The Shadow of Tyburn Tree (59 page)

Giving him a polite good-morning, they asked if they might have the pleasure of attending him to his second marriage ceremony.

Roger was somewhat surprised at their couching their proposal to accompany him in the form of a request, as he had a shrewd suspicion that the two young men were among the few people who knew that he had incurred the Empress's displeasure, and that she had ordered them to keep an eye on him. In any case he did not feel that he was in a position to refuse their offer, so he accepted with a good grace and went downstairs with them.

He had expected that he and Natalia would be sent in to St. Petersburg together, and that he would at last be called on to face a
tête-à-tête
with his wife; but it transpired that she was to follow him in a separate carriage with two of the ladies who had attended her the previous day. So Roger and his companions got into a four-horse barouche, and at a spanking pace set out to cover the sixteen miles to the capital.

Having as yet not the faintest idea as to the procedure adopted towards people exiled to Siberia, Roger thought this
a good opportunity to secure some information on it, so he remarked:

‘I little expected, gentlemen, when you brought me from the Fortress of Schlüsselburg four days ago, that I should leave the Peterhof in such pleasant circumstances. It seemed far more likely that I should leave it but to be conveyed back to my cell, or as a prisoner on his way to exile.'

Having waited for their laugh, he went on: ‘Had the latter proved my fate I take it that you would hardly have been put to the inconvenience of escorting me further than Petersburg, and that there you would have handed me over to the police for transportation to Siberia.'

They both looked at him in surprise, and the taller of the two answered. ‘You are mistaken, Sir. None but felons and people of the baser sort, sentenced to work in the mines, are transported thither by the police. Persons of quality are simply ordered by the Empress to take up their residence there in a specific place, or, more generally, in a town of their own choosing; they then make their own arrangements for the journey.'

This was the best news Roger had had since his return from Finland. Apparently it meant that, if Mr. Tooke remained adamant in his refusal to help, once he was clear of St. Petersburg he would be able to change his course and drive hell-for-leather for the Polish or Austrian frontier. Concealing his elation, he said:

‘In that case what surety has Her Majesty that those she banishes will ever go to Siberia? It seems that, without her knowledge, they might quite well take another direction and go into comfortable retirement on some country estate.'

The tall man shook his head. ‘For a Russian to even contemplate disobeying a direct order from Her Majesty is unthinkable.'

‘But in the case of a foreigner, such as myself,' Roger hazarded.

‘You would soon be brought to book,' laughed his informant. ‘The chief of police in every town and district keeps a record of all persons entering or leaving the area for which he is responsible, and these reports are forwarded to the Residence. Were your name not found upon them as travelling in the right direction an inquiry would be set on foot, and 'tis no easy matter for persons of quality to hide themselves in Russia; so you would soon be located and arrested to suffer a severer penalty.'

With that Roger had to be content for the time being, but he felt that his prospects of devising some means of getting
out of the country were considerably brighter than he had thought them the previous day. He therefore led the talk into other channels, and a little before eleven, they arrived at the English Factory.

To his surprise a stream of people, mostly dressed in sober black, was crossing the main courtyard, and entering the church. A few equipages were setting down richly-clad Russians, some of whom he recognised as relatives of Natalia's to whom he had been introduced the day before, but the bulk of the little crowd had a curiously home-like, British look; and only then did he realise that it was Sunday morning. His recent experiences had made him lose count of the days, but evidently Mr. Tooke's usual congregation were assembling for the Sabbath service, so he assumed that his wedding-ceremony would not take place until after it.

The Reverend William was waiting in the porch to receive him, and Roger anxiously scanned his face, hoping for a sign that he had decided to help him in some way; but the clergyman's expression was blankly courteous as he asked Roger and his companions to go in and seat themselves in the front pew on the right. A few minutes after they had taken their places, Natalia Andreovna, dressed ready for a journey, arrived with her bridesmaids and they filed into the opposite pew. The service then commenced.

By contrast to that of the previous day it was the essence of simple, genuine worship, and it made Roger homesick to a degree that he found almost unbearable. The English voices, the hymns and psalms, all brought back to him with poignant clarity the services he had attended with such regularity during his boyhood in Lymington at the old parish church of St. Thomas Becket. When he closed his eyes in prayer he could so easily imagine himself back there again, but on opening them one sideways glance showed him Natalia's beautiful, wicked profile barely a yard away across the aisle. More than once he was seized with the impulse to spring to his feet and shout aloud that he would not marry her, but he knew that it was too late, the deed was already done.

Mr. Tooke preached upon resignation to the will of the Lord. Roger felt sure that the text had been chosen for his benefit, and that the good man was urging him both to make the best of the marriage into which he had entered so unwillingly and to accept with becoming humility the banishment decreed for him. It was certainly not a good augury that Mr. Tooke had any intention of suggesting a means by which he could escape, and it plunged Roger into further depths of gloom.

At the conclusion of the service Mr. Tooke announced the
marriage and that any of the congregation who wished to remain as witnesses to it were welcome to do so. Roger and Natalia then took their places and were united according to the rites of the Church of England; after which Mr. Tooke addressed them briefly in a low voice, in French.

He said that they had met and married in what was to Roger a land distant both in thought and customs from his own, and that in the course of time Natalia might be called on to follow her husband to a country which she would find strange and different from that of her birth. Moreover he believed there was some reason to suppose that their union had been brought about with little time for the deep consideration that such a step merited, and in unusual circumstances. But that they should never allow such extraneous matters to impair their acceptance of the cardinal fact that, for better or for worse, they had been joined together in the sight of God. Now that they were wed they must consider themselves as one, each giving way to the other's prejudices as often as they could bring themselves to do so, and abiding loyally by the solemn vows they had taken to love and cherish one another.

Natalia cried openly during this short address, and Roger was deeply moved. It brought home to him as nothing else yet had done the full implications of the step he had taken. That he had been forced to it now seemed beside the point, as was also the unlovely vicious streak in Natalia's nature. Apparently she could not help the delight which seized her at the thought or sight of physical brutality, and since their arrival in Russia she had given ample proof that she had conceived a deep passion for him. She was beautiful, rich, vivacious and unfailingly interesting to talk to. Most men, he knew, would consider themselves fortunate to have won such a bride.

Suddenly, he saw the whole issue in a new light. It was borne in upon him that no possible good could come of his continuing to regard his marriage as a trap into which he had fallen. He must accept it as the will of God and follow Mr. Tooke's wise counsel.

There and then he determined both to make every effort to eradicate Natalia's love of cruelty, and to treat her with all the generosity and kindness of which he was capable. Looking at her tear-stained but radiant face as they left the altar, he felt that if he acted on this new resolution, their strange marriage could yet be made a success and that he might come truly to love her.

Followed by their relations and friends they went to the vestry, and while everyone else was watching Natalia sign the register Mr. Tooke slipped a small, three-cornered note unobserved
into Roger's hand. In view of the sermon on resignation to which he had just listened he was hard put to it to conceal his surprise, but the emotion was swiftly overcome by acute impatience to read it and learn if the clergyman had, after all, devised some means by which he might evade having to set out for Siberia.

His gloves were out of sight in the pocket of his travelling-coat, so exclaiming that he must have left them in the pew, he hurried back into the now empty church. Opening the note with trembling fingers, he read:

The brig White Rose out of Hull, Captain Tommy Bell, is lying at the timber-wharf and is due to sail for home a few days hence. I have spoken with Mr. Bell, who tells me that he could accommodate two passengers, and I have arranged with him to expect you aboard some time tonight
.

Roger could have jumped for joy. Coming immediately after the familiar service, the English voices and the sight of the sturdy independent-looking congregation, the very words ‘White Rose—Hull—Tommy Bell' held a magic ring; they seemed to epitomise British courage, honesty and freedom, and at the same time to conjure up so many gentle decencies of life that he had found totally lacking in Russia.

Thrusting the note into an inner pocket, he hurried back to the vestry, to find that Mr. Tooke had just invited the company to adjourn to the parsonage and join him and his wife in a glass of wine. Upstairs in the pleasant drawing-room Roger paid his respects to Mrs. Tooke, and, a few minutes later, managed to get a word in private with her husband. Having thanked the clergyman from the bottom of his heart he spoke to him of Zaria and asked him to take charge of her when she came out of hospital. On Mr. Tooke agreeing, he wrote a brief note making the little serf over to him, and added to it a gold Imperial as a present for her. Then, happy in the thought that he had at one stroke made a useful gift to the man who had helped him and assured the girl a good home, he rejoined Natalia.

‘We must not long delay our setting out, my love,' she smiled, as he came up to her, ‘for we have far to go before night.'

Some of her friends who were standing nearby then rallied him on his impatience to carry her off, and said that he might at least have allowed her one night in St. Petersburg.

Knowing the secret reason which lay behind their starting at once he laughed the matter off; but he still had no idea what arrangements had been made for their journey until, on
going downstairs, he saw two heavy travelling-coaches drawn up outside.

The first was for the bridal pair and was almost as commodious as a caravan; its wide seats pulled down to form sleeping-bunks and in addition to a great pile of fur rugs it contained most of their personal belongings. In the second were to ride a maid for her and a valet for him; from its boot protruded the chimney of a small field-kitchen and a good part of its interior was occupied by cases containing food and wine.

The good-byes were said, they took their seats, and the heavy coaches rumbled out of the yard. For the first time since their wedding, some twenty-six hours before, he was alone with his wife.

True to his decision taken in the church he put his arm round her, drew her head down on to his shoulder, and kissed her.

She nestled against him, and after a moment murmured:

‘How prodigious strange it is that, whereas a week ago, I should never have dared to ask the consent of my family or the Empress to marry an untitled gentleman like yourself, we should now find ourselves wed by her decree. 'Tis hard that, having been generous enough to give you to me, she should have driven us away from most of the things that make life worth living. But we have one another, and our exile may not be of long duration; so, all things considered, we should count ourselves monstrous fortunate.'

‘If we are called upon to face hardship together no worse equipped than we are at present, we shall have little cause to grumble,' he smiled. ‘However did you manage to arrange for us to journey into exile in such comfort?'

Glancing up at him in surprise, she replied. ‘Wherever we were bound we could hardly travel with less than two coaches; and were you in truth taking me to honeymoon on your Tula estate the arrangements would not have differed. 'Twould have been all of eight hundred
versts,
and in Russia towns having inns of good enough standard to accommodate persons of quality are often several days' journey apart; so even in the depths of winter one must be prepared to take most of one's meals on the roadside.'

‘Even so, seeing that, like myself, you were confined to the Peterhof until your going to church this morning, I marvel at your having succeeded in smoothing the first stage of our rough path so altogether admirably.'

‘ 'Twas quite simple,' she confessed. ‘In order to conform to the Empress's orders, I told my grandfather yesterday that
you were averse to abiding for even a night in Petersburg, and I asked him to provide travelling coaches for us this morning. Then I sent my maid in with orders to pack such things as I might require for several months' absence and to make all other arrangements.'

‘Did you not tell even your grandfather that we had been ordered into exile?'

‘Nay, I dared not. Had I done so he would have gone to the Empress and made a scene, which would have achieved nothing except to mar our prospects of an early reprieve. Clearly it is her wish that no one should learn of our disgrace until sufficient time has elapsed for it to be no longer connected with your brief stay at the Peterhof. When we have been at our destination long enough for my friends to expect to have news of me I intend to write to them, saying that the Empress, banished us in a fit of temper brought about by an indiscretion of yours. I'll say that you were rash enough to demand that on marrying you, I should cease my attendance on her, and she retorted that since you were so greedy for my company you should take me to a place where you would have no other. She will, I am sure, appreciate the cleverness of such an explanation, and when my relatives then urge that you erred only through lack of knowledge of her Court she will pardon and recall us.'