Katerina's Secret

by Mary Jane Staples

  Edward did some work. It was difficult to divorce his mind from the unbelievable, but he managed it to some extent. He wrote in short bursts. His flowing pencil halted at times, and he sat looking unseeingly at his notes for long moments.

  The police arrived. He heard them. He heard the voice of Inspector Cartier and the voice of Madame Michel. He heard them go upstairs, to Valery’s room. They were there quite a while.

  Celeste brought him tea at four thirty in answer to his request.

  ‘The police have been and gone,’ she said. ‘Mama is feeling wretched. All the questions. But what can anyone say? They’ve taken away all Monsieur Valery’s things, all of them.’

  ‘Celeste, nothing must be said that will make the police ask questions of the countess. You agree, my infant?’

  ‘With all my heart,’ said Celeste. ‘You haven’t told her about Monsieur Valery?’

  ‘No, I haven’t,’ said Edward. ‘The tragedy of Dr Kandor was quite enough for her, even though she didn’t know Valery.’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Celeste earnestly. She poured the tea for him. ‘I’m so glad you care so much for her, especially as we’ve now discovered she has eyes only for you.’

  ‘Dear heaven,’ said Edward, ‘your imagination will carry you off to the moon one day.’

  ‘Oh, I’m extremely attached to the moon, m’sieur. Do you think everything would be for the best if you and Madame could bring yourselves to make up your minds?’

  ‘I feel I shouldn’t ask,’ said Edward, ‘but I must. Make up our minds about what?’

  ‘About taking care of each other always.’

  Edward smiled at her air of innocence.

  ‘Oh, I’m something of a ruin, my angel, as you well know, and could take very little care of any woman.’

  ‘Well!’ Celeste expressed disgust. ‘Well! Whoever heard such nonsense? Every year you’ve taken good care of me, and Mama says no one could have been more of a problem than I was as a girl.’

  ‘You’re a woman now?’ said Edward.

  ‘But anyone can see I’ve grown, anyone.’ Celeste regarded her figure with unselfconscious satisfaction. ‘Oh, if you persist in avoiding sweet fate, then a most dreadful one will await you – you will find yourself having to marry me.’

  He laughed. Celeste smiled. She liked very much to bring him to laughter.

  ‘That would hardly frighten any man to death, Celeste.’

  ‘I must go and see that Madame’s tea is to her liking.’

  ‘Celeste, will you tell her I’ll be ready to take her for the drive at five o’clock?’

  ‘Oh, a drive is arranged? A lovers’ excursion? I am enchanted for you. I go – I fly – see, I am gone.’

  In the most guileless fashion, Celeste advised Katerina that at five o’clock Edward and his carriage would await her in breathless anticipation.

  ‘He said that, Celeste? Breathless anticipation?’

  ‘Perhaps those were not his exact words,’ said Celeste, ‘but as you know, madame, he’s a man most romantic in his speech and I shouldn’t think I’m too far out in my interpretation of his message.’

  ‘Thank you, Celeste,’ said Katerina gravely. ‘But he’s better? He looked so drawn a while ago.’

  ‘Oh, he has the healthiest beam in his eye now,’ said Celeste. ‘Madame, I will tell you, he’s always better lately than he wishes us to know. Alas, I’m afraid he puts on an air of frailty in case some importunate lady or other sets her cap at him. He thinks he would make a deplorable husband. There have been ladies here in the past who would willingly have embraced him and taken him to their warm hearts, but no, he has avoided their tender arms—’

  ‘Oh, Celeste!’ Katerina laughed in joy. ‘You’re making this up, you delicious girl. You are as incorrigible as— Never mind, you are just incorrigible.’

  ‘No, no,’ protested Celeste. ‘There’s Mademoiselle Dupont now, a lady from Paris. Ah, Paris, that dreadful city. You can imagine, madame, how hungry Mademoiselle Dupont is. Oh, I assure you. She’s already made up her mind that Edward is the most interesting man here, and therefore she’s very set on him.’

  ‘I’m going to dislike Mademoiselle Dupont,’ said Katerina.

  ‘Oh, a covetous woman, most detestable,’ said Celeste. ‘A spider from Paris. She will eat Edward. Think, madame, of Edward slowly disappearing into her web—’

  ‘Celeste!’ Katerina laughed again. ‘Stop this. It’s more than I can bear. Tell Edward I’ll be ready at five, and that I hope he may be breathless but not entangled.’

  ‘Yes, madame, immediately.’

  ‘If not at once,’ smiled Katerina.

  Heavily veiled, Katerina left the hotel with Edward just after five, and they drove in the most leisurely way. The clouds had gone, the afternoon sun warmed the Riviera, and Edward proceeded through La Roche and then turned right to take the winding and narrow lanes that led to tiny villages away from the coast. He drove into quietness. Katerina breathed deeply. Again she felt an exhilarating sense of freedom and pleasure. Boris Sergeyovich was a grief still, but Edward was beside her, and Edward was close and caring. The scent of the wild flowers and the pines was a fragrance, a delight, and the world was open to her.

  Katerina was set to tease him a little in her pleasure.

  ‘Edward,’ she said, ‘I’m told you’re being pursued by a charming lady from Paris, a guest at the hotel.’

  ‘Am I?’ He felt he was beyond all reality. He felt himself engulfed by the impossible. The only reality was in her grace and her enchantment. Everything else was so unbelievable that dreams existed in place of reality.

  ‘You are enjoying the pursuit?’ The veil that covered her face fluttered lightly to her breath.

  ‘I’m not even aware of it. What lady in her right mind would want to pursue me?’

  ‘But you are as eligible as any man could be,’ said Katerina. ‘I was not myself brought up to pursue a prospect, but the war has brought a social change of dire consequences.’

  ‘Dire?’

  ‘Why, yes, Edward,’ she murmured, ‘for it’s possible Mademoiselle Dupont may catch you.’

  ‘Hard luck on her if she does,’ said Edward, as they motored gently through a village in which wild vines clung to cottage walls. ‘She’ll find she’s caught only half a prospect. I’m no more than that, and there’s an end to it, Katerina.’

  ‘You are ridiculous,’ said Katerina.

  Edward frowned.

  ‘One should be honest,’ he said.

  ‘One should be very honest,’ said Katerina, ‘but not absurd. I’m sure Emily thought you were not only absurd but unfair.’

  ‘No, I don’t think so. Shall we talk about Bulgaria?’

  ‘No,’ said Katerina, watching the dusty road and the glint of the sun on the brass of the headlamps. She was out, she was about, she had escaped her walls. And she was so exhilarated that she was teasing Edward.

  ‘Then let’s talk about what you’re going to do,’ he said. ‘Have you decided?’

  ‘I have not,’ she said. ‘Edward, you are my friend, the only one I have, apart from Celeste. You must decide.’

  ‘I?’

  ‘Yes. I’m a woman of my own times, I’m not a – what is the word they use today?’

  ‘A flapper?’

  ‘Yes. In my own times, we were taught gracious and correct ways of behaviour. I can’t escape my own pattern. Gentlemen, to me, exist to prevent ladies from drowning. Ladies exist to make their own contributions to life. To expect help from a friend isn’t a principle I object to – no, not at all.’ She was light of voice, and she was smiling, but she was no longer teasing. ‘To me, it’s a pleasure to know that one’s troubles can be taken care of by one’s dearest friends.’

  He brought the Bentley to a stop in the narrow road. On either side lay the terraced slopes carrying the grapevines, the crop long since harvested. He turned to her. She was colourful in a light, pale pink coat worn over a white dress that was fashion
ably short. Her long legs shone in white silk stockings, rounded knees peeping. He was acutely aware of her physical presence, the effect of the slender, shapely body on his masculine consciousness. Despite the veil, she was vivid and alive, and heady in her beauty. The impossible again induced the sense of unreality.

  ‘Katerina, anything I can do, I’ll gladly do,’ he said.

  ‘I know,’ she said, ‘and that is precious to me.’ She put her veil up, and she was there for him to touch and to kiss, if he wanted to, if he only knew. Her past was her own, locked away, but there were all the years of the future. She suddenly felt almost scalded by the realization that she did not have to go to America, that she could make her own decision. But her grey eyes, soft beneath the shade of her brimmed hat, carried the message that she would willingly let the decision be his.

  ‘You must leave your villa, you must leave La Roche?’ he said.

  ‘Yes, I must at least do that.’

  ‘And I must ask no questions, Katerina?’

  ‘Everyone asks questions, except you.’

  ‘You need a new home, a quiet place?’

  ‘A very quiet place, Edward.’

  ‘Then we must think about it, sleep on it, and talk about it tomorrow.’

  ‘Yes, Edward, very well,’ she said, and put out a hand and touched his. It was as much as she could do, because she was a woman of yesterday. It was a light and caressing touch, a momentary one. He smiled, restarted the car, and drove on, making a round tour of their outing.

  When they returned to the hotel, most of the guests were gathered in the lounge enjoying aperitifs. Celeste was in the lobby, however, talking to Colonel Brecht. He, fixing his monocle in his eye to peer at Katerina in her veil, gave her a little bow.

  ‘Good evening,’ said Katerina. Edward gave the colonel a smile and ushered her on to her room.

  ‘You’ll take dinner here?’ he said.

  ‘I would rather,’ she said. She would have liked to dine with Edward, she would have liked to have met some of the guests, to have moved among them with Edward and proved to herself that she had not become a recluse. ‘If you wish to do some writing this evening, I shall be quite happy. The drive was lovely. Thank you, Edward.’

  ‘Yes, I’ll do some writing and thinking,’ he said.

  ‘There is—’ She hesitated, showing the faintest of flushes. ‘Edward, there is more to think about than a suitably quiet place.’

  He wondered, as he entered his room, exactly what she meant by that.

  Dinner was a quiet meal. Mademoiselle Dupont looked for a moment as if she was about to direct herself towards Edward’s table, but changed her mind. She did suggest a game of billiards afterwards. Colonel Brecht and Rosamund were willing, but Edward excused himself. Immediately after the meal, he returned to his room. He knew he must do some work. He was falling behind. He began to write. But there was no release from his awareness of the unbelievable. He wanted her with him, he wanted to look at her, to indulge the fascination she had for him. He knew that if he knocked, if he took the dominoes, she would be warm and receptive. She would sit at her table with him, laughing and competitive. She would look like a young and striking empress. How strange, that air of being young, as if the joys she had known had placed their indelible mark on her, the mark of years happy and idyllic. Only the shadows that sometimes came to her eyes spoke of other things.

  He must stay with his work.

  He persevered, although her image floated before him in the light of the table lamp.

  For no reason at all, he suffered an attack, a violent one.

  Celeste, carrying a tray of empty coffee cups to the kitchen, heard him. She delivered the tray to Marie and hurried to his room. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, his handkerchief to his mouth, his face dark with the pain of squeezed lungs.

  ‘M’sieur, where are your tablets?’

  ‘I’ve taken one.’ He coughed into his handkerchief. He hit his chest with his hand. ‘Give me a moment, angel of love and mercy.’

  ‘Oh, m’sieur, even when you’re in pain you’re sweet to me. Who could wish for a lovelier man?’

  Edward managed a smile.

  ‘You could wish for one who didn’t creak so much,’ he said.

  ‘I will bring cognac, yes?’ said Celeste. ‘A cognac? Only say, and I will fly for it.’

  Edward straightened his back.

  ‘Celeste, you are France’s joy. Cognac will be splendid, and with a coffee, perhaps?’

  ‘Oh, at once – immediately.’ She turned at the door. ‘Oh, first, Inspector Cartier has telephoned. He’s coming tomorrow to ask questions of everyone who became acquainted with Monsieur Valery while he was here. But you weren’t acquainted with him, nor was Madame. Mama will see to it that you two aren’t bothered. M’sieur – Edward – I fly.’

  She knocked on the door two minutes later. She opened it. But it was Katerina who entered, Katerina who bore the tray containing coffee and brandy, and Celeste closed the door on them.

  ‘You see?’ said Katerina. ‘Celeste is so busy. I’m not busy at all. Edward, it was a bad attack?’

  ‘No, not at all. A brief one. Over and done with.’ He stood up, clearing papers from the table. Katerina set the tray down.

  ‘I may stay a while?’ she said. ‘It won’t tire you if I do, or be considered too scandalous?’

  ‘I think we’ll escape headlines,’ he said. ‘I doubt if we can compete with the German airship which has just crossed the Atlantic.’

  But perhaps she could, he thought. If the impossible was not impossible, she could indeed.

  They sat down at the table together. She was quiet for a while, watching him as he drank the coffee and sipped the brandy. The colour returned to his face.

  ‘Celeste told me you’d had an attack,’ she said then, ‘and that you wished for coffee and cognac, that she was attending to it at once, if not immediately. She’s delicious, isn’t she, Edward?’

  ‘Celeste stands alone,’ said Edward.

  ‘Yes.’ Katerina smiled and steadied herself. ‘She said she put me into the room next to yours so that you could look after me and care for me.’

  ‘In between my coughing and wheezing?’

  ‘Edward, your pain is my pain. Do you see, you’ve made me so alive. Edward, I—’ Katerina rose to her feet, escaping his eyes. She moved to the fireplace, hiding the flush on her face as she looked down at the laid grate. She was full of the uncertainties of a woman who had never known a lover. There had been many years of trial, many dangerous moments and many different kinds of people. The good and the brave, the weak and the treacherous, the loyal and the helpful, and the cold and the merciless. There had been many men among these. She had been grateful to some, contemptuous of some and defiant of others. But there had been no man she loved, until now. She was not a shy person, not by any means, but nor was she a sophisticate, neither by upbringing nor inclination. What she had to face up to now, by reason of Edward’s self-deprecation, touched every sensitive nerve. ‘Edward,’ she said, ‘this is so difficult for me. You must help me.’

  ‘Without Dr Kandor, I know you feel—’

  ‘No, it isn’t that,’ she said. ‘It’s us, Edward, you and I.’

  ‘The problem is between us? Katerina, have I said wrong things?’

  ‘You’ve said nothing. Except that you think me beautiful. That is the problem, that you’ve said nothing.’

  ‘But we’ve had so many conversations,’ said Edward, all too aware that he was dangerously close to taking a heady leap into the unknown. It was the unknown, Katerina Pyotrovna in his arms.

  ‘Yes, we’ve talked,’ she said. She turned as he approached her. Her eyes reflected the lamplight. The night colour flickered between her unsteady lashes. Her blood suffused her. Love was very painful, very sensitive. ‘Edward, it isn’t enough.’

  ‘Am I very lacking, Katerina?’

  ‘Oh, no! How can you say that?’ She was a figure of light and shadows, a
n incredible dream to him. Her hands were at her throat, as if her voice hurt her. ‘Oh, I had no idea it would be so difficult. Hundreds of times I’ve had Papa’s handsomest young officers declare they loved me, and there was nothing difficult in telling them I adored them all. It isn’t like that now.’

  ‘Your father’s officers, Katerina?’

  She shook her head a little wildly.

  ‘No – no – I mean – oh, there were the officers Papa had command of in those days. Edward, please don’t confuse the issue, and please don’t avoid it.’

  ‘Katerina,’ he said, ‘is it necessary for me to say I love you?’

  ‘It’s desperately necessary for you to love me very much and to say so.’ She clasped her unsteady hands. ‘Please, will you say it and make me stop wishing for the floor to open up?’

  ‘Is that all? That you wish to know if I love you? What else can I say except that I simply love you? Do you think it’s possible not to love you? You’re the most enchanting woman on earth.’ Edward smiled into her suffused eyes. ‘Without any reservations at all, I adore you. We met only two weeks ago? That’s not possible, either. I feel I’ve known you all my life – you’re all my years, all my days. Katerina, you’re the loveliest of women.’

  ‘Edward?’ Katerina, visibly trembling, drew a long breath. ‘Oh, how precious that is to me. I’ve been looking at you and loving you, and Boris Sergeyovich knew it. Love is a gift of pain and sweetness and magic, and even more than that when it’s returned. I’ve never been seriously in love before, but now, do you see, I’ve fallen desperately in love in the shortest space of time, a single day. I’ll show you.’

  She did then what she had wanted to do for many days. She kissed him, on the mouth, and her lips were warm, giving and confessional, telling him in their lingering pressure how much she needed him, how much he filled the life that had been so lonely for her. His declaration of love had been made, and so, because she was what she was, emotionally demonstrative, her response was frank and unashamed. She wound her arms around him, and her warm body pressed very close, communicating its eager life and vitality to his. His blood coursed as he felt the incredible wonder of vigour reborn.