Flight From the Eagle (29 page)

He was worried about Irina. She had put on a brave front since they arrived in Kaluga, but he felt that she was not happy. Although their imminent parting could explain that, he kept remembering Kusminsky's warning and wondered how he could remove any uncertainties she might have about his feelings for her—or maybe he was mistaken about her feelings for him. An awful doubt had entered his mind during
the night that perhaps a return to a more normal life had changed her mind about marrying him. Perhaps he had only imagined the expression in her eyes last night.

Presently, the Governor's wife brought Irina down. She was dressed for travelling in one of her plain, dull dresses but it was brightened by a rich brown velvet cloak, trimmed with gold braid in a military style which she carried over her arm. Orlov thought approvingly that if it was her own choice, she had an elegant taste in clothes.

He went forward to take her hands and kiss her in greeting. She was pale and although she put up her face to receive his kiss and spoke in her usual composed manner, Orlov was dismayed by the constraint apparent in her voice and the way she kept her eyes down and made no attempt to meet his gaze.

She was pleased to see Kolniev and Kusminsky and thanked them for coming to say goodbye with more warmth in her voice than when she spoke to Orlov. He stood fretting in the background while the others were talking animatedly. What on earth could he do? He couldn't bear to let her go off like this, with a barrier of some sort between them when it might be months before he saw her again.

A servant came in to say that the carriage had arrived and that Countess Barova's luggage had been put into it. They all went outside and Irina presented Masha, her new maid, to Orlov. She was a plump, rosy-cheeked girl with a sensible manner and a pleasant humorous face. Orlov felt relieved when he saw her—she was just the sort of maid he wanted for Irina.

Outside, Josef was standing by the carriage, talking to the driver. It was a new, well-built vehicle, large and comfortable, with four good horses and Irina exclaimed with delight when she saw it, 'What a fine coach!'

'Better than a farm cart?' asked Kolniev with a grin.

The soldiers made a little informal guard of honour and Irina went to speak to them and say goodbye. They blessed her and wished her well with a great deal of sentiment, Sergeant Platov wiping away a tear with a fine theatrical flourish. Then she made her farewells to the Governor and his lady, with repeated thanks for their hospitality, then to Kolniev
and Kusminsky, who both kissed her cheek and begged for invitations to the wedding.

Orlov handed her into the carriage, where the maid was already seated. Irina sat in a corner, looking small and frail, her eyes fixed on her hands, which were twisted together in her lap and her lips trembling a little. Orlov stood by the open carriage door looking up at her and was filled with black misery.

There were a thousand things he wanted to say to her if only they were alone together, but there were so many people; the Governor, his wife, the soldiers, the officers, the post-boys, the driver, the maid, Josef. He gave one desperate look round at their watching faces, then glanced again at Irina's white cheeks and trembling lips.

He saw her bite the lower lip in an effort to keep it still, then practically flung himself into the carriage and took her in his arms. Ignoring the watching faces, he kissed her with a wild, passionate abandon which held everything he felt for her, making no effort to be careful, or gentle, or controlled.

And she responded! She returned all that his kiss tried to tell her in full measure. For a long minute, there were no barriers, only a complete exchange of love and trust which left them both shaking with emotion, but utterly confident of their mutual devotion.

Finally, Orlov tore himself away. Josef closed the carriage door and climbed on the box, the driver whipped up his horses and the carriage drew away at a spanking pace across the town square and away down the main street towards the east gate, a handkerchief fluttering from the window in a last farewell as it turned the corner and passed out of sight.

Orlov stood staring after it, shivering uncontrollably despite the blazing sunshine, until Kusminsky took him by the arm and said, not unkindly, 'When are you going to admit that you ought to be on sick leave? Come on—bed for you. You're in a fever again.'

At the same moment, a hundred miles to the north, the Russian army was spreading out across low, rounded hills and narrow, wooded valleys around the village of Borodino, where General Kutuzov, now Commander-in-chief, stood surveying his selected battleground. A great eagle soared and wheeled in the sky high above his head and the sun beat
down and sparkled in a myriad points of light from musket and cannon barrels, badges, brassards and bayonets. In the distance, as yet out of sight to all save the eagle, advanced the threatening menace of the Grande Armee.