Anna had only just finished her lunch of broth and buttered bread when Zofia came fluttering into the room. “Oh, cousin, it’s so good to find you awake! We thought you meant to sleep your life away. Our prayers must have turned the tide.” Bending over, she kissed Anna lightly on the cheek. “How do you feel, darling?”
“A little better.”
“You certainly appear very much improved.”
“Really? I’ve no way of telling.”
“What?” Zofia then caught Anna’s meaning. “Oh, the mirror?” Her voice was unsteady only a moment before the lie came. “Well, you see, I’m having a new gown measured, and I needed the tall mirror. I’ll see that it is returned soon.”
Anna let the subject drop.
“Mother will be coming up to see you shortly.”
Anna nodded.
Zofia drew up a chair and sat at the bedside. It was an awkward moment and neither spoke. Anna had not yet sorted out her feelings for her cousin.
The reason for Zofia’s hesitation soon became apparent.
“When the rain stops, Father will be going out to the pond to search for evidence.” Zofia reached for her cousin’s hand. The usual luminous sparkle of her black eyes had been snuffed out. “I don’t know what he expects to discover. But whatever he finds or doesn’t find, he will then go to the magistrate.”
“The magistrate?”
“Yes, dear. When you have recovered a bit more, you must answer some questions and sign a paper.”
“What paper?”
“A writ of accusation.”
Anna only stared.
“Against Stelnicki, of course.” Zofia’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, Anna who would have thought it?”
“But, I don’t remember—”
“It was Stelnicki who… who did this terrible thing to you.”
“No, it was not Jan.”
“Anna, when we came to collect you at the pond, you clearly cursed Stelnicki.”
“I have no memory of that, Zofia. I don’t believe I could have said such a thing.”
“Then who was it?” Zofia demanded.
Anna lay back against the pillows, her eyes moving to the ceiling. “It was too dark. I have no recollection of any face. Or voice, for that matter. He mumbled only a few words, words that were distorted by his drunkenness and my own fear.… It might have been Feliks Paduch.”
“The man who killed your father? Ridiculous. It was Stelnicki.” Zofia was unconsciously squeezing Anna’s hand. “You know that it was. Surely you don’t mean to protect him… after this?”
Anna did not respond. There must be something about the man she could recall, she thought, something that would exonerate Jan. Why couldn’t she remember?
Zofia’s tone softened suddenly. “Perhaps because you cared for him you’re attempting to put all memory of the episode out of your mind.”
“Zofia, I love him.”
Zofia stiffened in her chair. “They say that a kind word must be masked by a hard word, Anna. You cannot love him now! This is something unforgivable. He must be punished like any common criminal!”
Anna wanted to continue her defense of Jan, but she could not find the strength to answer or even move. She was undergoing a few minutes of protracted pain that raged and burned over the purple and black areas of her legs, stomach, and groin. Were she able, she would have called out in agony.
“Anna! What is it?” Zofia gasped. “You’ve turned as white as Marzanna herself. It was my fault! All mine. And I said such wicked things to you at the pond. You know I didn’t mean them… really I didn’t!” Zofia’s voice shook as the tears spilled.
At last, Anna felt the paroxysm receding.
Zofia leaned over and kissed Anna, who could feel her cousin’s wet cheek and the sweeping brush of her long eyelashes. “Please, Ania darling, you must get well. You must.”
Anna then heard Zofia slip from the room.
Zofia hurried into her own room in an agitated disposition. Her tears were real. Things had gone too far. She would keep Anna from having Jan, but she didn’t want her to die. Her cousin had a life to live, too. She would meet others. And as for Jan, well, he would pay for his fickleness in his affections. If he is not to be what keeps me from the wretched marriage my parents have planned, she thought, there will be another way. I am a woman of imagination.
She walked to the window. Outside, the rain continued in never-ending gray sheets. She doubted that her father would go to the pond today.
Zofia turned to the mantle and found herself staring at the sealed letter meant for Anna that she had taken from Katarzyna the morning after the incident at the pond. She was just leaving Anna’s room as Katarzyna was coming to the top of the servants’ stairwell with it. Zofia threatened death to the silly girl if she didn’t keep quiet about its existence. The girl swore she alone was present when the Stelnicki messenger arrived at the kitchen door and that she wouldn’t breathe a word.
The letter remained unopened. Zofia had been afraid to read it, afraid of what Jan felt for Anna, afraid to see it in writing.
She bent now to stoke the fire that had been lighted to counter the dampness in the room.
Zofia stared at the letter a very long time, thinking that she should give it to Anna, that it would hasten her recovery. It was the right thing to do. Doing so would ease her own conscience, too. She could make that sacrifice.
She picked it up and started for the door. As she reached for the door handle, however, her mind’s eye caught the moment she had come upon Jan and Anna lying in the leaves at the pond. Her blood surged anew at the image. What terrible fate had brought Anna to Halicz?
She turned back and moved to the fireplace. When a little orange flame ignited there, she took the letter and dropped it into the grate, watching with growing satisfaction as the flame greedily embraced the curling letter and molten red ran from the wax of the Stelnicki seal.
Zofia sighed now, thinking how the happenstance occurrence of intercepting the letter seemed to have brought her a seat higher on the wheel of fortune. She wasn’t going to let Anna undo her plans.
After a few minutes she was pulled from her thoughts by the sound of carriage wheels turning on the gravel road in the front of the house.
How curious. She returned to the window. Approaching the house was the most elegant carriage she had ever seen. The wetness made its black leather shimmer and gleam. It was being drawn by four fine white horses and manned by a driver and two footmen.… Who could this be?
A light knock came at her door.
“Come in,” Zofia called, turning to see her mother enter.
The Countess Gronska seemed almost timid in her own daughter’s bedchamber. Something about her mother’s face immediately tied Zofia’s tongue. “Zofia,” the countess said, “we are receiving visitors today.”
“Yes?” Her heart began to drop like a stone in a slow-moving dream. Suddenly, Zofia knew what her mother was going to say, and she felt as if an abyss opened up beneath her and at any moment the Furies would rise up to draw her in.
The countess drew a long breath, then said: “The Grawlinski family has arrived.”
All through the afternoon hours, Anna heard the bustle of activity below. When Lutisha brought her supper, she told her that the Grawlinski family had come for a short stay.
Later, when Zofia came into the room, Anna was surprised that for once she could read Zofia’s face so clearly. Distraught, her cousin crumpled into the chair next to Anna’s bed.
“What is it?” Anna asked.
“Oh, Anna, I feel like a tiny fly entangled in a great spider’s web.” Clutching her cousin’s hand, she held it to her breast. “I can’t see a way out and all the spider has to do is pounce on me.”
“What is it, Zofia? You’re speaking in riddles.” Anna suspected playacting.
Her cousin drew a deep breath. “The Baron Grawlinski and his fat wife have come here with their son, Lord Antoni—all the way from St. Petersburg—so that my parents may announce and set into motion our marriage. The fact that I’m meeting him for the first time means nothing. Our families have planned this since we were young children.”
“I didn’t know that guests were expected.”
“Nor I! Mother and Father cleverly concealed their visit. Knowing my opposition, they used the element of surprise to entrap me. Oh, had I known, I would have gone to work and, I dare say, would have bent them to my wishes. But now… what am I to do, Anna?” She sobbed, though her eyes remained tearless. “Whatever am I to do?”
“You’ve met him?”
“Yes, we just finished supper.”
“And?”
“Oh, he’s not bad looking. Even a bit handsome in a way. But he’s so priggishly proper. My life will be spent in boredom, unflinching, perpetual boredom!”
“Perhaps it’s just the formality of the first meeting.”
“Oh, no. He’s of the old ways. It took little time to take measure of him. To his little mind a wife ranks no higher than a servant. Why, it’s as if the three of them have come to bargain for some vase that will enhance their family mantle. I’m to be his property! And I have no doubt I’ll be expected to produce children like Lutisha produces dumplings. Oh, I shall hate him. I do hate him!”
“Shush, Zofia, you’ll be heard.”
“I don’t care. This is so ill-timed. I could always give a turn to Father’s view on a subject, but now with Walter rebelling against home and homeland, as Father says, he’s not about to let me get away with anything.”
“But Zofia, with Walter eventually inheriting the estate, you’ll be doing well for yourself. You’ll have a husband, estates in both Poland and Russia. You know men are quick to marry when they can advance themselves, but seldom when the woman—”
“It just may be that Walter will not inherit a thing, Anna.”
“What?”
“Never mind. And you can be certain that Father has promised a healthy dowry.” Zofia tilted her head upward. “Baroness Zofia Grawlinska—is there a ring to it? To me it rings dully of wifely chores, musty rooms, and lost opportunity. Yes, the baron is old and the estates will not be long in coming. But the baroness is scarcely fifty and possesses the vitality of a plow horse—and figure to match!—so she is likely to live to be ninety-five. And she’ll sustain herself on the pleasure a dowager baroness derives from guiding and directing and browbeating a daughter-in-law who is not good enough for a son of hers.” Zofia caught her breath here. “No, I’m confident enough in myself to know I can do better. And if I never marry, so what? Living my life only to please myself will be enough.”
Anna found herself staring at her cousin. At last, she said, “Does Lord Antoni know of your reticence?”
“If he doesn’t, he’s a greater fool than I had imagined. I’ve done everything but send out criers.”
“It doesn’t affect him?”
“He ignores it. I’ve told you, Anna, it’s as if they’ve come here to collect on some investment. My feelings are nothing to them. Father must have promised plenty.”
“Don’t you think you’re seeing ghosts behind every stirring curtain? In many arranged marriages, the relationships have flourished afterward. Zofia, your own parents’ marriage is just one such example.”
“You, too, Anna? Why is everyone so willing to chop a fallen oak? Can you deny that you would rather have a marriage built on love, like your parents had?”
Anna felt her lips tighten. She could deny no such thing. And she could not help but wonder if her own chance at love was gone. Jan was being wrongly accused. It was so unfair. And yet he had not called and he had not written. What was there to do?
“And I’ve told you of his attitude toward women,” Zofia was saying. “I couldn’t bear to be his wife. Not in a thousand lifetimes!” The dark eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Why, Anna, I do believe you’re playing the devil’s advocate! Well, believe me when I say that before I marry Antoni Grawlinski, I would enter a convent!”
“You, Zofia?” Anna laughed. “A convent?”
“Well, at the very least, I would run off to France.”
“Zofia, you are a count’s daughter. That is hardly the best choice of climates. That is, if you wish to keep your head.”
“But the guillotine would be an infinitely more merciful execution than the one my parents have in mind. My dear Anna, I can see you are improving when you’re able to trade quips with me like this. Your lovely green eyes laugh at me. Oh, I know that I’m full of self-pity. There are certain advantages to the marriage, and who’s to say that I couldn’t indulge in a dalliance here and there? Such delicious evils are rampant in the city.”
Zofia paused for a moment now, and her tone turned dark. “Ah, I’m being pressed more and more by the hour. If I’m to do anything… ”
The half-sentence hung fire while her black eyes lost focus.
Anna wondered if some idea hadn’t come into her cousin’s head.
“But what can you do, Zofia?”
Emerging from her momentary trance, Zofia pressed Anna’s hand and forced a laugh. “Oh, nothing, darling… but fall into the trap set for me so long ago. A trap from which I’ll never escape.”
“If you could only hear yourself, Zofia.”
“Oh, I know how I must sound. Like Medea, I suppose, full of tragedy and angst. You think you know me, but you don’t. I’ll trouble you no more tonight.” She stood and brushed her lips against Anna’s cheek. “Your job, Ania, is to get well. Goodnight.”
Anna watched her leave, thinking that somehow her cousin had thought of something, for Zofia appeared now to walk with some direction in her step. Inexplicably, Anna thought of an expression her mother had once applied to Feliks Paduch: “A liar can go around the world, but can never come back.”