To Dream of Snow (20 page)

‘That's splendid!'

‘As for Violette, she has been going through escorts like a hot knife through butter.' She gave a snort of disapproval. ‘She has a lieutenant now, a shifty-looking fellow in my opinion, but she seems very taken with him as she is with all her men at first. Rose and Isabelle are with the Pomfret girls for most of their free time, although I've noticed that Isabelle sometimes stays away as if she has had enough for a while of their endless chatter of young men and hair styles and clothes and fripperies.' She sighed, wearied herself by her chatterbox daughter on occasions. ‘But then Isabelle has always had a quieter nature than my Rose, who is still as giddy as a headless chicken. I would knock some sense into her if it could be done that way.'

‘She's a very pretty girl.'

‘Too pretty for her own good. Mr and Mrs Pomfret are so hospitable and Sophie and I have been to their house for tea.' She grimaced. ‘I think they wanted to see Rose's mother and aunt for themselves. We must have won their approval or else we wouldn't have been invited a second time and yet again last week. There's always plenty of young company under their roof, where, I'm thankful to say, Mrs Pomfret ensures that the young women are strictly chaperoned.'

‘Maybe Rose and Isabelle will end up with English husbands.'

‘Perhaps they will. There are more young Englishmen working and training with businesses in St Petersburg than I had ever realized.'

‘What of you, Jeanne?'

Jeanne chortled. ‘No romance for me! That's all in the past as far as I'm concerned. But Jan van Deventer has been asking after you.'

‘Oh?' In the wake of the emotional turmoil she had been through with Tom she felt barely able to tolerate his forceful presence. ‘How is he?' she added automatically.

‘As handsome as ever. He came by ship with a load of paintings, which he displayed at the Dutch Embassy, and sold every one. He must be making a mint of money! He's awaiting another shipment any day now, which is why he has to stay in the city until it arrives.'

‘You told him I was here, did you?'

‘Yes. When I happened to meet him on the bridge one day.' Jeanne was watching her closely, curious to see if Marguerite showed disappointment that he had not yet come to see her, but there was no sign of it. It was, she thought, as if Marguerite were numb to any feeling at the present time. It worried her. What had happened during this time at this oddly named palace?

‘So you didn't see any of his paintings?' Marguerite's tone was flat.

‘No.' Jeanne paused. ‘Are you well? Is everything all right?'

Marguerite raised her eyebrows in surprise and forced a little laugh. ‘Yes, of course! And everything will be even better when I've seen the cape that you've brought.'

The box was opened. Jeanne folded back the layers of white muslin and Marguerite lifted out the cape. All the lovely flowers, which she had collected through the conflicting emotions of pleasure and distress, covered the cream silk in their wonderful colours. Waist-length and collarless, it was a work of art in itself. She slipped it around her shoulders and looked at her reflection in a mirror.

‘It is superb,' she said quietly. ‘You and Sophie and Violette have created a masterpiece. The Grand Duchess will love it.'

Jeanne beamed. ‘We hoped you'd be pleased.' She turned to open the second box containing the shoes and held them up. The tiny flowers even covered the heels. ‘The imperial shoemaker did his work well!'

Jeanne stayed overnight and as soon as she had left again next morning Marguerite took the cape to Catherine. As expected, she was delighted with it, putting it on at once and slipping her small feet into the shoes.

‘Oh, how beautiful!' She turned and twirled before a tall pier glass, spinning the embroidery into rainbows of colour as she tried to catch a glimpse of it from every angle. ‘I'd like a gown to incorporate these flowers over the skirt! Yes! That's what I want!'

‘May I return to St Petersburg to organize that project?'

Catherine hesitated only briefly. ‘Yes, mam'selle. You have done well and may leave tomorrow if you wish.'

Marguerite was relieved that she could get back to her companions. Although she trusted Jeanne's skills and management, she did not really care to be forever at Catherine's beck and call. Two nights ago when she had been unable to sleep, a new design for a gown for the Empress had come into her head, and she had gone from her bed to sketch it out. She believed that when made it should be just as spectacular as the peacock one.

That evening Catherine danced non-stop in her new shoes. Then in the morning a blow fell for her as well as for Peter in a command from the Empress for the grand ducal court to move to the country palace at Peterhof. She needed to have them nearer whenever important matters had to be discussed. The Grand Duke roared and stamped in temper like an ill-tempered child when informed, but he had to obey the woman he loathed. In private Catherine was in despair. She was being torn away from the freedom of Oranienbaum to be under Elisabeth's ruthless domination again.

Yet she could guess the reason. Although in the main Elisabeth lazily left the governing of the country to her ministers, there were always some matters that needed attention and that she chose to pass on to Peter. Couriers came almost every day with letters and documents for him, all of which he ignored, never breaking the seals. It was most surely her exasperation with him at failing to carry out his duties yet again that had resulted in this curtailment of liberty.

Marguerite had to wait several days until there was a courier carriage going back to St Petersburg. During this time she designed the new gown and gained Catherine's approval of it. Then at last there was a carriage transporting on its roof a large box of the Grand Duke's model soldiers that were going back to the Winter Palace in readiness for his return. She could travel with it.

She was in the courtyard, watching her baggage being fastened on to the roof beside the box, when she saw Konstantin Dashiski coming towards her.

‘May I accompany you?' he asked, smiling widely at her.

She was laughing in surprise. ‘But where are you going?'

‘The same as you! Returning to the city!'

‘In a courier's carriage, Captain Dashiski? I think there's another, grander equipage waiting for you somewhere else.'

‘One set of wheels is as good as another. Do you object to my company?' He was teasing her.

‘No, Captain.' She shook her head, her eyes merry, suddenly extremely glad of his light-hearted presence. He would distract her with his company from thinking about all that had happened since her arrival at Oranienbaum and already he had taken away any sad thoughts she might have had at this time of leaving about Tom and what might have been.

‘Not a captain any longer,' he was saying. ‘The Empress has chosen to promote me. I'm a major now, but to you I'm Konstantin.'

‘Congratulations, Konstantin.'

He bowed his head in pleased acknowledgement. ‘I thank you, Mam'selle Marguerite. I hope that sometime in the future you'll let me make amends for being unable to take you dancing that evening a while ago. I came from the Empress at Peterhof to bring her command to the grand ducal court, which is why I'm here at Oranienbaum again. But Her Imperial Highness told me you had already left here for St Petersburg some days ago, which is why I didn't start looking for you.'

‘She did not know, but I've been waiting for a carriage. But why are you returning to the city when you have the chance to remain in the country? I've heard that mosquitoes are a plague there now. There have been some at Oranienbaum, but usually there was a sea breeze where I was working on the plateau there that kept them at bay.'

‘Back to Peterhof, you mean? No, I'm going to have what's left of the summer at my own estate.' He had fully intended to go straight to his country house after leaving Oranienbaum, but he had sighted her and her luggage from a window and decided it would be a deal more enjoyable travelling in her company than being on his own. It was also no great diversion to go via St Petersburg instead, and if he had not known that his mistress was waiting for him in the country he would have stayed on in the city to see more of this intriguing Frenchwoman.

‘I'll only be in St Petersburg overnight before escaping from the mosquitoes,' he said when they had settled in the carriage. ‘Dine with me!'

She shook her head, smiling. ‘Impossible! I've far too much to do when I arrive.'

He grimaced comically in disappointment, causing her to laugh again. ‘Another time perhaps?' he said.

‘Perhaps.'

A footman, having seen that Major Dashiski was not going to travel in the equipage waiting for him after all, came at a run to transfer a basket of refreshment, for the courier carriage was already moving. Turning the handle, he threw the basket in before slamming the door again. Breathless, he watched it speed away.

Konstantin pulled the basket into a more secure position. ‘At least you can share a picnic lunch with me. Now you said something about working on the plateau at Oranienbaum. What were you doing there?'

She told him about the task she had been given and how she had enjoyed it, but all the time she was relating it her thoughts were uncomfortably haunted by Tom, and she changed the subject as soon as was possible.

As the journey continued Konstantin opened his basket of food to share with her. It had been intended solely for him, but there was plenty for both of them. He unfolded the single napkin on to her lap. Then he poured her wine into the glass while he drank his out of the only other container available, which was the top of his own silver vodka flask that he took from his coat pocket. It was an enjoyable carriage picnic.

At a fork in the road near St Petersburg when the journey was almost over Marguerite failed to notice another carriage passing in the opposite direction on its way to Peterhof. Its solitary passenger, who was reading with his long legs stretched out in front of him, also failed to glimpse her in the matter of seconds when their windows were level.

Yet he stirred and put aside his book. Snapping open his fob watch, Jan took note of the time. Not much longer now. On the opposite seat he had some rolled-up paintings in secure coverings. He would give first choice to the Grand Duchess before showing the rest to the Empress. These had all arrived by the second shipment, which had been delayed, and caused him to wait impatiently for it.

He had expected to spend that time with Marguerite, but had learnt from Jeanne that she was at Oranienbaum. Then yesterday Jeanne had informed him that the Grand Duke and Duchess had moved to Peterhof, which meant that Marguerite, since she was in attendance on the Grand Duchess at the present time, would be there too. This news had coincided with the arrival of the second collection of paintings. During the winter and between business commitments in Amsterdam, he had completed a number of other paintings himself, some of which he also had with him as well as earlier work that previously he had not offered for sale.

Although he had always had sketching materials with him on his journeys, this time he had also shipped, in a stout wooden box, plenty of powdered colours, oils and brushes as well as his palette. Having started to paint again during the winter he had found that he had taken to the easel again. Just as Dutch painters before him had given their works hidden meanings, he had done the same with his painting for Marguerite, creating a little mystery within it that she must solve for herself.

His thoughts went back to the night in Riga when he had turned to see her for the first time, her beautiful face aglow with pleasure at the good news she had to tell, her eyes sparkling and the candlelight turning her hair red-gold. She was entirely unaware how she had taken his breath away. He had not known then that Hendrick was acquainted with her until later in the evening, but she had lingered in his mind throughout their business talk over the meal that had been served to them.

‘That girl,' he had said at last, idly twisting the stem of his wine glass with his fingers, ‘the one I was talking to when you sighted me. She was French. You've no idea who she is, have you?'

‘I didn't notice her.'

‘A beauty in her own way. She mistook me for someone else.'

‘That could be the Frenchwoman Marguerite Laurent.' Hendrick told him why she and her companions had come to Russia and of the care she had taken of Sarah Warrington on the journey. ‘She probably thought you were the Englishwoman's husband.' He began looking around for a waiting-maid. ‘Now let's have another bottle of wine.'

Jan looked unseeingly out of the carriage window at the passing landscape, which was as flat as the eye could see. That night in Riga had fixed Marguerite in his memory. He had also learned where to find her again. Never before had a woman lingered on in his thoughts as she had done.

I
n the sewing room Marguerite was greeted warmly by her fellow Frenchwomen. Isabelle was particularly glad to see her and eager to show her latest work, which Marguerite studied and praised. Isabelle had all the signs of becoming her best seamstress and embroiderer and was almost certain to rival Jeanne before long.

‘You're doing wonderfully well, Isabelle. I'm very glad to have you in my work team and I've a special task in mind for you.'

The girl glowed with pleasure. Jeanne always checked her work, but never with any encouraging word.

Marguerite sought out the trimmings she had brought from France. There she found the opaque, opal-hued sequins that she wanted. They were of no intrinsic value, having been bought cheaply on a Parisian market stall, but she intended they should be used to enhance the truly spectacular gown she had designed at Oranienbaum for the most powerful woman in the land.

‘There's a letter from Paris waiting here for you,' Violette said, fetching it for her. ‘We've recognized the writing.'