Archer’s voice grew louder. “Vladislav doesn’t know how to do a decent day’s work. He’s lucky he has a job. You’re lucky you have a job.” Osip began to protest, but Archer cut him off and kept talking. “You’d be out on the streets without this. You may still be out on the streets if I decide you’re more trouble than you are worth.”
“Just you wait!” Osip shouted. “Revolution is coming—then we’ll all have apartments of our own and all the food we want to eat.”
Archer laughed. “You fool! No one is going to just give you an apartment.”
“You wait.” I heard Osip stomping away.
I didn’t think Archer would actually fire Osip. He’d have to hire someone else, and he was very particular about who worked in the house. Although there were certainly plenty of men needing work, Archer wouldn’t hire anyone who didn’t fit his idea of the perfect servant. He did give too many tasks to Osip, but since my stepfather left Archer in complete control of running the house, it was one area neither my mother nor I had ever tried to intervene in.
I knocked on the door to the library and then went in. It smelled so strongly of cigars I wanted to open all the windows and let the room air out. Without my mother around to protest, Papa smoked far too many cigars. He sat at his desk, writing in his usual slow and careful way, a cigar sitting in an ashtray next to him.
“Good morning. How is the writing going?” I asked, praying he would not confuse me with my mother again.
He looked up. “Lottie! I suppose you are off to the hospital? I’m happy to report that the writing is going very, very well. I’ve finished the war with Turkey.” He didn’t slur any of his words and he seemed like his old self.
“Wonderful!” I said as I pulled up a chair.
For a moment he seemed a bit taken aback by my enthusiasm, and then he smiled. “It’s a most interesting time period. It seems like it all happened just yesterday, though most people would consider 1878 a long time ago.”
1878. That meant Papa had almost forty more years to cover in the memoir. At least he’d have something to occupy him for a long time.
“1878, you say? You would have been about Dmitri Antonovich’s age then, wouldn’t you?” I asked. “Is Dmitri related to Prince Shulga?” Not the smoothest transition, but my stepfather loved talking about family connections almost as much as he loved talking about battles.
My ploy worked. “A cousin by marriage,” Papa said. “Dmitri Antonovich is the great-nephew of the prince’s brother-in-law, Count Lieven.”
I tried to untangle the meaning of that while Papa continued to talk.
“The boy has a sad history. His parents and siblings died of cholera in the 1910 epidemic.”
My throat tightened. Dmitri had lost his entire family. I’d heard about the cholera epidemic. That was a year before we’d come to Russia, but people still talked about it because so many had died. I’d never heard of anyone who’d lost their whole family. That would be like being plunged into a bottomless pit. I didn’t even want to think of the horror of it. How had he survived?
I realized my stepfather was still speaking. “And then, after the count’s own grandson died, Dmitri Antonovich became his heir, so the count arranged for the boy to take his grandson’s place in the Horse Guard. The family has always had someone serving in that regiment.”
I forced myself to focus on what my stepfather was saying. It explained why Dmitri’s university career had been cut short, but it didn’t explain everything. “Why does he want to tutor? I’d think he’d recover much faster at home. Or he could be working in a staff position for his regiment. Don’t they find desk jobs for injured soldiers?”
“I don’t know. Something about a problem with the officer in charge of the regimental office who has a grudge against the count.”
Archer’s voice from the doorway startled me. “Baron Eristov is here to see you, General.”
My heart skipped a beat. The baron had never come to the house before, as far as I knew.
Before my stepfather could respond, loud voices came from upstairs. “I want to go first!” Hap shouted.
“I’m already here!” Stepan shouted back. I hurried out the door to tell them not to yell, but as I came into the hall I heard glass breaking. I saw the baron by the door, and then a motion made me glance up. Hap dropped something made of rope over the railing on the upper landing. It hit the floor along with the sound of more glass breaking. He swore. Stepan leaned so far over the railing I thought he might fall.
“What are you doing?” I tried not to shriek. I don’t know when I’d taken up shrieking as a means of communication, but I found myself resorting to it all too often.
The boys came pounding down the stairs.
“A physics experiment,” Stepan said. “We’re supposed to figure out a way to cushion the fall enough so the glasses won’t break.” He picked up a small contraption made of sticks and string that vaguely resembled a misshapen birdcage. “Mine worked better than Hap’s. My glass only broke into four pieces.”
“Where is Dmitri Antonovich?” I asked.
“He had to go out,” Stepan replied. “I already know how I can modify mine.”
Archer gave the loudest sigh I’d ever heard. “I’ll get Zarja to clean up,” he said.
“Don’t put on that face, Lottie,” Hap said. “We’re doing something very educational. You should be pleased.”
Osip burst out laughing and then covered his mouth, still shaking with mirth.
“Hello, Baron. That’s true, Lottie,” Papa said as he walked over and picked up Hap’s contraption. “It is educational, though rather an unconventional way to learn. Very clever. A little adaptation will make it better. More rope wrapped around, perhaps.”
Before he could add anything to his evaluation, screams erupted from the upper floor. The twins. Their screams were unmistakable.
“Is something wrong?” the baron asked.
“Just our little sisters,” Hap said. “They scream a lot.” This was true. He pointed at one part of his rope bundle. “I guess I didn’t add enough here.”
I realized something odd. Someone was missing.
“Where’s Miles?” I asked.
“He wrote a new story he’s reading to the twins,” Stepan said.
I went toward the stairs, my irritation rising. “He’s not supposed to read them his stories. They get frightened.” They actually became so terrified they’d have trouble sleeping and then they’d end up in my bed. The way they flopped around would keep me awake all night.
“Don’t act like an old lady, Lottie. They like his stories,” Hap said. “You’re turning into Elder Red.” He laughed. “Dmitri was surprised to find out you were a few months younger than him. He thought you were old, like twenty-five. We told him you used to be fun, but I’m not sure he believed that.”
“Yes, old,” Stepan echoed. “People like to be scared,” he added, “and Miles is really good at scaring.”
The screaming grew louder, and then I heard a door open upstairs. The twins came into view, running along the landing and then dashing down the stairs, looking behind them as they ran. It was a miracle they didn’t take a misstep and fall. I yelled, trying to get them to slow down. They didn’t, and when they reached me, they grabbed my skirts, trying to hide behind them.