Valerie's Russia (16 page)

‘Do you think there is going to be a war, Andrei?’ asked the countess, wanting another opinion, unsure what to think.

‘I don’t believe the Tsar wants war,’ Andrei said carefully, ‘but an attack on Serbia can only be interpreted as a challenge to Russia’s power and her influence in the Balkans. We cannot stand by and allow Serbia to be humiliated. If we do, we will lose rank as a great power.’

‘I think it all depends on Germany,’ said Pyotr. ‘If, as I hope, the Kaiser wants war as little as Tsar Nicholas, then the conflict can remain a small affair left to sort itself out. But if Germany goes to the aid of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, then I fear Europe will become a battlefield.’

There was silence as they all absorbed his words.

‘So we wait to hear what Kaiser Wilhelm decides,’ said the countess eventually.

‘Well, I’m off to bed,’ said Sophia, bored by the politics and wanting the next day to come as quickly as possible. She had the most extravagant and beautiful outfit to wear.

It was French and wildly expensive, but she longed to see Pyotr’s and Andrei’s expressions when she paraded in it. It was not right for a picnic but was ideal for a celebration. And Tassya was not going to be the only one to receive attention.

‘Good night,’ she said, rising to her feet and smiling at the raised faces. ‘I will see you all tomorrow.’

She bent to kiss Pyotr before he stood up, then walked through the open glass doors into her new pink salon. This was a glorious room and just one of the many changes taking place at Mavara. Soon it would be well and truly hers.

Sighing with satisfaction, Sophia Lukaev climbed the stairs to her bedroom.

N
ext day Pyotr managed to see Valerie on her own.

After a midday meal of pork and tomatoes, followed by fruit and ice-cream, he announced that he was driving out to see how the harvesting of the wheat was progressing.

‘Would any of you like to join me?’ he asked.

To his relief, the countess said she was going to have a rest before the evening’s entertainment, and neither Tassya nor Sophia showed enthusiasm for a drive in the open carriage under the blazing sun.

‘Perhaps Valerie would like to see how the wheat is gathered?’ said Andrei, guessing at Pyotr’s intention.

‘She always stays with me,’ said the countess, as Conrad arrived to help her upstairs.

‘I don’t suppose Valerie has managed to leave the house at all since being with you, countess,’ said Andrei, with a gentle smile. ‘This is supposed to be the day when we thank her for her kindness to you, as well as spoiling the birthday girl,’ he added swiftly, noticing Tassya’s frown.

‘I’m sure Valerie won’t want to drive out at this hour of the day,’ said Sophia.

‘But I should like to go,’ said Valerie. It would be her only chance to see Pyotr, and a short time away from Countess Irina would be bliss.

‘That’s settled then,’ said Pyotr.

On hearing that Andrei was going with them, Sophia relaxed, and once the three ladies had departed for their various chambers Valerie followed the men out into the hallway. She was watching Pyotr giving orders to Feodor when Andrei attracted her attention.

‘If you will excuse me, Miss Marsh,’ he said formally, bowing before her, ‘I think a short nap out on the verandah is what I desire most at present.’ As he lifted his head she saw his eyes were glinting with amusement. ‘Will you forgive me if I do not join you in your drive through the wheat fields?’

‘I understand completely, Andrei Odarka,’ she said, with a gracious inclination of her head. But her heart was singing.

Valerie didn’t know how much Pyotr had told his friend about their plans for the future, but Andrei was obviously aware of their difficulties and was giving them a longed-for opportunity to be alone together.

When Pyotr came to join them, Andrei explained that he would not be accompanying them, and Pyotr burst out laughing and clapped him on the shoulder.

‘You are a friend, indeed, Odarka, and one day you must allow me to repay this debt.’

‘Do not stay away too long,’ said Andrei. ‘Remember that this is Tassya’s birthday and I do not want it ruined by some thoughtless behaviour by her brother.’

‘We will be back in plenty of time to dress for the special occasion, I promise you that,’ said Pyotr. ‘Come, Valerie, I want you to see one of the most beautiful and satisfying sights on Mavara.’

As Feodor opened the front door for them, Valerie gasped as the hot dusty air of the courtyard engulfed her.

‘It will be better once we are moving,’ said Pyotr, taking her lightly by the arm and leading her down the steps towards the waiting carriage that had been brought round for them. ‘Feodor
gave me this for you,’ he said, handing her a neatly folded scarlet kerchief. ‘He says you are not to go out bareheaded, Valerie Marsh, and has obviously realized you do not possess a summer hat.’

‘How thoughtful of him,’ she said, surprised by the unexpected kindness. She unfolded the scarf and placed it over her head, low on the forehead, then tied it at the nape of her white neck. Some of the maids wore their kerchiefs tied beneath their chins but in that intense heat Valerie wanted nothing around her throat. ‘What about you?’ she said.

‘I wear my hat enough on duty,’ said Pyotr, ‘so now it is a pleasure to feel the air on my head. You look like a little peasant girl. That is not meant impolitely,’ he said quickly, ‘just nice and pretty and young, Varinka.’

The scarlet gave colour to her drab grey cotton and with her happiness as well as the sunshine, her cheeks were glowing.

‘I am glad my appearance pleases you. Let’s make the most of these precious moments, Pyotr. I am so looking forward to this drive with you.’

It had been such a long time since she had been free to go out of doors and see the countryside. She wished she and Pyotr could simply take off and disappear into the distance leaving the house, and its three annoying females, behind. Unfortunately those three were part of Pyotr Silakov’s life and, if she loved him, she would always have to accept their claim on him.

After helping Valerie up into the carriage, Pyotr took the reins and they moved briskly out of the courtyard through the big iron gates and on to a rough track over the fields.

As he glanced down at her sitting small and erect beside him with her scarlet headscarf, he longed to draw up the horses and take her in his arms. But he had promised Andrei they would not be late back, and there would be time for kisses in the near future.

‘We will find our love-nest, Varinka,’ he said, ‘and I will make sure you are comfortably settled there before I depart for Tsarskoe Selo.’

‘But what about your mother?’ she said. not quite believing what he said. ‘I can’t just walk out on her.’

‘Mother will be cared for, do not worry. I shall speak to Feodor and if he says more servants are needed then we will
have
more servants. I’ll not allow anyone in my family to suffer and Mother must have all the care and attention she craves. But not from you, my love.’

Pyotr’s eyes were tender as he gazed down at her.

‘You have done enough for my womenfolk – have worked harder than any servant – and now you will receive your reward. You’ll have a home of your own, servants to care for you, and a man who loves you very much even if he is not always there to tell so.’

‘That will be wonderful,’ said Valerie, turning her head and nuzzling against his lightly clad arm. ‘And I, in turn, promise never to intrude upon your marriage. But I shall be waiting for you always.’

She did not know how this could all be arranged – there was so little time before he had to return to his duties – but her trust in him was complete.

Pyotr put out a hand to hold her fiercely against him for a moment then, as they approached the harvesters, he let her go and stared grimly ahead.

Dear God, help me to keep all my women happy, he prayed.

He did not intend going into marriage in a light-hearted, fickle way. He meant to make Sophia a good husband and wanted her to be content with him and her new home. He also wanted his mother and sister to be happy in the coming years. But most of all he wanted his Little England to feel safe, and needed, and adored.

‘Here we are,’ he said, driving the horses off the track and onto the field, where the stacks of sheaves were rising as high as the peasants’ own cottages.

Valerie was surprised to see so many women at work, but Pyotr explained that the men were employed at the beet factory on the other side of the estate.

With backs bent, sharp scythes swinging in their hands, the women were bending and slashing and stacking in an easy rhythmical motion, appearing unaffected by the heat and dusty chaff-filled air.

Children of all ages were helping their mothers sometimes two or three together, staggering over the stubble with their sheaf.

As they rode slowly between the rows, Valerie saw one woman sitting with her back to a stack, feeding her newborn baby. And further on was another baby sleeping peacefully in a little tent that had been made of rags tied to three posts that protected it from the sun.

How she would love a child.

‘You are very quiet,’ said Pyotr, on the homeward journey, after he had spoken to one of the older women and agreed to them taking every third sheaf for themselves. ‘Is the heat bothering you, Varinka?’

‘No,’ she said, staring ahead with troubled eyes. ‘I was thinking of our unborn children and wondering what sort of a life they would have, as illegitimate offspring of our illicit union.’

‘Valerie, don’t use such words!’ Pyotr drew on the reins and stopped the horses before turning and reaching out for her. ‘They will be our love children, my darling!’ He held her hard against his chest. ‘I shall love them as much as any I may have with Sophia. Don’t you understand, my heart?’ Moving back a little he placed a hand beneath her chin and lifted her rosy,
scarlet-framed face to his. ‘Our children will be special as our love is special,’ he said.

Then, regardless of time, he kissed her as he had wanted to kiss her since arriving at Mavara.

Valerie melted in his arms, putting her hands behind his head and pressing her thin body against his, feeling his masculine strength with renewed joy.

With one swift action, Pyotr lifted his hand to remove her kerchief and with it went most of her pins, allowing her hair to fall in rumpled abandon onto her narrow shoulders.

‘My beauty, my lovely one, my heart’s ease,’ he muttered, burying his face in her soft curls, then running his lips down her small straight nose before covering her open, breathless mouth once more.

‘Pyotr – stop!’ She pulled away, shaking her head so that the curls swung backwards and forwards across her flushed face. ‘We must get back. It is getting late. Oh, heavens, what shall I do with my hair?’

She had visions of Sophia’s furious face, Tassya’s malicious gaze, the countess’s frown, as she appeared with Pyotr in the carriage with her head uncovered, her hair in disarray, and her mouth bruised from his kisses.

Carefully she began fumbling along the seat searching for her lost pins.

‘Cover your hair with the kerchief, Varinka, and it will do quite well until you get to your room. I do not understand why women pay such attention to elaborate and tricky hairstyles,’ he went on, calling to the horses and giving the reins a flick, ‘when their wonderful hair is one of the most beautiful things about them. Like yours is now, Varinka.’

Pyotr glanced down as she continued to tut and search and fumble with her unruly locks.

‘Every female I have known has spent hours at her dressing-table
with her maid pulling and pinning and tweaking and coiling, until all the glory has vanished into what looks like a loaf of bread!’

In an instant Valerie’s happiness disappeared and she sat upright, clutching at her scarlet kerchief with hot, sticky hands. Every female he had known. Those words had been spoken with the confidence of a man who had seen many women in their bedrooms busy at their toilette, and her heart fell like a stone to the soles of her worn, scuffed shoes.

How many women had Pyotr Silakov known? To how many had he vowed undying love, as he now vowed to Valerie and had doubtless promised his approaching bride?

This handsome, charming, lovable man had promised her and her unborn children all the love in the world, and she believed him. But how many others had received such vows before her? And how many more would hear such words once he was married, and had settled his doting little mistress in some secluded apartment?

The idea of children also worried her despite Pyotr’s reassuring words. If she thought the matter out sensibly, away from his seductive caresses and passionate kisses, how could she give her children a normal life with a father who came only infrequently to see them?

There would be no family to shelter them; they could never visit Mavara to meet their aunt or grandmother, or any half-brothers or half-sisters they might have; nor could they ever be taken to England and introduced to their grandfather in Putney.

She, Valerie Marsh, alone and unwed, would have to bear the brunt of all their questions as they grew older, the mockery of their friends, the scorn and possible rejection of their friends’ parents. She would love them most dearly and knew that Pyotr would love them whenever he was with them. But did she have the strength to cope most of the time on her own?

Slowly she tied the crumpled scarf around her head, hiding the loose flowing locks that Pyotr found so entrancing, and which demonstrated her immoral ways to the world.

‘There – you look prim and proper once again, Varinka,’ said Pyotr’s confident, amused voice beside her. When she didn’t reply he glanced down in surprise. ‘Why such a strange expression? There is nobody here to see you, my love, and we are back in time to prepare for our picnic by the lake. Smile and look happy, Little England.’

Still she did not smile and before he could question her further they were entering the wide iron gates and driving into the courtyard. Feodor flung open the front door and stood waiting to greet them, and a stable lad ran forward to take the reins.

Pyotr leapt down from his seat and walked round to assist Valerie onto the cobbled yard, wondering what had changed his laughing tousled Varinka into this tight-lipped crone?

With a quick nod she walked away from him towards the open doorway. There was no chance of more discussion then and unlikely to be any for the rest of that day. What the devil was she playing at?

Cursing the lack of time left for them, and the impossibility of any private talk, Pyotr watched the small grey figure with the scarlet headscarf climb the stairs, before he followed more purposefully and went into the study.

He needed a drink before going upstairs. He was in a foul mood and Valerie’s extraordinary behaviour had ruined his anticipation of the approaching party.

Pyotr had always prided himself on his understanding of women. He had known enough, heaven knew, and should have been able to cope with anything this infuriating little foreigner did. Yet time after time his Varinka had both surprised and confused him, and now she had placed him in another
quandary. Was this petulant behaviour contrived to make him show more interest in her? Was she hoping to make him marry her despite the impossibility of such a match?

Grabbing the bottle of vodka, Pyotr poured himself a generous amount before lifting the glass and swallowing the contents.

That was better.

He knew Valerie loved him, just as he loved her, so it was up to him to take charge of the situation and organize their future together.