by ILIL ARBEL
“That is not very good… I wonder if Gretchen and her relatives lied to me or were simply ignorant of the facts,” said Madame Golitsyn.
“I may have an opportunity to find out,” said Madame Koska. “That is what I really wanted to discuss with you. Gretchen’s aunt came to the atelier yesterday, just to visit and see the place her niece told her so much about, or at least that was what she said. Since you know her, I am sure you are aware that Mrs. Howard is a particularly charming woman, truly elegant, and I liked her. We had some tea, and she invited me to stay with them at the country house in Christmas.”
“That was rather sudden, wasn’t it?” said Madame Golitsyn. “But since you employ Gretchen, I can understand that.”
“Yes, that is what I thought,” said Madame Koska. “And it presented itself to me as an opportunity to look for certain facts.”
“But what exactly will you search for, if you go? I mean, what facts?”
“It’s a bit muddled…you see, Mr. Korolenko apparently knew Gretchen’s family when she was very young. He remembers her as a studious, highly intelligent child always involved with her studies or reading books. This does not sound like today’s Gretchen.”
“No…but people change, she might have lost her interest in books as she grew up to be a pretty young woman,” said Madame Golitsyn. “Girls go through phases.”
“Gretchen could have never been like that, Annushka; she could not be so thoroughly transformed. Our Gretchen is a sweet little thing, but she does not have a single serious thought in her head.”
Madame Golitsyn’s hand stopped in mid-air as she was about to pour a cup of tea for her friend. A sudden understanding appeared on her face, followed by concern. “You don’t mean this is not the real Gretchen?” she said.
Madame Koska clasped her hands together in a nervous gesture “No…it crossed my mind, but if I pursued this idea, it really would be too theatrical…such a situation would merit a police investigation as to what happened to the real Gretchen…someone would know all about it.”
“Well, then, what do you think?” asked Madame Golitsyn, and finished pouring the tea.
Madame Koska reached for the milk, but did not put it into her cup, and kept holding it. “I am not exactly sure. For the moment I think this is indeed Gretchen, but she is pretending to be a scatterbrained little thing, Annushka. In short, I suspect her of being involved in the break-in.”
“Are you serious? Whatever for?”
“I don’t know that or even why I suspect her, but too many things point at her being different from the kind of person she presents herself as. She was a little bit too good to be true from the start…always helping around, staying in the atelier even when she had no reason to be there, just for fun, as she says, doesn’t care about the wages…”
“But Vera, think! Put yourself in her place. She is not suffering for money, so the wages were not terribly important. The atelier offers the haute couture, the promise of parading in beautiful costumes, and companionship with the other girls. Such a situation can be enticing to a girl, particularly if she is a silly little thing who thinks of nothing but fun and clothes.”
“Ah, but is she really all that silly? When I asked her to sit at the telephones, she immediately managed to greet customers, make appointments, and generally run the front desk as well as a professional vendeuse. She took to it with the kind of skilled smoothness I certainly did not expect. And speaking of that, she was at the desk all afternoon before the robbery.”
“Except for those ten minutes when Natalya sat at the front desk. Both girls reported that Gretchen went to freshen up…but how do we know she did? She might have been anywhere, and do anything, while at the desk or away from it.”
“Exactly. That is why I suspect she is not telling the truth.”
“So you think you may find out something over Christmas if you stay there…well, yes, in her natural surroundings, she might behave differently. But be careful.”
“Careful of what?” said Madame Koska.
“I am not sure, but if Gretchen is not what she seems to be, what do we know about the aunt and uncle? Perhaps they are part of this crime ring? Remember, I only know Mr. and Mrs. Howard socially. We are not close friends.”
“Yes…it could be a family affair,” said Madame Koska thoughtfully. She put a lump of sugar in her tea and picked up a spoon, but did not use it. “But why would Mrs. Howard invite me, then? They have no idea Mr. Korolenko said anything to me about Gretchen, why would they? Gretchen did not even remember him.”
“You might want to stir your tea, Vera, before you drink it,” said Madame Golitsyn. “Did you accept the invitation?”
Madame Koska stirred her tea obediently. “Yes, I did. At least I don’t have to miss our usual Christmas dinner together, Annushka, since we celebrate on January 7, in our way.”
“True, that is good. And this year Natalya and Vasily will join us, of course.”
“That will be lovely, but we have one small problem, Annushka. They will expect me to speak Russian.”
“I did not think of it,” said Madame Golitsyn. “But it is not a problem since Vasily will most likely bring his new, very English lady friend. We will speak English for her. But Vera, I am a little worried…please promise me to be very careful.”
“I promise to do nothing foolish,” said Madame Koska. “Just observe, look around, and try to see how they interact. There will be other guests there, it’s a real house party for three whole days, so I am sure I will be safe.”
“I’ll tell you what bothers me,” said Madame Golitsyn. “It is possible that they invited you so the atelier will be empty for three days. They may want to break in again, and with you gone, it would be easier.”
“I did not think of that,” said Madame Koska. “Perhaps I should mention my plan to the police officer?”
“It might be advisable,” said Madame Golitsyn. “Don’t tell him why you are going, only that you will be away for three days. He might wish to post a policeman there.”
“I should remove everything essential from the safe,” said Madame Koska. “If anyone breaks in, I may not be so lucky again and they might force the safe open.”
“Bring everything to me at the catering kitchen,” said Madame Golitsyn, “and put it in my safe. No one will ever guess.”
“Perfect!” said Madame Koska. “Thank you, Annushka. Now that we talked about it I can have some tea…this cake looks delicious.”
“It is,” said Madame Golitsyn, and cut two generous portions.
Early in the morning, Madame Koska sat at her drawing board, sketching a design for the Mistral Collection. Her drawing station overflowed with water colours, hard and soft pencils, erasers, quill pens with many different points, large paper sheets, cups holding water in various degrees of cleanliness and containers of many brushes with their wet bristles sticking up. It was the only place where she welcomed disorder or even chaos which somehow helped her creativity. Natalya, as usual earlier than everyone else, was embroidering in the sewing room, and all was peace and quiet until a light step and a cheery “Good morning, Miss Saltykov,” broke the silence as Gretchen entered the atelier.
“Good morning, Miss Van der Hoven,” said Natalya. Madame Koska noticed that Natalya was less nervous with Gretchen than with most of the other women. Gretchen was so simple, so easy to get along with, that her manner conquered even Natalya’s reticence.
“What is this beautiful thing you are working on, Miss Saltykov?”
“This is one of the two half-sheer panels for the bodice of Lady Victoria Ashton-Smith’s dress,” said Natalya. “Look, here is the finished one that I keep on hand for comparison as I work, to be sure that they are exactly the same. Do you like it?”
“Like it? I just love it. I want so much to wear it… These black and garnet beads, and the silver embroidery thread you put on the black lace…perfection, Miss Saltykov. I am experiencing severe envy.”
Natalya laughed. “Y
ou would look very nice in it, Miss Van der Hoven. The dress itself is dark crimson velvet, most becoming to you.”
“But more becoming to Lady Victoria with her very dark hair and pale skin, I have to admit…” said Gretchen. “I admired her when she came to be measured. I can appreciate great beauty in other women, I am not really jealous.”
“Of course not,” said Natalya. “Why should you be? And come to think of it, you would look better in gold embroidery rather than silver, because of your hair colour. I am sure you prepared some very nice clothes for your Christmas house party, anyway.”
“Oh, yes. I have some beautiful ensembles ready for it, and I made auntie buy me a few wonderful new hats and shoes. And Uncle Gerry bought Auntie and me a new piece of jewelry each for Christmas. It is a secret but I peeked and saw the packages as they arrived and Goldsmiths’ can only mean jewelry. I am so excited, I have no idea what he bought. Do you know that firm?”
“Oh, yes, of course,” said Natalya. “They are very famous and quite old. They started their firm in the eighteenth century. You will have a wonderful piece, I have no doubt of that; probably either intricately worked gold or a good gemstone.”
“Oh, how divine, I can’t wait! I did drop a hint or two recently about wanting a ruby solitaire ring that would fit my middle finger, it’s all the rage…not that I would object to a new gold bracelet…you know so much about jewelry, Miss Saltykov, I noticed that.”
“Naturally, after spending my youth at the Tsar’s court,” said Natalya, sighing. “I had seen so much good jewelry, both antique and modern. I think I can identify most jewelry houses by just looking at a piece they produced.”
“Don’t say such sad things…you are still so young and pretty, Miss Saltykov.”
“Pretty? Me? Oh no…thank you for the kind words but just look at me, so tall and awkward and thin…and I think I have started aging.”
“When I look at you, Miss Saltykov, I see how charming and elegant you could look in the right clothes.”
“But the right clothes cost so much money…which I don’t have. But we must not think sad thoughts, and I am so grateful I work here. Clothes and beauty aside, my life has become so much better since I came here, and of course we must look forward to Christmas and joy.”
“You would never guess what I did about Christmas,” said Gretchen, giggling. “I asked Auntie to invite Mr. Korolenko to the house party weekend! When I told her how he recognized me when he came over to give the English lesson to Madame Koska, she remembered him too and said she certainly would be happy to see him again and talk about old times. I believe she sent the invitation already. But don’t tell Madame Koska! I want her to be pleasantly surprised, finding her friend there.”
“How nice,” said Natalya. “I am sure she will be pleased. He is a very distinguished gentleman; he used to be a highly respected university professor in Russia, Madame Koska told me. He was not one of the Tsar’s entourage, so I do not know him myself.”
They stopped talking as the other women came in, and Gretchen went to sit by the front desk. Madame Koska, who had been listening to the entire conversation, began feeling very uncomfortable. Gretchen knew perfectly well that she could hear every word spoken in the sewing room. Did she want Madame Koska to know that Mr. Korolenko was coming, while pretending to surprise her? Can it be that for some reason Gretchen hoped that Madame Koska would cancel her own visit, just because Mr. Korolenko would be there? Did Gretchen suspect that Madame Koska wanted to investigate something? She sighed. Nothing made sense, and she decided that suspecting Gretchen of duplicity regarding the break-in was making her slightly paranoid about every word the poor girl uttered. She decided to pretend that she heard nothing and returned to her drawing. Perhaps the Christmas visit would relieve her from this anxiety, if it proved that Gretchen was quite the same empty-headed, sweet creature at home as well as at the atelier. Madame Koska certainly hoped for such an outcome.
Judging from the way Gretchen’s aunt had dressed, Madame Koska knew that the level of elegance at the Christmas house party would be demanding. She liked to describe her own wardrobe as “adequate,” but of course her clothes were much more than that. Years of professional haute couture were responsible for an exquisite array of clothes, always in the latest fashion, never gaudy or overstated, never too showy, always the right kind to enhance her patrician beauty in every stage of her life, at present in her late forties. Madame Koska held firmly to the idea that a woman could look wonderful at any age, with just a little thought and planning, and long ago had decided to always be a living proof to such conviction.
Preparing for the three Christmas days visit, she spent some time packing everything in large quantities of tissue paper and placing the garments in two suitcases and three hat boxes. She made sure her dresses, lingerie, nightgowns, shoes, cosmetics, and jewelry would arrive with little wrinkling or any other damage. She assumed a housemaid would help her unpack and iron what was necessary when arriving at the country house, but the less needed to be done, the better. Whenever she traveled, she liked to arrive at her destination and find out that everything needed only hanging and airing. Two morning outfits, since she would be wearing the third as she traveled, three afternoon ensembles, and two evening gowns would have been sufficient, but she added some alternates in case a change was needed from an afternoon ensemble to a specialized tea gown, depending on the habits of the house. It was essential that no outfit would be worn more than once. As for the shoes, she took two high-heeled pairs for the nights, three medium-heeled for afternoon or tea time, and two sturdy pairs of walking shoes for the mornings, in case a walk in the woods or park was suggested.
When done, she suddenly realized she had forgotten her cigarette holders, something that happened often, for some reason, and was a source of irritation to her, since she knew that they had to match her clothes and jewelry. Shaking her head and imagining how mortified she would have been to find herself with only one cigarette holder for three full days, she opened the bottom drawer of the tallboy that held all her accessories. She had a huge assortment of cigarette holders, some given to her as gifts, some that she bought herself over the years, and as she sorted through them she found a beautiful ivory and gold holder she had not used for a while. It was a gift from her husband. She smiled wistfully at the memory of how he took her to the store to buy it and explained to the then very young woman that every accessory made a big difference to the overall appearance she wished to create. Grigory was doing well at the time, his atelier highly successful…and he really taught her so much; she owed him everything she knew about haute couture, and without him she would have remained a seamstress with an unfulfilled dream of success.
Madame Koska shivered and rewrapped her warm dressing gown around her, tying the belt in a tighter knot around her slim waste. Le Cochon…she never really grew to hate him, despite the lies, particularly the embezzling scandal that caused her so much distress when it was discovered. The horror of suddenly discovering that Grigory disappeared without a trace, leaving her to face the angry creditors and the legal issues, was almost overwhelming, but she prevailed. So many years later, she understood that Grigory knew she could do so much better than he could, that nothing on earth could crush her indomitable spirit…but why did he have to embezzle at all? That was a question that she could never answer. Well, so much about Grigory was shrouded in mystery anyway, and he was probably long dead by now.
But what if he did not die, she suddenly thought. What if he suddenly reappeared in her life…would she welcome him? Probably not, he was no longer a part of the way she saw herself, nor did she want to be married. She preferred, in all honestly, to make her own decisions, and Grigory had a very strong personality that would not allow that. Would she be able to resist his charm, his grace, the good looks he kept intact into middle age? That would be another question…even to Madame Golitsyn, her best friend and trusted confidant, she never confessed how attractive Grigory was, or how much
she loved him through their entire sham marriage.
Madame Koska shrugged, and with a smile, shook off the unexpected and uncharacteristic lapse into sentimentality. She picked up the seven holders she had selected, and put them with the rest of the accessories in her luggage. Grigory’s gift, the ivory and gold holder, would suit her travelling ensemble very well, she thought, and laid it near the choice of jewelry for the visit.
The journey to the country house was not very long, and in about two or three hours of trains and taxis Madame Koska found herself in front of the Howards’ country house. An enormous edifice with many windows stared at her under the pale, early afternoon sun. The landscape in winter was not as attractive as it would be in summer, but she could see that the grounds stretched into the distance and had wonderful old trees and huge lawns.
She paid the taxi driver and climbed a few stairs to the heavy wooden door, flanked by two ivy-covered columns. The climbing vines created an attractive lattice work on the white marble, and she thought how beautiful they would appear against it when green in the spring. As always, her designing brain registered how exciting the color combination could be, and an image of a Grecian-style dress in white, green, and driftwood-brown manifested itself to her inner eye. Making a mental note to remember it for future designs, she rang the bell. A smartly uniformed manservant opened the door, and went immediately to attend to her luggage. Another servant, a housemaid, took her furs and ushered her into the drawing room, where several guests were already gathered. Mrs. Howard rose to greet her.
“You must be so cold,” said Mrs. Howard hospitably. “I am sure it is going to snow soon. Come and have a glass of port and some biscuits. It will be about half an hour before lunch is served, and you must be famished as well. Or would you rather go upstairs and rest?”
“Oh, no, I am not tired at all,” said Madame Koska; she was quite used to travelling much larger distances and in worse weather, as she had done so often for business.
