To Dream of Snow (10 page)

She had been on a family visit with her parents to Kiel when she and Peter had first met as children. Then Peter, a weedy-looking boy, had been growing up under the strict supervision of army officers in a military environment and for a short while they had enjoyed each other's company as they played with his toy fort and wooden soldiers. Much later she had been pleased to hear that the Empress of Russia, whose nephew he was, had chosen him to be her heir. She had not known then that he would hate Russia and loathe the Empress for taking him away from his beloved Prussia, which meant everything to him.

She had been even happier when told she was to marry him, for she visualized the glorious day when they would be the Tsar and Tsarina of Russia and together would rule wisely and well. Yet there was a shock awaiting her when they met again at the Imperial Court. She could have overlooked his growing up to be an ugly youth, badly scarred from the smallpox that had almost taken his life, but he was so changed in his nature. With wisdom beyond her years she had realized instantly that if she let love grow out of her childhood fondness for him her life would be totally wretched till the end of her days.

He had become eccentric in all his acts and mannerisms, often giving loud bursts of maniacal laughter at anything slightly untoward. Ruthless German discipline and harsh punishments in his upbringing seemed to have given him a taste for cruelty and he ill-treated his servants and his pet dogs almost daily for the perverted pleasure of it. Once he had hanged a rat in her room and she shuddered at the memory of his excitement and high-pitched taunting at the creature's struggles.

It was because he came often to her bed that it was thought by all but the most discerning that relations were normal between them. The truth was very different. He always came with his dressing-robe pockets full of toy soldiers to play war games with her, the hobby of his childhood now an obsession, and the humps of their knees under the covers made the hills and valleys of the battle areas. She often thought to herself that there was not a fighting stratagem or battle manoeuvre that she did not know.

Peter had liked to lie boastingly to her and to others of his conquests of women, covering up his own inadequacy, and loyally she never derided him in private or in public. But it was reports of his supposed sexual rapacity that had convinced the Empress that she had a barren daughter-in-law. It was only recently, after it had been disclosed to the Empress that her heir was impotent, that a simple cut of a surgeon's knife had finally enabled Peter to perform his husbandly duties. Fortunately he preferred other women, for which she was thankful.

Easing her agitated pacing, Catherine went across to the window. It gave her a fine vista of the city, but she hoped that when the new Winter Palace was built she would have a view of the Neva, where there was so much to see at all times of the year.

Catherine sighed softly. She hoped so much that the Frenchwoman's fashion devices would keep her secret. Her greatest fear was that the Empress might discover that her pregnancy was more advanced than it should be, making it impossible for the offspring within her to be Peter's child. Her punishment would be banishment from this vast and wildly beautiful country with its great forests and steppe land. She loved Russia and had done everything to make herself one with it, learning the language and adopting the Russian Orthodox religion, neither of which Peter had ever done. He had never attempted to make himself likable to her or anyone else except his mistresses. In fact, jealous of her popularity, he had come to hate her as much as he loathed the Empress.

From the early days after she had arrived at court, despite her young age, she had had the wisdom to see that she would need to gain the loyalty of all the people, whatever their station in life, if she was to help her erratic husband rule successfully when the time came. She also learned how to hide from the world all the hurt and disappointments she suffered. It was a valuable lesson and, even now, none could tell how much in love she was with a court chamberlain named Sergei Saltykov.

At the age of twenty-three, after she had endured eight years of unconsummated marriage and resisted many advances from other men, Sergei's persistent and amorous pursuit had finally won her. He had awakened her intensely sensual nature to ecstatic realms and she was forever finding new ways of her own to pleasure him in his turn. In many ways she had never been happier or more despairing.

The atelier was all that Marguerite had hoped for, consisting as it did of two large rectangular rooms painted a creamy colour with plenty of windows and a great stock of candle-lamps. Long tables gave ample room for cutting and pressing while the chairs were padded and comfortable. Dressmakers' dummies of the Empress's and the Grand Duchess's figures had been brought from among those in the established sewing rooms elsewhere in the Palace and were up to date, one with an ample bust line and the other youthfully slim. There were minor additions to be made to the atelier before Marguerite was entirely satisfied, but these were only a matter of extra shelves, better ironing facilities and more chests of drawers and cupboards, for she liked work space to be kept as clear as possible.

The Grand Duchess had emphasized comfort for the seamstresses' own rooms and this had been faithfully carried out. Redundant furniture that had seen better days enriched the three bedrooms and the living room. There was still the gleam of gilt in the ornate frames of slightly patchy mirrors and a touch of splendour in the faded silk curtains at the windows, the bed draperies caught back by great golden tassels. The dining table, its surface ringed from wine and scored by careless treatment, nevertheless still had a polish and six accompanying chairs arranged around it. There were three sofas offering more comfortable seating and wide rugs, slightly moth-eaten in places, had been rediscovered somewhere to cover the floors. An ormolu clock and two figurines had been placed on a side table.

Catherine, ever concerned with the well-being of those who worked for her, had not overlooked the necessity of the newcomers' wages and Marguerite was called to the office of a palace official to receive the seamstresses' first wages in advance. Her own salary was particularly generous and the others were overjoyed to find they were to earn more than ever before. To Marguerite's relief they were equally pleased with everything else. As there were three beds in one room Jeanne chose it to share with her daughter and Isabelle, the two girls wanting to be together, while Violette and Sophie took another, leaving Marguerite to have a room on her own. It was small, but that was unimportant. After constant company over so many weeks it was a relief to have space to herself and some solitude.

In spite of Catherine's wish to have new gowns there proved to be no time to make them. The Empress, deeply pious in spite of her licentious ways, suddenly decided she would leave for Moscow sooner than planned, as she wanted to go first to the great church of Kiev for penance and prayers. Her decision resulted in Marguerite and her fellow seamstresses working long hours and finally overnight to alter the gowns for Catherine that had already been made. Bodices had bones removed and a more pliable stiffening added where necessary while fringes, frills of lace, ruffles, flowers and bunches of ribbons were either changed or added, the sparkling beads and spangles having their own trickery for deceiving the eye. There were even button loops that could be loosened to expand.

Just before the day of leaving St Petersburg the Empress sent for Marguerite. As she guessed, Catherine had chosen her moment to tell Elisabeth of her arrival with her team of seamstresses and that they were now installed. Entering the imperial presence, Marguerite curtsied deeply before she straightened up again and looked for the first time at the woman who alone ruled over all the vast lands of Russia.

Elisabeth, dressed in midnight-blue velvet trimmed with fur, turned from her reflection in a mirror, the wide, side panniers of her gown making her skirt extend far beyond her hips. A tall woman of immense presence, she was startlingly beautiful. The depth of her handsome blue eyes was echoed in the sapphires that encircled her throat and glowed in her powdered hair.

‘So it was you who made that lilac gown for the Comtesse d'Oinville,' Elisabeth said almost accusingly in a deep rich voice. ‘Tell me, what have you made for her since?'

Marguerite was startled. It was always expected of a seamstress that she would be priest-like in her silence over what had been made for a client. No woman wanted anyone else to know what she would be wearing for special occasions. She answered evasively. ‘Many gowns in a variety of colours and fabrics, Your Imperial Majesty.'

‘Whatever their style I want you to make even more beautiful creations for me!'

Her meaning was entirely clear to Marguerite. Whatever the Comtesse wore the Empress wanted to be sure of outshining her and Marguerite had all the fore-knowledge to ensure it.

There followed a tense half-hour for Marguerite as she made suggestions that were either received with a nod or rejected with an impatient gesture. She had made some sketches to illustrate her ideas and had dressed several mannequin dolls to display styles in miniature. Fortunately Elisabeth's love of clothes enabled her to picture every idea presented to her. Eventually she dismissed Marguerite with instructions that all the gowns were to be ready for her by the time the Court returned from Moscow.

Outside the apartment Marguerite paused to regain her breath after the strain of the Empress's demanding attitude. Since the date of that imperial return from Moscow was not yet known Marguerite decided that work must start the next day on these new clothes. It was far better to have everything ready as quickly as possible than to be caught out with half of it unfinished.

On the day of the Court's departure the seamstresses gathered at upper windows to watch the scene below. The Empress's sledge, painted in scarlet and gold with the Romanov arms of the double-headed eagle emblazoned on its sides, had a sleeping compartment, as did those occupied by the Grand Duke and Duchess. A thousand horses from the great stables were hitched to the grand sledges as well as to those that would be transporting servants and goods, Igor having told them that household effects always went too. Porcelain dinner services, bed linen, tapestries and even favourite furniture went from palace to palace to supplement what was already there.

It gave Marguerite a better understanding of the neglect she had seen in the Palace. Organization and getting things done on time, no matter how many servants were available to do it, was something that became lost in the general mêlée of court life. Perhaps those who should have been responsible left it to others or, even more easily, always postponed everything till the morrow.

The great procession started forward. In the streets people bowed low, many falling to their knees and some prostrating themselves in the snow in the old tradition as the imperial sledge approached. Elisabeth was seen as the mother of their country and they loved her loyally and unquestioningly, even the poor serfs in their ignorance never daring to question her abundant wealth and their own hand-to-mouth existence.

The seamstresses were not alone in watching the magnificent departure. Sergei Saltykov stood at another window on a lower floor. Tall and good-looking, his dark brows were clamped together in a worried frown. He found it surprising that he was still violently attracted to Catherine, for the collapse of his own marriage of less than two years ago had been yet another example of how he lost interest after conquest. Yet her spell remained and now her pregnancy threatened terrible consequences for him. If it came out that he was responsible he could find himself either behind bars for years or sent to some godforsaken place for the rest of his days.

He swore under his breath. If only that wretched Peter had agreed six months ago to that simple operation none would have doubted that he was the father, but the snivelling coward had had be made dead drunk after an evening carousing with friends before it could be performed by a waiting surgeon. Now, all because of that delay, he himself had to be prudent and stay away from the Court for a while to avoid being seen with Catherine and arousing suspicion. It meant missing the nights of gaming for high stakes that he so enjoyed apart from all the festivities and riotous merrymaking.

Groaning, Sergei slammed a fist against the wall before swinging away from the window and leaving the room.

T
wo weeks had gone by since Marguerite and her seamstresses had been given their own quarters. It had been a busy time, but they were getting accustomed to working in their new environment. On the first day she had been given a key to access the store of fabrics destined to become imperial garments, and she had chosen a rich gold silk for the Empress's first gown in the French style. It had already been cut out from one of her own designs and the basic work had been done in the making of the sleeves, bodice and skirt, which would remain separate until the embroidery on them was finished. She had yet to visit the other atelier, and had asked Madame Rostova to arrange a meeting for her with the supervisor there.

Before that took place Marguerite planned to give her seamstresses a full day to enjoy themselves. They had not yet been out of the Palace and her only outing had been the day Igor had guided her to the French Embassy. They all needed a chance to look around the city and get their bearings.

They greeted the news of it with excitement and some trepidation. All well wrapped up, they set out with Marguerite into the ice-cold air. There was much to see and admire, but it was the busy markets that drew them. Street performers supplied music and a ragged old dancing bear was doing its best. Never before had the Frenchwomen seen such a strange sight as the food stalls. There was plenty of dried and salted meat and fish for sale, but otherwise the fresh joints of meat were frozen hard, as were chickens, geese and game, all stiff as boards and aglitter with frost. Isabelle and Violette tried to prod them, astounded as they all were that food could be sold in such a way, but they realized that in such a cold climate anything would freeze and it was to be expected.