The Midwife of St. Petersburg

by Linda Lee Chaikin

  He leaned toward her. “What?” he enunciated wryly.

  “Well, I do agree you’re wasted in that bleak Okhrana. It’s nothing like the intrigue and adventure you were involved in years ago. Durnov, for example. A near gangster, and hideously ill mannered.” She shook her head with regret. “You deserve better. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors that Nicholas will personally lead the army at the front. What if I told you it was true? Would that interest you?”

  He straightened, tilting his head.

  Her eyes twinkled. “I thought so. It’s possible a transfer to the czar’s personal guard can be arranged soon. Viktor won’t like it, of course. Neither will Tatiana—then again,” and her voice was suggestive, “the poor girl is so taken up with her religious experience with the starets and his followers that she may be fully occupied.”

  He passed over the criticism of Tatiana, his thoughts upon the Grand Duke Nikolas Nikolaevich, commander in chief of the Russian forces.

  “The grand duke is popular with the officers. Will Czar Nicholas actually remove him?” he asked.

  “I have it on good authority that he’s already made up his mind. The czarina and Rasputin had much to do with it.”

  Alex recalled General Viktor’s words about Rasputin’s placing under his pillow the names of individuals the czarina was considering for positions of authority, and then informing her the next day whether or not God approved.

  “The starets is thickly involved in decisions affecting the Romanov family,” the countess went on. “The czarina trusts him explicitly. As for Grand Duke Nikolas Nikolaevich, she worries he’ll eclipse her husband’s popularity with the officers. Czar Nicholas is jealous of his six-foot-six relative.”

  Konni brought in a silver tray with a small decanter of sherry, and Countess Olga handed Alex a cut-crystal glass.

  He walked over to the bay window where the snow twirled tirelessly. He could see the wide boulevard that led to Alexander Palace, the abode of the Romanov family. The lights from other stately houses glittered in the snowy twilight.

  “Alex, you’re frowning. Is there something other than your promotion to the secret police that troubles you?”

  “I was thinking of Gennady.”

  “Gennady?” she said, surprised.

  “I didn’t wish to ruin your evening, but you’ll hear about it soon enough if General Viktor arrives.” Alex told her of the assassination of Count Kalinsky and the trouble Gennady was in for failing to lead the guard that was to have escorted him. “He could face a firing squad,” he concluded, staring moodily out the window.

  “That’s absolutely dreadful. Poor Gennady! I’ll talk to Viktor. Something must be done. I’ll go to the czarina if necessary.”

  He had thought she would feel strongly about this, as the twins were her blood kin. Although she showed frustration over Ivan’s sudden drinking habit and perceived him to be failing to uphold the Sokolov name, she was very fond of both him and Gennady. In fact, she would have preferred General Viktor’s daughter to marry Gennady rather than Alex. At the time, Alex had been irritated about it, for he’d thought Tatiana not merely beautiful, but intelligent. Matters had changed. The more leisure time he had to talk with her, the more disappointed he became over her inability to see beyond balls, dinner parties, beautiful clothes, and her likeminded friends. At the heart of their controversy was Rasputin. Tatiana grew more devoted to him with every passing day. At first this immature behavior had made him feel responsible for her, but his patience was wearing thin regarding her increasing devotion to the Siberian starets.

  His disenchantment with Tatiana was not helping him keep Karena Peshkova off his mind. Had Karena and Madame Peshkova gone to Professor Menkin’s apartment? He did not think they had much money. As he recalled the manor house at Kiev, it was pleasantly comfortable, but there’d not been evidence of wealth—just hard work and productivity in growing wheat. A rather pleasant existence, actually. He’d never thought much of balls and entertainments, though after the food at the military barracks, he could get enthused over three kinds of roasts and a dozen different cakes.

  Alex tried the sherry. He frowned, afraid he was poor company for the countess, staring out the window and brooding as he was. He looked across the large room at her. She had placed a cigarette in a long gilded holder. Maybe she could help in his inquiries. Her years as a spy meant she understood the importance of information and made a point of collecting it. He walked to the table and picked up a matchbox.

  “What do you know about Dr. Dmitri Zinnovy?” he asked. “I recall his visits to some of your dinner parties when I was growing up.”

  “Dmitri? He’s a curious subject to bring up just now. As a matter of fact, he’s been a friend for years, as has Katya.”

  He tried to read her response. “Odd, I don’t recall Countess Katya ever keeping company with him at those dinner parties.”

  “No, she didn’t. Poor dear. Unfortunately, she’s been ill much of her life. She’s completely bedridden now. Dmitri will be here at the ball tonight, by the way.” She searched his eyes. “Why do you ask about him?”

  He struck the match and held it to her cigarette. “He came to the rescue of Karena Peshkova the night Grinevich was killed by the Bolsheviks.”

  “Oh? Did he?”

  “It seems an extreme risk for a doctor with such an elevated association with the czar. He has much to lose. And I can’t see him doing it for a stranger, can you?”

  He waited. She walked leisurely to one of the red wingback chairs near the fire and sat down. Alex toyed with the matchbox.

  She looked into the pine embers for a long time before speaking.

  “I’m not surprised he’d have concern for Karena Peshkova. Actually, I’ve thought he would have shown more through the years.”

  “Then, she is his daughter,” he said unexpectedly.

  She did not show surprise. “Yes. Dmitri was in love with Yeva when she was a medical student. He’d been under a false impression that Katya was on the verge of death. It was his colleague who diagnosed her with cancer. Fortunately for the countess, the diagnosis was false, and it ended Dmitri’s plans. He refused to leave his wife to marry Yeva and asked her to be his mistress, but she refused. Then he found out through Yeva’s close friend and roommate, Fayina Lenski, that she was to have his child. When they could not come to an agreement about the child, Yeva ran away to the poorer district of St. Petersburg. But he found her again through Fayina.”

  Countess Olga paused in her memory. Alex remained silent.

  “He arranged her marriage to Josef Peshkov through friendly associates who knew Josef’s wife had died and that he was left with a two-year-old boy, Sergei. As far as I know, Dmitri and Madame Peshkova have never spoken again, and Yeva’s marriage with Josef was a normal one, and evidently a happy one until this affair over the Bolshevik meeting caused his arrest.”

  She looked up at him, her face reflecting gravity.

  “Your explanation supplements my findings. I’d no choice but to delve into Madame Peshkova’s life at the medical school. Dr. Zinnovy’s record at the Okhrana made mention of a Miss Menkin, a second-year medical student at the time. You’ve put the flesh on the scant details for me.”

  “Alex, there’s no need to bring any of this into the open, is there? It’s been such a long time. Katya is seriously ill. This time the diagnosis is undeniable. She has a weak heart. She doesn’t know a thing about Dmitri and Yeva.”

  Alex had no intention of exposing Dr. Zinnovy and disturbing his family. He was resolved, however, to speak with Dr. Zinnovy about Karena and her future.

  “At least Madame Peshkova has Karena. A beautiful girl, I’m told, and quite intelligent,” the countess said.

  “She is, indeed.”

  She looked at him searchingly. “You’ve met Karena then? Oh, but of course you have, last summer with the Roskovs.”

  There was a pause. “Were you impressed with Karena Peshkova?” she asked.

&
nbsp; Alex met her gaze. His mouth tipped ruefully.

  “Ah,” she said softly. “I see.”

  The silence settled into the room as softly as the snow fell outside the window. Alex sipped his sherry.

  Countess Olga sighed. “Perhaps, then, it’s even more important that you transfer to Nicholas’s guard unit, far from St. Petersburg.”

  His gaze swerved to hers. He hardened his jaw. He started to speak, but her delicate, silvery brow shot up.

  “Not because of Karena, dear—because of Viktor and Zofia. Viktor will be displeased, to say the least, if you don’t marry Tatiana. I might as well get straight to the point. Tatiana is one of the reasons I wished to speak with you tonight before the guests arrive.”

  What was coming now? Rasputin and Tatiana! Was this why his stepmother had asked him here?

  Alex walked to the window as the snow whirled and danced.

  “If this has anything to do with her deception, Mother, I’d rather not discuss Rasputin.”

  “It hasn’t a thing to do with that scoundrel. However, Viktor sent word a short time ago that he’s coming over early before the ball to speak with you about him. Now, don’t look at me like that, dear. I’d nothing whatsoever to do with his coming to see you. I do know he’s exceedingly troubled over Rasputin and Tatiana, as he should be. Very understandable, don’t you think? Even so, I shall let Viktor discuss all that with you.”

  He finished his sherry and deliberately remained mute. She came up and stood beside him at the window. “It’s about the duel, Alex.”

  He set the glass down with a decisive snap. “I was hoping you hadn’t heard.”

  “In St. Petersburg?” she scoffed. “In fact, I received a letter about Captain Yevgenyev while I was in the Crimea. It’s the reason I returned early.”

  He regarded her curiously. “Who would write you about it?”

  “Zofia.”

  Madame Zofia. She was no doubt worried over Tatiana’s reputation.

  “She’s naturally concerned for your safety, but she’s also worried over how the scandal will affect Tatiana. Alex, don’t look so cynical. Of course, a woman like Zofia will be worried about such things. In fact, she can’t sleep nights and is seeking sleeping medicines from Dmitri.”

  “I didn’t know I was so loved.”

  “Don’t be sarcastic, dear. Of course she cares about you, but a duel will be talked about for years. Anyway, I’ve been most upset about you. A duel over Tatiana! How could it have come to this?”

  “Didn’t Madame Zofia explain?”

  “She gave me her rendition, naturally.”

  “Captain Yevgenyev is besotted with Tatiana. He was drunk and acted stupidly. He forced the insult until I accepted. There’s little a man can do about it when his honor is trampled on before witnesses. It was set for August but delayed by his father on account of his own illness. Yevgenyev and I will eventually face one another. I’m sorry you heard about it.”

  “Something must be done. I blame Tatiana for this. She behaves quite foolishly when it comes to flirting with the officers. He should not have been invited to your holiday in Kazan. I can’t understand Zofia’s mind-set in allowing her daughter to act so unwisely.”

  “Tatiana does as she wishes. Madame Zofia hasn’t the will to confront her daughter.”

  “So I feared,” she said. “It’s shameful.”

  “I’m not expecting more from her than I bargained for, Mother. Yes, bargained. It sounds as tawdry as it is.” He tried to keep the scorn from his voice, but it seeped through. “We all know why this marriage was arranged. And Tatiana and I both agreed for purposes of our own. It’s rather hypocritical of me now to expect sacrificial behavior on her part when love isn’t motivating either of us.”

  A polite clearing of Konni’s throat interrupted. His stepmother, now looking pale and tense, turned toward the door. “Yes, Konni?”

  “General Viktor Roskov, Countess.”

  “Very well, send him in.”

  Countess Olga turned to Alex. He reached over and kissed her forehead. “Stop worrying,” he said gently.

  “You ask the impossible. I won’t simply accept the inevitable, dear. You’re the only son I have, and I’m not likely to shrug off a duel that must leave one of you seriously injured or dead.” She walked to meet General Viktor, her hand held out to him, the diamonds flashing.

  Alex was now in a riled mood. If he didn’t expect more from his relationship with Tatiana than he’d just claimed, then he’d no right to be disappointed with her over Rasputin and Yevgenyev. Yet, despite the words he’d just spoken to the contrary, he was angry, perhaps even more so with himself.

  Images of Karena flashed before him. Her desire to enter medical school showed valor. She had a noble purpose to pursue. He’d admired her at the manor when, despite the possibility of arrest, she’d been able to set aside her personal fears and rush off to deliver a peasant girl’s baby.

  He’d also been impressed with her desire to be involved with Professor Menkin’s book that claimed Jesus was the Messiah. He pictured her at that small desk with open Bible and commentaries, painstakingly taking notes for her uncle. All of this had helped to define her in his mind, while Tatiana seemed a small-minded woman; beautiful, yes, but empty and lacking discernment. Tatiana earned his sympathy; Karena stirred him. How can I speak of a duel to the death for soldierly honor and yet go through with this marriage?

  Inside the drawing room, Alex stood by the fireplace while General Roskov breathed out his exasperation. An Okhrana dossier on Rasputin sat on a table, and the general strode from the divan to the window and back again, hands interlocked behind his back.

  The countess had left them alone to talk privately, and the general was speaking bluntly.

  “I’m worried sick over Tatiana. I tell you, Alex, something must be done about Rasputin.”

  “I’ll try to talk to her, sir. Where is she?”

  “She’s still at the residence with her Peshkov cousins. She expects you to come for her in the coach to attend the ball tonight.”

  Alex’s interest sparked. “Her cousins, sir?”

  “Yes, Natalia and Sergei. You’ve met Sergei under dire circumstances at Kiev.” He frowned unhappily. “Poor Josef. I’m doing all I can to influence the czar to release him.” He smacked a fist into his other palm. “I know he’s not a revolutionary. Lenski’s behind this entire debacle. If I could get my hands on that rebel, I’d hang him myself.”

  For a moment, when the general had mentioned Tatiana’s cousins, Alex’s thoughts rushed to include Karena. Did the general know Karena was Dr. Zinnovy’s daughter? Evidently not. Nor had he mentioned Madame Peshkova’s having arrived at the Roskov residence. He probably didn’t know they were in Petrograd. Then he’d been right: they must have gone straight to Professor Menkin’s.

  “Then Madame Yeva Peshkova remains in Kiev, I suppose—she and her eldest daughter.”

  “Yes, they’re due in a few weeks. It’s terribly hard for Yeva to leave her home and land like this.” Roskov gave a shake of his reddish gray head, tweaking his mustache. “That’s another ugly problem in the family. I’ve appealed to the czar. So has the countess.”

  Alex was the one who’d first appealed to his mother to intervene on the confiscation of the wheat lands. There was no answer as yet, but the czar moved painfully slow. Autocracy was a clumsy bear. Alex heard from the Okhrana that Rasputin was receiving an audience of petitioners in the parlor of his apartment, agreeing to bring certain appeals to the czar and czarina. In exchange for his efforts, the starets accepted cases of famous wines from certain wealthy petitioners. By now his cellar should be well stocked.

  “Back to business,” the general said, handing Alex the dossier.

  The Okhrana, the general told him, was now spying on Rasputin at the request of the minister of the interior and the leader of the Duma. A large dossier on Rasputin’s sins would be placed on the czar’s desk soon, with the plea to send him back to Siberi
a.

  “Perhaps you alone can convince Tatiana that Rasputin’s powers are a sham,” the general was saying. He pointed to the folder in Alex’s hands. “Read this, and then talk some sense into your fiancée.”

  Alex clamped his jaw. “Your fiancée.” He’d not yet given Tatiana an engagement ring, but the general was squeezing him into a box he couldn’t get out of without serious consequences.

  “Show Tatiana what we’ve learned about Rasputin,” the general concluded, “then attend the meeting with her tonight. It will be held at Vyrubova’s place. She intends to leave the ball early. Your report, added to the dossier, will slam the lid on Rasputin’s coffin.”

  Alex had his doubts that anything would cause the czar to send Rasputin away. Every criticism heightened the czarina’s hysteria. She believed the safety of her family and Russia depended on him.

  “General, I’ve spoken to Tatiana before on the subject, and she becomes incensed. I’ll do my best, sir. Maybe the proof in the dossier will at least plant some doubt. Once she begins to question him, logic should prevail. I’ve heard dreadful rumors about the czar and czarina attending Rasputin’s séances, as well as meetings here at Tsarskoe Selo—meetings that border on fanaticism and immorality. Unfortunately, immorality plays a part in Rasputin’s teaching. According to him, one must sin in the flesh to be free of its hold over the soul.”

  “Then the czar must be given proof of these matters, Alex. He must come to see that this scoundrel will bring us to ruin.”

  Alex restrained the hot words that stirred in his chest. General Viktor ceased his restless marching and came over to Alex, slapping a firm hand on his shoulder. His eyes reflected a fatherly affection.

  “I could have confidence in no one more than you, Alex.”

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Lifting the Mask

  Alex left the countess’s mansion with the Okhrana dossier under his arm and climbed inside the family coach.