Page 14 of The Unseen (Echoes from the Past #5)

ELEVEN

Petrograd, Russia

The news came just after lunch, in the form of Petr, the coachman, who told his wife the cook, who in turn told Nyanushka, who came running down the corridor, as fast as her arthritic knees would allow, in search of her employer.

Her wails could be heard throughout the house, high-pitched and mournful, and all the more frightening because Anna Sergeevna Portnaya was not a woman who gave vent to her emotions, especially in front of her betters.

It had been only a week since what was now being called the February Revolution had rocked Petrograd.

The rebels were in charge of the city, and a provisional government had been established to preside over the country during this uncertain time.

No one was quite sure what would happen next, but Ivan Kalinin fervently believed the situation would be resolved as soon as His Imperial Majesty got wind of it and send in troops to quash the rebellion.

Ivan had little information to go on, as the newspapers were instructed what to print by the insurgents, and members of the family hadn’t left the house for fear of being harassed in the street by the rebels.

Valya and Tanya were in the music room, practicing their duet on the pianoforte, when they heard the commotion.

“Dear God, what now?” Tanya cried as her hands dropped away from the instrument.

“Let’s go find out.”

“Perhaps we should stay here and allow Papa to deal with it,” Tanya suggested .

“You can stay here. I’m going. I refuse to live in ignorance,” Valya countered and hurried toward the door.

The screams grew louder as Valya approached the library, where her father liked to spend an hour or two after luncheon.

He read the paper, smoked his pipe, and occasionally took a well-deserved nap, safely away from the constant prattling of his wife.

Kolya was allowed to join his papa for a game of chess now and again, but the girls never went into the library while their father was there, having been taught to respect his need for solitude.

Living in a household consisting primarily of women wasn’t easy for any man, particularly Ivan Kalinin, who was intelligent and decisive, and couldn’t abide being argued with, something he had to deal with on a daily basis as a husband and a father of two teenaged daughters.

“Papa, what’s happened?” Valentina cried as she erupted into the library. Nyanushka was sitting in Papa’s chair, her apron pressed to her streaming eyes as Ivan tried to cajole her into accepting a snifter of cognac.

“Come now, Anna Sergeevna. You must calm down, for the sake of the children.”

She just shook her head, wailing even louder. Elena walked into the library, her hand held to her breast, her face the color of fresh snow. She’d been resting in her room after lunch, as was her custom.

“Vanya, what’s happened?” she cried, her eyes huge with fear.

Tanya came up behind Valentina, unable to keep away from the drama playing out in the library. She reached out and took Valya’s hand. Their father was pale, his eyes wide with a look of shock and uncertainty, and his movements unusually clumsy.

“It is being said that His Imperial Highness, Tsar Nikolai II, has abdicated the throne on behalf of himself and his son,” Ivan Kalinin announced.

“Get the smelling salts,” he cried as Elena went down in a heap on the parquet floor.

“Lenochka, darling, can you hear me?” he pleaded with his wife.

He lifted her into his arms and carried her into the next room, where he set her down on a satin settee. “Elena,” he called to her. “Elena.”

Elena’s eyelids began to flutter as she woke up, but she instantly blanched and cried out in alarm, recalling what her husband had said just before she fainted. “What’s happening? What will become of us, Vanya? How could the Tsar abandon us this way?”

“I’m sure he felt he had no choice, darling.”

“How can you say that? He’s the Tsar of all the Russians, not some middling bureaucrat. Of course he had a choice.”

“Elena, I will go out and try to discover all I can, but you must believe that all will be well.”

“How can anything ever be well again? Who will rule this country?”

“I expect the provisional government will continue to govern, as they have done for the past week. I’ll know more once I’ve spoken to?—”

“No!” Elena bellowed. “You are not to go out there. Do you hear me? If it’s indeed true that the Tsar has abdicated, then the news will be in tomorrow’s paper.

That’s not the sort of information those cretins would wish to suppress.

And if it isn’t true, we’ll find out soon enough, hopefully once the Imperial Army sweeps in and slaughters those traitors once and for all.

I won’t have you out there on your own, braving the streets when they’re overrun with those…

those…” Elena gave up as words failed her.

“All right. I won’t go anywhere. I will remain right here where you can keep an eye on me,” Ivan answered softly to pacify his near-hysterical wife. “You are right. Tomorrow’s papers will carry the story. This is the sort of news the rebels will want to crow about from every rooftop. ”

“We’ll have to cancel the party. And on such short notice. That’s terrible manners, Ivan. What will everyone think?” Elena moaned.

“Elena, this is not the time to concern yourself with parties, and no one will think ill of us. I wager most of our friends are too frightened to go out, much less attend parties. The important thing is that we are all well. The banks are still operating, the provisional government is maintaining control, and the streets are relatively safe. That’s all we can ask for at the moment.

We’ll find out more in due course. Now, everyone, please return to what you were doing. ”

Valentina and Tanya shuffled back to the music room, their spirits in tatters. “I’m sorry about your birthday, Valya.”

“So am I. I was really looking forward to the party, and the announcement of the engagement. Telling everyone makes it more real somehow, more tangible.”

“It is real. You need never doubt that.”

“I know. It’s just that this was supposed to be such a happy occasion. I’ve dreamed of it for months, imagining exactly how it would happen.”

Valentina sighed and allowed herself to momentarily revisit the fantasy.

In her mind she could see the dining room, lit with countless candles.

The oil lamps were reserved for everyday use, but it would be candles for the party, long and white, glowing in the crystal chandelier suspended above the table and from the silver candelabras positioned around the room.

The table would be covered with her mother’s best damask tablecloth and decorated with a gorgeous centerpiece contrived of flowers and vines.

The footmen would bring out one dish after another, tempting the guests with delicious food and keeping their glasses full with champagne.

A music quartet would play discreetly in the background during the meal, setting the mood, but not distracting the guests from their conversations .

The crystal and silver would glow in the candlelight and ladies’ jewels would glitter and sparkle, making even the plainest of women appear beautiful.

Everyone would be talking and laughing, and having a wonderful time.

Papa, ever the showman, would wait until dessert was ready to be brought out before getting to his feet, raising his champagne flute, and tapping his knife against the crystal until everyone was silent and paying attention.

And then, he would announce Valentina and Alexei’s engagement and all the guests would cheer them and chant “Gorko.” Valentina had always liked that particular custom.

It was reserved mostly for weddings, but the betrothed couple would be allowed one kiss.

She wasn’t sure how the tradition had begun, but it was customary for the guests to cry out ‘Bitter, bitter’ and encourage the couple to kiss and make it sweet.

“I suppose we’ll be eating well for the next week. Mama ordered smoked sturgeon, beluga caviar, pheasant, and other delicacies for the supper. She won’t allow them to go to waste. You love blini with caviar,” Tanya said in an effort to lift Valentina’s spirits.

“The way I feel right now, I don’t think I’ll ever be hungry again. My stomach is in knots. The Tsar is the head of the Imperial Army. If he has abdicated, then what becomes of the regiments stationed in Petrograd? They’re outnumbered and without proper command.”

“If they are without command, then there’s no one to order them to fight against the rebels,” Tanya pointed out wisely.

“Yes, that’s true, but they still have their immediate commanding officers who might decide to act on their own. Imagine how celebrated they would be if they managed to put down the rebellion from within.”

“That would be rather heroic.”

“Heroic and suicidal.”

“Come, Valya, let’s practice our duet. It will take our minds off things,” Tanya suggested and took her seat at the piano, but Valentina eschewed the piano and curled up in a high-backed armchair instead.

The chair was upholstered in butter yellow and the sunny color normally lifted her spirits, but not today.

Until last week, the most dramatic thing to ever happen to Valentina had been the death of their puppy, Dimok.

They’d named him “Smoky” because of his fur, which was the bluish-gray color of chimney smoke rising into a winter sky.

He’d been less than one year old when he’d foolishly run beneath the wheels of a carriage while the family strolled through the Summer Garden last spring.

Kolya had been holding his leash but let go when Dimok suddenly bolted, having spotted something that interested him.

Kolya had been inconsolable for weeks and refused the offer of a new puppy as a way of punishing himself for his negligence.

And now they were in the midst of a revolution that seemed to be happening right on their doorstep. Valentina wondered if the people in other large cities, such as Moscow, were affected by the revolt. They must be if the Tsar had abdicated. This revolution must be affecting the entire country.

Valentina wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her forehead on her knees.

She couldn’t quite grasp the implications of the situation.

What did it all really mean? What would happen to the royal family?

Who would take the Tsar’s place? Who’d be in charge?

And what would happen to everything the royal family owned: their palaces, carriages, jewels, and automobiles?

What would become of the aristocracy without a tsar? What would become of her?

This should have been the most exciting time of her life.

She was newly engaged, about to begin planning her wedding and her future with the man she’d loved since she was a little girl, but instead she had to worry about matters of state, and the war that raged somewhere out there, beyond the scope of her imagination, a war that had caused such discontent among the common people that it had finally tipped them over the edge of reason.

Would the troops be recalled from the front or would they go on fighting?

It was all too confusing to even contemplate .

Valentina abandoned her refuge and returned to her room.

She rummaged under her pillow until she extracted a folded piece of paper, the note hastily written in graphite.

It had been delivered four days ago by a young boy who had stood awkwardly before her, hand outstretched, until she gave him a few kopeks for his trouble.

Valentina had breathed a sigh of relief when she recognized Alexei’s handwriting, and she’d retreated to her room to read the note in peace.

Dearest Valya,

I’m all right. Please don’t worry about me. Stay indoors and well away from the windows. I’ll come by as soon as I’m able.

Love,

Alexei (your future husband)

Valentina refolded the note and pressed it to her lips. Alyosha was all right, and that was all that mattered at this moment. As long as they’d be together in the future, they’d survive anything that life had to throw at them.