St. Petersburg. September 10, 1901.
Sophia Petrovna Malevsky.
Today is the day of my wedding and I don't know how to feel about it. Count Alexander Pavlovich Malevitch is a very wealthy man who owns a beautiful state in Crimea, where I could have all the freedom to arrange parties, invite all of my friends, and dress in the latest French fashions. He is also incredibly dull-looking. The man's receding hairline doesn't hide the fact he is fifteen years older than me. What is worse, his personality and topics of interest match his looks. He only talks about agriculture or the daily lives of the peasants, and there isn't much I could be less attracted by.
I look at myself in the mirror and remember why I agreed to this match in the first place. I have always been considered the prettiest of my father's daughters, and marrying such a rich man does have its benefits. I look more beautiful than ever.
My diamond tiara is bigger than the one I wore during my coming out ball six years ago, back when I turned sixteen. My lace-covered white wedding dress adorns my entire neck, making the part of my body I am proudest of look longer than it already is. My bright red hair is pinned up in a bun from which my long transparent veil descends. The skirt around my legs, falling to the floor like the foam of a waterfall, is long enough for Polina, my four-year-old niece, to hide under.
"You are the most beautiful bride I have ever seen!" Polina gushes as she clasps her tiny hands together and places them beside her cocked head in an admiring motion. She has just come out of her hiding place under my dress.
My niece has been observing with quite charming enthusiasm the way my ladies have prepared me for the wedding.
"Wait about sixteen years more, my darling," I bend over to pinch one of her cheeks. "I am sure you will be even lovelier." If I werenʼt wearing such an expensive dress, I would have already picked her up and spun her around.
"Are you ready?" Bogdana, my older sister, opens the door of my dressing room. She probably saw my hairdresser leave minutes ago. She takes just one look at me and gasps, something quite rare for her to do. Fancy things donʼt usually impress her.
"I guess", I reply without thinking. I am not ready. I need like a thousand years more to think about this. But I walk out of the room with Bogdana regardless, her daughter Polina following us.
"Are you happy?" My sister asks with genuine concern. She can detect my ambivalence somehow.
"Not everyone is as sentimental as you, Dana", I smile and roll my eyes. "You are married to a monk, so your concern is ridiculous". Bogdana rolls her own eyes.
We walk down the stairs and travel the endless corridors of our mansion, stopping once we enter the huge living room, where Bogdana and I meet our parents.
Mama, too, gasps when she sees me. She looks as if she were about to cry. Papa, amusingly more so. My friends, dressed in pink bridesmaid dresses similar to my own wedding dress, cheer with enthusiasm. The carriage must also be on its way. I wink at my friends but move to greet mama and papa first, trying to be my usual cheerful self as they rave about how proud they are and how much they love me. How much this means to our family.
There is no way out, how could there be? Everyone is so excited. The only one out of the three Malevsky daughters to secure a good marriage, a marriage to a wealthy man who will save papaʼs decaying state after he lost half his fortune investing it in a scam, a scam that wouldnʼt have been successful if I hadnʼt helped the scammer. A marriage so needed in a family with no sons.
"You look beautiful, my dear", mama kisses my cheeks. No trace of her usual bad mood is left on her wrinkles, no inherent disappointment in my existence. It is the first time I feel like she is proud of me. I accept her affection wholeheartedly.
I hug my father for longer than I should, for I feel so guilty still.
"My dear Lily", he says.
Lily. The way my entire family calls me. I donʼt know exactly how or when it started, but maybe it was when my now-deceased maternal grandmother gifted me a beautiful book about kinds of flowers on my name day. I was younger than five back then, and I remember gushing about the illustration of the lily to everyone who would listen. It is not the meaning of the lily I cared about, it was its beauty. I have always been slightly shallow, something I donʼt hide from myself but do try to hide from everyone else.
My beloved father does care about meanings though. He once told me lilies were associated with purity, passion and rebirth. He put special emphasis on purity, a virtue he claimed was remarkable in me. Always eager to help others, he remembered, even more so than Bogdana.
I donʼt particularly agree with any of this. I usually help others to get them to like me, but I would never try to refute what my beloved father loves most about me.
Papa probably put emphasis on purity for another reason as well, a reason that is almost a given for any proper unmarried lady. I pray he never finds out I am not some pure lily anymore. Although I canʼt say my mother finding out wouldnʼt be fun. If mentioning my stockings at dinner makes her fume, I canʼt even imagine how she would react upon finding out what really went on that night.
"He is a good man, you will see," papa says. "And his family has many boyar nobles for ancestors, just like ours". He gives Bogdana a slightly stern look, but it comes off more as a playful family joke than anything else. Most of the shock and sadness Bogdana's marriage caused my parents have been subsiding for a while now, but the fact I am not following her path still gives papa immense pleasure.
If this makes mama and papa happy then so be it. I can learn to enjoy it as well.
Oo
The day goes on as planned. Most of my nervousness and doubts disappear once I get onto the carriage, which is decorated with lilies. Just like the venue will be.
The ceremony is running smoothly so far despite my usual ambivalence towards church services. It is not that I donʼt love God or donʼt pray whenever I am in trouble, it is just that I often find the rituals boring. 'You shouldnʼt only pray when you need Godʼs help, you should pray to become closer to Him'. That is what my mother would say. I know, I know. Get out of my head, mama.
I just have never been as pious as my parents or Bogdana. My sister married a simple lawyer just because she claimed he was the most pious man she had ever met. Needless to say, not even my deeply religious parents liked the idea of their precious Bogdana, their most obedient daughter, marrying a man with no title. It was a huge scandal among our distant relatives, almost as big as the one with Evgeniya before. My father almost disowned Bogdana like he had done with Evgeniya. Lucky for Bogdana, she was and still is my motherʼs favorite, and marrying my brother-in-law seems to be the first thing she has ever done wrong.
It is strange how much mama cares about helping the poor as God commands, but when it comes to marriage, seeing the average man as worthy enough to wed or sometimes even befriend suddenly becomes an appalling idea, a worse sin than even my own idleness is in her eyes.
Unfortunately for Evgeniya, deciding to remain unmarried wasnʼt the first of her "crimes". Not according to mother. The first one was attending a university, something father indulged, as he considered it a simple phase. Evgeniya was still young after all, and she had always been the smart one.
Mama didnʼt like it one bit though.
"University?" She would spit at my sister. "What a waste of time! What in heavens for?"
Then came the bad influences, the forbidden literature, and the reunions with unruly classmates. As a small child, I would hear Evgenia fighting with my mother. Never again did I hear mama sound as furious, not even when I started acting like… well, myself. Apparently, Evgenia had been reading a book written by a ʼfat and ugly bearded German Jewʼ, as mother called him, more than she had been reading the Bible. I don't remember mother speaking to Evgenia ever again after the latter replied that it was possible the book she was reading held as much truth as the Bible. Mama didnʼt accept Evgeniaʼs apology.
Added to that were prior years of rebellion. Ever since father disowned Evgenia, mother has been gathering tons of so-called evidence that my sister was always the worst daughter, compiling memories and sharing them with her friends. Evgeniya, mother claims, started misbehaving exceedingly from the time she was a baby, going as far as crying more than any of her two other daughters did when we were born.
I donʼt think Evgeniya misbehaved much more than Bodgana and I did back when we were children. I remember playing with her, I remember how nice she was.
I donʼt even think Evgeniya drank, flirted, and gossiped at balls as much as I do now, much to motherʼs dismay. According to Bogdana, who misses our sister like crazy, Evgeniya hated much of the same stuff mother hates about high society. Mother is simply trying to find an explanation as to what happened. What could have possibly led a well-bred woman like Evgeniya to become a fallen woman?
At the very least, Evgeniya wonʼt have to spend the rest of her life with a man she is not attracted to in the slightest, and she will get to have as many lovers as she pleases without even needing to hide it.
I take a glimpse at my future husband and try to find something attractive about his features, anything. I just end up discovering an ugly wart on the lower part of his chin that I hadnʼt noticed before, as the defect is not easily detected unless he holds his head high.
Oo
The litany has ended. It is time to put on the rings, which have just been blessed by the priest. I can only think about my husbandʼs wart though. His wart and my smooth pale skin having to touch that thing.
I must look upset or have been distracted, because the priest has to prompt me to extend my right hand twice. My almost-husband looks concerned as well. I canʼt help but think he should know by now how ugly that distracting feature looks on him and let out a chuckle.
I just chuckled in the middle of my wedding ceremony. I hope no one notices but the priest and Count Malevitch, who clearly did. Mama will not let me leave for my honeymoon without giving me hell for this first.
The time of the coronation comes. This is pleasing enough for me to forget about the wart. Those crowns are so beautiful I have longed for this moment ever since I was a child.
The priest leads us to the center of the church, where we stand on a rose-colored fabric. Just when the moment to profess we have come here on our own free will arrives, I chuckle louder, but by the time everyone is looking at me I have forced my face back into a serious expression. The priest pretends not to notice, but I can tell he is silently praying for God to give him the strength not to kick the bride herself out of the church. He says a few more prayers and our witnesses place the red and golden crowns over me and Alexanderʼs heads.
More prayers follow, and after that, Alexander and I drink from the common cup of wine. This reminds me of the wart again. I almost gag. Then I notice the other imperfections. Too old, too thin, almost no hair. The kindest of my feelings for him is pity.
The priest wraps his stole around me and the Countʼs hands. It is too tight. We are led, followed by the attendants who are still holding our crowns, to walk three times around the analogion, the stand on which several icons and the Gospel Book are placed for veneration.
This is too much. This means too much and he means too little. I try not to think about it. I donʼt care about the meaning. Instead, I focus on the beauty of the church around me. I focus on the style in which the icons are painted.
I donʼt even notice when it is that we are dismissed. The crowns are no longer over our heads. We are man and wife.
Oo
It was a relief to see the venue for the first time. My father didnʼt place a limit on the price of this wedding. He knew he would recover any money spent soon.
The mansion where I will be living for most of the year is beautiful, and the decoration sure makes it even more idyllic. Red and gold tablecloths adorn every round table of the ballroom. A marble vase sits on top of each table, and inside those, unique yet matching flower arrangements have been put in place.
I suppress the urge to explore other places in the mansion. My own home is small in comparison to this. Any doubt or regret I have had vanishes. This is beautiful.
I am supposed to sit with my new husband, but I really want to do so with my friends. My husband doesnʼt seem too interested in keeping me close either way. He has other guests to attend, and he is already talking to them. Most are dull men like him. I am guessing some are members of the aristocracy, and others, simply rich entrepreneurs.
I am on my way to the table where two of my friends, Maria and Elizaveta, are sitting, when my mother gets in my way.
"What do you think you are doing?" She asks with her usual tone as she grabs my hand roughly, although it probably looks gentle from afar.
"I am going to talk with my friends", I answer.
"And what exactly for? Donʼt you see you are not a little girl anymore? You have to greet all the guests, and you now have a husband you havenʼt talked to since the ceremony!" She directs her gaze at the Count.
The warmth she displayed the morning before the wedding has dissipated. She is no longer proud of me, or so it would appear.
"I have already greeted some of them, and Alexander himself is talking to his own guests, mama", I say, trying not to sound whinny. "This is the last night I will have with my friends before I go on my honeymoon".
"I have already heard people talking, Lily!" Mama exclaims in a whisper. "First bursting into laughter at church and now this…"
"I wasnʼt laughing", I whisper as well. "It was just a chuckle, I remembered a joke Miss Alexandrova told me earlier". It is a good excuse, as our maid is always cracking good jokes, and even my insufferable mother laughs at them sometimes.
"Why are you doing this, Lily? Why do you always have to be the center of attention? If it were at least a good kind of attention and not the type that rendered us permanently uninvited to any future events at court".
That subject again. She will never forgive me for that, and to think that if she knew the whole truth she would hate me ten times more than she does now.
"It is not my fault that haughty Empress is so hard to please", I mutter. "Who could have guessed she would get so angry over a simple dress?"
"It was more than that and you know it, you could have ruined all your marriage prospects!"
"I wish I had!" I yell this time without thinking. I see my motherʼs hand move, but she stops herself. It is clear she meant to slap me, but there were some people looking at us already. She didnʼt want them to see.
Tears form in my eyes, but I am too proud to cry over her. I use all my strength to untangle her hand from my arm and rush to my friends. She doesnʼt say anything, and she probably wonʼt apologize or follow me either. She canʼt cause another scandal, of course. I will never forgive her for this.
Since more of my friends are now sitting with Maria and Elizabeta, occupying all the seats, I ask one of the waiters to bring me a chair. I am not spending this evening having dinner with my new ugly husband.
"What was that, Lily?" Elizaveta asks. She definitely witnessed the whole scene.
"What did the witch do now?" Maria follows. This wonʼt be the first time I pour out all of my frustrations onto her.
"Ugh, the same as always, fun is for the devil and all that rubbish", I answer.
Most of the pain in my heart fades away as soon as I start gossiping and making jokes with my friends. We can finally talk freely about our gowns and the jewels we are wearing. They all look so radiant. We ask the photographers to take pictures of us together. I think I will end up having more pictures with them than with my husband tonight.
We also take a look at the many unknown guests my husband has invited. We comment on and guess who is the richest, which one we consider the most handsome, and all of that stuff.
I canʼt wait to be able to talk to those men once I am free. My mother wonʼt be invited to any of my parties or balls, that is for sure. I will find a way to visit my father while spending as little time with my mother as possible.
The food is too delicious to describe. Caviar, salmon, grilled meat, red wine, pastries, and pudding.
My new husband surprises me with a giant diamond ring undoubtedly bigger than the one that sealed our compromise. I put on a show and pay attention to the Count for the first time. I could stare at the ring for hours, but I also enjoy dancing with Alexander. He might not be attractive, but he is certainly a good dancer. Maybe I can grow to like him.
By the end of the night, I feel as if I had married a lifestyle and not really a man. And how could I ever come to regret this lifestyle? Love doesnʼt taste good, it isnʼt as gorgeous as a diamond ring or a ballroom, it isnʼt the sound of a polonaise or the comfort of a warm bed.
After hours of dancing, me and my friends sit back down and keep chatting.
"What is that story about your family being kicked out of court anyway?" Maria blurts out.
"It is not that we were kicked out, we simply haven't been invited back to any events taking place at the Winter Palace and such", I respond. "We donʼt even know why, actually, Countess Irina has no proof it was because of me." I refer to my mother by her first name whenever I am angry at her.
"Oh, it was because of you, Lily", Elizabeta says. "Go on, tell them the story like you told me, half of St. Petersburg already knows anyways". My other friends nod, tease me, and insist, so I look around to make sure the other guests are not too focused on what the bride is saying before I begin.
"Well, I will indulge you", I relent. My friends move their seats to get closer. Half of these girls already suspect what the rumor is about, but I know most of them wonʼt consider it a bad thing but an exciting adventure to be celebrated. "It was about four years ago", I begin. "I remember this because I had just turned eighteen… no, wait, I was about to turn nineteen, yes, I remember mother punished me by not allowing me to have any friends come over for my birthday. It was after my name day, of that I am sure, because it was celebrated as usual."
"Oh, who cares, Lily!" One of my childhood friends exclaims. "What happened?"
"Well, it was the winter of 1897, my first time wearing a brand new ball gown ever since I received my first one for my debutante ball at sixteen", I explain. "You know my parents are not amongst the wealthiest of high society, but lucky for me, my new husband certainly is". All of my friends burst into giggles.
"I swear I have never liked nor will ever like a dress more than the one I wore that night", I smile at the image. "It was white and adorned with dark blue roses".
"It was especially flowered around the cleavage", Elizabeta adds for me. "She once allowed me to borrow it."
"I saw you wear it", Maria nods at her. "It is gorgeous".
"Oh, not only that, the cleavage is low", I say. "It looked exceptionally good on me, I must say, since I am particularly well endowed, but it did not show much more than the dresses other women were wearing. Not even mama protested when she saw me wearing it for the first time. She was there, in fact, when I tried it on in front of the dressmaker, who asked us if it needed any adjustments. Mama said no."
"Irina always blames her daughters whenever something goes wrong", Elizabeta explains our other friends.
"Tell me about it", I roll my eyes. "Anyways, where was I? Oh, yes! My family was attending a ball at the Winter Palace. It wasnʼt my first time there, as I had been assisting the imperial familyʼs balls since I was sixteen, but my other dress elegant enough to be worn on such occasions was way more modest. The new one was more beautiful though, and it looked even better with my earrings, necklaces, and my tiny diamond tiara. Not the one I am wearing right now, clearly". I point to my head and my friends laugh. My wedding tiara is of a considerable size, and I am proud of how wealthy it makes me look.
"Turns out the Empress didn't like my dress, not that she ever had the courtesy of saying that to my face", I tell them. "It is pretty much impossible for anyone to talk to her. She clearly thinks anyone lower than a Grand Duke is beneath her station."
"I have heard the same", one of my friends, a princess, says. "My mother says she never talks to anyone, and that she likes to leave early. I have never seen the Empress with my own eyes, because she hasn't been in any of the balls I have assisted, but mother says Maria Feodorovna is much friendlier. If only we could get her back as the Empress".
"Sadly, that is not how it works, but one can only dream, because this Empress acts as if everyone were deficient in her eyes", I say. "I donʼt think she even knows how to smile. I swear I never saw her smile any of the times I managed to get a glimpse of her, and that day, as I was telling you, she sent one of her ladies to tell me that my dress would not have been considered proper in whatever farm it is she came from".
"Which is nonsense", Maria sympathizes with me. "Everyone dresses like that, and it is not your fault that nature blessed you more than the others". She says the last sentence playfully.
"Of course not", I smile, raising my eyebrow. "And do you know what I did? I notified the lady that in Russia we do wear our dresses that way before lowering mine even further". I act out the scene before my friends as I recall it, making them burst into laughter. We all have a good time giggling and joking about it. Some of my friends try to imagine and act out the way the Empress would have reacted had she witnessed it.
"So that is how my family was taken off the list", I finish. "But who cares, there is always Empress Miechenʼs court!"
"Oh, but that is not all Lily, tell us what happened with the young man you met", Elizabeta teases me, and all of my friendsʼ eyes turn to me.
I canʼt believe I told Elizabeta everything. What happened that night is already a scandal, and it is not even half the truth. I donʼt want it to grow out of proportion by needlessly talking about it with everyone. I thought Elizabeta understood. I give her a stern look that is long enough for her to get the message but not for my other friends to notice.
"It was nothing, he was too far beneath me", I answer. "After sneaking out of the palace, we went on a romantic tour through St. Petersburg together on a carriage. We walked under the moon and watched our reflections in the Neva River, then we sat in the park, and by the time we finished talking, the sun had already risen. My parents had been looking for me for such a long time that mama almost died".
My friends are fascinated by the story. I bet none of them have ever even conversed with a man without a chaperon, save for their relatives. They ask me questions about that night, about the strange man. I answer with half-truths until the conversation moves on to another subject.
Oo
The truth is that despite my cheeky reaction, the ladyʼs comment hurt my pride a bit, enough to make me sit down for a while on one of the red and gold benches. That is when I saw Vladimir for the first time.
At first, there was nothing unusual about him. He was dressed in an elegant uniform. Dark blue tights, black boots, and golden stripes just like many of the other men. He looked about six years older than me, and oh, was he handsome!
He was tall, but his huge muscles disguised his height. Light brown hair and eyes, an elegant mustache, and an intense stare directed only at me, not at any other lady present that night. His interest didn't impress me at the beginning. Most of the men had looked at me the same way at some point or another, but his gaze never wavered, so I decided to give him a smile as a reward. Now I wish I hadnʼt done that.
He walked towards me, still smiling of course.
"Why so lonely, princess?" He said to me. It had been such a strange way of introducing himself that I couldnʼt help but frown. I should have known at that moment. There were so many clues. He stayed away from other people, at least for the most part, and his knowledge of court protocol was clumsy at best.
"Princess?" I raised an eyebrow. "I am not a princess, I am the daughter of Count Malevsky".
"I happen to be a count myself!" He exclaimed. "Count Vladimir Ozerov, at your service".
He bowed, putting a hand over his stomach and extending the other one as if he were a magician finishing his show. This made me giggle. The smile never abandoned his lips, but it gradually changed, becoming blatantly seductive in intent. A half-smile. I truly thought he was a count, an eccentric one, but a count.
"If you are not a princess, how about a rose?" He continued. "How is a rose as beautiful as yourself not dancing? How is it that no one has asked you to dance?"
"I have been asked to dance", I explained a little bit defensively. "I just donʼt wish to".
"How can that be? Who has hurt my precious flower?"
I raised my eyebrows in amazement. "Precious flower? I am afraid I understand your intentions sir, and you will not get what you desire tonight, but if there is a small part of your heart that cares for my grievances, I will confess that one of the ladies has gravely injured my pride with what I consider an unkind comment."
By the time I finished talking, my expressions matched my feelings, and Vladimir sat next to me. He really convinced me that he cared, that whatever it was he was actually seeking, part of his heart had been won over by concern.
"What is your name?" He used a different voice, one that left out any sign of pretentiousness, one that melted my heart before I even realized it.
"Lily", I answered. Not my real name, but could as well be. I would later discover Vladimir might have lied about his own name as well. I donʼt know who the man that stole my heart actually is.
"Lily", he repeated with a smile. "That name is perfect for you. Tell me, what did the lady say?" I explained to him what had just happened, not even leaving out the way I had lowered my dress even further out of spite. Now I realize I let him know everything about me. I opened up my soul, but he never let me know who he really was.
"But dear!" He exclaimed with unashamed familiarity. "Havenʼt you seen how everyone else looks at you! This is the least of your worries!"
"Previously, I had only received compliments about my gown from all sorts of princes, dukes, and other people of renown, but how could any of it matter if the Empress herself didnʼt like it?"
He took my right hand, which was covered by a long white glove, and kissed it. I let him do it of course.
"I like you", he told me, and then he whispered something in my ear: "And how could the opinion of the Empress matter if nobody likes her?"
I had been won over, something that stopped me from seeing the light when we started dancing. How could a count be so ignorant about the proper steps? I made him improve though, and he was an unusually fast learner.
A single command in his ear was enough to keep him from making the same mistake again. By the time we danced our last piece together, I can proudly say he had learned to do it as well as any real aristocrat in the ballroom.
We danced for a long time, which sealed my infatuation. Damn me! I should have never danced. I was completely at his mercy after that.
A seductive half-smile would soon become our sign. He used it when he led me out of the palace for a 'romantic adventure', which was exactly as I described to my friends. I tried to protest at first, but it was useless. He kept showering me with unwavering warmth and affection, complimenting my small nose, my skin, my blue eyes, and my red hair. He claimed I was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, the only girl in the world worth a damn. When he promised me he would ask my father for my hand in marriage, my pride reached sky levels.
I wanted to go so badly. Looking back, I know this man was probably a serial seducer. He knew just what to say, the exact pretty words to use to get me to go with him. With my family, I was just the pure Lily my father loved but didnʼt quite know. For mother, I was the daughter that was never good enough no matter what she did and yet also the familyʼs last hope, upon which its entire legacy rested. Both at the same time.
With Vladimir, I was a goddess. A free-spirited creature and an innocent flower to be cherished, protected, and showered with gifts and compliments. All at the same time.
I knew my parents would be looking for me, I knew my behavior would cause a scandal. I knew and I didnʼt care. This was the main reason my family was excluded from further events at the Winter Palace. The mere rumor must have made the Empress antipathetic to me and my parents. My sistersʼ pasts must not have helped the situation.
Oo
Vladimir and I gossiped a lot about the imperial family as we walked beside the Neva River through the streets and parks of St. Petersburg. I told him all I knew about them. I have many relatives who have met Grand Dukes and Duchesses. He told me he had met some of them as well. I donʼt know if that is true, but he did have interesting facts on them.
"Very little people know about the Empress", Vladimir said. "She mainly sticks to her daughters and husband, which only makes me feel even more curious about her".
"She must have a very boring life anyways", I add. "Doesnʼt find joy in anything and her only purpose in life is to produce a son. Not even that can she do."
"Didnʼt you feel injured by her dislike for your dress?" Vladimir teased.
"Not anymore", I answered with a smile as I slowed down, and he followed suit. "You liked it".
That is when he slowly bent over to kiss me.
The rest of the night was one of pleasure and broken convictions. He rented a room in a very luxurious hotel for one night, and I am not ashamed to say I donʼt regret what happened there. I donʼt regret the sinful physical bliss itself, further proof he was a serial seducer. I do regret how much trust I placed in him, how stupid his affections made me. I became a completely different person, like a beggar with a sign saying: "I will do anything for love".
I talked to him about my life, my fancy tastes, my family. My parents and sisters. I told him about my poor father, his state, and the new business he was building at the time. I described my fatherʼs interest in investment, what he was planning to invest in, the things he feared when it came to investment, and what exactly would convince him to invest in something.
I have always loved talking to my father about such matters. Papa once said that, had I been born a man, I could have been an excellent businessman. He sure does like to exaggerate. I like listening, but reflecting seriously on such matters would be a bore.
Before parting ways, Vladimir said our story had just begun, that my love for adventure had made him fall for me, that he would take me with him to Paris one day, but for now, he was going to visit some French relatives all by himself. He was parting in a week. To visit relatives? More like escape justice! This I know now!
Early the next morning, before the sun was up and while my poor worried parents were still looking for me, I took a carriage with some money Vladimir gave me and went straight home. I entered through the servantsʼ quarters and asked Miss Alexandrova to help me make up a cover story.
When my parents were back, I told them I had returned home early because I was feeling indisposed. This, of course, didnʼt appease their anger. They had almost died of uncertainty. It was my fault and I am not proud of it.
The damage had been done to my reputation even with my cover story, and either way, I had to tell my parents half the truth when, not even two weeks later, I heard my fatherʼs inflamed protests.
Papa was downstairs, and I was in my room. His loud voice could be heard all over the mansion. He had received notice that the savings recently invested had been lost, for the enterprise in question didnʼt exist.
Father had been a victim of fraud. He had lost a good portion of his money, our familyʼs money, which wasnʼt much to begin with in comparison to other families of similar renown.
With tears in his eyes, papa described to me the perpetratorʼs physical appearance and told me he had seen him at court. That is when I knew I had to tell him the truth, and so I did. While I wasn't bold enough to confess I had shared a bed with him, I revealed I had been with that man the night of the ball.
The police also had to be told. Inquiries were made to the bank, but my father couldn't get a ruble back. Vladimir had covered his tracks.
I confided to the police everything I knew about Vladimir, a likely fake name. I told them he was a count. The guest list for the event where I met him was checked and re-checked. There was no Vladimir Ozerov on the list. In fact, there was no Count Vladimir Ozerov at all. Vladimir Ozerov didnʼt exist, and if he did, he was definitely no count.
I had been played for a fool. I had been made to believe I had elicited feelings in this man when he had only wanted to see what he could get out of me.
I thought I was special, that we had something special, maybe only for one night or a few months, but nevertheless special. That it could turn into more, maybe even marriage, even if not through the usual path.
But that was four years ago. It is done. I cannot undo what happened because of my foolish trust in that shameless yet seductive impostor. The past is the past, and right now, the night is almost over.
Oo
My husband wasted no time once the guests were gone.
I tried to be complacent and put on a good act. I donʼt think my husband suspected how unbearable it was for me to consummate the marriage. I smiled and reassured him at all times, not forgetting to act a bit shy every now and then. The night ended up being a disgusting mess still, at least for me. I even surprised myself by hiding my face under the pillow and crying after we were done. I had really thought that part would be easy. It wasn't my first time, and he wasnʼt even mean or anything. My poor ugly husband was a true gentleman.
I really hope he sets his eyes on another woman soon. I can act like the loving oblivious wife, I just canʼt pretend not to be disgusted by that wart for much longer.
It doesnʼt matter. Women like me have lovers all the time. I will find a way to feel like I felt with Vladimir someday, and I will live a comfortable and luxurious life, which is something that will never change.
I close my eyes and think of the balls I will be hosting, of the sailing I will do in the Crimea, of the expensive dolls and other presents I will give to my niece… or nieces. Bogdana may have more children. I think of how much I will gossip with my friends now that my mother, so similar to that haughty Empress, wonʼt be around to scold me.
In the morning, several prominent newspapers will be mentioning the marriage of Count Malevskyʼs youngest daughter to Count Malevitch, and how instead of taking his last name, she is now Sophia Petrovna Malevsky-Malevich, which is the surname name her son will also have in order to preserve the Malevsky legacy, and the Malevich legacy for that matter.
My parents confidently assume I will have a son as if it were impossible for me to give birth to daughters exclusively, as the Empress has so far. It is likely I will only have girls, and I secretly hope so as well. Boys are rowdy savages most of the time, and I couldnʼt bear it if one of my sons ended up being like Vladimir. Girls are usually sweet little creatures, easier to raise. I donʼt understand how my mother could never appreciate that.
My father is the last male descendant of our family, and he was desperate enough to beg my husband to hyphenate our last names just so that the Malevsky surname doesn't disappear. It is clear us Malevskys donʼt have a talent for producing sons.