The Ice King (10 page)

“Ah, just the man we want!" Countess Maria cried as the Prince was announced. "Nikolai, my dear! Are you well?" as she went to greet him.

“Well enough, thank you," the Prince replied, bending to allow her to kiss his cheek, and after he had greeted Tanya and Marisha, "Why have you suddenly discovered a need for me?”

“Your Aunt Elizaveta!" Maria replied in a significant tone.

“Oh. What has she done?" Prince Nikolai sounded decidedly apprehensive.

“Invited us to dinner next Saturday night, and to go with her to the gala at the Opera afterwards, in her box, and I cannot discover if a tiara is positively required or not."

“The Emperor intends to go, so I should think it would be expected," the Prince replied.

“Oh dear! The problem is, I have only one tiara. Tanya is welcome to it, but what shall I wear?"

“No problem." Prince Nikolai seemed to lose interest to some extent, for he half-turned away from her and absentmindedly picked up Tanya's embroidery, which was lying on the table, and looked at the design of flowers which she had pounced on it. "I've any number of the things at home, lying about gathering dust. Tanya is welcome to borrow one of them, if she wishes.”

Tanya's face, which had looked anxious, cleared, and she said, "Oh, thank you so much! You are k. . ." She stopped dead, and the Prince turned his head in her direction, formed the name "Sevastopol" soundlessly with his lips, and then suddenly smiled.

The effect was extraordinary. Tanya could hardly believe the transformation it made in him. He looked several years younger, full of life and mischief, and she stared at him wide-eyed with astonishment.

Countess Maria said, "It is very kind of you, Nikolai, but whatever will people think?" She could not see his face from where she was standing, and so missed both the smile and its sudden disappearance, which seemed to Tanya as if a shutter had suddenly closed, cutting off all the light. He replied in his usual quiet, rather bitter manner,

“I doubt if anyone will remember them. They are all family jewels, and not one has been worn these last thirty years. I didn't let Anna have them. Oh, the Volkhov emeralds are well known, I suppose, but they wouldn't do for anything less than a coronation. Come to luncheon on Wednesday and try them all on, and choose which you like best.”

Marisha, who had been standing quietly in the background all this time, made a sudden little movement, and Prince Nikolai looked at her as if he hadn't noticed her before, although he had greeted her when he came in.

“Perhaps Marisha might come too, if she wishes," he said. "I'd like her opinion on the ballroom, in any case."

“The ballroom?" Marisha enquired, mystified.

“For your ball. It's time it was used again, and I thought I'd open it up before the Season ends, and have your Come-out ball in it."

“Oh, Nikolai!" Countess Maria cried, Marisha being quite speechless with surprise and delight. "Oh, I'm so glad — that you want to open it up, I mean, but . . . but we've decided not to give Marisha's ball until
next
Season . . .”

She tailed off, obviously very conscious that the reason for putting off Marisha's ball was standing just across the room from her, looking rather embarrassed.

“Yes, I know," Prince Nikolai said calmly, "but if I mean to give a ball in any case, I might just as well give it for Marisha, and let that be my Come-out gift to her.”

Both his offers were accepted with gratitude by the ladies, and Countess Maria rang for tea. As usual, Boris arrived (with the tea-tray, as it happened, although not carrying it, of course), and no one was particularly surprised when Vladimir came in, remarking in a faintly defensive tone that the weather was too unpleasant to ride about in. He sat down in a padded armchair a little drawn back from the others and watched their faces as they talked, with no particular expression on his own most of the time. But something or other made him stare quite hard at Prince Nikolai at intervals, and once or twice he put up a hand to tug at his moustache and conceal a grin which seemed in danger of breaking through against his wishes.

Before the Prince left, Tanya found an opportunity to say quietly to him, "I'm so sorry you were hurt.”

He gave her rather a hard look, as if she had surprised him, and then said, "Oh, you mean my unfortunate collision? It's nothing of any importance. I had a few ribs rather badly broken some years ago, and anything which jars my side tends to be painful."

“What did you think I meant?" Tanya asked, looking him straight in the eyes.

He returned her steady gaze, and Tanya thought she had never seen so much in a person's eyes before, but it was difficult to tell exactly what she did see . . . puzzlement? Certainly. Doubt? Maybe. Reluctance? Possibly. She thought there was a glimpse of someone lost and lonely — the motherless boy with the harsh father, perhaps.

“Something — less recent," he said, his eyes dropping.

“I mean that, too," Tanya said very softly.

He looked at her again, searchingly, and whispered, "Yes, I think perhaps you might . . ." and then Boris exclaimed "Oh, the
time,
Nikolai! Look at the
time!"
in times of extreme agitation. "He's dining
early
tonight, and I forgot to tell you!"

“You did indeed!" Prince Nikolai returned sharply. "My apologies, Maria, Tanya, Marisha, Vladimir. I'll send my carriage at eleven on Wednesday, then?" and he and Boris had left almost before Countess Maria could reply.

“He called you 'Tanya'!" Marisha remarked. "How odd!”

“Well, he was in a hurry," Vladimir said bluffly. "Quicker to say than 'Tanya Ivanovna' or 'Countess' or whatever, ain't it?”

But later on, Tanya recalled that he had in fact called her "Tanya" twice, and the first time he wasn't in a hurry.

THE Volkhov Palace was on Vassilievsky Island, down-river from Peter the Great's Twelve Academies, but unlike them, it turned its back on the river, being separated from it by a large garden, and faced on to the Bolshoi Prospect which ran the whole length of the island.

The front of the house was screened from the street by fine wrought-iron railings and high gates, and a semi-circular group of trees, well shrouded in straw and sacking for the winter. Tanya noted some rather odd shapes among them, which she thought must be statues, as Prince Nikolai's carriage turned in at the gates and swept round the curve into the open court before the entrance doors.

Prince Nikolai came out to the carriage to greet his guests despite the light fall of snow which had just begun, and no fewer than seven footmen waited in the entrance hall, one to open the door, one to help each of the three ladies to remove her outdoor wraps and boots, and three more to carry the discarded garments away.

The hall seemed enormous. It was paved with white marble, and the walls were covered with panels of soft pinkish marble in white surrounds. A double staircase led to a half-landing with a balustrade, and a single flight led up from that to the main rooms on the first floor, all in white marble. As they ascended, Tanya touched it and the wall panels, and found that the marble was real, not artificial scagliola.

The house seemed to have an oddly quiet and faintly musty atmosphere, as if nobody lived in it, and yet everything was clean and polished, and there were vases of hothouse flowers standing on consoles on either side of the dining-room doors. She noticed also that their footsteps seemed to sound too

loudly on the marble floor, despite the carpet which covered most of it on the gallery.

The dining-room was dark and oppressive, although it had large windows and any number of lighted candles. The walls were covered with dark red figured silk and the furniture was heavy oak, in the fashion of the early part of the previous century. There were more flowers on the table, and
a
gleaming white cloth caught up in festoons by silver ribbons, and the places were laid with bright silver cutlery and sparkling crystal. As Tanya took her place on the window side of the table, she glanced round the room and unconsciously sighed.

“I'm thinking of having this room done over," Prince Nikolai remarked during the meal. "It's far too dark and oppressive, don't you think?”

Those were the exact words which had occurred to Tanya the moment she entered. She gave
a
guilty start when she heard them, and said hastily, "Well, yes, and I think green would be better, or gold. Light green or pale ochre, I mean."

“Yes. And the furniture?" the Prince asked.

Tanya looked at its sheer solidity and heaviness, and said, "This is very grand, and beautifully cared-for, but something much lighter would be less . . ."

“. . oppressive," finished the Prince, and Tanya nodded. "Walnut?" suggested Countess Maria.

“Satinwood," said Tanya dreamily, looking round and trying to visualise some chairs she had seen in a house they had visited earlier in the week. "With shield-shaped backs and narrow, tapered legs, and green silk on the seats, to match the walls."

“That sounds just the thing," Prince Nikolai said thoughtfully. "Yes, just the thing."

“Nikolai," Maria said hesitantly, "are you going to open up the whole house again?" She looked as if she was poised on the edge of a hopeful expression.

Prince Nikolai took the stem of his crystal wineglass between finger and thumb and swirled its contents, apparently watching the effect of the candelight on the crimson wine. "Yes, I think perhaps I am," he said slowly. "In fact, I feel that it's time I began to wake up. I've been asleep for a hundred years, and now it's time to hack away the briars." "What
do
you mean?" Maria asked.

Prince Nikolai stopped staring at his wine and seemed suddenly aware that he wasn't talking to himself. "Oh, just a fairy-tale," he said briskly. "A French one — La
Belle au Bois Dormant.
I expect you know it."

“No," replied Countess Maria, sounding mystified. "I don't think I know any French fairy-tales."

“I believe I know it, "Tanya said thoughtfully. "About a princess who was put under
a
spell by
a
wicked fairy, and slept for a hundred years."

“What happened then?" Marisha asked.

“Something woke her again," Prince Nikolai said abruptly. "Shall we take our coffee in the salon?”

The salon was vast. It ran from front to back of the house, with windows at either end, and had four white porcelain stoves, one in each corner. The lower part of the walls was panelled in white wood, and the upper part covered with silk woven in a pattern of wreaths of roses which changed colour as one moved about. There were several very fine paintings on one long wall, but only one on the other; a portrait of a man with black hair and fierce bright blue eyes. Tanya thought at first that it was Peter the Great, and then realised that the subject was wearing the white uniform of the Chevalier Guard, which was not introduced until 1802. "Is that your father?" she asked Prince Nikolai.

“Yes. How did you know? I'm not much like him." "Fedor said he thought he was Peter the Great, and so did I at first."

“I didn't realise that Fedor could remember him," Prince Nikolai said, looking up at the picture. "He's quite right —I've often thought that I can't claim to be over-certain of the identity of my great-grandfather!”

When they had finished their coffee, Prince Nikolai invited them to come to the far end of the salon, where
a
number of jewel-cases had been set out on a table with a mirror-stand, and a chair conveniently placed before it. The cases were unlocked, and he opened them all, except the largest and one other, revealing a dozen tiaras in a variety of styles and colours. He asked Tanya to sit before the mirror, and began putting the tiaras one by one on her head.

The first was a very striking creation set with a number of large stones of different colours, cut
en cabochon
and set between thick borders of gold fashioned in a twisted cable. It was very heavy.

“A barbaric thing," the Prince commented. "Reminiscent of St. Basil's Cathedral in Moscow, don't you think?"

“I've only seen it in pictures," Tanya replied, "but I think I see what you mean.”

He took it off, to her relief, and tried another, rather like a picket fence of diamonds and sapphires, rising to a point at the centre front and tapering to a narrow band at the sides.

“Tanya never wears blue," Marisha said shyly.

Prince Nikolai removed it and tried an emerald one made up of featherlike shapes, which met with qualified approval, and then five or six diamond ones in various styles, any one of which would have done very well, but which failed to satisfy him. Another sapphire creation was rejected, followed by a gold crescent set with cameos in the style of the French Empire, which looked comically old-fashioned, and a very elaborate circlet of large diamond bows with a ruby set in each knot.

“More like a crown," Countess Maria said. "It's very beautiful, though."

“Yes, very," Tanya said, "but much too grand for me.”

Prince Nikolai took it off her head, and then opened the smaller of the two cases which he had left closed, and Tanya saw in the mirror that he was almost smiling.