Page 42 of The Unseen (Echoes from the Past #5)
THIRTY-FOUR
London, England
A golden September gave way to a cool, rainy October.
The house was quiet and melancholy. Elena saw no reason to get up early, Tanya liked spending her mornings with Mrs. Stern, learning how to cook, and Valentina usually curled up in a wing chair by the hearth with a book.
Kolya had gone off to school at the end of August, a day that was exciting for him and emotional for the rest of them.
Kolya was well and having a good time, if his letters were to be believed, but their family had grown smaller once again and it was unsettling to find themselves so reduced.
The only thing that brought Valentina any sort of personal satisfaction was writing the articles for the paper.
It was still nothing more than a leaflet, but over the past few weeks, Stanislav had reported several repeat customers.
They claimed to be interested in the Lady’s Paper , as it came to be called, because they were in need of household help or a new tutor for their children, but Valentina heard two women whispering behind her in church, discussing one of the articles she’d written and complimenting the writer on her insight.
She wanted nothing more than to write about current issues, but Stanislav had been shrewd in warning her to take things slow.
Valentina’s first column was about loss, and given that everyone in that church had lost someone either to the war or the Revolution, the article had been well received.
The following week she wrote about the bewilderment of having to start over in a new country, especially with school-aged children who, like Kolya, had to adjust quicker than the rest of the family if they were to keep up with their studies.
Written from a female perspective, the article spoke to many women in the congregation, and by the following week, sales had increased almost twofold.
It would be some time before Valentina received any compensation for her efforts, but she suddenly had a voice, and that was compensation enough.
At the end of October, the Kalinins marked the one-year anniversary of Ivan’s and Alexei’s deaths with a small supper and hours spent reminiscing about the men they’d loved.
It was just the three of them, since Cousin Dmitri had gone up north for a few days and returned grumpy and sick on the first of November.
He sneezed incessantly and took to his bed for two days.
On the third day, when Valentina brought him a cup of tea, he dabbed at his nose and gave her a watery smile.
“Valya, I wonder if I might impose on you to do me a favor. An associate of mine, a Mr. Timothy Mayhew, will be in London today. I promised I’d spend an evening with him, but I’m really not fit for company.
Would you mind terribly joining him for an evening at the theater?
He’ll take you out to supper afterward. He’s a charming man. ”
Valentina inwardly cringed. She had no desire to spend an evening with a total stranger, and without a chaperone.
She also worried about her English. It was good enough to communicate, but to carry on a conversation all evening was a daunting prospect.
But Cousin Dmitri looked so forlorn, she could hardly refuse. “Of course. I’d be happy to.”
“Oh, thank you. You’re a lifesaver. Make sure to wear something pretty,” he added as he slid back down onto the pillows. “And ask Mrs. Stern to make some chicken soup. With dumplings.”
“I will. Feel better.”
Mr. Mayhew proved to be a charming companion.
He was in his late thirties, or possibly even forty, with wavy dark hair and light blue eyes that glowed with good humor.
He wore a neatly trimmed moustache and a short beard that was oddly becoming.
After a few uncomfortable minutes, Valentina forgot all about her accent and began to enjoy herself.
First, they saw a performance in Covent Garden, and then Mr. Mayhew took her to an out-of-the- way little restaurant that was both intimate and charming.
He told her about his life in Yorkshire and regaled her with amusing anecdotes about Dmitri.
“How did you two meet?” Valentina asked.
“Through a mutual friend, who is sadly no longer with us.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
Mr. Mayhew inclined his head. “We live in unpredictable times. Dmitri told me something of your plight. You were very brave, Miss Kalinina. Very brave indeed.”
“There’s no valor in running away.”
“There you are wrong. It’s very brave to know when it’s time to cut your losses and retreat. Many lives would be saved if more people were wise enough to admit to a lost cause.”
“I suppose.”
“But we’re getting too maudlin, aren’t we? Let’s talk about something amusing. What do you like to do when there isn’t a war on? Do you enjoy dancing, opera, shopping?”
“I like to read.”
“As do I. What are you reading at the moment?”
“ The Woman in White . It’s slow going.”
“One of my favorites. Don’t give up. The ending is well worth it. Are you finding it dull?”
“Not at all, but I’m struggling with the language.”
“I think you’re doing very well, and your accent is charming. I find it utterly enchanting.”
Valentina blushed, and Mr. Mayhew instantly drew back in his seat and assumed the air of a man having tea with his mother. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I only wished to reassure you that your efforts at studying English are paying off with dividends.”
“Thank you.”
Valentina glanced at the clock on the far wall. It was nearly midnight, and she was tired. She rarely stayed out this late. “Perhaps it’s time we were going, Mr. Mayhew.”
“Of course. Let me get the check.”
Mr. Mayhew paid and they left the restaurant. “I’ll get you a cab.”
Valentina allowed herself to be handed into a cab.
She was wary of getting into a motorcar with a complete stranger, but Mr. Mayhew thought it perfectly safe, so she stopped fretting and settled into the back seat.
She was glad he wasn’t coming with her. To sit so close to him in such an intimate setting wouldn’t be proper.
“I didn’t mean to keep you out so late. It’s just that I was having such a nice time. Perhaps we can see each other again someday,” Mr. Mayhew said before closing the door and allowing her to be on her way.
“I’ll look forward to it,” Valentina replied, glad he hadn’t tried to make any definite plans.
Mr. Mayhew tapped his hand on the roof, alerting the cabbie that he could start driving.
Valentina subconsciously fondled her necklace.
It had been a pleasant evening, and she felt awfully grown-up going to the theater and dining with a man who wasn’t a relative.
This had been a new experience, and she hadn’t found it to be as intimidating as she’d imagined, but the thought of seeing Timothy Mayhew again held little appeal. Once was more than enough.