Mom did.”
The sound of the doorbell jerked Brandy to alertness. She smoothed down her dress and checked her reflection in the mirror before opening the door. Here goes, she thought.
Vladimir stood on the porch, smiling at her. Her breath caught a bit. They’d been dating a long time, but this was the first time they’d been alone together. Really alone. No servants. No Mom. Brandy still felt Donna’s loss keenly. But a person had to move on. This dinner was an effort to do that.
“Come in, please.” Brandy smiled as Vladimir brought his left hand from behind his back with a flourish. His eyes twinkled a bit. “A guest should not arrive empty-handed. So, I brought you this.”
This was not flowers or candy, or even a bottle of wine. Vladimir had brought a bag of coffee beans. Brandy grinned. “Good. We’ll have some later.” She stood aside and waved Vladimir inside. “Dinner will be ready in just a moment. I hope you like it.”
Vladimir looked around the room. “You have changed a few things, Branya. Not much, just a little. The home seems somehow more your own, now.”
“Just a little.” Brandy felt sad for a moment. “I loved my mother, but I never cared for that ‘country’ look she liked so much. So I sort of streamlined the room a bit.” A dinging sound came from the kitchen. “One thing about a house this size, you can hear the timer. Come on in. The table is ready and it sounds like dinner is, too.”
Brandy ushered Vladimir into the small dining area where she had used Donna’s best china and crystal to set the table. “Have a seat. I’ll be right back.”
Brandy came back with a large platter of something. Noodles, Vladimir thought. He was fond of noodles. But what was covering them? It smelled wonderful, whatever it was.
Brandy set the platter on the table. “I’ve got no idea if this is really a Russian dish. But Cora said it was, so I tried it. I hope it’s good. I’m not really much of a cook. Mom tried, but I wasn’t very interested, to tell the truth.”
The smell had Vladimir salivating. “I don’t care if it’s Russian, Branya. It smells wonderful. Just wonderful.”
Brandy smiled widely and served Vladimir a portion of the dish, whatever it was. She poured wine for them both and indicated the salad and bread on the table. “Thank heaven for greenhouses. We always had lettuce back then. I’d miss it if we didn’t have it here, even if it isn’t the iceberg I’m used to.” Apparently noticing Vladimir’s hesitation, she urged, “Go ahead. Dig in.”
Vladimir did. The scent was marvelous and the taste even more so. It only needed one thing. “Is there, perhaps, some smetana?”
Brandy gave him a look and he grinned guiltily. Brandy had commented before about his liking for smetana. He put it in nearly everything he ate, including stew. “It has quite a bit in it already.” She passed him the dish full of sour cream. “But I knew you’d want more. Is it all right? Does it taste good?”
Vladimir nodded, busying himself with the dish. “Marvelous.” He added sour cream to his plate. “Marvelous. I’m afraid I’m ruined for Russian cooking, at least the cooking back in my Russia. Ruined. I may never wish to go back, just for the flavor of the food alone. What is this called?”
“Beef Stroganoff.”
Vladimir ate until Brandy was pretty sure he was about to explode.
“Marvelous,” he said. Several times. Well, it was, but that was only part of the reason he kept saying it. Vladimir was terrified.
After dinner, over coffee in the living room, Brandy began to feel a little awkward. What did you say now? How did you handle this kind of privacy when you didn’t have any intention of needing, well, this kind of privacy? Not yet, at any rate.
Vladimir solved the problem by beginning to speak. “Natasha tells me that the situation in Russia is quite tense. Czar Mikhail has vaguely suggested a constitution to replace the agreement he made on assuming the throne. Such a document would be binding not only on him, but on all future czars. Most importantly though, it would also be binding on the Boyar Duma and bureaus and replace the Zemsky Sobor with an elected legislature or perhaps turn the Assembly of the Land into such a congress.”
“Yes. Natasha mentioned it. I understand that the income tax and the business tax are meeting quite a bit of resistance.”
“That’s a diplomatic way of putting it.” Vladimir laughed. “I worked it out. It would cost my family several million of your dollars every year. While my family is quite well off, we’re not the richest nobles in Russia, not by any means. If that tax is done just a little bit wrong, it could ruin half the nobles in Russia. I sent my sister a description of your system of tax deductions for things like capital investment along with Cass and Bernie’s ‘Precious.’ Frankly, I don’t think it will happen unless Czar Mikhail can come up with something to sweeten the pot.”
“So, what can he give them?”
“For right now, I’m not sure.” Vladimir leaned back on the couch. “But in a few years, relief from having to have serfs might do it.”
“Don’t count on it, Vladimir.” Brandy shook her head. “The serfs could end up as factory workers and have even less freedom than they have now. ‘I owe my soul to the company store.’ If it could happen in America, where we-at least in theory-all had the same rights, think how much easier it could happen in Russia where serfs are already restricted in when they can quit.”
Vladimir sighed. “I know. Adam Smith and all your economists tell us that free labor is more productive than slaves or serfs. That slavery and serfdom is bad for the economy of the nation. But what they usually neglect to mention is that it’s still very profitable for the people who own the slaves.” He looked down at his coffee cup.
“Brandy, I’ve lived here for a long time and have accepted many of your principles, but that doesn’t mean my countrymen have. I agree that serfdom must be eliminated but I don’t see any way to do it.”
When Brandy got up to light the gas lights against the darkening of the room, Vladimir moved just a tad closer to her end of the sofa. Whenever she leaned forward to pour more coffee, or stood to busy herself with something, he moved just a little bit closer. Eventually, Vladimir was right where he wanted to be. Close, nearly touching.
Brandy looked a little nervous when she discovered just how close he was. Deciding not to give her, or himself, a chance to bolt, Vladimir took one of her hands in his own. “Branya, I have something I want to speak of, something that is not about Bernie or even about Russia.”
Brandy’s breath caught just a bit before she nodded at him. “You can speak to me about anything, Vladimir. What is it?”
He had been quite confident of her response when he had written the letters asking permission from Czar Mikhail and informing Natasha of his intent. Somehow, that confidence had disappeared when he had been informed that Mikhail had agreed to the marriage-at least conditionally. The condition being that she make a valid conversion. And Natasha had informed him that several ladies from Russia would be coming to Grantville to look Brandy over. At that point he had seen the looming disaster of the dragons arriving to inspect her before he even asked for her hand.
But Vladimir was still hesitating and Brandy was looking at him expectantly. “I am not one of your up-time men, Branya. And I may not have the correct words. But I have grown very… fond of you. Very fond. And I, I…” Vladimir paused a moment. “I wish you to be my wife, Branya. I wish it very much.”
Brandy’s eyes glittered in the candlelight. “Wife? You want to get married?”
“I do,” Vladimir said. He watched her face closely. What would she answer?
“Yes.”
Half an hour later, after some very pleasant kissing and some not so pleasant explanation. Brandy wasn’t quite so sure.
“We don’t do that,” Vladimir said, sounding a bit desperate. “Abandon thy family, abjure thy name.” He shook his head. “It sounds glorious, but Romeo and Juliet ended up dead. Were I to marry without the czar’s consent, our family’s property could be seized and my sister could end her life in a convent. Forced to take holy orders. Not
