by Sara Judge
The time had to be right before she dared to mention Father Grigorii and Valerie felt she needed to know Tassya better, in order to make sure she could keep a secret.
The girl worshipped her tall, goodlooking brother but she must not be allowed to speak about plans with the great healer to Pyotr. He would never let his sister make the long journey to St Petersburg if he suspected she was going to meet the man he detested.
‘I am sure Mother would agree to you coming here again,’ said Tassya, ‘and I want you to look upon Mavara as your second home.’
‘I should like that,’ said Valerie.
‘We have eight indoor servants,’ Tassya went on, enjoying herself now that Valerie was concentrating on her, ‘four men and four women. They are really too many, but as I need Dunya all the time, that only leaves three for the cleaning and washing and ironing and sewing.’
‘What about the cooking?’ said Valerie.
Eight servants were far more than they had at home, where Mrs Duffy did all the work with just little Polly to help her. But the vicarage was tiny compared to Mavara, and there was a butcher’s shop, and a greengrocer, just down the road.
‘The cooking is done by Sidor Novatko, and even Feodor bows to his wishes in the kitchen, although Feodor is in charge of everything else in the house.’ Tassya gave the black-clad man a fleeting smile as she spoke. ‘Sidor Novatko has a boy to help with the wood for the stove, and for preparing the vegetables, and cleaning the silver. Our other man, Dimitry, is rather old and sleeps a lot, but he looks after the lamps.’
She went on to explain that Dunya slept with her, but the other three females slept upstairs next to her mother’s bedroom, in the linen room.
‘And where Dashka will be unless you want her with you at night?’
Valerie shook her head.
‘It’s so that Mother can hear if there is any nonsense,’ she grinned.
‘And the men all sleep downstairs,’ Tassya went on. ‘Feodor on a bed in the pantry, and the others on the kitchen floor.’
‘Mrs Duffy wouldn’t take kindly to sleeping on the floor!’ said Valerie.
‘But they have always slept like that.’ Tassya sounded surprised. ‘And they are fortunate in having proper meals every day and clothes provided by Mother. You should see how the moujiks live, Valerie.’
‘Moujiks?’ That was the name Pyotr had given to Father Grigorii.
‘Moujiks are the real peasants,’ said Tassya, ‘who live in thatched huts with clay stoves and have too many children. They are all free now because we do not have serfs in Russia any more, but sometimes I think they were better off when they were owned. Especially if they had a kind master. During some bad winters I’ve seen them begging all through Kamenka and it’s a horrid sight,’ she said sadly.
‘Can you not help them?’ said Valerie.
There was poverty in England, too, and during the winter months Valerie and Mrs Duffy ran a soup kitchen, organized by her father.
‘Help them?’ said Tassya, her eyes wide. ‘How can we, when there is famine and we are in trouble ourselves? Anyway, Mother says if they will have so many children, and if they won’t look after their land properly, it is their own fault if they starve. There are hundreds and hundreds of moujiks, Valerie. We couldn’t possibly feed them all.’
Surely Mavara, with its vast lands, could give something to the poor in times of disaster? Wasn’t there game in the wooded areas, and timber for fires? But it was no good arguing with Tassya, who had problems enough of her own, so Valerie changed the subject.
‘As soon as we have finished breakfast you must show me around. I am longing to see Mavara in daylight.’
Tassya’s face brightened. ‘I will show my English friend everything. Dunya, call for Conrad to come – we are going out.’
Once the girls had put on their warm outer garments, they joined Conrad in the hall. He was a big burly man with a wide Slavic face and a cheery grin. He lifted Tassya’s chair with ease down the steps and out into the yard. Then the tour of inspection began along the snow-shovelled paths.
‘This is my favourite place,’ said Tassya, ‘and Manya, the baker woman, will give us a piece of her plum cake to take on our drive to Kamenka this afternoon.’
She explained that Sidor Novatko did not attempt to make bread or any cakes or biscuits. His task was to prepare proper meals for the household.
Valerie thought the bakery would be her favourite place, too. It was a big, high-ceilinged room with tall windows overlooking the yard, and a tantalizing smell of vanilla and cinnamon adding to that of newly baked bread. On a table near the door was an array of jars filled with many different jams.
‘Manya makes all our jams, as well,’ said Tassya, as Dunya rolled her chair forward to greet the large smiling baker woman, who was kneading dough at another table.
After that visit, with two good slices of plum cake wrapped in a white cloth ready for their afternoon’s expedition, Valerie followed Tassya to the hammam.
Tassya couldn’t think of a word to translate this, neither could Valerie, but she supposed it was a kind of bath-house. An enormous boiler filled one corner of the large room and rows of wooden shelves lined the opposite wall.
‘We have two bathrooms in the house,’ Tassya said, ‘but we come here on a Saturday evening, which is the proper time for the hammam.’
‘What are those shelves for?’
Tassya gave a contented sigh.
‘On Saturday afternoon the boiler is lit underneath and fill ed with water. Slowly the steam rises and the room gets lovely and hot. Mother and I have our hair washed, and then Dunya washes my body and I lie on one of those shelves covered with a towel and feel really content. Mother does the same.’
‘It must be good to have that warmth, and I’m sure your mother must benefit after all her hard work. But doesn’t it get too hot, sometimes?’
Valerie didn’t think she would like to be shut in a room full of steam.
‘No, but it is best in winter when the snow is all over the yard and we come into this wonderful warmth.’ Tassya paused. ‘In the summer we used to go down to the lake,’ she said, ‘but I can’t do that now and Petya is away so much, and Mother is too busy, so our lovely picnics have stopped.’
If Tassya could meet Father Grigorii, and if he could help her, perhaps she would be going down to the lake next year?
Sighing, Valerie followed Dunya as she pushed the chair back towards the house.
‘Hurry,’ called Tassya, as the English girl’s footsteps dragged behind her, ‘we must go and prepare ourselves as Conrad will have the troika ready by noon. We go to Kamenka early as it gets dark so quickly these days.’
Just before setting off for Kamenka, Valerie saw Pyotr again.
‘May I come in?’ he called softly, knocking at her bedroom door.
As she went to open it she was already wearing her red fox fur coat and matching hat.
‘Are you happy, Little England?’ He closed the door behind him and reached out for her. ‘Are you enjoying your first visit to Mavara?’
Valerie nodded, placing her hands on his chest. ‘I am enjoying it very much and Tassya and I are just off to Kamenka. But last night was a mistake, Pyotr. You must not come to my room again.’ Giving a little push she stepped back from him.
‘Not come? But when can I see you – talk to you alone? It is impossible to tell you what is in my heart when my mother and sister are always present.’ She couldn’t deny him – not after the unfolding passion of last night. She couldn’t refuse to see him when Mavara was the only place they could be alone together – the place where they could share their love for the first time. ‘Tassya did not hear us? She does not suspect?’
‘No, but—’
‘Then it is quite safe for me to come to you, Varinka and I shall come again tonight. But perhaps a little later – once we are sure that Tassya sleeps.’
He reached for her again, but Valerie retreated, shaking her head. There wa
s no lock to her door, nor bolt, but she would pull her bed across to block his entry. She had to remain strong, had to remember that she was a clergyman’s daughter and brought up to remain pure until marriage.
And there was still the shadow of Sophia, despite Pyotr’s denials.
‘Pyotr, you have got to understand,’ she said. ‘You invited me to Mavara to see your home, and to meet Tassya. I came as your friend, not your lover, as I am sure Empress Alexandra intended. Neither she, nor my father, would look kindly on your behaviour.’
She had to convince him, had to make him see what was in her mind, if not her heart. But Pyotr would not listen.
‘That was not the way you felt last night,’ he said. ‘You love me, Varinka, you know you do. And I have only to take you in my arms again and you will give in.’
She knew she would. That was the reason there must always be space between them and no more nocturnal visits.
‘Valerie, are you ready? The troika is ready and Conrad has come for me. Please make haste, my friend.’
Pyotr started at the sound of Tassya’s voice, and Valerie was able to pass him and open the door.
‘I’m coming!’ she called, then looked back into the room. ‘Don’t spoil these days, Pyotr. Let us enjoy them calmly and with friendship. I am so grateful for your invitation, but I mean it about tonight.’ She looked across at him with steady eyes. ‘Do not waste time in coming – I shall not change my mind.’
With a muffled curse, Pyotr strode out behind her, as she went to join Tassya and he went to join his mother in the study. There was still much paperwork to be sorted out, though whether he could concentrate with his thoughts in turmoil, he didn’t know.
Valerie loved him. He knew she did. So why was she playing this prim-and-proper role? Did she hope to trick him into marriage? Of course such a move was quite impossible, but before being totally committed to Sophia, he wished for a few months of happiness with his Varinka.
When the two girls set off in the troika, which was larger than a sleigh and drawn by three horses, they carried with them the precious kopecks that Pyotr had given them.
It was just as well they had received the coins earlier, thought Valerie. He might not have been so generous to her after their recent encounter. She felt miserable about hurting him, but he had to realize that she would not become his mistress.
Forcing herself to concentrate on what Tassya was saying, she turned her head to listen as the girl prattled on. Dunya was not with them as there was no room for a fourth person, and both Conrad and Valerie could assist Tassya.
‘They are all Jewish shops in Kamenka and the Jews sell everything,’ she was saying. ‘What do you want to buy, Valerie?’
Valerie pondered. There was nothing she really wanted for herself and little point in taking anything back for Olga. The Imperial family possessed everything money could buy – apart from freedom and good health for the tsarevich.
‘I can’t think of anything at the moment,’ she said. ‘What about you, Tassya?’
‘Paper and envelopes,’ said the girl. ‘So I can write to you when you go away.’
Valerie smiled. ‘And I promise to answer every letter,’ she said.
‘Will you really? Then I shan’t feel that you have gone so very far away,’ said Tassya softly.
It would be a pleasing form of contact for both of them, but particularly for Tassya, with her lonely life stuck in the wheelchair. However, Valerie’s heart lifted in hope, perhaps quite soon they would meet again in St Petersburg.
Maybe this evening, if Tassya were not too weary, maybe she could go next door and tell her about the miraculous powers of Grigorii Rasputin?
When they reached the main street of the village, Conrad carried Tassya and her chair over the snow and into one of the small, single-storeyed shops. Valerie followed, her eyes roaming all over the items for sale. She intended giving Pyotr’s sister her writing paper, but hoped for something extra, as well. She wanted some little gift with which to surprise her.
After studying the soap and bottles of perfume, the pencils and crockery, the candles and lamp-holders, all jammed together on the shelves, she saw what she wanted. She stepped away from Tassya, who was busy bartering with the Jewish shopkeeper, and touched Conrad’s arm.
It would be easier to deal with him than with a stranger, and Valerie’s Russian was still very shaky.
After showing Conrad how many kopecks she had, Valerie pointed at the bottles of perfume then put her finger to her lips and nodded in Tassya’s direction. The big man understood and beamed at her before speaking to the second attendant. At once several bottles were brought out for her inspection.
Unfortunately, the price of that plus the writing paper and envelopes, was more than she could afford. But with much shaking of her head and showing the amount in her hand, and with Conrad’s bearlike figure looming over them, Valerie managed to purchase all three items.
Luckily Tassya had surprises of her own and was not curious about Valerie’s shopping.
‘I have bought you something special for when you go away,’ she said, clutching a small paper bag on her lap. ‘But you are not to see it until you leave Mavara.’
‘Then I will give you mine at the same time,’ said Valerie, ‘and it will be like Christmas!’
As they left the shop it was already turning dark and there was a bitter wind blowing down the street. Conrad lifted Tassya’s chair onto the troika, then handed both girls extra furs to place around their knees and shoulders. Then he clambered up in front and called to the horses to make for home.
‘It’s going to snow again,’ said Tassya, sniffing the air. ‘I hope we have a blizzard and get snowed in. Then you won’t be able to leave us.’
Valerie smiled at the bright face beside her, thankful for the extra furs and for the warm coat Olga had given her. Winters in Russia were far colder and fiercer than English ones, and her grey wool coat would have been useless in these icy temperatures.
Perhaps the wind was blowing all the way from the Siberian wastes, she thought, and was about to bring up the subject of Grigorii Rasputin, when Tassya interrupted her.
‘If we were snowed in for days Pyotr would fall in love with you and forget all about Sophia Lukaev,’ she said.
‘Has Sophia been to Mavara?’
‘Only once, but her visit seemed to last for ages. Her parents were with her and Mother was all silly and trying too hard to please,’ said Tassya. ‘It was most embarrassing.’
‘I am surprised they didn’t announce their engagement then,’ said Valerie, with a sick feeling in her heart.
‘Pyotr is awfully stubborn and won’t be pushed,’ said his sister. ‘The more Mother, and Sophia, and her parents, tried to please him the colder he became. Mother was very cross with him after they’d gone.’
‘If they are not engaged what makes you think she will become his wife?’
‘Because I heard Mother telling him he must propose to Sophia this year or she’ll have to sell Mavara.’
So that was that. For the rest of the drive both girls were silent, immersed in their own thoughts. But as the troika reached Mavara and turned in between the iron gates, Tassya let out a gasp.
‘We’ve got visitors!’
She leaned forward in her chair and stared at the brightly lit forecourt.
Two sleighs were drawn up by the front steps, one empty the other being unloaded by a tall man in a long fur coat and fur hat, and a harassed looking Feodor.
‘Who can it be? We never have visitors. Is it a friend of Pyotr’s?’
As Conrad halted the troika and jumped down to lift out Tassya’s chair, the tall man came down the steps and called out a greeting.
‘Good evening, Tassya, remember me?’
‘It’s Andrei!’ cried Tassya. ‘Hurry, Conrad, get me into the house! It’s Andrei Odarka, Valerie,’ she called back over her shoulder, as Conrad carried the chair up the steps.
‘I remember him,’ said Valerie, fol
lowing them into the house.
In the hallway Pyotr was waiting, concern on his lean face.
‘You are late!’ he said, his blue eyes dark with annoyance. ‘Mother is in a dreadful state with these unexpected guests and you were not here to welcome them.’ He glared at Valerie as if it was her fault.
‘We are back now so your mother needn’t worry,’ she said.
‘And it was such fun spending your money, dear brother, thank you for being so generous,’ said Tassya, smiling up at him.
But Pyotr was not appeased.
‘Go and change for dinner,’ he snapped. ‘Dunya is waiting in your room.’
He did not look at Valerie again, but strode past her to the door and began shouting orders to Conrad about the horses.
‘Sorry to have caused you stress,’ said Andrei, following his friend back into the hall, with Feodor close on his heels. ‘There, that’s the lot now. I’ll take these up to Sophia and then join you for a drink, Petya.’
After Andrei had left the hall, Pyotr was further annoyed to see the two girls still sorting out their purchases.
‘Take Tassya to her room, Valerie,’ he said brusquely, ‘then come and join us in the drawing room when you are ready.’
What a shattering day it had been. As he watched the English girl wheel his sister away down the passage, her back ramrod straight, he decided he needed a drink before Andrei came to join him.
First there had been the maddening behaviour of Valerie Marsh refusing to see him in her room that night. Then he and his mother had spent hours over the books in her study, making him realize just how bad the financial problems at Mavara really were.
Then Tassya and Valerie had been late returning and when horses did eventually arrive, they had been drawing sleighs carrying Andrei and Sophia with enough luggage for a fortnight’s stay.
His mother was now having to organize meals for two extra and unwelcome guests, as well as having fires lit in the normally unheated spare bedrooms, and sorting out blankets and linen for the unaired beds.