Maid of Baikal: A Novel of the Russian Civil War

“But surely, the matter must be resolved before very long,” Anna Vasilyevna joined in, her voice sounding a sensible note.

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose upon your hospitality any longer than necessary!” Zhanna replied, taking Yulia’s hand in hers. “If you need the flat, I will find another place to stay!”

“No, no, no,” Yulia assured her. “It’s yours for as long as you need it. I’m perfectly content to remain on my estate at Beregovoy. And if I need to come to Omsk for a day or two, now and then, there is plenty of room for us both.”

After this, the three women exchanged a few more pleasantries before Anna Vasilyevna led Zhanna back to the samovar to refresh their glasses of tea.

“You realize, of course, who else has been residing at Beregovoy these past months when he is not away traveling?” Anna confided to her young protégé in low tones, once they left Yulia behind.

“Beregovoy?” Zhanna asked with a vacant look. “I never heard of the place until Yulia mentioned it.”

“Well, since Yulia is a British citizen, she has agreed to let the Allies locate their new wireless station there. And your friend, Captain du Pont, is the officer placed in charge of it.”

“Oh, so that’s where he goes when he’s not in the city?” Zhanna asked without really expecting an answer.

“Yes, and it seems that he and Yulia have grown rather close,” Anna added, leaning close to speak in Zhanna’s ear.

“Oh, how marvelous for Yulia Yekaterinovna!” Zhanna exclaimed in genuine delight before putting a hand to her mouth for having spoken so loudly. “He is a true gentleman,” she added.

“Indeed,” Anna agreed. “And Yulia has high hopes that Captain du Pont will remain at Beregovoy for the summer and won’t be called away for another lengthy journey. We certainly wouldn’t want anything to come between the two of them, would we?” she added, her tone of voice suddenly turned chill.

“Of course not,” Zhanna replied with a dutiful smile, now that the picture was clear. For now she knew why she had been invited to the tea; and she understood what was expected of her. As for Captain du Pont, Zhanna could hardly fault him for seeking attention from an attractive woman of his own age, especially after she had kept him at arm’s length for so long. Still, Zhanna felt a twinge of discomfort that, one way or another, Yulia Yekaterinovna’s happiness might be coming somehow at her expense.

* * *

Two days later, Zhanna received a surprise visit from General Dieterichs, who congratulated her on surviving her examination by Archbishop Sylvester. He also marveled at how her arrival in Omsk appeared to have launched a spiritual awakening there, with worshipers flocking to the churches in hopes of catching a glimpse of the Maid at her morning prayers, or hearing her impromptu remarks from the church steps. The general even offered to attend services with her the following day. Whether he was a religious man, an astute politician, or merely enjoyed the company of young women, was not clear. But he deflected all her questions about being sent to the front with the words, “Be patient.”

Apart from such few social encounters, Zhanna spent most of her time in Yulia’s apartment, with only Paladin and the housekeeper to keep her company until evening, when Ned or Ivashov would sometimes join them for dinner and a game of cards. During those evenings, Zhanna never showed any doubt that she would soon be sent to the front, though winter was nearly over and the long-awaited spring offensive seemed likely to be unleashed without her. But far from brooding over it, she seemed to delight in her daily ambles around Omsk and in the adulation of her followers. She often showed a girlish simplicity and delight, especially when trying on new clothes, seeing new sights, or when she won at cards, slamming her winning hand onto the table with unrestrained glee.

Meanwhile, Ned strengthened his suspicion that Zhanna was keeping him at arm’s length. The thought had come to him during dinner at her uncle’s townhouse in Irkutsk, when she had avoided eye contact with him and kept him from being seated beside her. And though she had seemed to soften toward him on the long train ride from Irkutsk to Omsk, the chill had resumed after her examination at St. Nicholas Cathedral. One night, when they were left alone briefly at the card table, Ned decided to learn why.

“How long are you prepared to wait for your assignment, Zhanna?” he asked her. “What if the Admiral launches his spring offensive without you?”

“I will wait until I am called,” she replied, regarding him coolly.

“And if that time grows exceedingly long?”

“It cannot, for the army will need me soon enough,” she answered crisply, picking up the cards to shuffle them, cut them, and shuffle again.

“You wouldn’t go back to Verkhne-Udinsk?” he pressed.

She turned her head away.

“There is nothing left for me there.”

“How about continuing your education? Your father has offered to send you to France, or America. Perhaps I could help…”