Синтия Хэррод-Иглз - Anna

He kissed the end of her cold nose. ‘As soon as I’ve got you dry. I’m going to put you to bed and give you a little hot supper, and then I expect you to sleep the clock round.’

‘You’re so kind to me.’ Her eyes smiled sleepily at him. ‘I don’t think I’ll find that at all difficult.’

The next morning, Anne was still asleep when Kirov set out from the inn to ride to headquarters and report. Scouts had already been up to the Sparrow Hill that morning to look down on the ruins of Moscow. The rain had extinguished most of the fire, leaving a blackened, smouldering mess of beams and rubble. About two thirds of the old city had been destroyed. It was a sobering thought.

‘It looks as though the Kremlin is more or less untouched, though,’ Toll told him, with a mixture of relief and regret. ‘So Napoleon will still have a palace to live in.’

‘What are the plans for us now? Do we stay here?’

‘Not if our Tolly can help it. We need to be still further west, so that we can cover the two Kaluga roads. Napoleon still thinks we’re heading for Ryazan, but once that ruse falls through, he’s bound to think of Kaluga. We’re going to press the Old Man to push on across country to Troitskoye. It’s between the Old and the New Kaluga Roads, so we can cover them both from there, at a pinch.’

‘It’ll be hard travelling in this weather.’

‘Fathoms of mud,’ Toll agreed with a grin. ‘His Excellency’s favourite going! We’ll try to get him to order the move for tomorrow morning. I don’t suppose there’s any chance of winkling him out today.’

As Kirov was leaving, one of the Prince’s aides, Colonel Kaissarov, came through the room and nodded a distant greeting, and then paused at the door to say casually. ‘Oh, Kirov, by the way – did that messenger find you?’ Kirov looked puzzled. ‘There was a messenger looking for you – civilian – some kind of artisan, from Serpukhov I think.’

Serpukhov was on the Tula road. ‘No, no I didn’t get the message,’ Kirov said.

Kaissarov turned away, saying indifferently, ‘I expect one of the company clerks has it.’ The Prince’s inner circle tended to have a short way with outsiders.

Kirov was back at the inn in the early afternoon, and hurried up to their rooms, sure of bringing Anne news that would cheer her. He found her in the sitting-room, crouched over the fire, which was burning better today, now that the chimney had warmed up.

‘I’ve got a letter for you,’ he greeted her cheerfully, bending over to kiss her cheek. It felt burning hot under his lips, and he straightened to look down at her with consternation. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks painted with fever. ‘You’re ill! What is it, love?’ he said, alarmed.

‘I seem to have caught a cold, I’m afraid,’ she said. ‘Nothing to worry about, Nikolasha. What is this letter? From whom?’

‘It was addressed to me and sent to headquarters,’ he said, unconvinced, but allowing himself to be sidetracked. ‘But when I broke the wafer, I found it was really meant for you. Someone’s been using his wits about the surest way to find you.’

Her face lit. ‘From Jean-Luc? News of Rose?’

He gave it to her, and she turned to the firelight to read it.

First of all, it said, I must tell you that we got safely away. No one troubled us in the least. We reached Podolsk by evening; now I have moved on to Serpukhov.

A family has taken us in – very kind – the Belinskis. He owns a furniture factory; she thinks 1 am clever and amusing. They have a daughter, fifteen, who longs to go on the stage, and a son, eighteen, who longs to join the army: they beg me to tell my adventures over and over. I am very popular as you can imagine!

We are comfortable here, and they love Rose, so 1 don’t see any point in going on further. I shall wait here for news.

We heard that the French took Moscow; and today we heard that it was burning. I pray you both got safely away. I tell Rose you certainly did, but pray send word soon to reassure her. She is well and happy. They have given her a white kitten, and Belinski fils is teaching her the piano.

I send this care of Count Kirov as being the surest way. Everyone always knows where the army is; and he will surely know where you are.Adieu! – De Berthier.

Anne read and re-read this unsatisfactory epistle. There were a hundred things she wanted to know; but at least Rose was safe, and being cared for. The letter was typical of him, she thought, trying to read what was unwritten, between the lines. What had he told these Belinskis? How had he explained his relationship with Rose? Had he hidden the fact that he was French? It maddened her to have to leave her precious child in that man’s protection, and under his influence.

‘Did you read it?’ she asked Nikolai. He nodded. ‘It’s good to know they are safe, at least; but I wish he had gone on to Tula.’

‘Does it occur to you, love, that if he did that, he might find himself separated from Rose? I’m not sure that he would be entirely welcome at the Davidovs’. I don’t suppose Shoora would understand about him and Basil, but Vsevka might thank him and firmly show him the door, especially since he has two unmarried young females in the house.’

‘Yes, Lolya and Kira. He would not care to have them associate with such a man.’

‘By remaining where he is, he can stay with Rose, and tell them what he likes.’

Anne sighed. ‘I’m sure you’re right. We must go and fetch her as soon as possible. Now that her father’s dead – and there’s another thing: how can I tell him about Basil? How can I tell Rose?’

‘I don’t know,’ he said gravely. ‘I think, for the moment, it is better to leave things alone. Send them some non-committal word which will satisfy them for the moment, until we can – Anna? Are you all right?’

She shivered, feeling herself first hot, then cold. ‘I think I have a little of a fever,’ she said.

He touched her brow. ‘I think you have a lot of fever,’ he said, alarmed. ‘I think you had better go straight back to bed.’

Her limbs ached, and the thought of lying down was very tempting. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘perhaps I will.’ But she found she couldn’t get up; Nikolai had to carry her into the bedroom.

The following morning, the army moved out from Podolsk to march the twelve miles or so to Troitskoye. Count Kirov was not with them. Anne’s temperature had climbed all through the day, and by the evening she was plainly very unwell. Adonis, despatched to headquarters in search of a doctor, came back with General Tolly’s personal physician, sent by that kindly soldier with a note expressing his concern.

The physician diagnosed an influenza, and Kirov, whose mind had been running on typhus, smallpox and other such horrors, drew a sigh of relief. ‘Thank heaven!’ he said, and almost smiled.

‘An influenza is not to be taken lightly,’ the doctor reproved him sternly.

‘No, no of course not,’ Kirov murmured, quickly straightening his face.

‘A young and healthy person, with good nursing, should recover from it without permanent disability. But you must take no chances. These are bad times – a lot of infection about, and winter coming on! And there is always pneumonia to think of, my dear sir!’

‘Yes, indeed. I shall be very careful.’

The doctor looked a little mollified. ‘Make sure she’s kept warm at all times, and quiet. Saline draughts until the fever breaks, and then a light diet for the first week. After that, as much nourishing food as she can take. You’ll find she’s rather pulled by it – convalescence can be slow. But in a month or six weeks – I think in two months’ time you may find she is quite herself again.’