The Midwife of St. Petersburg (2 page)

“You are making a spectacle of us both, Karl,” she hissed. “Do as Alex says and go home.”

“I demand a duel, Kronstadt. We shall see which of us is man enough for military honors.”

“Don’t be a fool, Karl,” Alex said.

“You’re a coward. You see, Tatiana? He fears me. He will not duel as a gentleman must when insulted.”

General Viktor Roskov’s bulk appeared in the ballroom entryway. “What is the difficulty?” he called.

“I think this man is an imposter,” Captain Yevgenyev replied distinctly, his eyes on Alex. “He is not a military man of courage and honor, for he will not duel me. He is a coward.”

General Roskov turned sharply. “Captain Yevgenyev, this is despicable and outrageous behavior—”

A servant passed with a tray of wine glasses. Yevgenyev snatched a glass of purple wine and threw it in Alex’s face.

Liquid ran down the collar of Alex’s uniform. He heard Tatiana’s cry and the general’s shocked intake of breath. A murmur of voices gained volume as guests came out on the terrace to see what was happening. Alex’s pristine white jacket was stained as though from a sword thrust.

Remain calm
, he told himself. His fist itched to connect with Karl’s front teeth.
Remember whose house you’re in. A man can bear an insult to safeguard others
. He saw Madame Zofia take her daughter’s arm and pull her behind General Roskov as though fearing a brawl.

Alex calmly removed a white linen napkin from the nearby refreshment table and wiped his face. He folded it neatly and placed it back on the table, aware that all eyes were upon him. Beneath his calm reserve, he could have killed Karl at that moment.

“You see?” Captain Yevgenyev said in a firm voice. “The new
Colonel
Kronstadt is a coward.”

“This is contemptible, Captain Yevgenyev. You’re drunk,” the general said angrily. “Leave my premises at once. You can be assured I will speak to your father first thing in the morning.”

Yevgenyev appeared not to hear the general. “Well, Colonel?”

“I accept your challenge to a duel,” Alex said, “but not here and now. General Roskov speaks well; you are drunk. I will not have your father accuse me before court of taking advantage of an intoxicated man.”

Yevgenyev gritted his teeth. “Name the day and hour.”

“One month from this day at twelve noon in St. Petersburg.”

Yevgenyev’s hard mouth turned into a cruel smile. He picked up another glass of wine from the tray of the astounded servant, toasted Alex with mockery, then tossed it down in a gulp. He set the glass aside, clicked his heels in a short bow, and strode from the terrace.

A murmur of voices followed.

Alex smothered his frustration in silence.

General Roskov walked up to him, his face grave. “Count Yevgenyev is the one at fault. His temperament has been fully passed on to his son. I’m sorry it’s come to this. Karl is an expert dueler. I’ll speak to his father. Maybe we can stop it.”

Alex knew nothing could stop it. “I’d better go up to my room and change.”

General Roskov shook his head with disgust, then went into the ballroom.

As Alex was about to leave the terrace, Tatiana came to his side and put her hand on his arm.

“Oh, Alex, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have invited him. I almost didn’t, but he and his family are in a high social stratum, and both Mother and I agreed we couldn’t ignore him. Oh, good—Mother’s gone to the orchestra leader and asked him to start the music early. A waltz should get everyone’s mind off what happened, at least for a short time.

“Oh, that’s a splendid waltz, isn’t it?” Tatiana continued. “So beautiful. It comes from London. I forget the name of it.” She looked at the stain on Alex’s jacket. “Oh dear, I really can’t expect you to accompany me now, can I? That jacket looks as if you’re wounded—” Her hand went to her mouth, and her dark eyes widened. “Oh, that sounded awful.”

They were alone on the terrace. The night had deepened, and the moon gleamed above the river. Boat lights shone in colors of blue, green, and red all along the waterway.

Alex heard the music, the symphonic sounds meant for love, for grand themes, and for virtue. He looked at Tatiana and considered his emotions. She was beautiful, but her inability to appreciate the shame and depth of what had just occurred turned his heart as cold as the steel pistols he and Karl would aim at each other in St. Petersburg.

Alex lifted Tatiana’s hand from his arm and held it. “I’ll be back down as soon as I’ve changed. Then we can waltz.”

Tatiana smiled, squeezed his hand, and disappeared into the glittering ballroom.

Alex climbed the staircase to his room, his steps heavy with his thoughts.

As the steamer moved up the Volga River, Karena Peshkova decided that Kazan was as exotic as Cousin Tatiana had written. In Karena’s vivid imagination, the river ran like a silvery ribbon, stretching between their big steamer and the western banks. She gazed at rows of colorfully painted ships and houseboats with black hulls and yellow roofs.

With the promise of many entertainments ringing in her ears, Karena and her sister Natalia had left Kiev for a two-week holiday at the Roskov family summer residence in the prosperous port town of Kazan. Tatiana had written that her mother planned a lavish “water ball” aboard a large ship, boasting a thousand colored lanterns and an orchestra. Karena and Natalia had brought their best gowns, dancing slippers, and jewelry, though they feared they would appear simple and plain in comparison to Aunt Zofia and Tatiana, who were accustomed to entertaining nobility. Aunt Zofia even knew the Czarina Alexandra Romanova.

Natalia joined Karena on deck as the steamer neared port. Karena noticed with satisfaction that her sister’s mood had improved since their departure from Kiev.

Natalia was worried about Boris, her young man in Kiev. She had expected to marry him in the coming spring, but the growing certainty of war with Germany had put an end to their dreams. The Peshkov and Gusinsky families would not hear of their daughter and son marrying before Boris went off to the front.

“This will be a delightful interlude,” Karena had told her sister. “For two weeks, we’re going to put aside our personal worries and enjoy ourselves.” For Karena, it was not worries over the coming war, but whether she would again be denied entry to the Imperial College of Medicine and Midwifery at St. Petersburg this September. This was her third try. If she was turned down, it could mean the end of the dream she’d nourished since she was a small girl.

Karena was already over twenty, well past the usual age of marriage, and it would be impossible to hold off the wishes of her family any longer, should she be turned down again.

“The coming war hasn’t dampened Tatiana’s love affair,” Natalia said, obviously comparing their cousin’s situation to her own. “She wishes to become engaged to the dashing Captain Aleksandr Kronstadt before the war begins.”

“That doesn’t mean Aunt Zofia and Uncle Viktor will allow it,” Karena said. She remembered a photograph Tatiana had sent of herself and her beau at a winter’s skating party in St. Petersburg. Kronstadt was one of those rugged Imperial officers who looked dashing in either dress uniform or war-stained battle gear. He was in Kazan, visiting the Roskovs, so Karena and Natalia would be able to meet him.

“Tatiana seems to think her father approves.” Natalia sighed. “Tatiana is always the lucky one. She wears diamonds, owns wardrobes created in
Paris, and no doubt will have her love match with Captain Kronstadt, and his mother will give them a honeymoon in the Crimea.”

Karena wondered if Countess Shashenka would also be in Kazan. She was a friend of Madame Zofia and known as a world traveler. Since Tatiana hadn’t mentioned the countess as a guest, it was likely she was spending the summer and fall at her residence in the Crimea until she returned to St. Petersburg for the Christmas and New Year’s celebrations.

I, too, will be in St. Petersburg to attend Aunt Zofia and Tatiana’s winter entertainments
, Karena thought,
if I’m accepted into the medical college. I should like to attend a skating party and afterward return to Tatiana’s house for refreshments by the fire
.

Natalia shaded her brown eyes with a cupped hand, squinting at the colorful houses that came into view as they neared the dock. June breezes, still chilly, tossed her light brown hair.

She laughed. “Oh look! A chocolate brown house with yellow window shutters and a green roof! I’ll tell Boris those are the colors I want on the guest bungalow in the wheat fields. We’ll live there when we marry, until Papa builds us a bigger house.”

“Uncle Matvey’s coming to stay the summer. If he hears the bungalow’s been painted brown, yellow, and green, he’ll disappoint us and remain in St. Petersburg,” Karena said with a laugh.

“Dear Uncle Matvey. It must be his dull research books that have sobered his mood. He used to be such fun, telling us stories about his childhood in Poland. He seems worried lately. Perhaps it’s the looming war.”

The looming war
. Everything from poor crops to poor health was blamed on the rising war clouds over Europe. Karena’s brother Sergei joked about the tired phrase. When Aunt Marta had a crick in her joints or Papa Josef had to stay up late grading school papers, Sergei would blame on the
looming war
.

As for Uncle Matvey’s dull research books, Karena didn’t agree.

“We ought to know history, Natalia. I’ve volunteered to help Uncle Matvey this summer with his new book.”

“Oh? What’s it about this time?”

“The Jewish Messiah.”

Natalia’s eyes widened. “Does Uncle actually believe a future Messiah is coming?”

“I don’t know. He has a dozen books that he ordered from London and America. He had to go into Finland to pick them up from an associate’s house because he was uneasy about having them sent to his apartment. I’m going to find my research intriguing, if nothing else.”

“He’ll have arrived by the time we get back to Kiev,” Natalia said. “Sergei’s traveling back with him on the train from St. Petersburg.”

“At least Papa will be there to greet them both.”

Karena felt a gust of cool wind, but the sun was bright and hot on her fair skin. That morning, she’d wound her golden hair into braids and coiled them at the back of her neck. Now, as the steamer came into port, she put on her red sun hat, hoping it looked fashionably perky against her common blue traveling skirt and white blouse. She held her hat in place with one hand, irritated with herself for failing to sew on new ribbon ties as she’d intended.

A tugboat chugged down the river, towing a string of black barges, followed by a massive timber raft that looked to be at least five hundred feet long. It carried a cargo of ready-made wooden bungalows with fancy carved gables to be sold in the regions along the lower Volga, which had no forest.

Another massive barge floated by, carrying people—a floating settlement of peasants. The men all wore cherry-red shirts and the women, long blue skirts and dark tuniclike blouses with colorful embroidery. As the steamer slipped past, Karena saw the peasants gathered around a large
campfire built near one end of the raft, drinking hot tea or perhaps coffee.

The steamship was slowly secured to the dock at Kazan. An hour inched by while Karena and Natalia waited on the crowded deck, until at last they were permitted to depart. Karena arranged to have their trunks sent to the Roskov residence, and with only their portmanteaus to carry, she and Natalia descended the gangway. Her footsteps echoed on weathered wooden planks, and Karena heard the ringing of bells, a shrill ship’s whistle, and a cacophony of voices in strange dialects and languages. She smelled stale fish and oil mingled with the scent of the river.

Beyond the riverbank sat a row of wooden shops and loading-houses, all painted bright colors like the houses Natalia had seen earlier. There was a lavender house with a gleaming tin roof, a crimson one with an emerald roof, one sky blue and red, and even an orange house with an olive green roof. One very large building seemed to display every color available on its three stories.

They made their way through the crowded dock toward the horse-drawn taxis and carriages lining the street, awaiting passengers.

“Aunt Zofia and Tatiana should be waiting for us by now,” Natalia said. “I wonder if the ball is tonight or tomorrow?”

“I hope tomorrow. Our gowns will be terribly wrinkled.”

“You forget we have maids here,” Natalia said cheerfully. “They’ll wait on us hand and foot. Even steam the creases out of our clothes. You heard Mother. She’ll never be able to live with us again, we’ll be so spoiled.”

Karena smiled. “Just like Tatiana.”

“Hah! No one could be as spoiled as she.”

“Don’t be an old cat,” Karena scolded lightly. She scanned the carriages. “I don’t see the Roskov coach. Suppose they forgot we were arriving?”

“Tatiana might forget, but not Aunt Zofia. Ah! Here comes the coach now.”

Karena followed her sister’s gaze. Two soldiers on horseback rode ahead of a large, black coach, an
R
on the red- and gold-fringed flag, being pulled by two white horses.