I decided that I should at least look busy, and went down to the library to sort through the books. After a while, Anya came in, smiling as usual, and seemed to be as pleased to see me there as I was to see her. She guided me round to the sitting area by the fire and lit the spirit burner under the samovar. My heart sank when I realised that the endless rounds of tea-drinking were about to recommence. While we were waiting, Anya presented me with several large books, old and musty, that contained, for the most part, black and white photographs taken during the Russian Civil War, 1917 to 1923. Bearded generals in Cossack hats leapt from the pages but I was relieved to see that the printed texts were in French or English and not in Cyrillic script.
‘The Princess has to be knowledgeable on Russian history and it might be as well if you brushed up on it too.’
‘Brushed up?’ I repeated out loud, thinking that I knew virtually nothing about Russia or Russians, White or Red, except for a few émigrés I’d met here in Paris.
‘Nicholas,’ Anya said, looking very serious. ‘You must understand that this House exists totally in that era. The Grand Duchess will speak to you – when you eventually meet her – about Bolshevism, White Russians, the fighting in the Crimea and the evacuation of the aristocracy, just as if it’s happening now. You really have to understand that, or you will feel lost for the whole of your stay. You must open your mind to us and accept our rather odd way of living. That way, it will be so much more enjoyable for you.’
She leaned towards me, looking round as though she were part of a conspiracy, and lowered her voice to a whisper.
‘They are living a dream here, Nicholas, and we must go along with it. Accept what you are told even if it seems ludicrous to you. Just play along…it’s not so hard. It’s like a chance to go back in time. Just accept that life here is like a theatrical play and you are playing a part. You do understand, don’t you?’
She looked at me imploringly. Struck by her seriousness, I hastened to reassure her and had a sudden urge to put my cards on the table and tell her how my desperate situation had brought me here; but, although I felt a sort of bond with her, I couldn’t bring myself to open up to her so soon.
As we sat looking at each other in silence, the door opened suddenly, startling us both. In the doorway, poised dramatically, stood a tall, slim woman wearing a big hat with a dark veil – the woman I had seen on the stairs the night before.
‘Madame Lili! You startled us!’ Anya exclaimed.
Madame Lili removed her hat and veil and turned towards us. Even by the dim light of the fire, she took my breath away! The immediate impression was of an aristocratic face, with high cheekbones, delicate and well-shaped, and a fine, straight nose above full lips and mouth. Her dark brown hair was thick and shiny and piled on top of her head in a style I associated with the women in Victorian photographs.
Looking straight into my eyes, unblinking, she approached the table. I struggled to rise and meet her penetrating gaze. As she came closer, I was aware of a certain freshness emanating from her, newly arrived from the spring afternoon outside, but it was soon overpowered by the scent of violets, a heavy perfume that pervaded the air around me. She dazzled me. The cosy room was alive with her presence. I was drawn by her fixed, unwavering stare, and only vaguely aware that Anya was making an introduction.
‘Madame Lili – Nicholas…our new tutor.’
The beautiful creature in front of me bowed her head slightly and extended her gloved hand in such a way that I was uncertain whether to shake it or kiss it. Finally, I just grasped it gently. Madame Lili was smiling at me now, her face very close to mine, her full mouth revealing perfect white teeth.
A feeling of intimidation swept over me and I could feel myself blushing at the embarrassment of her closeness. She must have seen this and moved even closer. Clasping my other hand, she held me tightly, pulling me down as she sat beside me, her face even closer to mine and her eyes boring into my very soul. This deliberate violation of my personal space intimidated me, and her stare became almost a physical contact.
Unable to hold her gaze any longer, I looked down, aware that I was blushing uncontrollably. Her hands continued to grip mine tightly and I noticed that her gloves were damp, although it was not raining outside.
‘Thank you, Anya.’ Her voice was deep yet soft. ‘So, Monsieur Nicholas, tell me all about yourself, but first, what is your father’s name?’
The question seemed odd; I couldn’t see the relevance but answered mechanically, ‘Frederick.’
‘Ah ha! Feodor, in Russian. Good. I shall call you Nicolai Feodorovitch.’
Anya was later to explain the Russian fondness for patronymics.
‘We will be friends, won’t we, Nicolai Feodorovitch? And I will look after your spiritual guidance. I feel already that you are a lost soul, and that fate has brought you to this House, and to us. We will save you.’
Lacking any obvious verbal response, I managed a solemn nod of the head.
‘Let me look at you, Nicolai; there is so much to see in you…’
She moved back from me but retained both my hands in hers, squeezing them tightly in her damp gloves. Her eyes were closed now, as if in a trance, the silence lasting for several moments.
Suddenly, she opened her eyes very wide and startled me. The irises were almost violet. A sort of dizziness was creeping up on me and I felt light-headed and not quite in control of myself. The room shimmered slightly and colours seemed to be brighter and deeper than before. Madame Lili’s face seemed to fill my view – dark hair, dark red lips, white teeth and again that deep purple of her eyes. I began to feel uneasy, trapped and suffocated, and finally moved to pull my hands away.
Surprisingly, Madame Lili let go of my fingers immediately and withdrew to a normal distance. She stood up abruptly.
‘Good afternoon, Nicholas. We will meet again soon. You will understand how much I can help you.’
And, with those enigmatic words, she was gone.
Anya’s face now appeared in front of me. ‘Nicholas! Nicholas! Are you all right?’
She seemed anxious and was tapping my face lightly. I made an effort to pull myself together and accepted a glass of water from her in the hope that it would make me feel better, then a glass of tea. A few minutes later and I was fighting to keep awake. I vaguely remember Anya helping me climb the stairs to my room. I fell asleep immediately, but strange dreams intruded and disturbed my mind. I had no defences.
CHAPTER 4
Listen to My Voice...
I awoke fully clothed, sprawled across the bed. I had missed dinner and slept right through the night. My head ached and I was shaking slightly – all the symptoms of a major hangover.
Mercifully, my appearance in the kitchen caused little comment. I managed a piece of toast and several cups of coffee, then decided that it was a good time to get some fresh air and explore the gardens.
The park around the House was not particularly big – land was at a premium in the Paris suburbs – but it was very secluded and divided up into separate areas by large clumps of shrubs. Just outside the back door, a café-sized table and chairs nestled in a small courtyard surrounded by lime trees and roses. Further down, a brick path led to a secluded arbour with a bench seat and, beyond that, a wide lawn dotted with clumps of rhododendrons just coming into flower.
I flopped down on the bench in the rose arbour, inhaling the spring air deeply to try to clear my head. Quite what had happened to me the afternoon before was a mystery. My first meeting with Madame Lili had left me weak and confused. Perhaps, in future, I should avoid too many cups of Russian tea! Vague glimpses of weird dreams came gradually into my mind and my head ached as never before.
As I opened my eyes slowly, squinting in the sunlight and looking out across the grass towards the property next door, a sudden movement caught my eye. Looking again, I saw a group of people in the distance, moving along the boundary. I could just make out that one woman was in an old-fashioned bath chair. Pu
shing her was a small man with a moustache and short beard, and next to him was a boy in a sailor suit. Behind this group were three young women, all in long, old-fashioned dresses. It wasn’t, however, the Edwardian clothes that caught my attention but rather the fact that they all appeared as black and white, in monochrome against a colourful garden background – all, that is, except a fourth girl. Tall and very slim, dressed in a long, pale blue summer dress, hair piled on top of her head, she appeared in full colour, albeit subdued by the pastel shade of her dress and its edging of darker blue lace. This very odd phenomenon would have registered more with me if I had not felt so washed out. As it was, I closed my aching eyes for a moment and when I looked up the group had vanished, except for the fourth girl. She turned and raised her hand to me in a sort of wave. I got to my feet but, when I looked again, she too had vanished. It occurred to me that they must be neighbours and had returned to their home through a gap in the hedge that I could not see.
On returning towards the kitchen, I found Anya sitting at the café table, and she motioned for me to join her.
‘Nicholas, I’ve been looking for you. God! You look awful; are you ill?’
‘I don’t know. Did I do something stupid last night?’
Anya looked at me, trying not to smile. ‘No, Nicholas, you were fine. You just happened to meet Madame Lili at her most mischievous.’
‘Mischievous? What does that mean?’
Anya bit her lip and then looked up at me. ‘Nicholas, do you remember that I told you that Madame Lili is a very dangerous woman? You have now seen why. She has “the gift”, and she can make strange and frightening things happen. Treat her with great respect.’
‘“The gift?” Come on, Anya, you don’t believe in all that mumbo-jumbo, do you?’
‘Stop it! Just because you don’t believe in it, it doesn’t mean you’re safe. Madame Lili is a gifted medium. You would do well not to upset her…that’s all I’m saying. Now come with me. Put your other suit on, the dark blue one. I’m going to introduce you to the Princess.’
We went up to my apartment and Anya waited in the schoolroom while I changed my clothes. She looked me over when I rejoined her, straightened my tie, and then went off to find my pupil. I had determined to make a good start with the Princess Natalya: my relationship with her would affect the whole situation of my three-month stay in the House.
Nothing, however, had prepared me for her appearance that fine spring day. Anya entered first and stood back to admit ‘Her Imperial Highness, Natalya Alexandrovna Romanova’. Framed by the doorway was a tall, slim girl, blonde hair pulled back in a formal bun. She wore a long, plain white dress with no jewellery or adornment whatsoever. But the thing that impressed me most was her extreme pallor. Her delicate face with its high cheekbones was somehow reminiscent of Madame Lili except for its total lack of any colour, including her lips, which had only the slightest pink hue. Dark shadows encircled her blue-grey eyes and lent weight to her sad expression – a beautiful face that never smiled.
She moved slowly towards me as if each step was an effort, not taking her eyes from mine, and slowly lifted her hand.
Again not sure whether to shake it or kiss it, I did neither but instead managed a self-conscious clasping of her right hand with a simultaneous awkward inclination of my head – neither a bow nor a nod. She stood looking straight at me and I felt that, in spite of her obvious youth and frailty, she still managed to convey a sort of regal dignity.
To my relief, she did not speak to me, and I cursed myself for not asking Anya how I should address this striking young woman. While I hesitated, she took the initiative and almost smiled at me; her even white teeth somehow completing her pallor. The look, though, was warm enough. Anya excused herself with something approaching a curtsey and left me alone with my pupil. There followed a moment of awkwardness; neither of us seemed to know what to do next.
My overall impression was that I was dealing with an invalid, and so I pulled up the nearest chair. She sat down and looked up at me questioningly.
‘Your Highness…’ I heard myself saying.
‘Natalie,’ she corrected. It seemed a little informal but I had little choice but to comply.
‘Er…Natalie…I hope I may be of service…’ I mumbled, feeling strangely self-conscious in the face of her stare.
‘Your name again?’ she asked softly.
‘Nicholas.’
‘What do your friends call you, Nicholas?’
‘Well, here in France, usually…Nico.’
She looked at me, very still, head on one side.
‘Then I shall call you Monsieur Nicholas, because you are older than I and age demands respect.’ Again, the white smile.
‘But I should call you…’
‘Natalie,’ she insisted. ‘When we are alone,’ she added.
Her French seemed fluent enough. There was, of course, an accent, quite charming but oddly not Russian. Her intonation was more Germanic – as a Swiss German might speak French. I made a mental note to ask Anya about it. I’d noticed the same accent with Madame Lili’s French. But then, I didn’t suppose any of the family had lived in Russia since 1918!
Natalie’s English also seemed quite fluent, and I was relieved that she wouldn’t have to start as an absolute beginner.
We spent an hour together and to my delight I found her easy to talk to. Young as she was, she had that aristocratic ability to put people at their ease. Finally, very politely, she excused herself by saying that she was a little tired but looked forward to starting her studies in earnest the next day. I stood up as she rose and walked to the door before I could get there to open it. Turning, she smiled at me.
‘Don’t be late, Nico!’
After all the formality, it was a welcome, if childlike, comment, and I found myself smiling back.
Flopping down on my sofa, I breathed a long sigh of relief that the ice was broken. I thought of Bruno, Aurélie and Jean-Marie in the grubby café near the Boul’Mich. and decided, ungratefully, that I didn’t miss them at all. I allowed myself a certain smugness at the sheer comfort of my new-found situation.
An hour was spent planning the next day’s lessons and then, with a certain lightness of step, I skipped down the servants’ back stairs to the kitchen in search of some lunch.
The afternoon passed quickly, talking to Anya and again leafing through the old books about the Russian Civil War that she had insisted I read. Soon it was time for dinner. Instead of eating together in the library, Anya suggested we join the staff in the kitchen.
Once dinner had been served ‘upstairs’, everyone seemed to relax and, after it had been cleared away, it was our turn and we sat down on the benches at the long scrubbed wooden table near the huge stone fireplace and ate a wonderful meal with Amélie, Sergei and Agnès. If the atmosphere seemed a little strained initially, the amusement of the others at my ignorance of Russian cuisine soon broke the ice. The enjoyable evening that followed was no doubt partly due to the bottle of vodka that Serge produced – yet another Russian custom to be introduced to me.
There followed a good night’s sleep. Now that I had met my pupil, I felt more relaxed and, perhaps prematurely, overcome by a cosy feeling of belonging, almost as if I had found a family of sorts. Perhaps that’s exaggerating a bit but I certainly experienced a sort of warm glow of security and continuity and considered the House, for all its oil lamps and dark wood panelling, a bright and cosy refuge from my recent sea of troubles.
The morning brought its own surprises. I made a special effort in washing, shaving and combing my unruly hair and trying to get used to wearing a tie again. I felt my new, beautifully tailored suits and silk shirts deserved it. Thankfully, I wasn’t expected to wear a butterfly collar!
For some reason, I half expected Natalya to be late – after all, there was no one to tell her off – but she knocked on the school door promptly at 9 a.m. I had the lessons all planned out, and felt confident and ready for any eventuality.
> Nothing, however, could have prepared me for my surprise at opening the door.
Natalya was standing back, partly obscured by the shadows of the gloomy passageway, but, as she stepped forward and entered the sunlit classroom, she took my breath away. Gone was the frumpy long cotton frock of the day before, the flat shoes and the pulled-back hair. In front of me, very conscious of the effect she was creating, stood a very beautiful young woman. An elegant, cream-coloured two-piece outfit hugged her slim figure, heeled shoes increased her already considerable height, a beautiful high-collared Victorian blouse enhanced her graceful neck, and an antique golden chain with a Russian Orthodox two-barred cross hung upon her chest.
She couldn’t fail to notice my surprise. She turned to face me and moved closer. Subtle make-up hid the pallor of her face, and a hint of pink lip gloss emphasised the whiteness of her teeth. As she moved, a musky perfume reached me.
But her hair! I stared at the short blonde bob framing her face, cut diagonally away from her high cheekbones on one side and hanging like a gold curtain across her eye.
Like an idiot, I blurted out, ‘You cut your long hair!’
To my relief, her reaction was merely to laugh.
‘No, I didn’t, Monsieur Nicholas…’ she said, smiling and with a faintly mocking tone. ‘I just took my hairpiece off!’
I continued to stare at her foolishly.
‘Look’, she explained, ‘my aunt, the Grand Duchess, likes us all to dress and look like people from the times of her youth – you know, 1900 – long dresses, long hair, big hats, that sort of thing. But it’s hard work having long hair, so we cheat. We wear hairpieces.’
She burst out laughing at my obvious bewilderment.
‘What, all of you?’ I asked, thinking of Anya.
‘All of us, except Madame Lili and the Grand Duchess, of course.’
The Spaces in Between Page 4
