Requiem in the Snow

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Requiem in the Snow Page 3

by Catrin Collier


  ‘There’s a difference between drift and deep mines.’

  ‘I talked to Mr Edwards about that on the journey here. Excuse me.’ Richard wrapped a towel around his waist. He opened the door to the steam room. The atmosphere was close, heavy. He could hardly breathe.

  ‘Lie on one of the lower benches, it’s hottest close to the ceiling, and don’t push it the first time,’ Glyn advised. ‘I’ll ask Praskovia to put some of the felt hats the Russians wear to stop their heads from overheating in here. Leave the moment you feel light-headed, go back into the wash room, and tip a cold jug of water over yourself.’

  ‘That’s what Mr Thomas is doing now.’

  ‘He’s used to the banya.’

  Richard lay face down on the wooden slats. He heard the door open and close. The wood he was lying on creaked when Huw Thomas placed his foot on it to climb on to a higher bench.

  ‘Are we on schedule with the building work, Huw?’ Glyn asked.

  Richard tried to listen to Huw’s reply but his eyelids grew heavy. Within minutes he was asleep, lost in a dream of collieries that bore the name Parry Brothers.

  Glyn Edwards’ house, Hughesovka

  September 1870

  ‘That was excellent, Praskovia. Please thank your mother for us.’ Sarah shook her head when Praskovia approached with the wine decanter. ‘I couldn’t eat or drink another thing.’

  ‘The soup and meat tasted like soup and meat, which is more than can be said for what we were served on the journey,’ Peter complimented.

  ‘Goulash and kebabs are a speciality of Yelena’s. Bring the brandy please, Praskovia, then clear the table. I’m sorry, Glyn,’ Huw apologised. ‘Living on my own, I’ve grown accustomed to giving orders. Praskovia, I hereby order you to ignore me in future.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ She looked expectantly at Glyn.

  ‘We need to talk about domestic arrangements, Praskovia. Now there are so many of us you’ll need extra help.’ Glyn took the brandy from her. ‘We’ll retire to the drawing room. You can talk to me there when you’ve finished clearing up.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’ Praskovia bobbed a curtsey as first Sarah and Anna left, then Richard and the men.’

  ‘Brandy, Richard, Alf?’ Glyn asked.

  ‘I’ve never drunk it, sir. If you don’t mind I’ll have an early night. I’ve been tired since I left the bath house,’ Richard apologised.

  ‘Comes of falling asleep in there. You have to be careful. A steam room can drain your strength if you’re not used to high temperatures,’ Peter warned.

  ‘Yes, sir. Goodnight.’

  ‘I’ll say goodnight too, sir.’ Alf regarded the Edwards’ brothers as his betters and wasn’t comfortable in their company. He was looking forward to the arrival of the rest of the party and hoped to move in with the colliers.

  Glyn, Peter, and Huw retreated to the drawing room. Glyn poured the brandies and handed them out.

  Huw closed the door. ‘Why don’t we visit Koshka? You can renew your acquaintance, Glyn, and introduce Peter to his Russian patients.’

  ‘Tonight!’ Peter protested. ‘We’ve only just arrived.’

  Huw saw Glyn eyeing him. ‘It’s not what you think.’

  ‘How do you know what I’m thinking, Huw?’

  ‘Koshka’s organised a salon like Moscow. It’s a good place to meet people, converse in English, have a drink or two.’

  ‘Pick up a girl?’

  ‘A couple of them are very pretty,’ Huw said defensively.

  ‘On that note, gentlemen, please excuse me.’ Peter finished his brandy. ‘I have a wife waiting. If we’re going to begin organising the hospital tomorrow we need a good night’s rest.’

  ‘Sleep well.’ Glyn sat in a leather chair next to the hearth.

  ‘Enjoy the rest of your evening, gentlemen.’ Peter left.

  Huw looked at Glyn. ‘And then there were two.’

  ‘Do you think Koshka will remember me?’

  ‘Remember you! She hasn’t stopped asking about you since she arrived. All I get every visit is “where’s my Mr Glyn?”.’

  ‘How far is the hotel?’

  ‘Ten-minute walk.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Five if we walk quickly.’

  Glyn hesitated, but only for a few seconds. ‘Lead the way.’

  Beletsky House

  September 1870

  Catherine Ignatova swept into the drawing room of the Beletsky mansion without waiting for the footman to announce her.

  ‘Mother-in-law.’ Nicholas rose. ‘We weren’t expecting you.’

  ‘Where’s Olga?’

  ‘She went to bed early. Hardly surprising …’

  ‘When she’s pregnant again less than a year after giving birth to her twelfth child.’

  Stung by the condemnation in Catherine’s voice, Nicholas retorted, ‘Childbirth is a natural function.’

  ‘So is vomiting. People who care about their well-being try not to do it to excess. Is Olga very upset?’

  ‘Why should she be upset?’

  ‘If she witnessed your ridiculous behaviour towards Alexei …’

  ‘I never behave in a ridiculous fashion.’

  ‘This stupid attitude you’ve adopted towards your eldest son …’

  ‘Don’t tell me. That uncouth Cossack girl sent a message to the Dower House from your father’s old house.’

  ‘It’s no longer my father’s old house, Nicholas. It’s Mr Edwards’ house.’

  ‘You’ve sold, not rented it to him?’

  ‘That’s my affair. If “uncouth Cossack” is a reference to Praskovia, she didn’t send a message. I heard what happened from Alexei.’

  ‘How could you? Alexei’s upstairs. I locked him in his bedroom myself.’

  Catherine stared at him.

  Nicholas ran from the room across the hall. He charged up the staircase. Catherine heard a rattle of keys a door being unlocked a door and waited until Nicholas returned, red-faced and breathless.

  ‘Where is he? Tell me, or so help me …’

  ‘You’ll what, Nicholas?’ Gathering her long skirts she sat calmly on the sofa.

  ‘I’ll horsewhip the boy.’

  ‘You’ll do no such thing.’

  ‘Where have you hidden him?’

  ‘I’d hardly tell you, given your present mood.’

  ‘Alexei’s no son of mine. Mixing with the dregs of humanity. Chasing after that … that …’

  ‘If he’s chasing Praskovia, he’s no different from his father. The entire countryside knows Yelena’s idiot son is yours.’

  ‘You admit Alexei is sleeping with …’

  ‘I admit nothing for Alexei. He has a tongue in his head. You want to talk to the boy, do so, in my house in front of my lawyer with my manservants at hand. This ridiculous feud you have with him has to stop, Nicholas. He’s a good boy and intelligent.’

  ‘You always take his side.’

  ‘He came to me tonight to ask me to lend him money so he could go to St Petersburg.’

  ‘To do what?’ Nicholas sneered.

  ‘You know what the boy wants to do. He’s told you often enough. In my opinion my money will be safer with Alexei than it is in the bank. Unlike you, he has an over-developed sense of honour.’

  ‘You want him to study engineering so he can sink to the level of a filthy miner?’

  ‘I want him to follow his dream.’

  ‘I’m protecting the boy from himself. He could apply for a position at court.’

  ‘As what?’

  ‘If you used your influence he could be posted a gentleman of the bedchamber.’

  ‘Wasting his days in useless chit-chat about clothes and etiquette? How little you know him, Nicholas.’

  ‘He would be mixing with his own kind.’

  ‘My offer stands. You may visit my house tomorrow morning and talk to the boy. However, the first threat against him, or sign that you’re about to lose your temper, I’ll order my servants to s
how you the door and send the boy to a foreign university.’

  ‘What will he live on?’

  ‘The annuity I’ll pay him. He’s proved himself capable by working for Huw Thomas this past year. If you can bring yourself to leave him alone I’ll employ Alexei to develop my estate and land in partnership with Mr Hughes’s New Russia Company.’

  ‘You’d sell out your house and grounds to industry?’

  ‘It’s the future, Nicholas. Even an old woman like me can see that. Alexei is eighteen. Not quite a man, yet he has a man’s sense. I recall what you were like at that age. Alexei is more mature.’

  ‘But your house is close to mine.’

  ‘Close to the one Olga inherited from her father on his death, yes.’ Catherine rose. ‘Will I see you tomorrow morning in the Dower House?’

  ‘You’ll allow me to talk to the boy?’

  ‘In the presence of my lawyer, manservants, and me,’ she reiterated.

  ‘You’re determined to negate my influence?’

  ‘I’d have thought the events of this evening proved Alexei is determined to run as far and fast as he can from your influence.’

  ‘The boy …’

  ‘The boy knows his own mind. I’ll do all I can to allow him to develop his interests.’

  ‘In other words you want to drag him down to the level of this Welshman, John Hughes.’

  ‘You were happy to take the money John offered to lease some of your land.’

  ‘Not the land in my back yard. I’m an aristocrat …’

  ‘You, Nicholas, are the past. Alexei is the future. If you’re too stupid to see that, stay away from him and my house. You have other sons you can mould to your image. They may prove more tractable than Alexei. But, if they’ve any brains that haven’t been knocked out of them by that nonsensical military education you insisted on subjecting them to, they may prove just as obdurate as their brother.’

  ‘Fine! Employ Alexei to manage your estate and affairs. I hope you lose every kopek.’ Nicholas followed his mother-in-law into the hall, where the footman was waiting with her cloak.

  ‘Thank you for your kind wishes, Nicholas.’

  ‘Sarcastic woman! You’ve never listened to reason …’

  ‘Alexei has a dream which is more than you’ve allowed my daughter. If you don’t call tomorrow I’ll assume you have no interest in the boy.’

  ‘Alexei is my son.’

  ‘Then for your sake as well as my daughter’s behave like his father.’ Catherine walked to the door. The footman ran to open it before she reached it. She sailed through without breaking step.

  Chapter Three

  Glyn Edwards’ house, Hughesovka

  September 1870

  The temperature in the kitchen was on a par with that of the steam room. Yelena was at the stone sink, washing dishes; Pyotr was hunched on a stool, cleaning Mr Edwards’ boots.

  Praskovia walked in and sat at the table. ‘I can’t find Mr Edwards or Mr Thomas.’

  ‘I haven’t seen them since they went in to the drawing room with the doctor when I was clearing the table.’ Her mother rubbed at a stubborn spot on a bowl with the dishcloth.

  ‘The doctor’s in the garden,’ Pyotr added helpfully in his slow drawl.

  ‘They’re not with him, I looked.’ Praskovia turned the tap on the samovar and filled a glass with tea. ‘Mr Edwards said he would discuss hiring extra people with me.’

  ‘He probably forgot,’ her mother said.

  ‘In a few minutes?’

  ‘It’s not urgent. Your talk can wait until morning.’ Yelena lifted the bowl from the water and set it on the wooden draining board. ‘When you speak to the master, don’t forget we need kitchen and laundry maids as well as indoor maids. And, if he intends to buy horses, a carriage, and sleigh, another man to help Pyotr look after them. He’ll need a gardener too if he wants it planted.’

  ‘I have the list we worked on. Those boots are shining like glass, Pyotr. Leave them outside the master’s door then go to bed. You have to get up early to see to the stoves. Sleep with one ear open. Mr Thomas has a key but the master doesn’t. If they’re out and return separately you may have to let the master in.’

  ‘Yes, Miss Housekeeper Praskovia.’ Pyotr clambered awkwardly to his feet.

  ‘God bless and keep you, son.’ Yelena kissed his cheek.

  ‘Do you want me to pour you a glass of tea?’ Praskovia asked Yelena.

  ‘Yes, please.’ Yelena sat at the table and took four lumps of sugar from the bowl. ‘The master’s very good-looking.’

  ‘He is.’

  ‘He’s married?’ Yelena phrased the comment as a question.

  ‘You know he is,’ Praskovia confirmed irritably.

  ‘Strange he hasn’t brought the mistress with him.’

  ‘Mr Hughes hasn’t brought his wife here either. From what Mr Mahoney said when I showed him to his room, most of the men with the company have left their wives at home.’

  ‘Be careful, my girl. I saw the way he looked at you when he arrived.’

  ‘If he looked at me at all, it was a friendly look.’

  ‘You think so?’

  ‘Yes, I think so,’ Praskovia countered.

  ‘I know what masters are like, and for all the Tsar – God bless and keep him –’ Yelena crossed herself, ‘abolishing serfdom, the ones who pay our wages still think they can treat us like slaves. This master’s rich, good-looking. His bed is empty. He’ll be looking to fill it. After the shameless way you behaved with Ivan Kalmykov before he was killed, who better than to fill it than a housekeeper who’s missing a man between her thighs. Be warned, my girl, a married man isn’t the answer to your loneliness.’

  ‘You’ve no idea how much I miss Ivan.’

  ‘I lost your father …’

  ‘When he was an old man. Ivan was nineteen. We hadn’t begun our lives together.’

  ‘You’re mourning Ivan. That’s your right. But when I saw the way the master looked at you and the way you looked him full in the eye back …’ Yelena saw the tears on Praskovia’s cheeks but was driven by the need to prevent her daughter from making the same mistake she had. ‘Any girl, let alone one mourning the loss of a lover, would be attracted to him. But if you allow him to make love to you it won’t end well. We’re comfortable here. Our rooms are warm, we have good food, all three of us are earning. Once people arrive with Mr Hughes I’ll be able to add the rent from our house to our savings. Start something with the master and when the mistress appears we’ll be thrown out without a roof to crawl under or a kopek …’

  ‘The way the count threw you out of the Beletsky mansion when he put Pyotr in your belly. No wonder Father took to drink.’

  ‘I did what I thought best at the time. Not for me but for all of us.’

  ‘Spare me the plea for understanding, Mama. You did what you wanted to.’

  ‘You think I wanted to sleep with the count? I hated him. I still hate him. But he caught your father poaching. You know how often deer from the count’s land ended up on Alexandrovka’s tables. A charge like that with the count as magistrate, your father would have been sent to Siberia – and then how would have lived?’

  ‘I’ve heard it all before, Mama.’

  ‘I don’t want to have to hear it again with you – not me – as the suffering one. Think of Pyotr. He’s strong but he has the mind of a child. He needs looking after. This house is good, Praskovia, good for all of us. We can look to a secure future. I beg you, don’t spoil it by throwing yourself at the master. If you do it will end in tears.’

  ‘Nothing’s happened between me and the master.’

  ‘Yet, because you haven’t any time together. Remember, when a man’s peace and comfort are threatened he’ll chose his wife over his mistress every time. It’s not as though you’re undamaged goods. You were brazen with Ivan. Everyone in Alexandrovka knew what you two were up to. Then there’s all this talk about you and Alexei when there’s nothing going on. What’s
that about?’

  ‘That’s my business and Alexei’s,’ Praskovia snapped.

  ‘As my grandmother used to say, there’s only thing a fallen woman can do, and that’s keep falling.’

  ‘Not you, Mama.’ Praskovia left the table. ‘With Alexei’s help and recommendation for this job I stopped you falling any lower.’

  ‘Praskovia …’ Yelena was talking to the door.

  There was no night she regretted more than the one she’d privately christened ‘her night of shame’ when the count had entered the nursery. She’d been employed as wet nurse to one of his daughters. Afraid of waking the children and subjecting them to sights they shouldn’t see, especially Alexei who’d been five at the time, she’d been too afraid to make a sound.

  The count had laughed at her pathetic efforts to fight him off. It had been the first rape of many. He’d even waylaid her on her journeys to see her children in Alexandrovka. The count’s threat to prosecute Pavlo for poaching and tell her husband she’d been willing had prevented her for confiding in her husband. She’d been too ashamed to tell anyone else what the count had done and was doing to her.

  Nicholas Beletsky hadn’t been able to resist boasting about his conquest. As a result the man she’d loved most – her Pavlo – had dulled his pain at her shame in vodka. She hoped Praskovia was right and this master was a good man but the master, like the count, had a wife …

  She crossed herself, fell to her knees, reached for her prayer rope, and began telling off the knots.

  ‘Please, blessed holy mother of God, let Praskovia see sense and please don’t let us be forced from this house or our jobs. Please, blessed holy mother …’

  Glyn Edwards’ house, Hughesovka

  September 1870

  Peter found Sarah updating her journal in bed.

  ‘Is the mattress comfortable?’

  ‘Very.’ She tucked her pencil inside the book and closed it before patting the spot next to her. ‘See for yourself.’

  ‘I will as soon as I’ve undressed. I walked around the garden. It’s difficult to see much in the dark, but the country is so flat our first priority has to be to check the water table relative to the cesspits that have already been dug.’

  ‘You used the outside thunder box?’

 

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