Daughter of the Raven

by Cherime MacFarlane

  Resolving that once the basket was empty, it would become storage for her writing materials, Anya replaced the contents of the basket. Charles had already checked it and found nothing. He probably would applaud her attempt at economy by reusing the container.

  Anya felt that it might be quite easy to conceal a bit more money in the lining, particularly bills. In the meantime the gold in her shoes gave her morale a boost. She was not penniless, thanks to Leontine.

  Leontine and Samuel did invite Dmitri and Camille to dinner. Leontine was quite sure they would not accept the invitation. They were both quite sad at the loss of Anya and the sorry state the young woman now found herself in. Leontine was a bit more quiet than usual on the drive home from the depot.

  When they arrived home, Samuel handed her carefully down from the carriage, taking her arm as they entered the house. "You have been very quiet my girl. Are you feeling out of sorts?" Her husband had a small frown between his eyes.

  Leontine stepped closer to Samuel and smiled up at him. "Worried about me are you?"

  "I was concerned, yes. You are really beginning to show. I do not want anything to happen to the both of you."

  Leontine's dark eyes danced as she took her husband's hand and gave him a small pat. "Sam, you are just like a really good wine, you are getting better with age."

  He ducked his head then bent to kiss her cheek. "Ah, now! Don't tell that to any of those sailors I have to crack the whip over. We can not have it getting out that I am a push over for my wife."

  She took his arm. "Certainly not! You old meanie. Come out to the garden with me. We can watch the fog clear away. I would like a bit of quiet time with you."

  Dmitri tipped the cab driver when the horse drawn cab left them at the door of their residence. They herded the children into the house then hung up their coats on the hall coat tree.

  "Would you two like a snack? Camille asked the youngsters.

  "Please!" Both little voices replied to her question.

  "Come along then. A bit of apple each?"

  "Yes, please!"

  Dmitri followed his wife and children into the kitchen. Camille chose an apple from a bowl on the table and handed it to her husband. Taking out his knife, Dmitri cut the apple in half, handing a piece to each child.

  "Go play in the garden children. Perhaps later, we can all go for a short walk."

  Dmitri sat at the table staring at the fruit bowl. "Care to share an apple with me?"

  Camille nodded. He took another apple from the bowl and split it in half.

  "Today, then it is enough." He did not look at her, as he cored the fruit.

  "I agree." Camille replied quietly.

  Dmitri bit into the apple chewed it, then swallowed.

  "We have children to raise and a business to run. Today is the end of it. I will always be praying for her, but I can do no more."

  Camille looked at her husband. "As will I. Life will be different without her, but each of these children will grow and leave us. Hopefully their departures will be more pleasant. We have each other and Dmi and Lexi deserve to have a happy childhood. It is time to let go."

  Mr. Barrow had given him the day off to find a more permanent residence than the rooming house where he was presently living. Stanislaus had little inclination and less interest in taking Mr. Barrow's suggestion regarding buying a home. Being on his own in a home large enough for a family did not appeal. Very little other than work appealed to him.

  Although glad Dmitri had opened a branch of the business in Seattle, Stanislaus could not understand why anyone would want to live in the boom town. True, the harbor was good. However, it was as wild a place as Stanislaus had ever seen. A man could easily wind up dead in Seattle.

  Mr. Barrow had purchased a place on a hill, some distance from the business district. Luckily it had not burned in the fire of 1889. It had a small clapboard house on the property. According to his supervisor, it also had an excellent view along with sufficient acreage to construct a suitable home for a family at a later date.

  Stanislaus knew the older man was eager to rejoin his two grown daughters in San Francisco. They each had produced several grandchildren and he was ready to turn the reins of the business over to Stanislaus.

  For many years he had carried the load of the Count's business in San Francisco, then in Seattle. The gentleman was ready to retire to his garden in San Francisco and his grand children.

  Ruefully acknowledging to himself, he was going to look at the property as a favor to his supervisor, Stanislaus followed the old man's directions. When he rode up to the little white clapboard house, he was not immediately impressed. It was when he rode past the house, to a level area several feet higher than the existing house that Stanislaus got off of his horse to look about him in amazement. As described, the view out over the surrounding area was impressive. This portion of the land would some day be highly sought after.

  The town was expanding at an alarming rate. He would not be surprised to see this area swept up into that rapid growth. Intrigued, he went to look at the house. The housekeeper came in on a daily basis. The widow lady would continue to work for the new owner, if needed.

  The woman who opened the door was trim and neat. As he followed her through the house. Stanislaus was pleased to find a bathroom with facilities. Barrow had spared no expense in renovating the small, but well-furnished home. There was a kitchen of ample proportions, a mud room off the entrance to the stable, bedroom and a combination sitting room and study. I was sufficient for a bachelor.

  Stanislaus walked around to the stable. It was as neat and tidy as the rest of the property. There was a kitchen garden which Mr. Barrow tended.

  Gardening was a worthwhile hobby. It would provide vegetables for the table and beauty for the house in the form of flowers. A garden was something Stanislaus knew how to tend, after all the years he had helped Anton with the garden on the island.

  A light breeze stirred the plants and sighed through the trees. It was green and as lush as Bressoff Island, his home. There was a certain peace about the place which soothed his wounds. Stanislaus found he felt at home in this little place away from the bustle of Seattle. On the spot, he decided to go back to the office and make Mr. Barrow an offer for the property. Perhaps here, he could heal.

  Anya's letters to her parents were full of the thrill of travel. Her excitement at seeing Paris and the amazement she felt at seeing St. Petersburg for the first time filled the sheets of paper. The Russian city known as the Venice of the North, with its canals and the beautiful buildings seemed to captivate her.

  As Charles was a very junior officer in the legation, their quarters were small, but sufficient for a newly married couple. She detailed her shopping expeditions to furnish their new home.

  To Leontine, Anya conveyed the grim details. The extravagant amount Charles handed to her with a smile in Paris with which she was to purchase frocks, restricted her choice greatly. Leontine's grandniece was forced to locate several upscale used clothing shops where she made very careful purchases.

  The cheerful wondering around St. Petersburg searching for just the right thing was in reality, a desperate hunt for used furniture, which would pass her husband's careful inspection. It was to Leontine that Anya confided her growing suspicion that Charles felt their standard of living far surpassed what she had grown up with. In short, he felt she had lived in a log hut eating nothing but wild game in Alaska.

  Her tiny nest egg was not being supplemented. It was all Anya could do to keep from dipping into the panic funds still hidden in her shoes. Shoes, which would soon need replaced. She was frantically calculating how she was to manage it on the tiny allowance granted her each month. Charles also expected her to support a maid and cook from her household funds.

  Anya was thankful to Nita for all the cooking lessons throughout the years on the island. What had begun as a means to entertain a child, had given her the education needed to serve an adequate breakfast to her very picky hu
sband.

  Often, Anya skipped lunch. The cook she retained came in only for the evening meal. The young wife acted as scullery maid in the early morning hours after Charles left for work.

  The maid she retained worked for a reduced salary in exchange for English lessons, both in reading and writing. Berta further assured her, if Anya were willing to take on two more students, there were those who would pay to learn.

  Anya determined she would give it consideration. First, she would need to discover the best way of doing so without Charles realizing she was bringing a bit of money in on the side.

  They had reached St. Petersburg at the very end of winter for which Anya was grateful. She did not look forward to the expense of heating their quarters.

  Her anxiety level increased when Charles began to complain to her about the lowliness of his position. Being restricted in their ability to entertain due to lack of space, was doubly irritating to her husband.

  "All I get to do is shuffle papers here! There is no opportunity to advance." He complained.

  "We have only been here a month, Charles." Anya spread a tiny smear of butter on her toast. "I would imagine your excellent grasp of the political situation will shortly be recognized."

  "No, I need to cultivate the right people. I need to put a bit of pressure on the old man."

  She kept her tone light. "How does one do that?"

  Charles looked around him at the tiny dining nook. "We need better quarters, somewhere where we can entertain. I must bring in those in the know, the ones who cause things to happen."

  "That will be a big expenditure. We would need another maid, a butler and help in the kitchen for the cook when giving parties." Anya wondered if Charles was really up to letting go of the funds necessary for his new undertaking.

  "Yes, indeed." He spread a nice thick layer of preserves on his toast then took a second cup of coffee.

  Anya was sorry to see the last of the coffee go into his cup. She sipped at her half cup, which would be all she would have this morning. "Have you any idea of the cost of a new apartment? And won't we have to leave the compound if we look for a bigger place?" She asked quietly.

  "Yes to both questions. Later today I am going to meet with a gentleman who has just finished a new apartment complex overlooking one of the canals. When I return tonight, I will tell you about it."

  Charles left and she claimed the last piece of toast he had partially eaten. Anya relished the taste of the fruity preserves. Waste not, want not. The extra coffee would have gone well with the toast, she thought, as she licked a small drip off one finger.

  "Anya!" Charles shouted for her when he returned that evening. "We are going to move!"

  Instructing the maid to place the dinner dishes on the small sideboard, Anya turned. "You rented a place already?"

  Charles looked at her blankly for a moment. "Did I not mention I was viewing a possible new residence today?"

  "You did, but I thought that we might look at it together before you actually finalized the agreement." Anya's hands shook, as she watched Charles place his coat on the hall tree.

  "No need. It is exactly what I wanted. It will give us adequate room to proceed."

  Anya turned away and hurried to the kitchen to tell the cook good night and to make sure the breakfast things were laid out. Anger built within her to a degree she had not experienced in a very long time.

  Several pots resting on the table sailed across the kitchen. The cook scuttled out of the door without a sound. Anya reached for the kitchen table and stood there, hands clenched on its edge. He had not even bothered to consider her in the matter. All she was to him was a decorative bed ornament.

  "No, no!" Reining in her growing resentment and frustration, Anya forced herself to be calm

  It would not be good to lose her temper with her husband. If he turned her out in this foreign country, it could be very dangerous for her. Any other country in the world, she could have managed, but not here. There would be consequences however, tonight his bedmate was not feeling up to being cooperative.

  Charles lay on his side of the bed contemplating his wife's aberrant behavior. Anya had turned away his overtures this evening with what she termed, a disagreeable digestive problem. That was not like her.

  Anya had proven to be quite satisfactory in that particular area of wifely duties. So much so, he had not felt it necessary to spend any money or time on satisfying his needs elsewhere. He did detect a bit of tension from her side of the bed which led him to believe she was still awake and quite put out.

  The reason for her irritation escaped him. They were to move out of this miserable little hole and into a grand new apartment. He had sufficient funds in his personal account to add some new furniture.

  Unfortunately, Anya had been correct in assuming his outlay would rise. A new maid, butler and kitchen help would be required. The rent on their new residence would also be a bit higher than he would have liked. Taken all together, it would entail spending a third of the income presently being generated by the Count's generous gift to the marriage.

  Well, no matter. Charles thought. Her fit of pique would pass once Anya saw the wonderful new place. Its spacious dining and sitting rooms would afford them the space needed for some first class entertainment in the future.

  It would go a long way toward allowing him to make his mark here. Charles Keetering had no intention of staying a junior in the Russian service. Now, the only question was, could his bride from Alaska Territory perform her duties as hostess properly? That discussion he would leave for a later date. Charles rolled over and went to sleep.

  Anya hovered on the very edge of the mattress. If she even touched him, she might explode. After a time she heard the even rhythm of his breathing. The man was asleep. Too hurt and angry to sleep, she left the bed and went to the kitchen for a glass of water. The little writing basket was tucked away on a shelf. Anya took it down, removed her writing materials from it and began a letter to Leontine.

  "Today Charles has finally proven he is the very shallowest of men. He rented a new apartment suitable for entertaining without so much as allowing me to see it before signing the rental agreement. He is ready to release the necessary funds to maintain this new residence as he feels he is not being put forward sufficiently."

  For a moment she stopped writing. Anya listened closely but all was quiet.

  "We have only been here a month! How can he expect to be promoted past junior without even proving his worth? If I were not in this country, I would leave him right this minute. But we are moving out of the embassy compound, so I fear I must be as compliant as I can force myself to be, under the circumstance. I am a bigger fool than the arrogant skinflint I married, because I married him. Please give my love to my parents. I cannot write to them at this moment as I might say something I would regret later. Your loving niece, Anya."

  That cleared a bit of the tension out of her. Anya sealed the envelope, addressed it and tucked it away in her purse. She did not want Charles to read the letter.

  Three days later they had moved into the new apartment. It was certainly a far cry from the tiny living space they left. Charles was quite cheerful when he gave her marching orders the next morning.

  She was to engage a butler, maid and kitchen help. As the next day was Sunday, they would, of course, attend church. As always, Charles would take his Sabbath rest.

  Then Friday after next, Charles planned to begin his campaign of influencing the proper people with a small dinner party for six.

  "Will you need help of any sort, such as table settings and menu? If so, I think I could prevail on Allen to have his wife give you pointers. After all they are quite popular and an invitation from them is never turned down."

  Anya was seething. "Charles, I do recall that you met my stepmother?"

  "Certainly. What does she have to do with this?" He asked with a puzzled frown.

  "Her family had a huge plantation in Louisiana before the conflict. They hosted balls
and gave parties. I have been tutored quite well in that area."

  There was a sheen to her eyes he had not seen before along with a hint of color on her high cheekbones. Charles realized his wife was extremely upset.

  "Living in the wilds of Alaska certainly did not give you any avenue to test your skills. So how can you know you are up to this?" He tried to put it to her in a reasonable tone.

  "Sitka is, or was known as the Paris of the North. There were balls and rounds of parties through the fall months. We are not in the hinterlands there!"

  "Very good! I will expect a most excellent evening then." Deciding to put an end to the discussion, Charles left the house hurriedly.

  It was a bit further to get to the embassy from his new apartment and he did not wish to be late. Anya would be given a chance to prove her worth. If she failed in this however, there would be changes made.

  Anya wanted to break something. Certainly there was something...... Going into the kitchen, the young woman grabbed a butcher knife. Near blind with hurt and anger, she dashed out the back door into the small garden. Plopping down in an out of the way corner, she vigorously rammed the knife into the earth and turned it up. The entire time she cursed in French and Tlingit.

  She was done! It was over! As soon as she could get out of Russia, she was going home. Let all of polite society be damned to hell! What did she care! She would go home and never set foot out of Alaska again. No matter what it took, she would be free of Charles, Mr. Oh-So-Wonderful, Keetering.'

  While sitting at his desk, Keetering toyed with the wording of the invitations. After a time he made a decision. He wanted every advantage possible. Part of his reason for marrying Anya was for her name. What was her title worth, if it could not be used?

  Certainly his father in law had exaggerated the situation. St. Petersburg was a modern city. They were Americans. What possible problem could come from using Anya's maiden name?

  Charles stopped at the printers where he ordered invitations to his little get together. The hostess was listed as Anya Bressoff Keetering. The clerk assured Charles the invitations would be available the next day, after he handed over a small fee for expedited consideration.