To Dream of Snow (28 page)

‘That doesn't sound a very stimulating relationship to me. I could have made you feel alive! Not as you are now!' Momentarily his tone became derisive. ‘Just content!'

‘That is how I wish to be.'

‘Don't tell me that! I must have been mad that night in Riga to let you go. I even spoke of wanting you for my wife at another time.'

‘But you were joking.'

‘Yet I said it with more truth than I realized at the time, not knowing it was the beginning of the love I have for you!'

Although the room was warm she went to stand by the stove as if cold, not looking at him. ‘It would not have made any difference.'

‘My brother told me afterwards whom you were meeting. So it's Warrington, the English gardener, who's been your link with the past! He has a wife!'

‘She is my friend and that was the insurmountable barrier. By marrying Konstantin I've put the past away and everything has been solved for me.' Turning her head, she met his eyes steadily. ‘Now my marriage makes a barrier between the two of us.'

‘Oh, Marguerite,' he said sadly. ‘What have you done to your life and mine?'

‘I've told you all that needs to be said between us. You know more about me now than anyone else. Continue to be a friend to me, but without any more talk of love.'

‘There's more ways of showing love than talking about it.'

Mikail's voice interrupted them, making them both turn sharply towards him. ‘I've been talking about love too.' He looked very serious, but relieved. ‘Isabelle has forgiven me. We've put the past behind us, both hers and mine. It means that we are making a fresh start together. So I'm leaving now to let her rest.'

Marguerite ran forward and kissed his cheek out of joy for them both before going in to Isabelle. Jan nodded approval and gave him a cognac before he left.

Although Marguerite kept her vigil at Isabelle's bedside, only letting Jan take her place for a short while, the girl slept all night. In the morning Isabelle thanked him emotionally for all he had done for her.

The three of them breakfasted together and then Marguerite and Isabelle returned to the Palace. At the moment of parting Marguerite remembered she had not given Jan back the key to the apartment.

‘I don't have it with me,' she apologized. ‘It's at the Dashiski Palace, but I shall return it next time I come to St Petersburg.'

‘Keep it,' he said firmly. ‘Someday you may need a refuge.'

His words lingered with her. It was then that she remembered that Konstantin had forbidden her ever to go back to the apartment. But she had just spent a night there and would keep the key, even if she never returned.

Isabelle took her place in the sewing room as usual. Rose, who avoided meeting her eyes, had moved her chair to another table. The apprentices were already at work on the new aprons for everybody. But these proved unnecessary, for three weeks later Rose, pale and unsteady, but bright-eyed with relief, came to work after spending the previous evening with Violette. Jeanne guessed immediately what had taken place and gave her daughter a hearty clout.

‘You behave yourself in future, my girl! Nobody would help you a second time and I'd turn you out myself!'

Rose took heed of the warning, but soon began to resent the constant curb that her mother put on her freedom. There were no more comings and goings without her being cross-questioned and her absences timed. Worst of all, her mother sometimes accompanied her when she went to the Pomfret house.

Before leaving the city for the country Marguerite found a small, pleasingly furnished apartment for herself in one of the city's magnificent mansions. She knew Konstantin would not have wished to be seen entering a building less grand in any way. Sarah was her first visitor and would be her only one, for there were no facilities for entertaining there.

Her life with Konstantin took on a pattern of their being together for brief intervals, she always sending word to him whenever she arrived. During these times their social round was much as it had been before their marriage until she left the city again for the quietude of the countryside.

She and Sarah always met at some time before she returned to the Dashiski Palace. After a while it was noticeable how listless Sarah had become with Tom constantly absent and her health not all it should be. Marguerite was concerned and invited Sarah to stay with her indefinitely, hoping the country air would bring some colour back into her friend's pale cheeks. Her invitation was gladly accepted.

S
arah was thankful to stay and after a few days felt much better. Here at Dashiski Palace she had Marguerite's company each day and liked being busy untangling embroidery silks for her, pressing a piece of work when it was finished and performing other small tasks. Marguerite, knowing that she would never betray a confidence, told her one afternoon of how Jan had saved Isabelle's life and also how the whole incident had come about.

‘I wish that girl had had the baby and allowed Tom and me to adopt the poor unwanted little thing,' Sarah sighed wistfully.

‘But would Tom have allowed it?'

‘I believe he would allow anything that made me less tearful all the time, but I've become so terribly homesick, more than ever before. There are days when I no longer want to get up in the morning, dreading the day ahead. At least when we were living in France an aunt and several English friends visited me from time to time. I was able to go home to see my mother during her last days, but here my father's funeral was long over before I heard that I had lost him. Now I feel so completely isolated from my roots.'

‘Why haven't you told me this before? I could see that something was wrong.'

‘Because I know I'm being weak and foolish to feel abandoned all the time.'

‘But you have made so many friends in the English community.'

‘Acquaintances – not friends. Over the past weeks I have refused so many of their invitations that sometimes they forget to ask me now, which is a relief to me. Tom and I have never been apart as much as we have been since coming to Russia. He is so impatient with me at times and he never used to be. Even when he's working not far away, he doesn't come home for two or three days at a time as often as he used to do.'

Marguerite was deeply concerned, able to see that her friend was suffering from melancholia. ‘Have you talked to Tom about feeling lonely?'

‘Yes, but he says he has so much to do now and that it will be different in the winter when we can be together all the time.' She raised her linked fingers up and down in her distress. ‘But I don't want another horrible winter in Russia. I want to go home to England! I had a letter last week from my brother's wife Anne. She has just had her seventh child. If only I could have been there with her! She and I have been friends from childhood. It would be such a joy to me if Tom and I could live nearby and, since my brother David is away at sea again, I could help her with them.' She dropped her face into her hands with a sob that shook her through. ‘I hate this vast country with its cruel snows and its millions of poor, suffering people owned like chattels. I think of England with its gentle countryside and soft weather and how the primroses come in the spring and so much more.'

Marguerite moved to put a comforting arm about Sarah's shoulders. ‘Does Tom have any idea how homesick you are?'

‘No. I'm so afraid of making him angry with me. He is so short-tempered at times. He never used to be. Everything I say or do seems to annoy him.'

Her words revealed a deterioration in their marriage that struck at Marguerite's heart. She knew the change in Tom came from his present distress over her rejection, but with time that breach could be healed between the two for whom she cared so much.

‘I think you should write him a long letter and tell him all that you have told me. I'm sure he will be more understanding than you suppose. He will have felt homesick too at times. I've heard it said that no man longs more for his own country than the Englishman abroad. Perhaps when his summer work is finished he could take you home for a winter vacation.'

Sarah looked up hopefully. ‘Do you think he would consider that?'

‘Tom is a kind man. Ask him and see what he says.'

Sarah wrote to Tom that same day, a long plea for him to grant her this dearest wish to go home for a visit. When a reply came he wrote that he was considering her request. It left her hopes high.

From the start of Sarah's visit Konstantin had not been pleased to find a permanent guest under his roof, although he was courteous to her at all times. As a result he came home less and less to the Dashiski Palace. Nor did he and Marguerite meet often at her little apartment as now she rarely stayed overnight, not wanting to leave Sarah too long on her own. There had been no more talk from him of receiving a city residence through the Empress's munificence, and Marguerite did not pursue the matter, knowing he would be angry if she refused to move into a property with him all the time Sarah was her guest.

It was early September when Tom arrived. Joyfully, Sarah ran to meet him. They were coming across the hall together, he smiling down at her with his arm about her waist, when Marguerite came to the open door of the salon. Seeing her, his face tightened.

‘This is the first time I've seen you since your marriage,' he said, but made no attempt to offer good wishes, ‘and now there is an important decision to be made. Sarah has her mind set on a visit home. I thought it over carefully and we shall leave as soon as our possessions are crated and ready.'

Sarah gave a delighted cry. ‘Darling Tom! How good you are to me!'

Marguerite was intensely relieved. ‘You have made a wise decision. In all honesty I should be afraid for Sarah's health and state of mind were she to stay here much longer without seeing her homeland again.'

He nodded in understanding before turning to Sarah with a softer look, for she was now too overcome with happiness for speech. ‘It shall be more than a visit. Our house in St Petersburg will not be needed any more. I'll never take you away from England again.'

‘Oh, Tom!' Sarah exclaimed breathlessly, hugging him close, her cheek pressed against his shoulder. ‘How wonderful! We're going home at last!' She closed her eyes ecstatically. ‘Home!'

While Tom supervised the packing and crating of their furniture and effects, Sarah stayed on with Marguerite for the last few days. It was already autumn.

When Jan came riding up to the Dashiski Palace Marguerite saw him from the window of her designing studio and went to greet him. He was handing over his tricorne hat and riding gloves to a servant in the entrance hall, his tall frame silhouetted against the sunshine outside.

‘Welcome, Jan,' she said genuinely, glad that he harboured no ill will towards her.

He turned buoyantly, throwing out his arms as if he would have embraced her. ‘How well you look, Marguerite! The country air suits you, I can see.'

Yes, she thought to herself, but not this house. ‘Come! Sit down and let us talk.' She led the way through gilded double doors. ‘Sarah Warrington is staying with me. Do say you will stay to dine with us.'

He accepted gladly and drew up a chair nearer hers. ‘Is she in good health?'

‘Oh, yes.' She told him all that had happened and of the arrangements made.

He nodded approval. ‘That seems an ideal solution. Did you know that Isabelle and Mikail are building up their relationship again? I said goodbye to them only yesterday.'

‘You're returning to the Netherlands?'

‘I'll be going from here straight to the wharf as the ship sails at four o'clock tomorrow morning. I heard a couple of months ago that there are some fine Dutch works going up for auction just before St Nicholas's Day, a couple of Rembrandts among them, and I intend to be there.' Then abruptly he put a question to her. ‘Now that Sarah is going home, have you ever thought of going back to France?'

She gave a little laugh of surprise. ‘Why should I do that? Konstantin would never want to live there and my home is in Russia now.'

‘Then life is being good to you?'

‘Yes, indeed. It will be better when we have a permanent residence in St Petersburg. I have to admit that I do not feel at home under this roof. Even allowing for it being a country house there is a transitory air about the place as if it's never allowed anyone to stay and really care for it.'

‘Maybe,' he answered seriously, not taking his eyes from her. ‘But perhaps it's more than that. I think the restlessness is in you, just because you haven't truly settled down.'

She did not want to pursue the matter and told him about her studio. ‘I have your painting on the wall there.'

‘Focus your roots in that,' he advised, still serious. ‘It will give you a home wherever you are.'

She thought he was right. One familiar object could be an anchor in any alien surroundings. ‘Tell me all that is happening in the art world, and have you done any painting yourself recently?'

She felt completely at ease with him as their conversation flowed. Gone was the old tension of the past. It was if the marriage band on her finger was a talisman working against the turmoil of his intensely male attraction for her. Instead she was serenely conscious of him with every fibre of her being, telling herself that having him as a friend had made him important to her in a way that had not been there before.

Sarah was pleased to see Jan and at dinner he shared his attention equally between her and his hostess, making the duration of the meal the most enjoyable for them both for some time. Afterwards the three of them played cards, he teaching them an amusing game that neither of them had played before and afterwards Sarah played the harpsichord at his request.

When Jan was ready to go it was quite late and since the White Nights had already ebbed away the sky was dark and starry. Jan's horse was brought for him. He and Marguerite stood alone, facing each other.