Miles never explained any of his thoughts to that extent. It was as if he was making excuses. He never made excuses. This wasn’t the brother I knew. “Go,” he said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you.”
As I went out in the hall and closed the door behind me, I heard Stepan. “Dmitri Antonovich, tell us the truth. How close are the German troops to Petrograd?”
I almost went back in to hear Dmitri’s answer, though I didn’t know if he’d actually tell the truth. In a way I hoped that if the news was bad, he would lie. I didn’t know how Stepan had gotten it in his head that we could be overrun by the German army at any moment. No matter how often Miles went over the map with him to show him that the front line was hundreds of miles away, Stepan couldn’t be convinced. He’d been a worried child even before the war, prone to nightmares, which had gotten more frequent the longer the fighting dragged on.
I hated that he had to grow up worrying about war. He’d never forget it. None of us would, of course, except maybe the twins if the war ended soon. My stomach clenched as the anger rose in me, the anger I felt each time I thought of the war. It wasn’t fair, any of it, and it was all caused because some powerful men couldn’t be satisfied with what they had. They always had to grab more. The worst of it was that we were powerless to do anything but try to keep going until the war ended.
I hurried to my room, shut the door, and then went to the window. The man was still there, though he was stomping his feet and moving around like he was cold and wanted to leave. Ivan would have to be careful, but I knew he’d agree with me—we weren’t going to let an Okhrana spy get the better of us. The hospital would keep going, at least. I would make sure of that.
I got the rubles to pay Ivan and put them in a small envelope. I knew the butler thought Ivan and I had some sort of scandalous flirtation going on, and I wanted to encourage that presumption, so I put some of my mother’s perfume on the envelope to make it seem like a love note. Since it bulged with the rubles, I’d have to hold it so Archer wouldn’t get a look at how thick it was. Even the totally infatuated wouldn’t write that many pages.
Before I left the room, I picked up the book of poetry. It was a volume by Pushkin. I didn’t remember Raisa ever being particularly interested in poetry, but I supposed she could have turned to it as a distraction from not being allowed her music. I set it back down and headed to the kitchen, wondering if I’d completely misread Miles’s lack of interest in Raisa.
I heard Archer complaining as I came down the stairs to the lower level.
“Those hooligans will bring down more and more bad luck on us! Three of the red-haired troublemakers! One would be bad enough. And not even the general’s own children! He should have sent them back to America after that woman died.” Archer never referred to my mother except as that woman.
I’d heard all of it before. Many times Archer said such things right in front of us, muttering loudly enough to himself that we could hear it. There was no way to stop it. Miles, Hap, and I talked about telling our stepfather, but we knew Papa depended on Archer, so we’d decided just to put up with it. Archer had come to Russia years ago with Papa’s first wife, who was also English, and he’d stayed after she died, becoming a fixture in the house.
The housekeeper, as always, tried to defend us. “Mr. Archer! You stop right now! They are good children, just high-spirited, and the general would be lost without them.”
“It’s all right, Zarja,” I said as I came around the corner. “You don’t need to stand up for us. I know my brothers are a bit trying.”
Archer sniffed. “More than a bit trying. They are a bad influence on Stepan. They’re sure to end up in jail someday. Did you know they have been collecting materials to make fireworks? Monsieur Girard informed me, and I took the liberty of confiscating their supplies. Mr. Miles had the audacity to claim it was for a science experiment. They could have burned down the entire house!”
“If it’s too much for you, you can always retire, Mr. Archer,” Zarja said. “I’m sure the general would give you a generous pension, and then you can go back to England.”
He sniffed again. “Someone has to stay and protect this house.”
I didn’t want to be drawn in to their ongoing bickering. I headed to the back door, waving the envelope so that the scent of it filled the air around me. As I opened the door, I heard Archer mutter, “Just like her mother. Always running after men, even peasants!”
He’s just a sad old man, he’s just a sad old man, I chanted to myself, determined not to snap at him. It wouldn’t do any good, and if he saw me get angry, it would give him a reason to feel superior. I did allow myself to slam the door behind me, but it didn’t make me feel much better.
The snow had stopped, but it was still very cold. Ivan was waiting in his sleigh. “Little sister, you should have on a hat,” he called as I walked across the courtyard.
“I know,” I said, already feeling the chill on the top of my head. Ivan was bundled up in a long sheepskin coat and a fur hat, bits of ice in his beard. He was Yermak’s younger cousin, though they looked enough alike that Ivan could be mistaken for Yermak’s son. Before the war, Ivan had had the reputation of being the fastest woodcutter in the neighborhood around the dacha, but after he was conscripted and sent to the front, he lost an arm and was sent home. He could still cut an amazing amount of wood, though no one bothered to have competitions any longer. There weren’t enough men left, and the women cut the wood they needed, not caring about proving who was the best.
His sleigh appeared to be piled full of wood. I knew that only half of it was wood, stacked onto crates full of food.
“Any problems this trip?” I asked as I handed him the envelope.
“Not for me, though others have run into trouble. Things are getting worse. Too many soldiers have deserted and they are hungry. They’ll stop a sleigh full of food and take what they want.”
“Don’t come if it’s too dangerous. Olga and the little ones need you.” I felt I had to say it, but once the words were out of my mouth, I tried to keep a flutter of panic down. I didn’t know what we’d do without the food. There were such long lines at the shops, and we couldn’t buy enough in any one place for all the patients.
He grinned and pounded his fist on his chest. “I’d like to see them try to stop me.”
“Be careful when you leave,” I said. “There is someone in front of the house who may be watching us, but I don’t think he saw you since you came through the back. When you come next time, keep an eye out.”
“A dirty spy watching the general’s house! I’d like to get a hold of that swine and teach him some respect!” Ivan squeezed his fist together like he was crushing something in his hand.
“I’ve heard things may be back to normal before long,” I said, repeating what I heard from Papa almost every day.
“Ah, if only it were so. I hear that too, but I also hear some people claim they can get milk from chickens,” Ivan said. “We shall see. The land captains are getting more and more demanding that we prove we don’t have any food to turn over to them. No one is happy with that.” His face turned serious. “I hope I can keep coming to town, but you should make other plans in case I can’t.” He slapped his leg. “Enough serious talk. We’ll have faith things will improve. And how are the little girls?” he asked. “Olga says she is counting the days until you come in the summer. She can’t wait to see them.”