Falling Stars

by Anita Mills

  “What—? What has happened?”

  “It does not matter. You are not to concern yourself. Alexei, put your wife back to bed,” the older woman ordered. “She must not mark the child.”

  “No.” Resolutely, Katherine moved closer.

  “It is nothing, I tell you!” Galena snapped. “Lexy!”

  “Go back to bed, Ekaterina,” he said. “I will explain everything later.”

  “I am not a child,” she retorted, trying to see past him. “What has happened?” she asked again.

  “I will not sleep in that room!” Sofia Sherkova shouted at someone Katherine could not see. “Gregori—tell them! My gowns—they are ruined by the smoke!”

  “Be quiet, Sofia!” Galena shouted back. “Of course you will not stay there!”

  Unmollified, the other woman protested loudly, “All I asked was a clean chimney! And now this! Everything is ruined!”

  “What is ruined? For God’s sake, will someone tell me what is going on?” Katherine demanded, pushing her way past two footmen. “What is this awful smell?”

  “Ekaterina, it is not for you to see.” Alexei moved to intercept her. “Come—”

  But her gaze found her maid, and the girl stood, her face pale, her eyes a mirror of horror. “Maria—” Dodging beneath her husband’s arm, Katherine faced her. “What is it?”

  The girl stared. Before any could stop her, Katherine shook Maria. Wordlessly, the girl pointed through the open door. Katherine turned, seeing two men working with hooks, trying to dislodge something from the fireplace. Galena caught at her arm, pulling her back, but Katherine tore away from her. The smoke was thick, choking, and the men coughed continuously. The window was open, and the cold air drew the heat from the room, but smoke still billowed.

  “Something is on fire!” she shouted, her eyes burning. “Lexy, something is still on fire!”

  He nodded and turned away. This time, Galena grasped Katherine’s arm tightly. “Ekaterina, you must not watch. For the sake of your child, you should not see this, I tell you!”

  There were grunts, then a triumphant cry as the hooks pulled the obstruction down into the grate. Galena tried to cover Katherine’s eyes, but she was too late. Despite the soot, despite the blackened flesh, it was unmistakably a small child. A man with a bucket of water doused it. Galena pushed Katherine at Alexei, muttering, “Take her away.”

  “No!” She turned wildly to Sofia Sherkova. “Madame—what—?”

  The woman shrugged. “There was a bird’s nest—they sent him up.”

  A man tried to explain plaintively, but she could not make sense of the Russian words. “Get it out of here,” Alexei growled, looking away.

  “It?” Katherine’s voice rose almost hysterically. “Lexy, that is a child—isn’t it?” She turned to her maid, and tried to regain control. “Maria?”

  “Oh, dahma,” the girl whispered, her eyes enormous. “He not go up—they make him—” Her throat constricted visibly, and she could not go on.

  Katherine searched the impassive faces of the men, then she looked to Madame Popov. “You let them burn up a child?” she asked angrily.

  “Ekaterina!” Galena said sharply.

  “For a bird’s nest, you let them kill a child?” Katherine demanded again. “What kind of woman are you?” She dropped to her knees before the grate and reached to gingerly touch the curled figure. The smoldering flesh disintegrated beneath her touch. Tears burned her eyes. Drawing back in horror, she could only whisper, “What kind of people are you?”

  “It was a serf,” Sofia Sherkova muttered. “Tell her it was a serf.”

  “He was someone’s son!”

  “Serfs are like rabbits,” Marshal Sherkov observed contemptuously. “They will not miss one mouth when there are so many.”

  She rose to face her husband, her hand on her rounded abdomen. “Lexy, tell me you would not miss this one!” When he did not answer her, she moved between him and Galena. “Whoever is responsible for this must be punished—do you hear me, Lexy? A child is dead!”

  He raised his hands, then dropped them. “It is unfortunate,” he murmured, not meeting her eyes.

  “Unfortunate?” she shouted at him. “It is criminal! Is no one going to do anything? Does no one care?”

  As Galena glared at him, he caught Katherine’s arm again, trying to drag her from the room. “Ekaterina, you do not understand—the boy was a serf. I cannot punish Madame Popov for this. Come—you must not think on what you cannot help,” he murmured soothingly. “It is not good for you.”

  “No!” Wrenching free, she ran from the room.

  “Ekaterina! Ekaterina!”

  She had to get away from all of them. She could scarce breathe for the tightness in her chest. Brushing past a returning Bellamy Townsend, she ran down the back stairs, nearly colliding with one of the maids coming up, then out into the cold winter air.

  Bell started to go after her, but a footman was already in pursuit. Galena called to the fellow, shouting something. The footman turned back. Both Alexei and his sister were in the hall, and when they saw him, Alexei held out his hands helplessly. Galena sighed, then shook her head. “I told her not to look. Now perhaps she will wish to be alone.”

  “What the devil—?” Bell moved closer. “Will someone explain all the noise—and what the hell is that smell?”

  It was Sofia Sherkova who answered him. Coming into the hall also, she bore a look of supreme disgust. “Ekaterina Volskaya is possessed of too much silly English sensibility! A serf is dead, and she would hang us all for it! She does not even care that my clothes, they are all ruined!”

  He pushed past all of them, then stopped when he saw men lifting the small burned body into a blanket. “Good God! It is a child!” “Turning to Marshal Sherkov, he demanded, “What happened?”

  The old man glared for a moment, then looked away. “It is unfortunate, of course—but the chimney smoked. When Sofia complained of it, they sent a sweep and the boy.”

  “There was a bird’s nest in it,” Sofia explained defensively.

  “It had to come out before the house burned,” Alexei insisted. “There was nothing else to do.”

  “Of course it did,” Galena murmured soothingly. Looking at Bell, she added, “I’m afraid the boy was sent up to get it down.”

  Maria’s chin quivered, then she burst out, saying, “He—” She groped helplessly for a word and could not find it. “He cry!” she wailed finally. She went to the grate and picked up a blackened stick. Gesturing with the stick, she poked up the chimney from below, jabbing as though she were forcing something. “He cry,” she whispered, dropping the charred wood back into the grate. “Then nothing.”

  Bell nodded grimly. “He suffocated.” Turning back to the others, he could not hide the contempt he felt. “What kind of people are you?” When no one answered him, he shouted it. “What kind of people are you?”

  “It was a serf—a serf!” Sofia insisted. “And you have no right—”

  “Be still, Sofia!” Galena snapped.

  His jaw worked visibly as he sought to control his temper, but they were all looking at him as though he were the one who was mad. Finally, Sherkov cleared his throat. “It is different in your country, but here we do not—”

  “And your czar claims to be enlightened,” Bell muttered, pushing past them. “You make me sick—all of you!”

  In the hall, he found a maid still polishing the dark wood panels. “Dahma Volskaya—where?” he demanded curtly.

  “Dahma narroozhoo.” As she spoke, she pointed to the door.

  “She’ll freeze,” he muttered. “Why didn’t anyone stop her?”

  It was a useless question. The girl’s expression did not change. He opened the door, and a blast of icy wind hit his face. He pulled his fur-lined cloak closer and plunged outside again. She couldn’t have come out in this, she couldn’t have, he told himself, but then he saw the small footprints of a woman in the snow, footprints of slippers rather
than boots, and he knew better.

  The cold cut through Katherine’s silk wrapper, and the snow filled her slippers. Her feet sank deeply, making her stagger awkwardly as she sought shelter in the stable. Tears clung in crystals to her lashes, and the bright snow blinded her. She pounded on a door.

  “Dahma! Shto?” someone asked.

  “Leave me alone!” she cried. “Get out!” He backed away obediently, then stood there at a distance, staring at her. “Astaf-tye menya! Oohadeetye!” she repeated. “Just go!”

  “Da, dahma. “ He turned to a gathering group of men and boys and barked something at them. They looked at her, then moved away, muttering to themselves.

  She ran the length of the stables, past the occupied stalls, then stumbled blindly into an empty one, where she dropped to her knees, sobbing against a bale of hay. Even in the musty cold of the stable, she could still smell the burned flesh. She closed her eyes, seeing again the small, blackened form of a child. She had to gag back the bile that rose in her throat.

  A child was dead, and no one seemed to care. Not Alexei. Not even Galena. Dear God, but was she the only one not mad in this awful place? No matter how long she lived, she would never forget what she’d seen. Fingerless fists where hands had been, features burned beyond recognition.

  She sobbed until she choked, then she lay her head against the hay, letting the tears roll down her cheeks. She hated Russia. She hated Domnya.

  “Kate?”

  She heard Bellamy Townsend’s tentative voice, but she could not answer. Shivering uncontrollably, she curled up against the hay, hoping he would not find her. She didn’t want to speak to anyone.

  The stall door creaked behind her, and he stood over her for a moment, then he dropped to his knees beside her. “For whatever comfort it gives you, Kate, I do not understand them either. When I saw it, I was as sick as you are.”

  “You c-could not b-be.” She lay, her face away from him, her cheek still against the hay. She felt his hand smooth the wrapper over her shoulder.

  She was freezing cold, and she did not seem to know it. Sharing her horror, he sought to comfort her by drawing her into his lap. She resisted at first, then turned her wet face into his shoulder and sobbed. Holding her close, he pulled his cloak around both of them.

  “How c-could L-Lexy allow it? How c-could Galena?” she cried. “Bell, they l-let a little b-boy die, and they are not even a-ashamed of it!”

  He shifted her in his arms, trying to give her warmth. She was so cold, it frightened him. He held her silently for a time, letting her weep against him, as he silently cursed all of them—Sofia, Gregori, Galena, Alexei. Finally, he could stand it no longer.

  “Don’t, Kate,” he whispered into the crown of her hair. “It isn’t your fault—it isn’t your fault. These Russians are not like us. They don’t understand us.”

  “I d-don’t understand them!”

  “Shhhh. I know—neither do I.”

  “It was a little b-boy—he could not have b-been above five,” she said brokenly. “What d-did he ever do to d-deserve—? Bell, he b-burned to death!”

  “The smoke probably got him first.” As soon as he said it, Bell wished the words back. “I don’t think he felt it,” he added lamely.

  “I heard him scream—I h-heard him!” She clutched his shoulders as though she had to make him believe her. “I did not know what it was, but his cries woke me up!”

  “There was nothing you could have done.”

  “M-maybe I could have stopped them—if I’d known—”

  “Shhhh.” Without thinking, he tilted her back and brushed his lips against hers. “Don’t, Kate,” he whispered. “Please don’t cry.”

  Her arms closed around his neck, clinging to him, and he could taste the salt of her tears. His hands twined in her dark hair, and for a moment, he lost himself in her response to him. His mouth moved on hers, seeking more as her lips parted with an eagerness he’d not suspected. Suddenly, she struggled to sit, her face white, her dark eyes filled with self-loathing. She was shaking.

  “You must think me no better than—than—” she choked out.

  “The fault was mine, Kate.” He let her stand and turn away from him. “Look, I’m sorry—truly. I guess I forgot who you were for a moment.”

  “I have n-not the excuse. I was merely lonely.” Wrapping her arms about her like a shield, she started for the open half door. “I’d b-best go back.”

  “It’s an old habit—one that does not end easily.” He held out his hands, then dropped them. “I guess I am as lonely as you are.”

  “You?” she asked incredulously.

  “Surprising, isn’t it?” He fell in beside her, and when she sank nearly knee-deep in the heavy snow, he caught her elbow. “Here—you are going to catch your death.” Reluctantly, he shed the warmth of his cloak and threw it over her.

  The cold wind cut like a knife through his clothing, slicing to the bone, and crystallized snow whipped around him, stinging his face. When Katherine stumbled against him, he wrapped his arms around her and struggled with her to the house.

  Galena was waiting when they reached the house, her displeasure obvious. “Ekaterina, you risk everything with your foolishness!” she snapped.

  “Leave her alone,” Bell gasped, trying to exhale the cold air from his lungs. “She’s got to get warm.”

  Galena went to the foot of the stairs to call for Katherine’s maid. “Maria! Maria!” Turning back, she said, “Maria has prepared some tea for Ekaterina, and Madame Popov will bring up the laudanum. Come,” she ordered the younger woman, “we must get you into your warmed bed, and hope you have not harmed yourself or your babe.”

  “I d-don’t want any l-laudanum, Lena,” Katherine protested. “I won’t d-drink it.”

  “You are behaving as a spoiled child,” Alexei’s sister countered.

  “She is found?” Tatiana Volskaya asked.

  “Yes.” Nearly ignoring the girl, Galena marched toward Katherine’s bedchamber. Once inside, she spun around to face her. “Ekaterina,” she said stiffly, “you have shamed Alexei Petrovich in his own house.”

  For a moment, Katherine gaped, then she found her voice. “I have s-shamed him! Lena, he did not c-care that a little b-boy burned to death in this house!”

  “You will not shout.”

  “I will shout if I wish, Lena! I am m-mistress of Domnya!”

  “There was nothing he could do, I tell you! Go to bed, Ekaterina.”

  “No. I am n-not a child, Lena—I am with child! And there is a d-difference!” Pulling off her wrapper, Katherine went to one of the ornate wardrobes and drew out a dress. Still shaking almost uncontrollably from the cold, she announced, “I am going to d-discover the m-mother of that boy and tell her how s-sorry I am this has happened.” Moving away from Alexei’s sister, she dragged the gown down over her head and tried to button it with cold-stiffened fingers. When Maria attempted to assist her, she shook her head. “I am n-not a helpless ninny! There—you see, I have d-dressed myself!” She strode to her writing desk and found her allowance box. Emptying it, she stuffed the money in one of her reticules.

  “What are you doing, Ekaterina?” Galena demanded.

  “Money c-cannot replace the boy, but perhaps she will be able to use it.”

  “You cannot give that to a serf! Boris!” Galena shouted. “Boris!” As Katherine went back into the hall, the older woman caught her. “Boris! Ekaterina, look at yourself—you are sick!”

  “Leave me alone, Lena!”

  Galena barked orders to the burly manservant, and he took Katherine’s hand apologetically. “Ee dyomtye samnoy, dahma.”

  “I don’t want to c-come with anyone!”

  “You have frozen yourself, Ekaterina! If you do not care for your own health, think of your son!”

  “When I h-hold my son, I shall think of that boy’s m-mother,” Katherine countered.

  “Dahma, please,” Maria pleaded.

  “Speak Russian, you idio
t!” Galena snapped, rounding on the maid furiously. “You have nothing to say in the matter! Madame Popov, the laudanum!”

  It was obvious that Boris did not want to hurt Katherine, but as Galena’s temper heightened, he literally picked up her and carried her to her bed. The main housekeeper came, bottle and spoon in hand, and while Galena held Katherine down and Boris forced her mouth open, she poured two full spoons into the younger woman’s mouth.

  Katherine gagged and nearly brought it up. “You are supposed to put it in water!” she cried. “Vada, Maria! Vada!”

  But it was Galena herself who carried the water back to the bed. Standing over Katherine, she said sternly, “You will drink, then you will sleep. And in the morning, everything will be better, Ekaterina. Tonight I will tell everyone you are ill.”

  Defeated, Kate turned on her side and rolled into a ball. “I do not believe Lexy knows you do this to me, Lena,” she muttered as Maria threw a heavy blanket over her. “Lexy would n-not t-treat me thus!”

  Ignoring her now, Alexei’s sister gestured to the warming pan, indicating she wanted it. Dutifully, Maria filled it with coals and brought it back. Moving Katherine’s feet over, she slid the hot pan between the covers. Satisfied, Galena left.

  Katherine felt sick all the way to her soul. How could they not care? Even a man like Bellamy Townsend cared. They were so wrong, so very wrong.

  Maria removed the pan, she slid her feet to the hot place on her bed, seeking the warmth. Already she could feel the effect of the laudanum, and she was so dizzy she could scarce think. She closed her eyes against it and tried not to fall into the black pit of sleep.

  On the morrow, she was going to reason with Alexei. On the morrow, she was going to make him understand how wrong things were at Domnya. On the morrow, she was going to make things different.

  But as she ceased struggling, as the cold subsided, she no longer tried to think. Instead, she clung to the kindness in Bell Townsend’s voice, the warmth of his furlined cloak, and finally to the remembered comfort of his kiss. The drug made her detached, giddy even. And as she finally succumbed, she wanted to tell Claire that Bell Townsend had kissed her.

  Downstairs, Alexei Volsky faced Bell over a large glass of brandy. For a long time, he sat, saying nothing, then he rose and walked to the fire. Finally, he cleared his throat. “It was a mistake for Lena to invite you.”