Rescued by Love Read online

  Even as she spoke, the flames leapt through to the top of the house and the roof began to crumble until it was no longer visible.

  Now in the light from the fire they could see men moving about below them throwing one torch after another into what was left of the house.

  She realised now that her father’s bedroom where he was lying had completely disappeared.

  She wanted to hide her face against her brother’s shoulder and not look at the unfolding tragedy anymore.

  Yet it was impossible not to do so.

  The fire was getting stronger and stronger and the flames were leaping higher and higher.

  Now she could see people running from the village towards it.

  There would be no chance of them being able to save it, even if they had wanted to help.

  But she had the feeling when her brother told her that they were all rejoicing, they would no longer have to obey the orders given by her father who employed a large number of them.

  Perhaps they had hated him as revolutionaries hated anyone they thought was socially above them and made them feel inferior.

  She must have trembled because her brother’s arms tightened further around her.

  “You have to be brave, Weena,” he said. “We have to find a new life for ourselves, a new way of living. As I have thought it all out, I will tell you about it as soon as we reach the ship that will carry us to safety.”

  Weena looked round at the burning house.

  “It’s a long way – to the sea,” she managed to sob.

  “I know that!” her brother answered. “That is why two horses are waiting for us in a place where no one will see them. I brought them there this morning and left them enough food and water so that they will carry us safely to where we will escape from Russia. Never, I hope, to come back!”

  He spoke with a bitterness in his voice that had not been there before.

  Then Weena asked in a quavering voice,

  “You really mean that we have now lost everything that was ours?”

  “Not quite everything. “But our possessions, our land, our home and, as far as we are both concerned, there will never be a chance of us coming back here to claim our birthright.”

  “You mean – we are exiled?” Weena asked slowly.

  “We are indeed exiled and a large number of people would envy us because we have been well prepared for the inevitable.”

  He rose to his feet as he was speaking and pulled her to him.

  Then, holding her hand, he began to take her down the mountain on the far side.

  They had not gone far before she realised that they were out of sight of the house.

  But she knew by now that there would be little left except for the fire that would burn perhaps for a day or so before it finally died out.

  Weena wanted to cry because it was her home.

  She had been so happy there all her life with her father and mother.

  She had really believed that all the servants who had served them for so long were their friends and not only respected but loved them.

  ‘I really cannot believe that Nanny,’ she wanted to say, ‘was one of the people who set fire to our house.’

  Yet she was not certain.

  There had been rumours for quite some time that the people in the village were discontented.

  There had been a bad harvest last year, but it was not only that which was disturbing.

  There were stories in all the newspapers and letters from their friends reporting that there was discontent over the whole country.

  The Czar was unpopular and so were the rules and regulations by which the country was run.

  Weena remembered now that when people came to stay with them, they had horrific stories to tell of people being murdered.

  And of those in the Government being attacked in the newspapers and booed in the streets.

  There was indeed a vast amount of disaffection in whichever direction they looked.

  Weena had not attended to these stories very much.

  But she realised when her brother came home that he was continually going into the village as if he found it more interesting than being at home with her.

  She was not at all surprised because she knew that he must find it very dull at the house.

  At the same time she was aware, because she loved him, that he was worried about something although he did not confide in her as to what it was.

  Now she understood.

  He must have been aware that they were planning in the village to destroy her father and his family because they owned so much land and in their eyes were therefore grotesquely rich and privileged.

  Many of those working for him relied on them for their very existence.

  It was not only the servants in the house but those who worked on the farms and the many thousands of acres of agricultural land that made up the family estate.

  When her mother died, Weena knew that she was a grievous loss to her father that he was not strong enough to withstand.

  A year after her mother was buried, he was taken ill and nothing the doctors could do seemed to make him any better.

  He had appointed several managers for the estate who Weena thought were unnecessarily harsh with the men who worked there.

  It was whispered in the house amongst the servants that they wanted her father to get well so that they were not bullied and ill-treated, as they were being in his absence, by these new foremen.

  Her brother, Ivor, who was three years older than she was, was constantly abroad travelling from country to country and he sent her postcards and letters from most of the places where he stayed.

  He had also been to England which he had always wanted to visit because their mother was English.

  It was a country that Ivor and Weena had been told about so often and which they admired ever since they had been in the nursery.

  “I wish I could stay longer,” Ivor had written to her when he was last in England, “but I have been planning to visit Africa and I don’t want to alter my plans. At the same time I will come back one day and you must come with me to this gracious country.”

  She wondered where he was taking her now.

  But it was impossible to ask him anything further while they were climbing down the mountain.

  Then Ivor hurried her to a rough shelter built under some trees, where she saw the horses he had told her about were waiting.

  He patted them and talked to them so that they were not restless or upset when he arrived and Weena saw that he had been right when he said that he had fed them and there was plenty of water if they wanted a drink.

  Without speaking he lifted her onto the horse which had a side-saddle on it and mounted the other one himself.

  Only when they were riding away down the rough road that she knew led to the Black Sea, did she ask him without slowing her speed,

  “Where are we going now, Ivor?”

  “We are leaving Russia,” he said, “as I have told you. The sooner we find the ship, which should be in the harbour, the better I will be pleased.”

  As he spoke, he looked over his shoulder as if he was afraid that someone might be following them.

  For the first time Weena thought that if they were followed it could be someone who wanted to destroy them because they were their father’s children.

  “Could they really hurt us, Ivor?” she asked, but was instantly afraid of the answer.

  He did not speak and they rode on still further until at last she could see the buildings that were warehouses at the end of the harbour.

  It seemed extraordinary to her that they should now be leaving Russia with almost what she stood up in and no possessions except the two horses they were riding.

  Then she remembered how strange Ivor had been for this last month or two.

  Their father had been so ill that he could do nothing and said little when they spoke to him.

  And now she understood why Ivor had taken over everything. He was in c
ontrol of the house and the estate.

  Twice he had left to go to one of the large towns that was situated some distance from them.

  She knew that, when he was there, he had consulted the local Bank Manager from whom she received cheques to enable her to pay the wages in her brother’s absence at the end of each month.

  When there had been any money coming in from the sales of the estate’s produce, she had handed it over to Ivor and she had always supposed that he had paid it into the bank that her father had used.

  Now she remembered that for the last six months he had often gone away at the end of the month and recently he had not given her an address or told her where he was going.

  She had always admired her brother because he was very intelligent and her mother had been particularly proud of him.

  “Ivor ought to have been in Parliament,” she had said more than once to her father.

  He knew that she had been thinking of the English Parliament and not the Russian one which was continually being criticised.

  Her mother was completely English and her family was well known and highly regarded according to her and many of her relations had been amongst the aristocracy.

  She had fallen in love with her husband when he had come to England to stay at the Embassy in London, as one of his close relatives was the Russian Ambassador at the Court of St. James’s.

  Because her father was tall, very good-looking and had an irresistible charm for women, her mother, who was only just eighteen at the time, had fallen madly in love with him almost as soon as they had met.

  He had the chance of marrying quite a number of women because he was so handsome.

  But he was, in fact, not like an ordinary Russian.

  Those who lived in the South of the country were rather short and found it difficult to be friendly. They were, amongst the haughty Social hostesses, considered not to be appropriate friends for the debutantes.

  Her father had been the exception.

  Because he came from the South of Russia, he was entirely different in looks and, of course, in character from those in the North.

  He had travelled extensively as a boy because his father moved constantly from Embassy to Embassy.

  He therefore looked unusual for a Russian and did not think like one.

  “I suppose,” he said once to his children, “I am a Cosmopolitan.”

  And that had been the truth.

  Yet, when he had inherited from his father the huge estate in the Caucasus, he had given up the life he enjoyed moving from country to country and had settled down.

  He was content to do so as he was so in love with his wife.

  She was not one of the great Social beauties, but they had met unexpectedly at a very grand party given by a fashionable lady who always made it her duty to be nice to foreigners.

  “The real trouble with the English,” she observed to her husband, “is that they label all foreigners as if they are strange animals living overseas who one need only stare at and not become too familiar with!”

  She gave a little giggle.

  “I like foreigners, they amuse me. They interest me and they are indeed a refreshing change from the English who think themselves too perfect to be altered in any way.”

  Weena could remember her mother telling her this and they had both laughed.

  “She said it to me,” her mother told her, “before I went to the party where I met your father. I knew at once that he was the only man who had ever made my heart beat quicker. In fact I fell in love with him as soon as I saw him.”

  “And he fell in love with you, Mama,” Weena said, who had heard the story many times before.

  “He said, as soon as he saw me, he knew that was what he had been seeking all the time he had been going around the world,” her mother had replied.

  She looked thoughtful as she continued “We were married and, as he had no wish to travel any more after his father died, we returned here and settled down, as you might say, to a happiness that I just cannot put into words.”

  ‘It was so true,’ Weena thought. ‘There has never been a couple so attached to each other as my father and mother.’

  Her love seemed to shine brilliantly from her and it made everyone round her feel as if they were part of it too.

  ‘Ivor and I were brought up in love,’ Weena mused. ‘How could we possibly be hated by those round us so that they are prepared to burn my beloved Papa to death?’

  She had the distinct feeling that, if her mother had been alive, they would never have touched her, because she meant too much to them.

  Her father, however, had grown more Russian as the years passed.

  He expected to be obeyed without any argument and without anyone refusing whatever it was he wanted or contradicting him in any way.

  ‘Now,’ Weena thought as they rode on, ‘we have no home and perhaps like Papa we will have to travel from country to country before we find happiness.’

  Her father had spoken so often of the places he had been to and of the beautiful women he had met in France, Italy, Egypt, Australia and many other places.

  He always ended his story with how he had seen their mother walk into the room at Lady Cromwell’s house in London.

  And how he had known the moment he saw her that she had been the woman he had been searching for all the years he had travelled so extensively.

  It was a wonderful story and a happy one.

  Yet Weena felt that it was dreadfully wrong that her father should be buried by a huge mountain of flames and not lying beside her mother in the churchyard where most of his illustrious ancestors were buried.

  Weena had been strictly brought up by her mother as a Christian and so she believed that, while their bodies were left on earth, their souls were together in Heaven.

  ‘If it is true,’ she thought as she rode on, ‘then they will be looking after Ivor and me when we have nowhere to go and are wanderers in a world where no one wants us.’

  “Here we are!” Ivor exclaimed suddenly.

  Weena forgot all that she was thinking and looked ahead.

  She could see the outline of roofs of buildings at the far end of the harbour.

  “I hope that there will be something to eat,” Weena said, “because I am feeling really hungry.”

  Ivor smiled.

  “We will have breakfast soon and, if there is no ship in Port, then I am sure I will find something for us.”

  Weena thought that this was somehow doubtful but she did not argue.

  They rode on together in silence until they reached the harbour.

  There were two ships docked at the quay and Ivor glanced at them before he said,

  “I will show you where we will leave the horses. Someone has already promised me that they will look after them properly for us. They have served us well.”

  “It has certainly been a pleasure to ride this one,” Weena answered. “I only wish that we were not going away.”

  “There is no question about it,” Ivor asserted. “We have to go.”

  He did not say more.

  When they arrived at the harbour, he dismounted and Weena did the same.

  He led the way and Weena followed him to where there was a stable for travellers, who only sailed out for the day, to leave their horses until they returned.

  Fortunately the stable was completely empty except for one ancient horse, which turned to stare at them as they entered the building.

  Ivor tied up his horse and saw that there was food in the manger and water for him and Weena did the same.

  Then she followed her brother out of the building and across to the ship.

  “I suggest that you wait here,” he said, “while I go and see if there is accommodation for us.”

  There was a convenient seat not far from the ship and Weena sat down on it.

  Her brother was away for a short while and then he came back to say,

  “This ship is leaving for Constantinople and then it is going o
n to Athens. I will just find out the destination of the other ship, which does not look so good. Then we can decide which one to board.”

  He did as he said and came back to tell her,

  “That second ship is not good enough for us. Let me take you aboard the first one and put you in your cabin while I go to fetch the luggage we are taking with us.”

  Because Weena was now feeling tired and a little depressed, she said nothing and her brother led the way.

  He climbed aboard and told her to wait while he found someone who would take them to their cabins.

  The man spoke a strange language that Weena did not know, but Ivor managed to converse with him and she was shown into quite a comfortable cabin.

  It was clean and there was room, she thought, for her trunk that her brother promised to bring her.

  He left her there and, although she lay down on the bunk, she did not undress as she did not have a nightgown.

  Now she understood why her brother had told her to pack everything that was essential.

  He had said that they were going to stay with some friends of his who were very rich and influential.

  He was lying to her, but it had made her, as he had intended, pack all her prettiest dresses and everything she would want if she was to stay away for several weeks.

  Ivor came back eventually with a man helping him carry her trunks which they set down in the cabin.

  Then they went back to fetch his cases which were put in the cabin next door.

  Although Weena was tired, she still wanted to talk to Ivor.

  She only took off the dress she was wearing when he had taken her up the hill and put on her dressing gown she found almost on the top of one of her trunks.

  Then at last there was the sound of them moving into the next cabin and she heard the man thanking her brother profusely for what he had tipped him.

  She put her head round the door.

  “Come and talk to me, Ivor,” she urged. “I must know where we are going and what is happening.”

  “I think you would be wise to sleep,” he replied. “Quite frankly I am very tired myself.”

  “All right, Ivor,” she answered. “But I would like to know if we are going North or South, to the moon or to Hell itself!”