Chapter Three

London

1858

It had been almost three years since Elena had come to England, and it was still much too cold for her taste, even in summer. Despite the chill and dampness in the air, she found living there quiet and relatively peaceful, especially compared to her years of wandering and war. Elena could only be grateful that her husband's sister and aunt had welcomed her with such friendliness and grace. David's aunt Sophie had come from trade and was happy to have a merchant's daughter in the family, even if she was strange and foreign. Irene, David's sister, seemed a lonely girl and was delighted to have someone closer to her age around. They would never replace her family, but Elena enjoyed spending time with Irene and Sophie, and they made her transition to life in England as seamless as possible, particularly Irene, who helped her read and write in English.

Elena had lately realized that many of her thoughts and dreams were in English, too, which was new and a little unsettling. This made her feel even farther away from her home and everyone she loved. Even though her life was in England and she was finding ways to enjoy it, she often imagined that she was living an elaborate dream that she would someday wake up from. Everything felt like it could slip away in a heartbeat, like a fog of breath on a glass. She supposed that because her previous world had changed in a day, she could never feel settled or entirely at peace.

When Mrs. Raeburn returned to England after the war, she was asked to be matron of St. Helena's, a voluntary hospital, within the year, recommended by one of the many officers she had treated in the Crimea. Elena found it a bit disconcerting to see her beloved friend, who had saved so many lives in the Crimea, only in charge of the domestic arrangements of the hospital rather than healing. But Mrs. Raeburn reminded her that the sick needed cleanliness and good food to recover and that being a matron was a respectable position. Because of her constant presence in town, Elena and Irene stayed in London most of the year rather than go to the family estate. Although Irene insisted the London townhouse on the outskirts of Mayfair was relatively modest, it all felt very grand to Elena and furthered her conviction that one day she would wake up from this strange dream back in her tiny bed in Dobruja. Elena started to go weekly to St. Helena's to see Mrs. Raeburn and volunteer where she could, eventually bringing Irene with her as well, which gave her some stability and purpose in the strange new world that was England. Apparently, volunteering in hospitals had been cause for scandal in the past, as proper English ladies were not supposed to see such things. Still, Irene pressed Elena to go with her, and Elena eventually acquiesced, as it appeared any scandal around ladies in hospitals had dissipated a bit since the war.

Elena rarely went out in the highest echelons of society, but she knew she would soon have to with Irene's approaching Season when young English aristocratic women went out in society to look for husbands. As a married woman, she was to be Irene's chaperone, although she felt there was still so much she did not know of the English aristocracy. She was not afraid of what Irene called Polite Society exactly. She merely did not care for their prying eyes and judgment. She knew they thought her strange and foreign from her limited exposure, likely that she had married far above herself. She did not care and purposefully made her accent even stronger among those they called "the ton." Her scar likely helped lend her an air of mystery and intimidation for once, as she had never been particularly intimidating to her younger sisters. Fortunately, Irene's preparation for her come out helped Elena learn what would be expected of her and how she ought to act when out in society.

Once the war ended and diplomatic relations resumed, she went to the Russian embassy church at least once a month under the guise of a dark veil. It was not a secret, but she did not want to draw attention to her foreign religion in the eyes of the ton. It was not the same as home, as the services were in Russian, but she kissed the icons and said the prayers. While she hated how the Russians invaded her homeland, she did not feel angry at the church or Russia. Her anger at herself and her selfishness often boiled over, but she did not ask for a forgiveness she did not feel she deserved. She just prayed for her family, for her village. She lit a candle for her father, mother, sisters, and grandmother. At times, she lit a candle for David, too. She did not want him to return and disturb the quiet life she had fashioned for herself, but she was eternally grateful to him and wanted him to find some measure of peace and healing.

At night, she read. She had long since finished The Hunchback of Notre Dame , which admittedly was an ambitious start for her first novel, and had moved on to other works. She had improved her reading in English thanks to Mrs. Raeburn, David, and now Irene. It was the first time in her life that she had ever read for pleasure, as before her father had taught her to read so, she could understand notes and numbers, but beyond that, Elena hadn't read many books, least of all novels or serials. Irene had insisted she read her favorite, Jane Austen, which helped Elena understand English society a little better, though she did not yet grasp all the rules and expectations. She often read so late that Sophie had given her a pair of spectacles to read in the night. She had heard that ladies were not supposed to read like this, but she did not quite consider herself a lady. She would always be a merchant's daughter, even though now she was a baroness.

While she cared for Mrs. Raeburn, Irene, and Sophie, they could never replace the family she had loved and lost. Every night, after she would close her book, that moment between when she got into bed and when she fell asleep was the only time she allowed herself to grieve. When she would curse herself and her own stupidity. If only she hadn't run away. If only she had known the price she would pay. She just wished she knew what had happened to her family. The not knowing was a unique form of torture, and one she only let herself feel fully during those minutes before sleep. As Elena thought about all this, she exhaled, said a prayer for each of them, and shut her eyes, then locked her heart and troubles away until the next night.

****

One afternoon, Elena took Irene with her to St. Helena's, which was not far from their townhouse, though the neighborhood changed quite quickly. As they stepped inside from the great doors, Elena inhaled the scent of the hospital, which was both the smell of illness and death mixed with cleanliness and order. She was told this hospital was newer, built in a pavilion style, allowing greater ventilation for patients to breathe. After the ramshackle huts that functioned as wards in the Crimea, Elena could see how this building style was far superior as it was intentional and much less makeshift in design. Elena realized her mind was wandering many miles away, and she strove to refocus on Irene as they came into the great ward, which led off into several smaller wards.

"I wish I didn't have to do frivolous things like go to the modiste or tea. They all seem so useless compared to this." Irene sighed as they walked up the stairs at the entrance of the west ward.

"Well." Elena paused, considering how to respond, but knew she could be somewhat honest with Irene. "They are, I suppose. But your brother and aunt think it will open more doors for you if you make some connections in society. Besides, tea is not to be taken lightly." Elena had become begrudgingly fond of how the British took their tea, but she would never admit it.

"I have little desire to make the further acquaintance of most of society. Except Annie, I don't think I would do it if Annie weren't having her first Season too." Irene's dearest friend Annie, or Antigone Sprague, the only child of David's mentor, Lord Gaius, was also having her come out this Season. Annie, who was as passionate about the hospital as Irene, took a more romantic view of the situation, while Irene did not seem to be looking forward to the Season at all.

"You know, no one will force you if you truly do not want to do it. I do not know your brother very well." Elena paused as she realized this was a strange thing to say about one's husband. However, she felt he would agree with her on this point. "But I believe he would listen to you." Elena stole a sidelong glance at Irene.

"Yes, he is an excellent brother, even if he has been gone these years. And he did bring me the best and most understanding sister I could ask for."

Elena sought to cover the bittersweet reaction that Irene's words created in her. While she was touched, she could not yet think of Irene as a sister in her heart. Not until she knew what had happened to the sisters of her birth.

Irene ignored Elena's pause and quickly moved on. "I suppose I must do it, though. It is expected of me, and I've known it was coming my whole life." Irene smiled, but it did not seem to reach her eyes. Elena squeezed her hand, not knowing what to say.

As several orderlies greeted them, they approached the women's ward, where they usually spent most of their visits, and found Magnolia Green, or Maggie to most people, Mrs. Raeburn's grown daughter, who was pacing incessantly. Elena had a sense that even though Maggie was a very competent nurse, as she was competent in everything she did, she thrived more on organization and administration. While Mrs. Raeburn had the vision, Maggie did the hard work in the background to make things possible. Despite her great beauty, Elena guessed that Maggie preferred things this way, with little fanfare for herself, as Elena noticed she often tried to blend into a room, unlike her mother. Elena sometimes wondered what it must be like to have a mother like Mrs. Raeburn, but she didn't dare ask. Her own mother had always been held up as the village beauty, which was intimidating, but she was a quiet, dutiful wife in contrast with Elena's outgoing, storytelling father. Elena now wondered what her mother had held back now that she had met women like Mrs. Raeburn. Returning her thoughts to the present, Elena moved to greet her, but Maggie looked to be in a state of exasperation, so she shrank back. Maggie had a unique position at the hospital. She had explained to Elena that now that nursing was becoming more professionalized since the war, nurses were not supposed to be young or married. However, after she had married Dr. Green, he threatened to withdraw his consulting services if his wife lost her position, and the hospital acquiesced. This not only told Elena that he was a singularly talented surgeon to be so in demand but also that he was a good man who wanted Maggie to fulfill her life's purpose.

"She wants to see her," Maggie muttered after Elena had greeted her.

"Who?" Elena asked, dumbfounded.

"Her."

"Who?" Elena held up a hand as if diagramming the sentence, a method Irene had taught her when she was working to write in English. " Who wants to see Her ?"

Shaking her head, Maggie turned her hazel eyes heavenward. Taking a deep breath, she whispered, "The queen."

Elena and Irene looked at each other, and then Irene asked, "Who wants to see the queen?"

"The queen wants to meet my mother."

"Well, that's wonderful!" Irene exclaimed. "Isn't it?" she asked tentatively as she looked between the two older women.

Elena had an idea what this was about, as she had known Suzanne Raeburn much longer than Irene. "You are afraid she is going to tell the queen to, how the English say , ‘Go to the devil ' ?" Elena stopped to cross herself at the mention of the devil. There were still certain habits she would never be rid of.

"Not exactly, but she's never been one not to speak her mind, you know that," Maggie spoke quietly and quickly, her gaze darting around the room as if making sure no one would overhear them. "She wasn't born here. My late father was. She doesn't know all the standing upon ceremony that goes on with the monarchy and the aristocracy. I don't want her to be a laughingstock."

"Your mother has never cared what anyone else thought of her. However, I suppose that if she had," Elena scoured her mind for the correct English word before landing on one. "An eventful meeting with the queen, that the hospital could lose funding, or your mother might lose her position, so I do see your worry. But outside of Balaclava, your mother talked to many officers who grace the House of Lords. She will know, uh, what is the phrase, which battles to choose, yes?"

"I live in hope." Maggie sighed and glanced again at the ceiling. "You know I love her more than anything, but sometimes I wish for someone, something different."

Elena did not say anything. Mrs. Raeburn was all the saints rolled into one for her, and she would gladly follow her to the end of the world. But she knew the relationship between mothers and daughters could be fraught. If only she had made peace with her own mother before she had so stupidly left.

"I never knew mine," Irene said quietly. "All I hear is how much I look like her, but I never hear how she actually was."

Elena felt a rush of affection for Irene, saying softly, "Perhaps you can write David to tell you."

"Oh, Elena, I completely forgot. He just wrote that he is coming back for my Season!"

"What?" Elena felt all the air leave her lungs but sought to cover it with a polite cough as Maggie seemed to be watching Elena surreptitiously. Elena was aware that Maggie knew more about her marriage than Irene did. As her mind raced, she forced herself to catch her breath. David was good, she reminded herself. David was kind. She liked David. But she liked her life as it was, and he had not mentioned returning for the Season before. What could that mean? She did not know what she meant when she vaguely promised to think of "maybe someday" all those years ago, and she still had not considered that someday to be the near future. At the time, "maybe someday" was a faraway hope that she could be the girl she once was with no scar. The girl whose heart was still whole and unbroken. Which she would never be after Anatole's betrayal and her fateful journey to üsküdar. With that last thought, she unconsciously shuddered.

Perhaps he was just coming for this Season, she reasoned with herself. She knew that Irene would be delighted to see her brother, especially for her come out that she was so dreading, so she pasted on a smile and squeezed Irene's hand. "How lovely. How is he feeling? And how long did he say he was staying?" Elena tried to ask casually.

"He didn't say exactly. He said he would arrive in a fortnight."

Elena tried to remember what a fortnight was in her head. Was it two weeks or four? Irene noticed her silence. "He'll be here in fourteen days."

Covering her embarrassment, Elena nodded. "Yes, well, we must get you to the modiste after this, so when your brother comes, you will have time to spend with him. I am sure he will want to see his favorite sister."

"I'm his only sister." Irene rolled her eyes and gave Elena a begrudging grin.

"Yes, but you must do me the courtesy of laughing because I rarely make jokes in English, even if they are bad." Elena felt a twinge as she thought of her father's jokes and how she missed them, even if they, too, were bad, and then grasped Maggie's arm. "Come, I want to hear how this royal visit came about in the first place. "