by Sandra Heath
Language had proved something of a problem, for Katya spoke only Russian, with a spattering of French learned from the young tutor from Lyons with whom she had had a brief liaison. French was therefore the only common ground between maid and new mistress, and it was in this language that they had endeavored to get by. After a few initial misunderstandings they had managed quite adequately, so much so that Alison was able to tell Katya exactly how she wished her hair to be dressed and describe to her the sort of posy of fresh violets she wished to wear on a ribbon around her wrist. Now Katya had gone to purchase such a posy, and she would be back in a few minutes.
It had been very satisfying to again have the choice of her full wardrobe, instead of just the rose dimity or the black-and-white-checked wool. Her father had always provided amply for clothes, knowing that it wouldn’t have done at all for his daughter to be at a disadvantage among her titled fellow pupils, and so she had had a number of suitable gowns from which to choose for the opera. She had decided upon a simple low-necked silver silk with long diaphanous sleeves that were gathered in a lacy frill at the wrist. It had a pretty amethyst buckle on the high waistband directly beneath her breasts, and so she wore with it the amethyst earrings and necklace that had been her mother’s and that thankfully hadn’t been among the few pieces of jewelry she had carried with her on the journey, for those pieces now lay at the bottom of Stockholm harbor. It was because of the amethysts that she had thought a posy of violets would look perfect tied around the gathered frill at her wrist. It was a fashion that she had first seen when Pamela had returned from a Christmas vacation at Marchington House, and soon all the girls at the academy had adopted it for special occasions. It was eye-catching and pretty, and not exorbitantly expensive, provided one was sensible about the flowers one chose. Here in St Petersburg it was early spring, and there were always violets in spring, no matter where one was in the world. She regretted that she didn’t have any violet scent, and so used her customary lavender water.
Her hair was pinned up into a knot on top of her head, with a few wispy silver-blonde curls framing her face. The knot was twined with silver satin ribbons that fluttered at the slightest movement and gave the knot an almost temporary appearance, as if at any moment a cascade of hair would tumble down to brush her naked shoulders.
There was a discreet tap at the bedroom door, and she left the dressing room. ‘Come in, Katya,’ she said.
The door opened and Francis stepped in, smiling slightly.
‘I’ve been called many things in my life, Alison, but Katya isn’t one of them.’
‘I thought it was my maid.’
‘So it seems.’ He paused, his gaze moving slowly over her. He wore a black velvet evening coat, white satin waistcoat, white gloves, a frilled white silk shirt, white silk pantaloons and stockings, and a ruby pin of some size adorned the lacy folds of his neckcloth and there was a chapeau-bras tucked under his arm. He looked the picture of formal elegance, and Alison doubted if there was another man in the world who could match him for style and looks.
His blue eyes met hers and he smiled again. ‘You look very lovely, Alison.’
‘Thank you.’
‘When St Petersburg society sees you tonight, it will understand full well why I wish you to be my bride.’
‘You don’t have to pretend, Francis.’
‘I’m not. I thought I’d made that quite clear.’
She turned away, going to the window to look down into the walled garden. ‘Did you and my uncle go to the Winter Palace?’
‘Yes. I left my name as is the custom, and now I can only wait and hope that Alexander sends for me without delay. I know he’s going to Memel soon, for a meeting with the Prussian emperor, so I trust that he will attend to as much as he can before he leaves.’ He studied her. ‘Aren’t you going to ask if I also called at the embassy?’
‘Did you?’ She faced him again.
‘Naturally. There will be a slight wait before the special license can be issued, something to do with documents, but it will be granted in just under a week. I had hoped that it would be a little more swift, but it can’t be helped. Your aunt isn’t too displeased, however, for now she has time to issue a few more invitations than had initially seemed possible.’
‘Invitations? I thought it was to be a very quiet affair.’
‘And so it will be, but it isn’t going to be hole-and-corner. Alison, I think you’re laboring under something of a misapprehension where this wedding is concerned. There isn’t going to be anything underhanded or shameful about it; it’s going to be a proper ceremony, and at the end of it you will be Lady Buckingham. Your conscience may make you feel guilty about it, but I swear to you that there is no need to blame yourself for anything.’
‘How can you say that! How can you,’ she cried. ‘At this very moment Pamela is at home in England planning for her marriage to you. She loves you, she wrote to me time and time again to say so, and yet here we are, calmly planning to face her with a shocking and unkind fait accompli!’
‘Well, one of us is planning calmly,’ he replied dryly. ‘Very well, let me explain again why I think it is essential that we go through with this. First, there is the need to keep Naryshky’s suspicions at an absolute minimum, and the way to do that is to give him proof that we are the runaway lovers we say we are. Next, there is the far-from-inconsequential matter of your reputation, which has been greatly harmed by events so far. From your manner now, I begin to wonder if you wish to be known as a woman of no virtue. Then there is the shame that will fall upon your family – upon your father in particular – if we decline to tie the knot and you are left with a considerable stain upon your character. And now we have the further complication of your aunt’s father and his difficulty with Naryshky. Do you imagine that Leon Razumov’s situation is going to be improved if Naryshky’s wrath falls upon the occupants of this house? Well, do you?’
‘I – I …’ She couldn’t reply.
‘Put all these things on the scales of justice, and try to balance it with your damned conscience, and I don’t think there’s a very even case, do you?’
‘And in the future, when we’re married—’
‘The marriage will be what we make of it, Alison,’ he interrupted quietly.
There was another tap at the door, and this time it was indeed Katya. She had the posy of violets in her hand, but she looked strangely pale and uneasy.
Alison was concerned. ‘Is something wrong?’ she asked in French.
‘No, madam,’ replied the maid, but it was obvious that she was lying. Something was wrong.
‘Are you sure?’ pressed Alison, not liking to see the girl so disquieted.
‘Everything is all right, madam,’ insisted the maid, hurrying to a drawer to select a suitable ribbon with which to fix the posy to Alison’s wrist, but as she found one and came to tie the flowers in place, Francis shook his head.
‘That isn’t where they’ll show to best advantage. Here, let me.’ He put his hat on the bed and then teased off his white gloves before taking the violets from the maid. ‘Bring a hairpin, if you please,’ he said to her in French.
‘Yes, my lord.’ Katya hurried into the dressing room and returned with the pin.
Francis took it and slid it carefully over the stems of the violets; then he stood in front of Alison, gently pinning the posy to the knot of hair on her head. When he was satisfied that it was in the right place, he moved slowly around her, examining her from every side, and then he halted in front of her again. ‘That’s much better,’ he said, suddenly taking her face in his hands, moving his thumbs against her cheeks.
Her breath caught a little, and she felt telltale color warming her skin. She knew he was going to kiss her, and her lips trembled. She wanted him, she wanted him so much that her whole body ached.
Katya went out discreetly, and he drew Alison gently toward him, kissing her softly at first, but then holding her closer as the kiss lost its gentleness and became more ur
gent. She could feel the firmness of his body against hers, and her own body quivered with forbidden excitement, stirring with the desire that he could always awaken. Her skin tingled at his touch, and the stuff of her gown was so thin that it was as if she were naked in his arms. Her secret was betrayed in that intimate moment. She wasn’t capable of hiding the truth any longer: she loved him, and that love was revealed in all its pain.
He cupped her face in his hands again, gazing down into her guilty eyes. ‘Oh, Alison, Alison,’ he whispered, ‘at this moment I can see into your very soul.’
‘No …’
‘Yes, Alison, because what you try to hide with your eyes is given away by your lips. Your guilty conscience is as much due to your feelings for me as it is to your remorse over Pamela.’ His blue eyes were dark and intense, and he didn’t intend to allow her any quarter. ‘Be honest with me, Alison,’ he said softly.
She pulled away in confusion, moving to the window and looking down into the garden. The shadows were slowly beginning to lengthen, but as she gazed at the summerhouse, all she could see was Pamela’s tearstained, accusing face. The vision seemed to shimmer in the evening light, and it brought a touch of ice to the heat of passion. She stared out and despised herself. Why was he doing this? What reason could he have for pressing so unfairly? Indeed, what reason was there, except the obvious one, that his secret mission must be safeguarded, no matter what the cost?
‘Alison, there is no need to feel guilt—’ he began.
‘Why? Because you feel none?’ she cried, all the emotion suddenly bursting forth. ‘Oh, it’s quite clear that you have no conscience, Francis, for your sole motive in all this is the protection of those documents you carry with you. They are the be-all and end-all for you, and you don’t really care about my reputation, about my family’s feelings, or about Natalia’s father. Those things are just levers that you don’t scruple about using in order to achieve your purpose.’ Was she really saying all this? The words seemed to be spilling out from lips over which she had no control.
For a moment he was silent, but his eyes had frozen. ‘Is that what you really think?’ he asked at last.
‘Yes, for how else am I to think about a man who so lightly accuses his innocent love of still having a tendre for her former suitor?’
‘You sincerely believe that I am shabby and calculating to that degree?’
‘Aren’t you?’
‘No, madam, I am not, but I don’t intend to lower myself to explain to you. If you choose to think that the documents are all that matter to me, then think it. Proceeding on that sole assumption, I must ask you if you intend to renege on your promise to me or if you mean to stand by it and go through with the match?’
His cold anger cut through her like a knife, and it was all she could do to meet his icy gaze. ‘I’ll stand by my word.’
‘I’m all gratitude,’ he murmured acidly, sketching her a derisory bow. ‘Very well, madam, now that we understand each other so well, I suggest that we go down in readiness for the joyous evening ahead.’
‘Francis—’
‘Oh, don’t be alarmed, madam, for I don’t mean to go on in this vein when we are in company. I shall keep it contained until our private little moments together. When we are with others, I will be the tender and adoring lover, make no mistake of that.’ Coldly he offered her his arm.
She felt numb and confused as she picked up her shawl, gloves, and reticule, which Katya had put out in readiness on the back of the fireside chair, then she hesitated. ‘Francis, I didn’t mean to—’
‘But you did all the same, madam,’ he interrupted frostily.
Tears stung her eyes, but she overcame them, placing a shaking hand over his black velvet sleeve. He said nothing more as they left the bedroom and made their way to the head of the staircase.
When Katya withdrew from the room several minutes before, she didn’t linger by the door but made her way quickly toward Natalia’s room, outside which she hesitated, pressing her hands nervously against the crisp folds of her apron. Her tongue felt a little dry in her mouth and she tried to compose herself because she knew that what she had to say would be received with alarm. Taking a deep breath, she knocked at the door.
After a pause it opened and Natalia’s maid looked out. ‘What is it?’ she asked in Russian, her tone superior because she and not Katya was maid to the mistress of the house.
‘I must speak with madame.’
‘She is very busy getting ready.’
‘Please, it’s very important.’
Natalia called out. ‘Who is it, Maria?’
‘It’s Katya, madame. She says she must speak urgently with you.’
‘Come in, Katya.’
Giving the other maid a toss of her head, Katya entered the blue-and-gold bedroom and then went on through into the little dressing room, where Natalia sat at the muslin-draped dressing table. She wore a turquoise silk tunic over a white undergown, and there was a turquoise turban on her head. Strings of fine pearls were looped over the turban and more pearls graced her throat. A turquoise-studded bracelet encircled the wrist of one of her long white gloves, and her shawl trailed carelessly over her lap to the floor. She smiled at Katya in the mirror as the maid entered the dressing-room.
‘What is it, Katya? Is there a problem?’
Katya glanced over her shoulder to where Maria was standing by the brocade-hung four-poster bed, then she looked uneasily at Natalia. ‘I must speak alone with you, madame.’
Natalia was a little surprised, but spoke to Maria. ‘Wait outside, Maria.’
Giving Katya a resentful look, the other maid withdrew, and Natalia smiled. ‘Very well, Katya, what is it you wished to say?’
‘Madame, a short while ago Miss Clearwell sent me out to purchase her a posy of violets to wear tonight, and when I was leaving the house, I noticed a man standing under the trees by the river. He was watching me, and I was a little frightened. Anyway, he didn’t follow me, and so I hurried to the florist and then came back. I looked out for him, but he didn’t seem to be there, but just as I reached the gate into the garden, he stepped out in front of me. He’d been lying in wait.’
Natalia’s lips parted. ‘Who was he? A robber?’
‘Oh, no, madame, for he was an officer in the Preobrazensky Regiment. He said his name was Sergei Mikhailovich Golitsin, and he asked me if I worked in this house. When I said that I did, he told me I was to deliver a message to you.’
‘To me? But I do not know this Sergei Mikhailovich Golitsin,’ said Natalia.
‘No, madame, but you know the person from whom the message comes.’
‘And that is…?’
‘Prince Naryshky, madame.’
Natalia’s green eyes widened a little and her face became paler. ‘The prince? What is the message?’
‘That if you have any regard for your father, you will meet the prince tomorrow at noon by the bronze horseman in St Isaac’s Square, and that neither you nor I is to mention any of this to anyone else.’
‘Did he say anything else?’
‘Not concerning you, madame.’
‘But he did say something?’
Katya nodded. ‘He asked me about Miss Clearwell and the English lord. He wished to know what their plans were tonight, and so I told him that you were all going to the opera to hear Don Giovanni. He pressed to know if everyone was traveling together, or if anyone would be following alone, and I told him that you would all go in the same carriage.’
Natalia rose slowly to her feet, her shawl slipping to the floor. ‘Are you quite sure that’s all he said about my father? Just that if I had any regard for him I would meet the prince at noon tomorrow?’
‘By the bronze horseman. Yes, madame.’
‘Thank you, Katya, that will be all. You may return to Miss Clearwell.’
‘Yes, madame.’
As Katya withdrew, Natalia rested her trembling hands on the dressing table, her head bowed for a moment. What did this mean?
Did it bode well or ill for her father? Oh, how was she going to endure until noon tomorrow?
She raised her head again, gazing at her face in the mirror. And why had this Golitsin person asked about Alison and Lord Buckingham? What did they have to do with something concerning her father?
Maria came to the dressing room. ‘Madame? Monsieur is ready, and the carriage is at the door.’
‘Very well.’
Mackay waited in the entrance hall with the ladies’ fur-lined evening cloaks and the gentlemen’s greatcoats. Alison, Francis, and Mr Clearwell were ready.
Thomas Clearwell smiled admiringly at his wife as she descended the staircase. ‘My dear, you look charming.’
‘Thank you, Thomas,’ she replied.
He couldn’t help but notice her subdued tone. ‘Are you quite well, my dear?’
‘Yes, quite well. Don’t fuss, Thomas,’ she replied, giving him a quick smile as she turned for Mackay to place her sable cloak around her shoulders.
A moment or so later they all four emerged into the cold evening air, where the sun was still well above the horizon even though it was now very late indeed. A carriage and four was waiting at the curb, and as the door closed upon the small party, the bearded coachman cracked his whip and swiftly brought his team up to a smart trot along the broad pavement of English Quay.
As the carriage drove past the river side of St Isaac’s Square, Natalia looked toward the great bronze equestrian statue of Peter the Great, by which she would meet the prince the next day. What did he want of her? Did he merely wish to inform her that the estate at Novgorod was going to Bragin’s nephew and that her father and family were to be turned out? Her lips trembled and she swallowed, toying with the strings of her reticule.
The carriage halted at the crowded curb outside the magnificent opera house, and several liveried footmen immediately hastened forward to open the door and lower the iron rungs. Francis and Mr Clearwell alighted first, pausing to tuck their hats under their arms.
Alone in the carriage with Natalia for a moment, Alison leaned concernedly across to her. ‘Are you sure you feel quite well? You seem very pale,’