‘Go in.’
The man walked through the door which was panelled on the back. When Gleb closed it behind them, it was indistinguishable from the walls of the room and impossible to see unless you had prior knowledge of its existence.
Nicolas Beletsky was sitting in a chair that had been pulled close to the fire. A bottle of vodka, a glass, an oil lamp, and a book were on a side table next to him. He glanced at the man. ‘Uncover your face,’ he ordered.
The man did as he was bid.
‘You must have news to travel this far from town during a snowstorm.’
‘The first of the Edwards Brothers collieries is going into full production next Monday.’
‘You’re certain of this?’
‘I am, sir. They finished shoring up all the shafts they intend working today, and put in the last of the pit props this afternoon. They also carried down extra timber for repairs.’
‘Glyn Edwards and John Hughes haven’t been recruiting new workers. We would have heard about it if they had.’
‘Glyn Edwards put Richard Parry in charge of hiring. He has only taken on Welsh workers he knows or have been vouched for by one of the two Edwards brothers.’
‘No Russian or Cossack workers?’
‘A few, but only men who have been vouched for by Vlad or your son.’
‘The only sons I have are in the military academy in Allenstein,’ Nicholas snarled.
‘My apologies, sir.’
‘Is there any way you can get our men into the colliery?’
‘The men who’ve been asked to work there have been given special identity cards, and I’ve heard that the only cage operators employed by the collieries will be men who will be able to recognise the workers by sight. If you had enough money it might be possible to bribe –’
‘Forget that,’ Nicholas interrupted. Levsky had left him barely enough money to pay the domestic expenses of the house and the wages of the informers they’d hired to report on the progress of the New Russia Company. ‘Do you have one of these identity cards?’
‘No, sir. They’ve only been given to the men concerned.’
‘No spares?’
‘No, sir. Richard Parry supervised the distribution himself. He trusted no one else, not even the men who travelled over here from Wales with him. He warned all the men to take care of their ticket and as far as I know none of them have let one out of their sight, but I did get this for you.’ He slipped his hand into his pocket, pulled out two sheets of paper, and handed them to Nicholas.
Nicholas’s eyes narrowed as he held the papers to the lamp and scanned the names on them. ‘Is there any chance we can waylay one or two of these men and replace them with ours?’
‘No, sir, as I told you there’ll be men operating the cage who will spot any men we try to put in. And without a bribe…’
‘We don’t have enough silver to bribe a kitchen maid to give us slops.’ Nicholas continued to peruse the list. ‘Monday, you’re sure?’
‘Yes, sir.
‘Anyone see you coming here?’
‘No, sir, I waited until dark.’
‘You’re sure you weren’t followed?’
‘A blizzard is raging outside, sir. I’m sure. I stopped several times, not always because I wanted to. I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face let alone the road.’
Nicholas nodded. ‘Dismissed.’
‘My payment is due, sir. I wasn’t paid last month.’
‘Bring me my desk, Gleb.’
The servant picked up Nicholas’s travelling desk and set it on the table beside the vodka. Nicholas unlocked it, took a small purse from inside and handed it over. ‘This will be your last payment until Mr Levsky returns from St Petersburg.’
The messenger pocketed it. ‘Will he be returning soon, sir?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘Is there anything you want me to do, sir?’
Nicholas turned the question back on him. ‘Is there anything that you can do?’
‘Not that I can think of given the heightened security around the New Russia Company and Edwards Brothers Collieries, sir.’
‘But you can walk in and out of the works?’
‘Only when I have messages to deliver from the office, and even then I need a permit signed by the senior member of staff who sent me there.’
‘We’ll have to rethink our plans. If I need you, I will get in touch. Don’t come here again unless like tonight you have urgent information to impart. Stay where you are, and keep your eyes and ears open. Copy any documents you think we may find useful while carrying on your work for the company. You’re too useful to us where you are to take any unnecessary risks that may unmask you as sympathetic to our cause.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Show him out, Gleb.’
After they left, closing the panel behind them, Nicholas sat staring into the flames. He wished Levsky was close at hand, but he wasn’t. None of them had envisaged the ironworks or the collieries going into production so soon and, what was worse, he was powerless to sabotage either of them without the money to finance an operation.
Gleb returned
‘You heard everything, Gleb?’
‘I did, sir.’
‘Any ideas?’
‘The New Russia Company and the collieries are both operating with mainly Welsh labour. The Paskey brothers are Welsh, sir.’
‘And at the other side of the country.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘If we brought them back here, do you think they’d be taken on if they applied for jobs with the company or the collieries?’
‘No, sir, but we might be able to sneak them in,’ Gleb suggested.
‘If we pay bribes with money we won’t have until Mr Levsky returns.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘I’ll mention your idea to Mr Levsky when he returns. Just out of interest, do you trust the Paskeys?’
‘No, sir, which makes both of them expendable.’
‘What are you suggesting?’ Nicholas asked bluntly.
‘That they succumb to an accident after they’ve succeeded in sabotaging whatever we’ve asked them to.’
‘A crude idea, but possibly one worth considering at a future date. Tell the cook I’ll have a beefsteak tomorrow.’
‘I’m not sure there are any, sir.’
‘There will be in Hughesovka. Drive her in and keep your eyes and ears open.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And while we’re confined to the house by the snow, make sure that all the men on the estate know how to shoot. You can practise in the barn.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Let me know when all of them can hit a target every time.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Dismissed, Gleb.’
Chapter Twenty-eight
Catherine Ignatova’s house
February 1872
‘Here comes the bride and bridesmaid, returned from viewing their gowns.’ Catherine smiled as Sonya and Anna walked into the drawing room accompanied by Sarah, Praskovia, and Ruth. ‘Still happy with the bridesmaid’s dress, Anna? No second thoughts about wearing something that’s practically an antique?’
‘None, Mrs Ignatova. It’s truly beautiful, and as you said, it fits me like a glove. I can’t wait to wear it.’
‘And I can’t wait to see you wear it and reprise your role as beautiful bridesmaid, Anna. So, Father Grigor,’ Roman took the glass of vodka Boris served him, ‘how quickly can you marry me to Sonya – or is it the other way around? Either way, I hope it will be this week. Although, if there are problems I may – at a push – settle for next week, but not a minute longer.’
Catherine looked at Roman in concern. ‘Why the rush?’
‘First I don’t want to give Sonya the time or opportunity to change her mind,’ he winked at Sonya, ‘and secondly we still have several long, hard winter weeks ahead of us. I hate waste and would like to make use of the dark evenings to get to know my wife.’
‘Are you never serious, Roman?’ Catherine reprimanded.
‘I am being serious, Catherine. In fact I hoped that I’d be married to Sonya by now. I didn’t realise a simple wedding would take so much organising.’
‘In which case you should have spoken to me, I’m an expert at organising weddings,’ Alexei commented, his tongue firmly in his cheek.
‘Is that why you left your own wedding to your grandmother, Sonya, and Ruth to arrange,’ mocked Glyn.
‘Richard and I were in Taganrog when you met Sonya, Roman,’ Sarah reminded him. ‘I’ve been meaning to ask, was it love at first sight between you two?’
‘It was certainly something at first sight, Mrs Parry,’ Roman replied evasively.
‘A thunderbolt?’ Richard asked.
‘Isn’t it always,’ Alexei chimed in.
‘So speaks one happy bridegroom,’ Richard commented.
‘Hardly a bridegroom. Ruth and I have been married for months now.’ Alexei reached out, grabbed Ruth’s hand, and pulled her down on to the sofa beside him.
‘I stand corrected, old married man,’ Richard sipped his brandy.
‘We were married the same time as you,’ Alexei reminded.
‘Children, no quarrelling,’ Catherine said lightly.
‘And all four of you are still smiling after months of marriage,’ Roman observed. ‘If I get in trouble with Sonya I’ll have to come to you for marital advice. So, Father Grigor, can you please put me out of my misery by at least naming the month that we might marry?’
‘The first Sunday in April,’ the priest suggested. ‘That will give me enough time to announce the ceremony in advance in church. And give the old ladies, who keep the estate church cleaner than the hospital wards, enough time to polish all the wood in honour of the occasion.’
Roman looked at Sonya. ‘Can you be ready by then?’
‘As Aunt Catherine has solved the problems of my dress, there is only the wedding breakfast to be arranged.’
‘You can leave that to Lyudmila and me,’ Catherine interposed with a frown. As the others began talking about guests and music, she watched Roman. Like Koshka she was beginning to suspect Roman’s motives in marrying Sonya. Roman’s wealth was well documented as was his position in society. Rumours of his liaisons with well-connected and even wealthier girls than Sonya were rife.
There was no denying that Sonya was beautiful, but Catherine was realistic enough to accept that Sonya was no more beautiful than many of the St Petersburg heiresses who had a great deal more money plus a far higher social position to recommend them.
Had Roman become suddenly and inexplicably drawn to Sonya for no deeper reason than she was a passing fad or fancy? She hated having to ask the question but couldn’t help wondering, would he tire of Sonya just as suddenly as he had courted her?
Glyn and Praskovia’s house
February 1872
When they returned home after visiting Catherine, Glyn went to his desk in the study area of his and Praskovia’s bedroom. After calling goodnight to Sarah, Richard, and Anna as they climbed the stairs to their sitting room, Praskovia checked all the downstairs rooms as she did every evening before going to bed.
She heard her mother’s voice raised in anger as she approached the kitchen door. Steeling herself for one of Yelena’s volatile outbursts, she opened it to find Yelena and Pyotr sitting hunched over the stove while her brother Misha paced up and down in front of them.
She knew without being told that they had been arguing. ‘Problems?’ she ventured from the doorway.
Pyotr who never understood the nuances of any discussion and always took everything at face value, blurted, ‘Misha wants to sell our house in the village.’
‘Is that right, Misha?’ Praskovia looked to him for an explanation as she lowered herself onto a kitchen chair.
‘It’s not as if you haven’t another house,’ Misha rejoined irritably. ‘Your lover has given you this one.’
‘Where did you hear that?’ Praskovia asked.
‘Your lover’s legal wife.’
‘You’ve spoken to Betty Edwards about me?’ Praskovia struggled to keep her temper.
Misha ignored her comment. ‘You didn’t think to inform me that you’d come into riches?’
‘Owning the house you live in hardly makes you wealthy. And as a family we’ve never discussed money.’
‘Only because as a family we’ve never had any money – until now.’
‘We haven’t any money now. When we were growing up, Papa and Mama owned the house we lived in…’
‘A house he built.’
‘Which was as comfortable as this one.’
‘Hardly as grand.’
‘As Papa used to say, it’s for every person to find their own way in the world, Misha.’
‘You certainly found yours,’ Misha sneered. ‘You landed on your feet by playing the slut and spreading your legs, dear sister. It’s a great deal easier than working for a living. I take my hat off to you.’ He did just that to emphasise his point, tossing his officer’s cap on to the table. ‘Mistress of your own big house, which you can keep even if your lover tires of you, and should he die young, you can still keep it, because he has written his legal wife and child out of his will.’
‘His legal wife and child, as you put it, have been well provided for by him.’
‘You think so…’
‘I know so because Glyn told me…’
‘So it’s Glyn now, not Mr Edwards…’
Sensing Misha was about to say something neither she nor Praskovia wanted to hear, Yelena interrupted the conversation. ‘Misha wants me to evict my tenants from our Cossack house, Praskovia. He wants to sell it to Mr Edwards’s wife so she can take down the building, move it into town, and rebuild it as a shop, with living quarters for her and her friends in our bedrooms.
‘That house is not yours to sell, Misha, it is our mother’s,’ Praskovia reminded him.
‘Our mother has no need of it. All she does is sit here and collect the rent as well as her wages, and stockpile money I could use to buy myself out of the regiment.’
‘If you wanted to buy yourself out of the regiment you should have come to me and asked me to lend you the money,’ Yelena reproached.
‘“Lend”! You expect me to pay you back my father’s money. My father built that house.’
‘For me.’
‘And his children.’
‘Exactly, for all his children,’ Yelena reminded.
‘I am the eldest son. I am entitled to that house and all the rent money that you have collected since you moved out. You have a home here with Praskovia. Glyn Edwards pays you and Pyotr wages,’ he stared pointedly at Praskovia’s swollen waistline, ‘and I don’t doubt that you do all right when it comes to luxuries.’
‘How dare you…’
‘Don’t come the high and mighty with me, Praskovia. Or you, Mama, when you rent out our house to strangers while your own son hasn’t a roof over his head.’
‘The strangers pay rent that our mother sets aside for her old age and Pyotr’s. You want to take the house and see our mother and Pyotr destitute?’ Praskovia’s voice rose precariously.
‘Destitute,’ Misha repeated the word and spat it back at her. ‘They are living in luxury with you and being paid for it. You never told me that you owned this house, let alone invited me to come and live here with you.’
‘You are an officer in the Cossack regiment, Misha, you live in barracks –’
‘And when I have leave?’
‘Glyn – Mr Edwards invited you to come and stay here any time. We set aside a room for you.’
‘In the servants’ quarters.’
‘Only because all the other rooms are permanently occupied. Even if you had taken Glyn up on the invitation you wouldn’t be here very often. As you’ve discovered, accommodation is a problem in the town. Do you expect me to reserve one of the main bedrooms and throw Glyn’s friends and family out o
n the streets just so you can sleep here a few days a year?’
‘I expect you to give the same consideration to your brother that you do to your lover’s friends and family,’
The constant use of ‘lover’ to describe Glyn was infuriating Praskovia but she managed to keep her temper – unlike her mother.
‘Every single time you come here, you make trouble, Misha. The house your father built, he built for me. It’s mine and no one else’s. I am not about to give it away to anyone, including you three children. The rents my tenants pay I give to Mr Edwards to bank for me along with half my wages so I will have money enough to live on in my old age when I can no longer work…’
‘When Praskovia throws you out of her house, you mean.’
‘I would never throw our mother or Pyotr out of this house,’ Praskovia countered angrily.
‘So you say now. But what will happen when our mother gets too old to cook or look after herself?’
‘You talk about me getting old, Misha. I am not yet fifty and your grandmother was cooking for old Mr Ignatov when she was eighty-five.’
‘She dropped dead making soup for him.’
‘Better that than trying to stop her ungrateful children from snatching her possessions before she’d even died. I’m a long way off from dying, Misha, and I’m not about to hand over my house to you.’
‘You’d rather give it to Praskovia who already has a mansion.’
‘I’m not about to give it to any of my children. Especially the one who’s come here to cause trouble.’
‘I came here to invite you to my wedding, but forget it. I don’t want to see any of you ever again.’
Praskovia had heard the threat many times before. ‘Misha, you know you don’t mean that.’
‘Oh yes I do, dear sister, I mean exactly that.’ Misha opened the back door and disappeared into the night. Praskovia went after him, but when she heard the sound of hoofbeats she closed the door, turned, and doubled over in pain.
Pyotr leapt up and ran to her. Yelena was slower to her feet. ‘The baby?’
Praskovia nodded. ‘Pyotr, run upstairs, fetch Mrs Parry.’
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