I’d clearly lost that round. Time to try something else. “Their Greek is very poor too,” I said. “And their Latin only marginally better.”
Papa chuckled. “Lottie, I’m surprised. You aren’t thinking very clearly this morning. You know Dmitri Antonovich would have had to pass both Latin and Greek to get into the university. I’m sure he’s quite capable of teaching those subjects too. Aren’t you trying to improve in those yourself? Perhaps you could sit in on their lessons.” He turned to Dmitri. “Charlotte left school early when my wife was ill.”
“I’d be happy for you to join us,” the young man said to me as a flicker of a smile crossed his face.
I couldn’t swear out loud, though I really wanted to. I hadn’t expected my attempt to get rid of the tutor to be foiled so easily, and I did need help in Latin and Greek. Did I really want to accept it from this person, though?
I tried to picture myself sitting next to him reviewing Latin declensions while he watched me trying to come up with the right answer. He would be too distracting. I couldn’t do it. The word formosus, “finely formed and beautiful,” popped into my head for some reason. I hadn’t even realized I knew that word, but suddenly I could remember all the cases: formosi, formoso, formosum, formoso, formose. Finely formed.
Dmitri Antonovich’s smile disappeared and I noticed beads of perspiration forming on his forehead as he bit his lip. He was clearly in a great deal of pain. He’d never be able to tutor my brothers. They could wear down a healthy man in a few days. I realized I might not have to intervene at all. Dmitri Antonovich would be gone by nightfall.
The housekeeper came into the hall, and when Archer saw her, he made his common noise of disapproval, a sound between a cough and a snort. I knew he didn’t like it when Zarja appeared in front of guests.
Zarja ignored him, as she so often did. “Lottie, there is someone to see you at the kitchen door.” She emphasized the word someone. I knew who she meant. Ivan had arrived with the delivery.
“I’ll be there soon,” I said to her.
I didn’t want my stepfather to ask any questions about who had come to see me, so I decided I’d do what he asked and show Dmitri Antonovich upstairs and then escape to the kitchen.
“This way,” I said.
Dmitri followed me up, though he took each step slowly. I could tell his leg hurt him by the way he grimaced. At the second landing, he stopped, his breath coming in short gasps. “Just a moment, please,” he said. We’d been speaking in Russian, but he switched to English. “I forgot to ask the general which language he prefers I use to teach your brothers,” he added.
Dmitri’s command of English didn’t surprise me, because most educated Russians spoke some, but I was surprised that he’d feel comfortable enough with the language to teach in it. As if he read my mind, he said, “My brother and I had an English nursemaid when we were children, and my parents spoke the language as well.”
“Either Russian or English is fine,” I said. “The older boys’ Russian is very good, and Stepan is fluent in English because he’s been hearing it for years, but his French needs work.” I didn’t tell Dmitri my brothers had tried to fool previous tutors by making up words and claiming they were obscure English ones the tutors should learn.
He nodded, his breath slowing a bit. While we stood there, I felt I should say something about the previous night. “I’m sorry I was so rude to you at the grand duke’s party.” I felt a twinge of embarrassment that I’d actually thought he was interested in me.
“Don’t mention it. I wanted to meet you before I came to the house this morning. I’m sorry I said what I did about the baron. It’s not my business to intrude in strangers’ friendships.”
He said the word friendship with a little too much emphasis, as if implying that the baron and I were more than friends.
I certainly wasn’t going to explain why I’d been talking to the baron. “Let me know when you’re ready to continue.”
He nodded and took the next step. As we moved on, he began to hum under his breath. I thought I recognized the tune, a Russian folk song. “Isn’t that the sleigh song about the galloping horses?” I said.
“What?” he asked, stopping again.
“The song you were humming. It’s a sleigh song, isn’t it? The one that goes ‘Fly, my horses, at the gallop / to my dear, you know the way! / Fly, my horses, fly at the gallop / to my dear one’s house, you know the way.’”
Dmitri’s face turned red. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t realize I was humming. A nurse suggested that in the hospital as a way to forget the pain. I’ve been doing it so much I don’t even think about it. It’s one I used to sing with my family when I was a child.” He looked away from me, twisting the cane in his hand.
“Don’t apologize. It’s a good idea.” I wished I had thought of it. It might help our patients too. “I like that song. We’ve sung it at my stepfather’s dacha.” Or rather, we had sung the song, when my mother was alive.
“Shall we go on?” I asked.
He nodded. By the time we reached the third floor, his face was wet with perspiration. He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped it.
I wished I knew the extent of his injury. It felt wrong to be forcing him to do something that caused him such pain. “I’m sorry,” I said. “My brothers are very … lively. This may not be the best post for you. Please don’t think you have to stay if it’s too difficult. I’m sure my stepfather would understand.”
“I’m fine,” he said through clenched teeth. “I just need another moment.” He took a few breaths. “Perhaps in the meantime you can tell me about your brothers before I meet them. I wasn’t told anything about them except that…” His voice trailed off.
“Let me guess. You were told they were wild and undisciplined.”
He didn’t respond, as if weighing what to say.
“I’m afraid it’s true,” I said. “Now would be a good time to change your mind.”
“I’m not going to change my mind,” he said. “Tell me about them.”
We’d see how long his stubbornness would last once he spent a few hours with my brothers. “Well, there’s Miles, who is seventeen. He’s interested in history and politics and books and is determined to be a writer. He’s quite brilliant but will only work on what he wants.” I didn’t go into detail about Miles’s health. That would be obvious soon enough.
“Then there’s Hap, which is what we call Harold. He’s fifteen. He’s not the best student, because he concentrates on his music and his art. He draws beautifully. And there’s Stepan. He’s eight and obsessed with animals, especially horses, but not much interested in other subjects.”
Dmitri’s face took on a puzzled expression. “Why isn’t Miles going into the Horse Guard if he’s the eldest? I thought General Cherkassky said Stepan had been put down for a place.”
I’d practiced the explanation about us many times. People were always puzzled that Stepan didn’t resemble any of us and that he and the twins didn’t have the red hair of me, Miles, and Hap. “We have a very complicated family,” I said. “Miles, Hap, and I are stepchildren to our stepfather. Our father was an American named Daniel Mason. Stepan is the son of our stepfather and his second wife, so he’s our stepbrother and the actual eldest son of our stepfather. That’s why he’ll go into the Horse Guard instead of Miles. Our mother was Papa’s third wife, and they had two children, my little sisters, or, to be precise, my half sisters, Sophie and Nika. They are five years old.”