Winter Rose
The Hermitage Museum, St Petersburg
The Knight's Hall
"Vraiment? You have not heard?"
The astonished questioned shattered the awed hush of the gallery. Heads turned in their direction. Disapproving frowns peered around the plump marble thighs of Roman nymphs and Greek goddesses.
Violet grabbed Katya's hand and dragged her friend behind a chipped mask of Dionysius. "Katya! All of Petersburg does not need to hear you!"
Utterly unabashed, Katya Dolgurukov shook her head so her dark curls danced. "Truly, Violet, I do not know what you have been doing with yourself these past two days." She complained, not bothering to modulate her voice a whit. "You drive out but do not stop to chat. You dine at home and not in company. Have you become a nun, cherie?"
She tilted up the brim of Violet's bonnet and peered closer, her dark eyes alight with laughter. "Is there a veil hidden under all your hair?"
"Stop that, Katya!" Violet laughed and batted the Princess's curious hands away. "And wearing a veil under your hair rather defeats the purpose, don't you think? Besides, I am out now."
"In a gallery." Katya shot the leering satyr opposite a disdainful glare. "This is not, I think, sufficient. Only those with no breeding go to public galleries. It is because they do not possess such dusty old things themselves."
"I enjoy it." Violet lied.
Truthfully, she agreed with Katya. There was a world of difference between a casual admiration of dusty statues and sooty paintings and making a purposeful trip through the bustling city streets to admire them. But it was the only place she was sure she would meet neither Igor nor Patrick by accident.
That aim was quickly becoming the only way for Violet to maintain her peace of mind.
"Enjoy it?" Katya fanned her face with the slim pamphlet the curator pressed upon her at the entrance. The bearded gnome of a man had been perspiring at the prospect of the Tsar's mistress assuming patronage of the institution. Violet and Katya were escorted through the marbled entrance personally by the museum's director. It was only after several refusals that the two women were free to wander around the exhibitions without his attentive escort.
Katya pulled another face. "Please Violet, let us at least wander about the gardens. I cannot gossip with you as I wish with all of these eyes following me." A wave of the pamphlet indicated the marble bust of Cato glaring in disdain at them.
"Very well." Violet linked her arm in Katya's. They wandered towards the shallow steps that exited the hall and descended to sparse walkways of the Hermitage's gardens. "What have I missed in the two whole days since the Grand Duchess's wedding?"
"Ah ah! Unpatriotic of you, Violet. It is her Grace, the Duchess of Edinburgh now, yes?" Katya laughed. "Sasha has been teaching me all about your English aristocracy. But he is a little put out that our Grand Duchess has lost her grandness in this marriage! And this Edinburgh, I understand it is a very wet and dreary place indeed."
"The Tsar may rest easy in knowing her Grace will probably never have to visit Edinburgh if she does not wish it. And thank you, Katya, for recalling me to the proprieties!"
"You are welcome." Katya gave an impish curtsy. "But, yes. The most important part. Darya Mikhailovna - you recall, the flirt we met at Igor's skating party…"
"I do." The striking brunette in red velvet. The woman Violet interrupted in brushing snow from the lapel of Patrick's coat while her husband smiled happily. A tense nerve tightened along the back of Violet's shoulders. "What about her?"
"Well. Apparently, Darya has spent the past two days going around Petersburg boasting about making a conquest of one of your English gentlemen." Katya shook her head. "So discreet, yes? Ah, but that was always so. Even as a girl."
"Yes. The greatest flirt in Petersburg." Unwilling, Igor's words rose to Violet's lips.
Katya looked surprised. "So you have met? I did not know. Ah, but Violet, that is not the end of the story." She glanced around. Seeing they were alone on the gravelled path, she still leaned closer. "She claims he has given her a necklace, the most magnificent piece you can imagine! An emerald, direct from the hands of the new Faberge. Completely in the new style, le dernier cri of jewels."
"Have you seen it?"
"No. But Darya Mikhailovna, while many things, was never a liar. If she says it is an emerald, it is an emerald. If she says her new lover is English, well…" Katya shrugged like one who had seen it all before. "So far from home, qui savez?"
"And she has not said who the gentleman is?" Violet kept her voice light. True, after their… reunion on the night of the royal wedding, Patrick had once again become very busy. His presence was frequently demanded at the Alexander Palace, where the Duke of Edinburgh and his bride were spending their honeymoon. He found it difficult to return to their own apartments in the Anchikov Palace much before the bells of the Kazan Cathedral struck midnight. Last night he had not returned at all, preferring to take one of the many spare bed chambers in the Alexander Palace.
As Katya said, so far from home, inhibitions relaxed even in the most formal of men. And she had been in this position before…
"He must be quite wealthy, to make such an extravagant purchase?"
"Very much so." Katya shook her head. "I have heard that the Tsarevitch himself is thinking of becoming the young Faberge's patron. Even the hint of it would be enough to make the man's prices soar." She ran her finger along the inside of her own pearl necklace and pursed her lips. "Perhaps I might drop a hint in Sasha's ear…"
"Later! First you must tell me the rest of this important gossip I have missed." For the first time since meeting the young Princess Dolgorukov, Violet found herself discomfited by her friend's relationship with the Tsar - the married Tsar Alexander.
How could she scorn Darya Mikhailovna for becoming a man's mistress while accepting so easily Katya's own position as the Tsar's lover? Was she such a hypocrite as Igor claimed?
"The other gossip. Tiens, let me think! Ah, yes. It is not gossip but they say that young Tolstoy is due to publish the first chapter of his new work soon. It is to be in serial form, like the work of Monsieur Dickens."
"He had mentioned to me that he was working on a new novel."
"You have met him too? Tiens, Violet, you will be one of us soon, you will know so many people."
"Once or twice in passing. He introduced me to his wife at the Kuragins' skating party and she was the one who mentioned it."
"Rumour has it, on their wedding night, Tolstoy confessed all his past liaisons to her. Every woman!" Katya's cheek pinked with embarrassment, even as she gave another breathless laugh. "Can you imagine? I would have been furious with him."
"It doesn't seem to have hurt their marriage."
"On the contrary. But what a strange marriage it must be. And speaking of marriage…"
They had rounded the corner of the path. On the bench nearby, an enormous tabby cat lay bathed in the brief winter sunshine, it's eyes slitted against the glare. Katya shooed the beast from its perch and settled herself on the bench. The cat gave the Princess a disdainful stare. It wandered off, picking its way through the snow-dusted stones with painful dignity.
Violet sat next to Katya, smoothing out the skirts of her dark walking suit. "Who is to be married now?"
"Ah, no! It is rather who is not to be married now. You recall the incident with poor Nashtya at the skating party?"
"Somewhat. I remember Nashtya left early but Patrick wanted me to meet the ambassador from France and I couldn't speak with her before."
"Then you have missed the whole story, Violet!" Katya glanced over her shoulder. Satisfied that they were still alone, she continued. "You know how much Nashtya wished to match her nephew, Nikolai Sumarkov with Lidia Niemov?"
"Of course. Lidia's father is a friend of Nashtya's, isn't he? Similar politics or some such."
"Their politics may not have changed but their friendship certainly has! Apparently someone at the Kuragins' party told Ivan Niemov that his daughter was close to forming an alliance with a Sumarokov. Well. Nothing was more sure to set the entire plan up in flames."
"He refused the Count?"
"Refused? He ordered Count Nicholas never to darken his doorstep again. It was nearly a duel, but for the presence of the Tsarevitch to restore order. As for Nashtya," Katya shook her head. "That is one friendship that is gone forever. Ivan Niemov has utterly forbidden his daughter from Nashtya's chaperonage."
"Nashtya must be horrified." Violet frowned. "I know she wanted that match for Count Nicholas. No wonder he was so silent at the Royal wedding."
"They say he looks as though Death laid his hand on his shoulder." Katya caught herself and sighed. "I should not say that. It is sad for young Kolya. Even if he is just a silly boy at times, he was a silly boy in love. And now, he cannot."
"You don't know that." Violet protested. "There is a chance Ivan Niemov will relent. After all, Count Nicholas is not such a bad match, when all is said and done."
"But he is a Sumarokov and on that point, Ivan Niemov will never relent. Besides, now Nashtya is no longer permitted to chaperone Lidia, how can the two young people meet? Ivan already trusts so few with the care of Lidia's reputation. He is like a bear with a cub, n'est-ce pas? And none of those would risk his wrath."
"And what does Nashtya say to this?" From what Violet knew of the vivacious widow, Princess Nashtya would not meekly take this setback with a fight.
"Nashtya does not say anything. She is like you, Violet. She has not been seen for two days."
"What?" Violet sat bolt upright on the bench. "But that is absurd."
"I agree." Katya shrugged. "So do others. But she will see no one. Only her father confessor and when he comes, all she can do is weep. Nashtya," The Princess observed without irony. "Is a woman with great sensitivity."
It sounded more like self-pity to Violet's ears. Although, guessing at Nashtya's life from what she had let drop, this was possibly the first severe setback the widowed Princess had ever encountered. Going from being the only daughter of indulgent older parents to the pampered wife of a besotted prince, Nashtya had lived most of her life ordering the world the way she preferred it. Having never met adversity, she had never had to develop the guile to overcome it.
Well. In that particular area, Violet had ample experience.
She rose to her feet. Katya glanced up, startled. "Violet? What - where are you going?"
"Not I. We." Violet tilted her hat to a rakish angle over her eyes. All the better to storm the gates of Nashtya's self-imposed prison. "We are going to Nashtya's home to solve this ridiculous muddle everyone has created."
"But…" Katya jumped up, her dark eyes wide. "There is nothing to do. Ivan Niemov has decided. We cannot do anything."
"Certainly, if everyone thinks like that, nothing shall be done." Linking her arm in Katya's, Violet shot her friend a brilliant smile. "And if I understand gentlemen at all, that is precisely what Ivan Niemov expects."
"Naturally, but…"
"Gentlemen have the unerring habit of assuming the world runs to their orders. Which makes it twice as enjoyable to confound them."
As Spratt, Violet's butler many, many years later said about Violet: "She never likes to be predictable."
Thank you for the lovely reviews on my last chapter! (I was at work when I spotted some of them and confused everyone by suddenly breaking into claps 😊 ️) I hope you enjoy this one as well, although it's not quite as long as others. For anyone wondering/wanting more Violet/Igor clashing - hold on, it's coming up!
Happy reading!