The Summer Day is Done (33 page)

‘Completely delightful, sir.’

‘But I shall be glad to get to bed.’

This was friendly but meaningless. Kirby looked at Olga. She had her eyes on the dancers, on the colour and magic of the waltz. She should be dancing herself. He had thoughtfully avoided signing her card for the final number. He did not want Alexandra to shake her head. The Empress would be bound to ask.

Olga had one white slipper thrust forward, it was tapping. Kirby looked at the Tsar’s officers. They were relaxed but oblivious.

‘Highness?’

Olga turned her head. Her look plainly told him what she thought of that. He put out his hand, she laid her gloved fingers on his arm.

‘With your permission, sir?’ he said to Nicholas.

‘Tatiana tells me you dance divinely for a man with a wooden leg,’ said Nicholas and burst into laughter.

Kirby faced Olga preparatory to leading her into the rhythm.

‘I thought,’ he began but Olga shook her shining head.

‘Oh, yes,’ she said calmly, ‘it’s dreadfully risky to dance three times with me and only twice with Tatiana. I wrote your name in for the
waltz. Do you think I’m a Grand Duchess for nothing?’

They danced the waltz. The light from the chandeliers, seemingly reflected by a million jewels, soared in final brilliance as the flame of a candle soars just before dying. It bathed the dancers in incandescence. But Olga’s radiance was muted, her lustrous head bent, her eyes lowered. She said nothing to all his attempts at light converse.

‘Olga?’

She did not answer.

‘Olga?’

Her hand tightened on his shoulder. They stopped. She took her hand from his shoulder and rested it on his arm, her eyes on the open glass doors that led to the terraces and down to the gardens. They walked from the heat of the ballroom into the cool quietness of the night. There was no moon, there was only darkness and silence. The palace was warm with light behind them, Livadia velvet with night before them. Still she said nothing, but he felt her gloved hand moving down his arm. He took her hand, her fingers closed around his and clung.

‘Olga, are you unhappy?’

She spoke very softly then.

‘I am never unhappy when you are here.’ She hesitated and suddenly rushed into words jerky and impulsive. ‘But we were dancing and the ball was nearly over. I thought how you had been in such neglect of us, you wouldn’t have come if— oh, did you think I’d consent to let you stay away, did you think I’d consent to dance the
waltz with someone else? Papa had his own way of showing you that until I’m a Crown Princess I’m free to dance with whom I most wish to. You did not dare to let me stand neglected in front of him.’

He could not speak. The clasp of her fingers, the break in her voice and the intensity of his love bound his tongue. His arm was touching her shoulder. He was close, too close, to the warmth and softness of her.

‘Colonel Kirby? Please?’ Her voice was a whisper.

He looked down at her upturned face. The glitter of her tiara was subdued by the night, outshone by the glitter of her tears.

‘What is it, Olga, what must I say?’

‘That you’ll never neglect me again, I cannot bear it.’

He had hurt her more than he had realized.

‘Neglect you? Olga, I love Russia as much as I love my own country, and I cherish the Imperial family more than any other. I shall come to see you and your sisters get married, I’ll be there to see you become the loveliest Crown Princess of all. I shall be there on all these occasions, whether I’m invited or not. I can’t be neglectful, Olga, though I can be imperfect.’

She did not respond to that for a moment, then she said shakily, ‘And if I don’t choose to become a Crown Princess?’

‘Then you’ll play another part for your country. I shall watch you grow into a most stately Grand Duchess, I’ll come to all your birthday balls, and you’ll still be dancing even
when you’re old – but only with those whom you most wish to. By then I’ll probably have two wooden legs.’

Her smile was tremulous. It flickered, was gone, and came again.

‘Yes, perhaps we’ll both become very old and doddering, but we shall still have fun, we shall still laugh together, and we will always be the dearest friends, will we not?’

‘Always, Olga.’

They walked in the night gardens and they talked until Olga was happy again. They stood on the terrace to watch the carriages drawing up to take away departing guests, and when the palace was finally quiet they went in. The Tsar was just retiring with Tatiana, but Tatiana broke away to go swiftly and affectionately to her sister, saying, ‘Olga, how exciting it all was, but now, whew! I’m quite done up.’ She hugged Olga’s arm and glanced up at Kirby. He smiled. It was the tenderest and warmest of smiles. And Olga was smiling too. But Tatiana thought her eyes were suspiciously bright.

Kirby went up the wide, shining staircase with them, Tatiana slipping her arm through his and talking her tongue away. The familiarity of the gesture, harmless though it was, gave Olga queer hurt. Kirby said goodnight to them. Tatiana extended her hand in the grand manner, he bowed and kissed her gloved fingers.

‘Oh, you are quite delicious, Ivan,’ laughed Tatiana and came up on tiptoe to kiss his face. Olga turned away.

In their bedroom, simply furnished by
comparison with guest rooms, Olga took her sister by the shoulders.

‘Tasha, how you can dare I do not know!’

‘But, Olga, what is it I can’t dare?’

‘You know what. To truly hurt me. Oh, you’re so much prettier than I am.’

Tatiana stared.

Oh, goodness, Olga was unhappy again.

‘Olga, oh, you silly, you must stop this,’ she said. ‘You should have heard what everyone, just everyone, said about you tonight, then you’d know who was prettier. And your Colonel Kirby, as you
will
call him, simply adores you, he said so.’

The betraying crimson surged to Olga’s face. She trembled, she gasped, ‘Oh, I told you, Tatiana, he could not – he must not – Mama will send him away.’

‘Goose, he isn’t going to say anything to Mama. Shall I tell you what he said?’

‘No!’ Olga was desperate. It was all coming dangerously close to a confrontation with her mother. Tomorrow her mother would know that Colonel Kirby had attended, after all, she would ask affectionately phrased questions and perhaps discover that she, Olga, had gone to his suite to persuade him to attend. Then there would be a kind but firm talk with Colonel Kirby and the following day he would announce he had been recalled to St Petersburg or even to England.

‘I’ll keep it to myself, then,’ said Tatiana, ‘but no one else shall know, I promise. But how you can’t want to know yourself, I simply—’

‘Tell me. Tatiana, tell me!’

‘It was lovely. I asked him what he thought of you and he said you were preciously beautiful. Preciously! There!’

‘That isn’t— Tatiana, that isn’t to say he loves me.’

‘Oh, what a goose you are,’ sighed Tatiana, ‘you are afraid of him loving you, aren’t you? You are afraid because of how worried it would make Mama.’

‘You are the goose,’ said Olga quietly, ‘it isn’t his feelings I’m afraid of. Tasha, how wonderful it must be to be free to be loved.’

Tatiana seemed to wake up almost as soon as she fell asleep. The dark bedroom was quiet. Why had she woken?

Because it wasn’t quiet.

In the other bed Olga was weeping into her pillow.

Love, thought Tatiana, must be awful.

He lay in bed, deep in thought. The light was without sun this morning, the sky cloudy. Karita brought him a late breakfast, singing to herself. Karita often sang to herself at Livadia. It was a divinely satisfying life here. At Karinshka there had often been so little to do for a good part of the year and then it would become all rush, confusion and scramble to see to the arrival of Princess Aleka Petrovna and to the wants of innumerable noisy guests.

She was full of pride and pleasure because Ivan Ivanovich stood so high in the affections of the Imperial family, and their regard for him was
reflected in the friendly way they treated her.

She could speak quite a lot of English now and he never laughed at her when she pronounced a word wrongly. He only tried a mild correction.

‘Not singk, Karita. Sing. Sing.’

‘Yes, I said that, singk.’

‘Well, you singk very sweetly, Karita.’

He was very droll. She was so glad she had not married Oravio. It was far nicer to be with Colonel Kirby. Whenever he was especially pleased with her or she said something to make him laugh, he would put his hand under her chin and kiss her. That was always very nice.

But he did not seem especially pleased with her this morning. He lay there saying nothing, looking up at the decorative ceiling. He was dark and frowning. Well, it wasn’t her fault if he had drunk too much at the ball last night and had got to bed too late. But she would have to bear the brunt, she supposed. She knew aristocrats. Whenever they woke up liverish they would groan, and show how they disliked other human beings, especially servants. Ivan Ivanovich wasn’t groaning, but he was brooding and far away. This was very unusual in him but she supposed it had to happen sometime. The first thing that he would do would be to tell her to take his breakfast away. She would do no such thing. She liked to battle with Ivan Ivanovich. Besides, she herself had helped to prepare it in the palace kitchens.

‘Do you wish breakfast?’ she asked, having drawn back the curtains to let in the cloudy light.

He blinked. Then he smiled. It took some of his darkness away.

‘Hello, Karita. I didn’t hear you come in.’

‘But you have been looking at me when you weren’t looking at the ceiling.’

‘Oh, really? Well, that’s a mark against me. How fresh you look. You make me feel jaded. How old are you, Karita?’

‘Twenty,’ said Karita. He lay there with his right arm folded under his head, his mending left arm over his chest. She began to set out his breakfast on a glass-topped picture tray. When his magnificence was ready he would sit up.

‘What happened between you and Oravio?’ he asked.

‘I told you, he found someone much more suitable.’

‘Did he, by God? I’d like to have a look at her, then. Karita, never mind about that, just pour me some coffee. Is it late?’

‘It’s the middle of the morning. Their Imperial Highnesses are up and so are the children. You are probably the only one still in bed. The Tsarevich said someone ought to pour cold water over you, he said that is how to get lazy soldiers up. He’s so sweet, isn’t he? Here’s your coffee. No, you can’t drink it unless you sit up.’ He sat up. He took the coffee. ‘The Grand Duchesses are all talking about the ball. How gay it was, I was allowed to peep in.’

He looked at her. She would have graced the occasion in a ballgown of her own. But she never seemed to want more than life bestowed on her.

‘Karita,’ he said, ‘would it distress you if ever
the Tsar and his family were in trouble?’

‘No one who knew them could not be distressed,’ she said.

‘Sit here,’ he said and she sat on the side of the bed. Once she would have considered that improper. She knew more now about what was and what wasn’t. He regarded her thoughtfully, speculatively. ‘What do your own people think of the Tsar?’

‘Most of them love him, as they should,’ she said. ‘The Tartar chiefs are all proud to be under his protection. Their ancestors were mine too, but now our family is Christian, the Khan and the chiefs and their people are Muslims. But all of us live together in friendship because of the Tsar, who is father to us all. And now that I know him I am as proud as the chiefs.’

‘The Crimeans are the best of the Russians,’ said Kirby. ‘Karita, do you know this man called Prolofski?’

‘He’s not a Crimean,’ said Karita, turning up her nose, ‘he’s from the Urals where they’re always making trouble. He’s in the Crimea to make trouble here. He’s against everyone who is better than he is, he’s against everything that’s above him, even the stars. He’d pull them all out of the sky if he could and make dust of them. Once he came to see the Princess Karinshka. That was the day they brought you here.’

‘If Prolofski conceived a way of pulling down the Tsar and his family, what would you do, Karita?’

Karita did not take long to think about that one.

‘I’d have him put into a hole in the ground and keep him there, if he could be caught. But they call Prolofski the slippery one. He’s never where you think he is.’ She wondered what this was about. Ivan Ivanovich was very serious this morning. ‘You went for a long walk last night,’ she said.

‘And her young Highness did not think too much of me for it,’ he said, but he did not smile. Karita began to feel disturbed.

‘Ivan Ivanovich,’ she said, ‘if this man Prolofski is a bother I’ll tell you something. If a time and a place were known and he came to that place at that time, I could catch him for you. Is he to be killed?’

She asked the question so calmly that he thought she could not know what she was saying. But her brown eyes were steady, cool and knowledgeable. It was a knowledge of men like Prolofski.

‘I haven’t killed anyone yet, Karita, nor have you. Have you?’ She shook her head. ‘Do you really say you could catch them? There will be two.’

‘Two?’

‘I’m sure of it. What shall we do with both of them? Prolofski is the prosecution, the other one the executioner.’

‘We’ll find a hole for both,’ said Karita. ‘Abadah Khan will see to it. When are we to catch them?’

‘Tonight. Don’t you want to know why?’

Karita stood up. There was a strange burning in her eyes but she was still quite calm.

‘If you say the Tsar and his family are in danger, then they are,’ she said. ‘If you say this or that is so, then it is. If you say Prolofski must be put away, then he will be. You would not take me to England if I asked too many questions. But you must tell me everything I need to know about the time and the place, everything that Abadah Khan needs to know. Then I must hurry or there won’t be time to find him and have him arrange things.’

Kirby told her of the woodman’s hut on the estate and how he was meeting Prolofski there half an hour after sunset. He told her how he would signal the moment for action. He did not tell her why he was meeting the man, nor did Karita ask why. But he did say, ‘You can be in good conscience over this, Karita, I swear. Will you be back before sunset?’