Polly and the Prince (3 page)

She bustled off to the kitchen, and Polly returned to the dining room. Her brother and the Russian were on their knees, packing straw into the full china crate.

“So I shot my poor horse and left him to wolves,” Kolya was saying, “and while they were eating, I stumbled through snow to peasant’s
izba—
hut
,
I think is word.”

“Polly, Kolya has had the most amazing adventures!” Nick informed her. Kolya nudged him in the ribs. “Oh yes, I’m sorry I upset Mama. I expect I ought to have told you privately and let you break the news. But what was a fellow to do when you kept asking why I was home?”

Avoiding this invitation to dispute, she said, “Go and apologize to Mama. She is in the kitchen...”

“Food!” Nick jumped up and sped from the room.

“Thank you for diverting him,” Polly said, dropping into a chair. “He is at an argumentative age, I fear.”

“Hungry age, also. Is good lad, I think?”

“He’s a dear, though it was monstrous wicked of him to introduce a bear into the church.” Involuntarily she giggled. “All the same, I wish I could have seen it. Pray don’t tell Nick I said so.”

“Was famous jape indeed. Expelled means he cannot return to school?”

“Yes. Ned will be distressed, I fear, but I’m not really surprised. Nick is not at all inclined to book-learning. In fact, he has wanted to join the Navy, like Papa, since he was in leading strings. Mama dislikes the notion—Papa was away so much and she missed him dreadfully. And Ned always wanted to go to university, but there was not enough money for a good school, so he felt he was doing Nick a good turn by sending him to Winchester.”

“I understand. Is not always easy to know how best to help others. To get good position on ship for Nick, this
is possible?”

“He cannot go as a common seaman, of course. Papa started out as a midshipman, so I expect that is what Nick wants. It is the lowest grade of commissioned officer. Ned will know how to go about it.”

Kolya nodded and stood up. “Box is full. Is necessary to nail top, or tie with rope?”

“I shall ask Ella.” Polly wondered why she had explained about Nick’s schooling. It was nothing to do with the stranger, and he could not possibly be interested. Somehow it was difficult to remember that he was a stranger. Suddenly recalling her disconcerting reaction when he kissed the icon, she said abruptly, “Thank you for the work you have done. Since Nick is come, he can help with the rest. I shall give you money for the stage fare to London, and enough for a night’s lodging in case you cannot find your friends at once.”

“I am not beggar.” His response was unexpectedly sharp. “I have earned meal, no more. If you do not need me, I shall be on my way.”

“But it is too far to walk. London is thirty miles and more.”

Once more he was amused, her unintended insult seemingly forgiven. “I have walked much farther, Miss Howard. Since you have not time for painting, is best I go.”

Between the way he flustered her and the upset of Nick’s arrival, Polly had forgotten the portrait. Kolya’s reminder re-awoke her enthusiasm. “No, stay. With you and Nick to help, the packing will be done much faster. And with Nick here, there can be no objection if you spend the night. I shall be able at least to start the portrait tomorrow. Please?”

He looked doubtful. “To start portrait will be useful?”

“Yes, oh yes. I can draw the right pose on the canvas, and work out the colour tones. And you will earn several more meals so that when you leave you will be rested and well fed.”

“How can I resist? Very well, I shall be good dog and sit for food, if
matyushka
agrees.”

“Mama will agree,” said Polly blithely. And when Ned comes tomorrow, she thought, perhaps he will be able to persuade the proud Russian to accept the fare to London.

Chapter 3

“And the story you told Nick about the wolves, was that true?”

“Almost.” Kolya was sitting patiently on a stool under the skylight Captain Howard had had set in the roof when he came home and found his daughter seriously interested in painting. “It happened to friend, not to me. When wolves chased me, I was not so brave. I hid up tree.”

“I cannot tell whether to believe you or not.”

A cry of anguish rang up the stairs. “Polly!
Polly!”

“What is it, Mama? I cannot come just now.” She was preparing the colour for Kolya’s hair and she had it almost right. Just a tiny spot more of the yellow ochre—once she had a sample on a scrap of canvas she could match it when she came to paint the portrait, when he was gone. Mrs. Howard’s footsteps were heard pattering up the stairs to the attic at a rapid pace. She trotted in, slightly out of breath.

“Polly! You never posted the letter to Ned. Ella moved your chest of drawers to sweep underneath and she found it lying there. You drew a picture on it!”

“Oh, yes, I remember. The sealing wax looked like a rose so I drew some leaves around it. My window was open so it must have blown onto the floor while I was putting on my bonnet, and I forgot it. I’m sorry, Mama. Kolya, sit down, pray. The light changes when you stand.”

He had politely risen when Mrs. Howard entered, and he was buttoning his shirt. Art outweighing embarrassment, Polly had had him open it at the throat to display his icon.

Her mother was far too agitated to notice this impropriety. “How can you be so calm? What are we to do if Ned does not come today? The tenants are moving in tomorrow, and even if they can be put off, the carter has taken everything but what we need for one night. Oh Polly, how could you?”

“But it was only a confirmation, was it not? Ned himself set the date in the first place. You can rely on Ned.”

“Ma?” The house shook as Nick thundered up the stairs. “There you are. What else is there to eat?”

“Nothing beyond your brother’s dinner, though I daresay he will not be here to eat it. And do not call me Ma in that odiously vulgar way.”

“I beg your pardon, Mother dear, but you keep calling me Nicky and I’ve asked you not to a thousand times. Polly, did you know that Kolya’s real name is Nikolai, which is the Russian for Nicholas? Is it not famous?”

“Famous,” said his sister dryly, testing the colour she had mixed. “I suppose you will next want us to call you Kolya.”

“Lord no, Nick will do. Mother, I’m
starving.
When’s dinner-time?”

“When Ned arrives, if he does.” Mrs. Howard cast a reproachful glance at Polly. “Polly, you have paint on your chin.”

She dabbed at her chin with a corner of her smock. “I shall wash it off later.”

“But I can’t wait,” Nick insisted.

“I’m sure Ned never had such an appetite at your age. You will have to go down to the shops and buy something to eat now and some extra eggs for breakfast.”

“Ho, not I. Marketing is for females.”

Kolya laughed. “Is plain to see you do not understand meaning of ‘starving,’ Master Nicholas. I will go to shops for
madame,
if she wishes, as soon as Miss Howard is finished.”

“Oh, if you are going, I’ll go, too,” said Nick at once. “How long are you going to be, Poll?”

“Ten minutes. The best of the light is nearly gone and I have everything I need.” She thinned the mixture of pigments on her palette with a drop of turpentine and tested the colour again.

The aromatic odour reminded her all too clearly of the moment when she had made Kolya’s acquaintance by falling into his arms. His gentle strength, his kindness, his willingness to help, and his lively sense of humour, all added up to a man who was far too attractive for comfort. It was just as well that tomorrow he would be on his way. She did not even know for what dastardly deed he had been exiled, she reminded herself.

She looked up to find that her mother and Nick had gone. If Mama knew how she felt, she would never have left her alone with Kolya. Of course, to Mrs. Howard it was inconceivable that her well-brought-up daughter might be attracted to a common tramp, however gentlemanly his manners and laughing his eyes.

His eyes were not laughing at present. He was regarding her with an intentness that made her cheeks feel hot. She hoped he did not notice her flush—the light in the attic had dimmed suddenly as the setting sun passed behind a cloud.

“That is all,” she said quickly, busying herself with cleaning her brushes. “Thank you for your patience.”

“May I see?”

“No, there is nothing to see as yet.”

“Then I go remove Master Nicholas from under feet of
matyushka.”

It was not only herself whom he had won over, thought Polly, consoled, as he went off. Nick was halfway to hero worship; Mama had no qualms about giving Kolya the run of the house; and after eating with him in the kitchen last night, Ella had reported that he was a “right neighbourly sort,” her highest accolade.

As she washed her brushes and palette and took off the cotton smock with its multicoloured spots and smears, Polly wondered what Ned would think of the stranger his family had taken in. Kolya’s charm would not easily overcome her conscientious older brother’s sense of propriety.

Above all, Ned was wholly reliable. Polly was not in the least surprised when he arrived half an hour later, to be greeted by a tearful welcome from his relieved mother.

“But of course I am here,” he said, puzzled, as he kissed her cheek. “We fixed the date a good fortnight since.”

“I feared you might not remember.”

“I told you that you might rely on him,” said Polly, coming down the stairs. “Let me take your coat, Ned. You see, Mama wrote to remind you and I forgot to post the letter.”

His eyes met hers in a glance of comprehension, and he chuckled. “Polly, my dear, if the house burned down you would stand there studying the shape and colour of the flames and forget to notify the fire brigade.”

Though he was five years her elder, the brother and sister understood each other well. Mr. Edward Howard was a kindly man who had learned long ago to make allowances for Polly’s overmastering passion—when he discovered that his remonstrances had no effect whatsoever. In looks he took after their father, sturdily built, like Nick, but with dark brown hair and grey eyes. His dark blue coat, buckskin breeches, and plain necktie were neat and respectable, making no effort to ape the fashions of his betters.

He hugged Polly. “You are looking very well.”

“Polly, you still have paint on your chin,” Mrs. Howard said, adding anxiously, “Come and sit down, Ned, dear. You must be fatigued after your journey.”

“Not at all,” he assured her, following her into the
parlour. The room looked bare without the African masks on the walls. “Lord John lent me one of his Grace’s travelling carriages and a groom to drive it, so you shall go to your new home in fine style tomorrow.” He sat down with a sigh of satisfaction. “How pleasant it will be to have my family about me after all these years.”

The slam of the back door and an eager, earthshaking tread in the hall announced the return of the shoppers.

“Rather more of the family than you expected,” said Polly dryly as Nick burst into the room.

“Ned! The ostler at the Sussex told me you’d driven up in a fancy rig, so I went to take a look. Is it the duke’s? It’s bang up to the nines!”

“Yes, it’s the duke’s. What the deuce are you doing here, Nicholas?”

“I’ve been shopping for Mother,” said Nick nonchalantly, but there was a wary look in his eye.

“Did you buy everything on the list?” Mrs. Howard asked.

“Yes, Kolya is putting it in the kitchen. Ned, you must meet Kolya. He’s from Russia and he’s had the most famous adventures.” He turned and yelled down the hall, “Kolya, come and meet my brother.”

Polly leaned close to Ned’s ear and whispered, “Nick deserves a thundering scold, but I beg you will not rake him over the coals in Mama’s presence. She is upset enough already. And I shall explain later about…”

“Ned, this is Kolya. Polly is painting him.”

The Russian stood in the doorway, tall and straight. Despite his shabbiness, there was nothing subservient about him. His elegant bow seemed more appropriate to a greeting from gentleman to gentleman.

Ned nodded in return and murmured to Polly, “If you are painting him, I daresay there is no need to ask for further explanation!”

“Kolya is going to London to find his friends,” Polly said aloud. “I offered him money for the stage fare, but he refused it.”

“Very proper,” Ned approved. “In which part of London do your friends reside, Kolya?”

Kolya moved forward with easy grace. Polly thought he was about to take a seat, but at the last moment he recollected his position.

“I shall go first to Stafford House, sir. I made acquaintance of duke’s son, Lord John Danville, in 1814 and met him again in St Petersburg last year.”

“Lord John! That is flying high. I fear you will be disappointed, for Lord John is presently residing at Five Oaks.”

“Five Oaks? I think I have heard him mention. Is country estate of duke,
nyet?
Is far from London?”

“Five Oaks is near Loxwood, is it not?” Polly eagerly asked her brother.

“The estates adjoin,” he admitted with obvious reluctance. “His Grace bought Loxwood Manor from a neighbour. It is to be Lord John’s as soon as the house is refurbished.”

“The Duke of Stafford is Ned’s employer,” Polly explained to Kolya. “We can take you there tomorrow. If Lord John cannot help you, you will be no farther from London, will he, Ned?”

“It is roughly the same distance, to be sure, but I cannot like to be responsible…”

“Lord John will help me.” Kolya’s voice rang with absolute certainty.

Ned was still dubious. Thoughts of blackmail flitted through his mind. He knew that Lord John had met with difficulties, even danger, in Russia and had been desperately
ill on his return to England. After several months of convalescence he had married, and he and his young bride were spending their honeymoon at Five Oaks. Even if this stranger were perfectly honest, the young couple would hardly welcome an intruder at this time.

“But is not my wish to cause trouble,” the Russian continued. “I can walk to Five Oaks as well as to London.”