To Dream of Snow (32 page)

The year slipped by into another, following much the same pattern as before, except that Marguerite included Jan on her guest list whenever she gave supper and card parties, as well as more formally when she had people to dine. The war continued with its ups and downs, although Frederick II was beginning to weaken, drawing back in many areas under Russian and Austrian pressure. All the time the new Winter Palace grew in size and grandeur like a glorious bud bursting into flower.

It was in the late summer that a great battle with many casualties was fought between the Russians and the Prussians. Shortly afterwards the Empress sent word to Marguerite that Konstantin had been wounded and was being brought back to St Petersburg. It was what Marguerite had feared all the time and she hoped desperately that he would survive the voyage home, for there were often as many dead as there were living when the ships came in.

When the estimated time drew near for his arrival she went to stand with others whenever a ship arrived, scanning those brought ashore on stretchers and looking into the faces of the walking wounded in their tattered uniforms, many of whom had to be helped ashore. Jeanne always accompanied her, hoping that Rose would have thought better of running away and taken the chance of a voyage home, for quite often camp followers helped with the nursing on board.

It was a September day full of pale sunshine when Marguerite and Jeanne stood together and watched the pathetic flow of stretchers and hobbling men come ashore. Then suddenly there was Konstantin being carried on a stretcher down the gangway.

‘There he is!' Marguerite exclaimed.

Jeanne watched her run to him, but he made no sign that he knew his wife. His head was bandaged and whatever other wounds he had suffered were hidden under a covering blanket. She saw Marguerite's grave expression as two grooms from the Dashiski carriage took over from the stretcher-bearers to carry him carefully. It was obvious that he was in too poor a state to be jerked about in a carriage over the cobbled streets and must be borne by hand.

Jeanne turned her attention back to the ship with little hope that Rose would appear, but she could not leave before she was sure. Suddenly she stiffened and her heart began to pound as she stared almost in disbelief at a one-legged soldier on crutches, his uniform torn and dark with old bloodstains, coming ashore. She took a tentative step forward and then another before suddenly breaking into a run.

‘Louis!' she screamed out.

He jerked up his head incredulously and exclaimed as if he were a boy again: ‘Maman!'

Reaching him, she wrapped her son in her arms and they wept together in their joy at their reunion. Her one thought was that although the war had taken away her daughter, it had given her back her son.

At the Dashiski house Marguerite had sent for Isabelle's husband, now Dr Legotin, and he came at once, bringing a young nurse with him. With her help, he cut away Konstantin's uniform and saw that his patient's body bore the scars of two healed minor wounds, but the one in his shoulder was festering badly. He cleaned it as best he could, Konstantin groaning with pain and scarcely conscious, before binding it up. Then Marguerite and the nurse bathed the patient, put fresh linen on the bed and put him into a nightshirt. Mikail stayed the whole time, giving a hand in the lifting, and deeply concerned as to whether Konstantin would recover.

‘Give him plenty to drink,' he advised both Marguerite and the nurse, who would be staying to help with the care, ‘because he lost a lot of blood when he suffered that wound, and try to feed him plenty of light and nourishing food. I'll look in again later.'

He left the room, but on the way downstairs he saw that in answer to some heavy knocking at the entrance it was being opened wide. Immediately he recognized one of the Empress's most important ministers, Count Batalov. He had come striding in, accompanied by four palace guards.

‘Where is Colonel Dashiski?' the Count demanded of the footman who had opened the door.

Mikail spoke out strongly, causing all in the hall to look up at him. ‘I'm Dr Legotin. My patient is very ill and cannot receive visitors.'

‘Her Imperial Majesty has been informed that he was on the ship that arrived today and I have instructions to remove him immediately to the Palace where he can be attended by her own doctors.'

Mikail spoke sternly. ‘You must go back to the Empress and explain that to move him again now could be fatal! He is in a very weak state.'

The Count regarded him contemptuously. ‘One does not question an order from the Empress! So get out of the way!' He moved to the foot of the flight.

‘No!' Marguerite had come to the head of the stairs. ‘Dr Legotin is right! I'll not allow it!'

The Count knew her and shook his head wearily. ‘Be reasonable, Madame Dashiski. I have no choice in this matter. Your husband is to be taken to the Palace immediately.' He began to mount the stairs. ‘I don't want to cause you or Count Dashiski any distress.'

‘Do you want to deliver him dead?'

He stopped and looked at her uncertainly. The doctor had already warned him. He could imagine the Empress's terrible wrath if Dashiski did die after he had ignored those warnings. ‘Very well.' He gave in reluctantly. ‘I shall inform Her Imperial Majesty.'

After he and those with him had gone she and Mikail exchanged smiles of relief.

‘Well done!' he said. ‘That fellow would never have taken notice of me. And take heart. We've a fight on our hands to pull Konstantin through, but we have a chance to break the fever now that it's certain he can stay where he is.'

Marguerite returned to Konstantin's bedside and sat down to continue to put cool damp cloths on his forehead. Once he opened his eyes and knew her. He raised a hand towards her and she took it.

‘I thought you were a dream, Marguerite,' he said almost inaudibly before closing his eyes again.

The nurse had returned with an egg-nog and managed to spoon a little into his mouth. He was sleeping again when once more there came a thunderous knocking on the door. Marguerite sprang up in alarm. Had the Count returned to repeat his demand? Once again she rushed to the head of the stairs and was in time to see the door opened to two palace guards, who promptly stepped in to stand rigidly to attention on each side of the entrance and it was the Empress herself who swept in. She looked up at Marguerite, her expression frantic.

‘Where is my darling boy? Is he really dying?'

‘My husband is sleeping,' Marguerite replied coolly.

The Empress was already on her way up the wide staircase, holding her skirts so that her twinkling feet were unhindered and at the same showing inadvertently her heavily swollen ankles. At the top of the flight she stood for a few moments to recover her breath, her hand pressed to her chest, before she was able to speak. ‘Take me to him!'

Marguerite led the way and signalled for the nurse to leave as the Empress burst into the room and flung herself down by the bedside in a billowing of skirts. She snatched up Konstantin's hand and pressed it to her lips.

‘Speak to me, my darling! Say that you know your beloved Elisabeth is here!'

Marguerite stood as if frozen, pressing her back against the wall in the shock of what she was hearing. Tom's words came back to her. Still the endearments flowed.

‘You must not die, dearest heart! How would I live without your loving arms?'

Konstantin stirred and his eyes opened. As when he had looked at Marguerite, there was momentary recognition. He mumbled something, although neither woman comprehended what he said. Yet Elisabeth took his response eagerly.

‘Yes, you know me and you will get well and strong again. I shall take you with me now and care for you myself.' She began rising to her feet.

‘I cannot allow it!' Marguerite stepped forward. ‘The doctor insisted he is not to be moved.'

Elisabeth swung round, her eyes blazing and struck Marguerite full across the face. ‘How dare you forbid me, seamstress!' she thundered. ‘Konstantin does not belong to you! Nothing belongs to you! Not this house or anything in it! All of it is mine! He spent his last night before going to war with me!' She prodded a finger into her own chest. ‘You've only had him as a husband because I allowed him a wife! Now I'm taking him back where he belongs to get well again!'

She made for the door, giving Marguerite a great thrust out of her way as she went from the room. Descending the stairs, she gave orders to the guards below. They in turn signalled to two more, who had been waiting outside with a stretcher. They came running up the flight to take the sick man from his bed. Marguerite had to watch helplessly as Konstantin was wrapped in a blanket and then carried from the room. She went to the window and saw him placed along the seat of the waiting coach, the Empress cradling his head in her lap.

The nurse had returned to the room and as Marguerite looked dully towards her she hurried across. ‘Your lip is cut, madame! There is blood! Let me see to it.'

Marguerite sat numbly while the nurse tended to her. She supposed one of Elisabeth's rings had slashed her and she could feel that her lip was swollen. But that was nothing compared with all that had been revealed during that terrible scene.

She had truly believed that there was no longer anything between Konstantin and the Empress, no matter what had happened in the past, but now she realized that he had lied to her consistently, even to telling her that he had purchased their house himself. Instead, it had been given to him by his lecherous benefactress, together with everything else. How could he have been so weak, so greedy? Yet she knew the answer. The truth was that he had never been able to free himself from the spell that Elisabeth could cast over men.

When Mikail called in later he was dismayed to hear that Konstantin had been taken away after all. He also saw that Marguerite was still in a state of shock and tried to cheer her.

‘I trained under one of the imperial doctors. Dr Samsonov is a good man. I'm sure he will do his best for your husband.'

She nodded. ‘I know he'll not lack care.'

‘Would you like to invite me to have a glass of cognac with you?'

She was jerked out of her lethargy as he had hoped. ‘Forgive me! I should have offered you some refreshment from the start.' Then she smiled, realizing that he thought it was she who was in need of it. ‘I'll pour it myself for both of us.'

He sat with her for quite a while and she was glad of his company.

‘Shall you visit Colonel Dashiski tomorrow?' Mikail asked.

She shook her head. ‘After what happened here with the Empress today I think the Palace will be barred to me.'

‘Was it so bad?'

‘Worse than anything you could imagine.' She touched her cut lip significantly.

He whistled under his breath. ‘I see what you mean! But I'll find out your husband's condition from Dr Samsonov and report to you.'

‘Will there be anything to report, do you suppose?' she asked anxiously.

He hesitated. ‘He should not have been moved, of course. But he survived the voyage, even though the state of his wound had deteriorated on the way. Provided his fever subsides and his strength is built up again we can allow ourselves to be hopeful.'

After Mikail had left again she wandered aimlessly about the house, remembering how she had gradually come to find pleasure in its graceful rooms and fine proportions. Now it seemed like a prison. Yet, in spite of her bitter disillusionment, she would have to stay until Konstantin was on the path to recovery. His life was at stake and if he should express a wish to see her in extreme circumstances she would go to him. The Empress would not deny his request.

Before she went to bed a note from Jeanne was delivered, giving the good news of finding her son, who had been fighting as a mercenary in various conflicts over the intervening years. Marguerite was so glad for them both and read the note twice over.

When finally she went to make ready for bed she sat for a long time looking at Jan's painting. Once again it was like an anchor to her. Something to contemplate and ponder over, always intriguing her even while it gave her peace. She knew that even if Jan had been in St Petersburg, she would not have turned to him this time in her troubles. This was a matter she had to sort out for herself and her whole future depended on it.

Several weeks went by before word came from the Palace that Marguerite was permitted to visit the invalid. She went full of trepidation that Konstantin had taken a turn for the worse, for he had hovered between life and death for quite a while before Mikhail's reports had begun to be hopeful. She found Konstantin in bed still looking very ill with an almost translucent pallor beneath the remains of his tan. He was propped up against pillows in a room in the Empress's apartment. He gave the bedcovers a pat for her to sit down there and she did as he wished.

‘Why haven't you been to see me?' he demanded irritably in greeting, not noticing that she had failed to kiss him. ‘I've asked for you to come many times.'

She had no intention of worrying him with the true facts of the case in his present condition. ‘I believe you were too ill at first to have any visitors. We can talk about all the other reasons when you are home again.'

‘Nothing wrong, is there?' he inquired querulously with a frown.

‘Everything is in order.'

‘Good.' Then his expression softened, showing his pleasure in seeing her. ‘I've missed you, Marguerite. I want to come home, but I haven't put a foot out of bed yet. The Empress fusses over me all the time. It's almost as if she relishes having me shut up here all to herself.' He raised himself up, catching at her hand. ‘See if you can get those damn doctors to say I can come home.' Then he fell back again on the pillows, momentarily exhausted by the small exertion he had made.

‘I'll do my best.' It seemed to her that the Empress had taken jealous possession of him as she had done with both of Catherine's children. ‘But I must go now. I was only allowed two or three minutes.'