Love and Splendor: The Coltrane Saga, Book 5

by Patricia Hagan

  When Dani and Colt arrived in the resort town of Chantilly, twenty-five miles outside Paris, they were instantly impressed by the sight of the massively elegant château where their parents were staying during their holiday. Perched high on a hill rising out of a lake, it was surrounded by beautiful gardens and a deep, mysterious forest, giving the impression of an enchanted palace found only in fairy tales.

  The château, Dani was later informed by Kitty, had been the Renaissance country home of the noble and illustrious Condé family, and when the last descendant, the Duc d’Aumale, built an additional building to house his immense collection of paintings, it turned out to be even larger than the original dwelling.

  They had arrived unannounced, and Kitty and Travis somehow felt the surprise visit had nothing to do with the situation concerning Dani’s indiscretion with Drakar, or their disapproval of Colt’s engagement to Lily.

  Later, during dinner, they learned their suspicions were justified.

  Colt announced he’d broken his engagement to Lily, without explaining why, and that he and Dani were going on a holiday to Russia and had no idea how long they would be away.

  Dani enthusiastically described plans to stop in Denmark on a buying jaunt for her shop.

  The elder Coltranes exchanged glances, eyebrows raised, intuitively acknowledging there was another reason for the trip that was not being divulged.

  Early the next morning, Travis invited Dani to go with him to view the famed racing stables of Chantilly, knowing she would enjoy seeing the magnificent eighteenth-century stone structure, with stalls for two hundred and fifty horses and four hundred hounds, along with rooms for huntsmen and grooms.

  He also wanted an opportunity for the two of them to be alone together.

  Dani was properly impressed with the surroundings, said it seemed more like a palace than a stable.

  Travis, comfortably attired in a riding habit of red velvet coat and white satin pants, chewed on a cheroot as he reminded her that Chantilly had been a racing center for a long time, but added it wasn’t exactly his idea of a place for a holiday. With a wry grin, he added, “You can guess there’s some art involved.”

  Dani laughed. “I’ve heard. The Duc d’Aumale left his magnificent collection to France on the condition that the paintings never be removed from Chantilly or lent for any exhibition. I imagine Kitty is in heaven living with the fifteenth- and sixteenth-century drawings.”

  Suddenly, he got to the point. “Why are you and Colt going to Russia?”

  She blanched, floundered for an explanation he would believe. “I told you—”

  “You told me what you wanted me to know,” he contradicted. “I want the real reason.”

  A slow smile touched her lips. “I guess I can’t fool you, can I?”

  “No.” Gray eyes twinkled with just a hint of amusement, for he was quite serious. “Tell me everything.”

  And she did, from start to finish, including her innermost feelings about Drake, and how humiliated she felt.

  Finally, when her heart was emptied, she stood before him to touch trembling fingertips to his cheek. “Poppa, I’m truly sorry I hurt you with all of this. I know how I shamed you, but I have to make my own decisions, my own way in the world. Can you understand?”

  Travis wrapped his arms around her, pressed her close against his chest. How he loved this beautiful young woman, so like her mother who’d died in his arms. She was his daughter, flesh of his flesh, a part of his heart, and he never wanted to cause her a moment of pain. “Yes, honey, I do understand,” he whispered huskily. “You’re that much like me, aren’t you? You’ve got to go where life takes you and heaven help anyone who gets in your way.”

  Dani gazed up at him, eyes misted by tears of adoration. “I love you, Poppa,” she whispered tremulously.

  Travis felt the moisture of the ages in his own vision as he responded tenderly, “I love you, too, Dani…”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Dani found the sea voyage fascinating, exciting and fun. Along with Cyril, she and Colt had been among those fortunate to book first-class passage on a special sailing of the luxurious White Star Britannic. Not only was the food, wine, and service superb, their cabins were large and lavishly furnished, containing private bathrooms with hot and cold running water. There was even the brilliance of electric lighting derived from four generators. The sea was surprisingly smooth; no one experienced even a twinge of seasickness and all marveled that they might as well have been staying in first-class hotels. There were many activities on board to while away the days, and all in all, the trip was a joy.

  Dani fell in love with Copenhagen—a metropolis of fine old buildings and beautiful spires rising from the copper roofs of churches.

  The ship was in port in Copenhagen overnight, so there was ample time for Dani to visit the Royal Copenhagen factory where she was delighted to be granted a commission to sell selected pieces of Flora Danica in her shop. There was even a hint that if all went well she might even be able to acquire an entire set in the future.

  Delighted with her success, Dani took Colt and Cyril sightseeing during their remaining time in port. They visited the Amalienborg Palace Square to view the Royal Guardsmen on duty for the Royal House of Glucksborg, with their striking tall bearskin caps. Then they strolled along the lovely promenade “Langelinie” and along the sound to gaze at the beautiful Renaissance palace of Rosenborg, with its beautiful flower beds, majestic trees, and pleasant walks lined with sculpture.

  They enjoyed a lunch of Danish smørrebrød—open-faced sandwiches of buttered bread topped with a variety of garnishes, such as sliced ham, roast beef, or cheese. For dinner, they opted not to eat onboard the ship but instead sampled the seafood in a restaurant in the Tivoli Gardens, then spent the evening at the Royal Theater enjoying a performance of the Royal Danish Ballet.

  When, at last, it was time for the Britannic to steam from the Nyhavn waterfront, Dani stood at the ship’s railing and made a silent promise to return one day to experience more of the lovely charm of the wonderful country of Denmark.

  Upon their arrival in Saint Petersburg, thanks to Travis having sent messages to influential acquaintances advising that his daughter and son were arriving for a visit and requesting that any courtesies granted them be considered a personal favor, Dani and Colt found themselves in a social whirl from the moment they came down the gangplank of their ship. They were also not neglected by Cyril, who was being extremely polite despite his disappointment over Colt’s presence which had, of course, thwarted plans for seducing Dani.

  Dani marveled at Saint Petersburg, capital of the Russian empire. She was fascinated at the way the city was built on water, spreading across nineteen islands, which were chained by arching bridges and laced by winding canals.

  Carefully planned under the personal direction of Peter I, the city named for him was molded of huge baroque palaces in red and yellow, blue and white, or pale green. All buildings were painted, no matter how small, and were plastered and ornamented in colors and styles of the south.

  Dani loved being there for the winter season when arctic latitudes played tricks with time and light. Nights began early in the afternoon, lasting till the middle of the next morning. Whirling snowstorms and icy winds swept across the flat plain surrounding the city to lash windows and walls of the Renaissance palaces, freezing solid the Neva River, she had been told, from mid-November to April.

  Yet, despite the gloomy monotony of winter gray, there were days when the sky would glow silver blue and turn the snowy world to one of sparkling crystal. Dani then would blink against the dazzling glare of the sun.

  Despite the mystical, magical beauty of winter, it was said that the loveliest time in Russia was May through June, the time of the poets’ paradise called “White Nights”, when only about forty minutes of semidarkness occurred within a twenty-four-hour period. By eleven in the evening, the day would fade to a milky haze of pearl and silver, mysteriously veiling the land
scape in iridescence.

  Dani learned that in addition to the charm and gloss, Saint Petersburg was considered to be the center of Russian life, with great opera, ballet, symphonies, and chamber orchestras playing the music of Tchaikovsky, Glinka, and Mussorgsky.

  The official language was French, not Russian, and the best furniture and clothing came from Paris.

  It was truly an exciting world of glitter and glamour. Dani had lost count of the receptions she attended where officers in blazing decorations on their brilliant uniforms escorted elegant ladies in billowing satin dresses of every color in the rainbow. She had sipped champagne in ornate high-ceilinged drawing rooms, nibbling cold sturgeon and caviar.

  Kitty had written to an influential patron of the arts she had met in Paris to make sure Dani was invited to the Bal Blanc, a dance where young, unmarried girls in virginal white dresses danced quadrilles with young, unmarried officers while being watched by cold-eyed chaperones.

  Cyril had them invited to the Bals Roses to witness the flashing jewels and blue and green and scarlet uniforms as young marrieds swirled to waltzes and gypsy music.

  It was a world where ladies donned their diamonds in the morning, attended a church service, entertained for lunch, walked in the crisp, cold winter air in the early afternoon, then spent the remainder of the day preparing for yet another magnificent ball in the evening.

  Yes, in a short period of time, Dani had sampled a large part of the excitement and glamour offered by Saint Petersburg…but was all too aware that something had eluded her.

  She had not encountered Drake.

  And how could she even look for him without appearing obvious?

  She had thought he would be among the glitter and excitement, then reminded herself he had been banned from the Imperial Court…which meant, of course, that others in high society systematically deleted his name from their invitation lists, as well.

  So, if he were in Russia, where was he?

  This worry plagued her endlessly, her misery intensified by the inability to share her anxiety with anyone.

  Again, due to the esteem of having such an internationally revered father, Dani and Colt were provided with residence in the French Embassy, located on the banks of the Dvortsvotsky Most, with a view of the Neva River and situated only two blocks from the Winter Palace of the Czar.

  Though small and modest, their rooms were quite comfortable. Colt had a place to the rear of the first floor, with an outside entrance so he could come and go at will, while Dani was more protected, as intended, in a small suite on the second floor with a balcony overlooking the Neva in one direction, the Moika River visible the other way.

  Dani loved to stand on the balcony and look toward the Winter Palace, truly a sight to behold. The grandiose edifice was in the baroque style, easily the largest and most splendid building in Saint Petersburg. Each of the palace’s four façades had a character of its own. The eastern had a canopy on pylons, its projecting wings forming the main courtyard which opened into the city toward the shipyard, called the Admiralty. The western, ornate with baroque cupids’ heads, lions’ faces, and scrolls, looked to the Summer Palace in the distance. The northern, facing the Neva, was quieter in style but had a double tier of white columns to impressively effect light and shade. The southern, and main, façade had three arched entrances with Corinthian columns of pure white Italian marble. On the roof were over one hundred and seventy-six sculptural figures interspersed with vases.

  Dani had a special reason for standing on her balcony this particular evening, trembling with excitement. In a few hours she would actually enter that majestic place. She and Colt had been invited to a ball given by the Czar himself, Alexander III.

  When she had told Cyril of the invitation, he had insisted that she take him along as her escort. “Despite my business and social connections,” he bitterly, admitted, “I’ve never been to a royal ball, and after all the invitations I’ve gotten for you, it’s the least you can do for me.”

  Darn was grateful for his kindness and regretted having to say no to him. “The invitation plainly states Colt and I are invited together, just the two of us. I’m truly sorry, Cyril.”

  He had become quite indignant. “Well, I don’t understand how you managed to get such an invitation. It’s probably a mistake. Your father probably doesn’t even know the Czar,” he added testily.

  Now, tonight, Dani was too excited to worry over Cyril’s hurt pride.

  When the invitation had arrived, personally delivered by a bearded Cossack soldier in scarlet tunic, black fur cap, boots, and shining saber at his side, Dani knew she had to have a very special gown for the occasion. She had gone to Saint Petersburg’s reigning fashion dictator, Madame Kerensky, the couturière who designed for the wife of the Czar, the Empress Marie Feodorovna.

  The dress subsequently created especially for her was of cream silk, embroidered in blue and silver. Then she had spent a large sum on a blue velvet ribbon adorned with diamonds and pearls, which she had entwined in her reddish-brown hair.

  Colt had procured a carriage for the evening, and from three blocks away, they could see the pleasure dome flooded by light. When they arrived at the grand entrance, Dani handed her newly purchased white ermine cape to an attendant, and they then ascended the wide white marble staircases; which were covered with thick carpets of gold and red velvet.

  They found themselves amid great columns of malachite and marble and jasper supporting high gilded ceilings, from which hung immense gold-and-crystal chandeliers that dripped with diamond-cut prisms.

  Along the walls were baskets of orchids and palm trees in large pots framing huge gilded mirrors.

  At intervals along the corridors were stationed troopers of the Chevaliers Gardes, wearing white uniforms with silver breastplates and silver eagle-crested helmets. There were also Cossack Life Guards standing at attention in scarlet tunics.

  Dani and Colt whispered together in speculation that there were probably three thousand guests in attendance. Diamonds and rubies and emeralds glittered in the sparkling lights of the chandeliers. The rooms were awash with a sea of colors of every shade. There were officers everywhere—generals wearing medals from the Turkish wars, young Hussars in full dress with tight elk-skin breeches. Then there were the austere court officials, dressed in severe black and gold-laced uniforms.

  At precisely eight thirty, an expectant hush fell on the room as people stepped back to allow a man carrying an ebony staff, embossed in gold with the double-headed eagle of the Czar, to walk to the center of the grand ballroom. He then tapped the staff three times on the marble floor.

  Colt leaned to whisper in Dani’s ear, “Makes me wish I was back on the ranch instead of being at a circus.”

  She held a finger to her lips. “Shhh. That’s the Grand Master of Ceremonies. The ball is officially starting.”

  Suddenly great mahogany doors inlaid with gold swung open, and the Grand Master boomed, “Their Imperial Majesties.”

  Dresses rustled as ladies sank into a deep curtsy, Dani included.

  Then Czar Alexander III appeared, bearded and tall. Next to him was his dark-eyed Danish wife, the Empress Marie.

  At once, the orchestra began to play a polonaise, and the festivities began.

  Dani was besieged by the unmarried Hussar officers, some of whom remembered her from the Bal Blanc. Happily, she enjoyed quadrilles, chaconnes, mazurkas, and waltzes. Then, suddenly, when she was resting between sets with Colt, her breath caught as she realized the Czar himself was by her side. At six feet four inches tall, he was like a great Russian bear.

  He reached for her hand, raising her fingertips to his lips, smiled, and spoke in flawless French. “I was told that when I found the most beautiful woman at my ball, I would find Mademoiselle Coltrane. Welcome to Russia and Saint Petersburg. I trust you are enjoying your visit.”

  Poised and self-confident, Dani did not become flustered before such an important personage. She gave an obligatory curtsy,
however slight, before responding. “Quite enjoyable, sire. Thank you for inviting us to the Imperial Ball.” She yielded to Colt, who bowed before the Czar.

  Czar Alexander addressed himself once more to Dani. “It was my pleasure to invite you and your brother, mademoiselle. I hold your father in high regard and wish that his children will have a nice visit to my country.”

  Dani was aware that all eyes were upon them as they chatted. Empress Marie was nowhere to be seen, and she wished she could have met her as well.

  “Tell me, my dear, is there anything in Russia you would like that has not been made available to you?”

  Having vowed to never allow an opportunity to pass her by, Dani quickly said, “I would love to attend the Imperial Ballet.”

  Colt rolled his eyes, wondering how his sister could be so gauche. Didn’t she realize the man was just being polite, for God’s sake, and certainly had more to do with his time than worry about her social life?

  Czar Alexander snapped his fingers, and immediately one of his aides stepped to his side. “The Imperial Ballet it shall be. Tomorrow night at our beautiful gold-and-blue Maryinsky Theater. Does that make you happy?” he asked jovially.

  Dani curtsied once more. “You’re very kind.”

  “If you and your brother would care to join us afterward, the Empress and I are entertaining some friends here at a midnight supper.”

  Dani did not ask Colt’s opinion; it did not matter. “We’d love to, and thank you for inviting us.”

  He moved away then, and Colt could not help smiling at her happiness. “I guess this is the highlight of your trip.”

  The sparkle of joy was replaced by one of bitter remembrance. “No. The highlight will be when I get my painting back. Did you know that Drakar was once close friends with the Czar’s son, Nicholas?”

  He shook his head, took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter.