‘No! If you should be discovered not even the Grand Duchess would dare to dismiss the Empress’s own embroiderer! But that won’t happen!’
Still amused, she shook her head, believing he was flirting with empty promises. ‘I have no wish to become a laughing stock in a ballroom or anywhere else. Sewing for the Grand Duchess is a pleasure and I’ll not risk losing that privilege for anyone.’ Tilting her head, she matched his flirtatiousness. ‘Is that quite understood?’
His grinned. ‘Of course, but not accepted. Meet me by the side entrance to the ballroom at nine o’clock. I’ll bring a mask for you. Then tomorrow morning you shall have your first riding lesson.’ He remounted and looked down at her again. ‘Why are you shaking your head?’
She laughed. ‘Because I’ll not be there.’
He grinned still wider. ‘I can’t believe that you would disappoint me. So until later!’ He saluted her with his whip and rode off, increasing his pace to a gallop, intending to catch up with the rest of the riding party.
Marguerite watched him go, a smile on her lips. She yearned to go dancing again. Often in cellar cafes she and Jan, holding hands, had whirled with other dancers as they had joined in Russian country dances. She knew from what she had heard that Catherine, being young and so lively, had such dances included in the programme of her Oranienbaum balls, which was not possible anywhere else when the Empress was present.
Although she would not have gone anywhere near that ballroom entrance the matter was settled for her anyway when a note from Konstantin was delivered to her. He had been summoned by the Empress to attend her immediately at the Summer Palace, but added that he hoped to return soon.
After not having seen either the Grand Duchess or Tom in the two weeks since her arrival Marguerite saw them both on the same evening. She had been given directions how to find the Grand Duchess, who had sent for her at last but from the most unlikely place. Catherine would be awaiting her in the upper park, which lay a considerable distance from the Palace.
It was a longish walk and the Palace was left far behind, completely hidden by trees, when Marguerite spotted some of Catherine’s ladies-in-waiting far ahead. They looked like pastel-hued mushrooms as they chatted to pass the time, two of them practising some dancing steps. Then she saw Catherine and Tom standing together where the park rose upwards to a plateau. He was making sweeping gestures, throwing out his arm as he indicated different aspects of it. The vast, seemingly unending, plateau was obviously one of the areas that he had felt unable to change in any way. Even viewing it from afar Marguerite could see the wisdom of his decision, for it was a vista of untended natural beauty in complete contrast to any other part of the great park. She increased her pace, passing the ladies, who paid no attention to her.
Catherine was the first to see her approaching up the slope and beckoned with a graceful hand. ‘Come, Mam’selle Laurent! There’s something I want you to see.’
Tom had turned quickly at her name and his face tightened at the sight of her. As he watched her come up the long slope desire for her swept through him again. Slim and beautiful in her simple clothes, her full breasts enhanced by the narrowness of her waist, she was unaware how the slanting evening sun was burnishing her hair or how her every movement was full of sensuous grace.
Marguerite gave him a slight smile that offered no hint of her innermost feelings.
‘Isn’t this the most beautiful place, Mam’selle Laurent?’ Catherine exclaimed at once. ‘So quiet and peaceful! I feel as if I could stay here for ever! And, as Mr Warrington has shown me, the rarest of wild flowers nestle here in the moss and grass. I want you to collect and press at least one of each, and then you shall embroider them all on a cape that I can keep always!’
Marguerite was taken aback. ‘Is this task to be completed before anything else, Madame? I’ve yet to see the gown I’m to copy.’
‘Oh, that can be sent to one of your seamstresses or to the other atelier. You have this new task now.’ Then Catherine added a cautionary warning with amusement: ‘Incidentally, don’t risk your life on the bridle paths again. Captain Dashiski informed me that he almost knocked down a French seamstress when out riding. Did he alarm you? The Empress has sent for him, but I shall chide him when I see him again if he caused you any harm.’
‘No, Madame,’ Marguerite replied. She was grateful that he had let Catherine know of her presence, which was what mattered. ‘He has exaggerated the incident beyond recognition.’
Catherine laughed merrily. ‘Yes, that is what he would do! He has a glib tongue in his handsome head! But now to the matter in hand.’ She became serious again. ‘Mr Warrington will tell you where to find the flowers that you don’t discover for yourself, because some are so tiny in this northern clime, more to be expected on mountain slopes. You shall come daily until your task is done. Remember I want every one! Then you shall start work on the cape immediately.’
‘Why not embroidered silken shoes to match?’ Marguerite suggested, being as well practised in the art of accessories as she was in original designs for garments. As she had expected, Catherine welcomed the suggestion with enthusiasm.
‘That would be delightful!’ Giving a nod, she swept away with her quick, light step to rejoin her ladies, who had become restless and bored with waiting. As they all set off to the Palace Tom and Marguerite were left facing each other.
‘Thank you for bringing the letter and package from Sarah,’ he said. ‘I found them waiting for me yesterday. I’ve been away from here for a few days.’
‘I left her in good health,’ she said at once, determined to bring the presence of his wife between them, ‘but longing for your return. She misses you very much.’
‘I hope to get home again soon to see her,’ he said, his eyes never leaving her face. It was as if he could never get enough of looking at her. ‘You didn’t come to the house either time when I was there.’
‘It was only right to let you and Sarah be together on your own as much as possible when you are away so much.’
‘That was unnecessarily considerate of you. The house was full of her new acquaintances most of the time.’
She caught the edge to his voice as she moved away from him, looking downwards as she went to see what flowers were there. When she came to a wide cluster of little white star-shaped flowers encircling the base of a tree she stooped to pick one. She laid it on her palm as she straightened up again. ‘What a miracle it is that something as delicate as this bloom can blossom so far north!’
He had followed her to stand by her side. ‘It’s a purely northern flower. I was here in time to see them appear like a white carpet everywhere under the trees. At home in England bluebells come with the same profusion. That is just one of the reasons I want this area to remain undisturbed, except where paths can be laid for the Grand Duchess to follow without getting grass stains on those shoes you are to embroider for her.’
‘So you persuaded the Grand Duchess that a wild flower area should be kept?’
‘She needed little persuasion. At first she was surprised that I was reluctant to lay out a formal garden here, but then she became enthralled by the idea of having a quiet and undisturbed place that could be her private domain.’
‘But for a little while it will be mine too. I shall enjoy the task she’s set me.’
‘You’ll need to cover a wide range to discover all the flowers. With this warmer weather new ones will surely be appearing every day.’
‘Tomorrow I must come properly equipped to deal with this undertaking.’ She had wandered on, wanting to put a little distance between them, and paused to pick another tiny bloom here and there. ‘I don’t want any of the flowers to droop before I get them back to the Palace.’ Straightening up, she looked slowly around. ‘Yes, I can see how the Grand Duchess fell in love with this very beautiful place. It’s so peaceful and a world away from her palace life.’
‘People can fall in love with places – and people – without ever expecting it.
’
She held her breath, fearing he would say more, but he just stood watching her, making no move. Then, as she turned and went back again, he strolled along beside her.
‘How have you been spending your time here since you arrived?’ he asked.
‘Walking and reading. It has been quite a holiday. Now my work will start again and the Grand Duchess has given me this most welcome task. I’m going back to my room now to write out the order for all I’ll need from my palace workrooms. I shall write to Sarah as well and tell her about it. Then both letters can go with a courier in the morning.’
He thought of the letters that Sarah sent him, full of outpourings of love from the heart and yet physically she could never respond to his passion, her fanatically intense modesty ever a barrier between them. How often he had seen her lovely face contort, her eyes tight closed, as she suffered his tender exploration of her body. At least she was not terrified as she had been on their wedding night, huddling in a corner of the room and crying out that she loved him while refusing to share their bed. He believed that if he had allowed it she would have reverted to her childhood custom of bathing in a robe like a nun to hide what she thought of as shameful nakedness. He had wondered many times what poison her dragon-faced mother had instilled into her mind from an early age. In spite of all his loving efforts he had been unable to dispel it.
‘I shall also write to Sarah this evening,’ he said, ‘and then my letter can go too.’
She was relieved that in speaking of Sarah he seemed to have acknowledged that there was an insurmountable barrier between them and it made her feel more at ease.
‘Will it be another fine day tomorrow for me to begin my work?’ she asked hopefully. ‘You should be able to tell me. Gardeners are always supposed to be able to foretell the weather.’
He laughed quietly, glancing up at the sky, which was clear of cloud, and gave a nod of reassurance. ‘I think I can promise you sunshine.’ Then he turned to her again with his curve of a smile that awoke memories in her of another man in another time. As before, it had the unwanted effect of endearing him still further to her.
She nodded, wordless for the moment, before returning his smile. ‘Thank you, Tom. I’ll see you then.’
He watched her go. Although he had thought she would turn and wave that did not happen and eventually she disappeared from his sight with a flicker of her skirt through the trees.
At a palace window Catherine was deep in thought as she stood looking in the direction of the plateau, even though the trees masked it from her view. She was heedless of the chatter of her ladies in the room behind her. One day when she and Peter were ruling Russia she would build a palace of her own there in that lovely place, the beauty and delicacy of the architecture to match the perfect surroundings. It should be her retreat where she would receive her lover and closest friends. Yes, one day when the crown of an Emperor’s wife was hers.
Twelve
Fortunately for Marguerite the month of May was proving to be exceptionally mild and it was bringing many more flowers into bloom. As always in the mornings before leaving the Palace she collected a basket of food covered by a white napkin, liking to stay all day at her task if the weather remained dry. She could have had a flask of beer too, but she preferred to cup her hands and drink the clear water from a stream on the plateau. A palace carpenter had made her a flower press, which enabled her to deal at once with the blooms she picked. She sketched one of each variety in meticulous detail and painted it afterwards from a box of watercolours that had been found for her.
She had become used to Catherine coming almost daily to watch her at work for a little while, always taking away a few flowers to tuck into her hair or between her breasts. Since her inspiration for a flowered cape had come suddenly, Marguerite concluded that the original reason for herself being here was in case a pregnancy during the summer months should need adjustment to imperial garments. Yet now it could only be through a desire to maintain an attractive appearance, for all would expect the Grand Duke to be the father, his supposedly successful operation being widely known.
When June arrived it was in a burst of exceptional heat that amazed everybody. Soon there was the shimmer of dragonflies over the upper and lower lakes and a delicate azure mist of harebells appeared. As the days went by tiny pansies spread themselves in carpets and the humble buttercup arrived in profusion. Here and there the yellow and pink lady’s slipper peeped out amid feathery grasses.
At the start Marguerite had sent her design for the cape and shoes to Jeanne in order that both should be ready for the embroidery when the first pressed flowers and coloured drawings arrived. Since then she had sent a continuous flow of her work by palace couriers, allowing progress to be made by her Frenchwomen.
Tom came every morning to see if she needed any assistance, but so far she had more than enough specimens to keep her busy. She always became a little tense in his presence, but as he was busy in another part of the park he never stayed long. He had already promised that no paths would be laid until she had finished her work, which was proving to be taking much longer than she had expected as new blooms constantly appeared.
She was packing up her paints one evening when Tom’s shadow fell across her. Looking up, she saw him standing bareheaded and silhouetted against the golden sun.
‘Oh, it’s you, Tom. This isn’t your usual hour.’ She took the outstretched hand he offered and sprang lightly to her feet.
‘It’s such a perfect evening that I thought perhaps you’d take a walk with me before going back into the Palace.’
‘Yes,’ she said, taking off her hat and letting it drop on to the grass. ‘I need some exercise after kneeling and sitting all day.’
It seemed natural that they should turn away from the Palace and begin wandering deeper through the groves of the area where she had happened to be. There was no need to talk. It was too peaceful here for inconsequential chatter and they strolled in harmony. Now and again she looked up at the canopy of foliage when they passed under the branches of a tree, seeing how every leaf seemed translucent in the amber sunlight of the northern evening.
After a while when it was about time to turn back she paused, leaning against a tree and closing her eyes, her expression reflecting her total contentment in this beautiful place.
‘What are you thinking about?’ Tom asked, setting the flat of his hand on the bark beside her head.
‘Nothing really,’ she answered softly. ‘I’m just listening.’
He smiled. ‘What can you hear? It seems very quiet to me.’
‘That’s what I can hear: the quietness. It makes me realize that no palace is ever silent. Always doors opening and shutting, voices and clattering feet and rustling skirts and the thump of the guards’ boots.’
‘But you’ve been painting here on the plateau every day. Haven’t you been aware of the quietness before now?’
She opened her eyes and saw his smiling face close to hers. ‘I’ve been too absorbed in my work.’
Then all words dried in her throat as he stepped closer to her. Immediately she would have moved from the tree, but swiftly he cupped her face between his hands.
‘Don’t draw away from me any more, Marguerite,’ he implored lovingly. ‘We tried avoiding each other, but that was useless. Now at Oranienbaum we have kept up a pretence that hasn’t fooled either of us.’
‘I won’t listen to what you’re saying!’ she cried out, something close to panic in her eyes. ‘I didn’t hear what you said!’
His whole face was drawn by long-suppressed passion and it was as if she had not spoken. ‘The first time I laid eyes on you it was as if all my life I had been waiting for that moment.’
‘Don’t say that, Tom!’ Her expression was desperate and she would have jerked free, but his arms clasped her to him and he stopped her protests with his hungry mouth on hers. That mouth, so like Jacques’s and just as ardent, hurtled her back in time, and suddenly the plateau could have bee
n anywhere in Paris where she and Jacques had once loved and kissed. She was aware of him drawing her down with him on to the carpet of dry leaves. He kissed away the tears running from under her closed lids, not knowing how he was recapturing the past for her, and his caressing hand found her bare breast within her bodice.
‘You and I were meant to be together, my darling,’ he said lovingly.
‘You’re wrong!’ Mentally she spun back into reality. ‘There can never be anything between us!’
‘How can you say that?’ He gazed reassuringly down into her desperate face. ‘We’ve been given this once-in-a-lifetime chance to be on our own here every day. Nobody to question us or to observe. We’re as alone here as if we were on another planet.’
‘But we can’t let this happen, Tom!’ Her voice broke.
He ran gentle fingertips down the side of her face, aware that she was being torn by conflicting emotions. ‘Darling Marguerite, I want to make love to you,’ he entreated. ‘Don’t you see what has happened? This secret place is our own. When we return to St Petersburg nobody else shall ever know it was here that we truly found each other.’
He would have kissed her again, but she turned her face aside and cried out despairingly, ‘This can’t be!’
‘But Fate is being kind to us.’
She was unable to answer him, seeing no kindness in the circumstances that had created this terrible situation. All she knew was that she was on the brink of an abyss and somehow she had to force herself back from it. Even as she doubted her sanity in letting these moments happen she made no resistance as he kissed her again with even more passion than before. She was reminded of ecstatic moments in quiet places where she and Jacques had made love, her whole body alive to his, but they had had no responsibility for anyone except each other.
Summoning up all her strength of will, she broke away from his arms and scrambled to her feet. He remained where he lay, his head bowed in wretched disappointment. She stood staring down at him, her chest rising and falling breathlessly.
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