From Governess to Countess (Matches Made in Scandal)

by Marguerite Kaye

  The stone bench she favoured while watching the children play was cold, but Allison, huddling her cloak around her, did not notice as she sat down, closing her eyes as her mind drifted back to last night.

  Last night had been—she didn’t think there was a single word that encapsulated it. Exciting. Passionate. Wildly, ecstatically satisfying. She had never imagined that lovemaking could be so utterly enthralling, so all-consuming. And so liberating. She had forgotten herself last night, entranced by Aleksei’s touch, by the strength of his reaction to her. She had forgotten who she was and had discovered some other, sensual, powerful being, who cared not where she ended and where Aleksei began. As if their borders had become blurred. As if they had somehow been transformed into...

  Allison sat up abruptly, opening her eyes. What nonsense was this! Certainly no way to be thinking about a man who was destined to become part of her past in the not-too-distant future. Independence was what she had come here to achieve, freedom to be herself, to make her own life. She had not come here to entangle herself in someone else’s life, to think herself only half a person without him.

  She frowned at this notion. Since coming to St Petersburg, she had not only regained her shattered confidence, she had become ever more sure of herself. Increasingly certain, in fact, that she would and could make a new, better life for herself, and she didn’t need Aleksei for that. So it was this other creature then, who craved him?

  She rolled her eyes. This fanciful piece of imagining was not at all like her. But last night—oh, last night had been so very different from anything...

  Which brought her back full circle, just as the object of her thoughts appeared, making his way towards her at a run. ‘You will never believe this,’ he said, waving a letter at her. ‘Look what Catiche has just shown me.’

  * * *

  The next day, Allison paced the floor of the chamber she now knew as the Square Room, awaiting Aleksei’s return. What was keeping him?

  She considered making herself a cup of tea but, daunted by the complicated process, she instead pulled the letter from her pocket and scanned the contents one more time. With every reading—and this was at least the seventh—she became more convinced that she was not looking at the words of a murderer. Anna Orlova’s script was elegant, flowing across the page in impeccably straight lines. The hand of an educated woman. A well-born woman, who wrote in grammatically perfect English. A woman whose care and love for the recipient shone through in every gentle reminder to Catiche to tend to her lessons, in every entreaty that she look after her little brother and sister.

  Very soon you will be attending your first children’s ball, little one. Have you chosen the fabric for your gown? Gold, the colour of your hair, or blue the colour of your eyes would suit you best. I hope that my replacement will guide you wisely.

  You will have a dancing master, I expect. I wish that I could be with you to practise your steps.

  Catiche had however, in her own inimitably contrary fashion, insisted on a pink gown. She had been a very unwilling pupil for the dancing master too, though Allison had put this down to a natural reluctance to attend the event after the tragic turn in her fortunes. Or perhaps she simply didn’t want to attend with Allison.

  Though the question of the upcoming ball was hardly the most important point of the letter she was holding. Catiche had sought Aleksei out, so excited had she been to finally receive word from her beloved governess, the missive having been delivered by some unknown intermediary to Nyanya.

  ‘May I write back, as Madame Orlova requests, Uncle Aleksei,’ she had asked, utterly unaware of the potentially life-changing nature of the letter she held. It was to Aleksei’s credit, Allison thought, that he had refrained from snatching it from her. Instead, containing his excitement, he calmly informed Catiche that he was honoured she’d consulted him, and that he wished to do justice to her request by reading the letter carefully. He promised her an answer on his return from urgent business.

  Which he had not returned from. Where on earth was he? Allison was consulting one of the three clocks in the Square Room yet again, when the doors were thrown open, and Aleksei appeared, a petite, cloaked figure in his wake.

  ‘Ensure we are not disturbed, under any circumstances,’ he commanded the footman, before closing the doors firmly behind him.

  * * *

  The governess, Anna Orlova, looked to be somewhere between thirty-five and forty. She had the kind of gentle countenance, with brown eyes set under a mop of soft brown curls, which would have placated any fractious child, were it not for the fact that her complexion was ashen, and she was, quite clearly, terrified. She wore a white cap over her hair, the kind of everyday cap a woman would wear when she was not expecting visitors. Whatever had delayed Aleksei, it had not been waiting for the erstwhile governess to change into travelling clothes.

  ‘We lost a wheel from the carriage, we had to wait two hours while it was repaired,’ Aleksei said brusquely. ‘Now, Madame Orlova,’ he said, ushering the woman towards a chair, ‘you will oblige me by repeating this improbable tale of yours to Miss Galbraith.’

  Aleksei began to deal efficiently with the samovar, while Madame Orlova stared helplessly at Allison. ‘My apologies, I am somewhat—I was not expecting His Illustrious Highness, though I should have—it was both wrong and ill judged to write to Catiche on impulse as I did, I know that. I promised Her Serene Highness I would not—and I swear, Miss Galbraith on my honour and my life, the letter is the first and only time that I have broken my solemn vow. But His Illustrious Highness has every right to be angry.’

  ‘His Illustrious Highness is not so much angry as still trying to make sense of what you told him,’ Aleksei said, handing Madame Orlova a cup of tea, ‘and Miss Galbraith must be thoroughly confused already. Please start at the beginning,’ he added more gently as he sat down. ‘Recount to us exactly what transpired on the morning of your dismissal.’

  Madame Orlova took a dainty sip of tea. ‘Nikki had been sick in the night, and would not settle, he kept calling over and over for his mama. Nyanya was staying with her sister for a few days, so I took it upon myself to fetch Her Serene Highness. It was very late—or early, I suppose, about three in the morning, so I was astonished to find that she was not in her bedchamber. But at that point my only concern was Nikki, and so I returned to comfort the child.’

  Madame Orlova smiled tenderly. ‘Poor little mite, he had quite worn himself out with crying and was soon asleep. I slept in a truckle bed in his room to keep watch over him. When he woke, his temperature was almost back to normal, so I dressed and went to find Her Serene Highness, to reassure her...’

  Here, Madame Orlova’s voice faltered. Her eyes filled with tears, and she looked quite stricken. ‘I said...’ She cleared her throat. ‘I told Her Serene Highness of how I’d found her chamber empty when I’d come to fetch her in the night, and she...’ What little colour the tea had put back in the governess’s cheeks disappeared. ‘She was like a woman demented. Screaming at me that I lied, calling me such names, using language I would not have imagined she even understood. I thought—even now, after all these months, the memory—I barely recognised her.’

  Allison, quite astonished by this revelation, cast a questioning look at Aleksei, but he shook his head, indicating that she should take the lead, while he removed Madame Orlova’s empty teacup from her clasp, and set about refilling it. ‘What happened next, madame?’ Allison asked.

  ‘She had obviously been crying,’ the governess replied, her voice not much more than a whisper. ‘I noticed it straight away, when I entered her bedchamber. Her eyes were rimmed with red, her hair, her beautiful hair that she was so proud of, it was a tangle. Only I was so concerned to tell her about Nikki, I did not at first ask her what had overset her so—as I should have. We were not close friends, that would not have been appropriate, for Her Serene Highness was a duchess, and I—but we shared, as you do, spending so much time together with the children, little conf
idences, small jokes. I thought she trusted me.’

  A sob was quickly stifled. Madame Orlova’s hands were shaking when she accepted her second cup of tea, and she drank it, as was Aleksei’s custom, in one draught.

  ‘You are still much affected by the events of that day,’ Allison said, trying to disguise her impatience, for she had no idea, as yet, where the governess’s story was leading. Save that she was by now certain that Madame Orlova was not a murderess.

  ‘I have missed the children terribly.’

  ‘And they you, madame.’

  ‘How are they? I have been so worried about les pauvres petites. Such a terrible tragedy they have had to cope with.’

  ‘Indeed,’ Aleksei interjected as her mouth trembled on the brink of another sob. ‘But you will be able see for yourself that they are well, that Miss Galbraith has been taking excellent care of them, just as soon as you have finished your tale.’

  ‘Oh!’ The governess’s face lit up. ‘Oh, Your Illustrious Highness, I cannot thank you enough.’

  ‘I do not want thanks, madame, I wish you to tell Miss Galbraith what you have already told me, as concisely as possible.’

  ‘Yes. Of course, Your Illustrious Highness.’ The governess obediently set down her cup and sat up straight. ‘I asked Her Serene Highness if I could help her. Whatever had kept her from her chamber last night had obviously overset her, I said, and it was that I think, the mention of her absence, which sent her over the edge. She screamed at me that no one on earth could help her and that I was to leave. I was so shocked. I tried to reason with her, but Her Serene Highness seemed quite beyond reason. She insisted that I leave the palace at once and never return. I was not to communicate ever again with anyone from the Derevenko family, nor with any of the palace servants. I was never to mention her absence from the palace the night before or the conversation we were having to a living soul. She said—she said that if I did there would be most dire consequences for both myself and my family. I had no option but to give her my word, and I kept it, Your Illustrious Highness, but Her Serene Highness has been dead some months, and I have been so worried about the children, so I very foolishly and impetuously wrote to Nyanya enclosing the note for Catiche. When you arrived at my cottage, I assumed that you...’

  ‘That I was the bearer of the dire consequences Duchess Elizaveta had promised?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Aleksei frowned. ‘You clearly know that both the Duke and Duchess were dead within a few days of your leaving the palace?’

  ‘Of course. It was in all the newspapers. A terrible, terrible tragedy.’

  ‘But still you did not break your promise? Despite being, as you have just admitted, very concerned for your former charges?’

  ‘You can have no idea how concerned, Your Illustrious Highness, but the reach of the Derevenko family is long. I could not know what measures Her Serene Highness had taken to ensure my ongoing silence. I could not risk any harm befalling my family.’

  Aleksei stared at the governess, making no attempt to disguise his scepticism. ‘You honestly believed that the Duchess Elizaveta would do—what?’

  ‘I chose not to imagine,’ Madame Orlova answered with a shudder. ‘Forgive me, Your Illustrious Highness, but you were not present that morning. Her Serene Highness was quite demented, clearly at her wits’ end. Her desperation was obvious. I took her threats very seriously indeed.’

  ‘What can have transpired for her to be at her wits’ end, as you put it?’ Allison asked.

  ‘I would not wish to speculate, Miss Galbraith, but I will say this. Their Serene Highnesses were very, very proud of the Derevenko family’s spotless reputation. At court, the Duke and Duchess were uniquely famed for their honesty and fidelity, and above all, for being above any sort of scandal. I believed that morning, and am of the same opinion now, that Her Serene Highness would do almost anything to protect that reputation.’

  * * *

  Aleksei paced the Square Room, his mind seething as he awaited Allison’s return from the schoolroom, where she was temporarily reuniting the children with their very grateful and relieved governess. The Orlova woman was not a murderer. Her convoluted tale was so unbelievable it could only be true. But the implications...

  His hands formed into tight fists. The implications were quite literally unthinkable.

  One of the double doors opened just enough for Allison to slip through. She crossed the room to join him and he clasped her hands gratefully.

  ‘The children were delighted to see Anna,’ Allison said. ‘Catiche was eager to thank you in person, but I told her later, tomorrow. I thought—how are you, Aleksei?’

  From the way she looked at him, a mixture of sympathy and trepidation, it was obvious she had drawn the same conclusions as he. ‘Never mind how I feel,’ he said roughly, pulling himself free from the comfort of her touch. ‘What do you make of the governess’s tall tale?’

  Allison was trying to decide whether or not to pull her punches. He could read her as easily as a book, and knew, from the downward quirk of her mouth, the slight slump of her shoulders, exactly when she had reached her decision. ‘I don’t think it was a tale, but the absolute truth.’

  She sat down on one of the chaises longue, patting the space beside her encouragingly. Aleksei surrendered to the temptation. It was not that he needed comforting, simply that he wanted to be by her side, and why not, dammit! ‘For the record,’ he said, ‘I believe she spoke the truth too. But you haven’t answered my question.’

  ‘No.’ Allison angled herself on the sofa to face him and, pulling a pin from her hair, set about teasing it into a circle. ‘Though there are still some questions which remain unanswered, I think we can conclude from what Madame Orlova told us, that—that this was a domestic matter, a crime of passion.’

  ‘By which you mean that either my brother or his wife is a murderer,’ Aleksei said brutally.

  Allison dropped her hairpin. There were tears glittering in her eyes when she lifted her head. ‘I’m so sorry, I wish it were otherwise.’

  There he had it, the confirmation he needed and so desperately didn’t want. The confirmation that his instincts had been right all along. How he wished, how he desperately wished he’d left well alone. But it was too late now. Best to lance the boil quickly and efficiently. ‘Do you think it was Michael?’

  Allison’s hand hovered over his, but she decided—quite rightly—not to touch him. ‘Before we leap to any conclusions,’ she said gently, ‘I think we need to review the few facts we can be certain of.’

  Aleksei crossed his arms over his chest. ‘Go on, then.’

  She did not flinch from his gaze. She would not, he thought with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, tell him what he wanted to hear but what he needed to know. He could trust her to tell him what she really thought.

  ‘For a start,’ she began, ‘I think, as Anna Orlova clearly does, that Elizaveta must have been having an affaire.’

  Exactly as he had concluded, but hearing the words aloud made it so much worse. ‘I find it utterly unbelievable that Elizaveta would cuckold Michael!’ Aleksei exclaimed. ‘The only faithful married couple in St Petersburg, someone told me the other day.’

  ‘But it is the only logical conclusion, Aleksei. I’m sorry to say.’

  ‘You’re right. I know you’re right. But if this got out, if it were known that Elizaveta—by the stars, Elizaveta!’ Aleksei shook his head. ‘The sacred Derevenko name would trailed through the mud, the family’s peerless reputation besmirched. It doesn’t bear contemplating.’ Which was exactly what Michael would have thought. And indeed Elizaveta. Which would lead one to conclude...

  ‘What else?’ he asked. ‘Before I torture myself with speculation, what are these other facts that you think we can be certain of?’

  ‘We know we are dealing with two suspicious deaths and not one. Possibly one murder and one suicide?’

  ‘Then it cannot have been Michael,’ Aleksei said with utter cer
tainty. ‘Knowing the kind of man he was, I cannot believe he would deliberately deprive his children of both their parents.’ Was it wrong of him to hope that she was right, to condemn his sister-in-law to clear his brother? But with a sick feeling, he perceived the flaw in this logic. ‘Though the same must be said of Elizaveta. She too was a loving parent. I think we must rule out suicide. Which brings us back to a double murder. Someone else must have been involved.’

  Allison furrowed her brow. ‘Perhaps. Though it is possible—I’ve been thinking, Aleksei, about the poison. It is possible that the second death was an accident. If the perpetrator cut the root with a knife, and perhaps cut his or her hand in the process, the wound could have become contaminated with poison. Or even if some trace of the root was left on the fingers which were then licked—you see, a low dosage, taken by accident—that would have done it.’

  ‘A murder and an accident?’ Aleksei nodded slowly. ‘That sounds much more plausible.’

  ‘Yes, but there is one other aspect of the poison which we have not taken account of,’ she added, in a tone that sounded horribly ominous. ‘To administer poison, one must first obtain it, Aleksei. Wolf’s Bane grows in quantity at the Apothecary’s Garden, I saw it myself on my second visit. One plant would not be missed.’

  It took him a moment to realise what she was implying. ‘The murder could not have been committed on impulse or in a fit of rage.’

  ‘Only if one had already obtained the means.’

  He could no longer contain himself, jumping to his feet, clutching at his hair and cursing under his breath. ‘I cannot believe that my brother would do such a thing! I simply cannot. If he discovered his wife’s affaire, he would be furious beyond words, and deeply hurt too. I can just about make myself believe that he might lose control and lash out, perhaps throttle her or take a knife to her. But to act in cold blood, to actually plan to kill her—no.’

  ‘Aleksei...’ He flung up his hand to quiet her, but she ignored him. ‘Aleksei,’ Allison said determinedly, ‘I agree.’