The Property of a Lady - Elizabeth Adler [30]
Nurse Milgrim grinned. Missie was in one of her sharp moods this morning. You couldn’t put anything over on her: She always knew when the jolly smile covered up the fact that she’d had a fight with her boyfriend or that she had been on night duty for two weeks and was worn to a frazzle. “You’ve got such beautiful hair, Missie,” she remarked, stroking the brush lovingly through the long silken strands. “The silver surely brings out the color of your eyes. They look like violets.”
“Violets?” Missie said dreamily. “Oh, no, it was Anouska who wore the violets. If I close my eyes I can smell them now….”
“Anouska, mmm? Well, I bet her hair wasn’t as pretty as yours. You must have been quite something when you were a girl. I’ll bet all the boys were after you.”
“No boys,” Missie said. “They were all men … four of them.” She sighed. “And the only one I didn’t marry was the one I really loved. My first love.”
“They say first love is the truest,” Nurse Milgrim said, staring curiously at her in the mirror. “It’s a pity, then, you didn’t marry him?”
Missie closed her eyes and said, “He died. It happened too long ago to really matter anymore.”
Nurse Milgrim glanced at her as she fastened her hair into her usual chignon. Her eyes were still closed and despite what Missie had just said, she could tell by her face it really did still matter.
“I’m sorry, Missie,” she said quickly. “I’ll tell you what, why don’t I just go and fix you a nice cup of Earl Grey tea? That’s the kind you like, isn’t it? I’ll be right back now.”
Missie heard the door close and once again she was alone with her thoughts. But what was she thinking of, rambling on about Anouska like that? Was she losing her brains after all? She supposed it was just because it was on her mind. She must be more careful, especially after what she had just seen on television. Milgrim might have remembered the name Anouska and put two and two together. And now she was so afraid for Anna. Where was she? Why didn’t she telephone? She sighed deeply. When all this had begun she had not realized it would never end. If Yeventlov had not found them in the forest, she wouldn’t be here today and the Ivanoff treasure would simply have disappeared, just like so many others.
Russia
She had awoken to find herself wallowing in the warm depths of a soft goosedown quilt. She was wearing a clean pink flannel nightgown, and her feet and hands were tingling with fiery pins and needles as blood and life returned to them. Firelight flickered on the wooden walls and there was the soft murmur of voices close by. She stared around her bewilderedly. Sofia was sitting at the table in the center of the room, straight-backed as ever, sipping hot tea from a glass. Viktor was drying off in front of the blazing stove, his long fur smelling like a flock of wet sheep, and little Xenia was chatting gaily in English to five small, sallow children who were staring at her as if she were the ninth wonder of the world. She realized that this must be the stationmaster’s house, and the memories suddenly flooded back. She began to tremble and tears trickled down her cheeks.
“Stay where you are,” Madame Yeventlov said quietly. “You are safe for the moment. My husband found you in the forest and brought you here. I will make you some tea and then later, when you feel better, you shall have some of my good soup.” Her brown eyes held a depth of sympathy and Missie understood she knew what had happened.
She sipped the tea, concentrating on each sweet scalding sip as it slid down her throat without melting the ice that still gripped her heart. She remembered lying in the snow and wanting to die as the captain had ridden off with Alexei. Solovsky, Solovsky, she thought, anguished, his name burning itself into her brain. She supposed that shock must have slowed her heartbeat. Her limbs had grown heavy and