Elena, the Emperor's Envoy's Wife

By Evan G Andrew

Leaving St Petersburg in 1879 to travel across Russia to her sister’s estate, Elena needs a respectable travelling companion. A single chance encounter at the train station gives her an appropriate female companion, but also a potential lover, and eventually an unexpected husband.

Her onward journey across the Russian plains as wife of the Emperor’s envoy to the Viceroy’s court at Tiflis in the wild Caucasus, takes many dramatic turns as attacks by bandits, kidnappers and rebels take all of Elena’s courage to survive.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evan G Andrew
• Release date: Jul 16, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005894351

Evan G Andrew

Evan Andrew lives on the North Shore of Auckland, New Zealand and is a widely-travelled historian who enjoys researching his books. An enthusiastic skier, tennis player and gardener, he also enjoys racing and breeding thoroughbreds.He has written several historical romances including The Spanish Woman, a stand-alone adventure story, and Shadows in the Night and Shadows of Doubt which are set in the Regency period after Waterloo. The last two are historical thrillers in which the heroine Julia unknowingly gets caught up between the Bourbon and Bonapartist factions, as well as in romantic entanglements from both sides.He has just finished writing a novel based around the Boxer rebellion in China.Evan works tirelessly to find new ways to promote indie published books.

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Elena

The Emperor’s Envoy’s Wife

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Evan G Andrew

Copyright 2022 Evan G Andrew

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DEDICATION

For Annmarie, who was with me in spirit,

and for Briar who was there

***

The most difficult thing, but an essential one, is to love life: to love it even while one suffers, because life is all, life is God and to love life means to love God.

Leo Tolstoy

Chapter One

St Petersburg 1879

‘Barishna, wait for me!’

Mouvra’s quavery voice was a command, not a plea, and Elena sighed with frustration at being kept waiting as the spring day outside beckoned with an urgency not to be denied. After the long winter, the early spring had been wet and dreary, and today felt for the first time like summer was just around the corner.

Since her mother’s death eighteen months ago, she had often left the apartment to explore the city while the maid was otherwise occupied. However, like her late mother, the old servant Mouvra thoroughly disapproved of her, or any young woman, going out into the streets on her own.

‘But I am not a child anymore,’ she would complain. ‘I’m twenty-seven, past the ingenue stage.’

The old woman would frown and mutter and shake her head, body taut with disapproval. Here she was now, shawl wrapped tightly about her tall angular body, headscarf in place, face set with grim determination.

‘It is not seemly, Barishna, as you very well know,’ she grumbled.

It was useless to argue, for as the sun streamed through the windows, all Elena wanted to do was go outside and feel the warmth on her skin.

Down the two flights of stairs, and then out to walk along the canal with the other pedestrians, until they came to the broad expanse of the river Neva. The busy scene of ships plying their trade on the white capped waves, while gulls circled overhead, as fleecy clouds sailed by, and the blue of the sea reflected in the sky, created a scene worthy of an artist’s brush.

They headed for the market place where Mouvra bought the food essentials, haggling and scornful by turns, until she got what she wanted. For Elena, it was a never-ending revelation watching her deal with the food sellers, to whom as a customer she felt herself superior, and didn’t hesitate to show it.

Having known Mouvra all her life, it always surprised Elena that for some reason there had never been any warmth or intimacy of any real kind between them. At times a grumbling murmur of approval or nod, but nothing else. She had been her mother’s maid and had served her with a devotion that excluded all else.

Katya, Elena’s pretty older sister, had fared better with Mouvra, until her marriage some twelve years ago.

Katya.

She had received the letter only yesterday, and when she returned home would re-read it, and answer it. It was now the end of May, and in another month…! Elena could feel the excitement rising inside her.

Every year since her sister’s marriage, the invitation had come to spend from early July until the end of August at Pourachino, their estate in the country. The novelty of the long journey by train, seeing the summer countryside in full bloom and watching her fellow passengers, made such a change from the humdrum existence of ordinary life. Then to finally arrive, where Grigor her brother-in-law, or Kuzma his manservant, would be there to meet them. The long carriage ride through the forest and fields until late, late in the evening, though it would still be light when they arrived. Katya and the children, plus all the household, old relatives of Grigor’s and elderly retainers, would be there to meet them, seated in wheelchairs or leaning on walking sticks. Dogs barking, children laughing and running around, all talking at once about what had happened over the last year since they had all seen one another.

This time though, Mouvra would not go with her. Instead, she was going back to her own village outside Archangel, to see her family there. It was the first time to Elena’s knowledge that the maid had ever left the household. However, her sisters had sent word, written by the priest, that a family gathering for the name day of her eldest brother aged eighty was to take place and after much discussion, it was agreed that she should go. Elena arranged to pay Mouvra’s costs for the visit, and she would return to St Petersburg when her mistress did.

But now, Elena would have to travel to Pourachino alone. And that was something Mouvra would not agree to. Neither would Grigor or Katya if they knew about it. Somehow, some way, she was going to have to find a way out of this impasse. The only possibilities appeared to be finding some respectable family to travel with, or acting as a companion to someone travelling the same route. Failing that, it would mean having to lie to Mouvra that she had a travel companion, bundle her off in her coach to the east, and then travel on alone to Pourachino, without telling her sister. After all she had done the trip for the last eleven years and knew it well, so what on earth could happen to her?

It was all too silly for words. She took one of the full baskets from Mouvra’s unwilling hands and they headed home.

The spring days melted into the golden days of summer, and knowing she could put it off no longer, Elena, with Mouvra in attendance, made her way to the railway station to obtain her ticket to Pourachino.

Unsurprisingly there was a queue. While they waited in the line there was a sudden scuffle, and people dispersed hurriedly as a well-dressed man fell to the ground, writhing and flaying his arms around, foam appearing from his mouth as he groaned and shook. Elena realized at once he was having a fit, having seen it happen once before when she was a young girl attending church with her mother.

Without thinking she stepped forward towards the unfortunate creature, as did another man ahead of her, while the rest of the people withdrew in horror. Remembering her mother’s actions, she knelt beside the man, and trying to avoid his arms, tried to undo the man’s neckcloth at his throat and loosen his shirt.

‘Here, let me help you. I can hold him.’

Gratefully Elena accepted the stranger’s help, while with trembling fingers she accomplished her task.

Just as suddenly as the drama had begun, it ceased, as the man became still, his eyes opening, frightened and confused as he regained consciousness.

‘You are alright now, it is over.’

Elena wiped the man’s face with her scarf, as her helper assisted the sick man to sit up, while speaking soothingly to him, asking his name and where he lived.

The man was about fifty, well-spoken, and said he would hire a carriage and return home. He was obviously embarrassed and used his hat to try and hide the dark stain on his trousers where his bladder had emptied.

As he hurried off after stammering his thanks, the stranger turned to Elena and introduced himself.

‘That was very good of you to do what you did to help that unfortunate individual. I am Petya Mammantov, Prince Achintov’s man of business. And you are, Barishna?’

‘Elena Antonov.’

He was a pleasant-looking man in his early forties.

‘I suppose we should get back in the queue. Where may I ask are you travelling to?’

‘I am going south to visit my sister and her family for the summer at Pourachino.’

‘Really? I am getting tickets for my employer’s governess and her young charges who are returning home to their estate in the south.’

Elena, on a sudden impulse, asked him on what date they were travelling.

It seemed too good to be true.

‘Mr. Mammantov, would it be possible for me to travel with your governess and her charges?’

He looked somewhat surprised, and with Mouvra behind her muttering at her forwardness, she explained the situation she was in.

His eyes travelled over her and Mouvra as she spoke, as if assessing her worth.

‘You will be travelling first class, so I am sure if I explain the matter with Miss Wilson, their English governess, she would only be too happy to have you accompany her. May I suggest you call upon her in a day or two and meet her? Does that suit you?’

He produced a card from his breast pocket with the address of Prince Achintov’s palace, and she offered her card to him in return. He glanced at it briefly, and beckoned her to precede him in the queue, which had now decreased considerably.

Once she had her ticket safely in her reticule, Elena said goodbye to Petya Mammantov, thanking him once more for his help and consideration. There had been no real intention on her part to travel first class, and it was more than she could afford, but there was simply no alternative if she wanted to go to Pourachino.

He raised his hat and swept her a bow as she moved off, with Mouvra trotting behind her still complaining.

‘Nonsense,’ said Elena triumphantly. ‘It is God’s will. Don’t you see, it has all worked out perfectly? You can now visit your family without worrying about me travelling alone, and I will be quite safe with Prince Achintov’s governess and the children.’

‘That’s if the Englishwoman will allow it.’

‘Of course she will. Why, Petya Mammantov could not have been more helpful. Besides I am sure she would like to have someone help her amuse the children during the long journey.’

‘Don’t be too sure,’ muttered the old woman.

Elena fumed but said nothing.

After this stroke of luck surely it would work out satisfactorily now. Katy and Grigor would be satisfied, and even Mouvra should be. The English were known to be standoffish, but Petya Mammantov would surely not have agreed to her proposal if he had any doubts about her suitability. Anyway, she had her ticket and was committed to go, accompanied or not.

Visit tomorrow? No, perhaps the day after would be better. It would give him time to speak to the governess and arrange matters with her.

The summer sun felt warm on her face, and determinedly she smiled at the maid.

‘Come, let us not quarrel. We will both have a wonderful summer holiday with our families, I promise you.’

The old woman said nothing, but her face softened, and she said no more.

Two days later in the early afternoon, Elena and Mouvra sallied forth into the busy street and hailed a droshky to take them to the Prince’s palace.

It was a warm day, and the smell of horse inside the cab caused Mouvra to sneeze as they clip-clopped over the cobblestones. They emerged into one of the most fashionable streets overlooking the Neva where there were a range of palaces all painted in the different colours that Peter the Great’s edict had insisted his nobles used. Pink, green, yellow, blue, red, they all looked so lovely with the river, trees, and blue sky as the backdrop.

The Achintov Palace was a yellow building trimmed with white and gold with gilded decorations. After alighting from the carriage, the two women climbed the entrance stairs and gained admission. While the liveried elderly majordomo went to inquire whether the governess was available they waited in the vestibule, until he reappeared followed by a small, very erect grey-haired woman in her fifties. In her hand she held Elena’s card.

‘Please do come with me,’ she said.

Elena followed her into a small drawing room off the hallway, while Mouvra waited in the vestibule.

‘Please be seated, Barishna. I am Augusta Wilson. Petya Mammantov told me about your predicament, of your wish to join me on our journey.’

The woman’s eyes took in every aspect of her, Elena felt, and the cool blue eyes seemed satisfied with what she saw.

‘I would be pleased to have you join me on the journey. My employer’s daughters – Sofka, ten, and Anna, twelve – will be travelling with us.’

‘That is what Mr. Mammantov explained to me, Miss Wilson.’

The two women chatted very briefly, and as the governess looked at her watch pinned on the front of her dress, Elena stood up and made her goodbyes, which seemed to relieve Miss Wilson as she hurried back to her charges.

Back outside in the sunshine, the same majordomo summoned a cab from across the street, and the two women made their way home.

Chapter Two

The last days before leaving St Petersburg were hectic. Summer blazed forth, and the temperature increased dramatically. The bright green leaves of the trees in the streets and parks along the river Neva and the canals had lost their early freshness, but the shade they provided was a welcome relief.

Walking along the beautiful Nevsky Prospect in the sunshine, Elena gazed in admiration at the fashionable shops with their rich and varied merchandise, tempting in the extreme. The magnificent furs, velvets, and bright and colourful winter luxuries had now given way to the change of season, and the beautiful Vologda lace, summer silks and linens, flowers, and games of amusement for the long days, (twenty-two hours of light, for the sun didn’t set until midnight) were beautifully displayed.

Last-minute gifts for the family were chosen with care and purchased, and regardless of the cost Elena decided to hire one of the bearded coachmen to convey them and their parcels home.

Up early the next day, Elena leaned out of the open window to catch the morning breeze coming in from the Gulf of Finland and breathed in deeply. It was going to be a hot day. Mouvra would shut up the apartment after she left until they both returned in September.

The Nikolayevsky Vokzal, as the station was called, was busy with people both coming and going as they alighted from the carriage. There seemed to be every nationality from Russia’s vast empire passing before their eyes. Blonde Slavs, amber Armenians, tall Georgians, pig-tailed Jews, bearded Cossacks, slant-eyed Tartars, Ukrainians, Uzbeks, Balts, Germans – a parade hurrying in every direction.

A Cossack porter grabbed her bags as she gave him her destination, and quickly they followed him through the maze of people and steam towards their train.

Arriving at the carriage she was to travel in, her bags were put on board, she paid the old baggage attendant, and turned to her maid.

‘I will say goodbye now, Mouvra, and take my seat. Travel safely to Archangel and enjoy your holiday with your family and I will see you in September on my return.’

She bent forward and kissed the withered cheek, but Mouvra wouldn’t leave.

‘I will stay until the Englishwoman and the children arrive.’

‘There really is no need.’ Elena shrugged helplessly, knowing there was no way the implacable maid would leave.

Just then, over her shoulder she saw a party arriving. The servants were wearing Prince Achintov’s livery and carrying the baggage, while behind them were the governess with two young girls, Petya Mammantov and another man.

‘It is all right Mouvra, here they come now.’

They stood back as the group approached and their luggage was put aboard.

Petya Mammantov stepped forward, extending his hand and smiling.

‘Ah, Barishna, it is a pleasure to see you again. Miss Wilson you have already met, and this is Pavel Dimitichikov, who is to manage Prince Achintov’s breeding and racing stables. He will be accompanying you.’

The olive-skinned gentleman removed his hat revealing thick dark hair. He bowed low over her extended hand while Elena curtsied as she was introduced.

Augusta Wilson spoke briskly. ‘We must board the train immediately. Sofka has already got a cinder in her eye, and I must attend to her.’

Elena noticed that the younger girl was holding a handkerchief up to her eye as the governess quickly assisted the girls on to the train.

‘Well, thank you once again Petya Mammantov. I cannot thank you enough for helping me the way you have. I really do appreciate it.’

‘My pleasure I assure you, Elena Antonov. I hope I have the opportunity of meeting you again in Petersburg when you return in the autumn.’

Her words of reply were drowned out as the train’s whistle blew. She climbed aboard and turned to smile and wave to Mouvra, waiting patiently for the train to depart, her face as stolid as ever.

Petya was still talking to Pavel Dimitchikov, heads together, deep in conversation.

There was another blast of noise as the train engine steamed up, and the whistle blew for the last time. There was a noisy clank of metal as the train shuddered and moved slightly.

Only then, moving with surprising agility, did the olive-skinned man leap up the steps into the train as it began to shudder forward to depart from the railway station, smoke billowing from the engine.

A porter slammed the door shut as they continued to shudder and shake moving slowly forward, until they picked up speed.

Elena continued to wave as Mouvra gradually disappeared from view. Aware of Pavel Dimitchikov now standing beside her, she turned, about to explain that it was her maid she was waving goodbye to, but he wasn’t looking at her at all. Instead he was gazing out, lost in deep concentration, not even aware of her presence.

For a moment longer she waited, then made her way