Quietly he moved up beside her and stood looking out at the same view, but without seeing it. The tiredness he had hoped for earlier surrounded him now, weighing down his shoulders.
“I leave a woman here in the security of my own home and return to find she has been put through hell. Why, Aunt Sonya? Nothing Katherine could have done could have warranted such treatment.”
Sonya was relieved by his soft tone, and deceived into thinking he wasn’t as upset as had been reported. “You told me she wasn’t important, Mitya,” she reminded him.
He sighed. “Yes, I did say that, in anger, but did that give you the right to abuse her? I also told you she wasn’t your concern. Why in God’s name did you involve yourself?”
“I found her coming out of your room. I thought she might have stolen something from you.”
He turned toward her incredulously. “Steal from me? Oh, Christ! Steal from me! She has refused everything I have tried to give her. She spits on my wealth.”
“How could I have known that? I only wanted to have her searched. The matter would have ended there if she hadn’t turned so belligerent about it. How could I ignore such rudeness to me in front of the servants?”
“She is a free woman, an Englishwoman. She isn’t subject to the archaic rules and customs of this country.”
“Who is she then, Mitya?” Sonya demanded. “Who is she besides your mistress?”
“She’s not my mistress. I wish she were, but she’s not. I don’t really know who she is, probably some English lord’s bastard, but that doesn’t matter. She plays the role of a grand lady, true, but I tolerate it. She had no reason to suppose she need modify her attitude here, even for you. But most important she was under my protection. Sweet Christ, Aunt Sonya, she is such a tiny, delicate woman. Didn’t it occur to you that such a beating could have damaged her permanently? Crippled her even?”
“It might have, if she had shown even a modicum of delicacy, but she didn’t. Just three days after her beating she was racing across the countryside on the back of a horse.”
“An act of desperation.”
“Nonsense, Mitya. It was only a little beating. If she had really been hurt by it, she wouldn’t have been capable—”
“Not hurt!” he exploded, finally giving Sonya a glimpse of his true emotional state. “Come with me!”
He took her wrist and pulled her behind him up the stairs and into the White Room, where he threw open the door to the bathchamber. Katherine shrieked, sinking down into the water, but Dimitri crossed to the rub and firmly lifted her up, presenting her back to Sonya. He got a soapy washcloth slapped across his neck and chest for the trouble.
“Damn you, Alexandrov—”
“I’m sorry, little one, but my aunt was under the illusion that she hadn’t really hurt you.”
He set her back down in the water and quickly closed the door, though he could still hear Katherine’s furious disclaimer. “I’m fine now, you dolt! I told you that! You think a St. John can’t tolerate a little pain?”
He didn’t have to labor the point with Sonya. She had paled as much as he had upon seeing the result of her handiwork. He took her elbow and led her out of the room, but stopped at the top of the stairs.
“It was my intention, Aunt Sonya, to leave Katherine here at Novii Domik for several weeks until—well, the reason isn’t important. But that is still my intention. Under the circumstances, I think it would be best if you visited one of your nieces for a while.”
“Yes, I’ll leave today… Mitya, I didn’t realize… She seemed so sturdy, despite… I know that is no excuse—” She hurried away, unable to finish, unable to face Dimitri’s condemnation a moment longer.
She was like so many nobles of the old school, committing atrocities in a moment of anger, regretting it later, when it was too late.
“No, that is no excuse. Aunt Sonya,” Dimitri murmured bitterly to himself. “There is no excuse.”
Chapter Thirty-two
Monday
My Lord Prince,
As soon as you departed for Moscow, the young miss left her bed and would not return to it under any circumstances (her words, my lord). She spent the remainder of the day in the garden, pruning and weeding and cutting flowers for the house. The flowers are everywhere now, in every room. There are none left in the garden.
Her attitude has not changed. She will not speak to me at all. She speaks to the maids only to tell them to leave her alone. Marusia has had no luck either in getting her to talk. She wouldn’t go near the account books you left for her to work on.
Your servant,
Vladimir Kirov
