Feeling foolish Alexei rose to his feet and brushed the snow from his boots and trousers. ‘I told my grandmother tonight that I love Ruth and will marry her as soon as possible.’

  ‘Was she overjoyed?’

  Alexei stepped into a yellow circle of light that turned his skin white. ‘As overjoyed as you.’

  ‘That happy?’ Nathan’s breath was foggy in the artificial light.

  Ruth opened her window, saw Alexei, and smiled until Nathan stepped between them.

  ‘Grandmother asked me to invite you both to supper or afternoon tea,’ Alexei blurted.

  ‘And you decided to deliver the message at …’ Nathan pulled out his watch and squinted at the face. ‘… ten minutes to midnight.’

  ‘I was passing.’

  ‘As you live opposite the hospital, you do that every day. Couldn’t it wait until morning?’

  ‘Will you accept my grandmother’s invitation?’

  ‘What would be the point in such a meeting, Alexei?’

  ‘You and Ruth could sample my grandmother’s cook’s baking, which is excellent. My grandmother and you could discuss Ruth and me and agree we’re both insane and Ruth and I can spend time together.’

  ‘Put like that, how can I possibly refuse? I will look at the duty rotas and write to your grandmother to let her know when Ruth and I are able to visit.’

  ‘Thank you, Nathan.’

  ‘In the meantime I expect you to behave like a gentleman, Alexei, and you, Ruth, to behave like a lady. Go to bed and close your curtains.’

  Ruth slammed her window shut and pulled the drapes.

  ‘Behaving like a gentleman, Alexei, means no visits to Ruth’s bedroom, at any hour.’

  ‘I am outside your front door, not in her bedroom.’

  ‘If I hadn’t been here, how long would have stayed outside?’

  When Alexei didn’t answer Nathan continued. ‘I want your word that you will respect Ruth.’

  Alexei sensed Ruth listening at her window.

  ‘Alexei?’ Nathan repeated.

  ‘You have my word.’

  Sunday 10th April 1871

  Easter Day in Gregorian Calendar, fourteen days before Easter in the Julian Calendar used in Russia

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Nathan asked Sarah when he walked into the office to find her and Sonya working on the supply ledgers. ‘I thought you were dining at Mrs Ignatova’s today to celebrate the British Easter.’

  ‘We’re not going until this evening,’ Sarah explained. ‘When Sonya called in to see Anna this morning she mentioned she was concerned that we were about to run out of chloroform, belladonna, mercury salts, and sulphur.’

  ‘Are we?’

  ‘Not if the last order we sent to Taganrog is delivered this week, but given the storm that blew up yesterday, I doubt it will. I hope whoever’s bringing the delivery wasn’t caught on the steppe. If he was, he’ll have frozen to death.’

  ‘There were warning signs. The delivery drivers are adept at finding shelter.’

  ‘You’ve finished the ward round?’ Sarah checked.

  ‘I have.’

  ‘Everything quiet?’ she asked.

  ‘You heard Cossack soldiers came into town last night, drank the beer shop and hotel dry, and caused trouble?’

  ‘I couldn’t help but hear them myself. They spent half the night singing in the street below my balcony. I hoped the snow would drive them indoors but it didn’t seem to have much effect.’

  ‘Nothing does when it comes to drunks. More officers came in from the garrison this morning. They rounded up the wounded from the ward, and the stragglers from the town. They sent them back under guard and stayed on only to carry on drinking where their comrades left off.’

  ‘You’re expecting more trouble?’ she questioned.

  ‘I think we should make the most of this peaceful interlude. The officers are celebrating their first leave for months and celebrating for the Cossacks means a prodigious consumption of vodka. That usually leads to frayed tempers and fights. If I were a gambling man I’d put every spare rouble on us having a few more broken heads and fists through the door before morning.’

  Sarah closed the ledger she’d been working on and handed it to Sonya.

  ‘Shall I make tea?’ Sonya replaced the ledger on the shelf.

  ‘Yes, please,’ Nathan replied.

  ‘Me too, please,’ Sarah added. ‘If you’ve finished your round, I should check on the patients.’

  ‘You’ve trained the girls so well there’s nothing for you to do. Ruth, Rivka, and Miriam have every man in the place washed, shaved, fed, and tucked up so tight he dare not turn in his bed or lift his head from the pillow for fear of creasing the linen.’

  She winced. It was the sort of teasing remark Peter used to make.

  ‘So go dress for Mrs Ignatova’s dinner.’

  Sarah made sure Sonya wasn’t in the corridor within hearing distance before replying. ‘I’d rather stay here. I’d only look around Mrs Ignatova’s table and think of all the people who should be there but aren’t.’

  ‘I feel the same way on our festival days when I look at the chairs my father and mother used to occupy and they both died years, not months ago.’ He glanced through the window.

  ‘So you’ll tell Sonya you need me?’

  ‘I may have to. I’m a fortune teller. A casualty is about to walk in. It looks like he needs stitches and possibly chloroform.’

  Sarah joined him at the window. Two lieutenants were half-carrying, half-hauling a third under the direction of a captain.

  ‘As you foretold, a broken head,’ Sarah noted the blood trickling down the man’s cheek from a scalp wound.

  ‘I can see they’re drunk from the way they’re walking. Leave me to deal with them.’

  Sarah ignored him and stepped out. ‘Take him into the treatment room,’ she ordered the captain in Russian.

  ‘You’re the English nurse?’

  ‘She is.’ Nathan moved beside her.

  ‘I want you to see to my friend.’ The captain jabbed his finger at Sarah and ignored Nathan. ‘Not a Jew boy.’

  ‘You’ll do as you’re told in here, Misha Razin, or get out.’ Vlad, who’d been appointed head porter appeared from the back room where the porters were eating their midday meal.

  ‘He …’ one of the soldiers aimed a wavering finger at Nathan, ‘is a …’

  ‘Doctor, and lucky for you he’s here.’ Vlad drew himself up to his full height. ‘All of you leave your friend so he can be attended to.’ Vlad eyed the casualty. ‘That’s Yulia’s brother, Kirill, isn’t it?’

  ‘It is,’ Misha slurred.

  ‘Take my advice, get yourself and your lieutenants back to the barracks to sleep it off, Misha, before your mother sees you.’

  To Nathan and Sarah’s amazement, all three officers walked out without a murmur.

  ‘Prepare the operating theatre please, Matron. The sooner we stitch up this idiot the sooner he’ll stop bleeding.’

  ‘Yes, Dr Kharber.’ She wondered if she’d imagined the wink or if he’d really lowered his eyelid.

  Dower House, Beletsky Estate

  British Easter Day, April 1871

  Catherine raised her glass and looked down the table at her guests. She couldn’t bear to mention her daughter or granddaughters but neither could she ignore the losses they’d all suffered. ‘Absent friends,’ she toasted.

  Glyn and John touched their glasses to hers. Although Glyn had lost weight, and his face was pale and drawn, it was his eyes that affected Catherine the most. They were cold, without a spark of light.

  Richard and Anna were at the opposite end of the table with Sonya and Alexei. She’d hoped the young people would create a lively atmosphere but they’d sat through the meal as solemn and silent as monks and nuns in retreat.

  ‘Thank you, Catherine, for a superb meal. A real Russian Easter.’

  ‘An early Ukrainian Easter, Mr Hughes,’ Alexei corrected. ‘The shynka – that’s the ham – lamb, and veal are traditional Ukrainian fare.’

  ‘I stand corrected. A real Ukrainian Easter. You couldn’t have felt much like celebrating,’ John acknowledged.

  ‘As everyone keeps reminding me, life continues whether we want to partake or not. Besides, our Easter is two weeks away and I intend to spend that day in silent prayer for my dead and contemplation of Christ arisen.’ Catherine sipped her wine. ‘How is Sarah? I’ve scarcely seen her since we left the Beletsky manor.’

  ‘Throwing herself into work. Stitching drunken Cossacks back together and hoping the outbreak of scarlet fever that’s kept her and her trainees busy is over,’ Glyn answered.

  ‘I trust it is. I don’t need anything else to delay the building of the furnaces,’ John added.

  ‘More labour is coming in every day.’ Alexei took one of the cigars the butler was handing out. ‘I’ve delegated the housing of the incomers to the hetman in Alexandrovka. As the newcomers will be their neighbours I thought the Cossacks should have a say in where they live. He’s had bachelor pits, with dormitories of fifty bunks to a room, dug, with communal kitchens.’

  ‘I’ve seen entire families come in,’ Glyn observed.

  ‘The hetman is allowing them to dig their own pits within boundaries he’s laid out.’

  ‘It must be cold, living in a hole in the ground at this time of year.’ John watched sparks fly up the chimney after a footman threw an extra log on the fire. ‘I know Mrs Edwards is concerned about the conditions. I wish we had more houses at the company’s disposal so every worker and his family could have one, but it will take years to build that many.’

  ‘The Mujiks have lived in holes for centuries, and people wouldn’t have travelled here if they had better where they’d come from.’ Alexei repeated Father Grigor’s observation.

  ‘They’re no different from the Irish who flocked to the ironworks and collieries in Wales during the famine, sir,’ Glyn said philosophically.

  ‘People brought low by hunger are enslaved by their desire to live. I hoped for better conditions for my workers.’ John finished his wine.

  ‘You’re upset about what was said in the Duma about the wages your company pay your Russian workers,’ Catherine guessed. ‘Anyone with a modicum of intelligence would realise the reason behind the disparity. It’s logical for a skilled man to be paid a higher rate than an unskilled worker.’

  ‘Fifty kopeks a day is more than twice what my father paid his workers who lived out of the main house and they were paid in goods, not money.’ Alexei glanced out of the window. The twilight had thickened. Night was drawing in.

  ‘So the English Easter day ends. Thank you, all of you, for making it pass. Shall we ignore convention and instead of separating ladies from gentlemen retire to the drawing room for tea, coffee, wine, and brandy?’ Catherine suggested.

  ‘I’ll take a bottle of cherry wine to the hospital, Grandmother.’ Alexei held Catherine’s chair while she rose. ‘Mrs Edwards, Dr Kharber, and the girls might appreciate some cheer.’

  ‘Take some of Lyudmila’s Easter biscuits. What the girls don’t want they can pass on to the patients.’

  ‘You want to come with me, Sonya, Richard, Anna?’

  ‘Please,’ they chorused. The meal had been excellent, Catherine’s hospitality faultless, but none of them wanted to stay in an atmosphere so redolent of loss.

  ‘Thank you for today, sirs,’ Alexei said to John and Glyn. ‘My grandmother, Sonya, and I weren’t looking forward to this English holy day.’

  ‘None of us were, and I doubt you would have celebrated it if we British hadn’t been here.’ Glyn moved so the butler could clear his glass.

  Alexei held the door open for Sonya and Anna.

  ‘You returning here?’ Catherine asked.

  ‘No thank you, Grandmother, I have to work in the morning.’

  ‘I hoped we could persuade you and Miss Sonya to dine at my house next Sunday,’ Glyn invited. ‘If so, perhaps we could prevail on Sarah and possibly Nathan and Ruth to join us as well.’

  ‘I’d be delighted.’ Catherine looked at Sonya.

  ‘So would I, Aunt Catherine.’

  Catherine took John’s arm. Alexei and the young people shouted their goodbyes. Before the footman drew the drapes, Catherine saw Richard and Alexei tossing snowballs at one another as they raced down the drive.

  ‘It takes longer for boys to grow up than girls.’ Glyn watched Sonya and Anna link arms and walk sedately behind the boys.

  ‘That depends on the boy, Mr Edwards. Draw your chairs up to the fire, gentlemen. Boris, leave my guests to serve themselves and enjoy your evening meal in the servants’ quarters.’

  ‘Thank you, Madam.’ Boris closed the door behind him.

  Catherine took the glass Glyn gave her. ‘You’re not allowing the Moscow press to upset you, are you Mr Hughes?’

  ‘Press?’ Glyn asked.

  John slipped his hand into the inside pocket of his jacket and removed a folded page of newspaper.

  Glyn opened it to reveal a cartoon. A caricature of John on top of a hill; coins spilling from a bulging sack slung over his shoulder as he stood beneath a sign pointing to “England” in Russian.

  Uncertain how much Russian Glyn had acquired, John explained, ‘the sign says England. The coins are silver roubles.’

  ‘I gathered the gist of it, sir. You may have enemies but you also have friends. Didn’t Grand Duke Konstantin promise to visit as soon as we’re operational?’

  ‘He did.’

  ‘Here’s to becoming operational soon. A toast to the works and Hughesovka iron.’ Glyn held up his glass.

  ‘If we’re going to have this many toasts we should open another bottle of wine,’ Catherine suggested. ‘This brandy is going to my head.’

  ‘We can afford to relax today,’ John returned the newspaper cutting to his pocket. ‘Tomorrow we’ll be so busy there’ll be no time to laze in front of a roaring fire.’

  ‘You’re happy with the way Praskovia and her mother are running your house, Mr Edwards?’ Catherine enquired.

  ‘Very.’

  ‘Sarah too?’

  ‘She’s so busy in the hospital she’s only too delighted to hand over the domesticity to Praskovia.’

  Catherine finally broached the subject she’d been leading up to. ‘Sarah’s also happy to be working with Nathan, his sister, and the girls from the shtetl?’

  ‘Why shouldn’t she be?’

  ‘Their religion makes no difference to her or you?’

  ‘Absolutely not,’ Glyn and John concurred.

  ‘Alexei told me that you and your British workers hold no prejudice against the Jews. I find that difficult to believe.’

  ‘Everyone knows how you stood up to your son-in-law when he tried to ban Nathan from his house,’ John reminded.

  ‘Nicholas was being idiotic, ordering the only doctor for miles out of his house in a cholera epidemic.’

  ‘Why are you asking about our attitude to Nathan? There’ve been no complaints about him or the hospital, have there?’ John asked.

  ‘None I know of.’ Catherine decided there was no point in trying to conceal what Alexei would soon be announcing to the world. ‘Alexei wants to marry Nathan’s sister Ruth.’

  ‘Alexei wants to marry Ruth Kharber! Are you sure?’ Glyn was astounded.

  ‘I was amazed as you, Mr Edwards, but I don’t need to explain why he’s concealed his love for Ruth given the hostility towards the Jews.’

  ‘But Praskovia …’

  ‘She and Sonya helped with the deception. They were friends as children and they’re still close. My grandson’s subterfuge has shocked you, Mr Edwards? Or is it his choice of bride?’

  ‘Neither, Mrs Ignatova.’ Glyn splashed brandy into all three glasses. ‘It’s wonderful news. We must toast the health of the future bride and groom.’

  Hospital, Hughesovka

  British Easter Day 1871

  Ruth pulled the dressing trolley up to Kirill’s bed and drew the curtains that separated him from his neighbours. She’d discovered the strongest man could be transformed into a whimpering child when it came to pain, and the worse a nurse could do was to expose him to ridicule by allowing others to witness his tears.

  ‘How are you feeling, soldier?’ She lifted Kirill’s hand and placed her fingers on his pulse.

  ‘What do you care, Jew whore?’ He opened one eye and glared at her.

  Ignoring his retort, she lifted the dressing from his scalp and checked the stitches Nathan had used to close the wound. As she leaned over Kirill, he threw back the bedclothes, lifted his hospital nightshirt, grabbed her hand, and pressed it against his erection.

  She dropped the dressing, balled her right hand into a fist, and brought it down hard on the base of his penis as Sarah had taught her.

  Kirill yelped. ‘Jewish bitch! I’ll get you for that.’

  ‘Trouble, Nurse Kharber?’ Sarah opened the curtain. She took in the situation. ‘Amend this patient’s notes please, nurse. Curtains are not to be pulled around his bed under any circumstances.’

  ‘Yes, Matron.’

  ‘Take your break. Ask the head porter to come here please.’

  Ruth pulled back the drapes. Sarah moved close to the bed. ‘Shall we say you were drunk, concussed, and not in possession of your faculties, soldier?’

  ‘That Jewish …’

  ‘Disagree with me and you’ll be the last Cossack soldier to be treated in this hospital. It’s snowing again. Would you like to leave, right now, this minute, and dress outside? Your clothes are in the locker at the side of your bed.’

  ‘It must be the vodka,’ he muttered.

  ‘A full apology that includes the word sorry, an assurance you will treat my staff with respect, won’t cause any more trouble and I may – may –’ she emphasised, ‘allow you to stay.’

  Kirill continued to glare at Sarah but he complied with her demands. Vlad appeared. He too assessed the situation without being told.

  ‘You’d like me to station a porter at this man’s bedside, Matron?’

  ‘Please, Vlad, one of the strongest.’

  ‘Leave it to me, Matron.’

 

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