‘Blackness, coldness, wickedness. What a catalogue,’ said Peter. His tone was icy. ‘You don’t know what you are talking about.’
‘But I do. I was there and sensed it. If you don’t stop you will be as bad.’
‘You are talking of something you know nothing about,’ said Peter slowly. ‘First impressions count for nothing.’
‘I think they count for everything. Please, Peter, please. Get out of all this, leave it all alone. Try some other way.’
‘Or?’ he enquired. ‘You will inform against me?’
‘I never said that.’
‘But it was implied. What will you do if I say no? Go away and leave me?’
‘Our marriage must end anyway. We have agreed. You promised.’ I could not keep the alarm out of my voice.
‘I do not think we can part, Rose.’
‘It was a bargain,’ I said. ‘That’s why I went to Moscow.’
‘I told you not to use that word. You went freely to Moscow.’ His voice was very cold. Not unkind, but infinitely remote and chilling.
There was a long silence, during which I had nothing to say that would not make things worse. It was very hot in our room with the shutters drawn. Outside a wind was whining as it laid the snow.
Finally, he seemed to relent a little. ‘I shall release you, Rose. In my own way and at my own time.’
‘I want it to be soon.’
He sighed. ‘Very well. You have made the choice. It shall be soon. Your present for the child in the palace has arrived. When you’ve taken it to him, then you can go.’
It was my own vow turned back on me. How strangely the gods pick up our intentions sometimes.
‘Unfortunately the pagoda was a little broken in the arrival here. Luckily it can be set to rights here in the house, but I’m afraid you can’t take it tomorrow. Why don’t you go out on your own to see the boy and prepare the way for it? A big object like that going into his room – won’t there be questions asked?’
‘Yes, that’s true,’ I said. ‘The guards check anything that arouses their interest. They are dreadfully curious. I wouldn’t like it damaged again. He can give orders that it’s to be allowed straight through.’
‘And then you can take it out there and hand it straight over. You will need help in any case. A couple of men to carry it. It’s very heavy. So you will have to get permission for them, too.’
‘Oh yes, I will. That’s a good idea. Although the guards know me by now. And they are such simple country boys.’
I followed Peter out of the room and down the stairs to the very lowest floor of the house. This was a strange world to me, and I looked around curiously. Then Peter opened a door in the short passage that led to the vast cave of the kitchens, and I saw my Chinese pagoda gleaming in the gaslight, all red and gold.
Working on it was my German man-servant. He gave a bow when he saw us, and stepped back so that I could look, but was otherwise taciturn. He did not improve on acquaintance. With my trip to Moscow behind me, I was in an edgy mood, not willing to accept this man and his ways any longer.
On the floor were the wrappings which had enclosed the pagoda. I thought I could tell from the broken seal that he had disturbed the wrappings put on by the shop, Knopf’s. Out of curiosity, no doubt, in which case it was he who damaged my present. I complained to Peter, who shrugged. ‘It is his job to check the packages.’
‘But I don’t like him and would rather he did not serve me. Dismiss him for me, will you?’
‘Well – ’ Peter hesitated. ‘That’s hard, I think.’
‘Then send him to work elsewhere. But not with me. I mean it.’
Peter gave in gracefully. ‘Of course. I’ll do what you say. I’ll tell him myself. But it wasn’t he who damaged your present, you know.’
‘Nosey old thing. I’m sure it was his fault somehow. I’d rather he left it alone. I suppose he must finish the repairs on it, and then he can go away.’
‘If you say so.’
‘I do.’
We stayed a few minutes longer while I examined the piece of furniture, which it really was much more than a toy or a bed for an animal. Knopf’s had made it beautifully, every detail delicately carved and painted. Inside, the sleeping quarters were padded in dark-red quilted silk. I only wondered if any animal would dare to sleep in it.
As we left the room I could see on one hand the lights of the kitchens and on the other the dark stairwell. Low pillars supported the ceiling, making many dark shadows. I glanced back as we walked towards the stairs. I saw a figure move out of the shadows and slip into the room we had left.
‘Who’s that?’ I turned round. Peter caught me.
‘Now, Rose.’
‘No. I want to see.’
I marched back and threw open the door. I found myself looking into the sallow face of Mr Jakob.
Peter took the door from me and firmly closed it. ‘Why is Mr Jakob here?’ I said. ‘Why didn’t I know?’
‘Where else should he be?’ said Peter quietly: ‘Where else can it be safe? It is only for a little while.’
‘You’ve made me a fool. You could have told me.’
‘The fewer people who know, the better. To the servants he is the German’s brother. Soon he’ll be gone.’
‘They both will,’ I said fiercely.
‘Yes. I promise. I have promised.’
One of the nicest ways of winter travelling was by horse-drawn sleigh. Dolly Denisov, of course, had one, and for a moment I thought how delightful it would be to sweep out to Tsarskoe Seloe in such a style, like St Nicholas himself. One made good speed on the frozen snow by sleigh, but the distance really was too far; it was better to go by train or motor-car.
A chill mist hung over the city as I set out, reminding me that Peter the Great had built his city on the marshes. I was glad to drive fast, glad that Peter had given me, as if by foresight, a closed motor-car.
I got the usual salute from the soldiers at the gate, and was waved on. I didn’t know the sentry’s face, but he knew me, and recognized me as a permitted visitor.
I found the boy with one of his tutors, a man I didn’t know, with grey hair and a fat face. Both of them looked up, surprised.
‘I’ve come to tell you that I am going to bring you a present. A bed for your little cat,’ I explained. ‘I needn’t ask if he’s still here, because I can see him sprawling across your work.’ I smiled at the tutor. ‘I suppose I shouldn’t be here.’
‘This is my German tutor,’ said the boy. ‘We only talk German together. He does not speak Russian or English.’
Or not willingly, I thought, seeing the man’s sour look. There was said to be a lot of German influence at the Court, a source of much criticism. The Tsarina usually got the credit for it.
‘I can’t bring it today, but I’ve come to get permission to bring it to you tomorrow, together with my servants who must carry it.’
‘Oh, you don’t need permission. You are always welcome.’
‘The extra people with me, you know, seemed to make this trip necessary,’ I reminded him. ‘The guards could make difficulties.’
He thought for a moment. ‘They can be stupid. Unluckily no one takes any notice of me. Still, he can tell them.’ And he nodded towards his tutor. ‘They take notice of him. Monstrously unfair, isn’t it? Because I am the Heir.’ Then he chuckled. ‘Still, he more or less does what I tell him. Don’t let’s bother with him now. I’ll do it later. He’s so cross at the moment. I’m idle, you see, and that annoys him.’ Again he gave a chuckle. ‘I don’t like German. No true Russian does. I tell him that.’
‘No wonder he’s annoyed.’
‘Ah well, I make it up in other ways, because I don’t dislike him when he’s not cross. For instance, I always let him smoke his pipe when he wants, and considering the smell, I call that very good of me. When he and Papa are both at it, my goodness.’ And he wrinkled up his elegant little nose.
‘Whereas you always smell delicious
, and I am sure you never smoke.’
‘That’s true. Still, you never know.’
I was amused and touched at his show of affection. ‘Goodbye. I must go now.’ I bowed to his tutor, who made a sort of grunting noise.
Alexis walked to the door with me. ‘My leg’s not so bad,’ he said. ‘I don’t walk too badly, do I?’
‘Very well,’ I said, and meant it.
‘But I don’t know if I shall be allowed to go to all the celebrations in March, because Mother is ill. I’d like to go, but she can’t bear the idea of it all.’ And he sighed, a strangely adult noise. ‘Think of it, three hundred years. I’m not much like Peter the Great, am I? He liked cats too, though, did you know that? Napoleon hated them, but Peter the Great liked them. Well, so I’ve heard, anyway.’
There was a growl from the table, and in English, too: ‘Sir, you are talking too much.’
‘When my parents come to tea tomorrow, as they will, I’ll ask Papa to give me a bed for each of my cats,’ he called, as he limped back to the table. ‘And he’ll say, What, six beds! But he’ll let me have them.’
Dolly was waiting for me when I got back, appearing from her sitting-room with an anxious look. ‘Where have you been? Driving around at this hour?’
Briefly I told her.
‘I think you’ll never understand the ways of Russia,’ she said. ‘You never seem to know what is done and what is not. The servants don’t like it, to begin with.’
‘Does it matter about them?’
‘It does and it doesn’t. Oh, you’ll never understand us.’ She was almost wringing her hands. I had the feeling that, although she was expressing worry about me, the source of it was really something else.
‘Oh, Dolly!’
‘Yes, you can look amused. But here you are off from home on your own – ’ she almost spat these words out – ‘and Peter saying that he is going to carry you off to Paris with him.’
‘Did he say that?’ I was surprised. ‘It’s not true, of course.’ But then I thought: ‘He promised me my freedom.’ This was his way of doing it. We would part in Paris.
‘I think the world’s gone mad,’ said Dolly, at her most Russian.
‘Oh, Dolly!’ I said again.
‘No, you listen to me. Things do break up, crack into little pieces and float apart, friends move away from each other, people fall away from their families, from their countries. And when they do, it is never a good sign.’
When I got to my own room the first person I saw was my German man-servant standing among my possessions. ‘What are you doing here?’ I said sharply. ‘You are dismissed. I do not want you.’
He smiled and bowed, and very slightly shook his head.
Incredulously, I thought: ‘He’s not going to go. He’s just not going.’ ‘Leave my room at once,’ I ordered.
Still smiling, still managing to convey that he was not leaving my service, he edged himself out of the room – to me now a sinister and alarming figure.
I walked over to where he had been standing by the bed, but nothing seemed touched, nothing disarranged. Then I saw that in fact he had been nearest to the mouth of the speaking-tube which protruded from a recess near the head of the bed. The plug-on cap, which usually hung on a cord beside it, had been inserted in the tube, so wedged in that it was now impossible to move it.
I noticed all this without understanding why he had been tampering with it. I had once heard a voice answer me from such a tube in another room, or I had thought I did. Perhaps the noises that had disturbed my sleep had come from this tube by my bed. Echoes of the servants’ voices, it could be.
If so, it might be a kind gesture on the part of Peter to get this tube sealed up. I touched the mouth of it, the plug of which now seemed cemented in. No more voices would be heard through this instrument.
A sort of sullen heaviness descended on the household that night. Dolly and I dined alone with the silent company of Ariadne. Peter did not appear, and I was too proud to ask Dolly if she knew where he was. Just before we had finished eating, a note from him was handed to me. Dolly looked at me, waiting.
‘Just a note from the English Club to say I shall see him later,’ I said.
Dolly’s lips tightened. ‘Gambling. It is one of the curses of our family. My father would stay at the table for days on end.’
I stayed awake all night, waiting for Peter, hoping he would come, but he did not. Of course there were no voices; my room was quiet, except for the soft rustle of ash. No sound came in from the great city outside: the triple depth of the winter windows, with their double glass and wooden shutters, kept out the noise as well as the cold. The whole house seemed still, with the kind of absolute stillness that, so they say, precedes a storm.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
It was still dark when I woke. In my dreams I had been back at Jordansjoy, and for a moment I lay confused. Then I remembered what was ahead of me on that day: another visit to the Summer Palace and this time bearing my gift.
I got up and dressed myself. ‘And if we are to go to Paris,’ I thought, ‘I might as well start to sort out my possessions.’ After Paris, I should only come back to St Petersburg as a visitor; the matter of the Gowrie Works I would sort out in my own good time. I was beginning to see a way through that problem.
After I had gone through my own property, selecting what I should need for Paris, I went into Peter’s dressing-room to do something of the same for him. I had been married long enough to know what were the small possessions he liked to carry about with him – his ivory-backed hairbrushes, a small chess set carved in jade, a leather-bound note book (a diary, I thought) and a little leather bag with his watch and a few gold coins in it.
But as I went in I was surprised to see him lying on his bed, fully dressed but asleep. He stirred and woke as I stood there.
‘So you are here. I didn’t know.’
He swung himself up, trying to shake off sleep. ‘I was very late; I didn’t want to disturb you.’
I came up close. ‘You weren’t gambling at the English Club? Dolly said you were.’
He laughed. ‘No, not gambling. Not with money, anyway.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Nothing.’ He stood, looking tired and shaky. ‘Rose, do you think you could make me some coffee? There is a little apparatus for doing so over there on the table in the window. I use it when I get up early.’
‘Yes, of course I will.’ I went over to the table and lit the little spirit lamp, and poured coffee into the top of the copper pot; the bottom half already contained water. ‘What a secret life you lead, Peter, with your early rising and coffee making!’ I was half laughing, I was so relieved to see him.
‘You’re dressed yourself.’
‘Yes.’ I remembered why I was dressed. ‘Are we going to Paris, Peter? Dolly said so. Is that where we will part?’
‘Dolly again! But would you like to?’ He was taking off his soiled and crumpled shirt and putting on a fresh one. ‘Can you hear the church bells?’
I listened. ‘Yes, I can hear something.’
‘It’s morning.’ He took the coffee I handed him, and drank it. ‘Not light yet, though.’ In midwinter it was sometimes almost noon before a grey light broke through the darkness of St Petersburg.
‘I have to go out again, Rose. You’ll wait for me here?’
‘Of course.’ I was puzzled and frightened. ‘But I have to deliver my present to the boy. The pagoda for the cat. I promised.’
He smiled at me. ‘Drink some coffee and don’t look so scared.’ He was putting on a fur-lined cloak and drawing on gloves. ‘We can see about your present to the Tsarevitch. Don’t worry. I have the arrangements in hand.’
‘Are we running away, Peter?’ I wondered if the Third Bureau was in his mind.
‘We are running to Paris. Would not all true Russians do that if they could? And then you will be able to go to London. Goodbye. I’ll be back soon.’
‘What shall I tell Doll
y?’ I said as he went to the door.
‘Nothing. Leave Dolly be.’
When he’d gone, I stood in my own room with all the signs of packing about it, and wondered what to do with myself. I felt puzzled and lost, the two people that had warred inside me merging into one unhappy girl.
If I was going to leave St Petersburg I knew I must say goodbye to Princess Irene. I was drinking some coffee when I heard a timid little tap at the door.
‘Come in,’ I called.
The door opened a crack, and through the crack peered the sour face of the old Princess’s woman-servant. ‘My Excellency wants you: you are to come.’
I hesitated. ‘I am to bring you with me. Come.’ And she turned away, confident I would follow.
Up the Red Staircase we went, she leading, bobbing along with her awkward walk. She was slightly lame on one side, from some rheumatic infection, I suspected, which must be painful.
The old Princess was in her bed, propped up on pillows, wrapped in a fur-lined cape, a pack of cards near one hand and a glass of dark brandy near the other. She had been smoking the little black cigarettes to which she was addicted. There was one now burning itself out between her fingers.
‘You’ll kill yourself,’ I said gently, looking reprovingly from drink to cigarette.
She gave a dry, ironic laugh. ‘But I am dead already.’ I was silent. ‘Yes. It is all gone, that lovely, false last life you gave me.’
‘I gave you nothing.’
‘Don’t worry. I shan’t ask for any more help.’
Sadly, I said: ‘I have none to give. I am empty.’
‘I know it; it is no marriage at all, yours to my great-nephew, is it? No, you don’t need to talk.’ She opened her eyes as wide as she could to give me a meaning look. I could see the tiny red veins threaded across the eyeballs and smell the brandy on her breath. ‘You are in danger. That’s what I want to say.’ She gave a groan.
I put my hand quickly on hers. ‘Is it the pain again?’
‘No, I have no pain; that, at least, you did for me. No, no pain in the body, only in the mind.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You know I have my informants? I have many old friends and we meet here, a little circle of those who love the old Russia. We have friends in the Third Bureau.’ I nodded. ‘And the Bureau has a friend among us. Oh yes, we all have our spies.’ She managed a grim smile. ‘And spies have spies upon their backs, like lice, you know. Lady Londonderry said we all had lice.’
The Red Staircase Page 41
