To Dream of Snow (34 page)

‘Beloved Catherine, I'll never let him harm you in any way,' Gregory vowed, holding her close. ‘I'd defend you with my life if need be!'

He took very seriously the threat she had received, for the Grand Duke would be capable of anything once he had all the power of a tsar. Personally, he despised Peter as did his brothers and other officers, all of whom considered the heir to the throne to be a traitor to Russia with his adulation of Frederick II. Most believed Peter to be weak-minded with his eccentric behaviour, wild laughter and weird capers, often at the most solemn of occasions.

Catherine, with her compassion for others, went to call on Marguerite in her widowhood, even though she had been at the funeral and expressed her condolences that day. She knew that Konstantin had long been one of Elisabeth's favourite lovers, as did everyone else at court, but she, ever alert and observant, had seen how often Konstantin had looked in Marguerite's direction with something deeper than affection in his gaze.

When Catherine was shown through to where Marguerite received her, she was surprised to see on the way that dustsheets covered much of the furniture in the hall and some paintings had been removed from the walls. Through an open door she saw that the library furnishings were similarly covered and some of the shelves had been emptied of books. She was shown into the Yellow Salon, where Marguerite, dressed in black, came forward to greet her. This room was still in order and immediately Catherine asked the reason for the dustsheets elsewhere.

‘I'm leaving here,' Marguerite replied. ‘I'm only taking pictures and books as well as a few other items that I purchased for myself. This house belongs to the Empress.'

‘Has she told you to move out?'

‘No, but she purchased this house for Konstantin and told me at his sickbed that it was not mine in any way. So now he has gone I have no place in it. I have rented the apartment that the Dutch painter Jan van Deventer once occupied. If I could have severed all links with the Empress I would have done it, but I'm still forced to the task of designing for her.'

Her words confirmed for her listener that she had known of her late husband's infidelity.

‘If only you could have still designed for me!' Catherine exclaimed fervently.

‘If only,' Marguerite repeated with a rueful smile.

‘But one day you shall design for me again!'

Marguerite appreciated the kindly vow, but as the omnipotent Elisabeth was still only in her late forties it could be a long time to wait. She hoped to be back in France long before Peter gained the throne.

Two days later Marguerite moved into the Dutch apartment and, because of the many times she had been there before, it felt like a homecoming. Although everything that had belonged to Jan had gone, the tall blue-and-white-tiled stove was still a fixture to warm her when winter came again. The furniture she had bought was already in place, made ready by a young Dutchwoman named Marinka. The girl had been recommended by Saskia, who was now housekeeper at Jan's present apartment and his caretaker again in his absence.

As she had expected, Jan came to see her as soon as he landed back in St Petersburg, seeming to fill the small apartment again with his presence. He looked strong and in good health, his well-brushed dark hair tied back with a ribbon bow. There was a prosperous air to him too in a well-tailored grey-cloth coat and knee breeches, his cravat white and crisp with a narrow edging of Dutch lace, his shirt cuffs similarly trimmed. He had heard from Saskia that she had been widowed, and he strode restlessly about the salon, looking at everything and noting without comment the painting he had given her on the wall.

‘What are you doing here?' he demanded. ‘Why aren't you still living in your fine mansion? Or at Dashiski Palace?'

She thought he seemed almost angry with her and could not understand why. She gave him a brief explanation and received a sharp look from him.

‘So you're coming to your senses after all. That debauched court was no place for you,' he stated. ‘Why don't you go home to France?'

‘I can't at present. All the time I'm of use to the Empress with my designs I'm trapped here. It would go against my whole nature to deliver inferior work and in any case she would see through my ploy and find some devious way to punish me. Remember that I'm a Russian citizen through my marriage and subject to her whims and her ruthlessness. But that doesn't mean I don't intend to break those chains when the time is right.'

‘How?'

‘I don't know yet. I have to be careful and carry on as usual until she feels confident that I've no thought in my head of leaving Russia. Once, after I was married to Konstantin and spoke of returning to France, he warned me that the Empress's spies would make sure I didn't get a passage on any ship to my homeland and that I would be followed and brought back if I went by road. Perhaps, now that I've moved here, I'm already being watched. In any case, if I wished to get a passage home, whatever the conditions on board, no French vessel has come in yet this year.' She shrugged. ‘Maybe the British Navy is blocking French ports. At least this conflict can't last for ever.'

‘It shows no sign of it abating yet, although for Russia everything seems to be going well and great gains have been made. But Frederick II isn't beaten yet.'

She became exasperated with his pacing about. ‘Do sit down and have a glass of wine with me. You're like a prowling tiger.'

He flung himself down in a chair and watched her as she poured the wine. As she handed him his glass he caught her wrist, looking up into her face. ‘Marry me, Marguerite! That will make a Dutchwoman of you and, as the Netherlands aren't at war with anyone, you'd be free to return to your homeland.'

For a long moment they looked into each other's eyes. ‘Take your wine,' she said calmly, ‘and don't make wild suggestions. I'll do it my own way.'

He took the wine, gulped a mouthful, and as she sat down opposite him he regarded her cynically. ‘Are you still mooning over that Englishman?'

She flushed angrily. ‘Although we've known each other a long time you have no right to cross-question me in this way!'

‘Answer my question anyway.'

‘If you were referring to Sarah's husband, I'm not languishing after him or anybody else.'

‘Come now. There is still someone making a barrier between us and I know you never loved your husband.'

A gasp escaped her at his outspokenness. ‘I was fond of him when we married!'

‘But he wore out your affection with his promiscuous ways. Am I right?'

She sighed heavily. ‘Everybody seemed to know of his long-standing relationship with the Empress except me.'

‘That's why I tried to stop your marriage.'

‘I realized that later. Yet in spite of everything I know that Konstantin loved me and it was no fault of his that he could not break free of her.'

‘You're very forgiving.'

She shrugged. ‘I just know that his last words to me did much to mend matters between us. I'm thankful that I can remember him for all that was good between us.'

‘I'm glad to hear it. Bitterness destroys.' He paused. ‘Let me paint your portrait, Marguerite. I've long wanted to ask you, and this seems to be the right time for it.'

She raised her eyebrows. ‘From what I have heard you have plenty of court commissions waiting for you to fulfil.'

He ignored the evasiveness in her answer. ‘I've sketched you many times, holding an image of you in my mind, but now I want to capture you in oils. Come to my studio tomorrow. You've never been there. And,' he added as an additional incentive, ‘you'll be the first to see the paintings I've shipped back with me this time.'

She had long wanted to see his studio. Although she could no longer afford to buy works of art, Konstantin having left tremendous debts that she had managed to settle, it would give her enormous pleasure to view Jan's latest acquisitions before they went on sale or for auction in the gallery.

‘I will sit for you,' she said, ‘but you need time to settle back in to your apartment again.'

‘Then come tomorrow afternoon and we'll discuss the portrait,' he said, putting aside his emptied glass and rising to his feet. ‘There's no point in delaying a start.'

She rose too. ‘You're forgetting something. In this case, time has to be paid for in one way or another.'

He glowered. ‘You must be out of your mind if you think I'd charge you! In any case I intend to keep the portrait for myself.'

‘So I guessed,' she replied, amused by his fierce indignation. ‘But in exchange I want a self-portrait of you.'

He realized she had been making gentle fun of him and his expression cleared. ‘You shall have one,' he promised willingly, knowing immediately that he would paint the two portraits in the Dutch way of portraying a betrothal or marriage, with each individual looking towards the other.

When Marguerite arrived at his apartment he took her into the salon. As they entered he suddenly remembered that she had only been to the apartment once before. That was when she had wanted him to find Rose and he had not been alone. That affair had not lasted, nor had others since then, which was to be expected when she alone was the woman he wanted with every fibre of his being.

She was also remembering the glimpse she had had of his visitor and was careful not to sit in the same place.

‘Have you any special pose you want to hold?' he asked. ‘Is there any particular object you would like to stand on a table beside you, such as an arrangement of flowers? Some sitters like a book to indicate their intellectual interests. If you want to hold a rose or some other blossom as many women do, that can be easily done.'

‘There are no roses blooming in April!'

He looked amused. ‘That's no problem. I could paint you in a bower of roses if that was what you wished.'

She laughed. ‘Now you're making fun of me. Maybe I should have a needle and a skein of silk thread?'

He frowned seriously. ‘Not for this portrait. No, not for this one.'

‘What do you visualize for me then?'

‘Just you. A new beginning. No adornments.' His gaze fastened on her hand. ‘No wedding ring.'

She answered quietly. ‘In spite of all Konstantin's infidelities I owe him the respect he deserves for losing his life as a result of service to his country on the battlefield. I'm still in mourning for him.'

‘Then you might as well sit for your portrait in black!' he gave back sharply.

Even as she caught her breath at his unexpected flare of anger Saskia appeared with a samovar. Marguerite welcomed the interruption, thinking how often she and Jan had clashed in their long relationship. She and Saskia chatted as the porcelain cups were set out with a plate of little cakes made with fruit and nuts that Marguerite remembered were made from a Dutch recipe.

When the woman was gone again Marguerite looked over her cup at Jan. ‘We either discuss my portrait sensibly or cancel it altogether.'

He compressed his lips ruefully. ‘I apologize for my outburst. But, as I said yesterday, I want to portray you setting out on a new path, the past behind you.'

‘Then let us postpone the portrait for three months. I need that time at least to adjust to the changes in my life. By then perhaps I shall have formed a plan as to how to leave Russia.'

‘I hope that doesn't mean I'll not see you until then.'

She shook her head. ‘No, of course not.'

‘Then we'll dine together this evening.'

Her refusal was firm. ‘Not tonight You're in too uncertain a temper for me to feel relaxed in your company for a while.'

‘Then let it be in two days' time. By then all the paintings in the gallery will be properly hung and I'll be in an exuberant mood.'

She laughed. ‘Very well. Why do you still buy and sell the work of other artists when you could paint all the time here in St Petersburg?' she asked him. ‘Your portraits are always in demand and any landscapes or other scenes would be too.'

‘I admit my work here is profitable. The extra income is useful as it enables me to risk backing young artists whose work I believe will make its mark on the art world one day. Without my support they might starve and then their paintings would be lost for ever. There's a young Dutchwoman among them, whose flower paintings are exquisite.'

‘Do you have any of her work here?'

‘Yes, there's one. My assistants unpacked it today. I believe the Grand Duchess would like it and I intend to offer it to her first, which is why it will not be on public show at the opening, although you shall see it. There are also some French paintings that I bought when I was in Paris last November that you may like to see.'

‘You were in Paris!' she exclaimed. ‘How did it look? Do you think much has changed since I was there?'

He told her at length about his visit, for she asked him many more questions and it pleased him to answer them, although there was something he had been waiting the whole time to tell her.

‘I wish I had known you would be in Paris,' she said at last. ‘Before you left last autumn I could have given you a letter for my former employer, Madame Fromont, whom I've spoken about sometimes. It's such a very long time since I've heard from her and I only hope that the cause is the disruption in the post by war and not that she is ill or otherwise incapable of writing.'

‘I remembered all you had told me about her and I went to her address.'

‘You did?' she exclaimed joyfully. ‘How very kind! Was she well?'

He frowned. ‘That's another reason why I wanted you to come today. I have bad news, I'm sorry to say. She had died the previous week.' He saw immediately how much she was saddened by what he had told her, and he paused considerately before continuing what he had to say. ‘But the very pleasant woman who has been caring for her knew my name from your letters and went with me to vouch for my reliability to a lawyer. He gave me a letter for you.' He took it from his pocket and gave it to her.