‘Countess.’ Colin bent over her hand. ‘Dolgoruka? Is that not a Polish name?’
‘I am Polish, Your Highness,’ the Countess said. ‘But I have discovered that I have the same name as one of your charming sisters-in-law.’
Colin looked at Anna. ‘No, no,’ Alexandra said. ‘The Countess has the same name as me.’
‘Isn’t that quaint?’ Alexandra Dolgoruka remarked. ‘Your bevy of beauties is causing quite a stir, Your Highness. I was saying to the Princess that I should very much like to entertain her to tea, if that is permissible?’
‘Well, certainly it is,’ Colin agreed.
‘How nice. I shall send a formal invitation. I am sure we shall have lots to talk about.’ She stood up. ‘It has been a great pleasure meeting you, Your Highness. Ladies.’ She swept away.
Colin sat beside Dagmar. ‘She looks a formidable young woman.’
‘She is. I believe she was the Tsar’s mistress, once.’
‘And is still employed by the Empress? You see, my dear, we are not the only family with an irregular domestic life.’
The music had struck up again, but no one took the floor. Colin looked up to discover the problem, and saw that the Tsar had left his dais, and was walking across the room towards them. Every head turned to follow his progress, fans stopped fluttering, whispers ceased. Colin hastily stood up as he realised that Alexander was indeed coming to him. The sisters and Jennie stood also. ‘Prince Bolugayevski,’ Alexander said. ‘May I impose upon you by asking one of your so lovely ladies to dance with me.’
‘We are honoured, Your Majesty.’
Dagmar swelled with importance. Alexander made her a short bow, then turned to Jennie.
‘Mademoiselle Cromb, would you do me the honour?’
*
‘I have never been so insulted in my life,’ Dagmar declared, as they drove home in the small hours. ‘For His Majesty to dance with that...that...’
‘Cousin?’ Colin suggested. He had had a lot to drink, was very tired, and was absolutely delighted at Jennie’s triumph.
‘I was going to say, serving girl,’ Dagmar remarked.
‘But you didn’t really use those words, did you?’ Colin asked. ‘I just nodded off for a moment.’
‘Ha! As I was saying, for His Majesty to dance with her once was bad enough. But three times...it was an insult to Russian womanhood.’
‘He was certainly smitten. Probably because she is so different to Russian women. I mean, Anna and Alexandra are as fair as can be, and yet their skin does not have the translucent quality of Jennie’s.’
‘I wonder what Vorontsov and his people saw when they were forcing broken glass up her asshole,’ Dagmar said.
‘Dagmar,’ Colin said, ‘if you ever say anything like that again, I am going to beat you so black and blue you will not be able to show yourself in public for a month.’
‘Ha!’ she commented. ‘You mean, when I take tea with the Countess Dolgoruka, you do not wish me to tell her of Jennie’s background? Surely the Tsar has a right to know that the woman with whom he has made a public spectacle of himself with was once arrested by his own police?’
‘If he is to know, I will tell him,’ Colin said. ‘I would remember that, if I were you.’
Dagmar subsided into silence, but she was clearly simmering. He was relieved when they regained the Bolugayevski Palace and he was able to escape her and join the younger women, who were in a state of high excitement. At least, Anna and Alexandra were. Jennie merely looked petrified. ‘Something to tell your grandchildren,’ Colin smiled.
‘If she ever has any,’ Alexandra commented.
‘Oh, she will,’ Anna declared. ‘By the Tsar.’
‘Are you crazy?’ Jennie demanded.
‘He wishes to make you his mistress. Well, everyone could see that.’
‘That is absurd,’ Jennie declared, cheeks pink.
‘It is well known,’ Anna said firmly, ‘that when the Tsar dances three times with any woman, he wishes to make her his mistress. And if she happens to have his child, why, her fortune is made. The Tsar already has an out child, by Olga Kalinovskaya. She is Polish too, you know, just like the Dolgoruka. He has a weakness for non-Russian women.’
Jennie looked at Colin. ‘What am I to do?’
He gave her a hug. ‘Don’t panic, for a start. It hasn’t happened yet.’
‘You cannot possibly refuse the Tsar,’ Anna said. ‘No one can.’
‘I am going to be no man’s mistress,’ Jennie insisted. And flushed. ‘Certainly not his.’
*
The invitation arrived the following morning. It came in the form of a uniformed messenger who carried a key, and a note. Jennie showed it to Colin; her hands were trembling. Should you oblige me by using this key, my messenger will show you the lock. At four o’clock this afternoon. Please oblige me, and I shall be ever thine. The note was not signed. ‘Well, that last promise is a lie for a start,’ Jennie said, ‘if he has a regular harem.’
‘Maybe he is faithful to them all, in his fashion,’ Colin commented.
‘You mean you wish me to go.’
‘I do not wish you to do anything you do not wish to. However, this may be a great opportunity for you.’
She gazed at him for several seconds, an expression he had never seen before on her face. ‘At least,’ he said, ‘you have until four o’clock this afternoon to make up your mind.’
*
‘Do you think she will go?’ Anna lay in Colin’s arms, as they liked to do after lunch.
‘I really have no idea. I have told her that the decision must be entirely hers.’
She rose on her elbow. ‘What will happen if she goes?’
‘She will become the Tsar’s mistress, and, by projection, we will become the Tsar’s favourite people, at least for a while.’
‘How the wheel does turn,’ Anna commented. ‘And what will happen if she does not go?’
‘Then I think we will all pack our bags and return to Bolugayen.’
And you left that decision to her?’
‘After all she has gone through, do you seriously expect me to command her to have sex with anyone, much less someone she has only met once, and is the representative of the government at whose hands she suffered so much?’
‘Who is also the Tsar,’ Anna said reverently, lying down again. ‘Shall I go and speak with her?’
‘Under no circumstances,’ Colin said.
*
Alexandra lay across the foot of Jennie’s bed, watching her perfume herself following her bath. ‘So you are going,’ Alexandra remarked.
‘I haven’t made up my mind,’ Jennie said, hunting through her wardrobe.
‘But...all these preparations...’
‘There is nothing wrong in preparing,’ Jennie said. Alexandra sat up and hugged her knees. ‘I wish he’d asked me. I’d have gone like a shot.’
‘You’d have been committing adultery.’ Jennie put on her shift and then fitted herself into her corset. ‘Give me a hand with these straps.’
‘Oh, pooh.’ Alexandra stood behind her to pull the corset as tight as possible. ‘Everyone commits adultery. Colin and Anna commit adultery every day of their lives. Anyway, you can’t really commit adultery, with a tsar. I’d tell Charles, of course. Do you think he’d mind?’
‘I really don’t know.’ Jennie surveyed her wardrobe. They seemed to have done nothing but shop and employ seamstresses since arriving in St Petersburg, in a determined effort to catch up with current fashion; they had even bought themselves crinolines, garments they had never worn on Bolugayen. Now she dropped hers over her shoulders, and adjusted the straps.
‘He’s your cousin,’ Alexandra pointed out.
‘And I know him no better than you do. In fact, I do not know him as well as you, because I am not married to him. But I would say he would object.’
‘Oh, pooh.’ Alexandra commented again. ‘He couldn’t object if it was the Tsar.’
&
nbsp; ‘Americans don’t have tsars,’ Jennie reminded her. ‘You are going,’ Alexandra deduced.
Jennie surveyed her racks of new clothes. Yes, she thought, I am going. Because the Tsar has commanded it and not to go would be to fail Colin. Oh, Colin, she thought. She did not blame him for anything; she owed him her life. That he had never touched more than her hand, never intruded upon her privacy, never treated her as anything less than a dearly-loved sister, had been bewildering at first. She had lain awake in her bed, awaiting the turning of the door handle. Then she had reckoned that he was still so in love with Anna that he had no time for anyone else. But gradually it had dawned on her that Colin, being the ultimate gentleman, would never approach her, not because of what she had experienced, but because to him she was still a scullery maid.
The odd thing was that she felt, had there been no one else, he might have married her. But while his peculiar code of honour permitted him to have a countess as a mistress, it would never do to treat a scullery maid in the same way. And, she had reflected sadly, even had he married her, it would have been out of pity.
Thus she had accepted a loveless life, save for little Georgei—and he had too much of his father in him. But that did not mean she could not love. With every year, every month, every day she had lived in the shadow of the Prince, she had fallen more deeply in love with him. Without his being the least aware of it.
But then, she had hardly been aware of it herself until the so strange appearance of her cousin, with his wish to carry her back to America with him. She did not doubt for an instant that Charles could give her as much protection and indeed, luxury, in America as Colin could in Russia, and she knew she would have abandoned Georgei without a backwards glance, sure that he was going to grow up to be a Russian aristocrat. But she could not make herself abandon Colin. It was then that she had realised that she loved him, without reservation, and that were he ever to crook his little finger she would crawl into his bed without hesitation, regardless of what memories might thus by aroused. But he had never done that. Instead he was sending her to the bed of another. And she would go, although this might perhaps arouse even more ghastly memories, because it was what he wanted.
From her wardrobe she selected a green silk dress and a grey paletot trimmed with claret-coloured velvet bands and buttons with an attached shoulder cape; the ensemble had a grey velvet bonnet, trimmed with claret and grey-coloured plumes. Her ribbons were grey and her gloves, her undersleeves white. Her gloves were grey. Alexandra clapped her hands in delight. ‘You look superb! You are going, then.’
‘Yes,’ Jennie said. ‘I am going.’
*
A closed landau drew up at the Bolugayevski Palace on the stroke of four.
She got into the carriage and the door was closed on her.
The key was in her reticule, clutched in her hand.
But she could not help but wonder if she was being kidnapped, if some fresh awful fate awaited her. Then she thought of the Tsar’s handsome features; he had not looked like a satyr.
They entered a wood. She had to trust her driver, and even more, her driver’s master. But soon enough they came to a small lodge set quite alone and surrounded by trees. The coach stopped, and the driver jumped down to open the door and assist her out.
‘The key is for the front door, mademoiselle,’ he said, and got back on to his seat.
Jennie watched the landau rumble out of sight, and looked left and right. She was alone. If anyone had lured her here to do her a mischief he, or she, would never have a better opportunity. She had a sudden urgent desire to be inside the house, whatever she might find there. She ran up the few steps, extracted the key from her reticule and thrust it into the hole. It turned easily, and she was inside, closing the door behind her. Then she put the key back in her purse and looked around her.
The room was small, but exquisitely furnished, and although there was no sign of anyone else in the house, it was obvious that there had been someone here recently; there was not a speck of dust to be seen, and in the grate, although it was a warm summer afternoon, there was a roaring fire. In the far corner there was an easel, on which was pinned a large sheet of paper. In the tray there were a collection of crayons of every colour.
A single staircase led up to the first floor. Jennie went up, and looked into the one bedroom. Here too everything was spotlessly clean, and the drapes had been drawn and the covers turned back on the large tester bed. She stood at the window and looked out at the park, and saw a single horseman approaching. Her breathing quickened in time to the pounding of her heart. But she could not be found waiting in the bedroom.
She hurried down the stairs, and sat on the settee. A moment later she heard boots on the floor of the porch. Then a key turned and the door opened. The Tsar wore civilian clothes and looked extremely ordinary, although he remained a handsome man. Now he took off his silk hat and his cape, and placed them on a chair by the door, while gazing at her. Jennie hastily stood up. ‘You have done me a great honour, mademoiselle,’ Alexander said. ‘Will you not take off your coat?’
‘Perhaps I should keep it on, Your Majesty,’ Jennie said.
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Are you cold, mademoiselle?’
‘No, Your Majesty. It is simply that I do not know for how long I shall be staying.’
‘Do you not know why I invited you here?’
‘Yes, Your Majesty. But I fear that you may have been acting under a misapprehension.’
‘In what way?’
‘May I ask what you saw in me, Your Majesty?’
Alexander sat down, intrigued. ‘I saw an entrancingly lovely woman, who also struck me as being an unusually intelligent one. I like the combination. Are you going to claim that you are not lovely? In which case I recommend that you look in the mirror. Or that you are not intelligent? I think that is a decision you should leave to me.’
‘Does my past not interest you, sire?’
His frown returned. ‘Are you then a criminal?’
Jennie drew a deep breath. ‘I have been arrested by the police, sire.’
‘On what charge?’
‘Sedition, and conspiracy to murder.’
‘Indeed? Those are very serious crimes. Capital crimes. Yet you stand before me.’
‘I was released, by order of Prince Bolugayevski.’
‘Who thus must have assumed you innocent. I am perfectly happy to trust his judgement.’
‘Thank you, sire. What I am trying to say is, that I was a prisoner of the police in Poltava for six weeks. I was interrogated by them.’
Alexander gazed at her for several seconds. ‘I understand,’ he said at last. ‘It is a bloody business. Are you then in some way mutilated?’
‘No, sire. But...’
‘Have you then come here to tell me that the very thought of a man repels you?’
‘I do not know, sire.’
‘Oh, come now. Are you not Bolugayevski’s mistress?’
‘I am no man’s mistress, sire.’
Now the stare was one of surprise.
‘He is well-suited, already, sire,’ Jennie said, carefully.
‘By God, but I would say you could be right,’ Alexander agreed. He got up, stood in front of her, held her chin in his hand, and kissed her mouth. ‘I am sorry for what happened. The police have been given so many powers by my predecessors that it will take me a long time to change them, if it is ever possible to do so. There is much sedition in Russia, still. I had hoped that once the serfs were freed...but then, it is early days yet.’ He smiled, and kissed her again. ‘I did not bring you here to talk politics, mademoiselle.’
Jennie could not believe her ears. ‘You mean you wish me to stay, sire?’
He kissed her a third time. ‘I would like to sketch you.’ He walked to the easel and from beside it picked up a thick rug. This he unrolled on the floor in the middle of the room. ‘You do not find it cold in here?’
Jennie shook her head. ‘It is very warm, sir
e.’
‘Good. I find it so. Well, then, would you lie on the rug? Use a cushion for your head, but lie half on your side, facing me.’ Slowly Jennie took off her hat, and placed it in a chair. ‘Oh, let your hair down,’ the Tsar commanded. ‘Your hair is your crowning glory.’ Jennie pulled out the pins and the auburn locks tumbled past her shoulders. ‘Capital.’
She picked up a cushion from the settee and laid it on the rug, then knelt beside it. It was a very long time since she had lain on the floor, and she had no idea what to do with her crinoline. ‘Shall I help you?’ he asked, and held her hands to raise her to her feet, before going round behind her to start untying bows and unfastening buttons.
‘But...you said you wish to paint me,’ she protested.
‘Well, not paint. I am no good at painting. I will draw you,’ Her gown was loose and he eased it forward from her shoulders.
‘You mean you wish to draw me in the nude?’ Jennie asked, stupidly.
‘Of course. How else may one draw, or paint, a beautiful woman, but in the nude. Attractive clothes may make a plain woman look more attractive, but they can only detract from true beauty.’ Jennie’s gown collapsed in a heap round her ankles. Already he was scooping her petticoats from her thighs to lift over her head. In her wildest dreams she had never envisaged herself being undressed by a tsar. ‘Do you know,’ he said chattily, as he untied the crinoline in turn. ‘I think this the ugliest of garments. But I suppose one must follow fashion.’
He unbuckled her corset, still standing behind her, then made her sit in a chair, while he knelt before her to unlace her boots. This is absurd, she thought. He is the autocrat of all the Russias, and he is kneeling before me like a servant. The boots removed, the Tsar slid his hands up her stockings, past her knees, to her thighs, to find her garters, sliding beneath the hem of her drawers. Jennie gave a little sigh and closed her eyes. ‘You do not find me repulsive?’ Alexander asked.
The Seeds of Power Page 21