There it was again. That subtle look that passed between him and her like an exhale of breath. Soft, undetectable, yet laced with possibilities. What might have happened if they’d been able to continue their dance earlier? Would they finally have known what it was like to share a breath?
Sergey cleared his throat, drawing attention back to him, and resumed his recounting. “From a few of the survivors who remembered your descriptions, I was able to trace you to an Alexander Nevsky Cathedral where the priest said he’d married you in November. Imagine my surprise.”
His lips pinched beneath his black mustache. Longing and sadness mingled in his eyes as they lingered on Svetlana, hundreds of hours of memories spent together lost in them.
“I would be a liar to say I was not shocked and saddened at the news that your precious hand had slipped from mine, much as it did that day on the train platform, but I forced myself to overcome my own feelings and rejoice that you were alive. That is all that truly matters to me.”
The past held too many what-ifs and Sergey’s sudden appearance brought them all rushing back to the surface. A future she had once been destined to. She could no longer afford to mourn. Life had moved on.
With this new life came suspicion of the old one trailing her. “Do you recall the names of the people you spoke to?”
“Peasants mostly. I didn’t bother asking their names. Why do you ask?”
“I only wonder if it was some of the same people we lived with at the church.” Or a crooked club owner who sheltered the evilness of communism to his own advantage. “We left rather in a hurry.”
“So the priest informed me when he gave me your address.”
Wynn stepped closer, the dancing flames shadowing havoc across his impassible expression.
“We didn’t give the priest our address. Considering the name Dalsky is being hunted by the Bolsheviks, it was best to keep such information hidden.”
Sergey dipped a finger behind the folds of his necktie to his scratch at his neck. “Pardon me for misspeaking. What I meant was, the priest told me you were a physician at the hospital, so naturally I went there. One of your colleagues was able to send me in the correct direction, but as I was telling the ladies, my timing proved to be a stroke of bad luck, and I was forced to continue my journey to Britain. Once here, there was little difficulty in finding the Duke of Kilbride’s estate. I’m only sorry to have disturbed what appeared to be a remarkable evening.”
He tried to cover his pain, but the half-hearted smile fluttering across his mouth wasn’t an adequate mask. Guilt sliced through Svetlana. Once she might have shared a life with him. A marriage of companionship and understanding and comfort, which was more than most couples could expect. She might have tried for more, to love him, but she never would have fallen in love with him. Now friendship and refuge were all she could offer him. With Wynn, however, something wonderful stirred between them, something promising more than mere companionship.
“You must be exhausted from your journey,” she said, her words falling flat against the startling surprise of his arrival. “We’ll speak again tomorrow, but for now I’ll have you shown to your room.” She rose to ring the bell pull for Glasby, but Sergey waved her back down.
“I’m afraid there’s one last thing I must impart. My heart dreads the telling, but if there is anyone who should tell you, I hope you find comfort that it is from an old friend.” Eyeing them each in turn, he fidgeted with the buttons on his jacket. An unusual tic for one so confident as Sergey.
“On the night you escaped Petrograd, the White Army made a stand at Palace Square in front of the Winter Palace. The man I was imprisoned with was there when it happened. He told me what he saw. The soldiers fought bravely but were not enough against the Red Army. Those not killed in action were dragged to the river and executed. Colonel Dalsky and Nikolai among them.”
Mama screamed and wilted into her chair. Marina sobbed. Svetlana sat unable to move as the blinding force of devastation sank through her like a stone. In her heart she’d known. She’d tried desperately to hold on to bits of hope despite reconciling herself to never seeing her beloved father and brother again this side of eternity. Yet to hear her deepest fear spoken aloud was enough to flay open her raw heart.
A tear slid down her cheek. Then another. She dashed them away and tucked in the lashed strips of her heart to tend at a later time when she could allow the sorrow to drown her. Rising, she crossed to her mother and slipped her arms around her.
Mama rocked away with a wail. “Dead! I always knew it. Gone forever.”
“Mama, you must calm down.”
“I will rage if I wish! Just because you do not have the heart to mourn for love doesn’t mean I don’t.”
Svetlana bit back an angry retort as tears scalded her eyes. “Marina, help me get her to her chambers.”
Tears streaming down her young face, Marina took hold of their mother’s left arm while Svetlana took the right and together they hauled the sobbing woman from her chair.
Sergey hovered like a bird with wings unsure of its flight. “Can I do anything?”
Svetlana didn’t answer. She didn’t have the soundness of mind to think on what he could do. The edges of her mind blackened down to a single focal point of preservation. Get her mother upstairs, see to her family first, and then and only then could she crumble.
Turning she found Wynn standing next to her with arms open at his sides. As if he were waiting for her to find him. He took one look at her face and dropped his arms.
“Get her settled. I’ll bring laudanum.”
It was like wrestling a boneless cat up the stairs as it screeched and howled on each step. Once in her chamber, Mama flung herself onto the bed with a wail, clutching her cross necklace. Svetlana and Marina sat on either side of her, but their mother curled into a ball like a child and cried with great wracking sobs. They had to hold her down as Wynn administered the laudanum, Marina crying the entire time.
At last Mama’s sobs quieted to a pitiful sleep as she still clutched her cross. Silvery tracks of tears shone down her face and blotched her silk bodice. Svetlana pulled a coverlet over her mother before turning to gather Marina into her arms. Her sister’s fresh bout of tears soaked through the front of Svetlana’s dress. Helpless, Svetlana held her tight and murmured nonsense words of comfort that fell coldly across her own embattled soul.
Pressing her cheek to the top of Marina’s head, Svetlana found Wynn standing quietly at the foot of the bed. Solid, sure, unmoving. A tear trickled from her eye. Wynn moved toward her, his arms reaching out.
“Please don’t,” she whispered.
He stopped, expression pained, and dropped his arms for the second time that night when she needed him most. She couldn’t allow him to touch her. If he did, she would give in to the overwhelming tumult of sadness and splinter apart. She had no doubt his arms were strong enough to catch all of her dissolving pieces, but not now. For a short time longer, her pieces must remain intact to comfort what remained of her family.
He left, quietly shutting the door behind him. Svetlana hugged her sister tighter, and as Wynn’s footsteps faded away, a piece of her heart broke away and shattered.
* * *
Snow fell heavy from the sky, blotting out the weakened rays of sun creeping over the distant horizon. The white drifts thickened around the castle walls to muffle the early morning floor creaks and crackles of glass frosting over. Wynn stood outside Svetlana’s chamber with every thought centered on the woman within. His hand raised to knock.