Anna sat down on the side of her bed and glanced over the paper she held in her hand.
It had been weeks since she had begun this letter to her family. Yet every time she tried to add to it, some interruption came. She had been too busy and exhausted during the weeks in the kitchen to be able to think of much else besides work and sleep. She had scribbled off hasty notes on each of the first two Thursdays, merely to tell her mother and father that she was well and remembering them every day in her prayers.
But she had wanted to tell them in more detail about her duties, and about the recent changes that had come to her life, and what she was thinking about. She had begun this same letter now three or four times, and still did not even have a full page written. Perhaps today would be different, for Katrina had gone to the city with her mother.
She had the entire afternoon to herself! And Anna couldn’t think of a better way to spend the time than with her father and mother and brothers and sisters. With Christmas approaching, she missed them now more than ever. These coming days were not going to be easy ones! As poor as they were, her mother always managed to make Christmas a special time. Anna had already shed a few tears over the thought of not being with them this year. And she was certain more tears would come before Christmas was past and the new year begun.
She drew in a long sigh and stared down at the paper again, reading over what she had written previously. Then she rose, walked to the small table on the other side of the room, sat down, dipped the pen in the jar of ink, and began to write.
Ten or fifteen minutes later, Nina—who had been excused from duty with her mistress in the city—walked into the room unannounced.
“Anna,” she said, “come with me.”
Anna laid down her pen and followed. Questioning what she was told to do had never been one of Anna’s faults. Though she might have preferred to remain and work on her letter, she obeyed without hesitation.
Nina led the way down the corridors and stairways which had by now become an intrinsic part of Anna’s daily existence. However, the moment Nina altered her course down a certain darkened hallway Anna had not entered in weeks, a chilling sense of foreboding swept over her—not from the cold of the deserted hallway, but rather from where it led. They were heading for the kitchen!
She felt her throat go dry; had Nina spoken to her now, Anna would have been utterly unable to reply.
On they proceeded, around one corner, then another . . . until, at last, the large iron-studded oak door loomed before them. Nina lifted the heavy latch, pulled the massive door toward them, and instantly Anna felt a rush of warm humid air from inside flowing out into the cool hallway. Even before they stepped inside, the smells and sounds borne on the warm current sent Anna back to her first days in St. Petersburg. She hardly had more than a second or two, however, to accustom herself to the inrush of familiar sensations, when suddenly a presence of dread approached and stood before them.
Olga Stephanovna!
“Thank you, Nina,” said the terrible voice. The next instant Nina had turned back through the door, which closed with a frightful sound, as of a prison door clanking shut, and Anna was left alone in the kitchen—her worst nightmare suddenly come to life—with the Iron Mistress!
Olga glanced up and down Anna’s frame, now trembling.
“Well, Anna Yevnovna, you appear no worse for being pampered in the main house, although your face is still white as death! But that’s no matter. Come with me.”
She turned and led Anna through the kitchen. Anna followed, daring not even to glance about for Polya’s friendly face.
Where was Olga taking her? To the stables—or wherever else it had been that Polya had disappeared for two days and been beaten black and blue!
Through dark familiar passageways they went, up a narrow flight of stairs, around two corners—they were going back to her old room! It had all been a dream! She looked down at her fine navy blue dress. That part of the dream somehow still lingered. Olga was taking her to her room; if not to beat her, at least to put her back in her old kitchen rags before sending her back down to peel and wash and scrub and sweat!
Anna’s heart sank. She was no longer afraid, just very, very weary . . . and sad. What would she be able to tell her mother and father of her new life now? Nothing but drudgery and misery, and only work and more work to look forward to!
Olga opened a door and walked into a room Anna had never seen before.
It was large, mostly empty except for a few pieces of furniture, and smelled musty. Cobwebs hung from the ceilings and corners.
“I need this room clean,” said Olga, as if she had been waiting fit opportunity to punish Anna for her good fortune. “I asked Nina if I might borrow you for the purpose and she agreed. You know where the brooms, buckets, and mops are. When you are ready to scrub, ask one of the men in the kitchen to help you bring up the water. It must be spotless, Anna Yevnovna, do you understand?”
Anna nodded, and the next moment was alone in the dark, stale chamber, not knowing whether to be happy or disheartened.
She never saw the triumphant glint in Olga’s eyes as the cook walked away.
When Anna finally returned to her own room, filthy and exhausted, her heart was heavy with many emotions. She wanted to cry. But instead she sank down beside her bed and fell to her knees.
At first no words would come, only thoughts of thankfulness that her new place in the house had not been a dream after all, thankfulness that she had been chosen as maid to the princess out of the midst of the kitchen drudgery. As she lifted up her heart to the God of her father, an awareness gradually began to steal upon young Anna Yevnovna Burenin that perhaps she had not been chosen by Katrina Fedorcenko or Katrina’s mother or Mrs. Remington at all, but rather by the God who orders all things in the lives of those who serve Him.
She remembered her father’s words, and as his voice came gently back to her, Anna’s heart grew peaceful and was glad: Remember that our God will hold you in His arms. You are nearly a woman, Anna, and not to be looked down upon by anyone . . . most of all, you must never forget how much I love you, my dear and special daughter.
Anna glanced over to the table where sat her few possessions. Her eyes rested upon the Bible her father had given her.
She closed her eyes. God, I haven’t remembered you quite as much as I should, she prayed silently. I have been so busy and distracted by all that has happened. But help me, God, to remember you in all things.
She paused and exhaled deeply. In the stillness of her room her soul was at peace. And thus she did, in her own quiet way, rejoice in thankfulness that her steps were ordered by Another.
Slowly forms and faces began to come into her mind, and she prayed for each—first for her father and mother, for whom prayers of thanksgiving and love flowed forth, then her sisters and younger brother, and especially for Paul, for whom her prayers did not bring joy but heartache. She prayed for Polya and Nina. Then suddenly she heard words of prayer coming out of her mouth for Olga Stephanovna!
“And the Princess Katrina, God,” she went on, “I pray that you would let her be happy with me, and help me do my best for her. And whatever was the reason that she picked me to be her maid, or if you had some hand in it like Papa would say you did, help me to do what I’m supposed to, and when things get hard to remember what Papa would tell me about praying to you, and to let every occasion be one to remember you in. Thank you, God, for being so good to me when I hardly deserve it!”
She ceased, opened her eyes, and breathed deeply, a smile on her face. She started to rise, then suddenly stopped, slipped back on one knee, and bowed her head briefly once more. “Oh, and I thank you, God, for Mistress Katrina’s brother, that he was so kind to me!”
Anna climbed to her feet. But she did not return to her table to work on the letter she had begun earlier in the day. She went, instead, directly to bed. The letter she had hoped to send home would have to wait a while longer. She could not keep her eyes open another minute.