Zofia masked her pain. “Stanisław was gentle.”
“Unlike me?”
“They say your wife is older.”
“What?”
“They say—”
“You’re not to speak of my wife, do you hear?” A pinch to Zofia’s upper arm served as an exclamation point.
“Ouch!” Zofia’s cry was at once one of hurt and surprise. He had pinched her the night before, too, she suddenly remembered, when she had left the door to the anteroom partially open. Couldn’t tolerate open doors, he had screamed, loud enough to truly scare her. What a strange duck he was! Besides women’s backsides and roaring fires, he liked to slap and pinch. Oh well, she thought, when the time comes I can give as good as I get.
Zofia managed at last to pull free and turn over onto her back. He was staring down at her, his glass-gray eyes seeming to take on color at the sight. There is more to a woman than her backside, Zofia longed to say. Instead she smiled, reached up, and pulled his face toward hers.
For a time she made him forget Josephine. For a time she was empress.
Anna was breakfasting with Barbara and Izabel when the door knocker sounded. The two girls lunged toward the front hall. Anna sighed in defeat. They knew to let one of the servants answer the door, but their youthful curiosity usually got the best of them.
Shortly, they ran back to the table and Anna took them to task, relaying to them manners and etiquette appropriate to their upbringing. The girls bowed their heads with the requisite degree of shame. They had forgotten, they said. Anna could not help but smile secretly at the scene. She was not so very far removed from their place in life, or so it seemed. And yet, years were ticking by like the movements of a clock’s minute hand.
“Don’t you wish to know who it was, Mother?” Barbara asked.
“Very well! Who?”
“A soldier!” Barbara said.
“A very handsome one!” cried Izabel.
“A soldier?” Anna’s first thought was a fearful one. Had some message come regarding Jan? Her heart raced. “What soldier?”
“He didn’t say,” Barbara said.
“Was he an officer?”
“I don’t think so,” Izabel said. “No medals or ribbons, but good looking just the same.”
“What did he want?”
“He asked for the Countess Grońska,” Barbara said.
“We told him she was out,” Izabel chimed. “Aunt Anna, where did Mother go?”
Anna smiled and gave the answer she had prepared. “Your mother went out very early this morning for a gown fitting.” Lies, even little ones with good intentions, still came with difficulty.
“She usually has the woman in to the house for that,” Izabel said, less than convinced.
Anna returned to the subject of the caller. “Just what did this soldier say?”
“He asked how old we are,” Barbara said.
“Why would he ask that?” The girls gave blank stares. “And you told the truth? No pretending to be older than you are? That’s one of your tricks, Basia.”
“We told the truth,” Barbara said.
“Yes.” Izabel sighed. “Actually, we didn’t think fast enough to add a few years.”
“There will be none of that,” Anna said, thinking all the while through this exchange how strange it was. She was immediately put on guard. What was this man about—and why would he be asking the ages of Basia and Iza? Was there some connection to Doliński? “Did he leave a card?”
“I asked if he had one,” Izabel said. “He said that he didn’t.”
Moments later, the knocker sounded again. The girls stirred in their chairs, but Anna stood, shooting them a glance that kept them rooted to their places. Anna moved into the hall and opened the door to see for herself the young Polish soldier, an infantryman. The handsome blonde man stood nervously, shifting from one foot to the other, his czapka in his hand. Anna guessed his age as twenty-seven or twenty-eight.
“Beggin’ your pardon, milady. I came a bit ago to speak to the Countess Grońska.”
“She’s still not at home,” Anna replied crisply.
Izabel and Barbara joined her at the door now, one on each side.
The soldier was blushing. “Your girls told me so.”
“This one is mine,” Anna said, her arm going around Barbara. “And one day she’ll listen to me when I tell her something.”
The soldier looked to Izabel, as if he expected Anna to say who she was. She thought that strange—and inappropriate. She resolved that he should be provided with no more information. Anna waited for his blue eyes to return to her, then said: “Is there a message for Lady Grońska?”
He put his head down and pulled from his pocket a little folded paper. Handing it to Anna, he said, “I have no card.”
Anna took the paper. After speaking to the girls, he must have gone off somewhere nearby to write something—or have someone do it for him. She doubted the man could read. It was somehow touching. Perhaps he was harmless.
The soldier’s boots came together as he stood at attention and bowed. “A good day to you ladies.” His gaze went again to Izabel and stayed a beat longer than Anna would have liked. Her sense of caution instantly flared to high heat.
“And to you,” Anna said, shooing the girls back to the dining room and closing the door. Before she herself went in, she walked to the window and watched the soldier move down the street toward St. Martin’s. She looked then at the little scrap of paper.
On it, in awkwardly written letters, was a single name: Jerzy.
Just ten minutes later, Anna had no sooner excused the girls from the table than the knocker sounded a third time. Anna sighed. The soldier certainly was insistent. She rose and went to the door.
But it was not the soldier named Jerzy she found on the other side of the door. Still, it was a soldier, an officer. Anna had to catch her breath. “Paweł!”
“Hello, Anna!”
“You’re knocking at your own residence?”
“I thought it best. I didn’t want to just walk in and scare everyone to death.”
Anna quickly cast a look one way down the street, then the other.
“I’m alone, Anna. Jan’s not with me. His orders took him elsewhere.”
Anna attempted a smile. “I thought as much.—Oh, do come in, Paweł!”
“Thank you.” Paweł stepped up to the threshold and embraced Anna, kissing her on either cheek. “It’s good to be home—even if it’s just for a few days.”
“So little time!”
“I know. Is Zofia at home?”
“No, not at the moment. Do come into the dining hall.” As she led the way, she felt her face flushing hot. Lying to Paweł about Zofia’s whereabouts was vastly different than lying to Iza. Would she be able to carry it off?
Once he sat, Anna prepared a plate for him from the dishes on the sideboard. As she did so, they chatted about small, mundane things: the weather, muddy roads, and difficulty traveling. Anna passed him a full plate and sat down. To her amazement the conversation continued without his asking about Zofia’s whereabouts.
He told how he was accompanying a messenger who was bringing documents and war maps to Emperor Napoléon. He was to return within the week, most likely with written responses from the emperor. Paweł had only just left the Royal Castle.
Anna felt the heat rising to her face again. If her suspicion about the night before was correct, Zofia was probably there at the very time Paweł was discharging his duty.
“You’re very quiet all of a sudden, Anna.—Forgive me, I’ve been rattling on, and I’m sure all you’re thinking of is your Jan.”
“How is he, Paweł?”
“Last I saw of him, he was fit as a fiddle!”
“Thank God!—You are both to be congratulated on your promotions.”
“Thank you—although knowing they meant we would be attached to different squadrons, we would rather have declined them.”
“But one doesn’t
do that sort of thing.”
“Decline a promotion?” He shook his head. “No soldier would do that.”
“And what of his orders?”
“As of two days ago, he was to move toward Gdańsk as part of an expeditionary and occupying force.”
“So there’s to be resistance? There will be fighting?”
Paweł’s face softened. He no doubt wished he had said less. “There could be. But Jan can take care of himself.”
“I liked it better when you were there with him.”
Paweł smiled, as if to say he agreed. He finished his breakfast and took a second cup of coffee. “This is such a treat! I’m so tired of tea—and very poor tea at that. This is delicious! How do you manage getting coffee?”
“Anusia Potocka’s father-in-law sent this over. He has all manner of connections. You wouldn’t believe the personages coming and going at their home!”
“Yes, I would. Stanisław Potocki is in the thick of things trying to get some commitment for Poland out of the emperor.”
“Tell me, Paweł, do you think we should be placing trust in this Frenchman?”
Paweł shrugged. “I’m quicker to do so than Jan, I can tell you that. He’s quite a doubting Tomasz. But without placing trust in him, where are we? There’s only one road for us to take, and take it we must.”
“But will it take us to our destination—a free and independent Poland?”
“Ah! That is the question of the moment.”
A small commotion arose in the kitchen, and in a few moments Zofia came flying through the door to the dining hall. She halted abruptly at the sight of Paweł. “Good God in Heaven!” she shrieked happily. “Paweł!”
Paweł stood as Zofia sailed over to him. They embraced. Anna could see Paweł’s eyes filling up. Zofia pulled up a chair next to his and began to ply him with questions.
After a while Anna excused herself, saying she was going upstairs to work on her morning correspondence. She had not yet made it to the second floor landing when she heard Zofia and Paweł moving toward their bedchamber, their tones low and loving.
She sat now at her writing desk, unable to write. Even to Jan. She just couldn’t figure Paweł and Zofia. Her cousin’s appearance could not have been more transparent. Zofia had arrived home wearing a ball gown from the night before, her hair and makeup less than presentable. And yet Paweł chose to look past the obvious, look past the imperfections—mighty as they were—in Zofia. He certainly loved her—had done so for years. Had he long ago given up the notion he—or anyone—could change her? And yet how could he reconcile himself to her behavior? To her other affairs? Did he think so little of himself? Or was his love so great—so unconditional—that he accepted her as she was? Was such a godlike love possible in this world?
It seemed that Zofia would always be both the snake and the snake-charmer.
Paweł and Zofia stayed in their bedchamber some hours before Izabel’s knocking prompted them to partake in a meal. In the excitement of Paweł’s arrival, neither Anna nor the girls thought to mention the other morning caller—the infantryman Jerzy.
The Wigilia—Christmas Eve—and Christmas celebrations were happy ones with Paweł there and Michał and Tadeusz home on holiday. The only person missing was Jan, and Anna acutely felt his absence. The boys returned to the academy on the 26th, and with Zofia and Paweł spending time together for the next few days, Anna became drawn to the Potockis’ home in Willanów, where she was always warmly welcomed. The elder Potockis nightly entertained a number of the French, it seemed, including Prince Borghese and Prince Murat, brothers-in-law to the emperor, as well as Monsieur de Tallyrand. Napoléon, occupied in war plans, spent nearly a week away from the city, visiting his forces to the east. But Anna was certain that sooner or later he, too, would show at Willanów.
And, indeed, he did. On New Year’s Day, 1807, the feast of Saint Sylwester. Anusia met Anna at the door, her face pink with excitement. “Oh, Ania! He’s come.”
“Has he?” Anna didn’t have to ask the identity of the visitant. That her friend’s family was entertaining the Emperor of France in their home was indeed exciting.
“Yes, and he’s brought some of his orchestra. We’re to have a concert!”
“How delightful!” Anna replied.
“Of course, it will be Italian music. That’s all he allows them to play. He’s brought the entire orchestra from Paris, can you imagine? A pity our music room isn’t larger—we could have dancing.”
The emperor bowed upon being reintroduced to Anna. “I do remember, Lady Stelnicka,” he said. “We met at the Royal Castle.”
Anna felt heat rising into her face. She smiled. “You’re being polite, Your Highness.”
“With eyes so green, how could I forget?”
He passed on, and Anna pondered whether she really had made an impression. The man knew how to flatter.
During the concert Anusia passed on gossip that she had only just heard. It seemed that the emperor had already marked out the Polish woman whose heart he would break. “Who is it?” Anna whispered at supper to Anusia, who sat at her right.
Anusia held a napkin to her face, as if someone might read her lips. “No one knows—no one here anyway. But it is fun to wonder, isn’t it?”
Indeed, Anna thought. Of course, her first thought had been that her own cousin Zofia had been the favored one to capture the emperor’s imagination. She didn’t doubt it—even though Paweł’s visit had recently compromised much of Zofia’s time. However, Paweł was to leave in two days—soon enough for Anna’s curiosity to be sated.
After supper, tables were set for cards. The emperor was partial to whist, and for his table he chose Anusia, Anna, and Lady Potocka, Anusia’s mother-in-law. In time, Anna found out it was his habit to play with three women, whether young or old. Anna wondered if this was because he had his fill of men in the war room and on the battlefield. As the game progressed, she suspected that he felt he was gifting the opposite sex with his playing. While the elder Lady Potocka seemed to play an indifferent game—intentionally, Anna thought—Anna and Anusia held their own, and Anusia even fell into a banter with the emperor about the stakes. Anusia dared to cleverly imply they play for an unnamed kingdom. “What kingdom?” Napoléon pressed.
Anusia seemed to sense, as did Anna, that to name Poland would invite something unpleasant from the emperor, who was known to be volatile when put on the spot. Anna came to her rescue then, saying, “Surprise us, Your Highness. Poles dearly love a surprise.”
“Do they, Lady Stelnicka? Do you know what I love?”
“What?”
“Lovely and lively ladies who play cards—and who do not try to lose to a man!”
“Not even to an emperor?” Anusia asked.
“Not even!” He turned to Anusia’s mother-in-law, maliciousness glittering in his gray eyes. “What say you, Lady Potocka?”
An uncomfortable half-smile came to Lady Potocka’s face, but her silence and sudden blush spoke volumes.
Paweł passed up a ball at the Royal Castle to attend the Brotherhood meeting at the lodge in the countryside. He noted to himself that the group there seemed a Brotherhood within the Brotherhood, for these were the Poles much concerned with avoiding any Prussian influence of the type that was exerted at the meetings held in Warsaw. The roots of the Polish Brotherhood that traced to Prussia’s lodges, as well as to the recently ousted Prussian regime in Warsaw, were reason enough to be wary of motives not truly Polish.
Paweł was not surprised to find the group diminished in numbers. A few of the elders had died or were infirm, but a great many had joined—as he had—Napoléon’s Polish legionnaires. Still, the twenty or so robed and hooded figures were animated this night nonetheless. It had just come to light that one of their members—Brother Fabian—had been a spy for the Prussian crown. Paweł remembered the man, too, from years before because he had felt an immediate aversion to him. All the talk was about a saddlebag of documents lost by Broth
er Fabian that had led to his unmasking—and what might result from the compromising of the Brotherhood’s secrecy.
When the group was assembled, the Grand Master called for quiet. “It will do us no good to become overheated over this! We must keep our wits about us. With the Prussians now out of Warsaw altogether and at the mercy of Napoléon, I don’t think we have much to worry about. Any information Brother Fabian took with him cannot be of much value.”
“What about the location of this lodge?” someone asked.
“Yes, there is that,” the Grand Master admitted. “We shall have to meet elsewhere in the future. This will be our last meeting here. But, listen, my Brothers, with Kalkreuth gone and Poles in line for power, why not meet right in Warsaw? Surely a place can be found.” The notion of not traveling so far elicited a loud round of approval.
Later, Paweł took the Grand Master aside. “What about Tadeusz Stelnicki?” he asked with an air of urgency.
“Tadeusz? He continues his education at military school. He’s seven now and doing quite well from what I hear. His brother is there, too.”
“Then the plans for him—”
The Grand Master shrugged. “The plans have not changed—or should I say they have not been formulated. Who’s to say what this French emperor has on his mind for Poland? Right now he seems to be toying with us. He may not know himself. With or without Napoléon, it may be that we will need a king on which to hang a new kingdom. Tadeusz is a fine specimen—good at his studies, good at the sword.”
“Some say Napoléon may choose one of his brothers-in-law for king.”
“God help us. He does give away kingdoms like bonbons. It is sad that circumstances put us at his mercy.”
“To return to Tadeusz, Grand Master, shouldn’t we be worried for his safety? Brother Fabian knew of the plans for him.”
The Grand Master’s head tilted slightly, as if in agreement—and as if he had thought of it for the first time. His shoulders sagged forward a bit. “That much is true, Brother Piotr, and if Kalkreuth were still commandant of Warsaw I would be concerned. But the Prussians are gone, and I expect our spy has flown, as well.”
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