The Firebird

Anna told her, ‘It will be no different from when I was taking care of Jane, when she was in her lodgings. I will see you all the time.’

It was Dmitri, though, who seemed most wary of her prospects in her new, if temporary, home. He’d been frowning since returning from the task of taking Anna’s trunk by sledge to General Lacy’s house, and now as she was telling him goodbye he frowned more blackly and remarked, ‘You should be careful there. There was a bird perched on their window ledge, an ugly black bird, tapping at the glass. It is not good, to have a bird do such a thing outside your window. Always it means something bad will come. A death, perhaps. An illness. Something bad.’ His eyes held Anna’s so intently she could see the deep concern beneath their darkness as he told her, with more feeling, ‘You be careful in that house.’

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

The general’s house was grander than their own. The dark floors gleamed, and smelt of polish, and although it was yet afternoon the candles in the sconces in the entry hall had all been lit to chase away the wintry shadows, sending bright reflections dancing in the shields of brass behind them, raising sparkles from the cut-glass edges of the mirror on the wall.

The walls themselves were half-tiled in the elegant Dutch fashion that the Tsar had so admired, and Anna felt distinctly plain surrounded by such richness; plainer still when she and the vice admiral were escorted by the servant who’d admitted them into the general’s drawing room, where long, heavy curtains of green draped the elegant windows, and glimmers of silver and porcelain adorned every table, and portraits in gilded wood frames hung serenely by tapestried chairs.

There was no icon hung in the corner, as there would have been in a Russian home, but on the wall nearest Anna a silver-tipped wooden cross bore a carved figure of Christ in pale ivory, his face neither joyful nor suffering. That watching face stirred her memory, and just for a moment she felt as she’d felt all those years ago, when she had stood in the nuns’ parlour on her arrival at Ypres, so uncertain. Afraid.

Then, she’d had Captain Jamieson close by her side. For a moment, she could have imagined him still, and called to mind the talk they’d had about how God preferred to use his pawns above all other pieces when he played at chess with living men. ‘Is that because he sees into their hearts, and sees their braveness?’ she had asked the captain then, in all her innocence, and he had said he hoped so. With the memory of his reassuring hand upon her shoulder, Anna tried to draw herself up bravely now, in the hopes the eyes of Christ upon the crucifix might see within her heart and judge her worthy of this challenge.

When a real hand settled on her shoulder, Anna turned to meet Vice Admiral Gordon’s knowing gaze. He said, ‘You need not do this, if your mind has changed. You’ve but to say the word, and I will take you home again.’

She shook her head. ‘I have not changed my mind.’ And then, because that sounded rather too determined, like a soldier setting out to face the worst, she found a smile that looked half-natural, and said, ‘You need not worry. I am sure I will be happy here.’

A man’s voice added cheerfully, ‘If she is not, I’ll know the reason why, and see it settled.’

General Lacy was a tall man, and his high wig made him duck his head as he came through the doorway from the room beyond, to greet them. ‘A good day to you, Vice Admiral.’

‘General.’

As the men shook hands, Anna was given her first close view of the general. She had seen him in the street, from time to time, but from a distance, and she never had been close enough to notice that his eyes were blue, like Gordon’s, with the same deep creases at their corners, showing that he likely smiled more often than he frowned. He was handsome, though not quite as handsome as Vice Admiral Gordon, to her eyes. His nose was slightly overlong, his eyes a trifle heavy-lidded, but his charming smile and dimple chin would doubtless turn the heads of many women, nonetheless.

And there was something else about him, some rare force of personality that drew the eye and held it. Anna was not certain whether General Lacy had gained this from being in command, or whether it was this unspoken quality that made him such an excellent commander in the first place, for she knew that even Charles, who had small patience with the officers who ordered him about, considered General Lacy the best general in all Russia.

She had heard about his exploits in the recent war with Sweden, how he’d led his men in lightning raids all up and down that country’s coast with devastating thoroughness, relying on the galleys that could row him close to shore and speed him off again before the Swedes could move their troops to stop him.

Vice Admiral Gordon had kept busy in that war as well, and now both men were highly ranked and sitting daily in the Colleges the late Tsar had established for the running of the government – Gordon in the Admiralty, and Lacy in the College of War.

On any other day the men might easily have turned their talk to business, but today the general kept his handshake brief, and turned to Anna. ‘Mistress Jamieson, you honour us indeed. I am so pleased you did decide to come and be companion to my wife and children, for I fear I am myself poor company.’

She doubted that. His eyes betrayed the quickness of his wit, and his good humour came through in the voice that yet retained the accent of his Irish homeland. She curtsied to him when he took her hand, and she addressed him with the proper title for his rank: ‘Your Excellency.’

Lacy smiled. ‘It sounds a bit grand, does it not, for such a one as me? Let’s not have that, within the house. You have my leave to simply call me “General”, as does this man here.’ He gave a nod to Gordon, and then looking Anna up and down more closely asked, ‘And do you never feed her, sir? ’Tis well for her she’s landed in my household, for when Lent is done in two weeks’ time she’ll find our table generous, and she does appear to want a little fattening.’