“Fedor says that Cousin Tanya was a great success," she said, "and Cousin Nikolai danced with her
four times!
Is that really true?”
Countess Maria agreed that it was true, and added that several gentlemen had danced with Tanya more than once. When the child had gone to her lessons, her mother said to Tanya, "I expect there'll be some gossip, but you mustn't mind it if you happen to overhear anything. Some people have nothing better to do, and a newcomer must always be discussed and dissected, you know. Anything Nikolai Ilyich does attracts the gossips' attention in any case – he's very eligible and unattainable, you see. I've never known him to dance so often with one partner before, but I expect he was just making sure you were seen to be on the floor. That's so important at a first ball. Girls who sit by the wall for very long at first never seem to get many partners afterwards."
“I think he was concerned about a misunderstanding we had to begin with," Tanya said, and explained about the staircase and Prince Ruschev's intervention. "I thought Prince Nikolai was sad because his wife was dead, but he said – well, he actually said that he hated her!"
“And so he did, and with good reason!" Countess Maria exclaimed. "He had a strange upbringing. His mother was a frail little thing, really too delicate to bear children. Nikolai was her first, and the next killed her and was born dead. Nikolai was only three when she died, and his father brought him up in a determination to make him strong. He was dreadfully strict, but Nikolai was devoted to him, and did all he could to please him. The old Prince naturally governed all he did, and even chose his wife for him. She was the daughter of one of his brother-officers in the Guard, and it seemed a very suitable match at the time. Anna was very beautiful and only seventeen, and Nikolai was twenty – they were such a handsome couple! Unfortunately, neither of the fathers really knew the girl – her own father had been away at the wars most of her life, and Nikolai's father seldom came to Petersburg. The girl's mother brought her up, and made a very poor job of it, for she grew up selfish and sensuous, with a nasty spiteful streak, and her brother is much the same. Luckily, Nikolai's father died before he could learn the dreadful thing he had done to his son, marrying him to that bitch!”
Tanya was startled to hear the Countess utter this epithet, which came strangely from someone so kindhearted and charitable.
“Nikolai seemed to be fascinated by her," the Countess went on. "It's very difficult to explain, but she seemed to have an extraordinary attraction for men – even the best and most moral of them was affected by her to some extent." She paused for a moment, and Tanya guessed from her expression that Count Alexei had been one of them.
“Poor Nikolai grew to hate her for what she did to him and to his honour, but he seemed unable to break away. She began to take lovers, and treated him cruelly, but worse than that, she flaunted them before Nikolai, as if she wanted to drive him out of his reason. He started to fight duels, but the Emperor intervened. He had a great liking for Nikolai, and he ordered him not to fight any more, and threatened to banish anyone who accepted his challenge. He made it clear that what that woman did was not to be regarded as any reflection on Nikolai's honour."
“But that was dreadful!" Tanya exclaimed, as Countess Maria paused for a moment. "Why should she want to hurt him so? Even if she hadn't wanted to marry him, there was no reason to be spiteful to him!”
The Countess shook her head, having no explanation to offer, and continued, "Nikolai left her then, and travelled abroad for a time, then went into the Army. The Emperor made him Colonel of a regiment, for all that he was young and inexperienced, and he soon became immersed in the welfare of his men and their training. He spent his leaves with us, and still seems to regard us as his real family, but about this time he began to be as he is now, remote and melancholy, as if his ability to feel any emotion has been numbed. Perhaps he made himself so deliberately, because he had been hurt too much. He has friends who like and admire him very much, but he seems unable to respond. The gossips call him the Ice King, for he never seems to be the least bit aware of the tempting morsels the match-making mammas put in his way!”
Tanya remembered his cold, remote expression, and shivered.
“When the French came in 1812, he nearly succeeded in getting himself killed, which I believe is what he really wanted," Countess Maria said sadly. "He was wounded at Borodino, but Marshal Kutusov kindly allowed Vladimir Karachev and Boris to bring him to us, and we nursed him until he recovered. It was very difficult – the doctors were quite sure he would recover, but we felt sure that he really wanted to die, and we had to make up our minds to get him better in spite of himself. I still wonder sometimes if we did the right thing, for he seems to have no pleasure or purpose in his life."
“Perhaps . . ." began Tanya, then changed her mind and asked instead, "Did he recover completely? From his wound, I mean.”
Countess Maria again shook her head a little.
“He couldn't go back to the Army, for he was left permanently weakened by his injuries, but he went with the Emperor into Germany in 1813. In the winter of that year, Anna Mikhailovna fainted on the stairs at the Ruschevs', as you know, and broke her back. She had a miscarriage – not Nikolai's child of course, for he hadn't been near her for years – and the injuries left her paralysed. Nikolai was wonderful to her, and sent for doctors from all over Europe, but they could do nothing for her. She lost her looks through the constant pain, and became more and more bitter and shrewish, and then one day, about a year after the accident, when Nikolai was at Peterhof with the Emperor, she drank a whole bottle of sleeping-drops. She was dead when Nikolai returned home. I can't honestly say that I was sorry."
“There was no reconciliation?" Tanya asked. "One would have thought . . . If he repaid her dreadful behaviour with kindness like that, surely she would have been grateful, at least?" It was clear from the Countess's expression that this had not been the case. "How did she get the sleeping-drops?" Tanya asked, feeling that she would prefer to know, but might find the answer unwelcome.
“Her doctors prescribed them, for the pain prevented her from sleeping, but her maid took charge of them and kept them in a locked drawer. I think perhaps her mother may have left them within her reach, maybe by accident . . . I don't feel it's for us to ask, or judge. It certainly wasn't Nikolai's fault," Maria said, and then continued, "It's nearly five years since she died, but Nikolai seems just the same. We all hoped he would marry again and find a little happiness, and I suppose it could still happen, for he's only thirty-three, but as I said, he never shows a flicker of interest in any of the pretty girls who set out to catch his notice. He just goes about the social round as if it's a duty, dancing with the plainer girls who haven't any partners, always kind and courteous, but quite frozen and lifeless. I think the only real interest he has is in his estates, and he spends most of his time there when he's not in attendance on the Emperor."
“And there isn't anyone who can help him?" Tanya asked. "Doesn't he respond to anyone at all? Not a friend, or a relative . . . the Emperor . . .?"
“There's only . . ." Countess Maria began, then stopped and started again. "He seems to be aware of the affection some of us have for him, and to be grateful for it. Sometimes Irina wins a smile from him, but of course she's too young to understand, let alone help him.”
The Countess shook her head sadly. She was clearly much moved by her account of her cousin's history, and Tanya sympathised with her, thinking how frustrating it must be to see somebody one was fond of lonely and unhappy and being unable to do anything about it. She felt sorry for Prince Nikolai too, particularly as he had been so kind and had put himself out to set her mind at ease over the staircase affair.
He was rather intimidating, though, she thought, and she had found Boris Kalinsky an easier companion, albeit a tease with his flirting. Colonel Karachev was very pleasant too, and his shyness, hidden behind that straight face and abrupt manner, was endearing. Besides, while she was engaged in coaxing him out of his shyness she had no time to remember her own.
There was time for another drive during the afternoon to see some more of the city, and in the evening the Kirovs went to a reception at a nearby house, where Tanya encountered several of the gentlemen who had partnered her at the ball. Vladimir Karachev was there, and seemed particularly pleased to see her, and she found herself sitting with him on a little sofa for two in an alcove while he talked about his Army experiences. Not that Tanya minded, as she was used to that sort of conversation with the General's friends and was not bored by it.
After a while the Colonel left her to fetch some refreshments, and she sat alone for a few minutes. Suddenly she realised that two older ladies, out of sight round the corner, were discussing her.
“She's some sort of cousin or niece of the Kirovs'," said one. "I can't imagine what her family were thinking of, not to bring her Out long ago, for she must be twenty-five if she's a day! And I can't think why Maria Nikolaevna is bothering with her when she has two daughters of her own, and, charming woman though she is, not a rouble to spare, poor dear! This young woman's simply a waste of her time and money, for she's as plain as a plank and far too thin for fashion, and not a kopeck for a dowry!"
“Maria Nikolaevna's clever to enrol Prince Volkhov to sponsor her," the other pointed out. "They may call him the Ice King, but he's the soul of kindness, and at least he's drawn some attention to her. I expect that was the intention, in the hopes that she'll catch a husband, but I think he was quite overdoing it altogether, dancing with her so often when your poor dear Elena had no partners worth mentioning. Such a pretty girl, too!" The voice cooed with insincere sweetness.
“And Boris Kalinsky, too," replied the first lady. "I thought he had a
tendresse
for your dear Svetlya, but he was buzzing round the Kirova as well. Of course, he practically lives at the Kirovs' — I can't think why!"
“Oh, he's nothing but a flirt," replied her friend. "This Kirova woman will do no good wasting her time with him, nor with Prince Volkhov. He's not called the Ice King for nothing! The prettiest girls haven't raised a flicker of interest in him, so that little nobody has no hope at all!”
Tanya was beginning to feel very uncomfortable when the Colonel returned, accompanied by Boris. The two of them were squabbling amicably about which should serve her with the selection of cakes and lemonade which they were carrying between them.
“My dear boy," the Colonel said, "I've been here all evening. You've only just arrived."
“All the more reason for you to give way," returned Boris with his pleasant smile. "Move that table over here, there's a good fellow." Vladimir turned away to hook a little sofa-table into position with one foot, and Boris seated himself in an unhurried and graceful fashion beside Tanya. The Colonel turned back to find himself out manoeuvred and subsided into a small chair, grumbling a little, and they kept Tanya amused by each disagreeing with almost everything the other said in a mock-ferocious and good-humoured way.
Later that night, when she had said her prayers and climbed into bed, Tanya gave a long, luxurious stretch in the comfortable warmth and allowed herself to consider the conversation she had overheard.
It had really not occurred to her that she might "catch a husband" in the few short weeks before the coming of Lent ended the Social Season and sent her on the long journey southwards to a dull and hopeless future. It would certainly be very pleasant to be married to someone she could care for, and to have children, but she had given up romantic dreams of love and marriage when she was seventeen, common sense telling her that she must learn to be content with what she had and not waste her time and make herself unhappy by pining for the impossible. Perhaps she would have been wiser to have gone straight to Taganrog and not allowed herself this tantalising glimpse of another world, but at least she would have something to remember.
“When I'm very old," she thought, "I shall at least be able to say that people gossiped about me when I had my Season in Petersburg!" And she managed, with an effort, to convince herself that that was a joke.
*
In the morning, Countess Maria and Tanya spent a pleasant hour in the Gostinny Dvor, looking at the pretty and expensive trifles in the jewellers' windows and the beautiful shawls, gloves, laces, ribbons and silks displayed in the various tiny shops and booths. Tanya laid out three of her precious roubles on linen and embroidery silks, resolved to work a piece for Countess Maria as a small 'thank you' for her kindness.
In the afternoon, a bitter wind blew up across the Gulf of Finland and it began to snow, so after luncheon she went to her room to fetch the embroidery. As she descended to the gallery on her way back to the salon, she met Prince Nikolai coming up from the entrance hall. He stopped to greet her, and as he kissed her hand, she began to make a little speech of thanks for his kindness at the ball. He straightened up and looked at her in his usual sombre fashion, apparently unconscious that he was still holding her hand.
“It was nothing," he said, almost interrupting her as she had not quite finished speaking. She stood and waited, wondering if she should withdraw her hand from his clasp, and was saved from the necessity of doing so by a sudden joyful cry of "Cousin Nikolai!" as Irina came running down the stairs.
Prince Nikolai released Tanya's hand and picked the child up, swinging her round and kissing her cheek before putting her down again, with a great deal more animation in his face than Tanya had seen before.
“Where have you been?" Irina demanded. "We've been back in Petersburg for three days, and you haven't been to see me!"
“I'm sorry," he replied, almost smiling, "I've been with the Emperor most of the time, but I'm here now, and entirely at your service.”