Katerina's Secret (26 page)

The bed was in upheaval. A body was striving and struggling. A dark, bending form and the glimmer of a white, smothering pillow rushed at Celeste's eyes. The assailant was breathing hard, bearing down and down, but beneath the pillow and the bedclothes Katerina was fighting for her life, because life meant so much to her now. She was neither weak nor swooning. She was strong and frenzied, her smothered mouth open, her teeth tearing at the suffocating pillow, her hands wrenching at the jersey-sleeved arms that were like steel rods in their rigid pressure.

Celeste screamed and hurled herself. The figure came upright and turned. A clenched fist struck Celeste on the temple, knocking her sideways. Celeste pitched to the floor. She screamed again, she came up on her feet like a furious cat, ready to claw and rend. She saw
the dark figure vanishing, not through the door but the open French windows.

The bedroom light went on.

‘Celeste!'

It was Edward, in his pyjamas, his face drawn and shocked. Celeste flung herself into his arms.

‘Edward – Madame – someone was trying to smother her – '

They turned to the bed. Katerina lay trembling, drawing painful breaths, her auburn hair riotous and disordered.

‘Katerina – oh, my God,' said Edward, and sat down on the edge of the bed, taking hold of her hands.

‘Madame – oh, blessed joy,' breathed Celeste, ‘he's gone – you're alive.'

‘Celeste,' gasped Katerina, ‘oh, my brave and lovely one.'

‘My God,' said Edward again, ‘what sort of care is this I've taken of you?' He should have guessed Valery would have an accomplice. It was always work for two, this kind of work, the elimination of people.

Katerina smiled. There were two people she loved. They were both here, both close. Relief that was blissful flooded her.

‘Celeste came,' she said, ‘my sweet Celeste,
my brave one. Celeste?' She released her hands from Edward's and put out her arms. Celeste bent and Katerina embraced her and kissed her.

The hotel was alive with the sounds of disturbed guests. Madame Michel arrived in a woollen dressing gown. Edward crossed to the door and closed it. Celeste, bruised but as intoxicated with relief as Katerina, explained to her mother. A long sigh escaped Madame Michel.

‘This too?' she said. ‘We are pursued by the devils of darkness. Holy Mary, deliver us.' She crossed herself, regarding Katerina sadly and in shame. ‘Countess, what is to be done with such an hotel as this?'

‘Treasure it, madame,' said Katerina, ‘for it holds my friends, and no harm has been done.'

‘Cognac,' said Madame Michel. ‘Harm or not, cognac for you. Yes?'

‘And a little for Celeste,' said Edward, bitter with himself for taking Katerina's safety for granted.

‘Mama, I will get it,' said Celeste, ‘while you talk to the guests.'

‘A burglar,' said Edward, ‘may I suggest that, Madame Michel, an interrupted burglar?'

‘Yes, I will talk to them,' said Madame
Michel, and she and Celeste left him alone with Katerina.

Edward went to the still open French windows and closed them. He sat down beside Katerina, who lay quite calmly, her hair a spilling mass of dark auburn, her eyes full of shadows. She reached for his hand, her fingers closing tightly around his.

‘What a self-satisfied idiot I was,' he said.

‘A kiss, please?' said Katerina.

He kissed her, and she felt the warmth and the ardour of his lips, the kiss intense because of his relief that she had survived.

‘Thank God for Celeste,' he said. ‘I should have guessed, I should have known, there had to be two of them.'

‘Celeste has been brave,' said Katerina, ‘and God has been good. Do you see, Edward, we've been given life as well as love. Life together. I was determined not to die. I thought of you. I prayed. Celeste answered my prayers. You aren't to blame, my darling. How could anyone have known?'

He regarded her in new wonder. She had just escaped a torturing death. But her eyes were full of light now, her smile a caress. From where did she get her beauty and her courage? From whom did she get them?

‘I wonder at you,' he said, ‘I wonder why, when there must be thousands of better men, you're so set on me.'

‘Oh, I'm very set on you,' she said, ‘you will never escape me, never. Edward, you must not put yourself down so much. You are the kindest of men, you are like Papa—' She stopped. She went on. ‘I want you. I want you to love me. Will you marry me very quickly, please?'

‘I shall love you,' he said, ‘I shall marry you.'

Celeste came in with cognac for both of them. She sat on the bed and watched them sip it. She smiled. Her enchanting Madame was warm with colour. They had been kissing. Celeste was sure of it.

‘Shall I tell her?' said Edward.

‘No, I will,' smiled Katerina. ‘Celeste, Edward is going to marry me. He has taken his courage into both hands—'

‘Oh, how wonderful!' Celeste flowered into bright joy for them. ‘I'm so happy for you, for both of you – there, I knew it, didn't I? I knew you only had to meet, to see each other – oh, blessed Saint Mary, as Mama would say, I'm enchanted and overcome.'

‘I share that feeling,' said Edward. Celeste kissed him demonstratively. ‘Celeste, you are
truly your mama's angel. Were both the hotel doors bolted tonight?'

‘Oh, yes,' said Celeste. ‘You insisted, and Mama has been very careful about that.'

‘The French windows can't be opened from the outside,' said Edward.

Celeste stared. Katerina watched Edward out of eyes that were always drawn to him.

‘M'sieur,' breathed Celeste, ‘Madame's door – it was open when I came – it was open.'

‘And so, having been caught, my little chicken, and the hotel aroused, he escaped by the windows. Celeste, did all the guests show themselves?'

‘I'm not sure,' said Celeste.

‘Then, with you and your mama, we'll check the bedrooms.'

‘Oh,' gasped Celeste, ‘you're pointing a dreadful finger, Edward – you're saying one of the guests will be missing.'

‘Yes, Celeste. Shall we check?'

‘Edward,' said Katerina, ‘look for a woman.'

‘Madame?' gasped Celeste.

‘Her scent is still here,' said Katerina.

Madame Michel agreed to make the check. It meant disturbing some of the guests again.

One was missing.

The room of Mademoiselle Dupont was empty.

Edward, remembering the peculiar relationship affected by Valery and the Frenchwoman, thought with hindsight that this had been the clumsiest way of covering their partnership. That they were French-speaking Bolshevik agents he had no doubt. Some Russians spoke French better than they spoke Russian.

He asked Madame Michel to say nothing. He and the countess would, with regret, leave after the inquest on Dr Kandor. It was essential, and he begged Madame Michel to ask for no explanations.

‘M'sieur,' said Madame Michel, ‘we've known you many years. It has been more than a pleasure. You have helped Celeste to become what she is by all the time you've spared for her, and all the kindnesses you've shown her. I am proud of my daughter, and I honour you, m'sieur. I will ask nothing of you except that you regard us always as your friends. The inspector is coming here tomorrow afternoon, to talk to everyone who had some small acquaintance of Monsieur Valery, There's no reason why you need to be here, or the countess, for neither of you had anything to do with him at all.'

‘It occurs to me,' said Edward, sitting with
her in her little room, ‘that the inspector will concern himself primarily with the sudden disappearance of Mademoiselle Dupont, about whom the less said the better as far as I'm concerned.'

‘But she should be guillotined, m'sieur, for what she tried to do.'

‘Well, it was a woman according to the countess. A woman is absent, one Mademoiselle Dupont. That's all we know for certain. Let the inspector put his own interpretation on her absence.'

Madame Michel managed a faint smile. That was almost piquant, she thought. More than one guest would be able to inform the police that Monsieur Valery had cast eager eyes at Mademoiselle Dupont, and that she had responded with quite contemptuous in-difference. Her unexplained departure would most certainly make Inspector Cartier concentrate on her, not for her attempt on the countess's life, of which he would be told nothing, but in connection with Monsieur Valery's death. Yes, it was piquant, almost.

‘No guests, m'sieur, are aware of what happened in the countess's room.'

‘Thank you, dear madame,' said Edward. ‘I really think she should be spared questions
when she's already answered more than enough about Dr Kandor. I'll take her for an afternoon drive, to Nice, I think, where perhaps we can apply for a special marriage licence.'

‘Marriage licence?' Madame Michel's eyes opened wide.

‘You see in me,' smiled Edward, ‘the most fortunate of men.'

‘Is that true, m'sieur?' said the astonished Madame Michel.

‘Quite true,' he said, and stood up to receive her felicitations. She embraced him with romantic fervour.

‘I'm happy for you, most happy,' she said, and kissed him on both cheeks. ‘So, a little afternoon excursion in search of a marriage licence. Entirely irresistible, m'sieur. Please, now, return to your bed. The countess has had a shock, but has borne it bravely. Mademoiselle Dupont, whoever she is, has gone. Nothing will be said by Celeste or me concerning her actions. We all have our secrets. Celeste is going to sleep in the countess's room. So go to your bed in peace, m'sieur.'

Edward took breakfast early. Even so, Colonel Brecht and Rosamund were in advance of him. No mention was made of Mademoiselle
Dupont. Everyone was in blissful ignorance of her flight. Colonel Brecht, finishing his coffee, approached Rosamund with a diffident smile.

‘In thirty minutes, Rosamund?' he said.

‘For our walk?' she said.

‘I shall look forward to it,' said the colonel, and with a smile at Edward left the dining room. He paused in the lobby to look around.

Rosamund took up her coffee and sat down at Edward's table.

‘There's a mystery, Edward.'

‘Oh, there are always mysteries, Rosamund.'

‘Do whisper a few words at least?' she suggested.

‘Well, the burglar must have decided there were pickings to be had at the Corniche. Fortunately, Celeste was awake, and that disposed very quickly of the intruder. Not much of a mystery, I'm afraid.'

‘A burglar?' said Rosamund. ‘Dear me. Two suicides and a burglar? We are living, aren't we? La Roche is suddenly the centre of drama. Edward, my dear man, I'm not a simpleton, you know.'

‘Well, since you're not,' said Edward, ‘the reason why the countess and I have decided to leave next week—'

‘You're leaving?'

‘Yes,' he said. ‘Her villa has been sold. We're getting married.'

‘Heavens above,' said Rosamund.

‘It's a shock?' said Edward.

‘A shock? No, a lovely surprise. Edward, really, how pleased I am for you. Be very happy, my dear. But such deep waters – how intriguing.'

‘And you and Franz?' said Edward.

‘Good heavens, no, nothing so romantic,' smiled Rosamund. ‘We're friends, that's all. I could never make a husband of him. He's far too set in his ways. Underneath that Prussian exterior, he's not without charm, but a husband? No, I think not. I'll probably marry my gardener. That will be the only real way of making my garden as much my own as his. Tell me more about your intriguing countess, whom you've never introduced to me.'

Edward talked guardedly to her over the breakfast coffee.

Katerina said coldly, ‘You're mistaken, quite mistaken, Colonel Brecht – if that's who you really are.'

‘Your Highness,' said Colonel Brecht, no longer a stiff and awkward man, but smooth and self-confident, ‘it's taken me a
considerable time to convince myself. I am, however, now fully convinced.'

‘Then you're deluding yourself. I am not Your Highness.' Katerina stood tall and straight-backed. ‘Please leave.'

‘A rumour reached us,' said the colonel, ‘and the Emperor—'

‘He's no longer the Emperor.'

‘He commissioned me to investigate. It hasn't been easy. I'm His Imperial Majesty's aide-de-camp, not a spy. I caught sight of you on one day only. Your protector appeared with a rifle, and I've never seen a man more determined. Fortunately, I managed to conceal myself, and it was the wandering gardener of this hotel who was unlucky enough to have a shot fired at him. I'd glimpsed you. Subsequently, still concealed, I watched your unexpected meeting with Edward Somers, though I wasn't close enough to be positive about you. But since then enough has happened to tell me the Bolsheviks had also heard that rumour. They want you, dead or alive, Your Highness.'

‘You're making a mistake,' said Katerina. The confrontation, taking place in her room, and in German, was cold on the one hand, quietly determined on the other. ‘I am a Bulgarian exile.'

‘Seeing you now,' said the colonel, ‘I'm sure I'm making no mistake. I'm here to offer you the protection of the Kaiser Wilhelm, to escort you to Holland—'

‘Stop!' Katerina's eyes flashed. ‘Never. Never. Do you dare to come here and offer me the protection of a man responsible for sending Lenin to Russia, responsible by that act for the desolation of Russia and the destruction of so many kings and emperors? And what protection do I need? I am Katerina Pyotrovna, Countess of Varna. That is all I am.'

‘I beg you to listen,' said the colonel, more convinced than ever. ‘In no circumstances will anything but complete secrecy and security be maintained. I swear to you that the Emperor was not himself responsible for putting Lenin on that train, that he did all he could to intercede when your family was in captivity.'