I headed to the sickroom and peeked inside. Madame Tomilov was bent over Dariya’s bed, her hand on my cousin’s cheek. Dariya’s breathing was slow but even. The headmistress looked up and frowned when she saw me. “Go to class, Katerina Alexandrovna. There has been no change in her status.”
Sighing, I went back downstairs and hurried to my next class before I was missed.
It wasn’t long before everyone in the school knew of Dariya’s mysterious illness. Later that morning, Aurora Demidova passed out in French class, and during the lunch hour, two of the servants fell ill. I tried to return to the sickroom to check on Dariya, but Madame Metcherskey would not excuse me from my music lessons. She glared at me for an agonizing hour as I practiced my scales on the harp. With a rebellious, and possibly devious, impulse, I played the chords as loud as I could. If I had to play the harp, I would make sure the angels in heaven heard me.
My fingers were bleeding by the time the class was over and I could finally leave and visit the sickroom.
Dariya was lying as still as death in her bed, but her cold light had not changed. The bright swirls wrapped around her like a snowy-white cocoon. Beside her, Madame Orbellani sat reading a book. She looked up and smiled sadly. “No change, my dear,” she said. “Have you visited the chapel to light a candle for your cousin?”
I shook my head sadly. “I wanted to see her first.” I picked up Dariya’s cold hand. She was still breathing, but it was very shallow. “What did the doctor say?”
Madame Orbellani shrugged. “Dr. Gallitzin said only that he believes the girls have influenza, and that he would return in the morning to check in on them.”
Aurora Demidova slept on a nearby cot, her face as pale as Dariya’s and her hands even colder.
“What does he recommend as treatment?” I asked. I noticed a porcelain bowl with dried blood in it slid partially under Aurora’s cot. Had the doctor decided to bleed them both? I drew the blanket back to search my cousin’s arms, but there were no cut marks. I sighed in relief.
Madame Orbellani put a hand on my shoulder. “I know you are worried for Dariya Yevgenievna. And the other girls. But you must allow the doctor to do what he thinks is best. No meddling, Katerina Alexandrovna.”
I was awake all night, my thoughts racing in my head. Elena slept soundly, I noticed. She seemed remarkably healthy. The cold light that surrounded her was nothing but a faint gray mist.
I did not believe for one moment that Dr. Gallitzin was right. My cousin was not suffering from flu. There had been no fever or cough, no other reports of influenza in St. Petersburg.
I knew Elena was responsible somehow. She’d been mad at Dariya for disparaging her family. But I couldn’t make sense of Aurora and the two servants. I doubted Elena even knew the servant girls existed. And why hadn’t I become ill? I was the focus of her attention more often than not. She wanted something from me. Was she trying to frighten me?
I could not sleep, so I saw no point in lying in bed any longer. I pulled on my wrap and looked out the window at the pale gray sky. Creeping quietly down the hall, I peeked in the room where Dariya and Aurora were both sleeping. The cold light enshrouding them had not changed in its intensity overnight. The light gave me no clue to the nature of the illness. Was it caused by a contagion or by a Montenegrin spell? Without any firm evidence of supernatural causes, I had to assume that it was a natural illness, and that it could be cured. Dariya was moaning softly in her sleep, and I could see the glistening beads of sweat on her brow. Madame Orbellani dozed in the chair beside them, oblivious to the world.
I didn’t like the way Dariya looked. She did not seem to be improving at all.
The large clock downstairs chimed five. It would be hours before breakfast time. Returning to my room and quietly getting dressed, I decided to sneak out to speak with Dr. Kruglevski. Whatever was wrong with the girls, surely he would be the best man to examine my cousin and the other patients.
The large front hall was dark and quiet. The heavy front door locked from within and was guarded by an elderly doorman, who still wore his faded black uniform from his younger days in the regiments. I waited until he left his post to make his rounds, then quietly unlocked the door and slipped outside.
The late-January morning was bitterly cold, but I did not mind. The Smolny Gardens were beautiful in their icy barrenness. I skipped past them and turned down Slonovaya Ulitsa. Crossing through the Peski District, I passed sleeping town houses and newly constructed apartment buildings. There were few sleighs about this early in the morning. I hoped I looked like some poor factory girl on her way to work. Nobody bothered me.
The Oldenburg Hospital was just beyond the Greek church. Dr. Kruglevski liked to make rounds on his patients before going to his research lab every morning.
The nurses, in their flowing white habits, did not look happy to see me. A stout, grim-faced nurse met me at the front door. “Our patients are sleeping! Come back during visiting hours!” she told me.
I shook my head, teeth chattering. “I am here to see Dr. Kruglevski.”
“Are you ill, child? Where are your parents?”
I wasn’t sure if being the daughter of the hospital’s patron would help me or hinder me at this time of the day. I coughed a little. “Please, madam, I am from the Smolny Institute. I’ve been feverish and restless all night.” I had no idea who would be maddest when they discovered my charade: the nurses, my parents, or the headmistress at Smolny. I shivered.
The nurse noticed and quickly hurried me inside. “Come along, then. It’s much warmer in here, by the stove. Dr. Kruglevski is already making rounds. He can see you in just a moment.” She sat me by the fire, wrapped me in a woolen blanket, and handed me a hot mug of tea before bustling off to take care of the patients on the ward.
The doctor recognized me instantly. “Duchess! What in heavens are you doing here at such an hour?” he asked. “Is your mother well?”
Drawing the blanket closer around me, I said, “Doctor, some of the students at Smolny have been afflicted with the strangest illness. I’ve come to beg for your assistance.”
The doctor took a cup of tea one of the nurses handed him, and sat in the chair opposite me. “A strange illness? Tell me of the symptoms.”
“It starts with stomach pains and general malaise, followed within several hours by coldness in the extremities and muscle weakness,” I said. “So far only four girls have become sick, including two servants.”
I’d spent my entire study hour the day before trying to discover what the sick servants had in common with Aurora and Dariya. Something that would explain why they were the only four in the school who were ill. I’d not been able to come up with anything.
“It could be food poisoning,” the doctor mused, stirring his tea thoughtfully.
“But the illness seems to strike randomly. Madame Metcherskey called for Dr. Gallitzin but he thinks it is a touch of influenza.”
“Bah! Gallitzin is a fool. Believes leeches can still cure everything.”
I nodded in agreement. The man wasn’t open to modern thoughts or treatments.
“Very well, I will come and examine your sick friends. What did your cousin eat last?”
I struggled to think. She had walked with me in the gardens, where we had eaten pieces of rock candy, and then we’d had cold mutton and borscht and lemon tarts for our welcome-back dinner. Dariya had eaten with the rest of us, but she and the others had not become ill until the morning—and had not come into direct contact with any of the other sick girls until they were all confined to the sickroom.