The Ice King (13 page)

“Yes," replied Prince Nikolai, "but we returned this afternoon." He kept quite still after that and said nothing, but his eyes remained on Tanya throughout the rest of the game, not watching her moves, but studying her, moving constantly and slowly over her features, her hair, her throat, the modest amount of bosom and shoulders revealed by the swathed neckline of her gown, as if he were trying to memorise every detail of her appearance, or perhaps as if she were a picture which he must study in great detail in order to understand its meaning.

Tanya was conscious of his searching regard, and felt the blood burning in her cheeks, as if his eyes were scorching her, yet when she ventured a quick glance at him, they were as cool and dispassionate in their vivid blueness as if she wasnothing but an indifferent marble statue. She half-wondered if he was compiling a mental catalogue of the faults in her appearance, from retrousse nose to overwide mouth, but she could not believe that he would do anything so petty.

He seemed unaware that she was conscious of his gaze, and as he did not so much as glance away from her, he failed to see that Vladimir had noticed, and had allowed his moustache to twitch once or twice. He had even, on catching Tanya's eye, given a quick little quirk of his eyebrows, as if to encourage her in some way. Under the circumstances it was hardly surprising that he won the game, but not as easily as he expected.

“You play very well," Prince Nikolai commented.

Vladimir chose to assume that this meant that he wished to play against Tanya, so the two men changed places. Tanya concentrated much harder on the game, the more so because the Prince was now, of course, facing her, and if she looked up, she still found his eyes on her face, or contemplating her white shoulders and neck, an unfathomable look in his startlingly blue eyes. He gave very little of his attention to his moves, and looked quite surprised when Vladimir exclaimed, "Checkmate!"

“Indeed it is!" the Prince said, surveying the wreck of his army, "I owe you a pair of gloves, Tanya!”

Before Tanya could reply, Princess Dolgorova appeared, tapped her nephew sharply on the shoulder with her fan, and sent him to discuss the recent events in Naples with a remarkably dull fellow from the Foreign Ministry, despatched Vladimir to escort the wispy lady to the winter garden to see the flowers, and invited Tanya to sit with her for a little talk.

They moved across to a sofa and sat down, Tanya trying unsuccessfully to hold her back as straight as the Princess Dolgorova's.

“Are you enjoying your stay in Petersburg?" the Princess enquired.

“Very much, thank you," Tanya replied. "I've never been in such a large city before, and it is so beautiful, it seems like fairyland!"

“I understand that you are interested in architecture. Do you also like children?”

Tanya could see no connection between the two, but she replied, "I think so. I hardly know any except my little cousin, and I'm very fond of her."

“How old are you, my dear?"

“Twenty-five," Tanya admitted, thinking that few people would ask such a question with such directness.

“You wear well. I thought you younger. Are you religious?" "I believe," Tanya replied simply.

The Princess nodded. "Despite my age, I might consider marrying again, for my husband has been dead some years. Would you think me wrong to do so?”

Utterly mystified, Tanya replied, "Why, no! I know the Synod doesn't allow the full service for a second marriage, but I think it would be cruel, if one partner dies, to forbid the other to seek companionship and further happiness. Divorce is different, of course.".

“Of course!" agreed the Princess. "You're a sensible young woman, my dear, and very patient with an inquisitive old woman. Now, I must look after my other guests, if you will excuse me." She left Tanya quite nonplussed.

*

The next morning, Prince Nikolai's valet Pyotr, a burly, moon-faced fellow, delivered a package for Tanya at the Kirovs' house. When she opened it, she found a pretty lacquer box, inlaid with flowers and leaves of mother-of-pearl, with a silver lock and key. Inside was a pair of exquisite white kid gloves, embroidered from the base of the fingers to the elbows with trails of flowers and leaves in delicately coloured silks. She exclaimed that they were far too good to wear, but Countess Maria noticed with mild amusement that she wore them on every possible occasion from then on.

She had an opportunity to thank Prince Nikolai when he called in after church the next day, which was a Sunday, but had to await the opportunity for a few minutes, for Irina claimed his attention as he was crossing the salon towards Tanya after greeting his cousin.

“Please, Cousin Nikolai," she said, "I didn't know you knew any fairy stories!”

The Prince looked puzzled, and glanced at Tanya for enlightenment.

“I was telling Irina some stories one morning when it snowed and she couldn't go out," Tanya explained. "She asked for some new ones, but I couldn't think of any I hadn't already told her, except the one about the sleeping Princess, and I couldn't remember it very well."

“I don't believe I've ever told Irina a story," Prince Nikolai said. "Perhaps I'd better repair the omission.”

He sat down beside Tanya and related to the child the story of
La Belle au Bois Dormant,
much to her delight. She listened with rapt attention, and when it was over, thanked him and went to recount it to her nurse, Drusha.

“I'm sorry I committed you to that," Tanya said apologetically. "You told it very well. One would think you had great experience of telling stories to children.”

The Prince looked at her with a perplexed frown and seemed as if he might be about to say something, but remained silent. After a pause, Tanya thanked him for the gloves, and then he asked her what she had been doing, and whit sights she had been to see. She told him that she had visited the Kazan Cathedral with Vladimir and Marisha that morning, to see Marshal Kutusov's and Marshal Suvorov's tombs and the standards captured from Russia's enemies in various wars.

“Vladimir Sergeivich isn't given to sightseeing," Prince Nikolai commented. "I suppose the military connection . . ." He left the sentence unfinished, as if something had interrupted his line of thought, and then said, "He's a very good fellow, but rather ill-at-ease in the company of ladies.”

Tanya smiled. "He's very shy behind that moustache!" she agreed, "but such a good, kind man." Her eyes met the Prince's, and he gave her a long, questioning look which made her feel breathless and quite unable to speak, and then he looked away and said that he must speak to Maria about Marisha's ball before he left. Tanya gave him leave, and watched him go across the room with a very curious feeling inside her, somewhere in the region of her stomach.

It happened that Marisha was a little indisposed with a cold on Monday morning, and Countess Maria was so distracted by the fear that it might be something worse, that she quite forgot to tell Tanya anything about the family who were giving the ball which they were to attend that evening.

Natasha informed Tanya that the Dmitrievs were "very grand", and gave some of the most brilliant balls in Petersburg. "The old Princess loved it all and really put herself about," she said as she was brushing Tanya's hair. "She's passed away now, poor lady," crossing herself with the hairbrush, "but the Prince goes on with them for her sake, and has his sister to be hostess, and they say there's nothing to beat them, except at the Palace, of course. But there aren't many of those nowadays, with the Empress always poorly and the Emperor's bad leg. -This is the first this season at the Dmitrievs', come to think of it, for they've only just returned from Moscow.”

Tanya took thought and chose to wear the dark green silk, which she thought the most becoming of her gowns, and the pearl comb which Marisha had lent her, with a little pearl necklace which was the only jewellery her mother had left her. Countess Maria, dressing in a small whirlwind of haste after too many last-minute visits to the sickroom, gave her a quick look-over and said she would "do" very well, and then they were off, as Count Alexei had already said three times that they were late.

The house, which was in Millionaires' Row, was particularly splendid and luxurious. The entrance hall and staircase were covered, walls and floor, with honey-coloured marble and bands of malachite. The effect was startling and, Tanya thought, a trifle vulgar. Tubs and troughs of flowering plants occupied every corner, and were trained to climb on the balustrade of the staircase.

Prince Mikhail Dmitriev stood at the top receiving his guests, and seemed in ill-accord with his surroundings, for he was a thin-faced, elderly man with an ascetic look about him, dressed in plain black court dress, the red ribbon of the Order of Alexander Nevsky providing his only touch of colour. Tanya suspected that he didn't really enjoy entertaining.

The ballroom had pale ochre walls divided by alternate pilasters and caryatids in gilded wood or plaster, and an ornate ceiling segmented into square panels bordered by moulded key-frets and filled with acanthus leaves, and eight large crystal chandeliers hung two by two down the length of the enormous room. The entrance doors were at one end, and a similar pair at the other end stood open, showing a gallery leading towards the back of the house. On one long wall hung a vast painting of half-naked goddesses and nymphs disporting in a setting of trees and clouds.

The floor was already filled by dancing couples as the Kirovs entered, and the room was a fine sight with the sparkling of crystal and jewels, the bright dresses of the ladies and a sprinkling of gold-and silver-braided uniforms among the men.

Boris soon appeared to claim a dance with Tanya, followed by Vladimir and then a succession of other partners. It was quite late when Tanya saw Prince Nikolai enter the room, and she returned to her place by the Countess at the end of the dance, hoping that he would see her. He did indeed look in her direction and start to move towards her, but someone stopped him for a word, and before he could reach her she found a dark young man bowing over her hand as Countess Maria introduced him as their host's son, Prince Sergei.

He asked her to dance, and Tanya perforce stood up with him, but she thought he held her a little too closely as they began to waltz, and the admiring looks he cast with his bold black eyes made her very conscious of her low-cut gown and bare arms.

“He's quite overdoing it," she thought. "I'm not a Beauty, so why does he pretend to be so enraptured?" She was unaware that her large hazel eyes with their intriguing gold flecks and her wide, engaging smile had a vitality and freshness which were most attractive.

One or two of the murmured compliments Prince Sergei paid her were not much to her taste, and she hastily led the conversation on to the magnificence of the ballroom.

“Oh, my mother's taste," he replied with a marked lack of interest, his eyes moving over her face at close range in a most disturbing manner. "All rather
démodé
now. It's time Father had it all done over."

“That's a wonderful painting," Tanya said nervously. "Very beautiful."

“Oh, the Rubens," he drawled. "All very well, if you've a taste for painted flesh." Tanya disliked the way he stressed "painted" and was silent. The Prince danced her on a little further down the room, then looked sidelong at her in a rather sly way, which she failed to see as she was firmly looking over his shoulder to avoid his over-ardent gaze.

“I think the other one is better," he said thoughtfully.

“You have another Rubens?" Tanya said in surprise.

“Oh, yes. In the gallery," he replied. "Come and see it. It's just through here and down the stairs at the end.”

They were close to the doors at the end of the ballroom, and he stopped dancing, placed Tanya's hand on his arm, and Tanya could do nothing but accompany him, rather unwillingly, along the gallery.

Boris had been watching Prince Sergei dancing with Tanya with growing unease. He disliked the Prince, who had an unsavoury reputation, and when he saw him take Tanya out of the room he started after them at once, but was halted by Colonel Karachev's iron grip on his arm.

“Think before you act, lad!"

“You know Sergei Mikhailovich's reputation as well as I do," Boris protested, discreetly keeping his voice very low. "And you also know that the gallery only leads to the winter garden!"

“Quite true," Vladimir agreed, "and what precisely are you going to do? He's told her some cock and bull story, I expect, and he'll get her down to the winter garden and kiss her, I shouldn't wonder, but I doubt if he'll do anything more. He's a coward, and the winter garden's well within screaming distance. If you go after them, you'll probably end up by calling him out, and then you'll either get shot or have to marry Tanya because of the scandal, and that won't suit either of you." All this was said in a low, rapid voice and completely belied Vladimir's usual guise of the slightly stupid military man.

“Yes, you're right," Boris admitted grudgingly. "You'd better go."