The Lost Sapphire

by Belinda Murrell

  ‘Even better,’ Violet agreed. ‘Dad will be ecstatic.’

  Anastacia returned, carrying a tray with a pretty tea set, mismatched fine bone china cups and a golden-brown cake dusted with icing sugar. Nikolai’s mother poured the tea while Anastacia passed the cups and saucers. Katya served the cake. Violet took a forkful. The cake was moist, airy and not too sweet, with tiny flecks of soft green apple baked through it.

  ‘It’s a Russian Sharlotka cake,’ explained Nikolai’s mother. ‘Anastacia made it. Just like the ones we used to have back home.’

  ‘Anastacia has become quite a chef since we moved here,’ Katya added, ‘which is lucky because the rest of us can’t cook. Can we, Mamma?’

  The girls chattered on, teasing each other about failed cooking attempts and disastrous dinners. Nikolai’s mother fussed over him, insisting that he eat more cake and have more tea, as though he was starved at Riversleigh.

  Nikolai brought the conversation around to the Ball by fetching Violet an old book that was perched on the mantel piece. ‘I thought you might like to borrow the book of old fairytales that we brought from Russia. Some of the illustrations might give you inspiration for your Russian Relief Fund Ball.’

  ‘It’s gorgeous, Nikolai,’ said Violet with delight as she leafed through the old book with its mysterious Russian script.

  ‘This is Vasilisa the Beautiful, who has a little wooden doll that was given to her by her dying mother,’ Nikolai explained, indicating an illustration of a fair-haired girl in a blue smock. ‘After a time, her grief-stricken father remarries and travels abroad on business, leaving Vasilisa with the cruel stepmother and two foolish stepsisters, who starve her and make Vasilisa work day and night, but the little doll magically helps her.’

  ‘It sounds something like our Cinderella tale,’ said Violet. Her eye was caught by a picture of an ugly old woman flying through the forest. ‘Who’s this?’

  ‘Baba Yaga – a terrifying witch who flies on a mortar and pestle and eats people,’ Nikolai continued, using a scary voice. ‘The wicked stepmother sends Vasilisa to Baba Yaga’s hut to fetch a light, hoping she’ll be gobbled. The girl is terrified, but with the help of her mother’s blessing – the little wooden doll – Vasilisa outwits the witch and carries home a human skull filled with coals. The stepmother and stepsisters are burned to ashes by the skull, and eventually the brave Vasilisa marries the very handsome Tsar.’

  Violet laughed. ‘Of course she does, lucky girl.’

  Next, Nikolai showed her an illustration of twelve dancing princesses. ‘This story is called “The Midnight Dance”, about twelve lovely princesses who sneak off each night to the accursed Tsar’s underground home. They dance all night until their new shoes are ruined.’

  Violet examined it closely. ‘These illustrations are superb. Perhaps I could paint large canvases of some of these scenes for the ball.’

  Nikolai closed the book, looking pleased. ‘I hoped you’d like them. Perhaps you could tell the girls about the Russian Ball, and we can think of some other ways we can help.’

  Violet outlined the ideas that she had come up with so far, inspired by her discussions with Nikolai.

  ‘We can sew traditional Cossack uniforms for the waiters and costumes for the dancers,’ Katya said. ‘And we’ll ask the local Russian community for help.’

  ‘We can buy the fabric from wholesalers in Flinders Lane so it won’t cost very much,’ Tatiana assured her. ‘We know several Russian suppliers there who will help us.’

  Violet beamed around at the Khakovsky family. She felt like she had stepped into another, more exotic world. Despite the slightly shabby furnishings, this apartment felt warm and welcoming, and so very different to her own home.

  ‘Perhaps you might like to come to one of our Russian Club evenings to see some of the dances,’ Anastacia suggested. ‘Then you can see what we are talking about. We have a social dance every Monday night with chess and music and a Russian supper. Would you like to join us?’

  ‘I’d love to,’ Violet agreed. ‘I suddenly feel like organising the Ball will be much easier than I’d feared.’

  ‘And in a couple of days I can design you an entire modish wardrobe for your approval,’ promised Katya. ‘A ball gown, tea gowns, summer frocks – and even an archery outfit if you need one.’

  Violet laughed. ‘Not so sure if I need an archery dress, but the rest sounds heavenly.’

  Before they left, Katya took Violet into one of the bedrooms to take her measurements and pull out some fabric samples. There was a sewing machine on a table by the window. Katya unrolled sheer silk chiffons, thick satins and stiff tulle in a rainbow of colours.

  ‘I love this tea gown in cream lace,’ said Katya, showing Violet a sketch from the latest French Vogue magazine. ‘I think that would look pretty on you, and how about this style for an evening dress in a pale sage green with silver beading?’

  ‘It’s heavenly,’ Violet agreed. ‘I’ve never owned anything as beautiful as that.’

  Katya jotted down her measurements and noted the frocks that Violet liked the best.

  ‘Thanks for being so kind to my brother,’ Katya said as they finished. ‘It was very hard for him to go into service. He’s so lucky to have found a family that treats him well.’

  Violet nodded. ‘It’s our pleasure.’

  But there was something about Nikolai’s family that didn’t quite add up. The girls with the grace of prima ballerinas. Nikolai with his demeanour that was always polite but never servile. And the home that was well-worn but stylish – a far cry from Sally’s house on the other side of Richmond.

  15

  Maison de Mademoiselle Perrot

  Imogen was delighted when Violet told her about the talented Russian seamstresses who had promised to make her some dresses. So it was arranged that the sisters would visit Nikolai’s home in Richmond a few days later to choose some fabric and order gowns to be made for the Russian Ball. Katya had designed a number of outfits for Violet, and Tatiana had bought some rolls of fabric on approval from a Russian haberdasher in Flinders Lane.

  The girls sat at the round dining table while Anastacia made coffee. Mrs Khakovska was at her writing desk by the window, doing the accounts.

  Katya had a sheaf of several drawings of outfits she had designed.

  ‘I can’t believe you have done all those drawings already,’ said Violet, pulling off her gloves and laying them in her lap.

  ‘I do hope you like some of them,’ Katya replied. ‘I started work on them soon after you left, while your colouring and figure were fresh in my mind.’

  Anastacia came back in carrying a tray with a coffee pot and cups, and a plate of biscuits. ‘Don’t start just yet. I want to see them too.’ She poured the coffee into the cups and offered one to each of the girls, along with the milk jug and sugar bowl.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Imogen, taking her coffee cup and pouring in the milk.

  ‘And a Russian tea biscuit?’ Anastacia offered.

  The homemade biscuits were golden pastry scrolls filled with raspberry jam, walnuts and raisins, and dusted with cinnamon sugar. Violet nibbled one. It was flaky and delicious with the coffee.

  Katya spread several pastel-colour drawings across the table, each one with suggestions for matching hats, gloves and jewellery. The afternoon dresses flowed softly to mid-calf, with elbow-length sleeves and rounded bateau necklines.

  ‘You said you might want four or five frocks, so I designed a few for you to choose from,’ Katya said. ‘I designed them all to be loose-fitting, comfortable and easy to move in, but also chic with gorgeous fabrics.’ Violet examined the stylised drawings on the table. As a keen artist herself, she recognised the skill in the sketches. ‘Firstly, this tea gown is a sheath of cream lace with an ivory silk underdress that would be lovely to wear for summer garden parties or afternoon tea. The cream sash at the waist can be changed to give a very different look. For example, it could be sage green with a creamy silk gardeni
a worn at the hip, or dusky pink with a trio of roses.’

  Tatiana unrolled the lace fabric and placed it over the silk so Violet could see how it would look.

  ‘What divine lace,’ said Imogen, stroking the fabric.

  Katya pointed to the next drawing. ‘This dress has a rose-pink underdress with sheer silk chiffon over the top in mossy green. It’s finished with embroidery and satin ribbon detailing in matching rose and green.’

  Tatiana displayed the two layers of fabric, while Katya showed a close-up sketch of the embroidery design.

  ‘And the last one is a sheer blue-and-white patterned fabric with a wide, white collar,’ Katya continued, showing the final dress sketch. ‘Not quite as dressy as the other two, but the fabric drapes beautifully.’

  Anastacia held the sheer fabric up against her to show how it swished when she moved.

  ‘All the afternoon dresses would be worn with a long string of beads or pearls and a wide-brimmed white straw hat, changing the colour of the band to suit,’ said Tatiana.

  ‘All three of them are perfect,’ Violet said, slipping the sheer silk through her fingers. ‘I don’t think I could choose between them.’

  Katya smiled widely. ‘I’m so pleased you like them. It’s always a bit daunting showing the designs the first time.’ She dramatically spread out another fan of drawings. ‘And now for the evening gowns. These dresses are made for jazzing.’

  Violet leaned forward to view the three drawings. These dresses were sleeveless with square necks and fell to mid-calf. They were worn with long, elbow-length satin gloves and beaded headbands. One dress was midnight blue, one was sage green and another was blush pink.

  ‘It’s a little difficult to see the beading on the drawing, so Tatiana and I took the liberty of making one to show you,’ Katya said. ‘Don’t worry, if you don’t like it, we can sell it to Madame Collette.’

  Tatiana fetched a long, straight dress on a coat hanger. The green silk georgette was embroidered with silver beads, which glittered in the sunlight.

  ‘It’s absolutely heavenly,’ Violet said.

  ‘Would you like to try it on?’ Anastacia asked. ‘You can get changed in our bedroom.’

  ‘I can help you,’ Imogen offered, and the two girls left the room.

  Imogen helped her sister do up the tiny buttons at the back of the bodice, and Violet came out and twirled in the middle of the living room. Anastacia held up a long mirror so she could see her reflection. The silk georgette floated out as she pirouetted.

  ‘You look simply gorgeous,’ Imogen said.

  ‘It’s not quite finished,’ Katya explained, tweaking the dress. ‘I need to take it in a little here, and the embroidery is not done on the back, but it gives you the idea.’

  ‘We thought that if you like it, we can try to finish it so that you can wear it to the Russian Club on Monday night.’

  ‘Oh yes, please,’ Violet replied. ‘You’ll come with us to the Russian Club, won’t you, Immy? Dad wouldn’t let me go otherwise.’

  ‘It sounds like fun, especially with a new gown to wear. Could you make one for me too?’ asked Imogen.

  Katya shook her head reluctantly. ‘I’m sorry, Miss Hamilton, but it will be difficult enough to get this one finished in time for Miss Violet. But we could make you both gowns for your Russian Ball – we still have a few weeks before that.’

  ‘I would adore that, thanks. But how on earth to choose!’ said Imogen.

  Tatiana and Katya exchanged glances.

  ‘Speaking of the Russian Ball, there is one more design to show you,’ Katya said, pulling out the last page. ‘We decided our Mademoiselle Perrot label would feature peacocks. Peacocks symbolise beauty, confidence and nobility – all the things we want our label to represent. And so we created this for you ….’

  The drawing showed an ankle-length gown in a pale seafoam-green, with a square neckline, a draped sash at the low waist and shoestring straps worn with long, cream satin gloves. The bodice of the dress was straight and long, encrusted with turquoise, emerald green and jet beads to create the effect of peacock feathers.

  ‘Oh,’ said Violet. ‘A peacock gown. It’s amazing …’

  ‘It certainly is,’ Imogen agreed, frowning. ‘But it looks rather expensive. We promised we wouldn’t send Dad bankrupt!’

  Katya beamed. ‘Miss Violet Hamilton will be the first customer of Mademoiselle Perrot, and she will look so stunning that all her friends will demand to know where she had her dress made. We’ll be famous!’

  The three sisters exchanged glances.

  ‘We are determined to make our business work,’ Anastacia confided. ‘We have to make a new life for ourselves here in Australia, and our own couture label makes the best of our combined talents. If it takes off, then we can help Nikolai to –’

  Tatiana picked up a list from the table and presented it to Violet, cutting Anastacia short.

  ‘I’ve made a list with the cost of each dress,’ Tatiana explained. ‘And if you order a number of dresses, we’ll give you a discounted price – especially if Miss Hamilton orders a ball gown as well.’

  Violet and Imogen scanned the list together. The prices were indeed very reasonable, so Imogen suggested that she order four dresses, plus the peacock ball gown, with the bill to be sent to Mr Hamilton. Violet dithered over the drawings.

  ‘It’s impossible to decide,’ she insisted.

  ‘Make a decision or I’ll do it for you,’ Imogen threatened. ‘Then I’ll take the very best ones for myself!’

  ‘You wouldn’t dare!’ Violet retorted playfully. ‘All right then – I choose the cream lace and the rose-pink tea gowns, the green georgette evening gown and the … the blue-and-white afternoon dress.’

  Katya gathered the selected sketches into a separate pile. ‘Perfect.’

  ‘And do you think you could make me the midnight-blue gown with the jet beads?’ Imogen asked, stroking the soft fabric.

  While Imogen was being measured for her dress, Violet began to doodle on some loose sheets of paper. A maison de couture would need labels, packaging and hatboxes. She drew peacocks, flowers and ferns in delicate swirls. She chose coloured pencils from Katya’s jar on the table and coloured the swirls in muted tones of turquoise, green and lavender. Finally, she scrawled an elaborate label in black ink.

  And so the fashion house of Mademoiselle Perrot was born.

  16

  Sailing

  On the weekend, Theodore Ramsay had invited a small group to go out sailing on his father’s yacht, including the Hamilton sisters, Audrey, Jim Fitzgerald and Tommy O’Byrne. He had clearly chosen the party to please Imogen. Theodore arrived at Riversleigh to pick up the two girls in his red two-seater Bentley sports tourer, its black canvas roof folded down.

  ‘It’ll be a bit of a squash,’ said Theodore. ‘Miss Hamilton, you sit in the middle, and your sister can sit with your bag at her feet on the side.’

  Theodore drove fast, hitting the horn impatiently and overtaking other vehicles that slowed him down. Violet had to hold on to her hat to stop it escaping its hatpins. Theodore pulled up next to the St Kilda Yacht Club and parked carelessly on an angle.

  ‘I say, I didn’t scare you, did I?’ Theodore asked as he came around to open Violet’s door.

  Violet felt a thrill of anticipation as she slid out of the car and breathed in the strong scent of saltwater and briny seaweed drifting from the bay. ‘Not at all – it was quite a ride. I think today might be rather an adventure.’

  The girls followed Theodore past the two-storey clubhouse and onto the pier, where majestic wooden yachts of all sizes bobbed and swayed. Halfway along the pier was a sleek timber ketch with two masts. Two crewmen in smart navy-blue uniforms were loading crates onto the yacht and stowing them down below.

  ‘Can’t go sailing without oysters and champagne,’ Theodore joked. ‘Welcome aboard the Mariette.’

  He took Imogen’s hand to solicitously help her across the gangway and on boa
rd. Violet decided not to wait for Theodore’s help and leaped across the gap between pier and boat, landing lightly on her feet. The deck rolled and pitched gently with the waves.

  ‘Take a seat aft,’ Theodore suggested, waving towards the back of the yacht. ‘You ladies will be safely out of the way in the cockpit.’

  Violet gazed around, taking in the neatly coiled ropes, fluttering pennants, glossy varnished woodwork and fresh white paint.

  ‘Thank you, Theodore,’ Imogen said. ‘She’s definitely a beauty.’

  ‘Then she’s a fit setting for such delightful company,’ flattered Theodore.

  Violet caught Imogen’s gaze and lifted her eyebrow. Imogen stifled a giggle.

  There were two bench seats scattered with red cushions running on either side of the cockpit. Violet and Imogen took a seat, and Audrey, Tommy and Jim joined them.

  White with the odd stripe of navy were the colours of the day, with the three girls wearing white linen dresses, white stockings, wide-brimmed hats and low-heeled shoes. The men wore white shirts and flannel trousers, straw boaters and blue blazers. Theodore had a debonair cravat knotted at his throat, and his hair was slicked back.

  One of the crew members presented himself and saluted to Theodore. ‘All set, Cap’n.’

  ‘Fine. Fire the engine and cast off,’ Theodore ordered.

  ‘Aye, aye, Cap’n,’ the crew replied, running to do his bidding.

  The engine rumbled to life and Theodore stood at the timber steering wheel, reversing the ketch out into the vast indigo bay. Sunlight danced on the lapping water. Seagulls swooped and shrieked over the beach. A flock of ungainly pelicans flew in formation, descending to land with unlikely grace on the bay. Violet sighed with pleasure.

  The crew hauled on ropes, hoisted sails and tightened trim. In moments, the ketch was flying across the water, heeling to starboard. As their speed picked up, the wind ruffled Violet’s hair, loosening it from its bobby pins. She closed her eyes and turned her face to the sun and the wind, listening to the slap of water on the hull and the whoosh of wind over the white sails.