The Ice King (16 page)

“I shall look forward to it very much," Tanya said sincerely.

Vladimir actually allowed his face to lapse into a full smile, revealing a row of even white teeth and looking remarkably handsome, and then he glanced towards the door and said very quietly, "Nikolai Ilyich has just come in." His eyes met Tanya's and she saw nothing there but kindness and concern. If Boris had referred to the Colonel, then Boris was mistaken.

She was sure her colour must have risen, but she managed to say, "He must be better, then," and look in his direction with reasonable calm. He met her eyes across the room and regarded her in his old sombre, melancholy way. She was torn between a strong wish to give him a friendly smile, and the fear that if she did so he would think . . . but before she had arrived at deciding what he might think, Vladimir said loudly, "Hallo there! I thought you were dining at the Palace tonight!"

“No, that's tomorrow night," Prince Nikolai replied, naturally crossing over to join Vladimir and Tanya. "As you know very well!" he added quietly, giving the Colonel a very straight look. Vladimir's face was quite blank again, and he looked equally straightly back at the Prince, and then gave the slightest possible flicker of one eyelid.

Prince Nikolai turned his attention to Tanya and said, "Good evening," in a hesitant, questioning tone.

“Good evening, Nikolai Ilyich," Tanya replied, giving him her hand and the smile she had been uncertain about before. He lifted her hand to his lips, his eyes on her face, and then, presumably feeling the embroidered flowers on the back of her glove, glanced down at it and said, "They fit you well."

“Yes," she replied, "they were a very pretty gift, and so were the flowers. We were
all
so pleased to receive them. Thank you very much.”

Apparently he realised what she was trying to convey to him, for his melancholy air lifted and he began to look almost cheerful.

Boris came over at that moment, kissed Tanya's hand and bade her "Good evening," without his usual languishing glance, and greeted the two men, then excused himself and went on to speak to Countess Maria.

“You haven't fallen out with Boris, have you?" Prince Nikolai asked, sounding quite concerned.

“That would be very difficult!" Tanya replied. "You know that Marisha will be officially Out the day after tomorrow, when you give your ball for her, and Boris realises that it's time for him to stop flirting." Prince Nikolai gave her a questioning look, and she added, "He was only amusing himself."

“And you?" he asked.

“It amused me very much," Tanya replied. "I'd never been flirted with before. It was quite a novel experience."

“If I thought he'd hurt you . . ." Prince Nikolai began in such a low voice that Tanya could hardly hear the words.

“Not at all!" she said firmly. "I didn't mistake it for anything else.”

Count Tutaev's major-domo had just announced that dinner was served, and the Count was busily marshalling his guests in the right order. He called to Prince Nikolai to take in a very beautiful and elegantly-dressed lady with a magnificent sapphire parure. Prince Nikolai said hurriedly to Tanya, "I am
not
amusing myself!" and went in obedience to the summons, leaving Tanya in a state of some confusion, wondering if he could possibly have meant .. .

“Afraid you'll have to make do with me," Vladimir said apologetically, offering her his arm.

“Oh, Vladimir!" Tanya exclaimed. "It's not a matter of 'making do' at all! I'm quite happy to go in with you!"

“Under any other circumstances, I'd be very pleased to hear that," the Colonel said pensively as they joined the procession to the dining-room. Tanya gave him an enquiring look, and he said ruefully, "That was meant to be a compliment, but it didn't come out quite right!”

- The Tutaevs' dining-room was attractively and unusually decorated with groups of girls in Grecian draperies dancing in various formations painted life-sized in pretty pastel colours on the white walls. At one end was a large semi-circular bay the whole width of the room, the windows hidden now by long blinds, each with one dancing girl painted on it. At the other end, over the door by which the guests entered, was a gallery where an orchestra played during the meal.

The table was very long and the guests were seated with the ladies on one side of it and the gentlemen on the other, in the old Russian style. Tanya found herself between Countess Maria and a porcelain-pretty blonde with a most attractive lisp, and opposite Vladimir, who had Boris on one side of him and a stout, red-faced man with spectacles on the other - a Count Bezuhov, or some such name. The latter said hardly a word all through the meal, but gave his full attention to the food set before him, and Boris was also surprisingly quiet. He made polite conversation with his neighbours and to the ladies opposite, but cast not a single flirtatious glance, even at the blonde, the whole time.

Towards the end of the meal he remarked that his sister was expected to arrive in Petersburg the next day.

“What, little Olga?" Vladimir said. "How's that?"

“Father has been promising her a Season these past two years, but every time anything is arranged, my mother falls ill and can't spare her," Boris replied. "I hope she manages it this time. She'll be staying with our Aunt Dorya, who will take her about a bit, so she'll have a few balls and parties before the Season ends. She's nineteen now, and it's time she saw something of the world."

“Is she Out, then?" Countess Maria asked.

“Yes and no," Boris replied. "She's been going about in Moscow a little, but she knows hardly anyone there, and she's very shy.”

Prince Nikolai was sitting at the far end of the table from Tanya, and she could not even see him without craning her neck in an unseemly manner, which, of course, she couldn't do. After dinner he went with some of the gentlemen to the Count's study, while Tanya went to the drawing-room with Countess Tutaeva and the other ladies, and so she only saw him again for a second or two as she was leaving. He went up to her and said hurriedly, "I'll be at the Palace all day tomorrow, but I shall see you at Marisha's ball on Friday?"

“Yes. We're all looking forward to it very much," Tanya replied breathlessly.

“I have to go away the day after."

“Away?" Tanya experienced an odd lurching sensation. "To Novgorod."

“Shall . . . shall you be away long?" She looked down at her hands, which were clenched tightly on the handle of her reticule. She was afraid to look up at his face in case her own gave her away, for she felt a dreadful sinking of her spirits at the news that he was going away, when she had only a little more than three weeks left before she must go from St. Petersburg.

“About a week," he replied. "I'll be back for the review.”

There was no time for more, but as Tanya followed Maria out into the portico, she cast one glance back at him, and he gave her a sudden, unexpected smile, which made her feel a little less unhappy.

The next day seemed one long series of crises. Marisha was very much better and there was no danger of her being unable to go to her ball, but when her white silk and tarlatan gown came home from the dressmaker's, it was found to be quite three inches too long, and her maid had strong hysterics at the mere thought of trying to shorten it. So Tanya took courage, a pair of scissors and a deep breath, and cut off the buckram stiffening round the hem, pinned the skirt to the proper length, and spent the afternoon stitching away at the new hem and replacing the buckram. Countess Maria's maid burnt her mistress' ear with the curling-tongs, Fedor returned from Gatchina with his arm in a sling, having sprained his wrist in a tumble while skating, Count Alexei mislaid his snuffbox and turned the house upside-down searching for it, Irina fell downstairs and bruised her knees, and one of the Borzois misbehaved in the middle of the entrance-hall floor.

Nikita was standing in an awe-inspiring manner at the foot of the stairs directing the cleaning-up of the small puddle and supervising the two footmen who were trying to catch the dog, who thought it a fine game and bounded round the hall barking, when Boris arrived with his sister Olga.

Vladimir had come a few minutes before and was in the sitting-room with Countess Maria and Tanya, and all three came out on to the gallery to see what was going on. They found Boris attempting to catch the great hound by spreading out his cloak on either side of him and shaking his beaver hat at it, while the animal twisted and turned and barked all the more. It stopped for a moment for a better bark, and a slim figure darted out from the shelter of the entrance doorway and seized its collar, the hood of her cloak falling back as she did so to reveal a mass of dark ringlets arranged a
la Madonna,
a very pretty oval face and a pair of large dark-brown eyes.

“Good heavens! It's little Olga!" Vladimir exclaimed in a hushed voice, and he ran down the stairs like an avalanche to take hold of the hound's collar. The girl looked up at him shyly, an uncertain smile hovering on her lips, and he looked down at her and said gruffly, "You were a skinny little thing with freckles the last time I saw you. What happened?"

“She grew older," Boris said a trifle tartly. "It comes to us all, but unfortunately, we don't all become pretty — at least, some of us don't," with an expressive look at Vladimir, who was still holding the Borzoi's collar and gazing at Olga in a mesmerised fashion, at which she blushed becomingly and hung her head.

She was indeed
a
shy girl, but very pretty, with a strong resemblance to her brother. She answered in a quiet, pleasant voice when anyone spoke to her, but seemed content to sit and listen to the conversation of the others, looking from one to another with her great dark eyes intent on their faces. She looked serious and
a
little overwhelmed, and Vladimir, normally so phlegmatic and expressionless, gazed at her in a state of trance all through her visit.

When all the visitors had gone, Countess Maria said privately to Tanya, "Well, would you credit it? One look from the top of the stairs, and the poor man's practically at her feet, and she didn't so much as lift a finger! Vladimir Sergeivich, of all people!"

“I rather suspected that he has a heart like butter under that stern exterior!" Tanya replied. "I hope it prospers for him — but did you notice the funniest part of it? He was gazing at Olga all the time, and I do believe that Boris didn't even notice, for he was too taken up with Marisha!"

“Oh dear! Two of your admirers fallen away!" Countess Maria was half laughing, half serious. "Do you mind, Tanya?”

Tanya's warm smile was perfectly genuine. "Not in the least! They were both only being kind to me — I've never thought otherwise.”

The day of the ball dawned, in a manner of speaking; late, overcast, cold and promising more snow. Marisha's gown, freshly pressed, was tried on and pronounced perfect. A footman from Count Tutaev's house brought round Count Alexei's snuffbox, which had been found in his master's study. No further disasters occurred at the Kirovs', and they arrived at the Volkhov Palace in good time, well before the first guests were expected, and had leisure to look around the transformation Prince Nikolai's servants had wrought in the house.

The entrance-hall and staircase were ablaze with light, and flowering plants bloomed profusely against the marble walls. The ballroom was like something from a fairy-tale, the crystal chandeliers blazing, each drop freshly washed and polished; the floor was like a skating-rink, dainty gilt chairs and sofas were set against the walls and the orchestra was tuning itself up on a dais at the end, surrounded by pink and white flowers to complement Marisha's white gown with its trimming of pink moss-roses.

Prince Nikolai was looking exceptionally cheerful and handsome in a dark-blue velvet coat and white small-clothes, his diamond-studded Order and blue ribbon. He complimented Marisha on her charming toilette and gave Tanya a look which told her without any words being necessary that he thought her amber silk vastly becoming, and made her catch her breath and feel a little giddy.

When the guests began to arrive, Fedor and Tanya went to the ballroom, leaving Count Alexei, Countess Maria and Prince Nikolai with Marisha at the head of the stairs to receive more than two hundred people, the cream of St. Petersburg society, including the two younger Grand Dukes, Nikolai and Mikhail Pavlovich, and the former's beautiful wife, the Grand Duchess Alexandra Fedorovna.

Fedor made shift to dance with Tanya, despite his injured and painful wrist, and as usual, she was not lacking in partners. When Vladimir arrived to claim her for a gavotte, she said mischievously, "I hardly dared hope you might have a dance to spare for me, Vladimir Sergeivich!"

“I like dancing with you," he replied. "I like talking to you, as well. I'm not much of a hand at social chatter, and you don't mind a bit of Army talk."

“Boris and Olga have just come in," Tanya said, catching sight of them as she moved round her partner in one of the figures orthe dance. Vladimir turned his head to look and trod on her toe without noticing that he had done so.

“D'you think I'm making a fool of myself?" he asked.

“Not in the least," Tanya replied. "She's a remarkably pretty girl."

“I took quite a fancy to her before, when I spent a leave with Boris and his family in Moscow, four years ago," Vladimir admitted, "when she was all elbows and freckles. I often find myself thinking about her." He spoke in a very natural, unselfconscious way, and Tanya was happy to realise that he found it easy to confide in her.

By the time most of the guests had arrived it was time for the Imperial party to depart, as they had several other visits to make that evening, and so it was nearly halfway through the evening before Prince Nikolai was able to break away from his hostly duties and seek out a partner. Tanya was standing with Boris, Olga and, of course, Vladimir, laughing at something Boris was telling them, but she turned towards Prince Nikolai as he approached and he led her on to the floor and into the dance with no more than a look and a smile.