Abbie put out her arms and gave her brother a big hug. ‘Don’t worry. I was a bit on my high horse too, so we’ll call it quits, shall we, and agree a truce?’ They both grinned and slapped hands.
Tom shook his head with a resigned sigh. ‘Just as they used to do when they were kids. Falling out and falling in the whole darned time. No doubt they’ll be at each other’s throats over something else next week.’
‘Why do they do that?’ little Aimée wanted to know, coming over to see what was going on.
‘Because they aren’t as clever as you, sweetie,’ her Grandpa said, lifting her onto his lap for a kiss and a cuddle.
Abbie smiled, her heart warming to see them so happy together. ‘I suggest we put all of this behind us now, and remember Mum for the life she led and not the manner of her death.’ And as they all lifted their glasses in a toast to her memory, for the first time in years Abbie felt content to be here where she belonged, a part of her family at last.
THIRTY-FIVE
Summer was at its height, the steamer ferrying trippers back and forth across the lake, children fishing for trout and char, families picnicking on the tiny pebble beaches or sailing their dinghies and rowboats. Everyone was enjoying the sunny weather and having a good time. ‘Families are such an important part of life,’ Millie said as the two women walked along arm in arm. ‘Don’t you think?’
‘Indeed they are. I intend to take on another assistant as soon as I can, to allow myself to spend more time with my daughter, perhaps when she comes back from a couple of weeks’ break in France.’ Then after a short pause, Abbie said, ‘I shall have to explain all of this dreadful stuff to her eventually, but hopefully not until she’s old enough to understand and able to deal with it. However, I will be entirely honest with her as I don’t think secrets are a good thing,’ she added, slanting a sideways glance at her grandmother.
Millie had the grace to chuckle. ‘You may well be right. However, it very much depends upon the circumstances. As advised by the Count I opted for silence for safety’s sake. I kept the truth of Kate’s birth a secret because I was always afraid the Countess might come looking for her, as ultimately she did. I was terrified not only of losing my precious daughter, but of what the Countess might do to her. Just as Kate never told me that Olga was subjecting her to blackmail, in case she might intrude upon my life too.’
‘I understand now why Mum was against my joining the business. She was trying to protect me.’ Abbie was thoughtful for some minutes as she considered this quite different viewpoint, and how these fears must have affected their relationship. ‘I’m glad it’s all out in the open now. Whether openness and honesty would have saved Mum, had all of this been known earlier, is impossible to say.’
‘Best not to think about it.’
Giving her grandmother’s hand a gentle squeeze, she asked, ‘So how did you get out of prison?’
‘Babushka rescued me, of course, by paying a huge fine, or perhaps bribe is a more appropriate word. Nyanushki wasn’t well, and both women were suffering badly from hunger. I took over the care of the old dowager, explaining that I’d sent Katya to my home in England to be safe. It was easier to allow her to continue to think the baby was mine, rather than upset her further by telling the truth. She didn’t even know if her daughter was dead or alive. People frequently vanished at that time and were never heard of again, and she’d suffered enough.
‘After the old lady finally passed away from starvation and grief, sometime in 1919, I decided to make a bid to escape over the mountains. Nyanushki planned to join the Count, who remained at his country estate. But she helped, making enormous sacrifices to find me food and get new papers drawn up, and in persuading the bank to allow me to draw sufficient money from the fund set up by the Count to see me safely on my way. We made yet another fond farewell, both of us in tears as we knew we’d be unlikely to ever meet again.
‘I again took a train, then paid a guide to take me over the mountains. We trekked for days through the snow and ice, finally taking shelter in a cave. Despite my best efforts I must have fallen asleep one night out of sheer exhaustion, as I knew nothing more till I woke at dawn, when some strange sound alerted me. I looked around for the guide but he was nowhere to be seen. The man to whom I’d paid an exorbitant sum, almost every last kopek I possessed, had deserted me, and I was quite alone.’
‘Oh Gran, how dreadful, and after all you’d suffered.’
‘I realised that it was the sound of horses’ hooves clattering over rocks that had penetrated my befuddled brain, which indicated I was about to receive some unwelcome company. I fully expected to be set upon by bandits, sat cringing and shivering in my shoes as they marched in. Then a voice said, “What, not even a kiss of welcome?”
‘My eyes shot open in disbelief, and for a moment I thought I was dreaming, or had died and gone to heaven. But there he stood before me, alive and well, my darling Stefan.’
‘Oh, Gran, I don’t believe it! How did that happen? I thought he was dead.’
‘That was yet another of the Countess’s lies. I should have guessed. I doubt she has ever told the truth in her entire life. Stefan had indeed been arrested and put in prison, but he was not executed as the Countess had claimed. Thanks to Nyanushki, who had secretly been making enquiries, she finally found him, managed to convince the guard that he was innocent of the charge, and a further bribe was paid. Stefan was released and then followed my trail as described to him by Nyanushki.’
‘What a good friend she was to you, an absolute treasure.’
Millie kissed her granddaughter’s cheek. ‘She was indeed. Our reunion was exquisite, and very private, so I shall say no more on that score, but freedom was at last in sight. We crossed the Caucasus Mountains, bribing a boatman to take us over the Black Sea. The journey took weeks, months, but we slowly made our way to good old England.’
Abbie looked troubled. ‘So what happened to Stefan after that?’
Now her grandmother’s face was radiant. ‘He deemed it wise to change his name, just to be safe in case the Bolsheviks should come looking for him over that bomb he’d supposedly planted. He took his maternal grandfather’s name of Anton Nabokov.’
‘That’s my grandfather!’
Millie laughed. ‘It is indeed. Our love had been torn apart by a woman who had done us greater harm than the revolution itself. But we went on to enjoy a happy life together until he sadly passed away in 1950, aged sixty-two. He was just four years older than me and we should have had much longer, but he suffered far worse than I did in that prison, so I’m thankful for the blessing of the years we did enjoy together.’
There were tears in Abbie’s eyes as she hugged her grandmother close. ‘You were so very fortunate to have him. He was a lovely man.’
As they made their way back to the lodge house, Abbie said, ‘So what about your friend Ruth? Did you ever meet her again?’
Millie shook her head. ‘I know from her last letter, which I received just before leaving Russia, that she placed Kate in the orphanage at Stepney because she was about to be married and her new husband was not prepared to take on the responsibility for someone else’s child. Money was tight, so it was perfectly reasonable.’
‘So that’s the reason you went all the way to London to adopt a child.’
Millie nodded. ‘I went to find her, yes. And what a joy it was when I did. I just gathered her into my arms and wanted to rush off with her there and then, but of course we needed to make it all legal. That’s the reason Ruth anglicised her name ‒ to keep her safe. I never wanted Kate to know the full story, for reasons I’ve explained. However, she made her own enquiries when she was old enough. Secrets, as you say, are hard to keep forever.’
As she reached the door of the lodge, Abbie paused for a moment before allowing her grandmother to enter. ‘Oh, I forgot to mention that I have a little surprise for you. A secret of my
own I’ve been keeping.’
Millie frowned. ‘What sort of secret might that be?’
‘A good one, Millie Dowthwaite, or so I hope.’
Millie looked wide-eyed at the woman walking towards her, then with tears of joy already rolling down her cheeks, she allowed herself to be gathered up in one of Ruth’s famous hugs.
‘So what of my own love life?’ Abbie asked herself the next day as she sat at her work bench trying her hand at carving a piece of amber. She was practising on a rough chunk, hoping to gain the necessary skills so that she could later work on more valuable pieces. Learning her craft was becoming a real joy to her. She’d slowly fed the piece into a newly purchased diamond-tipped circular saw mounted on the work bench. Now she was sanding it by hand, careful to take her time over the task, as amber is soft and easily scratched or damaged.
Had she been right not to trust Andrew Baxter, or did that reveal a flaw in her own nature, born of her experience with Eduard? Abbie had really no wish to think of Drew right now, but he seemed to be ever-present in her thoughts.
He was no doubt with his alleged ex-wife this very moment.
‘Stop tormenting yourself, girl,’ she scolded, and began to polish the amber on a special buffing wheel, keeping a firm hold to prevent the piece from flipping from her hand. Work was the only thing keeping her sane right now. ‘Who cares where he is, or who he’s sleeping with?’
‘Were you speaking to me?’
The voice startled her so much that Abbie jerked and dropped the piece of amber, watching in dismay as it fell from her hands. Stepping quickly forward, Drew caught it before it rolled off the bench and on to the floor. She looked up at his grinning face, all too aware of the vulnerability in her own. ‘Drew, I thought you were in Scotland.’
Coming to perch on the stool beside her, he set the amber safely to one side. ‘But you knew I was coming back, and here I am, duty done.’
‘What duty would that be?’ she asked, not quite able to keep the caustic note out of her voice.
He pulled a wry face. ‘Attending my wife’s wedding.’
‘What?’
‘Didn’t I mention that was the reason I was going back? I certainly meant to, although maybe I didn’t get the chance as we were both so busy at the time, you with all the orders resulting from the official opening of Precious Dreams, and me working on fitting out the shop next door. But yes, she’s now married to someone else, thank goodness. Happily, I hope. And all the legalities over the property split are signed and dealt with, so I shan’t ever have to go back. I can now focus entirely upon my new life, and my new friends.’ His eyes were twinkling rather attractively as they gazed challengingly at her.
Abbie’s heart was racing, along with the thoughts rattling through her brain. What did all this mean? What was he trying to tell her? ‘Do you have many new friends here?’ she asked, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth.
‘I’m sure I will have in time. Right now I’m only really interested in one.’ His grey eyes darkened as he edged closer, his breath warm against her cheek as he whispered sadly to her. ‘Unfortunately I feel I may have ruined my chances with her.’
‘How so?’
‘I clumsily made a suggestion at absolutely the wrong moment, thinking I’d already won her round when I hadn’t at all. What an idiot I was.’
‘And what was her reaction to this clumsy suggestion?’
‘She blew me out, quite rightly. So, advise me: what should I do now? Apologise, or simply tell the truth that I adore her, love her to bits and would be content with a partnership of any sort, business or personal, whatever would make her most happy? So long as it’s a life-long commitment. So what do you recommend?’
Abbie could scarcely breathe, let alone answer the question, however artfully worded. ‘I’m not sure she would wish to hear any more apologies.’
‘OK. So were I to kiss her, do you reckon she’d slap me over the head?’
‘Maybe you should try it and see,’ she murmured, her eyes riveted upon his beautifully sculpted mouth, and as his arms came about her and his lips closed over hers, her heart was singing. How long she remained there Abbie couldn’t afterwards rightly say; she made no protest at all as his kisses deepened. But then she was in no hurry to release herself ‒ she wanted to stay there forever. Maybe she would.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Dear Friends,
Thank you for all your kind messages telling me how much you enjoy my books. Your comments and your reviews are very important to me. I listen and take note. Many of you have been with me since my career first took off back in the early nineties with my sagas, and I do appreciate your loyalty.
The idea for The Amber Keeper came when my husband and I took a Baltic cruise (yes, we’ve reached that age and absolutely love cruising) and visited St Petersburg. It’s an amazing city, beautiful and cosmopolitan. We saw Catherine’s Palace and the amber room, sailed along the River Neva, and visited the Fortress of Saints Peter and Paul where prisoners were held during the revolution and which features in my book. I just had to find out more. I began by reading lots of books about the Russian Tsar and his family. The Three Emperors by Miranda Carter and From Splendor to Revolution by Julia P. Gelardi were my favourites. Then quite by chance, I found Six Years at the Russian Court by Margaret Eager, about a governess who went out to Russia at the turn of the century and my creative mind kicked into action. So although this is a work of fiction, I’ve set it against a true historical background, a time of great change in the Russian Empire.
My sincere thanks to my editors Emilie Marneur and Victoria Pepe, and all the team at Amazon. Also special thanks to my agent Amanda Preston of the LBA Agency for her support and her faith in me.
Much love to you all,
Freda
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © 2014 Roger Moore
Born in Lancashire, Freda Lightfoot has been a teacher and a bookseller, and in a mad moment even tried her hand at the ‘good life.’
Inspired by this tough life on the fells, memories of her Lancashire childhood, and her passion for history, she has published forty family sagas and historical novels including Daisy’s Secret and Watch for the Talleyman.
Freda has lived in the Lake District, in Cornwall, but now spends her winters in Spain and the rainy summers in the UK.
For more information about Freda, visit her website: www.fredalightfoot.co.uk.
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