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"I'll never forget you," she said.

"And I'll never forget you either, darling, but I'll have the consolation of knowing you're with Bryan."

"I can't believe it's all going to come true."

"Sometimes it does," I said lightly. It was difficult to keep the sadness out of my voice.

"Bryan wants me to go ahead with my plans to become an actress. He's going to help me. He promises to write a play for me as soon as I'm ready. He thinks we should
both
have careers."

"You're going to be wonderfully happy, darling."

"And all because of you."

"I –I have a gift for both of you," I said. "Times aren't always easy for struggling playwrights and aspiring actresses.

Sometimes they can be difficult indeed. This

should help."

I unwrapped the necklace and held it out to her. The diamonds sparkled with a thousand shimmering fires. Lucie stared at them in amazement, unable to speak for a moment.

"When sold it should bring enough to keep you both very comfortable for quite some time-for the rest of your lives if you're sensible. I suggest you contact Robert Bancroft at the Bank of England and let him handle investments for you."

"Marietta, it-that necklace is worth-"

"I have a rough idea what it's worth," I said tersely.

"My uncle will-"

"Your uncle bought it for me. I'm giving it to you, and I don't intend to argue about it."

"He_"

"Take it, Lucie."

I placed it in her hand, and Lucie looked at me. Another tear slid down her cheek, which was still faintly discolored.

She finally slipped the necklace into the pocket of her cloak.

"I'd better leave now. Vladimir will be even more suspicious if I stay any longer."

"Oh, Marietta-"

"We must both be strong, Lucie."

She nodded, wiping away a tear. I fought back my own.

"Vanya is waiting at your end of the hall, hiding behind one of the tall Boulle cabinets. As soon as I lead Vladimir away, Vanya will come for you and lead you downstairs and to the back gate. Bryan will be waiting with a carriage, and Vanya will accompany the two of you to Kronstadt and see you safely off."

"I-I'm going to break down."

"No you're not. Keep the cloak wrapped around you and keep the hood up around your face. Good-bye, Lucie."

She tried to speak. She couldn't. The tears streamed down her cheeks. I gave her a quick hug and left the room.

Lucie followed me through the bedroom and paused at the doorway leading into the sitting room, one hand gripping the frame as though for support. I moved on to the hall door, and then, my hand on the knob, I paused and turned, and I shall never forget the sight of her standing there in the doorway, so young, so lovely, on the brink of a whole new life. I blew her a kiss.

"Be happy, darling," I whispered.

And then I opened the door and stepped into the hall and pulled the door shut behind me. Vladimir was standing a few feet away, his arms folded across his chest. I gave him a haughty look and, tilting my chin up, started toward him. Vladimir scowled. I took another step and let out a little cry, pitching forward. His arms flew out instinctively as I toppled against him, and he clutched me, supporting my full weight.

"Oh-oh dear-" I cried.

"What is it?" he growled.

"I –I think I've turned my ankle-"

"If this is some-"

"It hurts. Oh, Lord-"

I winced and made a pained, moaning noise, playing it to the hilt, leaning heavily against him. Vladimir glowered, extremely discomfited, his hands gripping my shoulders. I pulled away from him angrily and attempted to stand and stumbled, falling against him again. He grabbed my upper arms and pulled me up straight.

"You don't have to be so rough!" I snapped.

"You can't walk?"

"I can't even
stand!
Do you actually think I enjoy having your hands on me? Stop squeezing so tightly. You'll bruise my arms!"

He curled his lower lip, dark eyes glowing. He would much prefer bruising my throat, I knew, but he loosened his tight grip. I took a deep breath, wincing again, and then I pulled my arms free and managed to stand on my own for several seconds.

"You are all right now?"

"I think so-"

I started to take a step, wobbled perilously and seized his arm.

"Damn!" I cried.

"It still hurts?"

"It hurts like bloody hell! Tonight of all nights, with the Empress expecting us at the Hermitage in less than an hour. Maybe-maybe it's just a light sprain. You'll have to help me to my room."

"My orders are-"

"I don't give a good goddamn about your orders! And I've had just about enough of your insolence! You'll help me to my room and fetch Court Orlov or I'll see that you're flogged!"

The threat had no effect on him, but my tone of voice did.

Despite what he might think of me, I was clearly his superior, and Vladimir was a servant, trained to obey.

Scowling fiercely, extremely unhappy at this turn of events, he curled an arm around my shoulders, and I shifted position, leaning against his side. Slowly, awkwardly, we began to move down the hall. I hopped, halted, hopped again, gasping every now and then.

"Careful! Not so bloody fast!"

Vladimir grunted, supporting most of my weight, and we moved on, passing the elegant Boulle cabinets and the tables laden with priceless porcelain figurines, passing the stairwell. I stumbled, clung to him, made him stop for a moment while I caught my breath, and Vanya, I knew, was creeping down the hall behind us toward Lucie's door.

Perhaps he had reached it and the two of them were already scurrying off in the opposite direction, Lucie wrapped up in the shabby brown cloak.

I dared not look back. Vladimir and I continued our erratic progress toward my door, and it was so clumsy and uncomfortable I was afraid I might turn my ankle for real, hopping as I was in high-heeled shoes. A full ten minutes must have passed before we finally reached the door to my sitting room, but I couldn't be sure that was enough time. I had to delay him a while longer. He opened the door and helped me inside and I hopped over to the large chair and tumbled intoit with noisy crackling of silk.

"I need a stool," I told him. "There's one over there by the fireplace. Get it for me."

Vladimir gave me a murderous look, but he brought the stool over and set it in front of the chair. Slowly, wincing all the while, I lifted my injured ankle onto it and gnawed my lower lip as the pain swept over me. Mrs. Robinson would turn green with envy if she could see
this
performance, I thought. I emitted a weary sigh. Vladimir stood over me, scowling.

"Anything else?" he asked insolently. .

"I'd better massage it," I said. "There's a small bottle of alcohol on my dressing table. Bring it to me."

He hesitated. I stared up at him with icy hauteur, silently defying him to disobey. He muttered something under his breath and stalked into the bedroom and on into

the dressing room beyond. He spent a good three or four minutes looking for the bottle of alcohol which, actually, was in one ofthe bottom drawers. He brought it in, handed it to me, and I had difficulty opening it. The cap was screwed on much too tightly. Two bright spots burned on his broad cheekbones as I handed him the bottle and told him to open it.

"Thank you," I said, taking the bottle back. "And now if you would be kind enough to bring me a handkerchief, I'll be quite finished with you. My handkerchiefs are in the middle drawer of the wardrobe."

It took him several more 'minutes to find a handkerchief and bring it to me, and I knew I shouldn't press my luck any further. I thanked him with icy politeness and told him to find Count Orlov and ask him to come up to my room. Vladimir left, closing the door behind him much too forcefully. I leaned back against the velvety softness ofthe chair, absolutely spent yet still plagued with nervous tension.

Would someone see them crossing the yard and stop them, challenge them? Would there be a hue and cry?

Would they make it? I closed my eyes, praying they were even now in the carriage and on their way to Kronstadt.

The clock over the mantel ticked slowly. One minute, two, three. In the interests of verisimilitude I lifted my skirts and rubbed alcohol over my left ankle and then set the bottle aside. Six minutes went by, seven, eight. The house was very quiet. No angry shouts in the distance.

They must have made it. They must be on their way. The ship sailed at ten, and by the time Gregory and I returned from the Hermitage they would be long gone, sailing out into the Baltic. Five more minutes passed and I heard footsteps in the hall and braced myself as Count Orlov opened the door and stepped inside, his eyes full of concern.

"Something is wrong?" he inquired.

"I just turned my ankle," I said. "I massaged it and rubbed it with alcohol. I think it's all right now."

He frowned and, before I could stop him, moved over and kneeled down and lifted my skirts back. Fortunately I had rubbed the ankle vigorously with alcohol and it was still a bright pink. Gregory examined it carefully and said it looked slightly swollen. So much for observation, I thought. He asked me if it hurt and I said not any longer and he stood up and helped me to my feet. I took several cautious steps, limping just a little. I told him I thought it would be all right, and he looked extremely relieved.

"This had me worried," he said.

Gregory Orlov had never been more handsome, more dazzling than: he was tonight in his richest attire. His navy blue leather pumps had diamond-studded buckles, and his stockings were ofthe finest white silk. His navy blue satin knee breeches and frock coat were superbly cut to accentuate his physique, his coat was adorned with a row of large diamond-studded buttons. His waistcoat was silver brocade lavishly embroidered with blue- and silver-thread flowers, and the lace flowing at his throat and wrists was a frothy silver tissue. Oh yes, he was dazzling. How could so much virile beauty be combined with such evil?

This was a man who could take great satisfaction, and probably a perverse pleasure as well, in flogging a peasant to the point of death, a man who could brutally rape his young niece and use her as his whore with no remorse, a man given to maniacal rages and acts of casual cruelty performed without thought. How warm he could be, how tender and engaging, this a carefully calculated facade to conceal his total amorality. I shuddered to think how I had fallen under his spell, and it was all I could do to look at him now without revealing the loathing he inspired.

"You can walk all right?" he asked.

"I'll have to move a bit slowly, but-it's fine now." , The necklace, I thought. He's going to notice I'm not wearing the necklace and ask me why and ask me where it is. Dear God, what will I tell him? I glanced at the clock. It was seven-thirty, time for us to depart. Lucie and Bryan were well on their way to Kronstadt. I told Gregory I would like to freshen up a bit before we left and he nodded and I went into the dressing room and applied a touch more pink to my lips and stared at my face in the mirror. I wanted to flee the house myself. I wanted to get as far away from Gregory Orlov as possible, but I knew I had to keep playing the game until it was finished. I couldn't back away now.

I went back to the sitting room and told him I was ready and he took my arm and we went downstairs, moving very slowly because of my ankle. Gregory helped me into a sumptuous white mink cloak when we reached the foyer, slinging a sleek waist-length black sable cape around his own shoulders, and in a few minutes we were in the carriage and on our way and he still hadn't asked me about the necklace, too preoccupied with his forthcoming triumph to notice the omission.

It was a lovely night, calm and clear, the sky a smooth, cloudless black hung with dimly twinkling stars and bathed in moonlight. Pale, silvery rays floated through the carriage windows, and in the hazy half-light I looked at the man sitting across from me. He seemed to be sculpted in black and white, the face pale, brushed with shadow. Brow and eyes were barely visible, but a slanting ray softly illuminated

his lower face. A thoughtful smile idled on the full, splendidly shaped mouth, and as I gazed at it I suddenly knew that this powerful Russian nobleman was not merely amoral and cruel. He was completely unbalanced, driven by an obsession that had carried him far from the shores of sanity. Madness took many forms. Gregory Orlov had been tottering on the edge for many years, ruthless, erratic, given to boutsof gleeful, boyish elation and alternate bouts of fury.

"You are very quiet," he said.

"I'm rather tired, Gregory."

"Tonight will be the great triumph."

"I hope so."

"You are happy for me?"

"Of course," I lied.

"You do not soundhappy, You sound most sad."

"I agreed to stay a month," I said. "And that month is almost over. I will be leaving Russia soon."

"And this makes you sad. You do not wish to leave your new friends."

"I will miss Lucie."

"You will not miss Orlov?" he inquired.

"You've been very generous, Gregory."

He chuckled quietly, and in the semidarkness, in the close confines of the gently rocking carriage there was something chilling about the sound. I experienced a moment of stark fear as I realized my own vulnerability, and I drew back against the cushion, my skirts rippling, rustling. Gregory leaned forward, his whole face illuminated now, brushed with pale silver, eyes gleaming

darkly. The handsome features seemed stamped with a subtle menace. Was I imagining it? I had been under a great strain. Were my nerves getting the best of me?

"You do not have to leave," he said. "After I am back in power I could do even more for you."

"Catherine would love that."

"I can handle Catherine. I still want you, Marietta."

"Tomorrow I will go to Kronstadt and see about booking passage," I told him.

Gregory smiled and leaned back, completely in shadow now, only his large hands visible in the moonlight, resting lightly on his knees. When he spoke, his voice seemed strangely disembodied.