Chapter Two
Язычники
Mishka has begun to feel great trepidation at the prospect of tutoring Katya Volkovna. There she sits across the large yet simple table. With an impish grin fitting for a spawn of the Evil One, she strokes the head of a rat that she knows is dead.
“Katyusha,” Natalya frowns. “I thought we agreed you wouldn’t bring your... pets to the table anymore.”
“I just wanted to introduce Monsieur Borozov to the residents of our fine house.” She glances up at her sister with a look too innocent for her to be unaware of the implications she has created.
Scowling, Natalya leans closer to the girl. “Get rid of it.”
Katya does not back down under her sister’s icy glare. Instead, she looks about ready to spit on her. Sensing the increasingly intense atmosphere, Ivan clears his throat. “Katya,” he says quietly. “Please. I think the rest of us would like to eat without smelling it.”
“Fine.” Without pomp or circumstance, Katya brings her silver fork down on the head of the unfortunate little corpse with a solid splat. Then, with nary a second thought, she flings the fork over her shoulder and smiles at the adults as if waiting for them to laugh at a joke she just made.
If he didn’t know any better, Mishka would have never guessed this little brat and Natalya were sisters. The older of the two sits gracefully to Ivan’s left, her back straight, hands placed primly in her lap. But where her hair is light and wispy, Katya’s is dark and thick, loose strands sticking every which way. Her collar is crooked, and she slumps as low in her chair as she can manage while still shoveling potatoes into her open maw.
“You’ll have to forgive the goblin,” Natalya addresses Mishka while pretending that Katya is not there. “What she needs is a firm hand, but alas, our mother passed away very shortly after she was born.”
“And her father?” Mishka asks before he can stop himself.
He doesn’t miss the twins glancing at each other out of the corner of their eyes, if only for the briefest of seconds. But it is not Natalya who speaks.
“Our father died several years ago, when part of the cellar collapsed.” Ivan looks down at his plate.
“Which is why it is off-limits, I’m sure,” Mishka asks, and the two nod. “You have my condolences.” He’s surprised to feel just a slight twinge of sympathy. He can imagine how hard it would be for the twins, who couldn’t have yet been past their mid-twenties, to pick up the pieces and run the estate after losing both parents.
“If you’ll forgive my impertinence,” he continues, turning to Natalya. “I must ask: is that why you’ve remained unmarried.”
Ivan opens his mouth, suddenly looking very tall, but she puts a hand on his arm, her expression unchanged. “I do not mind in the least,” her jaw twitches, finally a movement in her icy exterior. “Our father left us while Ivan was away with the army. I did what I could to maintain the estate while waiting for his return. I stay now to help him and Katya, among other things.”
Though Mishka wants to ask more about these other things, he’s stopped as the thick door creaks open behind him.
“Ah, Marie,” Natalya perks up. “I see you’re feeling well enough to join us, after all.”
Mishka turns, and lays eyes upon a creature more like a Vila or a Fey than a human. Unlike the others, she’s dressed in a long robe and silk nightgown, which move soundlessly as she floats into the room. Her hair is thick and dark like Katya’s, but her delicate face more so resembles Natalya’s
“Monsieur Borozov, this is our other sister, Maria. Marie, this is Katya’s new tutor, Mikhail Borozov.” Natalya gestures between them and Mishka stands.
Though her eyes seem a little unfocused, Maria blushes. “I apologize for my appearance,” she mumbles. “I didn’t expect you were coming today.”
“No trouble at all,” he clears his throat awkwardly, sitting back down. “Please don’t mind me.”
“Dmitri,” Ivan gestures, and the footman slides over. “It appears Marie will be joining us after all.”
Maria sits in the chair that Kapov pulls out for her. Now that she’s closer, Mishka can see that she does not look well. Her face appears clammy, her skin is tinged green, and her hands shake as she reaches for the cloth napkin.
“You look concerned,” she comments, smiling weakly. “You need not worry. I merely suffer headaches occasionally.”
“Occasionally?” Katya speaks up suddenly, and Mishka jumps. For the last several minutes she’s been in the corner of the room, occupied with the skewered rat. Even now she is shaking her fork around, trying to loosen it. “You’re always excusing yourself and fainting. It’s not fair. How come I have to always do things and she gets to ‘rest’?”
“Well, for one,” Ivan explains more patiently that Natalya would have, as Mishka gulps seeing her glare the younger girl down, “she is not a child, so we cannot in fact make her do anything.”
“And secondly I would do many things, and do, when I am able,” Maria sighs as her head sways slightly.
A quiet falls over the table. No doubt her illness weighs heavily on the family.
Kapov emerges again from the kitchen with another plate, but as soon as he places it in front of her, the green of Maria’s face deepens.
“My apologies, Dmitri,” she says thickly, “but I think I may have to take lunch in my room after all, if that’s alright.” She tries to stand, but sways wildly. Kapov barely manages to catch her and help her back down into the chair.
Seeing Natalya open her mouth, Mishka stands. “Please, allow me. I can accompany her back to her room.”
“Nonsense,” Natalya replies instantly. “Please don’t disrupt your meal. Ada!” she calls, and the maid once more materializes from who knows where. “Would you please help Marie back up to her room?”
“Of course, madam.” The maid curtsies before helping Maria to her feet. The rest follow her progress as she stumbles out of the room.
“Please don’t worry about her,” Ivan says, noticing Mishka’s eyes lingering on the door even after she’s departed. “These bouts of hers are terrible, but it will pass very soon.”
Natalya nods. “I will check on her after we are finished, of course.”
The rest of the meal passes by mostly in silence, with only the occasionally feeble attempt at conversation or the thumps of Katya’s rat hitting the floor. Mishka hopes his face looks more concerned than angry as he muses. Maria might be his way in. A way into the family’s good graces by showing concern and care, and a way to learn Ivan’s secrets. Natalya seems far too sly, but Maria is young, probably just a few years younger than he is. He can’t talk to her now, of course. He doesn’t think she’s lucid enough for that, but maybe when she feels better.
The pieces are falling into place, he thinks. Though certainly not soon enough for his liking.
~~ o ~~
Ada half-guides, half-carries Lady Maria to her room, which is a long walk up to the second floor. A long walk stumbling along the darkened corridors, with holes in the rug and the weight of another woman on her shoulders, whom, if she’s honest, is not light.
“Bloody hell,” she mutters in English, so that the Miss won’t hear.
Maria seems to understand the intonation, however, for she winces in response. “I’m so sorry, Ms. Steel,” her words slur slightly from the pain. “I thought I was... getting better.”
Adjusting her grip for the trip up the long, steep stairs, Ada sighs. “Well, let this be a lesson for you to not push yourself. Do you think you can make it up the steps?”
“I... I think so, yes.”
Ada feels the Miss stiffen beside her, steeling herself, but she can still feel the girl shake. She much truly be in a great deal of pain. The quicker she is in bed, the better for the both of them, so Ada places one foot in front of the other, and begins the long trek upwards, lifting half of Maria’s weight as well as her own.
They don’t make it very far, for as they continue to climb Maria’s faint shaking turns first into twitching, and then into tremors that increasingly threaten to pull her from Ada’s grasp. Fighting against the sudden, hysterical force of Maria’s body, she barely manages to haul her up to the first landing before the Miss collapses onto her knees, thrashing violently.
“Miss Marie?” Ada kneels next to her, attempting to pin her to the wall, so at the very least she won’t tumble back down the stairs.
But she freezes when Maria starts to speak.
“Ada,” she says simply, yet her voice has morphed into a strange whisper, husky and low. Ada wasn’t even aware her vocal cords could produce a sound such as that. With the force of one particularly strong spasm, Maria’s head tilts back and her eyes roll up towards the back of her head. “Ada,” she repeats, and once again, Ada is struck dumb. No one in this house has referred to her by her first name. Ever. “I... I need to tell you something. He has a message for you.”
Falling backwards, Ada instinctively grabs the chain around her neck. “Wha... what are you talking about, Miss?”
“Please. He’s screaming. I... I can’t get him to stop. He won’t stop he won’t stop. Run... run run run. Get out, he says. Get away from this place, as quickly as you can. And don’t stop. Don’t ever stop. Don’t look back.”
“Who?” she demands. “Who is ‘he?’”
“Jack.”
Maria suddenly stops, and after one more second of gaped staring at the ceiling, she collapses entirely against the wall, unconscious. Ada’s blood runs cold. That was a name she hadn’t heard in such a long time. Is the Miss threatening her? No, it can’t be. For the month she’s known her, she’s come to discover that Miss Marie doesn’t have an intimidating bone in her body. So what on the lord’s green earth is happening?
“Oh dear, it looks like you’ve had a little tumble.”
Ada looks down to see a tall, thin figure at the foot of the steps. Kapov the footman rushes up without any hesitation to join them on the landing.
“She just suddenly collapsed,” Ada explains, and then, gritting her teeth, “I suppose I could do with some help.” She doesn’t like him, not at all. But there’s no doubt that trying to drag an unconscious Maria to bed is a futile endeavor.
“Of course,” he grins slyly at her internal struggle and together, the two of them manage to haul Maria’s limp body up to the second floor. She’s still quietly mumbling to herself, but it’s mostly unintelligible now.
Ada and Kapov gently place her in her bed and shut the door, but neither of them dare to leave for some time, lingering in the hallway as they both strain their ears for any noise from within.
“So, what were you even doing there?” Ada asks, narrowing her eyes. “I thought you were serving lunch.”
“The meal was well underway and there was nothing else for me to do until they’re done,” he shrugs. “So, I suggested that I go check on the two of you, and lo and behold, my suspicions that you might need some help proved to be correct.”
Kapov grins again, pleased with himself, but that only causes Ada’s scowl to deepen.
“I’ve told you,” she mutters. “Speak in English when we’re alone. I know you can.”
“My apologies, love,” he says suddenly in perfect English. “I just get so into the role.”
Sighing, Ada shakes her head. “I still can’t believe you followed me all the way here, but not to help me. Why are you here, anyway?”
“I never said I wouldn’t help you, just not yet,” he winks. “Besides, someone’s just arrived who can assist you far better than I.”
“What, the tutor?” she shakes her head, scoffing. “That one’s got the backbone of a limp fish. I think he might collapse under the weight of a single secret.”
Kapov shrugs, pushing off the wall and sauntering back down the hall. “I wouldn’t turn down any help, if I were you. Brothers aren’t very easy to find, especially when they’ve disappeared into the bowels of the Volkov mansion. But, take it or leave it, love. I’ve got to head back to clean up. Cheerio!”
Fantasies of squishing his smug face flash tantalizingly behind her eyelids, but Ada wrestles the anger back down into a ball deep down inside, and expels all her emotions out into the world with just one word.
“Bastard.”
Comments