The Firebird

Mr Taylor said, ‘Aye, there is much to be said for tradition.’ And looking in his turn at Anna, his honest face could not hide how he admired the picture she made in her chair by the window, the fabric spilt over her lap and her needle in hand. Then he turned back to Edmund and asked, ‘Shall we play one more hand, sir? I must say, I’d forgot just how much I enjoyed this game.’

Edmund’s mouth curved in a smile that seemed private as he looked down, reaching a hand for the deck of cards. ‘Aye,’ he replied, ‘so did I.’

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Spring came, and with the thawing of the river the whole city came again to life, the merchant ships returning and the open-air exchange on Vasilievsky Island growing once more crowded with the merchants and their goods, and with the men who kept the warehouses and worked about the docks.

Vice Admiral Gordon now divided his own days between the Admiralty and Cronstadt, the small island with its castle and its shipyards near the Tsar’s old house of Monplaisir a half-day’s journey distant down the Neva, where the greater ships were forced to put to anchor when they ventured in towards St Petersburg, and where the warships of the Russian navy often gathered with the galleys before setting out to sea.

From time to time he visited the general’s house to see that Anna was well, and just as often carried a small gift within his pocket as he’d done when she was younger. Last week he had brought her a wrapped piece of palest pink silk, for a lining to the bodice she was piecing at the moment, and two days ago he’d given her a handful of dark hairpins each set with a tiny pearl. ‘It is the fashion of the French, I’m told, to dress their hair with jewels,’ he’d said.

So on this morning, when the shoes arrived by messenger without a note, she knew from whom they’d come. Even the general, when he’d seen her with the package, had deduced, ‘Another gift from the vice admiral?’

Anna had nodded, still struck speechless by the beauty of the shoes. They were of silk brocade in twists of cream and berryred, with silver buckles, pointed toes and heels much higher than she’d ever dared to wear.

‘He is a cruel man,’ General Lacy had remarked, in all good humour, ‘to give such things to a girl who cannot wear them till the mourning has been lifted at year’s end. I dare say by that time you’ll have those worn out just from looking at them.’

Truthfully, she could not take her eyes from those bright shoes. They sat now on the table at her bedside, so whenever her gaze lifted from her sewing she could see them, though she scarce had time to focus with the lively goings-on within her chamber.

Living in a household full of children might have been a trial for some, but Anna loved the near continual activity, with the boys seeming to never stand still, and the girls going past in a flurry of petticoats, all of them laughing and playing and fighting in turn, as a close group of siblings would do. It reminded her of her own first happy years with the brothers and sisters who hadn’t been truly her own, and yet had been. She thought of them all now and then, and she’d minded the promise she’d made to the father who’d raised her to never forget them, but though there was warmth in those memories she rarely felt sadness. She’d let those days go, as the mother who’d raised her had opened her arms and released Anna from them that day with the loving, true words, ‘Ye never were my own to keep.’

Some memories, Anna thought, were like that – only to be held with fondness, never mourned. But still, she liked to hear the children’s voices.

Both the boys were at their lessons for the day, with Father Dominic instructing them, and so the girls had gravitated to where Anna was, with tiny Helen winding thread, and Katie keen to protest while her older sister tried to read a book to her. ‘But I want Mistress Jamieson to read to me.’

‘But Father said I had to practise reading.’

Anna verified this, nodding. ‘It is true, for I was there when he did say it.’

Katie frowned. ‘You read to Mama.’

‘She is Mama’s companion,’ said Hannah-Louise, who was twice Katie’s age. ‘Not our governess.’

Their mother’s cheerful voice within the doorway said, ‘’Tis well you do remember that, my dears, or you’ll have wearied Mistress Jamieson past all reviving, and I do have need of her myself, just now.’

She looked refreshed and happy, from her hour of rest. The child within her had announced its healthiness a week before by quickening, and Mrs Lacy’s sickness had now all but disappeared, replaced by a glad energy.

Replying to the summons, Anna fastened off her stitch and bit the thread and set the gown aside. ‘What would you have me do?’

The older woman smiled. ‘The same thing you are doing there, but sadly, in reverse. I have a gown that I would wear, but my dimensions have increased since last I wore it, as you see. I wonder, could you let the seams out for me?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘I would have asked one of the maids, but your work is more skilled than theirs, and it is one of my favourite gowns, sent as a gift from my sister. I’d not see it ruined.’

Hannah-Louise brightened. ‘Is it the green one, Mama?’

‘Yes, it is.’ Then, on noticing Anna’s confusion, she smiled more broadly and crossed to the window to open it, letting them all hear the still-distant roll of the drumbeats and flourish of trumpets; the indistinct voice of a herald progressing through all the streets with an important announcement. The general’s wife turned round again to Anna. ‘You will soon have your wish, my dear,’ she said, ‘to put off mourning for a short while, for it seems we are to have a royal wedding after all.’