From Governess to Countess (Matches Made in Scandal)

by Marguerite Kaye

  Instead, Allison studied Aleksei. ‘She expected to attend this ball with her mama. It is yet another painful reminder that her parents are dead.’

  ‘Yes. I suppose that could be it.’ A Russian peasant dance had begun, involving much twirling and waving of scarves. Taking her arm, Aleksei led Allison away from the crowds to a window embrasure looking out on to the gardens. ‘When Grigory called the other day, he told me that I should stop burying my head in the sand and accept my responsibilities here.’

  ‘And what do you think of that advice?’ she asked, careful to disguise her surprise.

  He shrugged. ‘It’s logical in one sense, though I maintain that I am not best equipped to raise them in the traditional manner.’

  ‘And if things were to change?’

  Aleksei gave an exclamation of disgust. ‘Reform and Russia are anathema to each other. I don’t know. I could—but I’d feel trapped.’ She caught a brief glimpse of his anguish, before he recovered himself. ‘The children’s future is not your problem, Allison.’

  Nor was his future. His future without her. The knowledge she had been hiding from herself pressed at her heart. She could not, would not listen to that persistent, insistent inner voice. ‘I do understand,’ Allison said, trying desperately not to betray her feelings in her voice. ‘I of all people understand your desire to make your life your own. A lifetime of following orders, of doing someone else’s bidding. Why would you leave the army, only to tie yourself to...?’

  A high-pitched scream pierced the air. ‘Miss Galbraith! Miss Galbraith!’

  ‘Catiche!’ Grabbing Allison’s arm, Aleksei forced his way through the crowd. Catiche was standing with a huddle of other girls, ashen-faced but unharmed. ‘Please help her, Miss Galbraith, quickly.’

  A shout went up for a physician, but Allison was already beside the little girl writhing on the floor, her mother sobbing hysterically as she tried to pull the child into her arms.

  ‘Leave her,’ Allison snapped, pushing the woman away unceremoniously, for she could see the girl’s skin turning blue. ‘Lie her on her side. Aleksei, quickly, get me a spoon from the buffet table over there. Madame, has she taken a fit before?’

  ‘A fit! My daughter has never—who are you? Get away from her. What are you doing?’

  Allison took the silver spoon from Aleksei and placed it carefully in the little girl’s mouth.

  ‘Unhand the child, madame,’ a male voice said. ‘You are not qualified.’

  ‘Miss Galbraith knows what she is doing, she is...’

  ‘Whatever she is, or claims to be, she is not a physician. I, on the other hand am. Now get out of my way, please and let me attend to the patient.’

  Allison leapt back as if she had been scalded.

  ‘You are quite mistaken, sir,’ Aleksei exclaimed, ‘she is a...’

  But Allison grabbed his arm, shaking her head violently. ‘Leave it.’

  ‘Merci à Dieu.’ The mother fell on the doctor.

  ‘I thank the stars I arrived in time before any further damage could be inflicted.’ The doctor threw Allison a disdainful look. ‘A cupping is what is required,’ he said, scooping the still-writhing and unconscious child up.

  The spoon clattered to the floor. ‘If you are not careful...’ Allison remonstrated in a shaken voice, neither the doctor nor the mother were listening.

  ‘She might choke on her tongue,’ Allison finished, staring at the little party as they hurried across the room. ‘A cupping will sap what little strength she has. But what do I know.’

  ‘Why did they do that?’ Catiche asked, staring after the doctor and his entourage. ‘Why didn’t they let you help?’

  ‘Because the same rules apply here as in London,’ Allison answered furiously. ‘Because I will always be an outsider. Nothing has changed.’ She turned to Aleksei. ‘Will you go and check on the little girl for me?’

  ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘It’s to your eternal credit that, despite the way you have been treated, your thoughts are for the child. And I’ll call for the carriage. The ball is clearly over.’

  * * *

  Allison was lost in a silent reverie during the carriage ride back, her fists clenching and unclenching in her lap, a myriad of emotions, none of them pleasant, sweeping over her countenance. Aleksei wanted desperately to comfort her. He wanted to vent his anger at the despicable way she had been treated. He wanted to tell her how difficult it had been to resist the temptation to punch that smug physician square on his supercilious nose, or to rail at that snob of a mother, who put status before her daughter’s well-being. He wanted to hold her, to soothe away her anger. But she sat stiffly, staring sightlessly ahead, looking as if one touch would shatter her into a thousand pieces. And besides, Catiche was with them, and so he garnered as much patience as he could muster.

  But the strength of her emotions puzzled him. Unpalatable as they had been, the reaction of the mother and the physician to Allison’s intervention was natural enough. They didn’t know Allison, and Allison had made no attempt to explain herself.

  The same rules apply here as in London.

  I will always be an outsider.

  Nothing has changed.

  She almost never spoke of her past. So much had happened since her arrival that he had forgotten his initial curiosity about her motives. Why was she here? Independence, she said. The fee she had earned would give her that, but he was sure it wasn’t just about the money. Why would a woman, having worked so very hard to succeed in a man’s world, walk away from it all for a temporary posting on the other side of the world?

  As the carriage arrived back at the Derevenko Palace in the dusk, the huge front door flew open, and Elena and Nikki flew out, anxious for news of the ball, thankfully sweeping Catiche away with them. But when Allison, giving him the merest of nods, made to follow them up the grand staircase, Aleksei caught her arm.

  ‘I am tired,’ she said, trying to shake him off. ‘I would prefer to retire alone to my chamber.’

  He could let her go, but it wasn’t only that he didn’t want to. ‘I want to help,’ Aleksei said. ‘Whatever it is, I want to help.’

  She stopped struggling. Her mouth, which had been pursed into a straight line, softened. ‘You already have. Now it’s time for me to help myself.’

  * * *

  He took her to the blue breakfast parlour because it was the nearest room. A footman, caught unprepared, followed them with tapers for the candles, another arrived with spills for the fire, and another, rather miraculously appeared bearing a silver salver of cakes, sherry and madeira.

  The curtains were drawn against the night. The fire crackled obligingly into life. Allison, still huddled in the rose-pink evening cloak which matched her gown, sank on to one of the few comfortable chairs in the palace, a blue wingback affair with only one gold-embroidered cushion. She took the sherry he gave her, but immediately set it down on the table beside the arm of the chair, and began to strip off her long evening gloves.

  ‘You’re still angry,’ Aleksei said, pulling off his own gloves and taking the seat opposite her.

  ‘Furious.’ Her smile was glittering.

  ‘May I ask why?’

  ‘I thought it would be different here, but nothing has changed.’

  ‘And you will always be an outsider. You said so at the ball. What did you mean by that, Allison?’

  She let her head drop back against the chair back, closing her eyes.

  He sipped his sherry. It was, like most of Michael’s cellar save the champagne, of surprisingly poor quality. His brother’s abstemious palate must have been tortuous to his dinner guests. Allison was rubbing her temples. Any minute now, she’d pull out a hairpin. There it was. Now she’d start to fashion it...

  ‘What are you smiling at?’

  Aleksei nodded at the bent pin. ‘You must get through a great deal of those.’

  ‘Fortunately none of them are pearl-or diamond-tipped.’

  He watched her as she made
her customary circle of her hairpin, frowning down at it, clearly wanting time to marshal her thoughts, happy to give her the time, now that she was here with him. She never wore jewellery. Only the locket which her grandmother gave her, and which contained the key to her herb chest. She wore no rings. No bracelets. No other adornments at all. He’d assumed, foolishly, he supposed, that it was because she preferred not to. It hadn’t occurred to him that it might simply be that she didn’t possess anything else. The pink gown she wore had been a gift from Catiche. She had worn one of Elizaveta’s gowns to the Winter Palace only at the dresser’s insistence, she’d admitted to him. Doubtless Elizaveta had countless other unworn gowns Allison could have worn, but she had not chosen to.

  He was so accustomed to his wealth, spent so little of it himself, that he never thought about it. But Allison had not that luxury. ‘Why are you here?’ he asked, losing patience, startling her into dropping her hairpin. ‘I mean why did you come to St Petersburg? Don’t tell me it was for the money, because I know you, Allison, you are not an avaricious person. It is what you intend to do with it that really matters.’

  Her brows shot up in surprise. ‘I am still not exactly sure what it is I’m going to do, though today—yes, today has certainly decided what it is I won’t be doing.’ She reached for her sherry, took a sip, wrinkled her nose and put it back. ‘A salutary lesson, that is what today was. I intend to learn from it.’

  ‘And do you intend to share your lesson with me?’ He leaned forward to touch her knee. ‘I would like you to. I’d like to understand. To help you.’

  Her lip trembled. ‘You have. You’ve done so much. I told you, it’s time for me to help myself now.’

  ‘Then tell me how you propose to do that.’

  Allison sat up, unfastened her cloak and reached for the sherry glass, suddenly feeling the need for some fortification. ‘When The Procurer sought me out, I had all but given up. She is the strangest woman, Aleksei. She knew what had happened to me, but she did not offer me sympathy or false hope. What she offered me was a second chance, and what she made me realise is that I deserve it. Only I’ve not known until today what form that might take. I’ve been thinking only that I’d move somewhere else, some other city than London, and start again. But today made me realise that would be simply stepping back into another form of bondage. I know that’s an exaggeration, but—well, you know what I mean, don’t you?’

  ‘You mean I would be doing the same by choosing to quit the army only to dance to my brother’s tune—or the Derevenko family tune?’

  ‘I would not have put it quite so—but, yes, I suppose it is the same thing.’ Allison chewed on her lower lip. ‘If I wish to be successful again, it would once again be on the terms of the society I served. Which requires a spotless reputation, and a care for never overstepping the mark. Displaying due deference to the eminent physicians and apothecaries who must know better than me, not daring to question their practices, and most certainly never challenging them. That’s how it was before, Aleksei. And I thought it was a price worth paying, because I was doing what I loved, I was easing suffering, I was curing sickness.’

  ‘What changed?’

  The familiar nausea assailed her, but she ignored it. ‘Everything. A child died and I allowed myself to take the blame, but I know now that it wasn’t my fault. Mother Nature was determined to claim the child, and nothing I did, or the physician did, would have made any difference.’

  ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘You must have felt the same feeling of helplessness countless times, in battle.’

  He leaned over to take her hand. Her fingers were icy compared to his. She allowed herself the comfort of his touch for a fleeting moment, but then she slipped free from his clasp. ‘I’ve never spoken of it. But I think it’s time. If you care to listen?’

  He nodded. And so she braced herself to speak. She had relived that fateful night on so many occasions, in her dreams and in her waking nightmares, yet she had never once articulated her feelings, never once described events in words. It was dreadful and it was draining and it was difficult, but as she explained the unfolding drama to Aleksei, the little boy’s symptoms, the various remedies she had tried, a certain calm took over.

  ‘I would not allow myself to believe the outcome would be fatal,’ she said. ‘He was not the first patient I had lost, but on previous occasions the cause was clear, I knew the sickness, knew the odds. With this little one, there was no explanation for the fever, no reason that I could determine for my herbal remedies to fail, because they had always worked in similar cases before. I did increase the dose beyond what I would usually administer to such a small child, I did do that, Aleksei, and I did tell his mother that I was doing so. When he did not improve but worsened, I could not believe that it was because of my herbs—but I have to accept that it might have been.’

  She drew a shaky breath. Aleksei said nothing, waiting for her to continue, his blue eyes intently focused on her. ‘In the end, they summoned an eminent physician. Dr Anthony Merchmont.’ She could not repress a shudder. ‘A renowned expert in childhood illnesses. When he first arrived I was at my wits’ end and I was—I was actually relieved to see him. The little boy was dying, and in such pain, I thought—I so foolishly thought—that we would be united in trying to ease his suffering, if not in curing him.’

  Her lip curled as she remembered the way the physician had looked down his nose at her, had commanded her to leave. ‘It was the boy’s mother who insisted I remain. She trusted me—at that point, she still trusted me.’ It was so very painful to recall the woman’s face when she believed that Allison had betrayed her.

  The climax to the tragic tale was quickly told. ‘Dr Merchmont did only what any other physician would have done for a fever. He cupped blood. He applied blisters.’ And the child had screamed and screamed as the heated glass was placed on his back, and she had tried to intervene, because it was obvious by then that the harsh treatment was draining what little strength the child had left. ‘He died in his mother’s arms as dawn was breaking. I have never witnessed such raw grief.’

  There was no blocking this memory. The silence, the stillness of the shock, the utter disbelief. And then the screaming. Allison wrapped her arms around herself. ‘He was five years old, only a year older than Nikki. Two days before, he was in perfect health, and now he was lying there, like a—a wax doll, and his mother could not believe he was gone. I could not believe it myself. I still find it...’ A sob racked her body, and she tightened her grip on herself, motioning Aleksei away. ‘Let me finish. I have not yet described the aftermath.’

  Now anger fizzed again inside her. ‘He—Dr Merchmont—his first reaction was to absolve himself completely of any blame. He was called in too late, he said. By this time his lordship—the child’s father was in the sickroom, so angry, looking for fault—and who can blame him for that, but...’ Allison clenched her fists. ‘There was so much shouting, and all the while the child, the poor little boy was lying there, his mother cradling him in her arms and rocking him, as if he were simply asleep.’

  She paused, took several deep breaths. ‘I don’t know, I can’t recall precisely how—it must have been her, or the maid who disclosed the fact that I had increased the dose of my herbal potion. The poor woman, she did not intend to point the finger at me, but she was hysterical and I—well, it was true, I had increased the dose.’

  Aleksei swore viciously. ‘So this Merchmont fellow seized the opportunity to pin the blame on you, even though it might have been his intervention which hastened the boy’s death?’

  He was incredulous and, Allison now realised, rightly so. ‘It was easy enough to do,’ she said, tight-lipped, ‘and I made it easier for him, for I didn’t defend myself. How could I, when I thought—when it was possible that I had contributed in some way?’

  ‘Allison, you don’t really believe that? Had you ever made such a miscalculation before?’

  The very same question The Procurer ha
d posed. ‘No, I had not, and I am as sure as I can be that what I did was not harmful.’

  ‘Then why didn’t you defend yourself?’

  ‘Because by the time I had recovered from the shock of what had happened, it was far too late.’ She told him then, in clipped tones, of the orchestrated campaign waged against her. Of the slanderous things which had been said of her. The lies. And the defilement of her reputation.

  Aleksei listened, anger and resentment at her treatment burning in his eyes. ‘What did you do?’

  He expected her to have acted. It was flattering. And mortifying. What a poor wee soul she had been. ‘Nothing,’ Allison confessed. ‘And by doing nothing, I tacitly admitted my guilt.’

  Aleksei caught her hands in a painfully tight grip. ‘I am not surprised. You are one of the strongest, bravest, most confident women I have ever met, but even you must have faltered under such an onslaught as you have described.’

  ‘The Procurer said I should have fought back.’

  ‘That is like suggesting that a last soldier standing should continue to fight a futile rearguard action. You retreated. You licked your wounds. You regrouped. And here you are, living to fight another day.’

  She couldn’t help but smile. ‘Thank you, your faith in me is most flattering.’

  ‘It is well founded, not flattering. What happened to you would have destroyed most other people—men as well as women. The incident this afternoon at the ball, it must have brought it all back.’

  ‘Yes, but it also made me think about the future. In society, whether it is in London or St Petersburg, I will always be an outsider because my sex prevents me from becoming part of the medical establishment, even if I desired it, which I don’t. It shouldn’t matter that I am a woman, and one moreover whose appearance gives the illusion that I’m free with my favours, but it does. So I’m not going to practise in society any more, and it’s thanks to you, in part that I’ve realised I don’t want to.’

  ‘What on earth have I done to help you come to such a conclusion?’