The Summer Day is Done (17 page)

How young she was, thought Alexandra with heartache, how very young.

‘We should need some sleep,’ said Anna practically.

‘No, we shouldn’t,’ said Olga, ‘it would always be day, we’d never be tired, there’d be no tomorrow, only today, going on and on. What do you say to that, Mama?’

‘I say my sweet darling is very happy.’ Alexandra paused, then said, ‘And how did our friend Mr Kirby enjoy himself?’

Olga bent her head lower to her glass of tea.

‘Oh, very well, I think. Alexis says Papa must make him a general.’

‘What would you like Papa to make him, my love?’ asked Alexandra gently.

‘I? Mama, what is it to do with me? I hadn’t thought about it at all.’ But the blush was there, burning, the falling hair a bright curtain that could not quite hide the rising crimson. Olga could never be evasive without betraying herself.

Alexandra sighed. She frequently relived her own youthful dreams and the day when Nicholas appeared, a handsome embodiment of all she had ever desired. She had been so fortunate. Olga might not be. She could not spoil her daughter’s dreams. They would fill her life for a year or two, would fade and be replaced by more practical considerations. It was only important that while her children were young they should be happy. They were none of them difficult, they were the best of children, devoted and good. They were intelligent, they knew who they were but they would never place material things before love and kindness.

Olga must have her dreams.

But she would never forget she was the Tsar’s daughter. And Mr Kirby could be relied on. At least, she felt he could.

‘Ivan Ivanovich,’ said Tatiana one morning, ‘my mother says she would be exquisitely
enchanted to receive you at your most loving convenience.’

‘What did she say?’ he asked.

‘Actually,’ said Tatiana, ‘she asked if you would like to go and see her.’

‘Quite the same thing, O Grand Duchess,’ he said. ‘
Avanti
, I go to exquisitely enchant the Empress.’

Tatiana watched him as he went long-leggedly on his way. The little sigh that escaped her was genuine. He really was the nicest man and so droll.

‘Do you know,’ she said a few minutes later to Olga, ‘I think I’m going to become awfully incurable.’

‘Darling,’ said Olga soothingly, ‘you aren’t to worry. You are bound to develop some sort of brain later on and then you’ll be just as normal as the rest of us. Well, almost.’

‘I’m speaking,’ said Tatiana haughtily, ‘of becoming incurable in my passion for Ivan.’

‘How fascinating,’ said Olga in awe and wonder. ‘Do you think it’s going to be as incurable as your passion for Captain Mestaroy and your devotion to First Officer Paul Sahkov?’

‘Heavens,’ said Tatiana, ‘how cutting you are.’ She bubbled. ‘But, Olga, isn’t it delicious to have Ivan here? He’s so droll. I’m sure those stiff Englishwomen swoon about for him. Tell Mama we simply must keep him.’

‘Keep him? Do you think he’s a monkey, then?’

‘Well,’ said Tatiana impishly, ‘no one could say he wouldn’t make an adorable pet.’

Olga turned away.

‘That’s not amusing,’ she said quietly, ‘that is only very silly.’

Tatiana flew to her sister.

‘Olga, oh, I’m sorry.’ She stared in disbelief and distress. There were tears in Olga’s eyes. ‘Olga?’

‘Oh, it’s nothing,’ said Olga quickly, ‘it’s just something in my eye. See if you can see it.’

But Tatiana could see nothing.

Alexandra thanked Kirby for coming to see her so quickly. She was gracious without being condescending. She spoke first of her family’s pleasure in his company, of his continuing kindness towards the children. She asked about his own feelings, whether he still found Livadia enjoyable. He answered in the only possible way. Then she returned to the children, discussing with him the ways and characteristics of each. She spoke at length of Olga.

‘Your Highness,’ he said then, ‘all your children are a delight. It would be gratuitous of me to speak of what they mean to you and his Imperial Highness, and what you mean to them. They are your children and always will be. I know what the Grand Duchess Olga means to you, I know what she is and who she is. There’s nothing I’d do to give you concern in any way. I am greatly privileged by the kindness you’ve shown me, and as much as an Englishman can be I’m your servant, Highness. I am also your friend. Always.’

Alexandra, sensitive and responsive, regarded him with swimming eyes.

‘Thank you, Ivan Ivanovich,’ she said, and said no more.

The days began to pass more rapidly. It was still summer, the leaves still a bright green, the sun a brilliance. Alexis was not concerned with time, only with life, and Anastasia, Marie and Tatiana absorbed each day with careless rapture. Only Olga was wistfully counting the hours. And each hour saw her turn her back more consciously on adolescence to face maturity. If she did not have Tatiana’s quick vitality, she was beautiful because of her colouring, her blue eyes and her inherent grace.

The gardens of Livadia were invaded that summer by every spirit that belonged to the realms of laughter and joy, and the presiding king was the jester of mirth and revelry.

Kirby burned to a deep brown, the sun drenching his hair and his beard with gold. Sometimes Olga could not take her eyes off him. Visitors in the shape of the occasional ministers, formal in frock coats, looked like museum effigies beside him. The Tsar rolled up the shirtsleeve on his serving arm at tennis. Kirby rolled up both of his. His arms were tanned, dark, sinewy. Olga thought of roving adventurers, piratical and free. She also thought of pale, elegant Crown Princes and the coldness came.

Stay as long as you like, Alexandra had said. But Kirby knew he could not stay until the family went, with himself as a last-minute embarrassment to his royal hosts. He told Karita he could not stay the full three weeks. She understood.

‘Their Imperial Highnesses will be so busy when they leave,’ she said, ‘it wouldn’t do for us to be in the way, monsieur.’ She hesitated. ‘You will not forget, I am to be in your service, yes?’

‘Do you really wish that, Karita?’

‘Oh, yes,’ she said.

She had no fears. Ivan Ivanovich would be her protector as well as her employer. Her parents had not only given her their blessing, they had said that to be in the service of an English lord and to go to England with him was to give her and all her family a standing never before achieved. They agreed with her that he was, of course, a lord. She would come back to Russia in time, but meanwhile would see the world and that was a good thing for anyone. She was to remain faithful to Russian Orthodoxy, count her beads and take her ikons. Oravio no longer mattered. He was to marry another girl, a more complaisant one than Karita.

Of course, it was all still dependent on whether Princess Aleka Petrovna would agree to release her. Kirby was to arrange to call on her in St Petersburg. It was all very exciting and sometimes Karita could hardly sleep at night.

Kirby advised Alexandra that he must go. She did not attempt to dissuade him, she only said, ‘You don’t mean immediately, I imagine?’

‘I thought the day after tomorrow, Your Highness.’

She nodded. It was difficult to fault him, except in that his presence did divert Olga’s thoughts from the inescapable course her life must take. ‘Well, we ourselves will be leaving soon. Will you
tell the children, Ivan? If I tell them they’ll beg me until I’m distracted.’

He told them, all of them, in the gardens. They did not hide their dismay. Alexis thought his going was something to do with having been drilled too much.

‘No, Alexis,’ he said, ‘you’ve drilled me not too much, not too little, but just enough. Now I know my left from my right and my nose from my knees.’

Alexis thought that splendid but very funny.

‘Ivan,’ said Anastasia, ‘it’s not a laughing matter. What will we do? Who will play I Spy with us?’

‘Only General Sikorski,’ said Tatiana, ‘and he’ll get it all mixed up with Catch.’

‘Catch?’ said Marie.

‘Yes,’ said Tatiana. ‘Catch my eyeglass, dear child, it’s falling out again.’

They shrieked, forgetting their dismay. Only Olga remained apart from the laughter.

The following morning she searched the gardens for him. She found only Anna Vyrubova.

‘Anna,’ she said, ‘where is Mr Kirby? Have you seen him?’

‘I think he’s on his way, sweet,’ said Anna.

‘But he can’t be,’ said Olga aghast, ‘he hasn’t said goodbye and he wasn’t to leave until tomorrow.’

‘He’s only going to Yalta,’ said Anna passively, ‘he’s arranging a carriage now.’

‘I must see Mama.’ Olga was urgent. ‘Perhaps she’ll let me go with him, I’ve things to get.
Anna, please send someone to tell him to wait while I find Mama.’

She ran. She found her mother. She smoothed her hair and dress, she explained that she had things to buy in Yalta.

‘What things, darling?’

‘Oh, a book for you, Mama. Please, may I go with Mr Kirby? It would save two carriages and having to find someone else to go with me.’

Alexandra could not resist the appeal. Olga could dream a little longer. Mr Kirby would be gone tomorrow. She sent only a footman to accompany the coachman. Yalta was a friendly place. The family often shopped informally there.

The carriage was waiting when Olga came down the steps. She wore her best walking-out dress of summery white, with a blue-and-white beribboned bonnet, and carried a parasol. Kirby thought she looked young and sweetly lovely. He gave her his hand, assisting her into the open landau.

‘It’s not inconvenient for you, Mr Kirby?’ She was as composed as she could be.

‘Inconvenient? I’m delighted,’ he said.

‘Oh.’ She lowered her eyes demurely. ‘You see,’ she said, as he seated himself beside her, ‘I’ve things to buy and Mama said my French lesson was of no great importance.’

‘French lessons never are, except to the French. But are you to have no lady-in-waiting?’

‘You are to escort me,’ she said. ‘Oh, will that be a nuisance? You’re going because you have things to do there. I shall be in the way.’

‘In the way?’ he said as the carriage moved off with the wheels grinding a little. That, he thought, was typical of her modesty, and her presence typical of the informality of the family when they were at Livadia. ‘Olga Nicolaievna, when you’re in the way the day will be a sad one. You’ll be a great help, in fact. I’m going to buy presents, and you’ll be able to tell me what everyone would like. Well, I am in luck, aren’t I?’

‘You’re going to buy presents for the children?’ She had put her parasol up. She looked like summer itself in her soft, warm enchantment.

‘For everyone,’ he said. ‘What fun,’ said Olga. She often accompanied her mother to Yalta. It was quite exhilarating to accompany Mr Kirby. They bowled along at a spanking clip-clop, the air dry with heat and as heady as a vineyard. The wild-grape foliage was dusty, the fruit glimmering among the leaves. ‘Buying presents
is
fun, isn’t it?’ she said.

‘It was going to be a worrying responsibility buying the right ones until you came along,’ he said. ‘You’ll be invaluable. Look, the hawk.’

She followed his pointing finger, eyes tracing the falling descent of the bird. It dropped from the sky, a plummeting black against the blue, and disappeared behind a slope.

‘How swiftly a hawk dives,’ she said, ‘almost as if it’s given up life.’

‘Instead,’ he said, ‘it’s actually gone to plunder the life of another. You are a very fine Grand Duchess today, Olga. Is it your hat, your dress, your parasol or you?’

He spoke lightly, with a smile. She looked at him, her eyes dancing.

‘I think you’re being nice to me because I’m going to be invaluable when you shop,’ she said.

He laughed. It evoked a happy response from Olga. They laughed together. Oh, how wonderful it was not to feel shy or constrained, to feel so much at ease with him. She liked it as he sat back in relaxed enjoyment of the ride, his straw boater tipped to shade his eyes from the sun, his blue linen jacket and white trousers cool-looking. The wheels threw up chips as they entered a village whose brightly coloured cottages and houses were built on serrated slopes. A man on a horse loped towards them, the horse black, the man as dark as mahogany. He touched his hat and inclined his head to the Grand Duchess. The Tsar and his family were familiar figures in the area, the carriage with its Imperial crest easily recognizable. Olga gave the man a smile, inclining her own head shyly under her parasol. Kirby loved the way she made the gesture. He felt that here in the Crimea the Tsar, if not Tsarism, was as secure as possible. He was sure that under no circumstances would Olga be allowed to ride through St Petersburg as freely as she was riding to Yalta. Here the Imperial family went around without fuss. It was not like that in certain other places in Russia.

Before he had met the Imperial family he had been curious about them as autocrats, not as people. Now he was sure there were no people less equipped to be autocrats than they were. They had inherited autocracy, they were
imprisoned by their heritage and governed by the edicts of their ancestors.

On this summer day it did not seem important.

‘Mr Kirby …’ She turned to speak to him. He gave her a smile and she knew there was no need to make conversation, no need to think that on such a day he would regard silence as dull. It was enough for him that summer bequeathed its magic and the carriage wheels sang over the dusty road. She was not unused to the attentions of men, mainly the suitable young officers always in the background. They could engage in endless light flirtatiousness. It would be words, words. How nice that Mr Kirby could get along without any words at all at times. Olga felt so free, so relaxed.

They alighted outside a square house in Yalta. Kirby said that he first had to see a consulate official. Did Olga mind if they did their shopping afterwards?

‘It’s whatever you wish,’ she said, ‘I only have to buy a book for Mama.’

‘Good,’ he said. He took her in with him and the clerk, with no idea who she was, only that she was deliciously charming, found her a chair. She was quite happy to sit and wait, making no fuss at being left while he went through into Anstruther’s office. Anstruther had not missed a glimpse of the girl. She pleased him very much.