Chapter 4: Her Things

The morning after the Commission, I went back to the house for my clothes.

My father wanted to send forty men.

I took one.

Lev stood beside me on the drive, in the same grey coat, with both hands empty at his sides.

"Inside the gate," my father had told him, "you are her shadow. Not one step behind her."

"Yes, Fyodor Andreyevich."

"If anyone lays a finger on her, I don't need a reason."

"Understood."

The housekeeper opened the front door before I reached it.

She did not meet my eyes.

"Mr. Greco said you could take what you like, madam," she said. "He's at the dock office until noon."

That meant I had three hours.

I went straight up the stairs with Lev one step behind me.

The guest room door was open.

Someone had already put sheets on the bed and a vase of white roses on the dresser.

I walked past it to the room I had slept in for five years and stopped in the doorway.

My side of the closet had been emptied onto the floor.

Not packed. Emptied.

Every dress lay in a heap, and every shoe had been thrown on top.

"Madam," the housekeeper said behind me, wringing her hands. "He told me to do it this morning. I'm so sorry."

"It's all right."

"I can fold them."

"Leave it. Please. I'll do it myself."

I knelt and started sorting.

I did it very fast, because I didn't want Lev to see my face.

I felt him in the doorway, a quiet weight, looking at the hall.

When I stood up with two full bags, a soft voice said, "Do you want some tea?"

Alessia stood in the hall in a pink cardigan with her hand on her belly.

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