Valerie's Russia (17 page)

L
ater that afternoon Valerie put all worries behind her for a few hours. It would be foolish to wander around with a miserable face when it would do neither her, nor her present circumstances, any good. She would try to forget about the future and concentrate instead on the cray-fishing and Tassya’s surprise.

By five o’clock the sun was lower in the sky and beginning to lose its fierce heat, so a small train of carriages and carts began queuing up in the courtyard. A pony and trap were there for the countess and Valerie, and two drozhkys for Pyotr and Sophia, Tassya and Andrei. The carts were there to transport all the provisions and utensils as well as Sidor Novatko, Conrad, Feodor, Dunya, and Sophia’s maid, Vera.

Wishing yet again that she had something special to wear for the celebrations, Valerie put on her newly washed and very faded blue cotton dress, and tied back her carefully brushed hair with a blue velvet ribbon grudgingly given to her by the countess.

It was Tassya’s evening, and Valerie had spent her few precious hours with Pyotr, so would now concentrate on his sister. Tassya still refused to have anything to do with her, but if she had regained the use of her legs maybe, in the excitement of recovery and in Valerie’s very genuine pleasure, then maybe she and Tassya could be friends again. At least for the time she remained living at Mavara.

At 5.20 Conrad came up to collect the countess and Valerie followed them down the stairs to where the young men, and Tassya in her chair, were waiting.

‘I suppose Sophia is going to make a grand entrance,’ said Pyotr sarcastically, irritated by his betrothed’s tardiness and still smarting from Valerie’s hasty retreat after their happy time together. But he felt better when she flashed him a quick smile before following Conrad and the countess out into the yard.

Thank heavens, she was his loving Little England once again.

As Valerie climbed into the little trap and took her place beside the countess, she glanced back to see Pyotr appearing in the doorway with Sophia on his arm. Then she gave a gasp of admiration at the vision on the top step.

Countess Irina also looked back as she gathered up the reins.

‘Quite unsuitable for a picnic!’ she snapped.

But Valerie remained silent, her eyes wide in astonishment.

Sophia was clad in a dress of brilliant green silk, low cut and sleeveless, gathered tightly at her knees by an enormous green brooch encrusted with silver, and then trailing to her ankles.

‘She can scarcely walk,’ said the countess. ‘And look at her shoes!’

Sophia teetered on the highest pair of black satin shoes Valerie had ever seen, which were decorated with the same green and silver stones. Over her tight-fitting dress was a delicately pleated tunic of green silk edged with black braid, and a cummerbund of black satin encased her slender waist.

‘I believe it is called a hobble-skirt,’ said Valerie, finding her voice at last.

She remembered how she and Grand Duchess Olga had studied a French fashion magazine called ‘La Gazette du Bon Ton’ and how they had become quite hysterical laughing at some of the more outrageous fashion plates.

Quickly Valerie put such memories out of her mind. It wouldn’t do to think about those happy days with the Imperial family. So she concentrated on Sophia Lukaev instead.

The beauty from St Petersburg certainly possessed the audacity and the figure to wear such daring attire and look splendid in it. A tiny green cap was perched on top of her built-up hair, and at the back of her head two ostrich feathers swooped, dyed black to match the braiding on her tunic and the satin at her waist.

Valerie wondered what Pyotr thought about such an extravaganza, but his face was expressionless as he helped Sophia down the steps. When they reached their carriage he had to pick her up in his arms and place her carefully into the drozhky. There was no way she could have climbed into it herself.

‘Off we go!’ shouted the countess. ‘We have wasted enough time on that young lady and I want my food.’

She gave the reins a flick and they began to move slowly away from the house and down the slope towards the lake. Once it was reached, Countess Irina was helped to the water’s edge by Conrad and given a folding stool to sit on. Then he produced a stick with a line on the end of it, and tied on a small lump of meat.

‘This is how cray-fishing is done at Mavara,’ she said, dangling her line into the water. ‘You hold the net, Valerie, and if I catch something get that net under it
at once,
you hear?’

Valerie nodded, taking the long-handled net from Conrad, who then returned to the cart and began collecting more lines and nets and folding stools for the others.

Behind them, Sidor Novatko was building a fire on which he placed two bricks, then a heavy pot filled with water. Vera and Dunya were throwing raw potatoes onto the flames and Feodor was busy with a white cloth. He spread it out on the grass then
placed plates and bowls of salad, and glasses and bottles of wine upon it.

Tassya sat in her chair close to the water’s edge where Andrei assisted her with rod and line, and Pyotr leaned lazily against the side of the open carriage, chatting to Sophia in her green and black elegance.

‘I suppose she will remain perched up there for the entire evening,’ said the countess. ‘I knew that was a stupid garment to wear. She won’t be able to join in our picnic at all.’

‘Pyotr will look after her,’ said Valerie, thinking how pleasant it would be to be dressed in one’s best, seated high above everyone else, and to be served food and wine by an attentive lover.

Hastily she looked across at Tassya, who was talking to Andrei. When would she surprise them? Presumably when the food was cooked and the first glasses raised to congratulate her?

Suddenly there was a shriek from the countess and dangling on the end of her line was a very large crayfish.

‘Quickly, Valerie – the net, the net!’

Grabbing hold of her net, Valerie swung it beneath the creature and managed to capture it before it could fall back into the water.

‘We are the first,’ said Countess Irina, with satisfaction. ‘I may be old and useless in many ways but I can still catch crayfish. Take it over to Sidor, Valerie, I’m getting hungry.’

Valerie hurried with her struggling burden over to the roaring fire, where Sidor plunged it into the boiling pot.

As nobody else proved successful after that, Tassya became impatient.

‘Go on, Dunya,’ she said. ‘Jump into the water and catch some for us. We need more than one.’ She grinned at Valerie as the maid obediently walked a little way down the bank and began removing her clothes. ‘Don’t you wish you could join her, Valerie Marsh?’

‘No, thank you,’ said Valerie, turning her head away as the pink, well-rounded form of Dunya began walking sedately into the lake.

‘We were only joking,’ said the countess beside her, ‘but it is a good way of catching these darned creatures.’

Valerie realized that the countess was enjoying herself. All her ailments were forgotten and she was out in the fresh air, behaving like a normal human being once more. I’ll suggest a drive around the estate tomorrow, thought Valerie. It will do us both good after being shut away in those rooms upstairs. I will see and learn more about Mavara, and the countess will be encouraged to take an interest in things again.

Just as she was pondering there came a shout from across the water and everyone stared in surprise at the far bank. Silhouetted against the red sky was a black figure on horseback, gesticulating into the air.

‘Who the devil is that?’ asked Pyotr, moving away from the carriage and raising his hand to his eyes as he gazed at the unexpected stranger.

The man was yelling so hoarsely and so quickly that Valerie couldn’t understand him, but Pyotr heard and so did Andrei.

With a muffled exclamation, Andrei left Tassya’s side and went to join his friend.

‘We hear you, Lev Garbuz,’ shouted Pyotr. ‘Tell them we are coming!’

‘What was that about?’ said the countess, whilst Sophia called plaintively from her seat in the carriage.

Valerie, staring at Pyotr as he came striding back towards them, saw excitement blazing in his eyes.

‘That was Lev Garbuz from Kamenka. He has received a telegraph from St Petersburg. Germany has declared war and we must return to Tsarskoe Selo at once.’

‘Oh no.’ The countess’s voice was scarcely above a whisper.

Pyotr nodded then leaned forward to grasp one of her hands.

‘The Tsar is issuing a formal proclamation of hostilities tomorrow,’ he said, ‘that Germany is in a state of war with Holy Russia.’

Despite the gravity of such unexpected news, he was elated. There would be no marriage to Sophia for the time being, and he could get away to face the enemy with a good horse under him, and a lethal sabre gleaming in his hand.

Andrei, too, felt an enormous sense of relief. He, more than Pyotr, had feared the future because of the growing unrest amongst the peasants. Now war would unite them all. It would be a joining of noble and commoner, prince and peasant, in the battle to protect Holy Russia. And all thought of revolution would be erased.

Quickly, Pyotr and Andrei bade farewell to the women. After kissing his mother, Pyotr turned to Valerie and held her hands tightly in his.

‘Stay here,’ he said. ‘Stay at Mavara and I will be in touch.’ Then he walked away to hug his weeping sister.

‘You can’t go yet!’ cried Tassya. ‘It’s my birthday and you haven’t seen my surprise.’

‘Keep it, Tassya – another time.’ Pyotr left her and hurried over to the drozhky where he reached for Sophia’s hand and held it briefly to his lips. ‘Hurry, Odarka,’ he called over his shoulder. ‘A train leaves Kamenka at 9.30 and we’ll catch it if we are quick.’

Andrei bent over Tassya’s trembling form.

‘Your surprise will last,’ he said. ‘We will get leave once all this has been sorted out and we’ll be down again for a proper celebration then. Just be patient, Tassya.’

Then he ran for the second drozhky after a hurried bow towards the countess and Valerie.

‘What about me?’ wailed Sophia, sitting green and beautiful in her carriage as the men disappeared down the track in a cloud of dust.

They intended picking up a few belongings from the house before leaving for Kamenka and a train north to the capital.

For those remaining behind there was a terrible feeling of anticlimax. Countess Irina sat staring ahead of her over the water, her rod dangling limply in her hands. Tassya continued to sob quietly and Sophia’s wailing dwindled to a depressed silence.

The servants huddled around the fire uncertain whether food was to be eaten, or not. And further along the bank Dunya began to dry herself and put on her clothing, having caught nothing.

Sighing, Valerie walked back to the fire.

‘Open the wine, Feodor,’ she said, ‘and get the plates ready for the potatoes and salad. Divide up the crayfish and we’ll eat and drink before going back.’

Feodor nodded, grateful for orders, and immediately the little group around the fire became busy, preparing for the repast.

Ignoring Sophia, Valerie went across to stand beside Tassya.

‘What is your surprise?’ she said clearly.

Tassya shrugged, her face lowered in misery.

‘What’s the use?’ she said. ‘Nothing matters now.’

‘Of course it matters! Now, more than ever before – everything matters, Tassya! Your country is at war and will need every man, woman, and child, to give it support and show courage and hope for the future. Tell me, have you regained the use of your legs?’

Tassya flashed the English girl a look of disdain.

‘Yes, Valerie Marsh, I can walk again thanks to the prayers of Father Grigorii. But what use is that when nobody can see me?”

‘For goodness sake, pull yourself together!’ Valerie could
have slapped the tear-streaked woeful face. ‘You have been healed and that is the most wonderful thing that could ever have happened to you: Get up, Tassya,’ she shouted. ‘Go and show your mother what you can do. Now!’

Valerie’s voice was so loud that Tassya sniffed and obeyed. Without difficulty, moving with new-found agility, she stood up then walked slowly across the grass to her mother.

‘I can walk again, Mother,’ she said, bending over the silent woman, whose head jerked up before she gave a cry and lifted her arms to embrace her daughter.

With a smile Valerie watched the pair, then she turned and gave the wheelchair a shove over the bank where it sank slowly into the water. Tassya heard the splash and straightened, staring at the place where her chair had stood.

‘My chair!’ she cried, pulling away from the countess and moving towards Valerie. ‘How dare you throw it in the water!’

‘You won’t be needing it again,’ said Valerie. ‘You can walk now and it’s time you led a normal life at Mavara. Your mother needs you, the estate needs
you
, and whilst Pyotr is away it’ll be up to you to keep things running smoothly. Thank God you are now fit enough to take on such a challenge.’

A challenge? Tassya liked the sound of that and the thought of responsibility at last. Maybe she could do it, and prove to both Pyotr and Andrei how capable she was.

‘Will somebody please pay attention to me?’ Sophia’s voice floated across to them.

Hastily Vera ran forward to collect a plate from Feodor and Valerie did the same, realizing that none of them had eaten for hours and sustenance was needed before they could plan for the future. She hoped the men had been able to grab something from the kitchen before departing.

After helping the countess move nearer her future daughter-in-law and settling her on the folding stool with a plate of food
and glass of wine, Valerie collected some more for herself before sitting down next to Tassya on the grass.

At first all the talk was centred on the young girl and her miraculous recovery, and Valerie listened to praise for Grigorii Rasputin without interrupting. This was Tassya’s day and although the men were not there to enjoy her revelation, it was important for her to receive attention and congratulations from her mother and Sophia.