new. X-ray treatment might lead to a resolution. A Murphy drip for hydration.”
“We must get him to St. Luke’s. Call an ambulance.”
He reached for his bag. “They’re all engaged—at the fire. He might not survive a move, anyway. If only we’d acted sooner…”
Voices echoed in the hallway. Caroline.
Taking deep breaths in through her mouth, she pushed past Peg into the room. “Father—I was at Betty’s—”
“My girl—” Henry turned toward her voice.
She ran to him. “I came as soon as I heard.”
Across the bed, Dr. Forbes shook his head at me. Of course, Caroline could not be near him. With her weak lungs, it was out of the question. But how could I deny my daughter her father?
I caught Caroline by the wrist, before she was halfway to the bed. “You can see him soon, darling. He just—”
Caroline broke free, rushed to the bed, and slipped her arms around Henry’s neck. “I’m here, Father. I won’t leave you.”
Henry turned to her. “Where have you been? I’ve been calling—”
Dr. Forbes rushed around the bed. “This is no place for children, Caroline.” He wrapped his hands about her waist and pulled her from Henry.
Caroline fought like a distempered cat, arms flailing, kicking Dr. Forbes. “He is my Father. I have the right to—”
Henry held out one hand. “Caroline—”
Dr. Forbes dragged her toward the door. “She must leave the premises immediately.”
Caroline reached out as she passed me, eyes wild and pleading. “Mother, please. You must let me stay.”
I looked away. “Take her, Peg. Have Thomas drive her to Southampton.”
“No, Mother—”
Peg clamped onto Caroline’s wrists, took her from Dr. Forbes, and pulled her out the door, closing it behind her with her foot.
The closed door muffled Caroline’s last cry. “You have no right. He is my father.”
Henry looked toward the door. “Where is she? Caroline?”
Dr. Forbes pressed one hand to Henry’s forehead. “She’ll be back. You must cool down first.”
A most pitiful look came to Henry’s face and tears pooled in his eyes. “I want my daughter, goddamnit.”
I held his hand. “Soon, my darling.”
Henry closed his eyes and grew quiet. Dr. Forbes pulled a canvas tourniquet from his bag, then looked up at me. “I suggest you pray like you’ve never prayed before, Eliza.”
The world slowed.
All I could think was: Take anything you want from me but not him.
CHAPTER
8
Sofya
1916
The morning of Agnessa’s fiftieth name-day luncheon, the turtledoves cooed in the trees as we ate in the dining room. It was the hottest autumn in recent memory in our woods and even the ice in the icehouse had melted to a tepid pool. We all sat at the table, Agnessa in a trumpet-sleeved dress of white linen.
“Do let some air in,” Agnessa said.
Our gamekeeper Bogdan hurried to open the windows. Such a good man, with his kind blue eyes and weathered skin. He was tanned dark from years outside in every season with his team of beaters, men skilled at shouting and waving their red cloths to flush prey from the forests and steppe. At seven I’d been his worst student, though he patiently taught me to shoot. He smelled of rum and worn leather, his arms around me as I aimed, and was like a proud father years later when I got my first elk.
Beads of sweat on his forehead, Cook set the traditional name-day ring cake sprinkled with almonds on the table in front of Agnessa. The cake perspired as well, a layer of dew forming along the ganache. Where had he even found the sugar to make it? The black market, I suspected, since even with a ration card, one seldom found a grocer with sugar.
Cook stepped back and looked to me for approval.
Luba leaned closer to me. “He’s in love with you, sister. Could it be more obvious?”
“You’re mad,” I said, though there was something sweet about the idea.
How lucky we all felt that Cook, known to most as Baron Yury Vanyovich Vasily-Argunov, a fine-looking bachelor with considerable land holdings, found happiness in our kitchen. Agnessa had invited him to a dinner party years ago and after he tasted an undercooked soufflé, he’d taken over the kitchen and never left, insisting we call him Cook.
The ring on his left hand caught the light. It was an old family ring, given to his great grandfather by Alexander II, a wide rose-gold band layered with a gold imperial eagle, a fat diamond in its belly. Agnessa told us he’d had many offers to buy it and even the tsar had admired it. I never