Once Upon a December

Chapter 9

St. Petersburg 1874 - The Kuragin Palace

Violet counted in her head. "27, 28, 29, 30.." 30 days had she been here. That would make it her fifth week in St. Petersburg, and her second as his lover. He of course, had used the word mistress, which had left her in a state of shock. Her toes curled at the word, but never the less, that was the reality and even if the word felt like daggers in her heart it wasn't enough to make her regret her actions. It might have done before, but not now. She couldn't deny her own emotions anymore - they had become too intense, too deep, too true. If anyone had told her a month ago that she would one day end up in an other man's bed, and a married one for that, she would have laughed in their face, or more likely slapped them across it. She never in her wildest imagination thought she could fall in love like this with an other man, in any man for that matter. She had been told by her mama that she was in love with Patrick, and she had believed her of course, since she had never been in love before. She had been convinced that being with a man who could make you smile, who would kiss you every or most nights, take you to bed on occasions and call you his wife, meant that you were in love with him. She had always had a hard time uttering that word "love", it sounded so awkward when coming from her lips and she had only said it to Patrick when he had taken her to bed and said it himself. But it wasn't until she had been with Igor that she had truly understood the meaning of the word. Up until he had kissed her and gently made love to her that first night, the word had been a lie she frequently had to tell. Now she found it hard and almost impossible not to shout it out loud when she was with him. Even the thought of it, as she sat by the desk, made her blood race.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a scrawny figure entering her room. It was one of the several butlers of the palace (they did indeed do things differently here), who came with a small stack of letters in his hand. "These have been delivered for you, Lady Grantham" he said in a thick accent and handed her the letters. "Thank you…?" "Grodonisjovski" Violet's eyes shot wide open as she tried not to burst out laughing at the ridiculously long name. She managed to contain her self, but didn't try to repeat the name "Very well, you may go". He left the room after a stern bow, and she giggled to herself when she was once again alone. She had never been prone to laughter easily, but that too had changed lately somehow. Strange, she thought. She opened the first letter. It was from Patrick and not very long.

My Dearest Violet

My first month in Moscow have proved quite satisfactory. The culture here is to my surprise very different from that in St. Petersburg. When we haven't attended the duties of the household, we've been on quite a few tours around the city. How I wish I could have shared some of this beauty with you Violet. I'm sure you would have appreciated it. I hope you are not too discontented at the palace and that you've at least found some comfort in the rest of the English company. Surely you've spent some time with them, and perhaps with the Princess herself. Be sure to send them my regards. Be safe and patient until I return.

Your affectionate husband,

Patrick.

Violet folded the letter and put it in the desk drawer. It hadn't awoken any grand emotions of longing on her side, and the way it was written suggested, that it hadn't been written with it either. She sighed heavily. Deep down she felt ashamed that she wasn't missing him more, however the relationship they had, was never a deep-felt one. She was fond of him, of course, and he of her she suspected. But sometimes she wondered, if he would really care much if he knew who she was really spending time with here. As long as no body else would. She shook that thought, she was surely loosing her mind. She turned her attention to the second letter, which was actually more of a note. The handwriting was as harsh and linear as the person it belonged to:

Dear Lady Grantham

I hope you'll attend tonight's festive gathering with the rest of the household's wives. I'll expect your reply by teatime.

HHP Irina Kuragin

This was just what she needed. A dinner with all of the dull English wives and the person whom she found harder and harder to look in the eye. She had to attend of course, she was as important here and Patrick was in Moscow. Well, to Patrick anyway. She wrote a short reply right away, so she could hand it to "What's his name" later.

The last letter was longer. It had no addressing or name on it, except her's which was written formal of course, but as beautiful and masculine as the owner of it's hand. She felt her breath catch once more as she opened it and started to read:

My Love, Violet

I wish I wouldn't have to write you like this, but alas I can't call on you in the sunlight. How grateful I am of the short winter's days of Russia. I suspect you've heard from Irina by now. She told me she would be writing to you, and I am both thrilled at the thought at seeing you tonight and saddens by the fact, that I cannot greet you how I usually do. It shall be a night of torture not to be able to touch you. But we must be patient, my love. The night is not too far away, and I'm counting every second till I'll be able to make love to you again. I have never had the need for a woman like this before, Violet. It's not just that I want you more than anything, because that too is true. No, I need you. Every minute of my existence. Come to me as fast as you can tonight my love, I'll be waiting.

Forever your's

Igor

Violet suddenly felt a burning feeling underneath her many petticoats, and it grew even stronger as she reread the letter. She had to shift a little in her chair, but the feeling didn't go away. She had never felt such strong sexual desires before, and she damned her circumstances softly to herself. Tonights dinner would indeed be torture, she thought, but she was going to have dinner with him, in the same room, in front of everybody and she couldn't quite shake the feeling of pride it brought her. Nobody would know of course, but they would, and it would be enough. They would know they were each other's. She rang her bell and Grodosi… "what's his name" entered. "Lady Grantham" he said and bowed "Yes, will you deliver this to the Princess please", "Da" was all he answered and Violet was astonished by his lack of manners. It was certainly not usual that the servants would speak Russian to her and then without addressing her by her title. She chose to ignore it, but as he exited she caught him giving her a funny look. She wasn't quite sure how to make it out, but it seemed like a mixture of disbelief and disgust. How very rude, she thought and then returned to her desk. Perhaps she'd better conduct a reply for Patrick. He would surely be expecting that.