Splendor (45 page)

Carolyn kept her shoulders squared, her head high, and her tone very even. "Actually, I am ill."

"You have been crying." It was an accusation. Her smile was cold, her eyes black and hostile. "So he has tired of you already."

Carolyn trembled. Marie-Elena had just struck at the very heart of the matter, and she was opening up a wound that Carolyn had not even begun to heal. Had she taken a knife and twisted it in that wound, she could not have done a better job of ripping it open again. Carolyn told herself she would not cry, not now, not in front of this horrid woman, whom she thoroughly despised. "I do not feel well," she said, but her tone was hoarse and almost inaudible.

Marie-Elena laughed.

Carolyn knew that she would leave. Not the palace, but Russia. Tomorrow. Sverayov would have to find someone else to care for his daughter. The situation had become intolerable.

"That is what you get for daring to reach above yourself," Marie-Elena said. And she turned her back on Carolyn, facing Taichili, Raffaldi, and Katya. She smiled. "It is so good to be back in the city! How I have missed the gay life! It has abready snowed in the country, my dears. In any case, the tsar is having a very small, intimate reception tonight. The Grand Duchess Catherine insisted I attend. And how could I refuse? I traveled with her, you know." She bent and ruffled Katya's hair. "I have so much to do! I must decide what gown to wear, and I think I need new shoes." With that, she rushed from the room.

Leaving its occupants in absolute silence.

Carolyn looked at Katya. Her face was set, but moisture was sheening her eyes, and the tip of her nose was turning red. And Carolyn felt a surge of hatred for the callous, shallow woman who could be so cruel to her own daughter. Tears threatened to choke her again as she stepped forward, reaching out to Katya, intending to take her hand. ' 'There, there," she whispered. "You must forgive your mother, for she is like a butterfly, a very beautiful, gay butterfly, who must flit from leaf to leaf. She knows no other way, my dear," Carolyn said softly.

Katya's mouth trembled.

It was too much. Carolyn bent and opened her arms and the small child flung herself against Carolyn, sobbing. Carolyn was shocked, for she had never seen Katya shed a tear, much less display a hair of emotion—and now this. She held her, hard. Wanting to cry, herself, for them both.

"Why?" Katya wept. "Why? Why?"

Carolyn finally felt tears, hot and wet, streaking down her own cheeks. Nicholas's image seared her mind. She tried to force it aside, and failed. She stroked Katya's hair as she rocked her. "Why what, dear?" she choked.

"What did I do?" Katya cried, clinging to Carolyn. "Why doesn't she love me?"

The pain went through Carolyn like a knife. She buried her face against the child's, and finally, allowed herself to vent her own grief. And as Katya sobbed out years and years of anguish, Carolyn thought. What did I do? Why doesn't he love me?

What did I do?

^ Twenty-nine s^

THEY were in the midst of their midday dinner the following afternoon when Marie-Elena returned from the reception. Carolyn had not, after all, left the country. Not only would it have been extremely difficult to navigate her way home, she could not abandon Katya now, for she had become terribly silent ever since her mother's appearance in St. Petersburg the day before. She had also become a reluctant student, refusing to perform in any way. In a way, Carolyn thought it was very positive that Katya had wept so hard, and was now showing her unhappiness so openly. She was not the same child she had been several months ago when Carolyn had first met her.

But Carolyn was not prepared for the sight of Marie-Elena in a stunning ice-blue chiffon ball gown, one cut almost as low in the front as it was in the back, a diamond tiara on her blue-black head, a triple-tiered diamond rope about her throat. It was one in the afternoon. And Marie-Elena, standing there on the threshold of the dining room, was smiling cheerfully at the assembly as if it were hardly extraordinary for her to return home from an evening affair at this particular hour. Carolyn actually dropped her fork to the floor.

"Good morning," Marie-Elena cried. Her'cheeks were flushed. In her hand she held a sable pelisse.

Katya sat stiffly, staring not at her mother but at the

opposite wall, her expression impossible to decipher. She might have been a beautiful, inanimate porcelain doll.

"Baby, what is wrong? Is it not a beautiful morning? I have had such a wonderful time!" Marie-Elena swept into the room and hugged Katya even while she sat there at the table, unmoving. Then she straightened. "Taichili," she said, "see to it that I am not disturbed until six this afternoon. I intend to take a nap. I may be awoken then with tea and chocolates. You know the kind I adore, the ones filled with raspberry cream."

"Yes, Princess," TaichiH said, expressionless herself.

Marie-Elena's gaze slid over Carolyn with utter condescension. "What? You are still here? I am surprised." With that, she turned and sailed from the room, dragging her sable on the floor after her.

It was odd, Carolyn thought, picking at her salmon fillet and potatoes, how a tension-laden silence was the immediate consequence of Marie-Elena's visits. She glanced up, saw Katya stirring her salmon about her plate, and summoned a smile. "Do eat, dear. It is very good, and God only knows when we shall have salmon again."

"I am not hungry," Katya said, staring determinedly at the salmon as if she expected it to swim off her plate.

"But you did not eat last night—not a single bite."

Katya stood, shocking everyone, for she had not asked permission to rise. "I am sick," she announced. "I wish to go to bed."

Carolyn gaped. Taichili was standing. "Young lady, you may be ill, but that is no excuse for forgetting your manners."

Katya stared at Taichili, and did the unthinkable. She turned abruptly and flew from the room.

Carolyn turned to look at Taichili, who was in danger of having an apoplexy. Raffaldi's brows were raised. And then, slowly, Carolyn smiled, and a giggle escaped her.

Taichili whirled. For the first time since Sverayov had left the day before, she looked directly at Carolyn. "You would find such behavior amusing!" she cried.

Carolyn bit off another giggle. "Taichili. Surely you must see that this kind of behavior is far more natural than soldierly obedience to your every command. We are not an army, thank God."

Taichili stared. "Perhaps it is more natural, but something is happening here, and I am not sure what!"

Carolyn blinked, for the governess had never before revealed herself this way, and her frustration was obvious. "I am sorry if you are confused." She hesitated. "I think we are all confused, and the prince's absence does not help." Immediately her heart turned over, stabbed with pain.

Taichili sank back into her seat, glowering at her plate.

Raffaldi said, in his usual amiable manner, "The prince is always absent, dear Miss Browne. He is a military man. His stays home are brief and infrequent."

Carolyn nodded. It crossed her mind that if Marie-Elena were not so horrid, his stays home might be less brief and less infrequent. But she kept the thought, which was so disturbing, to herself. She hesitated. "The princess." Her tone was low. "Does she always.... stay out so late?"

Raffaldi ducked his head, choosing not to answer. It was Taichili who met her gaze. "She is the princess. She can do as she wishes, when she wishes, and no one can say a word against her. That is the way of it."

"I see," Carolyn said, thinking it was intolerable to flaunt one's dissolute way of life before an impressionable child.

But then Taichili said, "Yes. She is always this way. Except when His Excellency is at home."

The princess had a visitor two times that afternoon while she napped, a gentleman who was turned away. The third time Carolyn stood at a window looking out on the lawns and drive in front of the house from a ground-floor room in the central wing. The window was open, for the breeze was fresh and crisp. She watched a handsome, swarthy man in uniform leave the house, trotting toward his black steed, held by a groom. She could not help being curious. Was

this one of Marie-Elerta's lovers? Had this man been the one to keep her out so late the night before? He was certainly darkly handsome and dashing in his white uniform.

"That is Prince Vorontsky," Taichili said behind her.

Carolyn whirled. "He must be amongst the tsar's advisors, or he would not be here in St. Petersburg."

"No," Taichili said firmly. Her cheeks were flushed. "He serves in the Second Army, which we know is to the south, guarding the road to Moscow."

"Well, apparently the princess has an admirer," Carolyn said lightly.

Taichili was silent.

"What is wrong?" Carolyn asked.

Taichili turned away. "He is the Prince's cousin. He is just a family friend."

"I see," Carolyn said. She continued to stand at the window after Taichili was gone, then realized that Vorontsky was not leaving. The groom was taking his horse and leading it toward the stables. A moment later someone flew across the lawns toward Vorontsky, having come from another part of the house in the east wing. It was a woman. It was Marie-Elena.

Carolyn watched, unable not to. Marie-Elena paused before the prince, and he reached for her hand and kissed it. Did he hold it to his lips far longer than necessary? Carolyn was not sure. But Marie-Elena seemed terribly arrogant as she stood there before him in a pale white rnuslin dress. She had no wrap and she began to shiver as they exchanged words. Vorontsky took his short fur-lined coat off his shoulder where it had been fashionably draped and settled it over her shoulders.

Carolyn knew that to eavesdrop was wrong. But she pushed the window open further and strained to hear. Not a sound came to her ears. She was disappointed.

They were walking away, alongside the house—in her direction. Their voices could finally be heard, his low and masculine, hers higher-pitched. Carolyn slipped behind the draperies, her pulse pounding, imagining Marie-Elena's

fury should she be discovered spying. There was no mistaking the tone of the prince's voice. He was upset and angry.

"Why?" she finally heard him say, demandingly. "Why? You ignored me last night. Danmiit, what are you doing?"

"Sasha, we are through," Marie-Elena said in a silken voice. "I am so very sorry."

"And when were you going to tell me about the child? I had to see for myself that you lost it!" he said harshly.

Carolyn could not believe her ears. The father of the child Marie-Elena had lost was Nicholas's own cousin! She peeked out from behind the draperies. They had halted not far from where she stood, and Vorontsky was gripping both of Marie-Elena's arms. Now she could see his features, and hers. He was flushed. Marie-Elena was disdainful.

"Sasha, please. That is old news. I thought by now you would have heard," Marie-Elena said dismissively. "By the by, he knows."

Sasha turned white beneath his dark skin. ' 'Not... Niki?"

"Yes." She smiled.

"Good God! You told him!"

"Sasha, I am not so stupid—he found out. It was Alexi. He will probably insist on a duel, you know." She smiled as if pleased with the notion.

"Are you enjoying this?" Sasha said furiously. "Do you wish him to die—or myself?"

"Can I help it if the two of you fight over me?" She shrugged.

"Perhaps we will decide that you are not worth fighting over, my dear," he said coldly.

Her slap rang out, cracking loudly across his cheek.

Carolyn gasped, almost as loudly, but they were too caught up in their own drama to hear. Sasha had grabbed both of her wrists, wrenching her forward, and she fell completely against him.

"Did you sleep with him?"

"It is not your business," she hissed. "Let me go!" She struggled against him but it was futile.

"You did. You bitch. You slept with Anatole. Did he make you happy, cheriel Did he make you happy the way I have made you happy?"

"Yes!" she spat at him. "Yes! Yes! Yes!"

He stared at her, his handsome face enraged, and then he jerked her, viciously, Carolyn thought, unsure of whether to run for help or not. Yet she was mesmerized. And Sasha locked Marie-Elena in an embrace and bent her over backward as if he meant to break her in two—except that his mouth was on hers.

Carolyn stared as the violent kiss went on and on— watching as Marie-Elena visibly melted, her hands coming up to clutch his shoulders, her body melding to his.

She inhaled, her pulse pounding. Stunned with what she was witnessing, stunned with what she had learned. Sasha Vorontsky was Nicholas's cousin—^and the father of the child Marie-Elena had lost. Oh, God. Surely he was as shocked and offended as she was. And surely, he was terribly hurt.

The lovers broke apart. Sasha stared at her. "I am leaving in an hour."

"Leaving?" she cried, dismayed. "But, how can you go now? You cannot go now!"

"I can, and Lshall." He was grim. "There is going to be a battle, Marie. At a tiny village, one hundred and thirty kilometers from Moscow, which no one has ever heard of. Not myself, not the tsar. It is called Borodino. I do not intend to miss the first major engagement of the war. We expect our armies to meet as early as the day after tomorrow—unless there is a miraculous change of heart on either the tsar's part or Napoleon's."

Marie-Elena was staring at him. So was Carolyn, her heart trying to beat its way out of her breast. A battle. No, he had called it a major engagement. The first of the war. And Nicholas's words returned to her, full force. They

could not afford to lose more than a battle or two or they would lose the war and their country.

She closed her eyes, gripping the windowsill. Nicholas was going to be there. Carolyn had no doubt. And so would Alexi. She was afraid.

"Stay at least for a few hours," Marie-Elena was pleading. "Sasha, darling, stay."

Carolyn glanced up through blurry eyes to see Marie-Elena in his arms. Their kiss was long and hungry.

He broke away. "I cannot. But I will come to see you as soon as is possible. In the meanwhile"—he gave her a piercing look—"stay away from Anatole, and if you com.-municate with Niki, do not discuss me. God knows he must be furious, and as much as I need you, I do love him. I will speak to him myself."