Free The Jewel of St Petersburg by Kate Furnivall Page A

didn’t know exactly what he did as a government minister, but she knew it had something to do with finance. She used to imagine him in his office at the Chancellery counting the tsar’s money, tall stacks of roubles right up to the ceiling.
    Finally he grew tired of her silence and glanced up.
    “What else?” he asked with a touch of impatience. “I have work to do.”
    “Papa, I don’t want to return to school when the new term starts.”
    He stared at her, surprised. No hint of the anger she had expected.
    Then he smiled.
    “I hope you approve, Papa,” she added quickly.
    “I do indeed. Your mother and I have discussed the situation and we are convinced that schooling can do nothing more for you. It’s time to think about your future.”
    It was only tiny, that first prickle of unease. She gave it no thought.
    “I agree, Papa. I’m so pleased you think so too. That’s what I’ve been planning. I have an idea.”
    He sat back in his chair and picked up the cigar on his desk with pleasure. He dispensed with its band, clipped one end, and smelled its fragrant leaves before taking his time lighting it. She had the feeling he was already celebrating something.
    “So, Valentina,” he said, “for once we agree. You are a good daughter now.”
    Now. Even so. It was a first step.
    She tried to hold the moment, to not let it trickle through her fingers. “This idea of yours, have you discussed it with your mother?”
    “Not yet, Papa. I wanted to discuss it with you first.”
    “Foolish girl.” He smiled and exhaled a twisting string of smoke in her direction. “What do I care for dresses?”
    “Dresses?”
    “Yes, the dresses you have an idea about. You must discuss them with your mother. Mothers are the ones who deal with such matters.”
    She inhaled quickly. Tasted the smoke. “Papa, I didn’t mention dresses.”
    “Well, don’t worry, I’m certain your mother will want to talk about them.” He nodded indulgently. “I know what ladies are like when it comes to gowns.”
    He rose from his seat and marched across the room, his body thick-waisted inside his frock coat. He was making a lot of noise, his sleeves rustling, his feet striding over the polished boards, his fingers tapping his shirt front. She knew these signs, recognized them as indications that he was exceedingly pleased. What was happening here? This conversation was not going right.
    “I won’t need more than a few dresses,” she pointed out warily.
    “No, my dear. If you’re to make a catch you’ll need at least thirty or forty gowns, I imagine. But I leave all that to your mother. The important thing is that the decision is made and we have already compiled a list of names for you to consider.”
    “Papa, what do you mean, make a catch?”
    He looked at his elder daughter fondly. “Find a husband, of course.”
    “A husband?” Her hands fell off her lap.
    “Yes, of course. Isn’t that what we’re talking about? Leaving school and finding a husband.” He drew on his cigar with obvious pleasure, paced the room, and flicked away stray strands of tobacco from his shirt front. “You’ll soon be eighteen, Valentina. Time to behave responsibly. Find a suitable husband this season and get married. Plenty of fine strong officers out there from good families.”
    “I am not getting married, Papa.”
    “Let’s have no foolishness, Valentina. What are you going on about now?”
    “I am not getting married.”
    “You just said you were ready to set about planning your future.”
    “Yes, but not as a wife.”
    “What else is there for you, my dear girl? Your mother and I ...” He stopped, as if struck by an unwelcome thought. In the middle of the room he seemed to swell inside his clothes, and the veins on his cheeks filled with blood. “What is this idea you have for your own future?”
    She stood up to face him. “Papa, that’s what I’ve come to tell you. I want to train to become a professional nurse.”

    T HEY SAT