Page 35 of The Unseen
“No, Mr. Camden, she wasn’t, not that it’s any of your business.”
“Thank you. Have a good day. And please, ring me if you think of anything that might be important.” Drew handed Jesse Holt his card and held the door open for Quinn. They stepped out into the street.
“Why did you ask him if Quentin was a virgin?” Quinn demanded as they strolled toward the train station.
“I just wanted to get a clearer picture of your sister at that age.”
“Many girls are sexually active by seventeen, so what does that tell you about her?”
“Nothing, but the information might prove useful later on in the investigation.”
“In what way?”
“I’ll tell you when I figure it out.”
EIGHTEEN
AUGUST 1917
Pulkovo, Russia
Valentina threw off the covers and stretched luxuriously. She’d slept deliciously well, despite the heat. All the windows were wide open to capture even the slightest breeze and the cool caress of a country morning felt wonderful on her face. A rooster crowed in the distance, and she heard the hushed voices of Masha and Polina as they went about preparing breakfast. Tanya was still asleep next to Valentina, her mouth slightly open as she made funny noises. Tanya’s arms and legs were covered in mosquito bites, but Valentina’s skin was unblemished. For some reason, the bloodsuckers weren’t drawn to her. Elena said mosquitoes were only attracted to people who had sweet blood.I guess I’m sour then, Valentina thought gratefully, amused by the fact that in this instance it was a blessing.
She slid out of bed and went to stand by the window. She wore only a thin cotton nightgown, but there was no danger of anyone seeing her. The house was situated well outside the village, so there was no chance of anyone walking past. The morning was perfect, the sky a salmon pink as the sun began to rise into the cloudless sky. The grass sparkled with dew, the green of the stalks lush and vibrant. Valentina wished she could go outside barefoot and run through the meadow in her nightclothes. What a fuss her mother would kick up if she were caught. She’d done that once when she was about eleven, and it had been glorious. What wonderful, carefree days she’d enjoyed then. But now everything was different.
After nearly six months of living with daily uncertainty, Valentina had stopped believing life could ever be normal again. The Tsar and his family had recently been transferred from their apartments at Alexander Palace to Tobolsk, a move that didn’tbode well for the royal family. The provisional government was still in place, but a new political party had gained power over the past few months. They were known as the Bolsheviks, the moniker literally meaning “the Majority,” and there were also the Mensheviks—“the Minority.” The Bolsheviks were calling for an immediate end to the war with Germany and demanding bread for the workers and land for the peasants. Their ultimate goal was to do away with the nobility and completely eradicate the ruling class. The Bolsheviks wanted class equality and state-controlled distribution of assets. Her father said this absurd and impractical system was called socialism. It all sounded far-fetched and frightening. What would happen to the aristocracy if the Bolsheviks seized control and instituted their ideas? How would her family live, and what would happen to all their possessions? Would they be taken away and given to the poor?
Already things were changing, even within the household. Several servants had deserted them in the past few months, refusing to work for the bourgeoisie, and even the governess, Olga Alexandrovna, had started behaving in a less respectful manner, having suddenly realized that the Kalinins weren’t her betters. They were wealthy and titled, to be sure, but not in any way morally or intellectually superior. The family hadn’t visited Tsarskoye Selo even once this summer. The Royal Village was virtually deserted, most nobles choosing to either remain in Petrograd to keep an eye on their homes and possessions, or retreating to smaller and less ostentatious country estates to bide the summer months. There was a general feeling of oppression and doom in the city, and when Count Petrov and Ivan came to visit their families, they looked gray and tense.
Valentina got dressed in a simple cotton dress and let herself out of the room. She didn’t bother to put on stockings, since no one could see her legs beneath the long skirt. It was too hot to bother with such social constraints. Vera Konstantinovna Petrova, her future mother-in-law, was already in the dining room, sipping a cup of tea. She was flawlessly dressed, as usual, and her silver-streaked hair was pinned atop her head, but the sophisticated hairstyle and fashionable gown didn’t distract from her recentweight loss or the new lines etched on her face. There were deep grooves alongside her pursed mouth, and a trio of parallel lines marring her forehead.
“Good morning, Aunt Vera,” Valentina said as she took a seat at the table. “You’re up early.”
“I couldn’t sleep. Too hot, I suppose.”
Valentina knew the reason Vera Konstantinovna couldn’t sleep was because she was worried about Alexei. No one had seen him since June, when he’d managed to get a two-day furlough and come see his parents and Valentina’s family. Alexei had appeared to be physically well, but like everyone else, he was tense and irritable. He’d looked leaner and older, Valentina had thought as she’d studied him across the supper table while he filled them in on the latest news. He’d eaten more than usual during those two days and had chewed his food quickly, as if he feared someone would take it away from him if he didn’t eat fast enough. He hadn’t said so outright, but it was evident that the rations had been cut and the men weren’t getting enough food or rest. Everyone was on guard and in a constant state of preparedness for whatever might come. Vera Konstantinovna had cried when Alexei said his goodbyes before returning to town. She was terrified she’d never see her son again, so Alexei sent a brief note whenever he could, reassuring everyone that he was alive and well.
Valentina accepted a boiled egg from Masha, buttered a slice of bread, and poured herself a glass of fresh milk. They ate simply when they were in the country, not standing on ceremony as they did at home. She preferred it this way. It was easier to get up early, have her breakfast, and sneak off for a long walk before anyone else woke up. She was tired of the inevitable discussions, her mother’s tearful laments, her father’s dogged reassurances, and the Petrovs’ tight-lipped stoicism. Even the children were subdued, reading and playing card games instead of playing outside all day long and going swimming.
Tanya and Svetlana, Alexei’s sister, spent much time sitting beneath a tree out back, their heads bent over a book, while Kolyakept close to Petr. He enjoyed being around the horses and preferred to keep out of the way of the adults, who were constantly reprimanding him and urging him to read a book instead of skulking in the stable.
Valentina finished her breakfast, bid Vera Konstantinovna a good morning, and slipped out of the house. She didn’t dare go far, but it was nice to be alone. She took off her shoes and walked through the meadow, enjoying the cool dampness of the grass. Had things been different, she would be in the midst of planning her wedding, but no one had even mentioned the possibility of her and Alexei getting married this autumn, as they’d initially planned. Perhaps they’d get married next year, once things settled down a bit.
She wiped an angry tear from her cheek. Who was she kidding? Nothing was about to settle down. This was the new normal, and their lives would never be what they once were. There’d be no more balls or evenings at the theater. There’d be no more sleigh rides through the endless white expanse of freshly fallen snow, and no more peals of carefree laughter as the bells jingled on the horses’ harnesses and made music of their own. They hardly went out anymore, keeping close to home for fear of being set upon by angry revolutionaries. They’d suddenly become an object of resentment and hatred—a target.
Valentina drew up short when she saw a figure in the distance. The man was walking along the road, a small satchel in his hand. He wore simple brown trousers, boots, and a collarless linen shirt. He looked like a peasant, but Valentina’s heart gave a leap of joy and she took off running toward the man in a very unladylike manner.
“Alyosha!” she cried as she hurled herself into his arms. He’d dropped his satchel when he saw her, and it remained in the dirt of the road as he held her close for just a moment before propriety demanded they pull apart. “What are you doing here?”
“I got two days, Valya. I caught a ride on a farm wagon leaving Petrograd. The farmer dropped me off just down the road. I’m so glad to see you. You look well.”
“You look like a peasant.”
“Best not to draw attention to oneself these days. My uniform is at the barracks. Is there any food? I’m famished.”
Valentina grabbed Alexei by the hand and pulled him along. “There are eggs, freshly baked bread, and milk. And of course tea. We’ve been eating simply this summer. Lots of herring and boiled potatoes, and cold borscht with sour cream.”
“My mother must be in a state. She never allowed ‘peasant food’ at the table at home.”
