Splendor (51 page)

He was surprised. ' 'He has left Tver?'' And even as he asked the question, he recalled Carolyn's description of his ^ selfish cowardice when he had abandoned everyone in Moscow.

"Obviously." Her anxious gaze held his.

"Is Marie-Elena with him?" Nicholas asked, with some regret. He could not help but hope that she remained in the country.

Carolyn shook her head. "He is.alone."

With his right hand, Nicholas reached out awkwardly and touched her shoulder. "You have nothing to be afraid of."

Carolyn smiled at him, but behind the smile, he saw her dread and her fear. "Come," he said. He hobbled back to the tent where his pallet was, and saw the Italian tutor outside, chatting with Katya. Katya giggled at something he said, then waved at Nicholas. "Father!"

Raffaldi turned and bowed. "Excellency." His smile was gone. He was very grim.

And Nicholas knew he was not the bearer of good tidings. "Signore. How are you?"

"I am fine, thank you, Excellency. And I have heard you are recovering from a terrible wound. I am so relieved!" Raffaldi cried with his usual theatrical air.

"Shall we step inside?"

"Yes."

"Katya and I will wait here," Carolyn said, holding the child's hand.

Nicholas nodded and preceded the tutor into, his tent. He sat down on the cot, carefully placing his crutches where he could easily reach them. "Why are you not at Tver?"

Raffaldi was pale. "Excellency, I have terrible news."

His jaw flexed, his heart raced. "My wife?"

Raffaldi hesitated, and nodded. "Prepare yourself."

"Spit it out."

"She is dead."

Nicholas stared. And his first thought was of Katya, who loved her mother, and asked when she would see her every single day. He was grim, anguished. "What has happened?' '

"Bandits, Excellency, a dozen of them. They forced their way into the house, killing many of the servants. I myself feigned being dead, which is the only reason I am alive." Raffaldi stopped. "The house has been razed. Excellency. Nothing stands except for stone."

His temples throbbed. Katya. How would he comfort her? How? But Carolyn would help him, and she was a

woman, and she loved his daughter, too. He looked up. "How did she die?"

Raffaldi took a deep breath. "Unpleasantly, Excellency."

He stared. "How unpleasantly?"

"They used her first."

He was ilL She had suffered, and he had not been there to protect her, no matter that he despised her—for she was his wife, and the mother of his child. "Are you certain?"

"I heard her screams. Excellency," Raffaldi said, causing Nicholas to stare at him. He rushed on. "And then they set the fire. As I have said, nothing is left except for stone. I did find this." He opened his palm, revealing a huge yellow diamond ring. Nicholas recognized it instantly. Raffaldi handed it to him. "I am sorry. Excellency."

Nicholas closed his fingers around the ring, which he would give to Katya. "You are dismissed, signore," he said coldly.

Raffaldi nodded, mming to leave.

"No. I mean, you are dismissed from my employ."

Raffaldi whirled. "Excellency!" he cried. "What have I done to deserve—"

Nicholas cut him off. "You deserted Miss Browne and my daughter in Moscow. And far more importantly, you did not help my wife when she was being savagely attacked. Get out."

Raffaldi was white. He turned and stumbled from the tent.

And Nicholas opened his palm. For a long time, he sat there staring at the flawless diamond ring, all that was left of Marie-Elena.

Carolyn knew that something was terribly wrong as she watched Raffaldi stride from the tent, not even pausing to say good-bye to her or Katya. He mounted his horse, his face mottled with temper, and spurred it into a canter. She had the feeling she would never see him again, and could not have cared less. *

"Katya, can you stay here with Major Rostov and Lieu- ■ tenant Kahady?" Carolyn asked, gazing anxiously toward Nicholas's tent.

Katya was already seated between the two wounded veterans, both young, amiable men, not much older than Carolyn, both of whom had their arms in slings. Katya had been playing dice with them as it was. They had been teaching her how to gamble.

Carolyn left the trio to their devices, rapidly approaching the tent. She slipped inside and found Nicholas sitting on the cot, his expression odd. It was grim, she decided, very, very grim. "What is wrong?'* She did not move from the doorway.

He looked up. "Where is Katya?"

"Outside with two of the wounded." Carolyn realized he was holding an extraordinary diamond ring in his hand.

Nicholas stared at her. "Her mother is dead."

Carolyn stared back, her mind becoming strangely frozen, while Nicholas related to her what had happened. She thought about Katya. Katya would be bereft. And then she remembered waking up one morning to find her own dear mother dead. Carolyn trembled. As she well knew, one never recovered from the loss of one's mother. Oh, God. Never.

"Carolyn. Do not cry," Nicholas said harshly.

She hadn't realized that she was crying, and she turned as she wiped her eyes, gazing out of the tent. Katya was laughing, apparently having won a round of the game of dice. "I lost my mother when I was about her age," she said unevenly. "There is no one I loved more."

"I know," Nicholas said softly. "And only you would be so selflessly moved by Marie-Elena's death," Nicholas returned.

She met his gaze and suddenly understood. Suddenly there was far more than hope for the two of them, there was freedom. Carolyn's heart beat hard and she was paralyzed.

He reached for his crutches and stood. Hobbling over to her, he paused. "I am sending for the priest," he ssiid.

She started. "Nicholas!"

His jaw flexed. His eyes blazed. ' 'We are both lucky to be alive. Give me one good reason to wait."

"What are you saying?" she cried. But she knew, oh, she knew.

"I want to marry you today. And do not tell me I must wait and mourn an entire year for a woman I despised."

"But she was Katya's mother. And what will Katya say?"

"Somehow, I will explain it to her," he said. He tossed away his right crutch and reached out, pulling Carolyn against him. She clung to his shoulders, stunned, yet dismayed because she could no longer mourn for Marie-Elena, not when her death was bringing such a love and such a future. She had never wanted her own happiness to be founded on the death of someone else. But God had directed Marie-Elena's fatas—or had it been the other woman's own selfishness? Through hot, thick tears, Carolyn looked up.

Nicholas met her gaze for a single iiistant, breathed, "I have waited for this my entire life," and crushed her hard, his mouth seeking and finding hers.

St. Petersburg

"Princess Sverayov. May I?"

Carolyn paused on the stairs. Alexi was.bowing with great deference, but when he straightened, he was grinning at her, and he was terribly dashing in his crimson and gold uniform. "Alexi!" she cried, lifting her silk shirts and racing down the last steps and into the huge hall. She managed to halt at the last possible moment, for she had intended to embrace him in a bear hug. Instead, out of breath, she curtsied. The diamond tiara she was wearing felt as if it were beginning to slip.

He took her hand and held her at a short distance. ' 'My

God," he said, low. "Being married to my brother suits you."

Carolyn knew she blushed. It had been three weeks since they were married by the priest who had been there at the field hospital to perform last rites for the dying soldiers. They had only just arrived at the Vladchya Palace a few days ago, for the doctors had not wanted Nicholas to travel until then. Carolyn remained stunned by the turn of events. Stunned and . . . uneasy.

"What are you doing here?" she asked Alexi.

"Is the tsar not having a small reception tonight in your and Niki's honor? How could I miss it?"

Carolyn smiled as they walked down the corridor. "Nicholas is in the hbrary. It has been a big scandal, you know."

"Ah, but the world is used to our scandals, and expects no less than blatant disregard for convention from a Sver-ayov."

She laughed. "Nicholas said the exact same thing."

They paused outside the library door. "And how is Ka-tya?" Alexi asked seriously.

Carolyn's smile faded. She thought of dear Taichili, whom she still grieved for. "She is distraught. Her mother is dead, and she not only knows what that means, she saw death herself in Moscow. But I am doing my best to be a good stepmother to her. For example, I have encouraged her to come into our bed at night when she has a bad dream."

"I see. Niki must love that," Alexi said, hiding a smile.

"Actually, he does," Carolyn said seriously, pushing open the library doors.

Nicholas was in conversation with an estate steward, the man having arrived only that morning. But he froze when he saw Carolyn, slowly rising from behind his desk. His gaze slid over her. Appreciation warmed his golden eyes.

Carolyn felt her cheeks heat again. She had never in her Ufe been clad in such finery, and the pale silver ball gown she wore did incredible things to both her complexion and

her figure. To hide her embarrassment and pleasure, she gave him a small, teasing curtsy.

He bit off a smile and bowed with the utmost severity. Then he dismissed the steward and strode forward, clasping Alexi warmly to his chest. The brothers drew apart with smiles. "I am glad you are here," Nicholas said.

"Nothing could keep me away. Congratulations, Niki. You have done exceedingly well for yourself."

Nicholas sent Carolyn a promising look. "Indeed."

"I am going to visit my niece. And by the by, Sasha is doing quite well. Six months from now, he will undoubtedly be as good as new." Alexi turned and strode from the room.

Nicholas shut the library doors, and slowly turned to face Carolyn. "You are exquisite," he said softly.

"I am nervous," she returned.

"It is only a small reception," he said, walking to her.

"Held in our honor—by the tsar!"

He took her hands, pulled her close, and began to kiss her. But Carolyn drew back. ' 'What is wrong?'' he asked.

She hesitated. "I don't know."

"Something has been bothering you, ever since we arrived here yesterday."

"You're right." She grimaced, then reached up to touch his cheek. ' Tt is not about us, Nicholas. It is just—''

"Just what?"

"This is a dream come true. And it seems too good to be true," Carolyn said urgently. "I cannot explain this feeling I have. But... I am afraid. Afraid this will not last."

His jaw was flexed. ' 'That is absurd. This will last. We are wed. This will last a lifetime."

But Carolyn was afraid, and her fear tainted her happiness. Somehow, for some reason she could not fathom, she expected the world to blow up in her face. Perhaps it was just her overly active imagination, hard at work because she had never had such happiness before, and there was so much to lose, but maybe it was her sixth sense, a premo-

nition of sorts. "I just keep thinking that something is going to happen, something terrible for you and me."

He stared at her. "Carolyn, what could possibly happen?" And then he pulled her forward, this time finding her lips with his and finishing the kiss he had intended to begin just a moment before.

And then they heard a woman screaming incoherently in the corridor. Her voice was not distinct. But Nicholas jerked away from her; Carolyn froze. "No," she whispered. "Absolutely not." It could not be Marie-Elena.

But the woman's hysterical voice grew louder and louder as she approached. Carolyn's heart had never, not even in Moscow, beaten like this. With such commanding force. Nicholas had lost all of his color. And the doors slammed abruptly open, crashing against the library walls—revealing Marie-Elena.

"I am not dead!" she screamed. "I am. hardly dead, you whore! Get away from my husband!"

Carolyn pulled her hands free from Nicholas, the numbness beginning, replacing the sick dread. She had known it. Known that this was coming. That was all she could think.

And Marie-Elena was a sight, as thin as a scarecrow, her hair hacked off above the shoulders, her face gaunt, a red, raw scar running from her temple to her jaw. One of her arms was bandaged from fingertips to shoulder and lashed to her body, her other hand was also completely bandaged. "Niki!'" She hurled herself at him and collapsed on his chest, sobbing hysterically.

Carolyn began backing away. Step by unfeeling step. There was no pain. There was only nothingness.

There were only shadows and darkness.

"I almost died! That fire, it was hell, I was so weak, what those men did to me, I could hardly drag myself from the house!" Marie-Elena wept. "My hands, my beautiful hands, ai'e burned beyond recognition. And my face! Did you see my face! God! They cut me, Niki, how they cut me!"

Unfeeling. Emotionless. How odd. It was like being a voyeur, observing a bizarre drama which left one entirely unaffected. Another step. And another one. And soon the drama would end. Soon there would be peace.

Peace . . . and nothingness.

Light, racing footsteps sounded in the hallway, and then Katya appeared as she raced around the door, her face alight. "Maman!" she cried. "Maman! Maman!"

But if Marie-Elena heard her daughter she gave no sign, continuing to weep on Nicholas's chest. Carolyn looked at him, the golden Russian prince. He was more than pale, he was greenish in coloring, his expression one of horror. Sheer, utter horror.

Katya ran forward, eager and joyful. "Maman! Maman! We thought you died! Maman!"

"Caro," Nicholas said hoarsely. "Don't go. We will work this out."

He had become a stranger, she did not know him, there was no reason to obey. But she watched the beautiful child cling to her mother's skirts—her mother, who convulsively gripped her husband's lapels as if thoroughly unaware of her own child.

A voyeur. An observer. Of an odd drama. That was what she was supposed to be. So why were there tears streaking down her cheeks? "Tell her," Carolyn said harshly, "that she must love her daughter." And she turned, stumbling from the room, and from his hfe.