The Brigadier's Daughter (24 page)

‘Of course.' Irena inclined her head.

Sasha departed and walked along the landing and up a flight of stairs, remembering the way from when she had brought Georgia here yesterday afternoon. Was it only yesterday? she mused. So much had happened in such a short space of time, and it all felt quite unreal. Reaching Georgia's bedroom door, Sasha knocked discreetly, but when there was no reply she opened the door and peeked in.

The curtains were drawn and in the gloom she could only make out the vague shape of Georgia asleep in the bed. She hesitated, wondering whether to leave her, but it was mid-morning and the day could not grow old without Georgia being aware of her part in The Plan, and the need for her to stay out of sight. She stopped a passing maid and asked her to bring a breakfast tray of tea and toast. The maid bobbed a curtsy, her eyes wide and greatly impressed by the English lady's perfectly spoken Russian.

Sasha went into the room and opened the curtains, daylight flooding in, but still Georgia did not stir. She crossed to the bed and leaned over her, gently shaking her shoulder and calling her name. With a groan, Georgia shrugged away, and then at Sasha's insistence she rolled onto her back and peered up, her hair a tangled blond mass on the pillow and her face creased as she squinted at Sasha.

‘God, is it morning, already?'

Sasha snorted. ‘It's very well near afternoon!' At the sound of a knock on the door, Sasha retrieved the tea tray from the maid and then firmly closed the door. She set the tray down on the ornate cabinet beside the bed and poured a cup for Georgia,
who now struggled up into a sitting position, ran her fingers through her hair and then yawned.

‘Oh, isn't it lovely here, Sasha? I do like Cousin Irena, she's so beautiful.'

‘Indeed.' Sasha handed her the cup of tea and then sat down on the bed near Georgia's feet, looking at her pensively. ‘How are you feeling?'

‘Well enough.' Georgia sipped from the cup, and then grimaced, turning to the tray to add two teaspoons of sugar. ‘And isn't this house wonderful? I've never been inside a palace before. I think I shall enjoy staying here very much.'

Sasha shrugged. ‘It's only a small one. There are many more palaces in St Petersburg, and much bigger than this.' She watched as Georgia helped herself to a bread roll, spreading it liberally with butter and jam. ‘Georgia…' She hesitated, wondering how best to delicately frame her question. ‘Georgia, when—that is, how far along are you? You know how erratic you can be.'

Georgia shrugged. ‘I have missed at least one of my monthly times.' She brushed crumbs from her nightgown. ‘What time do you think Reid will come to see me today? How did he react when you told him I was here?'

Sasha swallowed, and picked at a loose thread on the hem of her skirt. ‘Well—' she glanced at her sister ‘—the thing is, Georgia, it's not going to be as easy as that. You can't just walk in to Reid's life and suddenly become his wife.'

‘Oh?' Georgia seemed genuinely puzzled. ‘Why not?'

‘Because I am his wife! Or at least everyone in St Petersburg thinks so.'

Georgia nodded. ‘Yes, I see what you mean.' And then she looked at Sasha, with all blind faith. ‘What shall we do?'

Sasha sighed, her voice constrained. ‘Well, if you are to become his wife again it will have to be back in London. Reid and I had planned to sail home next Sunday morning, after the Grand Ball—'

‘Why?'

‘To—to see his Uncle Percy. He's not been well.'

‘Oh.'

‘I thought that you could sail with us. I will speak to Captain Turnbull and arrange for you to have a cabin alongside ours. And once we are underway, we will tell Reid and swap places. When we reach London, you will step off the ship as Mrs Bowen, and no one in London will be any the wiser.'

‘Providing, of course, that we do not bump into anyone from St Petersburg that could tell the difference.'

‘Yes. And providing you stay out of sight between now and when we sail.'

‘What!' Georgia groaned. ‘You mean stay in this house for a whole week? I really wanted to explore!'

‘Not only stay in this house, but stay inside this room. No one must see you.'

‘Oh, Sasha, no!'

‘Yes!'

‘I could wear a veil.' Georgia pouted.

Sasha shook her head and leaned forwards to grab Georgia by both wrists, giving her a little shake. ‘Do you want to sort this mess out or not?' She climbed down off the bed. ‘Believe me, Georgia, I have no more desire to do this than you do, but it's the only way. Papa has written to say I must come home at once, that the marriage will be annulled, and if I do not comply I will not be at all surprised if Papa does not turn up on our doorstep! And then where will we be? No,' she said firmly, ‘you are going to have to do as you are told and not go gadding about. Just for once, don't be selfish and—and think of your child. Do you understand?'

Silently, Georgia nodded. ‘But you will come to see me? You won't leave me here completely alone?'

Sasha went to her then, and hugged her, seeing the forlorn expression on Georgia's face. ‘Of course, dearest, I will be here every day for as long as possible. It's only a week; the time will soon pass.'

Having secured Georgia's promise to remain within her bedchamber, Sasha prepared to leave. She promised to call again soon and to bring Georgia whatever she might need.

‘Now remember—' Sasha stood in the doorway ‘—you are to stay exactly where you are.'

Georgia nodded with a glum expression, and Sasha closed the door. As she turned towards the staircase she caught sight of a flick of lilac satin disappearing behind one-half of the double doors leading to Irena's private apartment and bedchamber. She thought it prudent to impress upon Irena that under no circumstances must Georgia leave her room or be seen by anyone, and followed after Irena. She opened the door, the air fragrant with Irena's exotic scent, but at the sound of low voices Sasha paused on the threshold. She gazed across the richly furnished room to where Irena languished on a sofa, a man perched on its edge and stroking her throat with the back of his hand. Irena had such a look of bliss upon her face, unlike any expression Sasha had ever seen her present to the world before.

Catching sight of Sasha, Irena pushed him to one side and the man instinctively glanced over his shoulder, before turning away and taking great pains to keep his back to her. How odd, thought Sasha, he was a rather rough-looking character, his clothes dark grey and black coarse linen, his lank brown hair unfashionably long and his face, though not ugly, weatherbeaten and tanned. He looked like a farmer, or a railway worker, Sasha mused, but already Irena was at her side, taking her by the elbow and ushering Sasha from the room.

Out in the corridor, with the door closed, Irena murmured, ‘You should not be here, my little one.'

‘Who is that man?' Sasha asked with frank curiosity.

‘Just a friend.' Irena did not elaborate, but steered Sasha away and down the corridor, ‘Your sister is well? She is settled in her room?'

‘Yes, thank you. Please, Irena,' Sasha pleaded earnestly now, ‘please make sure she stays there. We will be leaving in a week's
time to go back to England, but it's absolutely imperative she stays out of sight.'

Irena nodded, with a slow smile. ‘Of course, I will see to it.' Suddenly she leaned forwards and gathered Sasha close to her in an embrace, whispering against her ear, ‘I hold your secret safe, but I must ask you to hold mine, too.'

‘What do you mean?' Sasha was puzzled, and then, as enlightenment dawned, she nodded her head towards the closed double doors of Irena's apartment. ‘Do you mean that man?'

‘Yes.'

Sasha gave a low chuckle. ‘Irena, I can assure you that I am not concerned with your gentlemen friends, nor would I gossip about them.'

‘It is more than that, but promise that you will speak of this to no one?'

Sasha nodded. ‘Of course, I promise.'

Irena kissed her cheek and they bade each other farewell, but Sasha pondered as she walked down the stairs to the hall below. Who was he? Someone else's husband? He looked vaguely familiar, but she thought it best not to pry any further, for curiosity almost certainly killed many a cat. She donned her cloak with Harry's assistance and made her way home.

As she walked, a puzzled frown creased her brow. It was a windy day, storm clouds gathered and she thought they might have some rain before evening. She couldn't stop thinking about the man in Irena's apartment. What was so odd about him that he had stuck in her mind? Was it his dark, shabby clothes? Or…something else? She thought she might have seen him somewhere before and while at first she thought his rough appearance indicated that he was a servant of some sort, she somehow did not think she had ever seen him in that role in Irena's household before.

The wind churned up dust and litter, and it was a scrap of paper blowing across her path that suddenly jolted Sasha's memory. She skipped and hopped as she chased after the leaf-
let, clutching at it in triumph and turning it over to examine the crude head-and-shoulders drawing of the man who was wanted for the attempted assassination of Tsar Alexander II. With a gasp, Sasha stared at the face of the man she had just seen! She broke into a run, eager to get home and speak to Reid at once.

‘Ma'am,' called Harry, breaking into a trot at her side, ‘is everything all right?'

‘Oh, Harry, I don't know, but I have a horrible feeling that it's not!'

 

When they reached the apartment, both gasping for breath from the run, Sasha dashed up the steps and inside, throwing off her cloak and hat as she asked almost hysterically of Good, ‘Is the Major in?'

‘Yes, ma'am, he's in the drawing room with Captain Turnbull.'

Sasha made haste to hurry up the stairs, but then, halfway along, she suddenly stopped, and paused. She realised all at once that she could not possibly say a word about the man she had seen at Irena's, not in front of Captain Turnbull. Why, she was sure that she should not even mention it to Reid. Would he not be honour bound to report it to the authorities? She could not do that to Irena. Whatever her faults, she was still her cousin and reporting that she harboured a suspected revolutionary and assassin would mean almost certain death for her. She had made a promise, to keep Irena's secret, but some promises could not be kept, not when they meant harm to others. Sasha chewed on her lip with a worried frown, and then proceeded more slowly, and quietly. She greeted Reid and Captain Turnbull with a graceful smile, and said nothing about Irena, Georgia or anyone else. No one could have guessed the anxiety she felt, nor the war that was waging inside her head as she wondered whether this was one secret that would prove to be too heavy a burden.

O
n the evening of the ball Sasha held up her skirts with one hand, and placed her other arm through Reid's elbow. He smiled at her as they stepped from their carriage and onto the scarlet carpet lining the Jordan staircase inside the Winter Palace.

‘You look…ravishing,' he murmured close to her ear, his breath warm on her delicate skin.

Sasha smiled in response, delighted that the very expensive gown had achieved its desired effect, but her attention was diverted by the magnificence of their splendid surroundings. The ornate baroque twin staircase swept in marble grandeur up to a landing where three double pairs of grey marble pillars supported a vaulted ceiling encrusted with gilt cornices, voluptuous golden caryatids and frescoes of the gods on Mount Olympus. It all quite took her breath away, yet there was no time to stand and stare as the many guests filed up the carpeted stairs to the state ballroom above. Dutifully she and Reid followed in the wake of Lord and Lady Cronin as they climbed upwards.

In the Nicholas Hall a vast sea of people assembled around the sides of the ballroom, and Sasha caught her breath at the splendid sight. She thought there must be several thousand guests at least! All the men were elegant in black tails and white bow
ties, or dashing in military uniforms. Even the plainest of women seemed beautiful and glamorous in their sweeping gowns in fashionably muted hues of cream, oyster-pink and white, glittering ruby, sapphire and emerald necklaces adorning their throats in dazzling rainbow hues, tiaras twinkling and flashing as only diamonds can. Sasha was one of the few women to wear a brightly coloured gown and she thought she detected a slight frown of disapproval from Lady Cronin, who wore cream satin, but she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin, her pleasure taken from the fact that Reid was delighted with the way she looked.

They were offered glasses of champagne from a passing footman and Sasha sipped hers carefully, aware of the watchful eye of Lady Cronin. Away from the dance floor, in a bronze-and-malachite pavilion, tempting delicacies of caviar and smoked salmon and a vast array of other hors d'oeuvres were served, prior to a sumptuous buffet that would begin at midnight. The guests nibbled whilst talking and the champagne was continuously served while they all awaited the entrance of the Tsar and Tsarina.

Their Imperial Majesties made their appearance at the far end of the ballroom, but Sasha could see little from where she stood. It was not long after their arrival that the dancing began and when Captain Turnbull politely invited her onto the floor she accepted with a gracious smile and nod of her head, while Reid turned to Lady Cronin. They whirled into a mazurka, joining many of the other dancing guests, yet Sasha only had eyes for Reid and longed for the moment when duty was done and they could dance together.

He looked even more handsome than she had ever seen him before, but it was not because of his uniform, which emphasised the broad width of his shoulders, slim hips and blond good looks. It was because she was in love with him, and as they danced, he with Lady Cronin, she with Captain Turnbull, their eyes found each other across the intervening couples, and she could not
look away. Their intimacy had created a bond, for far from not returning to her bed, Reid had made love to her every night for the past week, and she had made love to him every morning as the dawn broke. She could not wait to be in his arms, to dance a waltz with him, knowing that they would be perfectly in tune.

At last, duty done, Reid turned to Sasha and held out his arm. He escorted her onto the dance floor and placed his hand on her waist, his other hand clasping her gloved fingers firmly. They swept away, the music seductive and sensuous. As they whirled and stepped back and forth, they spoke not a word, and yet they were not silent. His eyes spoke as they dwelled on her lips, on her cheeks and ears and neck, and down to the swell of her breasts rising above the low curve of the ruby-red gown. She answered him, her own eyes lingering on his mouth, remembering how his lips had kissed her, how his tongue had caressed the most secret and sensitive parts of her body. She smiled, and felt the heat of him as he pulled her closer, stooping a little so that his jaw rested against the softness of her smooth cheek.

Then Reid whispered close to her ear, ‘Tell me.'

‘What?' she whispered back.

‘The secret that you are keeping from me.'

She stiffened, and shivered a little. ‘How do you know I have a secret?' Her voice was a mere breath against his cheek.

‘I can see it in your eyes. You are always so open and expressive. I know you, Sasha, intimately, and there is something you are guarding. Tell me, sweetheart.'

She sighed, and then relaxed against him. She could not lie to him, not when she loved him so much. ‘I can't tell you, not now.'

‘Why? Is it something that will make me angry?' He was smiling, not at all concerned that it might be anything that was going to rock their world.

‘I don't know. It might.'

‘Have you spent too much money? I notice that you have cashed several of the banker's drafts that you have shown no interest in before. That gown must have cost a fortune.'

‘No, it's nothing to do with money.'

‘Then tell me.' His grip tightened with frustration. ‘I will.'

‘When?'

‘Later.'

‘Tonight?'

‘Yes.'

‘Promise? Promise me we will not go to sleep until you have told me this secret?'

‘I promise.'

‘Good.'

He settled back to enjoy the dance with her, and the evening passed far too quickly for Sasha. The ball was a wonderful occasion, and it was not until the early hours of morning that they returned home. But they did not sleep, for their trunks were packed, ready and waiting in the hall, and they only had to change their clothes before a carriage drove them down to the docks and they boarded HMS
Dorset.

 

They had been shown to a cabin, the same one Reid and Sasha had shared before. As the door had closed, she wondered if Georgia had followed her instructions and was safely ensconced in the cabin next door.

As the tide turned at dawn the crew cast anchor and gently the naval ship slid away from the dock. Sasha went to the porthole and stared at the palaces and buildings of the city as they passed by, silently saying goodbye to a magical city and the most wonderful and magical time of her life that would never be repeated again. She drew off her gloves slowly, aware of Reid behind her, slipping his arm around her waist and nuzzling her neck.

‘Don't forget your promise,' he murmured, his fingers straying to the buttons of her gown. ‘But first, it's dawn, Sasha—have you forgotten to do something?'

She blushed, remembering her passion for making love to him
as the sun broke on the horizon, but now, instead of encouraging his fingers to disrobe her, she pushed him away and took a step towards the door. He turned to face her, his expression serious, and rather stern. He folded his arms over his chest, head to one side.

‘Right, that's enough, Sasha, I want to know what's going on. And don't even try to pretend that there is nothing, because I know there is!'

To his surprise she replied meekly, ‘All right. Just wait there for a moment.'

She opened the door and stepped out, and he gaped after her, wondering what on earth she was about. Was it a surprise of some kind? Or something else, something more worrying? He could hear a cabin door open farther along the corridor, and the low murmur of voices. Female voices. Then he heard footsteps approaching, and Sasha said quietly, as she appeared in the doorway, ‘Close your eyes, Reid. And promise me that, no matter what, you won't shout.'

‘Very well. But there is no need for all this palaver, you know very well that you have me wrapped around your finger and I would not dream of shouting at you, how could I when I—'

‘Now, you can open your eyes.' Sasha ushered Georgia in, and closed the door, tensing as she held her breath and awaited the eruption of Reid's fury, her eyes half squeezing shut.

But there was only silence, and she looked up to see Reid standing there staring with his mouth open, hands on hips.

‘Hello, Major Bowen.' Georgia smiled at him.

‘Uh…' Reid stared at her. ‘Um, hello, Georgia.' His glance went at once from her to Sasha, standing just behind her sister. ‘What…What on earth…are you doing here?'

‘Well, it's rather a long story, and I am feeling very tired—do you mind if I sit down?' Georgia made a move to go past him and take a seat in the tub chair placed in a corner beneath the porthole.

He moved quickly aside to let her pass, raking one hand
through his hair. ‘Er, no.' He glanced again over his shoulder at Sasha, and noticed now that she had made no move to take off her coat and was standing by the door with her travelling case, as though she was about to depart. ‘Sasha? What's going on?'

Sasha swallowed the huge lump that was in her throat, watching Reid and Georgia, so close together in this confined space, watching them as soon other people would be watching them, as a couple, man and wife. Tears began to crowd in her throat, and her voice was watery as she explained, with Georgia adding little bits here and there, and Reid listened in silence as the grand plan to make Georgia Packard truly his wife was unfolded. But at its end, he reacted most unexpectedly, in a way that neither girl had anticipated.

‘No!' He paced about; in the confined space he did not have far to go. ‘God damn it! Are you both mad? What the devil do you think you are playing at? And what do you think I am, some sort of monster, to go from one sister to the other—' he snapped his fingers ‘—just like that!' He stared at them both and then shouted, ‘No, damn it! No, I will not do it!' And with that, in high dudgeon, he wrenched open the cabin door, stepped out, and slammed it behind him.

‘Oh, dear,' murmured Georgia, staring at her lap, and then she glanced accusingly at her sister. ‘You did not mention that he is in love with you.'

Sasha gasped, staring at her, and then she shook her head. ‘No, no, of course he's not, he has never said anything of the kind to me.'

‘He might not have said it, but that's what he feels.' Georgia looked at her sister curiously. ‘Have you… Has he…taken you to bed?'

‘No, of course not!' Sasha blushed hotly, both at the lie and the question. Then she turned and opened the cabin door. ‘I'd better go and find him, talk to him.'

‘Yes, I think you'd better.' Georgia looked at her solemnly, then, just as Sasha was about to leave she called out, ‘Oh, before
I forget—' she rummaged in the pocket of her gown ‘—Irena asked me to give you this.'

With a sigh, Sasha held out her hand and took the note in a sealed envelope that she recognised as being from Irena personally.

‘She was very particular about it. Said I was to give it to no one except you.'

Silently, Sasha took the note and went out of the cabin. She paused in the corridor and tore the thick cream paper open. Penned in Irena's black, bold writing were only three words, undated and unsigned:
We have fled.

Sasha stared at it, but it was more than she could deal with right now. She folded the note carefully and slipped it into her pocket, for a brief moment wondering where Irena had gone to. But right now she had other more important matters to deal with; besides, she was beginning to learn that people like Countess Irena Sletovskaya invariably landed on their feet. Sasha hurried along the corridor, and up the metal rung of steps to the deck above. The horizon was now a golden slash of bright light as the dawn broke in a blaze, splashing its brilliant colours over the city, now receding in the distance against a backdrop of sea and sky. There was only a gentle breeze to fan her hot cheeks, as her feet echoed on the wooden planks, hurrying as she searched for Reid, her heart aching for him, for them both. She found him aft, leaning on the railings with his hands clasped together and staring at the churning white foam of the ship's wake. Seagulls wheeled and screeched, but his attention was not drawn by them.

Her footsteps slowed as she approached him, but he did not look up even when she stopped at his side. She laid one hand gently on his arm. ‘Reid?' Still he was silent, and she pleaded, ‘Please, Reid, talk to me.'

He looked up then. ‘Why?' His eyes were a dark, tormented blue as they bored into her own. ‘What am I except a prize stallion to be shifted between mares?'

‘Don't say that!'

‘Well, it certainly sounds as if you and Georgia have got it all planned down to the last detail, our lives rearranged according to the whims of Georgia Packard.' Suddenly he swung round and grabbed her arms. ‘Tell me, Sasha, tell me truthfully that this is what you want? To swap places with your sister, to let her be my wife?' She hesitated, looking away from him, and he seized on the moment like a triumphant prizefighter. ‘I thought as much. You don't want this any more than I do! It's barbaric! It could never work!'

‘Reid, it has to. Can't you see, this charade cannot go on forever! My papa has written insisting that I return home and the marriage be annulled. I cannot pretend to be Georgia for the rest of my life!'

‘No, of course not! But we could start again. Your father is right, best to get the original marriage annulled and start again. With the right woman.'

‘But we can't! It's too late. People will find out. You'd be disgraced, dismissed from the Army, court-martialled, even.'

‘Nonsense!' But his voice wavered a little; he could not be entirely certain that any of that could be avoided.

‘Please, listen to me,' Sasha pleaded. ‘It's been wonderful, but now it's over. We must go back to the real world.'

‘What? Thanks for the roll in the hay and now let's move on? Sasha, I don't believe you mean that. You're not like that! I don't want Georgia, it's you I want!'