The Amber Keeper (31 page)

The next morning we discovered that the robbers, whoever they might be, had taken other items besides the Countess’s pearls, including a good many of her clothes, a few porcelain vases and pictures, plus most of the food from the larder. I went straight to the militia to lodge a complaint. Although it was barely nine-thirty in the morning, there was a whole queue of people waiting with complaints of a similar nature, not least a priest coming to report the theft of chalices and sacred vessels from a local church.

The guards who were supposedly meant to protect the area were sitting in an office playing cards. I stood, hands on hips, looking down at them in disgust. ‘Looting seems to be taking place all over the city, judging by the queue of people waiting to report a robbery, so what are you doing about it?’

They looked up at me in surprise. ‘Are you accusing us of being negligent in some way?’

If the cap fits
, I thought, remembering the remark my mother would often make when scolding Dad for some perceived failure on his part. A shaft of homesickness struck me in that moment. Oh, how I missed my beloved parents. Why wasn’t I packing and going home like many of my friends from the British and American
chapel
, making my escape from the oncoming danger facing us all? The answer was plain. Stefan! How could I leave, loving him as I did?

Perhaps it was the return of Stefan’s trust in me that caused me to be so reckless, but my prattling tongue ran out of control yet again. ‘I’m sure there are better ways to spend your time than playing poker, or whatever it is.’

One of the men rose slowly to his feet, his manner seriously threatening. ‘Perhaps you’d like to take your complaint to court, miss? Or maybe
we
should court-martial
you
for speaking so rudely to us.’

Turning on my heel, I hurried away, heart pounding with fear, realising I’d overstepped a dangerous line. One I would need to take better care to avoid in future.

The Count returned in early December, much to everyone’s delight ‒ save for the Countess, of course. She swept her son into her arms, ignoring her husband completely. What he had to tell us was not reassuring.

‘The estate is no longer under my control. Serge and I were turned out of our own home by the local committee, obliged to live in one of the small cottages on the estate.’

‘Why did you allow that to happen?’ the Countess demanded, clearly shocked by such treatment. ‘Couldn’t you simply refuse to leave?’

‘Not when a Bolshevik is pointing a gun at my son’s head, no.’

She turned ashen at this, pressing Serge close to her breast, and we all fell silent as the reality of the situation was finally driven home.

‘It is anarchy rather than democracy, I’m afraid. We soon ran out of food as, despite the cellar back at the house being well stocked with potatoes, and the granary full of flour, we had to bribe the peasants for the merest portion of it for our own use. They are cutting down trees for fuel; the soil lies untilled, crops have not been planted, cattle have been stolen or slaughtered to provide village feasts. The estate is in chaos.’

The Count went on to explain how many of his Romanov relatives were now under house arrest, or had likewise been deprived of their property or other possessions, their servants turned out to fend for themselves. ‘A few have escaped or successfully hidden themselves away, while others have been forced to sell what little they have left to buy food, or are starving and close to death.’

‘And what of the Tsar?’ asked
Babushka
from her seat in the corner where she sat wrapped in blankets to keep warm.

‘No one knows where the Tsar and his family are. Nicholas’s first cousin, George V, offered sanctuary, but the idea was opposed by the British people and government, so what will happen next is anyone’s guess. I’m afraid the Tsar’s enemies will make life as difficult as possible for him.’

‘We can only pray he will be safe,’ the old lady said, and many voices echoed in unison of that wish.

The Count approached me just as I was shepherding the children to bed. ‘May I have a quick word with you, Millie, when you have a moment?’

It was not an order, simply a request, but it wasn’t difficult to guess the topic that was on his mind. I nodded, saying nothing, and as soon as the children were settled,
Nyanushki
offered to read them a story while I went to the Count’s study and tapped on the door.

‘Ah, Millie, please take a chair. I know you are busy so I won’t take up too much of your time.’

‘My time is yours milord. I was sorry to hear about the problems on the estate.’

‘It makes for a very sad picture, not least because of the dead horses everywhere.’

‘Dead horses? Why?’ I asked, appalled.

‘Hundreds of army horses have been brought back in an exhausted condition but there is no hay or straw to feed them on. So they die.’

‘Oh, that’s dreadful!’

‘People too are dying, Millie. You must never forget that.’

‘I beg your pardon, sir. I didn’t mean to sound uncaring. It’s just that I have a soft heart where animals are concerned.’

‘We all do,’ he conceded. ‘But if you imagine we are in difficulties now, I fear it could get a great deal worse. Where the food will come from next year if no crops are planted I dread to think.
However
, that is not why I asked to speak to you.’ His gaze
softened
. ‘Is there something you need to tell me, Millie?’

The kindness of his smile was meant to encourage me to open my soul and confess to giving birth to an illegitimate child. Had that been true, then I’m quite sure he would have forgiven me and my job would have been safe. But I was innocent of the charge and, despite promising to keep the Countess’s secret, I had no intention of telling lies on her behalf. Nor had I any wish to seek revenge for her maliciously turning Stefan against me, but I surely had the right to hold on to my dignity and reputation. Stiffening my spine I looked him straight in the eye. ‘If you are referring to the baby, I’m afraid I can say nothing, not without permission.’

He was silent for several long seconds, reading the defiance in my gaze, hearing what I wasn’t saying, perhaps guessing the truth from my silence. ‘I presume you sought permission, and it was not granted.’

‘That is correct, sir.’

He nodded and rose to his feet. ‘Thank you, Millie. You may go.’

I turned to leave, but then hesitated. ‘Milord, I trust you have no objection to my continuing to care for this baby?’ Realising I was in danger of saying more than I should, I began again. ‘I mean, is it all right for me to keep her?’

He smiled. ‘If you are asking if I will insist upon you having it adopted, I assure you that won’t happen. A child is in no way responsible for what its parents do. You will make a good mother, whatever the circumstances, and I certainly have no objection to you keeping her, Millie, if that is what you wish. She is fortunate to have you.’

Back in the nursery, I kissed little Katya’s head as she slept. ‘You are quite safe, my darling,’ I said. But at the back of my mind a small voice murmured,
Unless the Countess changes her mind and reclaims you, which she is quite capable of doing simply out of revenge since Stefan has rejected her for me
.

TWENTY-NINE

I
t was a sad, drab Christmas that year as we all felt great trepidation and fear for the future, not only for the Tsar and his family, but for ourselves. Everyday life became increasingly difficult. We were constantly hungry, and the flat was bitterly cold as fuel too was in short supply. Sometimes we had electricity and sometimes we didn’t. What little wood we did have was needed for Anton to cook on when the electricity was off, as it too often was.

A sense of defeat and depression hung over us all. The Count and Countess rarely exchanged a civil word, and while Mrs
Grempel
, Anton and Gusev loyally struggled on, if silently begrudging the extra work involved, many of the other servants left. The natural instinct in these precarious times was to go home to be with family and close friends. I asked myself a thousand times a day why I didn’t do the same. The reasons I stayed were naturally all tied up with my feelings for Stefan, although also affected by an increasing fondness for baby Katya.

The Countess instructed Mrs Grempel to call in at a local agency and find replacement staff, which she dutifully did, despite knowing none would be found. Working for the aristocracy was no longer considered appropriate. In the end her young niece was engaged to help in the kitchen, and the chauffeur, Viktor Lytkin, brought in his brother Ivan to act as footman.

‘Standards are slipping,’ the Countess bitterly complained. ‘We cannot be expected to manage with such a small number of
servants
. It’s quite ridiculous.’

‘I would take care not to broadcast those views too widely, if I were you,’ her husband warned. ‘I doubt the Bolsheviks would approve, and may well deprive us of the few we have left.’

‘Obviously, you would think it best to keep silent and give in to their demands, since you are a coward.’

‘I am a reasonable man who wishes to survive this revolution. What is so wrong in that?’

It was a huge relief to escape the tense atmosphere at the flat on occasion and visit Ruth and Ivy and my other friends at the
British
and American chapel. We all contributed bread, cake or a few biscuits whenever we could spare it, although bread was rationed at 50 grams a day, assuming you could find any in the shops.
Nyanushki
would take over the care of Katya for a few hours, with even
Babushka
happy to jiggle the baby on her lap, as they both believed I deserved a little break now and then. Serge and Irina were old enough to amuse themselves.

‘I never knew what it felt like to be really hungry until now,’ Ruth complained. She was beginning to look hollow-eyed and much thinner, very like the women who’d taken part in the demonstration back in February.

‘What I wouldn’t give for a hot dinner of roast beef and
Yorkshire
pudding,’ Ivy said, licking her lips.

‘Ooh yes, and jam roly-poly to follow,’ I agreed.

‘But it’s nearly Christmas,’ Ruth reminded us. ‘So I would choose goose with chestnut stuffing, plum pudding and brandy sauce.’

‘And mince pies with cream,’ Ivy said.

‘Stop it, please ‒ you’re making my mouth water and my tummy ache even more. Anyone want a hard biscuit?’

We all pulled a face but nobody refused to take one. Grab what food you could was very much the order of the day.

‘So what about this baby you’ve supposedly had while you were in the Crimea?’ Ivy asked, never shy of coming straight to the point.

Heaving a sigh, I desperately struggled to find the right answer. It wasn’t my friends’ fault, after all, that I was in this situation, and it was only natural that it should incite gossip. I decided to keep as close to the truth as I dare. Giving a little laugh, I said, ‘You should never listen to rumour. As a matter of fact, I haven’t had a baby. I’m looking after one for ‒ well, as a favour to someone.’

‘Ah, anyone we know?’

‘I’m really not in a position to say.’

‘Hm. So why you? Does this mother not have anyone else to care for her child?’

‘She asked me, and I agreed to help.’

Ruth said, ‘That was very brave of you, considering how gossip is bound to put the very worst connotation on it. You disappear for months on end then return wheeling a baby in a pram, who no one else in the Belinsky household is prepared to lay claim to. Folk are bound to make assumptions.’

‘I can say nothing more.’

‘Not even to defend your own reputation?’ Ivy asked. ‘Is this person too poor to keep the child, or too rich and important to acknowledge an unplanned daughter?’

These questions were getting dangerously close to the truth, so I laughingly replied, ‘Ivy, you have a very fertile imagination. Why don’t you write the story and we’ll read it?’

This brought laughter all round and fortunately the conversation moved on to other topics, but my two friends continued to cast me curious glances throughout the afternoon. It seemed that all my worst fears were coming true. Would I lose my friends now, as I had very nearly lost the man I loved?

Days later, as we were about to sit down to afternoon tea, Countess Olga received the dreadful news that her lover had been arrested and killed. ‘They took all his money and property and when he objected they shot him,’ she sobbed. ‘Poor darling Dimitri is dead!’

‘You have my sincere sympathies,’ the Count responded with commendable patience, considering it was his wife’s ex-lover whose death she was supposedly grieving.

‘Why would such a terrible thing happen?’ She began to pace back and forth, wringing her hands in distress, although from her expression I suspected she was far more concerned over her own safety than the loss of her erstwhile lover. Her next words proved my guess to be entirely correct. ‘Are you even certain it’s safe for us to remain in Petrograd?’

‘We can only hope so,’ the Count said, his face sombre.

‘You
hope
so? Don’t you know?’

‘None of us do. These are uncertain times.’

‘We should all return at once to the country,’ she protested.

‘Where would be the point when things are equally difficult there? And there’s no room for servants in that small cottage.’

She stamped her foot in fury, as a child might in a tantrum. ‘
Why couldn’t you have been killed instead of my darling Dimitri
?’

‘You might be in even greater difficulties if I had been.’

I concentrated on setting out the cups and saucers, trying not to listen.

‘It was Dimitri I loved. I don’t need
you
!’

‘You need my money.’

‘Which you are too mean to properly share,’ she snapped.

The Count laughed. ‘I do have a nasty habit of giving it to those most needy rather than the most greedy, don’t I? But I’m surprised you still care about Korniloff, considering how he abandoned you when he discovered there was to be no divorce with a high settlement. You’ll have to find yourself some other rich lover, instead of one who just happens to be handy,’ he coldly remarked.

‘Meaning what?’

‘Wasn’t that the new footman, Lytkin, I saw entering your room the other evening?’

Her cheeks flushed bright crimson, although whether with rage or embarrassment is hard to say. ‘He was bringing me a cup of hot chocolate.’

‘Why would you need one? I wonder. Isn’t he capable of keeping you warm enough in bed?’

For once she was lost for words, and sweeping the tea cups and even the precious cake stand from the table, she stormed out the room.

Heaving a sigh, the Count gave a pragmatic shrug. ‘How very fortunate that Mrs Grempel had not yet brought in the tea pot, and that the children haven’t arrived. Perhaps you would help me pick everything up, Millie, since we really cannot afford to waste a crumb.’ And we did just that, saying not a word about the Countess’s latest fit of temper.

Sadly for me, as
Nyanushki
arrived with the children, Stefan too appeared at the door of the drawing room. The Count and I were down on our knees on the rug. Maybe Stefan couldn’t quite see that we were actually picking up broken cups and bits of cake from under the tea table, for he took one look at us huddled together on the floor and quickly left, slamming the door behind him. Setting the cake stand back in place, I was overcome with worry that just when I thought all was well again between us, the situation had
suddenly
taken a turn for the worse.

I hurried after him to explain but he was nowhere around. As so often in the past, Stefan had done one of his disappearing tricks and we saw little of him over the next few days. And despite
Christmas
being over I was kept fully occupied caring for the children in
difficult
circumstances.

As the final days of December slipped by the Countess surprised us by announcing that she intended to hold a ball to celebrate New Year. ‘I have decided we need cheering up. If we don’t have enough food to feed people we can at least provide music and dancing.’

It was the most marvellous decision I’d ever heard her make. Even the Count looked pleased.

‘Could she possibly be coming to terms with reality at last?’ I asked of
Nyanushki
.

‘We can only hope so.’

We set about making plans with eager anticipation. Finding the necessary supplies to feed all the guests she intended to invite would certainly not be easy, and vodka had disappeared from the shelves some years ago at the start of the war. But Mrs Grempel declared herself up for the challenge, and the Count assured us that he still had several bottles of champagne in the wine cellar. The few remaining servants would also be allowed to watch the dancing as reward for their loyalty. Even the children could stay up and take part in the fun. Excitement was high. And Stefan had returned.

It was a beautiful, snowy winter’s night, the glitter of moonlight reflecting upon the icy river. We felt grateful that for once the electricity was working and lights blazed from every window, although we had candles at the ready since it could go off at any time. A knot of pain gathered in my throat as I watched Stefan set out the candelabra on the dining room tables. He looked so handsome, so smart and neat in his footman’s uniform, his chestnut hair slicked down instead of sprouting in all directions as it usually did, particularly when he was out and about in the country. He picked up an empty log basket and went out to fill it from the much-depleted wood store in the inner courtyard.

At the same moment I spotted the Countess hovering at the end of the servants’ corridor. What on earth was she doing there? Then I saw she was talking to Lytkin, the new footman. As I stood watching them walk away together I shook my head in disbelief. So this was the cause of her change of mood? The Count’s suspicions had been correct. She’d come out of her sulks and tantrums because she’d acquired a new lover from among the servants. Goodness, first the chauffeur, now his brother. The woman was utterly insatiable, and none of the men she set out to seduce ever refused her, whatever rank or class they were. While I couldn’t seem to hold on to the one man I loved.

Remembering
Nyanushki’s
advice that I should fight for
Stefan
, on impulse I followed him out into the courtyard. Hearing my footsteps he looked up, his face pale in the moonlight. I longed to cup my hands about his cold cheeks and press my lips to his. Losing courage, I wrapped my arms about myself to make sure they didn’t misbehave.

‘You shouldn’t be outside without a coat,’ he scolded.

‘I wanted to talk to you.’

‘I think everything that needs saying between us has already been said, don’t you?’

‘No, I don’t. I understand why you’re confused because of what you imagine you saw, but . . .’

‘I’m no fool, Millie. That wasn’t the only time. I’ve seen you coming out of the Count’s study on more than one occasion.’

‘It isn’t what you think.’

He turned away. ‘Not now, Millie. Can’t you see I’m busy? The guests will be arriving at any minute.’

Undeterred, I took a step forward, blocking his path so that he couldn’t escape without pushing me to one side. I smelled pine on his clothes, saw the tiredness on his face and guessed he wasn’t sleeping well, any more than I was. Standing close to him like this I couldn’t help but remember the way he used to hold me safe in his arms, his body warm and filled with passion as it pressed against mine. I missed his kisses and those loving moments. But fearing yet another rejection, I didn’t dare to touch him.