To Dream of Snow

by Rosalind Laker

  ‘I know he is!’ Rose spat out her words. ‘That was the fun of it for me! And that’s all it was for me. Not a lifelong commitment.’

  The anger seemed to drain from Jeanne and she regarded her daughter with a stricken look in her eyes. ‘I always knew you thought only of yourself, but I didn’t know you were heartless too. Was this young Russian the first for you?’

  Rose’s gaze shifted. ‘Of course he was.’

  Nobody present believed her and Jeanne did not pursue it. She turned her back on her daughter and spoke in a tired voice.

  ‘Rose and I will visit the young man this evening. In the meantime we must all get back to work, but first of all I want to talk to Marguerite on my own for a few minutes.’ As soon as the others had gone Jeanne sat down in the chair that Rose had vacated and gestured for Marguerite to sit down too. ‘I shall press for a marriage and hope that the young man in question is fond enough of Rose to persuade her into it.’

  ‘Is that wise? I can only foresee unhappiness for them both.’

  ‘That’s the price they must pay,’ Jeanne replied harshly. ‘The sooner Rose is tied down from her irresponsible ways the better.’ Then her face seemed to crumble. ‘Yet I know I have to consider the alternative to a marriage. It would be so difficult to hide her condition from others as it advances and we can’t use the artifices and furbelows that disguised the Grand Duchess’s pregnancy. If Rose should get turned out of imperial employment she’ll never get anything well paid in good working conditions again.’ Her mouth became tremulous. ‘Then there’s the confinement to consider and the baby. Whatever can be done?’

  ‘Let’s take each stage as it comes,’ Marguerite suggested, concealing her impatience to get to Isabelle. ‘If the young couple are not to wed we can start by letting the apprentices make fuller working aprons for everyone. That should keep the Russian seamstresses from noticing anything amiss for quite a while to come. Leave the rest for the time being. You know we will all help in any way we can.’

  When Jeanne returned to the sewing rooms Marguerite accompanied her to see if Isabelle had gone back to work, but she was not there. Thinking the girl must have sought the refuge of her own room Marguerite hurried to it. When there was no reply to her knock, she tried the door. It was not locked and she went in, but the room was empty.

  Wondering where Isabelle could have gone, she searched several other places in vain before it occurred to her that perhaps the girl had felt faint from shock and gone outside in a desperate need for air. Hurrying downstairs, Marguerite came to a woman washing a tiled floor.

  ‘Have you seen a seamstress in an apron come this way?’

  The woman sat back on her heels to look up at her. ‘About ten minutes ago and at such speed that she slipped and almost fell on the wet floor.’

  Suddenly afraid, Marguerite rushed on until she met a groom entering the domestic hallway from outside. She put the same question to him.

  ‘Did you see one of my seamstresses anywhere outside?’

  ‘A girl ran out of the palace gates when I was on my way to the stables. Would that have been her?’

  She did not stop to answer. Outside the gates she dodged the traffic and saw that a small crowd was gathering on the bank of the Neva. Full of fear, she ran along and was in time to see people reaching down to haul the seemingly lifeless body of Isabelle from the arms of a rescuer in the river. With water streaming from her hair and her arms hanging limply she looked like a puppet released from its strings. Then the crowd blocked out the sight of her and she was lowered to the ground.

  Swiftly Marguerite elbowed a way through the spectators. The rescuer had clambered out himself and was kneeling on one knee as he pulled Isabelle face downward across his other knee and began pumping the water out of her. It was Jan.

  Marguerite dropped down beside him. ‘Will she live?’ she asked fearfully.

  ‘With luck she will,’ he grunted, not looking at her as he continued unceasingly in his task, using such force that she hoped Isabelle’s ribs would not crack. Then after some seemingly interminable moments the water escaped with a great gush from the girl’s throat and she began to cough violently. Some of the crowd began to disperse, but the rest lingered on to watch the end of the spectacle as Jan took off his coat and wrapped her in it. Then he gathered the girl up in his arms, but turned away from the direction of the Palace.

  ‘Where are you going with her?’ Marguerite demanded, hurrying to keep up with him. ‘She needs rest and warmth and care!’

  ‘That’s what she’ll get in my apartment. Saskia will look after her.’

  ‘You don’t even know her!’

  ‘Yes, I do. I’m acquainted with the Legotin family. They have bought paintings from me since my return, and I’ve met Isabelle several times at their house.’

  ‘I didn’t know!’

  He gave her a mocking glance. ‘You weren’t available to tell, being in the country. In any case, she’s not going back to the Palace unless she wishes it. Something quite terrible must have happened there to make her want to end her life in the river.’

  They had reached his apartment. She followed him up the stairs into the room where she had spent many quiet hours in the past. During the next hour she helped Saskia massage some warmth back into Isabelle’s limbs and body before wrapping her in soft blankets to rest and recover. Leaving her to sleep, Marguerite returned to the salon while Saskia went to make coffee. Jan had changed out of his wet clothes and sat writing at a desk, but he put down his pen and turned on his chair to inquire after Isabelle.

  ‘She’s almost asleep.’ Marguerite, suddenly enervated by the shock of all that had happened, sank down wearily on the sofa. ‘You saved her life.’

  ‘I happened to be crossing the river on one of the ferryboats and saw her throw herself in. So, as I swim and happened to know what to do, I dived in myself.’ A grin widened his mouth. ‘In the Netherlands falling into canals is not uncommon, although mostly those people are drunk.’

  ‘But this was a flowing river. Far more dangerous.’

  He shrugged her comment away. ‘Now I want to know what it was that made that poor girl feel she no longer wanted to live.’

  Since he had done so much for Isabelle she felt compelled to tell him. He listened without comment and then shook his head sympathetically. ‘So Isabelle has had her heart broken and Mikail is going to find his life shattered when he returns home from his studies today.’

  ‘It’s a tragedy,’ she said sadly.

  The fragrant aroma of coffee preceded Saskia as she brought it in. She was prepared to stay overnight to care for Isabelle, but Marguerite shook her head over her cup.

  ‘I’d like to sit at her bedside if you have no objection, Jan?’ she requested.

  ‘None at all.’

  ‘Saskia will watch over Isabelle now while I return to the atelier and tell my companions what has happened. Later I’ll come back with my overnight valise and bring some fresh clothes for Isabelle.’

  At the Palace she found that Sophie had waited with Jeanne and Violette for her return and Marguerite told the three of them what Isabelle had attempted and of her subsequent rescue. Jeanne shook her head wordlessly, her eyes full of sorrow, and she walked with the pace of an old woman back into the atelier. Later when Marguerite returned to Jan’s apartment in early evening she walked part of the way with Jeanne, who was now wooden-faced, and a mulish-looking Rose. They were on their way to the Legotin residence.

  Isabelle was lying awake and at Saskia’s persuasion had managed to eat a little food. She was very weepy and leaned over to cling like a child to Marguerite, who had taken the vacated chair at the bedside.

  ‘Why did Mynheer van Deventer have to save me?’ she cried pitifully. ‘I don’t want to go on living without Mikail. I thought he truly loved me, but I realize now that when Rose could take him away so easily he would never have cared enough for me to overlook my past.’

  ‘Hush,’ Marguerite said soothingly as th
e tears flowed copiously again. ‘You’ve had a great shock, both mentally and physically. We’ll talk things over when you’ve had a full night’s sleep.’

  She held Isabelle until she slept and had just eased her on to the pillow when Jan came into the room.

  ‘It will be a long night for you,’ he said, low-voiced in order not to disturb the sleeping girl. ‘Saskia has gone home to her family, but I’ll take a turn with you. I’ll call you if she wakes.’

  Just then there came the sound of feet pounding up the stairs and such a hammering on the apartment door that even Isabelle stirred. Jan crossed the hall and as he opened the door Mikail, wild-eyed, flung himself in.

  ‘Where’s Isabelle?’ he demanded in a shout. ‘I must see her!’

  ‘Not tonight,’ Jan said firmly, barring the way.

  ‘You can’t keep me from her! I know she’s here! I have to talk to her!’

  In the bedchamber Isabelle gave a little cry, propping herself up on an elbow. ‘Don’t let him come in!’

  Marguerite moved swiftly to close the bedchamber door, but Mikail had heard Isabelle’s voice. Giving Jan a great thrust he dived past him and into the room, where he flung himself down on his knees at the bedside, snatching Isabelle’s hands into his.

  ‘It’s you I love and always will, Isabelle! Rose meant nothing to me. Forgive me! Nothing like that will ever happen again!’

  Distraught, she tried to wrench her hands free. ‘No, it’s Rose you must marry! She’s carrying your baby! I could never have been your wife in any case. You wouldn’t have wanted me when the truth came out!’ Her voice was getting pitched higher and higher. ‘My stepfather raped me and used me from my early childhood and in the end I killed him! Did you hear that?’ She gave a hysterical laugh. ‘I’m a murderess!’

  What he had heard made him gasp, but he did not lessen his grip on her and spoke fiercely. ‘It’s as well you rid the world of such a man! If you had not I would have sought him out and killed him myself!’ Then his voice broke. ‘Oh, my darling Isabelle, what you have suffered. I’ll never let any harm come to you ever again.’

  Jan, seeing how Isabelle was in too hysterical a state to take in what he was saying, wrenched him to his feet and dragged him from the room, leaving Marguerite to soothe the girl.

  ‘Now,’ Jan said grimly, throwing him down into a chair and standing over him, ‘what right have you to come here tonight? I assume you’ll be marrying the young woman you’ve made pregnant.’

  ‘No.’ Mikail sat forward and shook his head dejectedly, his tone bitter. ‘Rose created a most terrible scene before my parents and her own mother, saying I was too dull and bookish for her ever to marry me. Then when I said that for the sake of the baby we should go through with it, she screamed out that she didn’t even know if the baby was mine.’

  ‘So what happens now?’

  ‘As some doubt will always remain, my father will pay for the upbringing of the child all the time I’m studying, which I shall repay as well as taking on the financial responsibility afterwards. Otherwise I’m free.’ His tone was bitter. ‘Somehow the pregnancy is to be kept a secret in order that Rose is not dismissed, but how that will be managed I do not know.’ Mikail dropped his head into his hands. ‘What a fool I was! To think that I almost cost my beloved Isabelle her life!’

  Marguerite appeared in the doorway. ‘Isabelle will see you now, Mikail.’ As he jumped to his feet and would have rushed past her, she made him pause. ‘Take your time in talking to her. She’s still in deep despair.’

  He nodded and went quietly into the bedchamber. Marguerite and Jan were left alone. He told her all that had been said as they stood together, both alert in case Isabelle should cry out again. But all seemed to be well. Suddenly, taking Marguerite by surprise, Jan took hold of her chin between his finger and thumb to tilt her chin as he looked searchingly into her eyes.

  ‘Why did you marry Dashiski?’ he asked. ‘I had just arrived in Moscow when I heard of the marriage at the cathedral. I tried to get there in time to stop you.’

  ‘You should not have done that. You could have been imprisoned for months.’

  ‘It was worth the risk. You don’t love him.’

  Somehow it seemed pointless to make any pretence. She answered with perfect truth. ‘I’m very fond of Konstantin and we enjoy being together.’

  ‘But to my knowledge you had not met him when I once told you that I knew somebody else stood between us.’

  She turned away, clasping her hands together. ‘I hope that dear ghost has been laid.’

  ‘Who was he?’

  It seemed a time to speak frankly about everything. ‘When I was working in Paris there was somebody whom I loved with all my heart, and we would have married if he had not died in tragic circumstances. Then that night in Riga a stranger, whom I mistook you for, reminded me so strongly of my lost love that he brought back the past and I foolishly tried to recapture that time through him.’ She shook her head at her own folly. ‘Konstantin is different in every way. That is why I’m content to be his wife.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound a very stimulating relationship to me. I could have made you feel alive! Not as you are now!’ Momentarily his tone became derisive. ‘Just content!’

  ‘That is how I wish to be.’

  ‘Don’t tell me that! I must have been mad that night in Riga to let you go. I even spoke of wanting you for my wife at another time.’

  ‘But you were joking.’

  ‘Yet I said it with more truth than I realized at the time, not knowing it was the beginning of the love I have for you!’

  Although the room was warm she went to stand by the stove as if cold, not looking at him. ‘It would not have made any difference.’

  ‘My brother told me afterwards whom you were meeting. So it’s Warrington, the English gardener, who’s been your link with the past! He has a wife!’

  ‘She is my friend and that was the insurmountable barrier. By marrying Konstantin I’ve put the past away and everything has been solved for me.’ Turning her head, she met his eyes steadily. ‘Now my marriage makes a barrier between the two of us.’

  ‘Oh, Marguerite,’ he said sadly. ‘What have you done to your life and mine?’

  ‘I’ve told you all that needs to be said between us. You know more about me now than anyone else. Continue to be a friend to me, but without any more talk of love.’

  ‘There’s more ways of showing love than talking about it.’

  Mikail’s voice interrupted them, making them both turn sharply towards him. ‘I’ve been talking about love too.’ He looked very serious, but relieved. ‘Isabelle has forgiven me. We’ve put the past behind us, both hers and mine. It means that we are making a fresh start together. So I’m leaving now to let her rest.’

  Marguerite ran forward and kissed his cheek out of joy for them both before going in to Isabelle. Jan nodded approval and gave him a cognac before he left.

  Although Marguerite kept her vigil at Isabelle’s bedside, only letting Jan take her place for a short while, the girl slept all night. In the morning Isabelle thanked him emotionally for all he had done for her.

  The three of them breakfasted together and then Marguerite and Isabelle returned to the Palace. At the moment of parting Marguerite remembered she had not given Jan back the key to the apartment.

  ‘I don’t have it with me,’ she apologized. ‘It’s at the Dashiski Palace, but I shall return it next time I come to St Petersburg.’

  ‘Keep it,’ he said firmly. ‘Someday you may need a refuge.’

  His words lingered with her. It was then that she remembered that Konstantin had forbidden her ever to go back to the apartment. But she had just spent a night there and would keep the key, even if she never returned.

  Isabelle took her place in the sewing room as usual. Rose, who avoided meeting her eyes, had moved her chair to another table. The apprentices were already at work on the new aprons for everybody. But these proved unnecessary, for thre
e weeks later Rose, pale and unsteady, but bright-eyed with relief, came to work after spending the previous evening with Violette. Jeanne guessed immediately what had taken place and gave her daughter a hearty clout.

  ‘You behave yourself in future, my girl! Nobody would help you a second time and I’d turn you out myself!’

  Rose took heed of the warning, but soon began to resent the constant curb that her mother put on her freedom. There were no more comings and goings without her being cross-questioned and her absences timed. Worst of all, her mother sometimes accompanied her when she went to the Pomfret house.

  Before leaving the city for the country Marguerite found a small, pleasingly furnished apartment for herself in one of the city’s magnificent mansions. She knew Konstantin would not have wished to be seen entering a building less grand in any way. Sarah was her first visitor and would be her only one, for there were no facilities for entertaining there.

  Her life with Konstantin took on a pattern of their being together for brief intervals, she always sending word to him whenever she arrived. During these times their social round was much as it had been before their marriage until she left the city again for the quietude of the countryside.

  She and Sarah always met at some time before she returned to the Dashiski Palace. After a while it was noticeable how listless Sarah had become with Tom constantly absent and her health not all it should be. Marguerite was concerned and invited Sarah to stay with her indefinitely, hoping the country air would bring some colour back into her friend’s pale cheeks. Her invitation was gladly accepted.

  Seventeen

  Sarah was thankful to stay and after a few days felt much better. Here at Dashiski Palace she had Marguerite’s company each day and liked being busy untangling embroidery silks for her, pressing a piece of work when it was finished and performing other small tasks. Marguerite, knowing that she would never betray a confidence, told her one afternoon of how Jan had saved Isabelle’s life and also how the whole incident had come about.