still using that Prussian master builder … what was his name?’
‘Albert Salewski, sir.’
‘That’s the man. Tell the architect I want Salewski to build it and remind Manfred I want a wine cabinet put into the cabin in the boat he’s refurbishing.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Hans was used to his master’s grasshopper way of thinking, but this was the first he’d heard about a boat. ‘Boat, sir?’
‘I bought one to use as a retreat. Catherine Ignatova is a wonderful hostess, and the people here are splendid, but you know me. I need to get away from people, even splendid ones, from time to time.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Wine cabinet to be filled – Manfred will know with what. That’s all for now, Hans. I heard that my lawyer travelled with you?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Tell him to come to my office in the New Russia Company at ten o’clock.’
‘This morning, sir?’
Roman smiled at Hans’s reflection in his shaving mirror. ‘You think tomorrow morning would be better, Hans?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Ask him to come this morning, Hans.’
‘Yes, sir. Sir …’ Hans hesitated.
‘I can’t answer a question if you don’t ask it, Hans.’
‘Yes, sir. How long do you intend to remain here, sir?’
‘You don’t like Hughesovka, Hans?’
‘You can hardly call the place civilized, can you, sir?’
‘Give it time, Hans.’ Roman finished shaving, took the towel that had been soaking in boiling water, and wiped his face with it. ‘Give it time,’ he repeated, ‘and while you do, take a look around. This place has many undiscovered charms. If you take the trouble to look.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘No need to sound so sceptical, Hans. I’ll see you with my lawyer in my office?’
‘Ten o’clock, sir.
Chapter Twelve
Glyn Edwards’s house
October 1871
‘Are you sure these will be suitable for your brothers, Richard?’ Praskovia had insisted on showing Richard the rooms she’d prepared before his brothers arrived, and as the bullock train had been sighted a verst outside the town, they were expecting them to walk in at any moment. ‘If I’d had more notice that they were coming here I’d have had time to prepare something better, or at least repaint the walls. These were always intended to be servants’ quarters. I told Glyn we should accommodate your family in the main part of the house…’
‘My brothers have never even aspired to servants’ quarters, Praskovia,’ Richard interrupted. ‘In fact these are the first rooms they will have had to call their own. And they’re more than fine.’ He walked into one of the two identically furnished cubicles and pressed down on the bed with his hand. The mattress was firm, the bedcovers bleached cotton, the chests plain wood. There was a hook on the back of the door to hang clothes, and a travelling washstand. ‘Neither Owen nor Morgan could want for more,’ he assured her.
‘Although they have to share a corridor with the maids, groom, gardener, and my mother? They could of course have Pyotr’s room at the front of the house but as one of his duties is answering the bell at night they might not get much sleep.’
‘I think they’d prefer it here. They’re at a safe distance from me and both Mr Edwardses in case they get up to any mischief they don’t want us to see.’
‘I’m glad you think they’re suitable. Glyn and I discussed the arrangements. It makes sense for Glyn’s brother to have Alexei’s old room, and as Sarah suggested, you can turn either your room or Sarah’s into a sitting room, although you’re most welcome to share the one downstairs.’
‘We know that, Praskovia.’
‘Pyotr will help you to move the furniture around.’
‘I wouldn’t dare touch anything in the rooms until Sarah’s decided what she wants where.’
‘Very sensible,’ Praskovia agreed. ‘The woman in the family is always the homemaker not the man.’
‘I seem to have suddenly acquired a large family. Two brothers in addition to a sister and wife. That’s quite a crowd. It won’t hurt us to have rooms we can spread out in, and next year there’ll be two babies in the house.’
Praskovia didn’t smile at his reminder. ‘You know Glyn’s wife?’
‘I’ve met her,’ Richard replied warily.
‘You travelled from Taganrog with her.’
‘She wouldn’t talk to me or Sarah.’
‘Why?’ Praskovia was genuinely perplexed.
‘Because Sarah was married to Peter. Some people in Wales believe widows should mourn their dead husbands for the rest of their lives and never remarry. To make things worse, in her eyes I’m still a boy and far too young to have married Sarah, given the age difference between us.’
‘You only have to look at you to see you’re a man.’
‘Thank you, Praskovia.’ He suddenly realised how tactless he’d been. The ag
e gap between him and Sarah was practically the same as the age difference between Praskovia and Glyn, only in reverse. ‘But that isn’t all. An old girlfriend of mine has travelled with Glyn’s wife. She was hoping to marry me, and was furious when she discovered I’d married Sarah.’
Praskovia frowned, her thoughts clearly with Glyn. ‘I wish Glyn had allowed me to go to the hotel with him to talk to his wife. If she could see us together…’
‘She’d what, Praskovia?’ he asked gently. ‘Realise how much you love one another. That really wouldn’t make the situation between her and Glyn any easier, now would it?’
‘No, of course not. It’s just that…’
‘What?’
‘I can’t stop thinking about Glyn and what he’s going to say to his wife and baby daughter.’ Tears gathered on her eyelashes. ‘I wish I could spare both of them pain.’
‘You have spared Mr Edwards the pain of loneliness, Praskovia. I hope Sarah and I will always be as happy together as you and he are.’
Beletsky Mansion, Hughesovka
October 1871
‘Ilya, the bottles are empty. Bring more whisky, cognac, and vodka,’ Levsky ordered.
Levsky’s manservant left the room and returned a few moments later with a tray laden with full bottles of spirits, fresh glasses, and slices of lemon.
Nicholas Beletsky glanced at the dozen men sitting around his dining table. Levsky was sitting opposite him, depending on the point of view, either at the head or the foot of the long table. Either way Levsky had assumed the mantle of master of the house, and with it the right to direct the servants, although technically the Beletsky mansion was still registered in his name. However, he could hardly object when they were being served by Levsky’s retainers and Levsky was paying all the domestic expenses of the Beletsky mansion.
He’d used the house, and indeed most of his other assets, including his Moscow and St Petersburg properties, as collateral against his IOU gambling notes, most of which were now in the possession of Levsky. Bankruptcy hovered over him like a black cloud above a furnace. Much as he tried to blame his losses on bad luck and his state of mind after losing his wife and all but one of his daughters, he couldn’t even convince himself. He knew, as did everyone around him, that his dire financial situation was the consequence of staking and losing more than he could afford at the card table.
‘Gentlemen,’ Levsky glanced around the table, and signalled to Ilya to refill everyone’s glass. ‘It’s time to commit our concerns to paper and send them to our friends at court. Ilya, when you’ve finished serving you may close the door behind you.’
Ilya replaced the bottles on the tray and left it in the centre of the table. As soon as he closed the door, Nicholas thumped his fist on the table to gain everyone’s attention.
‘We have to derail this insane preoccupation of the Tsar to industrialise Russia. It’s destabilising Russian society. It’s only ten years since he abolished serfdom and we all know where that led.’
Content to allow Nicholas to do the talking, Levsky merely nodded agreement.
‘The country is awash with landless peasants. A rootless, thieving, Godless, feral proletariat who care nothing for the land they once worked, or the well-being of those who own that land. Hell-bent on going wherever the wind blows them, including this damned sink of iniquity – this so called “industrial town” of John Hughes. They have no allegiance to anyone or anything other than their own carnal lusts. No thought or respect for their former masters, the church, or even God.’
The men around the table indicated tacit, silent agreement as they drained their glasses and passed the bottles of spirits to one another.
‘The peasants are naturally idle. Recent history has shown us they’d rather revolt and fight their God-ordained masters than work. As vicious and devoid of morals as a pack of wolves, they terrorise and steal from decent people in the countryside, break into the houses of the bourgeois in the towns, and ambush and strip aristocrats of their valuables whenever we venture out without protection.’
‘Hear, hear,’ Levsky chanted.
‘It has become increasingly obvious that our Tsar Alexander II values his drive to “modernise” and “industrialise” Mother Russia above the wellbeing and safety of his subjects. In short, gentlemen, by unleashing the peasants on us he is actively inciting political unrest.’
Levsky reached down beside his chair and lifted a briefcase on to the table. He opened it and removed a file. He extracted the papers it contained and distributed them. ‘We must act immediately, gentlemen. It may already be too late. We can begin by reading and signing these declarations, which I’ve arranged to be passed on to the Tsar by a “sympathetic friend” in his inner circle.’
Silence reigned while everyone studied the declaration that demanded the reinstatement of regulations restricting the peasants to living on their masters’ estates, effectually restoring serfdom, expelling all foreign industrialists from Russia, and confining the building of industrial complexes to the Far East of the country.
The sound of ink bottles being opened and the scratching of pens marked an end to the silence.
‘Hasn’t the fire halted John Hughes’s building programme?’ Taras Komansky, an even wealthier landowner than Levsky, asked.
As most of Komansky’s holdings were in the East, Levsky suspected that he was hoping to replicate Hughesovka with its lucrative leases on his own property. ‘Apparently not,’ he snapped. ‘The area most affected was the shtetl and the Jews are already putting up wooden shacks to replace the ones that were destroyed. I’ve also heard that Hughes sent letters to Germany this morning asking his agents to recruit more artisans. His intention is to rebuild in brick.’
Nicholas collected the papers the men had read and signed. He shuffled them into a pile and handed them to Levsky.
‘I will get these,’ Levsky returned them to his briefcase, ‘to the right person.’
‘If you need any help in putting pressure on people who are in a position to influence the Tsar, I’m your man,’ Komansky boasted.
‘The problem is not with the Tsar’s advisors, but the man himself.’ Levsky filled his glass with cognac. The spirits had flowed freely around the table but it was the first drink he’d allowed to pass his lips. ‘I’ve heard he’s even considering some kind of parliament with elected representatives similar to Great Britain, which indicates that the introduction of British industrialists into Russia is already having a detrimental effect on the Tsar’s thinking, as well as the pockets of the landowners.’
‘So many serfs have left my land there are not enough to cultivate it. Those who still live on my estate will be hard pressed to produce enough food to feed themselves, let alone my servants and the free peasants who have elected to stay,’ declared a Moscow landowner.
‘By allowing the serfs to move away from the estates that produced the food for Mother Russia, the Tsar has ruined the land,’ Nicholas commented. ‘As for industry, if the Tsar, as you suggest, Levsky, reintroduces serfdom and returns the Russian workers to their rightful place, I see no problem with continuing to import the goods that we cannot produce ourselves. If the rest of Europe chooses to industrialise and blacken their landscape with filth, dust, coalmines, and factories that is their choice. We will keep Russia a green and pleasant haven.’
‘To summarise, gentlemen, we’re all agreed that this ridiculous venture of Hughes’ has to be stopped here in the Donbas. I will leave for St Petersburg tomorrow and lobby those with influence to our cause. I trust you will do the same in your own parts of the country when you return. Meanwhile I have arranged for my grooms to saddle horses, and my huntsmen to prepare guns and ammunition. If any of you, gentlemen, would care to join me in a hunting expedition on the steppe this afternoon, please meet me in the hall one hour after lunch.’
The men finished their drinks and dispersed. When only Nicholas remained, Levsky opened a narrow door concealed in the wood panelling that led to the servants’ q
uarters. They walked down a stone-built passage until they reached a corridor lined with doors.
Levsky opened the first door and entered a freezing cell. Four men sat at a table. Levsky addressed Ilya. ‘You spoke to our man?’
‘I did, sir.’
‘He read all the reports from bystanders in the town that reached the New Russia Company Office?’
‘He did, sir. Your men were seen at the locations of the outbreak of the fires but no one could identify them or give a description other than “shadowy figures”.’
‘Figures, not figure?’ Levsky checked.
‘That’s what he told me, sir.’
‘It’s also what I heard in the beer shop, sir,’ Gleb attested.
‘You two, you wore hoods and covered your faces?’ Levsky demanded in English.
‘With scarves, sir, we did,’ Ianto Paskey spoke for his brother Mervyn as well as himself.
‘Keep working on your Russian. When I send you into the ironworks to sabotage production I want you – both of you,’ Levsky glared at Mervyn as well as Ianto, ‘speaking the language like natives.’
‘It’s hard, sir,’ Mervyn whined.
‘No one said it would be easy. How are they progressing, Gleb?’
‘Not well, sir,’ Gleb replied with more honesty than tact. ‘But they could always say they’re from one of the Baltic States.’
‘When there are as many Lithuanians, Estonians, Prussians, and Latvians in Hughesovka as there are Russians, Cossacks, and Welsh? I don’t think so. Keep working, all of you. Not you, Ilya. I need you to supervise lunch and the hunting trip for my guests.’
‘Sir.’
Ilya left. Nicholas and Levsky followed him out of the servants’ quarters and back into the dining room. The maids were setting the table so by tacit consent they retired to the drawing room.
‘You’ll remain here and keep an eye on the situation in the town while I’m in St Petersburg.’
Nicholas knew Levsky had given him an order. ‘If you want me to.’
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