Heartsore and weary of mind, Karena faced Colonel Aleksandr Kronstadt in the small, crowded office.
“What have you done with Professor Menkin?” she accused.
He opened the one small window as wide as he could and pushed aside the curtains, looking out. He loosened the collar of his shirt and unbuttoned his jacket, watching her with that intense, thoughtful look that made his gray-green eyes as warm as the room.
“Where is my uncle now?”
“You need have no worry about Professor Menkin. He will not be held. He’s on the porch under guard, waiting for Leonovich.”
“If he will not be held, why is he still under guard?”
“Merely a matter of procedure. Major-General Durnov will have questions. Then Professor Menkin will sign a document and be released. However, I cannot say the same for your father. He’s chosen his path. I’m sorry, but he will be brought to Petrograd for further questioning.”
He pulled out a chair. “Please take a seat.”
How could she persuade the colonel of her father’s innocence without betraying his love for Sergei?
“I tell you, my father is innocent of the attack on Policeman Grinevich. He’s not a revolutionary. He’s a local representative of the zemstvo.”
“I am aware of his position.” He picked up a thick leather notebook. “It’s recorded here that your father’s grandfather was awarded governance of these lands by Czar Alexander I for loyal service. Is that so?”
“Yes.” Why was he bringing this up now?
“Do he and Madame Peshkova realize his confessing that he is a revolutionary leader in the Bolshevik Party means these lands will be taken from his immediate family and heirs?”
Stunned, she sat still.
His jaw hardened. “No? That’s what I thought. His decision today to throw himself on the altar for his son means he’s surrendered the inheritance of his wife and children.”
Karena, shocked, could not speak. She put her hand to her forehead.
“I’m sorry.” His voice softened. “I tried to tell him this, but he seemed fixated on his decision. I don’t think he’s thought this through. Believe me, I find no pleasure in telling you this. But it’s wiser for you to know now. You will need to make plans.” He pushed aside the clutter on the desk and sat on the edge. “I told Professor Menkin. He’ll do what he can. Your best hope is with General Roskov and your aunt in Petrograd. He may be able to appeal to Czar Nicholas.”
Leave the manor house? Leave the land on which she had been born and raised?
“As for your stepfather, being a local representative while also claiming to be a Bolshevik may only reap a harsher judgment. Those who hold Bolshevik political beliefs have as their goal to assassinate our czar.”
Her head jerked up. “Never. My father is a gentle man, most loyal. No one in my family would ever hope to do Czar Nicholas harm. And he’s not my stepfather.”
“Do you know how many attempts there have been through the years? An attempt was made not long ago here in Kiev at the opera house.” He tilted his head, his gaze combining thoughtfulness with decision. “Do you wonder that we must be careful?”
“No. But my father would never attempt such evil.”
He studied her, considering her frank declaration, taking in her face. Her blush did not seem to trouble him.
“I would know by my father’s political beliefs whether he nurtured revolutionary ambitions.”
“I don’t doubt that, but as an astute teacher, he’s fluent enough to present his politics in whatever form is expedient. You have heard of the Bolshevik underground? I see by your face you have. Most have heard of the writings and newspapers and books smuggled in from men like Lenin. A collection of Lenin’s works was found in your father’s office. Personally? It looks too contrived to me, and I have my doubts about his guilt. Nevertheless, your father swears loyalties to Karl Marx and Lenin.”
He gathered up Uncle Matvey’s manuscript and set it aside. She watched him, alert. “Then—you don’t really believe he’s telling the truth?”
“For myself, no,” he said bluntly. “He’s protecting your brother.”
She looked down at her hands, straightening a ring on her right hand. Did this mean he and the other officer, Durnov, might not arrest him? Would they change their minds?
She looked up. “What about Sergei? Are you taking him to St. Petersburg?”
He leafed through some other scattered papers on the desk.
“Your brother is free to go,” he said mildly.
Her breath caught. “What about Policeman Grinevich’s testimony? Did he by any chance mention anything about my father or Sergei?” Or me?
Even though he apparently saw through Josef’s false confession, Alex remained silent a moment too long, which heightened her tension.
“I didn’t speak with Grinevich,” he said at last. “Policeman Leonovich and Major-General Durnov were the last ones to see him alive. Durnov is satisfied your brother was not there, and it is his report that will be delivered to Petrograd. Are you suggesting that if I’d heard Grinevich’s testimony, it would contradict the report as it stands now?”
His bland voice coupled with an even stare unnerved her. He knows … or does he? If he did know for certain, wouldn’t he include this in his own report?
“No, I’m not suggesting that,” she said, avoiding his gaze. “I have no reason to think he would be involved in that sort of violent rioting. Absolutely not.”
“Absolutely not,” he said softly.
Karena stood abruptly but made as though she did not see his momentary, sardonic smirk. She looked deliberately at Uncle Matvey’s manuscript in his control.
“The manuscript is far from finished.” She found herself snapping the words. “He has worked for a year on the research alone. He’s just begun the writing this summer. What do you intend to do with it?”
His brow shot up. “Read it for any hint of disloyalty to Czar Nicholas,” he admitted frankly. “Don’t worry, Miss Peshkova. I will see that it is returned in perfect order to your uncle, should it prove, as he says, a work of harmless religion.”
“Thank you, Colonel Kronstadt,” she said formally. She touched her hair and drew in a breath. “Am I permitted to go about my work now?”
He smiled. “Not yet. Please be seated again.” He picked up his black leather notebook and walked over to the window where the breeze blew in. He looked quite handsome in his uniform of mostly gray and black, his boots just below the knee. There was also some gold braid and red ribbon on the jacket, which identified a special officers’ corps, but she was not familiar enough with the markings. She noted a gold ring on his finger. It looked familiar. Had Tatiana given it to him? He glanced at her when she remained silent, and she was sure he had caught her gaze on the ring.
“Did you attend the Bolshevik meeting last night?”
She glanced at him, but he was looking at his notebook. She turned away, straightening some papers.
“No,” she said, and bit her lip
A moment of silence trapped her.
“You did not hear Lenski last night?” he repeated.
“I said no, Colonel.”
“So you did, Miss Peshkova. Did Sergei attend?”
“No.” She folded her arms.
“Is he a friend of Lenski?”
Her heart was thudding. “No.”
A gust of wind came through the window and stirred the papers on Matvey’s desk. Karena moved to anchor them.
“He’s seeing Ivanna in Petrograd, is he not? They have a favorite nightclub they attend frequently.”
She closed her eyes. So he knew about Ivanna. Of course he would. The Okhrana knows everything, as Ilya had put it.
“Do they? Then why ask me? I know nothing of bright lights and dance clubs in Petrograd,” she said.
“I’ll ask the questions. Ivanna attends the Imperial Medical College. You did not go to the meeting last night to meet her, to try to gain her support to help you get into the program?”
She clasped her fingers tightly behind her back. “Did you locate Ivanna? Is that what she told you?”
“Did you go to meet her last night?”
She turned away to straighten the books on the shelf, unable to face him. “No.”
“Did Ilya Jilinsky or anyone in your family attend the meeting?”
“No.”
“Did you hear about any friends or neighbors who attended?”
She thought of Anna. “No.”
“Are you aware of any persons in your family or among friends who wish to overthrow the Romanovs?”
“No,” she said, straightening her back.
She was afraid and infuriated at the same moment. He had her lined up against the wall, and all the time she had a growing feeling he knew she was not speaking truthfully, yet he was going along with what she said, accepting her answers. Where was this leading?
“Where were you last night between six o’clock and ten?”
She whirled to face him. He watched her with affected indifference. She knew she must be showing emotions of misery and defiance all at once. She lifted her chin and folded her arms. Now she had him.
“Why, I was with Dr. Dmitri Zinnovy. He’s returned to St. Petersburg, but he can testify to my whereabouts and will do so when you ask him. He brought me home around nine o’clock in his coach. There are witnesses.” She turned her mouth into a little smile. “The gendarmes themselves stopped us on the road but then permitted us to go on. Policeman Leonovich was in charge. In fact, Colonel, you could ask Leonovich now, if he’s still in the kitchen, dropping sugary crumbs all over the floor.”
The silence was painful. He watched her. She felt the flush warm her cheeks. Her gaze slid aside, and she stood, angrily walked over to the desk, and stacked Uncle Matvey’s books neatly together.
“Very nice, yes. Very well done, Miss Peshkova,” he said smoothly. “So then, Dr. Zinnovy, the czar’s family physician, is your alibi. Congratulations. I admit I’m relieved. You had me in quandary, for the last thing I wish is your arrest.”
She looked at him.
“I should say you will be quite safe now, for a time,” he said. “Unless you permit yourself to foolishly attend such an unlawful meeting again.”
Again? She met his gaze.
“Then you are sure you don’t recall the names or faces of any peasants who were also at that meeting?” he asked silkily.
“No—” She stopped. She stared at him. Peasants … Peasant! One particular peasant, a very comely one, with dark hair—
She narrowed her lashes and looked him over with keen observation. Alex was the peasant who’d been watching her at the meeting! The man with the hat pulled low, who had lit the cigarette—who had stood right next to Dr. Zinnovy … and who had seen her there! It was Aleksandr Kronstadt!
“You—,” she whispered.
Karena’s knees almost went out from under her. The trap he had set for her seemed perfect. He could prove she had lied to most everything he had asked her. And he could even prove Dr. Zinnovy had been at the meeting.
He straightened and snapped his leather notebook closed. The sound all but convinced her that she was doomed.
He seemed about to say something when there came a terrible pounding on the front door. Karena tensed and moved toward the hall.
She heard Grandmother Jilinsky hurrying to answer, followed by the voice of Ilya in the kitchen.
Karena sank to a chair. It was over for her. Alex was witness to her and Sergei’s presence at the rally when Grinevich was assaulted. What would Durnov do if Alex informed him? He would need to release Papa Josef and arrest her and Sergei instead. Kronstadt had expertly baited his trap. Her feelings toward him were a poisonous mixture of attraction and aversion.
She heard an anxious voice from the porch asking for her by name. It was a woman’s voice. Natalia? She listened, trying to make out who was there.
“Oh, Madame Jilinsky, where is Karena? I must find her now! It is most urgent. Oh please, is she here?”
Karena then recognized the frightened voice of Elena Lavrushsky, Anna’s sister-in-law. Forcing aside all other worries, Karena went to the doorway that faced the little hall.
Elena stood on the porch, looking past Grandmother Jilinsky who held open the front door. Ilya came from the kitchen, concern on his face.
“Elena, what’s wrong?” Karena asked.
The young woman crossed herself. “It’s Anna. She’s gone into early labor. I fear for her life! I went straight to the manor house, but Madame Yeva was not there, and no one knew where I could find her. Your sister told me I’d find you here. Please, come and do what you can!”
Karena caught her scarf from the hook in the hall and turned toward Alex, who was leaning in the doorway. Their gazes locked. For a moment she did not move; then, not knowing whether he’d reach out and stop her or not, she turned from him and hurried out the open front door after Elena.
Anna needed her. That was all that mattered at the moment. Seven months! Could the baby live? She’d read about a baby who’d survived a six-month pregnancy. The child was a little slow mentally but lived a normal, happy life.
Would Alex send a soldier to guard the Lavrushsky bungalow and bring her back? He’d known all along she’d been at the meeting. He’d been toying with her like a cat with a mouse. Who knew what would befall them now? Papa Josef’s self-sacrifice for Sergei might prove to be in vain. Sergei could yet be imprisoned.
The sun was setting on the horizon, spilling a golden pink over the distant wheat fields.
Karena sent Elena rushing to the manor house to retrieve Madame Yeva’s medical bag and to see if she was there.
If not, I shall deliver this baby—entirely on my own.