The Amber Keeper (30 page)

He rang first thing the next morning, a call Abbie felt obliged to take rather than risk her brother discovering the reason he was
calling
.

‘I seem to be apologising yet again,’ he began. ‘I didn’t mean to take advantage of your vulnerability. I can see that I went about things the wrong way last night, made a real mess of it, in fact. But I want you to know my feelings for you are genuine, Abbie, that if you aren’t interested in a partnership you only have to say so and I’ll entirely respect your decision. But I would like to see you again.’

Eduard arrived at just that moment, and as squeals of joy broke out from her daughter, Abbie put down the phone without responding. Her trust in men was at an all-time low, so she really didn’t feel inclined to accept his apology, not this time.

‘I made a complete fool of myself by responding to his advances so easily,’ she admitted to her grandmother later as they sat in the conservatory for one of their regular heart-to-hearts. Eduard had taken Aimée out for the day and she was feeling at a particularly low ebb. ‘I made myself look like a naïve idiot.’

‘Don’t be so hard on yourself, my darling. It sounds like a very reasonable offer to me.’

‘What, because he softened me with a kiss beforehand? Very businesslike, I don’t think!’ Much as Abbie struggled not to dwell upon his kisses, she was finding it hard not to remember the
delicious
sensation of being held in his arms.

‘Do you like him?’ Millie asked, a soft teasing light in her eyes as she seemed to sense the melting emotion within her
granddaughter
.

‘That’s quite beside the point. I intend to focus my mind entirely upon building my own business.’

‘Not all men are like Eduard. Don’t let one bad apple spoil the entire barrel for you. You’re a sensible, mature woman now, not a giddy teenager, so why not talk to him as such, and find out what a partnership would actually involve?’

For a brief moment Abbie was sorely tempted. It was true that he’d shown himself to be a man of wit and humour, always kind and helpful. Or maybe that, too, had all been part of his campaign? ‘I don’t think so. He deliberately played on my feelings in order to win me round, almost a seduction, which in my inebriated state at the time made me an easy target.’ Abbie felt ashamed of herself for allowing it to happen.

‘Or maybe he simply couldn’t resist you, my darling, lovely as you are.’

Abbie laughed out loud at such a ridiculous notion. ‘I’m a single parent with responsibilities and a shameful past. Sorry, but I don’t trust him and intend to steer well clear of Andrew Baxter.’

Oh, but it wasn’t easy. In the days following, sometimes she could hear him chatting to Linda while she was busy in the workshop decorating boxes with a mosaic of amber pieces. Abbie had made it very clear to her assistant that she had no wish to see him. No doubt Linda assumed this was because of the threat his shop presented, unaware there was much more to it than that. He never did intrude upon her privacy, and a part of her was almost sorry that he didn’t, although whether she’d rail at him or fall into his arms, Abbie couldn’t quite decide.

A few days later Linda brought her a note, which she put on the desk without a word. Only by the sad expression in her eyes did Abbie realise who it was from. She opened it with trepidation.

‘
Linda tells me you’re very busy so I won’t disturb you, but this is just to let you know that I’m on my way back to Scotland as I need to see my wife. Maybe we can talk later. I’ll give you a call
.’

Oh, how many times she’d heard those words:
I need to see my wife
. Abbie felt sick inside, surprisingly close to tears for someone who’d convinced herself that she didn’t care a hoot about Andrew Baxter. And she most certainly didn’t trust him. Why would she, when he’d tried to get his greedy hands on her business by pretending to fancy her? Did men never tell the truth? Oh, and why did she always find herself falling for those who claimed to be divorced, and actually weren’t? Putting her head in her hands, she let the tears fall at last.

TWENTY-EIGHT

T
hat winter of 1917‒1918 was depressingly cold, and life became increasingly difficult with each passing day. None of us had any notion how we were to get through the coming months. Many banks were closed, withdrawals blocked and estates seized. We’d still had no word from the Count, which was a daily concern, although the Countess was more worried about Serge, her precious son.

Struggling to cope in the flat without them, and without the help of Gusev, Anton, Mrs Grempel and the other servants, was immensely difficult. Even more important, we were constantly
hungry
. One of us would go out every morning to try to buy food at a local shop, generally with little success. More often than not the answer was, ‘We have not yet received permission to sell.’ We never asked from whom permission was required, as it was all too plain that the Bolsheviks were now entirely in control.

A maid came home one day in great excitement claiming she’d bought a bag of coffee on the market. But when she opened it, it turned out to be a heap of musty grain and not coffee at all, not even fit to eat as it was alive with mites. Our disappointment was keen, our hunger all the more intense.

Providing the Countess with enough to eat was our chief
priority
, otherwise she would fall into one of her famous tantrums. Fish soup featured most often on our menu, much to her
dismay
, and one night we had just two small spicy balls of
cabbage
each.
Nyanushki
and I made sure that Irina was fed as well as
possible
.
Babushka
, who was old and infirm, largely confined to her bed, was also given priority. Whatever was left, often very little, was shared equally between us servants. Secretly I made sure that
Stefan
received a little extra, being a man with a larger appetite and the one most engaged in physical labour. Not that he noticed or appeared to appreciate anything I did for him, largely ignoring me completely.

How I missed those drives in the cart, the way we used to talk all the time, and joke and laugh together. Why couldn’t he appreciate that I’d broken my promise to the Countess and told him the honest truth? What more could I say or do to convince him of my innocence?

‘The problem seems to be that the railway system isn’t working properly,’ he told us one night as we sat with the maids and
Nyanushki
in the kitchen, chewing on a few tough crusts of dry bread dipped into the remains of a fish stew. ‘The tracks are blocked or damaged as a result of large quantities of troops and supplies being moved to the battlefront, so the transporting of food has
virtually ceased.’

‘Then how will the Count manage to return to Petrograd if the trains aren’t running?’ I asked, a bad mistake judging by the tight expression that came over his face.

‘I dare say he’ll just have to wait a bit longer to see you, as you will him.’

‘Oh, Stefan, not that again. How can I convince you that this baby is not mine? Or the Count’s?’ I was nursing her on my lap as we ate, and when she smiled up at me my heart contracted with love. How could it not? She was beautiful and vulnerable, the sweetest, most adorable baby in the world.

‘Never, when you look at her like that.’

‘Which is entirely unfair. I care for Irina and Serge too, but this little one has no one in the world to love her but me.’

‘And who do
you
love?’ he snapped. Thrusting back his chair, he strode rapidly away before I had the chance to respond.

‘Oh dear,’
Nyanushki
softly murmured. ‘It is not going to be easy to convince him.’

‘What can I do?’ I cried, feeling tears block my throat.

‘Be patient. Men have their pride. But he’ll come round in the end.’

I kissed Katya’s fluff of dark hair and sighed. ‘How long will that take, I wonder?’ Maybe a lifetime.

One night as I was feeding the baby, Vera now having returned to her family, and little Katya almost weaned and content with a
bottle
, I heard the sound of a window being smashed. Greatly alarmed, I quickly tucked her back into her crib, grabbed my dressing gown and went in search of Stefan, my heart racing. Ever since the troubles had begun we’d all lived in a state of high anxiety, and even though Stefan and I were barely speaking, as he was the only male in the house apart from a couple of young lads who did the rough work, who else could I turn to? Fortunately, he’d heard the noise too, and we met in the servants’ corridor. Stefan instantly pressed a finger to his lips, urging me to be silent, then handed me a piece of wood from the log basket.

‘That’s just in case you need to protect yourself,’ he whispered, and with a jerk of his head indicated I should follow him.

We crept slowly down the stairs that led to the kitchen area, where we could see the soft light of a candle burning. Keeping close behind him as he moved stealthily into the kitchen, I raised the big stick in my hand in readiness to batter someone on the head if necessary.

‘There’s no one here,’ he said, looking about in surprise.

‘Then who lit the candle?’

‘Someone could have left it as a marker for when they return.’

‘Which means they are elsewhere in the flat. Katya!’ I cried.

‘Irina,’ Stefan said at the same moment, and as we turned to run we exchanged a quick glance of shared fear. It was then we heard the scream.

Coming face to face with the two thieves, although we could barely see more than the outline of two figures in the dark, neither of us hesitated to set about them with our sticks. Stefan resorted to punching with his fists when his weapon was wrenched from his hand, and when my stick broke I used my feet to kick the fellow in the shins. It gave me enormous satisfaction to see him squirming on the floor and hear his cries of pain. Still fearful for Irina and little Katya, I set off at a run for the nursery. I’d gone no more than a few yards when I was hit in the back and knocked to the floor, completely winded. Within seconds the man jerked me over and was on top of me, his hands tugging at my nightgown, ripping it open at the neck. I let out a scream, quickly stifled as he clamped one hand over my mouth, half smothering me, the weight of him so overpowering that I had little hope of freeing myself.

What would have happened next is beyond question, despite my furious struggles. Fortunately I was saved, as he was dragged off me. Then Stefan was helping me back to my feet, his arms holding me tight. ‘It’s all right. You’re safe now, thank God,’ he murmured against my ear. I leaned into him, feeling the solid warmth of his beloved body, inhaling the familiar masculine scent of him that I loved so much. Our closeness was electrifying and as he moved his head to study my face I knew he was about to kiss me. How I needed that kiss, even if this wasn’t exactly the right time for such intimacy.

Perhaps also realising that this wasn’t the moment he quickly ended it, a half-smile of shame on his face. ‘We’ll talk later. We mustn’t let him get away.’ And as Stefan turned to give pursuit, I quickly grabbed my broken stick and followed him.

We did our best, chasing the robbers the length of the vast dark corridors and down the stairs but the two escaped, leaving a trail of goods behind in their wake. Even so, we grinned at each other, pleased with our efforts, and for the first time since we’d returned to Petrograd and he’d learned about the baby, our connection felt as strong as ever.

‘You were very brave.’

‘Thank you for saving me.’ I silently hoped that he might kiss me again, but he mumbled something about checking on the Countess and hurried off in the direction of her bedroom, leaving me to clear up the debris. Even so, my heart was singing.

Arms laden with stolen goods, I found the Countess storming about her room in a rage, the worst I had seen in a long while, only this time directing her anger at Stefan. ‘Why weren’t you here to protect me?’ She paused to jab a finger in his chest. ‘Someone has taken every item from my jewellery box. My pearls and several other trinkets are missing. I heard a noise and came out to my boudoir, thinking it must be you. Instead I found those pieces of scum helping themselves to my precious possessions.
Why were you not here
?’

She carried on shouting at Stefan while I read far more into her questions than a simple quizzing on his ability to protect her. The Countess seemed to be implying she’d been expecting him. Could that be true? I stared at Stefan but all he said was, ‘I’ll see what else they’ve taken,’ and dashed off, joined by the two young boys and the maids who’d been woken rather late by the racket.

I went at once to the safe and sighed with relief to find it still locked. ‘At least your amber and most important pieces are still safe milady.’ But sifting through the items we’d saved, mainly sheets and blankets, oddly enough, I found nothing of any value. ‘No sign of any pearls here, unfortunately. Perhaps there was a third party outside, and these two dropped stuff out to them through the window.’

‘It’s all Stefan’s fault. He promised to protect me.’

‘That’s not quite fair. You can hardly expect him to be everywhere, or to sleep at your door like a guard dog just in case a robber should come.’

Her lips twisted into a slight smile. ‘Actually, I had quite another place in mind for him to sleep.’

I felt my cheeks start to burn, an ache in my throat as I strived to hold my emotions in check. This was not the moment to take issue with her on the way she had stolen my man, or the lies she had told him about Katya. Perhaps there never would be a good time. Could it be that they hadn’t actually been lovers before, but that in retaliation for my perceived betrayal Stefan had now allowed himself to be persuaded? It really didn’t bear thinking about. But hadn’t he just protected and kissed me as if his love was as strong as ever? So why would I take the Countess’s word and not his? But he had been anxious to get back to her, hadn’t he? How confusing it all was.

‘I must go to the children, milady, and make sure they are safe.’

‘Send Stefan to me at once,’ she cried, flinging herself down on the bed, bursting into yet another flood of tears.

Ignoring her hysterics for once, I did no such thing. Stefan was waiting for me on the landing, and I walked straight into his arms.

‘I want you to know that I’ve never slept with her, never touched her, not since the day she assaulted me with that kiss. You must believe me, Millie.’

‘I do, my love, I do.’

‘Thank heaven for that.’ He nestled me close on a sigh of relief.

Settling my head against the steady beat of his heart, I admitted to having suffered the occasional doubts. ‘Those will soon be banished when the Countess reveals her true nature with some other trick or lie. She is the one not to be trusted.’

Fresh love surged through me as we kissed, the soft pink of dawn bathing us in a misty haze of passion. When, some moments later, we broke apart, I said, ‘The question I have to ask is, do
you
believe in
me
?’

His voice now sounded somewhat sheepish and filled with guilt. ‘I think I knew all along you weren’t the baby’s mother. But I was so eaten up with jealousy, so afraid that it might be true you’d had an affair with the Count, that I wouldn’t let myself believe in your innocence.’

‘And now?’

‘If we can’t trust each other, who can we trust?’

Smilingly resisting further kisses, I said goodnight and hurried to check on Irina and Katya, who were fast asleep, bless them.
Taking
them both into bed with me, I snuggled down beside them. What a joy children were, and how sweet was true love.