‘Please don’t disturb him, Mr Edwards. I’ll enjoy the fresh air.’

  ‘I’ll saddle Agripin and the mare and escort Sonya to the Dower House.’ Alexei set his fur hat on his head.

  ‘It’ll take you an hour there and back and you have to be up early,’ Sonya protested.

  ‘Drunken Cossacks are abroad,’ Alexei warned.

  Suspecting Alexei’s offer had more to do with snatching a quick visit to the Kharbers’ quarters than concern for Sonya’s safety, Glyn conceded defeat over the sleigh and closed the front door.

  ‘May we clear the table now, sir?’ Praskovia asked.

  ‘Of course. I hope we didn’t keep you up.’

  ‘No sir. It’s only half past nine.’

  ‘In that case I’ll make a quick visit to the bath house; I’ll be out by ten if anyone wants to use it, Praskovia. Goodnight everyone.’ Glyn headed for the back door.

  Sarah, Richard, and Anna helped Praskovia and Yelena load the trays for the kitchen. After the maids had carried them away Sarah hugged Anna.

  ‘You look exhausted and you’re on afternoon shift tomorrow. You know the rules.’

  ‘Look after yourself or you won’t be able to look after the patients,’ Anna chanted.

  Sarah dropped a kiss on the top of Anna’s head. ‘See you at breakfast, darling.’

  Anna kissed Richard goodnight before running up the stairs. Sarah returned to the drawing room.

  Richard followed. ‘I don’t feel tired.’

  ‘Neither do I although I know I should. Shall we be devils and have one more glass of wine?’

  While Sarah poured the wine, Richard moved the chess board. ‘Do you fancy playing another game with me, Mrs Edwards?’

  ‘Why not.’

  ‘If it upsets you …’

  ‘Why would playing chess upset me?’

  ‘You said that you used to play with Dr Edwards.’

  ‘I like doing things I used to do with him. It’s an affirmation of life. A way of remembering him and the good times.’ She suddenly saw the truth that lay behind the trite phrases people used at times of unbearable sorrow. ‘He would have wanted me to carry on living. He wouldn’t have wanted me to waste my life in mourning.’

  She moved her chair closer to the table, picked up two pawns, hid them in her hands, and held them out. ‘Choose and find out if you have black or white?’

  He tapped her right hand. She unfolded her fingers to reveal a white pawn. ‘You’re in luck, you have the edge.’

  Their fingers touched as he took the piece from her hand. She glanced up to see him watching her. For the first time she caught a glimpse of the man emerging from the boy, and for some reason she couldn’t quite quantify, found it disturbing.

  Wrapped in his robe, Glyn shivered when he exchanged the heat of the banya for the ice of the night. He ran into the house and made his way to his room. A log fire was blazing in the hearth and the brandy decanter and a glass were on the table next to his favourite chair.

  He poured himself a drink, revelled in the luxury of warmth, and tried to think through the implication of the news that Alexei was in love with Ruth.

  An image of Praskovia filled his mind. Tall, statuesque, decked out in a gold-embroidered scarlet gown she’d worn when she, Yelena, and Pyotr had left the house to attend a Cossack wedding.

  She didn’t love Alexei! He smiled at the thought that she was free before remembering he wasn’t. He opened his watch and gazed at a photograph of his wife. Betty’s dark eyes stared back at him.

  Days – weeks passed without him sparing her a single thought. The only time he remembered he had a wife was when he received one of her infrequent letters. Even then he often left it unopened for the best part of a day, or even days. Waking or sleeping, his dreams were of Praskovia, not Betty, but much as he wanted Praskovia he knew all he could offer her was loss of reputation and respectability.

  ‘Sir?’ Praskovia had to call him a second time before he realised she’d entered his room through the hall door.

  ‘Sorry, my mind was elsewhere.’

  ‘I did knock, sir. The servants are going to bed. Can I get you anything?’

  ‘No, thank you and thank your mother for preparing such a splendid cold supper.’

  ‘I will, sir.’ She picked up the empty plate.

  ‘Praskovia.’

  ‘Sir?’

  He recalled the night they’d met, the glimpse of her naked body that haunted his sleeping and waking moments. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you didn’t love Alexei?’

  ‘It was Alexei’s secret, not mine.’

  ‘Do you always do what Alexei asks?’

  ‘I loved Ivan Kalmykov. After he was killed it didn’t matter what anyone thought of me. Alexei and Ruth are my friends. They needed help. I offered.’

  He had to ask. ‘Is there a young man who’s been waiting for Alexei to reveal the truth so he can court you?’

  ‘No, sir, but it’s a relief the lying is over. My mother will be pleased. She suspected there was something odd about me and Alexei.’

  ‘I thought you’d have told her.’

  ‘She was tired after my brother’s visit. I’ll tell her tomorrow.’

  He couldn’t stop looking at her. She was close, so close; all he had to do was reach out to touch her.

  She stepped away from him. Instead of opening the door, she set the plate she was holding aside and turned the key in the lock.

  ‘Praskovia …’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘I’m married.’

  ‘Without a wife.’

  ‘She may not be here but all I can offer you is a position as my mistress. I respect you too much for that.’

  She slipped the buttons from the loops on the front of her gown and allowed it to fall to the floor. She wasn’t wearing anything beneath it.

  His breath caught in his throat. The feelings that had taken him by storm the first time he’d seen her naked, overwhelmed him. The tide of emotion washed away all sense, caution, logic …

  Moments later, his robe lay next to hers on the floor and they were on his bed. She explored his body with her fingertips, lips, and teeth. Caressing his mouth, nipples, torso, and genitals with her tongue.

  He buried his hands in her hair, and when he couldn’t stand the torment of her touch a moment longer, he lifted her on top of him and pierced her body with his own.

  He’d had sex with more women in brothels than he could recall. He’d been allowed ‘his rights’ with Betty, but he’d never made erotic, unselfish love with anyone the way he did that night with Praskovia.

  She anticipated his needs before he knew them. She kissed, fondled, and embraced his body with every inch of her own until he felt they’d fused into a single being. At the climax, he only existed as an extension of their combined pleasure.

  Afterwards, there was no shame as there would have been with Betty. No grabbing of clothes to cover nakedness. Praskovia lay in his arms, basking in the warmth from his body and the heat from the fire, her breasts on his chest, one hand resting between his thighs, the other caressing his face.

  ‘I knew this would happen the first time I saw you. My grandmother had second sight. I must have inherited it. Did you know we’d become lovers?’

  ‘I thought it was a wishful dream.’

  ‘I love you, master.’

  Her eyelids were drooping, heavy with sleep. ‘No more master.’ He kissed her forehead. ‘From now on it will be …’

  Will be what? Restless, he shifted on to his back, moved her head on to his shoulder, and breathed in her scent, a beguiling mix of cinnamon, cloves, orange, lemon, and rose water that reminded him of childhood Christmases.

  When sleep came he dreamed of Betty. They were lying in their bed in the Boot Inn and it was cold, so cold there was ice on the window pane. His wife moved close and whispered, ‘I’ve lifted my nightdress. You can take your rights.’

  Praskovia was lying the other side of him, naked and unashamed. He didn’t hesitate. He turned his back on Betty and opened his arms to Praskovia.

  Praskovia opened her eyes. The lamp wick had burned down and the room was in darkness, but she knew instinctively that morning wasn’t far away. She lifted Glyn’s hands away from her and waited.

  He rolled towards her. She moved to the edge of the bed. After a long – very long minute, his breathing settled back into the rhythm of sleep.

  She left the bed and found her gown. She slipped it on and made her way to the back door. She turned the key and stepped into the corridor. The door to her room was ajar. A lamp burned on the dresser. Her mother was slumped, snoring on a chair next to the bed. When she walked in Yelena sat up, blinked and stared blindly at her before focusing.

  ‘You have your own room.’ Praskovia threw back the bedcover and stepped into the bed.

  ‘As do you, but you don’t use it. What do you think you’re doing?’ She gave Praskovia no time to answer. ‘The master is married. Have you given a thought as to what will happen to you – to us – when the mistress arrives?’

  ‘She won’t.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘She’s not here.’

  ‘She could take it into her head to turn up. It’s her right to live in her husband’s house. The master’s a good-looking man. He’s rich. His wife could be missing him and his money. If she arrives and sniffs out what’s gone on between you two, you’ll be thrown out and Pyotr and me after you.’

  ‘She’s not coming and he won’t be throwing us out.’

  ‘That’s what Pyotr’s father said before he opened my legs.’

  Praskovia snuggled into her pillow. ‘Mr Edwards is not the count. He’s a good man.’

  ‘You’re not a good woman and the master’s not your first.’

  ‘I told him about Ivan. Even if I hadn’t, he would have guessed.’ Praskovia glared at her mother daring her to say more. ‘It’s good between us, Mama. In every way.’

  ‘You’re risking everything. Not just our work but our future.’

  ‘I’ll make sure there’s no gossip about the master and me.’

  ‘Have you considered what will happen if you have a child? He’ll have to throw you out then …’

  ‘Not another word, Mama! I have to rise in an hour. I want to sleep.’

  Yelena relinquished the chair.

  ‘I know what I’m doing.’

  ‘I hope you do, my girl, because I’ve never had it as comfortable as I have here. I’ll never find anywhere else as good and neither will you – or Pyotr. You know how difficult it will be to find a home that offers work and food on the table for him.’

  Glyn woke with a start and smiled when he recalled the events of the night. He reached out. The sheet alongside him was empty and cold. He climbed out of bed, opened the drapes that separated the sleeping area from his study, picked up his robe from the floor and shrugged it on.

  ‘Enter,’ he shouted at a knock at the back door. He hadn’t opened it since he’d locked it the night he’d arrived in Hughesovka. When Praskovia walked through he realised she must have unlocked it when she’d left that morning.

  ‘Good morning, sir. I trust you slept well.’

  ‘“Sir”? Praskovia …’ He tried to take the tray from her but she held it fast.

  ‘If there are to be more nights like last night, sir, we must maintain our master and servant relationship.’

  ‘No …’

  ‘If we didn’t it would leave you – and me – open to gossip, master. My reputation would be ruined.’

  ‘After what happened between us last night I can’t treat you like a servant.’

  ‘You don’t have to when I share your bed, master. But you pay my wages. I am your housekeeper. We can’t afford to excite suspicion that I am taking advantage of your kindness, or you my dependent position. If anyone should suspect we’re lovers, my mother and brothers would never be able to hold their heads up in Alexandrovka again.’

  A door closed somewhere in the house and they heard voices.

  ‘Shall I pour your tea, sir?’

  He didn’t answer but she poured it. He looked at her mutely.

  ‘It can’t be any other way, sir. If you want me in the night leave the back door unlocked.’

  He glanced at both doors to check they were closed before pulling her close to him and kissing her.

  She stepped back, straightened her clothes, and said, ‘Breakfast will be served in twenty minutes, master.’ She left by the back door.

  He realised the logic in what she’d said. If she was to keep her reputation it was the only way they could live. But it wasn’t what he wanted – not after what they’d shared and what he’d hoped their future would be.

  Hospital, Hughesovka

  April 1871

  ‘I’m sorry, Dr Kharber.’ Sonya handed Nathan a patient’s notes. He slipped them into a file and marked it with a black tab.

  ‘It’s always hard to lose a patient.’ Nathan turned his back on Sarah and Anna who were disinfecting the tarpaulin-covered mattress and iron frame of a bed at the end of the ward. The Cossack miner had been in the final stage of lung disease when he’d been brought in, but knowing there’d been no hope hadn’t stopped him from wishing for a miracle.

  ‘Can I get you a cup of tea?’

  ‘That’s the kindest thing that’s been said to me today since Ruth asked what I’d like for breakfast.’ He went into the office and sat at the large desk that faced the room. Sonya’s desk was positioned close to the doorway that opened into the hall so she could monitor the comings and goings of staff, patients, and visitors.

  Sonya brought in a tray. On it were two cups of tea and a plate of biscuits and cake. ‘Given the orgy of baking that’s going on in every house in Hughesovka in preparation for the Russian Easter we’re going to be eating rich, spiced confectionery for months.’ She set a cup and plate on Nathan’s desk.

  ‘Better too much than too little. Will you leave the hospital when the school opens?’

  ‘You’ve heard Mr Hughes has offered me a teaching post?’

  ‘Hughesovka is getting to be like the shtetl. No one can keep a secret from the neighbours for long.’

  ‘What are we put on this earth for if not to amuse our neighbours?’

  ‘Have you been talking to my aunt?’ Nathan smiled. ‘That’s one of her favourite sayings.’

  ‘Then the shtetl has the same philosophy as Alexandrovka. It’s a foolish person who thinks they can keep their affairs secret from gossips.’ She returned to her desk. Every moment she spent in Nathan’s company only served to reinforce her love for him. She recalled something Yulia had said about not being able to understand why Alexei spent so much time talking to Ruth because Ruth ‘wasn’t pretty’. Ruth wasn’t pretty in the conventional sense, any more than Nathan was handsome. But she was bewitched by his dark, sardonic features, his gentle manner, and the kindness he showed to patients, their families, and the staff. Every time she saw the hint of a smile animating his eyes or lifting the corners of his mouth it sent her pulse racing.

  Nathan was the reason she’d sent Misha away although the doctor had never treated her differently from any of the ward maids …

  ‘… did you hear what I said, Sonya?’

  ‘Sorry, my mind was elsewhere.’ She hoped her thoughts hadn’t been written on her face.

  ‘I said I’d be sorry to lose you. You keep this hospital running smoothly. Not an easy task.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘The shelves are stocked with supplies. The laundry picked up and returned. The place is clean …’

  ‘That’s down to Danil and his wife. They were grateful Mr Hughes gave them work after Danil was injured in the mine.’

  ‘It’s you who ensures that everyone does what they’re supposed to.’

  Sarah came to the door. ‘You’re needed on the ward, Nathan.’

  Nathan reached for his spectacles. ‘Yuri?’

  ‘I think you’re right. His heart is affected by the scarlet fever.’

  Nathan picked up his stethoscope. He laid his hand over Sonya’s when he passed her desk. She looked up and realised he knew she loved him.

  There was something else in his look, but it wasn’t until he’d left the office that she realised. He loved her back.

  Glyn Edwards’ house, Hughesovka,

  Russian Good Friday, April 1871

  ‘The Cossacks are out in force this morning.’ Richard looked through the window at the column of men riding slowly past the gate.

  ‘They on military exercises, Praskovia?’ Glyn asked.

  ‘How should I know, master?’

  ‘Your brother is at their head.’

  ‘He’s a captain, that’s where a captain rides, at the head of his men. Can I get your anything else?’

  ‘No thank you.’ Glyn and Richard chorused.

  Alexei looked at Praskovia but she turned away. He knew the ways of the Cossacks as well as she did. Misha was exercising his men all right; displaying the full might of his company where he wanted to, outside Nathan Kharber’s office window.

  Hughesovka might be John Hughes’s town but Misha Razin was showing the Jews who had the most strength. Not that the Jews needed showing. They fed their families by farming and using their artisan skills. It wasn’t in their nature to fight or even hunt, and he knew of none that owned a gun. If ever a race was born without an aggressive bone in their bodies it was the Jews. Or possibly submission had been beaten into them throughout history by pogroms and attacks.

  The Jews knew who had the upper hand on the steppe. But Alexei was worried. He had a shrewd suspicion his erstwhile friend’s tactic was about more than belittling the Jews. He’d seen the way Sonya looked at Nathan. He also knew from what Vlad had told him that Sonya had sent Misha packing when he’d called on her. Knowing Misha, he suspected the show of force outside the hospital so close to the Christian Easter – a time frequently used by Cossacks to attack the race they called “Christ killers” – had something to do with Sonya sharing an office with Nathan Kharber.

  Was he the only Russian who’d fallen in love outside of his race? Could Hughesovka survive two mixed marriages?

 

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