The Jewels of Sofia Tate
The Jewels of Sofia Tate
Doris Etienne
Copyright © Doris Etienne, 2009
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise (except for brief passages for purposes of review) without the prior permission of Dundurn Press. Permission to photocopy should be requested from Access Copyright.
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Copy Editor: Barry Jowett
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Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Etienne, Doris
The jewels of Sofia Tate / by Doris Etienne.
ISBN 978-1-55488-230-4
I. Title.
PS8609.T43 J49 2009 jC813’.6 C2009-900504-2
1 2 3 4 5 13 12 11 10 09
We acknowledge the support of the Canada Council for the Arts and the Ontario Arts Council for our publishing program. We also acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Book Publishing Industry Development Program and The Association for the Export of Canadian Books, and the Government of Ontario through the Ontario Book Publishers Tax Credit program, and the Ontario Media Development Corporation.
Care has been taken to trace the ownership of copyright material used in this book. The author and the publisher welcome any information enabling them to rectify any references or credits in subsequent editions.
J. Kirk Howard, President
All scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the New King James Version ®. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
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For my sons, David, Michael, and Benjamin, who never doubted,
and my husband, James, who always believed in me
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank everyone who assisted in any way with providing me the little details, all of which eventually helped to put this story together, but especially: Lynn Weimer for her medical expertise; Karen and Amy Stickel, and Ann Mclnnis, my first readers, for their valuable comments; Kathy Stinson and Lyn Hamilton, past Edna Staebler Writers-in-Residence at the Kitchener Public Library, for their helpful feedback on early drafts of parts of this book; and the lovely, dedicated, and talented women of the Kitchener Public Library Writers’ Collective — Susan V. Barclay, Sharon Blomfield, Kimberlee Feick Lowry, Paula Kienapple-Summers, Tracie Klaehn, and Jennifer Ross, for their thoughtful insight, criticism, suggestions, and encouragement. I couldn’t have done it without you.
I would also like to thank Michael Carroll, editorial director at Dundurn Press, for giving me this most remarkable opportunity; my sons, David, Michael, and Benjamin Etienne, for their continuous enthusiasm; and my husband, James Etienne, for his ongoing support and encouragement to live my dreams.
Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you.
— Matthew 7:7, New King
James Version
Prologue
Russia 1895
Masha whinnied as Marie led her from the stall.
“Shhh, Masha,” Marie whispered, reaching up to stroke her mane. “Shhh, easy now.”
She guided the mare behind the building and mounted her a short distance away, swinging a bag with only a change of clothes and a small amount of money up with her. She looked at the starry sky and breathed in the crisp early autumn air. It would soon be light. She had no time to waste.
They began at a walk, slowly at first, so no one would hear, and when they had moved far enough away from the house, Marie urged the horse into a canter. Her heart beat wildly as she thought of what her father would do when he discovered her gone, five days before the wedding was to take place. But if she was ever to be happy, she had to take that chance. She did not love the Count Uvorov and she would not marry him no matter what her father wanted. Her mother would have understood.
She clutched tightly at her coat, feeling for the slight bulge beneath. Everything was safe, sewn securely inside. The pearls would be sold when money was needed and the treasured heirloom ... Well, that was another matter.
She remembered the day it had been given to her. It was her eighteenth birthday and her mother had already begun to fade by then. But she was sitting up in bed that day when Marie entered the room and bent over to kiss her mother on the cheek.
“Happy birthday, my dear,” her mother said with a weak smile. Then her eyes twinkled mischievously. “I have something special for you.” She pulled an oblong box out from under the covers and handed it to Marie. “You are old enough now and I must give this to you while I am still able.”
Marie’s hands shook with excitement as she lifted the lid, then nearly dropped the box when she eyed its contents. “Mama! This must be worth a fortune!” she said breathlessly.
“Yes, but you must promise me that, no matter what, you will never part with it. You must not sell any piece of it and it must never fall into the wrong hands. Do you understand?” Her mother’s voice was sharp.
Marie nodded.
Her mother went on. “Above all,” she said, licking her dry lips, “do not tell anyone that you have it. Not even your father. Especially not your father. He has mishandled our finances and thinks that I do not know. He fooled me for years about many things but in the end, the truth always comes out.” She gave a deep sigh. “Once I am gone, Marie, unless there is a miracle, there will be no more money for him at all. My brother has only helped us for my sake, but there is no love lost between those two. Your father’s only hope to climb out of debt would
