The Midwife of St. Petersburg (9 page)

“General Viktor wishes our marriage. He’s told his daughter that if she doesn’t agree to marry me, the Roskov wealth—which, as you probably know, is considerable—will not be left to her discretion. It will be dribbled out in small annual amounts that she considers the wages of the poor. So you see, the marriage is an arranged affair for both of us. She’s no more in love with me than I am with her.”

“Tatiana
is
in love with you. She’s green with jealousy whenever you look at another woman.”

“It’s jealousy over a fortune she fears could slip through her fingers.”

“I think all of this is dreadful—”

“You know as well as I that arranged marriages are as old as the Bible.”

“Arranged marriages are common, but it’s not something I wish for
my
future—” She stopped abruptly as Ilya came to mind. Ilya Jilinsky, the young man her father wished her to marry. He’d already mentioned a possible arrangement before Ilya might join the army, should war come.

His brow arched. “You were saying?”

“I do not wish to speak of it. And I don’t know why you are saying all this to me.”

“Fibbing, Miss Peshkova, doesn’t become one so idealistic. Perhaps I wanted to confess in order to shock you. To make you turn your back on me and walk away.”

The music stopped. She stood looking at him, angry, hurt, and yes, disenchanted. From the glimmer of something aching in his own gaze, she believed he spoke the truth. He was deliberately driving a wedge between them.

“If you walk away now, I won’t need to reconsider my plans … If you decide not to, then you would make it difficult for me.”

Of all the temerity!
“Colonel, there is no need for you to worry. I think you’re the most awful and arrogant officer I’ve ever met.”

He bowed gravely.

She turned on her heel and walked away, looking straight ahead. She blinked hard.

He didn’t love Tatiana, yet he would marry her if the union furthered the one thing he cared about: his military career.

And I had thought him so dashing, so honorable. The most handsome man I’ve ever met. This ends all my silly notions about romance. I hope I never see him again. Two weeks I shall be here. I must find ways to avoid the scoundrel
.

Alex watched as she walked away with shoulders back and head high. Understanding the loss he’d just sustained in exchange for his career, he
clenched his jaw. He’d made a deliberate choice tonight. He’d gotten what he wanted—at least, he told himself he had.

Forget her. Your path is laid out in the direction you need to go
.

True, finding himself in the Okhrana was a setback, but the general had assured him the change would be temporary. In a year or so, he would be promoted again, to the czar’s personal bodyguard.

She thinks you’re a man who mocks love and honors the steel of sword and gun. Now she won’t tempt you to throw it all away
.

Alex was turning to leave the ball when he spotted the ensign who served as his messenger in St. Petersburg. The young man stood in the archway, holding an envelope.

Alex left the ballroom and joined him in the hall.

“For General Roskov from Major-General Durnov, sir.”

Alex looked at the envelope. Durnov was not in St. Petersburg but in Kiev. Why would that be?

He released the ensign to sample the food and drink. “Don’t stray far. I may need to send a reply to Durnov.”

“Just so, Colonel. Thank you, sir.

Alex located General Roskov in the library, enjoying the reprieve of his leather-bound books.

“From Major-General Durnov, sir,” Alex said, handing him the envelope.

The general took the letter to his desk, opened it, and read.

Now what?
Alex thought. He had a premonition that his status at Kazan would be affected.

The general stroked his honey red mustache. He frowned. A few moments later, he looked at Alex.

“This is unpleasant and rather personal, Alex. Durnov informs me of an arrest at the local college near Kiev where my wife’s brother Josef Peshkov teaches history. His colleague, Professor Chertkov, was arrested for spreading revolutionary ideas to his students. Chertkov claims he’s innocent.
The local gendarmes found books by Hegel, Kant, Marx, and Engels in his desk. Also a dozen of Lenin’s Bolshevik newspapers.”

“So many books stashed in his desk strikes me as overdone, sir.”

“Yes … I don’t like this. Sergei highly regarded Professor Chertkov. And both my nieces took his classes at the college. They’ll be upset over the news.” He rubbed his forehead. “This arrest will not go over well with the students and instructors. The local chief of the gendarmes, a man named Grinevich, expects the worst. It seems a Bolshevik meeting turned ugly a year ago, and the group moved to St. Andrew’s Church. When Grinevich arrived, shooting erupted. The Bolshies broke windows and set a room ablaze. Grinevich falsely blamed the Bolshevik Jews. He ordered a brutal retaliation, and by the time the truth came out, a woman and child had been killed and a rabbi beaten.”

“Was Grinevich ever called to answer for his rash action, sir?”

General Roskov looked at him, surprised. “Of course not. It was a mistake. The point is, he’s afraid the same violence might break out again and wants soldiers to back up his police.”

The general pushed Durnov’s letter aside and sat down on the edge of the desk. He removed a cigarette from a silver box and stared at it thoughtfully.

Alex took a box of matches from his shirt pocket and dutifully lit the general’s cigarette.

“Durnov has requested that I send you to aid his investigation. You will be reporting to him. Unfortunately, Alex”—he inhaled deeply and then scowled—“Count Yevgenyev is over Durnov.”

“I’m fully aware, sir.”

“I haven’t written Count Yevgenyev about the reckless behavior of his son. I think it best I speak with the count directly, after I return to St. Petersburg. Don’t expect much from Durnov with the count overseeing his work. He’ll be looking out for his own neck.”

“I understand, General.”

“As soon as I can, I’ll get you transferred back to the Okhrana.”

“I was hoping for a return to the Imperial Cavalry, sir.”

“You’ll be needed here. In the meantime, Durnov expects Captain Gusinsky and his half dozen to arrive with you. You are to collect information on Chertkov and go to St. Petersburg. This matter in Kiev won’t supersede the Duma’s concerns about Rasputin. The secret police will have their plans in place by September or October. After watching Rasputin tonight,” he said, displeasure hardening his face, “it’s clear his influence must end.”

He stood and clasped Alex’s shoulder affectionately. “I’ll be joining you in St. Petersburg in the fall. Zofia and Tatiana will be anxious to return since your time with us has come to an end.”

“Tatiana will be disappointed, but I’ll see that she understands.”

Alex left the general’s study, troubled. He found himself becoming more entrenched in work he neither wanted nor approved of. The cords that he’d first visualized as a means to advancement and freedom were threatening to become chains of iron.

He went upstairs to his room to inform Konni he would be leaving at dawn.

Part Two
 

The harvest is past
,
The summer is ended
,
And we are not saved!

J
EREMIAH 8:20

August 1914, Kiev

T
he August moon ascended above the vast Peshkov fields of ripened wheat like a mammoth globe of shimmering gold. Across the sky, trails of fiery red, deepening into copper, drifted over the distant steppes. Karena, flanked by Sergei and Ilya Jilinsky, walked along the dusty wagon road between the fields awarded to the family more than two generations earlier by the grandfather of Czar Nicholas II.

The warm, scented winds stirred, bringing the fragrance of rich vegetation, baked earth, and a copious harvest. Dust stirred up around Karena’s high-button shoes, and she worried about soiling her lace-hemmed, red and white skirt. She wanted to look intelligent and professional when she met Dr. Lenski’s son Petrov and his sister Ivanna at the Bolshevik meeting that evening.

“You worry too much, Ilya,” Sergei continued. “Nothing will go wrong. The meeting will be safe. No one even knows Lenski’s here.”

Ilya’s brows, made fair by the long, hot summer in the fields, formed a straight furrow above the bridge of his nose. He shoved his sun-browned
hands deeper into his trouser pockets, a behavior Karena knew indicated he was not convinced.

Sergei, with dark hair and eyes, was, on the other hand, typically smiling, though his demeanor was often hard and joyless.

“The Okhrana knows everything,” Ilya said a moment later, his quiet voice loud with insinuation. “The secret police have been prowling about ever since Professor Chertkov was arrested two months ago.”

“Of course they know,” Sergei snapped. “The czar’s secret police have infiltrated all the socialist groups. But Lenski’s smart. Smart enough not to trust anyone outside his immediate friends, which includes me,” he boasted, striking his thumb against his chest.

When Sergei returned home this summer after his second year at St. Petersburg University, he’d made new friends who venerated Lenin, Trotsky, and Stalin. She knew Papa Josef was worried about his increasing zeal, but Sergei made light of his father’s fears, throwing his strong arms around him and laughing, telling him not to worry. Karena set her mouth grimly, her thoughts straying to Colonel Kronstadt and his interest in Sergei’s activities. She’d not seen him since he suddenly departed the Roskov summerhouse the night of the ball. Afterward, Tatiana had explained his absence had something to do with a mission near Kiev. When Karena and Natalia returned home after their two-week visit, Alex had already left for his new position in St. Petersburg at the Winter Palace.

“I’ve heard the czar’s soldiers are passing through on their way to Poland,” Ilya said. “If there’s any trouble with Lenski, they’ll be on us like hawks. Karena, it’s too much of a risk. Don’t go.”

“Ivanna Lenski will be there. I simply must meet her,” she insisted. Ilya’s protective spirit was beginning to trouble her. She didn’t want him to care so much. She had plans for the future, and they did not yet include marriage, although Grandmother Jilinsky hoped they would marry soon, as did Papa Josef.

On the issue of medical school, there’d been no correspondence from Fyodor about delivering her letter to his father. She was beginning to think he’d forgotten. She was, however, anticipating an answer to the letter she’d sent Dr. Lenski. Perhaps it would come tonight through Ivanna. Oddly, Madame Yeva had, in the past, tried to dissuade Karena from contacting her old friend.

Karena frowned as she walked, her thoughts straying from their discussion to her mother’s behavior. Perhaps it could be attributed to the shock she’d received when Natalia tearfully confessed that she had taken the jeweled pendant. Mother had nearly become ill over it.

I can’t let her know I’ve already written Dr. Lenski. And what of Sergei’s relationship with her daughter?

Sergei was romancing Ivanna, whom he’d met while attending the university, but he was keeping her a secret.

So much is wrong in this family
, Karena thought unhappily.
So many secrets
.

Sergei cast Ilya a glower of impatience. “Do you think I’d bring my own sister if I thought there was danger? I tell you, Ilya, not even the secret police know Lenski’s returned to Russia. They think he’s in Geneva with Lenin. He disguises himself. How do you think Lenin and Trotsky pass in and out of the country?”

Sergei was apt to be right. He had told her earlier that Lenski had served two years in the mines in the Ural Mountains. The revolutionary groups that formed the various socialist and communist movements in Imperial Russia had caused havoc throughout the summer, and Karena had heard of several assassination attempts on czarist officials. Lenski had to know his presence would not be well received.