“He is dead and that’s that!” Zofia said. “Who cares who did it, Anna?”
“A man like that,” Michał offered, “does have his share of enemies.” The baron had stayed to wait for news of the duel, news that reached Praga with the arrival of Jan just short of two hours after the event.
Anna had looked up to see Jan in the doorway, and her soul opened at the vision, filling with warmth and light. She had prepared herself for the worst. After all, if her father could desert her through death…
Jan was solemnly subdued. This was no surprise to Anna. He had seen death that day and in the most disturbing circumstances. Meeting the baron now for the first time, he listened to the case against Antoni with no little interest. Anna sensed that he shared Zofia’s opinion: that what mattered now was that Anna could live her life without fear of her husband. The opportunity for them to speak privately did not arise before he took his leave.
In the days that followed, Anna wondered as much about Jan’s reaction to Antoni’s death as she did investigate her own… as honestly as she could. She wished no one dead, but she knew that she and her child would live now, thanks to some nameless assassin. Who was it? Feliks Paduch? Michał had solved one riddle, but now there was another, perhaps equally as worrisome.
She initiated no service for her husband, though she felt compelled to dress in mourning. She sent his body back to his mother in St. Petersburg with a formal letter giving up any claim to the Grawlinski title and fortune. Let his parents keep everything, she thought. She wanted nothing to do with them. While the baron was old and probably harmless, Michał had seemed quite convinced that the Baroness Grawlinska knew very well what her son had been up to. Who knew of what the mother of a man like that might be capable herself? Anna wanted all ties to that family severed.
The third week of April found winter but a memory. The virgin rains and vapors of the new spring swept through the grateful kingdom, carrying off the sediments of the harsh months.
Anna heard nothing from Jan for some days, and she wondered if Zofia’s interdict against him were the reason. Some of Anna’s patriot friends visited her, lifting the impatient discomfort of the final months of her term. Because many of them were commoners, she was careful to keep such meetings from her cousin and aunt.
Poland mourned the death of Leopold II, Emperor of Austria and brother to Marie Antoinette. He had remained favorable to Poland’s Constitution, maintaining that it might prevent revolution in Central Europe. Anna’s compatriots clung to the hope—some judged it a thin one—that his successor, Francis II, would honor his father’s alliance with Poland.
Aunt Stella’s mind seemed steady during this time, and like Zofia, she was kind to Anna in the weeks following Antoni’s death. Zofia, however, continued her entertainments at the townhome, and Anna became determined to leave the city soon after her child’s birth.
Anna was napping one afternoon when Lutisha came up to her bedchamber to say that Count Stelnicki was below in the reception room. “Shall I tell him you are indisposed, Madame?”
“Indisposed? You may not! Bring me my mirror.”
“But Countess Anna Maria—”
“But what?”
“You are only six or seven weeks from coming to term,” she said, handing Anna the mirror. “And your husband has died so recently. It is not appropriate for you to see Count Stelnicki.” The servant stopped, blushing at her own forwardness.
“Lutisha, I catch your meaning. I know what is said below stairs about Lord Stelnicki. Listen to me: it’s not true. Uncle Leo was mistaken; Jan was not at fault for what happened at the pond last September. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Madame.”
Jan stood and complimented Anna on her appearance as she approached him.
“What a cool liar you are, Lord Stelnicki.”
“Lord Stelnicki? Is this what we’ve come to? Back to such formality?”
Anna dropped her happy retort when she saw that Zofia sat in the countess’ chair near the fireplace. She was knitting. Knitting! Anna could not help but emit a little gasp. She had never seen her knit. She knew immediately that this was merely a bit of stage business and that her cousin planned to remain for the entirety of Jan’s visit. Anna felt the seeds of fury take root within her at the thought of her cousin’s intrusion.
Jan was questioning Anna now on her health, showing sincere concern as her time came due.
“What? Yes, I’m fine.” Anna spoke absently, drawing her eyes away from her cousin, who sat feigning disinterest.
“You won’t be for long, Anna, darling,” Zofia said, without a glance up from her work, “if you don’t take care of yourself. You should be in bed.”
“I am fine, Zofia,” Anna said. “Shouldn’t you be in preparation for tonight’s festivities?” Anna attempted a light tone but knew her meaning was clear and caustic. What had the two been talking about before she came into the room?
“Oh, there is a wealth of time,” Zofia rejoined in the same false lightness. “I have all afternoon.”
Jan and Anna seated themselves on the sofa. Jan told her that he had been in Kraków on political business and that he would have to go back within a day or two. Anna knew that it was Zofia’s presence that inhibited him from kissing her hand, or even taking it into his. They were meeting for the first time since Antoni’s death had freed Anna, yet she knew that neither of them would be able to say the things that only their eyes dared to communicate in the most surreptitious manner.
For half of an hour they attempted conversation that was polite and stilted. Anna’s angry distraction with her cousin grew in proportion to the time lost.
At last, she had had enough of Zofia’s meddling. She spoke directly to Jan, disregarding Zofia. “Jan, childbirth always involves a risk. Should something happen to me—”
“Why, Anna, you look splendid! Nothing will happen to you.”
“Nevertheless, I want you to take this.” Anna withdrew a sealed document from her skirts. “It is my will and statement of intent, should my child survive me.”
Jan’s face darkened. He reached for the document.
Anna sensed Zofia’s steady gaze upon her. She ignored it. “Before you take it, Jan, I must ask you to become my child’s guardian, should I die.”
Zofia took in an audible breath and pitched in her chair, but Anna gave her no notice.
“Of course, Ania,” Jan whispered.
She gave him the document. “My child’s wealth will be left in your hands. I ask that you see to his education. I should like him to learn four or five languages. Knowing languages will be key to his future. Will you see to these things? It is much to ask, I know.”
“It is not, but we needn’t worry about such things. Why, you will teach him Polish, Russian, and French yourself!”
“I’m not worried for myself, Jan. I want my son to be a man of character.”
“How can you know it’s a boy?”
Anna shrugged. “A presentiment, I suppose. I shall be surprised if it is not.” She felt a faintness overcome her then.
“Anna… are you all right?” Jan asked. “You’re turning quite pale.”
“It’s nothing. A dizzy spell. It’ll pass in a moment.”
“She’s too weak to be out of bed,” Zofia said. “I knew this little interview would be too much for you, Anna Maria. My God, you’re as pale as Marzanna!”
Like Anna, Jan ignored Zofia. “I’ll stay here in Warsaw, Anna, until your child is born.”
“No, that’s not at all necessary. The birth is weeks away and you have important business to be about.”
He nodded reluctantly. “I would be useless anyway, I imagine. But I shall keep you informed of my whereabouts so you may send word of the birth… or if, in some way, I might be of help.”
“Thank you, Jan.”
Jan smiled and for a moment Anna was completely happy in the warmth of those lips above his dimpled chin.
“Anna, dearest,” Zofia pressed, “I think it is time you return to your room.”
“Zofia is right,” Jan said, before Anna could protest. “I should be taking my leave.” He rose and bowed to Anna, then to Zofia, saying his goodbyes.
Zofia rang for Lutisha.
Just as the servant lumbered in, Zofia stood. “I’ll see Count Stelnicki to the door, Lutisha,” she said. “You are to help Anna back to her room.”
Anna seethed at Zofia’s interference. She was left to wonder what Jan might have said, were it not for her cousin’s presence.
Her mind’s eye would cling to the look Jan’s cobalt eyes cast in her direction as Zofia led him from the room, a reassuring glance from which she would draw strength during the ordeal of giving birth.