The sky remained cloudless and the roads blessedly dry so that the two carriages made good time as they trundled to the far south of the Commonwealth.
Anna could only wonder what her stoically silent aunt was thinking. She had to know, as Anna did, that Zofia would never remove their names from the document. Zofia’s presumption, after everything else that had transpired, could only widen the chasm between mother and daughter.
Anna’s own break with Zofia was now political and personal. What right had she to affix Anna’s and Jan Michał’s names to the Confederacy? And did she truly have a notion she could still have Jan? Was it a silly fancy or was it based on anything in fact? Jan had never said a word about any past alliance with Zofia. Why not? Had he been a conquest of hers? If he had cared for her once, might he still?
Now Zofia’s behavior at the pond made sense. Anna had told her cousin of Jan’s proposal, and Zofia reacted by pretending to believe that Anna wished no such serious courting; in fact, she must have been horrified to think he had taken Anna seriously. When the two were left alone picking raspberries, they must have argued—perhaps Zofia had made the advances—and she lashed out at Jan’s indifference by tearing her own blouse and claiming he attacked her. And that charade had initiated a chain of events resulting in the attack on Anna, the child that she carried, and the doomed marriage to Grawlinski. There was, too, the missing letter from Jan that must have been intercepted. Zofia must have taken it without so much as a twinge of conscience! Anna’s eyes were opened now to what lengths Zofia would go in order to have her own way.
Days later, the sight of the white limestone manor house at Halicz with its columned portico was a happy one for both Anna and her aunt.
On the first morning after their arrival, Marta came up to say that a guest awaited her in the reception room. Anna guessed the identity of the visitor but did not question the servant.
She glanced longingly at one of her favorite summer dresses, blue with lace at the neckline and sleeves, then donned her black mourning dress. How glad she would be to be done with mourning.
She collected herself at the top of the staircase, where a large stone eagle rested on the upper newel post. It was a representation of the white eagle, symbol of Poland. As many times as she had passed it on her previous summer’s stay with her relatives, she had never given it any thought. Now she paused to think about the safety of her homeland, touching the rough surface and wordlessly asking the bird to be vigilant.
She imagined now that one of the glass eyes was winking at her, as if to confirm who the visitor was. She smiled to herself at the capricious thought, then quickly moved down the stairs.
Anna came to an abrupt halt at the foot of the staircase when she came face to face with Jan Stelnicki. The deep blue of his eyes seemed to laugh at her.
He bent immediately to kiss her hand. Lifting his blond head, he said, “You were not moving so fast at our last meeting, Anna.”
She laughed. “I was swollen with child then!”
“Swollen, perhaps, but beautiful, nonetheless.”
Anna felt herself blushing. She took in a breath, savoring the dulcet sound of his voice more than the compliment. “Oh, Jan, it’s so good to see you again.”
They were wordless for the long moments he held her hand. Then he led her into the reception room where Countess Gronska was waiting.
Anna could not help but be disappointed. How she longed to talk with him alone! She wanted to absorb his presence. And there was so much to ask him.
“I’ve come to say goodbye, Anna,” Jan said.
Anna had no time to respond to the sting of those words because Marta entered the room, carrying a tray with three glasses of wine.
No one spoke while the servant was present. For Anna, the delay was interminable. Her heart pounded fiercely. What did he mean? Had she waited so long and come such a distance for another goodbye? Was this all life had to offer them? A series of goodbyes while the greater parts of their lives were spent apart.
After the three held their glasses and the servant was gone, Anna said, “Wine in the morning—I shall get light-headed!”
The countess’ smile lasted only seconds. “Jan is to go against the Russians, Anna.”
Jan looked at Anna as if to confirm it. He raised his glass. “To Poland!”
The countess echoed his toast.
Anna scarcely whispered hers. As she raised her glass and sipped, she watched Jan for a long moment. He was going off to fight the Russians. She knew she should be concerned for the country, but all that she could think of was that he might be wounded or killed. Only Jan Michał would ever rival him for an equal portion of her love; however, that was a mother’s love and different from her love—her passion—for Jan. Knowing that he would be in danger brought the fullness of her feelings into focus. Little else mattered. She knew that she would never have such feelings for any other man. She would gladly die for his safety.
Jan was watching her. “Empress Catherine has dispatched troops to Poland to uphold the Confederacy of Targowica and destroy the Constitution. I am to rejoin Kościuszko’s forces sooner than I expected.”
“When do you leave?”
“At noon tomorrow.”
Noon! So little time.
“A Mass is to be said at ten,” he continued, “before we depart.”
“A Mass?” The countess asked, unable to hide her surprise.
“No, Countess,” Jan laughed, “I haven’t suddenly converted. I may one day, but it hasn’t happened yet. Most of the men from my farm are to join up with Kościuszko, so in deference to their leaving, I’ve asked a priest to come to the estate.”
“I see,” the countess said.
“But I will attend and I was hoping that both of you would come to the house for it.”
Neither Anna nor her aunt had to be persuaded further. The matter was quickly decided.
“I know you two have only just arrived, but I must counsel you to return to Warsaw as soon as possible. Things may become unsafe here in short order.”
“Sweet Jesus,” the countess said. The fear and disappointment in her face mirrored Anna’s.
“How is Jan Michał?” Jan asked, as if to shift to a happier subject.
“Fine,” Anna said. “Would you like to see him?”
Jan brightened. “Of course.”
“I’ll call Marta.”
“No, Anna,” the countess said. “Let me go fetch the little one.”
Anna silently blessed her aunt, suspecting that she was deliberately giving her some time alone with Jan.
The two sat on the sofa. Her heart started pounding again. She suddenly became afraid to trust her own emotions.
Jan, however, took the lead in conversation, speaking mostly of the nature of the Russian invasion.
Their little time together was being spent on very important, but public, matters. How was she to divert the conversation to the private concerns of her heart?
Eventually, he realized she wasn’t wholly following him. “What is it, Anna?” he asked, taking her hand in his.
“Do you know of Zofia’s intention?” Anna herself was surprised at how quickly the question came, rolling involuntarily off her tongue.
“Zofia?”
Anna nodded.
“What has she told you?”
“That she loves you.”
Jan gave out with a strange laugh. “Is that what she said? She doesn’t love me. Her great pride’s been hurt, that’s all.”
“Then there was a time when—”
Jan put his finger on Anna’s lips. “Do you love me, Anna?”
“I am only recently a widow. A full year must pass before I can marry again.”
“There are some conventions that would do well to be ignored.”
Was he of the same mind as Zofia? That Anna could flaunt tradition and marry when she chose? “What do you mean?”
“You could come to Kraków. It is safely in the hands of the patriots.”
“Kraków?” Anna’s head spun. What did he mean? That they marry?… Or that she merely live with him?
“I ask you again, Anna: Do you love me?”
At that moment, Countess Gronska came into the room, Jan Michał in her arms. Anna could give Jan no answer.
They stood and Jan fussed over the child, the countess joining in. He took and held the baby, making funny faces at him, much as Anna sometimes did. If only this child were his, she thought.
“I must take my leave now,” Jan said after a time, giving the baby over to Anna. “You will both come tomorrow, at ten?”
Anna nodded. Her opportunity to tell Jan that she loved him had come and gone. But there was tomorrow.
“Oh my, I’ve given orders for a good meal,” the countess said.
“My apologies, Countess Gronska, but there is so much to do. With my men joining the cause, I’m closing down the estate.”
“I see,” she said, accepting a kiss on the cheek in reparation. “We’ll see you in the morning, Count Stelnicki.”
“Good. And with luck, it will never be Pan Stelnicki.” Jan turned to Anna. He kissed the baby first, then Anna on both cheeks. “Till mid-morning, then.”
“Till mid-morning,” Anna heard herself say. She would tell him then.
After he was gone, Anna turned to her aunt. “What did Jan mean when he said he wished his name might never be Pan Stelnicki?”
“He didn’t sign with the Confederacy, Anna. If the Kościuszko forces should lose, both his estate and his title will be lost. He will merely be Citizen Stelnicki.”
Anger flared within Anna. “Only God can take his title!”
“Perhaps, dearest. But the long-gathering storm has been unleashed and I fear our way of life will never be the same.”