To Dream of Snow (17 page)

If Sarah had not become such a good friend it would have been easy to dissolve the relationship between them just by giving her time to make other friendships among the wives in the English community. Then it would have been possible to make a gradual withdrawal from her life and Tom's too. But now that was impossible. Sarah's last words to her that evening had been an eager request for them to meet again soon.

Marguerite had a sickening feeling of being trapped. She had even promised Tom that she would be responsible for Sarah in his absence! If only this situation had not arisen! Everything had been going so well. She was enjoying her work as she had always done, her companions seemed content, and she was beginning to feel the same as Catherine towards Russia and its people. It was a relief to know Tom would be away now for some time and she could only hope that when he returned to the city he would have come to his senses. Neither of them wanted what had happened and there would be no lack of effort on her part to regain sanity.

Her thoughts turned to Jan van Deventer. When he returned she must try to make Tom believe that the Dutchman was important in her life. Although at first she had judged Jan to be a ‘here-today-and-gone-tomorrow' man as far as women were concerned, she was not now quite so sure as far as she herself was concerned. But Jacques was too much with her to think seriously about anyone else, which was all due to Tom stepping into her life. He must come to accept that their mutual attraction was pointless. Then her own struggle, however long it took, would be a completely private matter.

A
s soon as Tom had left for the Palace of Oranienbaum Marguerite and Sarah met often. Sometimes it was at their favourite coffee house or at one of the chocolate-drinking establishments, when not dining together at Sarah's home. There were occasions when Marguerite was kept away through working late on some special task. One evening Sarah spoke sadly of her failure to have children.

‘It is such a disappointment to both Tom and me. He has resigned himself to the fact that I'm barren, but for me there is a great gap in my life. My yearning for a child is a constant ache in my heart. I no longer speak of it to him, but it never goes away.'

‘My poor Sarah,' Marguerite said sympathetically. ‘I hadn't realized that you felt it so keenly.'

Sarah looked at her gratefully. ‘You are always such a compassionate listener. I knew you would understand.'

Now that the snow had gone, taking with it the last of the bitter cold and the strange aurora borealis from the night sky, the sun sometimes gave a gentle warmth. Yet although it was mid-April the trees still had naked branches and the grass remained winter-brown. The flower beds had been dug, but nothing had been planted yet. The only replanting to be seen was that of certain trees, which had been removed before winter into storage to save them from dying in the bitter cold. Some of the side canals had not yet thawed and along the Neva jagged clumps of ice, glittering and dancing, still swept along from the lake of their source out to the Gulf of Finland where they would finally melt away.

Marguerite, strolling with Sarah on a fine evening, thought what a contrast it all was to Paris where the trees would all be fluttering with fresh green foliage and spring flowers blossoming everywhere. Jacques had always given her a posy of the first violets.

Yet there was plenty of activity to watch on the river. Every kind of vessel was now coming and going while the ferryboats plied their trade again. Tall-masted ships were arriving from the outside world, discharging cargoes at the wharves and filling up their holds again with furs, coal, fish, grain, timber and iron. Sometimes the sight of an English ship filled Sarah with such homesickness that she felt almost ill from the force of it. Marguerite viewed the arriving vessels in a different light, wondering how soon it would be before a Dutch ship brought Jan back to St Petersburg.

By now Sarah had met many other English people, for not only did they all live in the same district, but they also gathered to play cards, hold soirées, musical evenings and parties. Since all the husbands were merchants or otherwise linked with trade their wives welcomed the Empress's embroiderer, who had made the now fabled peacock gown, with Sarah, into their social circle. They also enjoyed trying to pair her off with some of the single men, but Marguerite, who was still having tuition in English from Sarah, was privately amused by their efforts. Although the young men were pleasant enough, she only wished to extend her knowledge of the English language in conversation with them. Sarah was as disappointed as the rest of the wives.

‘What about that nice man you partnered at cards yesterday evening?' she said once.

‘Sarah!' Marguerite exclaimed genially, but warningly. ‘Leave matchmaking to others! Jan van Deventer should be returning to St Petersburg before long. I don't think he would be pleased to find I was seeing anyone else.'

‘Oh!' Sarah beamed with pleasure. Although Marguerite had spoken of him she had not suspected romance.

Marguerite gave a silent sigh of relief. The seed had been sown. She was certain Tom would be told in Sarah's next letter to him.

As April gave way to May the weather grew warmer, trees and grass became green, blossom burst forth in pink and white clusters on branches and flowers bloomed. There were also signs that the Court would soon be on the move again. When Marguerite was summoned by the Grand Duchess she was not expecting to receive some unwelcome news.

‘I have just heard that the Grand Duke and I will be leaving for Oranienbaum very soon.' Catherine had just returned from her daily ride and was still in her riding clothes. Although her face was flushed from the exercise, which she enjoyed so much, she seemed slightly distrait. ‘You shall come too. I have an informal gown there that I've always liked. It is so light to wear in summer. I want you to see it and make me some more in a similar style.'

Leaving the room, Marguerite sighed in exasperation at the instructions she had received. Firstly, Tom was still at Oranienbaum and he was the one person she least wanted to see again for a while. He had been home twice and on both occasions she had used work as an excuse to avoid seeing him. Secondly, such a simple task of copying a gown made by others should have been given to one of Agrippina's seamstresses and not to her.

In fact, there was no need for anyone to make the new garments at Oranienbaum since the original could have been sent for by now. In reality, Catherine most surely wanted her there for some other reason altogether. Was it possible that she suspected that she was with child again? An imperial heir this time whether or not it was Peter's or Sergei Saltykov's child. Marguerite shook her head. Catherine's love life certainly had its complications.

The following week the great exodus from the Palace began again, but only Catherine and Peter were going with their entourage to Oranienbaum. The Empress and her Court went off to the Summer Palace. It would be for the period of what was called the ‘White Nights' when summer daylight never left the sky and the sun kept the long hours of the north.

Marguerite, travelling with three maidservants in the grand ducal entourage, carried a letter and small package for Tom, which Sarah had given her, saying how much she wished she were going too. Marguerite also wished it, but for another reason entirely. Before departing she had left a good number of designs with Jeanne, who would deputize in her absence and could be trusted to see that everything was done to the peak of perfection.

As the journey neared its end it soon became apparent to Marguerite that the Palace of Oranienbaum would have splendid views of the Gulf of Finland, for they had been following a road alongside its shores for quite a way. When finally the Palace came into view with its many pillars and delicately moulded ornamentation it was as pretty as a porcelain piece, but on a vast scale with a pavilion topped by a golden pinnacle at each end. The sun was highlighting the intense blue of its walls and making the roof gleam silver from an earlier shower of rain.

Only the imperial and court coaches entered by the main gates, but as the rest took Marguerite and the others to an entrance to the rear of the Palace she could see that the great park was as pristine as if Tom had terrified every weed out of the ground. The beautiful trees, which he had mentioned, were all aquiver in rich green leaf and through the silvery gleam of birch groves there was the shimmer of a lake.

Watching the passing vistas, Marguerite inhaled the fresh, clean scents of grass and fern and damp bark that drifted in through the open window of the carriage. It made her realize how accustomed she had become to the city odours of St Petersburg and it was wonderful to be free of them.

Catherine was happy to be at Oranienbaum again, where she kept formal occasions at bay. All in the grand ducal court were young and lively, matching her and Peter's age, and apart from the usual pastimes of dancing and gambling there would be picnics, boating on the lake, riding through the sun-shadowed forests as well as taking part in innumerable open-air games that would make the summer slip by all too quickly. There was also the hilarious enjoyment of the Switchback Pavilion where rides could be taken on tray-like seats with wheels all the way down its outdoor switchback in a twisting and turning ride while spectators could watch and cheer from railed platforms. Catherine joined in every activity with energetic enthusiasm.

All too often the Empress in spiteful mood had restricted the grand ducal couple's social activities, wanting to isolate them from other young people whom they liked, often dominating them with her presence in their own palace. Yet this time they had been able to come freely to Oranienbaum. To add to Catherine's pleasure she knew she would have little contact with Peter, who – away from the Empress and the duties she imposed on him – would be able to devote as much time as he liked to his model soldiers as well as drinking himself insensible with his friends or his servants whenever the mood took him.

Every day from early morning she went riding, galloping off on her own into the forests and across the countryside. Nobody was concerned, knowing how she had always ridden alone whenever the opportunity had come her way. It had been the same ever since she had first come to Russia, having loved horses and riding wildly since childhood.

Speed exhilarated her. Feeling the wind whipping into her face as she urged on a fast horse, hooves thundering, and the leaping rise over obstacles in her path always replenished her joy in life, no matter how cast down in spirits she had been by Elisabeth's spite or Peter's petty harassment. There was an additional ecstasy in these present rides out of Oranienbaum. None suspected that each day they culminated at a certain meeting place in a forest of silver birch. There she flung herself out of the saddle into the waiting arms of Sergei Saltykov.

Before leaving St Petersburg a strange little interview had taken place at the Winter Palace. One of the Empress's ladies-in-waiting, although she had talked in a roundabout way, had made herself perfectly clear to Catherine. Elisabeth had accepted that Peter, in spite of the operation, was sterile. Therefore she was willing to accept a future heir to the Russian throne to be fathered by either Sergei Saltykov or another courtier whom she had also named.

Catherine had rejoiced in telling Sergei this news, but he had seemed less enthusiastic than she had expected. Uneasy doubts stirred in her mind as to whether he still loved her as much, but since her passion for him was far from assuaged she shut those uncertainties away.

Since only the aristocracy could wander in the park Marguerite, having nothing to do since she had not yet been shown the garment that Catherine wanted her to see, often went beyond the environs of the palace grounds. She would walk along the shore and stop to watch the ships passing along the Gulf and the local fisher folk busy with their nets. Sometimes she would follow paths in the forest, once glimpsing Sergei Saltykov riding on his own through the trees.

So far she had had no meeting with Tom, for she did not feel ready yet to see him again. On the first morning she had given Sarah's letter and package to a lackey for delivery to him. That would have told him she was here, even if Sarah in her innocence had not informed him in a letter, wanting them to spend time together.

Marguerite was never away long on her walks in case Catherine should return earlier than usual and remember to send for her, but it refreshed her to be on her own. This palace was like any other in being full of people, all members of the Court each having scores of servants. Fortunately she had a room to herself with a small sewing room adjacent to it, which so far had remained unused.

She was on her way back from one of her wanderings when a party of riders overtook her, also returning to the Palace. Then one wheeled his horse about and rode back to rein in as soon as he reached her. It was Konstantin Dashiski.

‘I thought it was you, Corporal Laurent!' he declared, smiling down at her. ‘Have you been taking part in any more battles for His Imperial Highness since I last saw you?'

She laughed, holding back a strand of her hair that was flicking in the breeze. ‘No, I'm thankful to say.'

He dismounted and, leading his horse, fell into step beside her, the other riders disappearing in the distance. This time he was in riding clothes and his wheat-coloured hair was unpowdered. ‘What are you doing here? I thought you were always shut away somewhere with a needle and thread.'

She explained and added, ‘I haven't been as idle as I am now for a long, long time.'

‘Then something must be done about that,' he said firmly.

‘You'll remind the Grand Duchess that I'm here?' she asked hopefully. ‘I haven't been able to get near her as she has been so occupied and everybody else has brushed my inquiries aside.'

He grinned. ‘No, that's not my intention. I mean it's our chance to spend time together. Do you ride? No? I'll teach you. You dance, I'm sure, and as there's dancing every evening, often in masks, I shall find a mask for you as my partner.'