Russian series 03 - The Eagle's Fate (13 page)

Tatya had rather expected that Petersburg would be quieter than usual and the social activities much curtailed, but it soon became clear that she was wrong. The regimental galas which normally opened the Season in November were all cancelled, of course, as nearly all the officers were away with the Army. The Emperor was suffering from an attack of erysipelas and was rarely seen about the city, his brother Constantin was with the Army, and the other two Grand Dukes were too young to go into Society, but the Empress and the Empress Dowager continued to hold receptions and drawing-rooms, and to attend the theatre from time to time. Otherwise, everything was going on as normal, with a continual round of balls, soirees, receptions, dinner-and card-parties, and, as the winter closed in, skating-and sledging-parties.

The only noticeable difference made by the war was the absence of the military presence which in normal times added so much colour to the various assemblies. This was reduced to a sprinkling of officers detained in the capital by their special duties, and all fretting and string-pulling to rejoin their regiments as soon as possible, and some others who had been wounded, but were now sufficiently recovered to go about, but were also impatient to get back into action before it was all over.

The war had affected conversation, too. Amid the usual barrage of gossip, there was a great deal of talk about military strategy—most of it wildly inaccurate—and much canvassing of support by the various political factions in favour of the Grand Duke Constantin, the Empress-Dowager, the different ministers, and the mutually hostile groups within the echelons of generals actually fighting the war. The only thing they all seemed to agree on was their dislike of Marshal Kutuzov, which Nadya considered most peculiar.

Every scrap of news about the progress of the war was seized upon and minutely dissected, but without anyone seeming to grasp what it really meant. This caused Tatya and Nadya to exchange some despairing glances, and Irina, who had a very modest opinion of her own intelligence, to look puzzled and wonder if all these brilliant people could really be as stupid as they sounded.

A major part of the conversation at the earlier events of the Season was taken up by those people who had been in Moscow or on their estates near the line of the French advance during the summer. They were all dying to recount their experiences and tell their tales of hardship and danger, but these mostly amounted to little more than complaints about lost jewel-cases, overturned waggons, rude postmasters, uncomfortable lodgings and beds without sheets. lrina and Nadya often looked at one another somewhat inscrutably as they listened, and resolutely kept silent about their own highly unconventional and shocking adventures.

Irina’s initial timidity decreased quite rapidly during the first few weeks, but she remained quiet because that was her nature. Only a fraction of the young nobles of Russia were Army officers, and the remaining circle of admirers who clustered around Tatya and were known privately to Nadya and Irina as ‘Tatya’s beaux’ were quite happy to partner one or other of her friends if they couldn’t stand up with Tatya herself for every dance.

Nadya was filled with amused admiration at her friend’s skill in dealing with them all, distributing smiles and attention with easy impartiality, remembering what each had been talking about at their last encounter, careful never to offend, neglect or give cause for jealousy, so that they all formed a happy group, on good terms with one another, and more or less resigned to the knowledge that Tatya was unlikely to accept an offer from any one of them.

By early December, Irina had gained enough confidence to start to enjoy herself, and had even established the beginnings of a little circle of her own, which usually included a quietly attentive gentleman of forty or so, with a learn, sardonic face, watchful grey eyes, and graying hair. His name was Efrem Schevich, and he was not a member of the nobility, but a wealthy silk-merchant, yet, despite this, he was already accepted in Society. Nadya felt a vague dislike for him, but he seemed harmless enough, and Irina was flattered by his attention.

Nadya herself remained dependent on Tatya’s beaux. She was not surprised or particularly upset about it, for she was well aware that her appearance was far too colourless to attract attention, and, once people recollected whom she was and realised that she was virtually penniless, the anxious young gentlemen in urgent need of a rich wife, attractive or not, gave her a wide berth. Quite apart from all that, she knew she was not very lively company, for the back of her mind seemed always to be occupied with worry about her future, particularly what she should do at the end of the Season.

Her fears about her home in Moscow had been justified. Tatya’s assistant steward appeared in Petersburg only a few days after her own arrival, looking very gloomy. He was brought into the garden-room to make his report, and said that he and his companions had managed to locate the remains of the house with the greatest difficulty.

‘You can’t imagine, ladies,’ he said, both hands clutching nervously at the fur cap which he had removed from his head but refused to relinquish when he entered the house. ‘Three-quarters of the city is in ruins, and all the district round where the Princess,’ with a little bob at Nadya, ‘lived is just a mass of ash and charred timber. We found the place in the end, and there was nothing there, hardly—you’d have a job to know it’s been a house! All the wreckage’d fallen into the cellar. We climbed down and pulled the beams about, to make sure we had the right house and see if there was anything to bring away, but there was nothing but bits of half-burnt rag and broken pots and glass. The only thing worth picking up was an old iron box. The lock was broken, so we looked inside, and saw the Princess’ name on some of the papers—that’s how we knew we had the right place. We brought it away, and it’s in the hall. Shall I bring it in?’

‘Yes, please,’ Nadya managed to say.

By the time he had returned with it, she had recovered herself enough to thank him for his trouble, her lips feeling oddly stiff as she spoke, and to give him some of her little stock of coins, which he was reluctant to take until she suggested that the other men might be glad of them to buy presents for their wives and children. He accepted them then, and said shyly, ‘I know they’ll be grateful, Princess, and we’re all very sorry we couldn’t bring you better news.’ He then bowed himself out backwards in a jerky fashion, colliding with Pavel Kuzmich in the doorway.

‘Oh, Nadya! I’m sorry!’ Tatya exclaimed, her voice warm and full of genuine sympathy. Irina said nothing, but went over to give Nadya an impulsive hug and kiss.

‘It’s really no more than I expected,’ Nadya said with a sigh. ‘At least there’s something.’ She opened the box and glanced through the papers inside. They were singed along the edges and some of the seals had run a little, but otherwise they seemed intact—her father’s will, her mother’s marriage settlement, her own and Maxim’s certificates of education, the letter signed by the Emperor telling her father of Maxim’s death, and a few other things, including those stupid, worthless share certificates.

The box itself was blackened and ugly, and she had it taken up to her room, where she pushed it into a corner of a closet and tried to forget about it. There was nowhere for her to go now when she left Petersburg, and her small annuity would never stretch to furnishing even one room, or renting somewhere already furnished.

She was trying not to worry about it one evening in early December as she sat by herself on a sofa in the big salon. The room was thronged with guests, for Tatya was holding a soiree, and there would be a concert later. It was the name-day of the Emperor’s younger brother Nikolai Pavlovich, and most of the people present had attended the thanksgiving service in the St Nikolai cathedral that morning, and were agog with the news which had passed round among the congregation, that the French were out of Russia and the Emperor had left that morning for Vilna to rejoin his Army. The room was full of animated groups., most of them speculating wildly about what must have happened out in the frozen wastes far to the west, and Nadya herself had just been listening to an elderly official of the War Ministry lecturing her on the probable course of events, but he had taken leave now to return to his ministry and see if any fresh news had come in.

Nadya looked around her, trying to push her worried back into some recess of her mind where she could shut the door on them for a while. The room was certainly a fine sight. It was a double cube, its fine proportions embellished by a simple key-fret cornice, and paired pilasters with Ionic capitals dividing the shorter walls. The stoves, one in each corner, were disguised as something resembling Green temples, if one used one’s imagination, and gleamed white against the plain walls, which were painted in a very pale, warm shade of terracotta.

The usual little gilt chairs and sofas were set about in conversation groups, and were occupied by elegant ladies dressed in the height of current fashion, which happened to be sufficiently Grecian to accord well with the room, and their light gowns in beautiful fabrics were complimented by the sober, dark shades of the court dress of the gentlemen, with the occasional highlight of a military uniform. Tatya was still standing near the double doors, talking to someone, but all the expected guests seemed to have arrived by now, and no one had entered for quite ten minutes.

Even as Nadya thought this, another guest appeared in the doorway, and stood looking about the room as if he was reluctant to enter. He was an eye-catching figure in the scarlet and blue of the Life Guard Hussars, the massy frogging of his dolman and swinging pelisse gleaming silver in the candlelight. It was Andrei Valyev.

Chapter Six

Nadya, who had excellent sight, could see, even across the width of the room, that he was pale and seemed thinner in the face, in the body, too, for his dolman was loose instead of skin-tight, as it should have been. Andrei seemed to her to reveal an unexpected diffidence as he moved towards Tatya and stood waiting for her to catch sight of him, instead of claiming her attention as Nadya was sure he would normally have done. His hands were held awkwardly in front of him, elbows half-bent, instead of hanging naturally at his sides, and Nadya could see that they were swathed in bandages.

Tatya turned her head at that moment and saw him. She went to him at once, hands outstretched in greeting, but he made no move to take them, only gestured very slightly with his right hand and bowed. Tatya smoothly adjusted her own movement to put her hands on his shoulders and stretched up to kiss his cheek, an unusually affectionate and informal gesture in their present surroundings, which the gossips were sure to have noted. Nadya realised why a few moments later, when another late arrival claimed Tatya’s attention, and Andrei moved further into the room. There was an ugly, puckered scar on his left cheek, and it was this which Tatya had kissed, perhaps guessing that he was self-conscious about it. Perhaps that was why he seemed so diffident.

As Nadya watched, he walked slowly across the room, bowing to acquaintances and exchanging a few words here and there. Eventually he arrived a few feet away from her, then stood looking her straight in the face for a moment. She smiles a little uncertainly, and he covered the last short distance between them in a couple of steps, bowed slightly, and formally requested permission to sit beside her.