The Rebel Daughters

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

E verything was ready for the reception. The dining room was laid out with long tables covered in damask cloths and laden with flowers. The best gold- and silverware was on display. The three magnificent candelabras had been lowered and lit with a hundred fresh candles and the house smelled like a tropical garden. Lilies, sent from the Crimea, welcomed guests and there were jardinières with cyclamen and magnolia in every room. The grand salons were heated by wood-burning stoves, their windows draped with heavy curtains, and all the servants dressed in their finest livery.

Upstairs in her bedroom, Anna was trying to decide what to wear. Mazra, her maid, suggested the green cuisse de nymphe but Anna had worn it twice before. She considered a dress of barège silk with rows of ruffles above the hem, but yellow didn’t suit her complexion. Finally, she tried on a new creation of light gauze over pink silk with roses pinned to the corsage. Anna studied herself in the glass, twisting her neck to get a better view. A ribbon encircled her body above her waist, emphasising her slender figure and puff sleeves showed off her arms. Its deep flounces and low décolletage made it elegant yet simple. Yes, this was the one! She must be irresistible to Peter tonight.

The gown was spread out on the bed and Anna sat in her dressing coat in front of the glass. Her father’s pet name for her was Ivitsa , little lioness, because she had inherited her grandmother’s dark eyes and tawny auburn hair. Tonight, Mazra had arranged her hair à la grecque with a centre parting and ringlets on either side of her face. Her complexion was clear apart from summer freckles on her nose. Anna dabbed them with powder, hoping they wouldn’t show in the candlelight, and then put a touch of Mazra’s red pomade on her lips. A spray of scent behind her ears and she was done. She already had on her silk stockings and satin dancing shoes peeped from beneath her petticoats. Now for the dress!

As the gossamer and silk garment was lifted carefully over her head, there came a tap at the door. ‘May I come in, my dear. It’s nearly nine o’clock.’ Her father’s voice spoke from the passage.

‘One moment – just wait a minute, Papa!’

Only when she was standing in the centre of the room, spreading out the floating skirt, was the door opened and her father let in. He held a necklace of pearls in his hand and Anna looked at him in surprise.

‘Your mama and I want you to have these.’ Count Brianski cleared his throat and handed the jewellery to Mazra. ‘Please will you put it on? The fastening’s at the back.’

A triple strand of perfectly matched zhemchuzhina, the rarest of pearls, was fastened round her throat, and Anna was lost for words. As the countess came in, she ran and flung her arms around her mother.

‘I thought you were angry with me! What have I done to deserve such a gift?’

‘Careful you don’t ruin your dress. ‘Valentina Brianski stood back to study her daughter.’ You still have much to learn, Anna – not least the proper arrangements for a reception. However, your father and I are proud of you.’

Valentina Brianski was rarely effusive and a feeling of warmth spread through Anna. It was not the first time her parents had given her jewellery but why tonight when the reception was for Sofia and Sasha? Could Peter have spoken to Papa already, she wondered? The thought sent a tingling sensation down her arms and she blushed.

‘Thank you, Mama and Papa. I’ll treasure this forever. I’m sorry I spoke to Monsieur Filot without your permission.’

In a corner of her bedroom stood a prayer stool. Above it, a red candle illuminated a painted icon of Saint Anne. Once she was alone, Anna knelt down and pressed the palms of her hands together.

‘Dear Saint Anne, please intercede with the Lord for me,’ she prayed. ‘May He guide Peter to my side tonight. I love him. Please pray to God and make sure that He brings him to me.’

Anna kissed the icon and came to her feet. She put on her white gloves and gathered up her fan before she hurried to join her family at the top of the stairs. Count Brianski was elegant in a blue swallowtail coat, breeches and white stockings, his receding hair pomaded and a good-natured expression on his face. His wife stood beside him in a burgundy-coloured dress that matched her toque and the rubies around her neck. They made a handsome couple, Anna thought affectionately. Sofia and Sasha, too. Sofia was dressed in blue jaconet, a treble ruff of lace at her throat framing her small face as she looked up at her husband.

The family walked down together and, while the others went into drawing room to receive their guests, Anna remained on the landing. The hall below was filling up. She could hear the murmur of voices, footsteps and greetings as carriages drove off and others arrived. Every time the door opened, a draught of cold wind swept in making the candles flicker. Footmen in capes stood outside, opening doors and letting down steps before guiding guests to the entrance where pages waited to take capes, furs and coats.

Anna’s gaze searched the crowd for Peter. He would be wearing the same white uniform as Sasha and should be easy to pick out, but she couldn’t see him anywhere. The musicians were tuning up in the gallery and a procession of guests began heading for the stairs. Gentlemen in uniforms decorated with stars and ribbons accompanied ladies whose sparkling, coloured gems caught the light as they made their way up. A few young men wore swallow-tailed evening coats, but most were in regimentals. A group of soldiers reached the first floor led by Michael Pavel, Sofia’s brother.

‘How are you, my beautiful sister-in-law?’ He greeted her with a smile and kissed her hand.’ I was afraid you might be snatched away by a prospective husband while I was out of town. ‘

Michael had curly brown hair and his eyes danced merrily as he introduced his companions. One of them, Major Renin, struck Anna as older than his companions. He was a short, wiry man with reddish hair, cut short and hard as bristles.

‘I’m delighted to meet you, Miss Brianski.’ The major’s small blue eyes fixed on Anna’s face.’ Captain Pavel’s told us of your beauty and charm, but his praise is wholly inadequate. I hope you will honour me with the first dance.’

‘I’m sorry, but I my programme is full.’ Anna lowered her gaze.

‘Then I shall wait until the end of the evening.’ Renin spoke with the confidence of a practised flirt. ‘I shall claim you for a final waltz when your other admirers have gone home.’

Anna inclined her head but did not answer. She couldn’t wait for Peter any longer and, taking Michael’s arm, walked into the grand salon with the major close on their heels. Major Renin obviously considered himself a success with the ladies, but there was something sharp about him, she thought, noting how he surveyed the company in search of important guests.

Champagne was served and Anna moved on and laughed and chatted with her friends, casting occasional, quick glances towards the door. The reception was in full swing when she heard His Highness, Prince Gagarin, being announced. He was a distinguished gentleman with white hair and three imperial stars pinned to his coat. Her parents would be pleased he honoured them with his presence. But where was Peter? How could he be late, tonight of all nights? She couldn’t still her fidgeting feet and tapped the floor with her slipper until she was distracted by the arrival of Prince and Princess Volkonsky.

Anna had yet to meet Maria’s husband and observed him from a distance. He carried himself with the aristocratic bearing of his family. Maria looked ravishing this evening in a blue silk dress with a sapphire tiara gleaming in her hair. She seemed happier with her husband by her side and bestowed a dazzling smile on Count Brianski. Prince Volkonsky bowed low to her mother and Anna walked over to greet them.

‘I believe you’ve known my darling wife longer than I have.’ Sergei Volkonsky spoke softly. ‘It was kind of you to call on Maria while I was away. I hope you’ll come again now I’ve returned.’

A little grey touched his swept-up hair – he must be fifteen years older than Maria, Anna thought. He didn’t strike her as an overbearing personality, and his courtesy and gentle manner appealed to her. She was about to answer when his eyes shifted over her shoulder.

‘I certainly didn’t expect to find you here, Renin. May I present you to my wife and our charming hostess?’

‘Mademoiselle Anna and I are already acquainted,’ the major answered, bowing to Maria before extending his hand to her husband. ‘Good to have you in town, Monsieur Sergei.’

‘I’m glad to be back with my family,’ Sergei answered briskly. ‘So, are you a friend of the bride or the groom?’

‘I’m in the same regiment as the bride’s brother, His Majesty’s Imperial Guard. Tell me, do you have news of that rascal Pavel Pestel? I gather our beloved emperor has finally lost patience with him.’

‘I haven’t seen him in months. He could be anywhere in Russia as far as I know.’

It was strange that Sergei sounded defensive, Anna thought. The Volkonskys belonged to the highest society, while Renin was only a middle-ranking officer in the army.

‘Are you referring to the officer who distinguished himself at Borodino?’ Maria enquired coldly. ‘Alexander Pushkin told me Pestel has the most brilliant mind of anyone he’s ever met.’

‘They’re two of a kind, ma’am – and both subversive liberals.’ Renin’s teeth gleamed beneath his trimmed moustache. ‘Fortunately for Russian literature, Pushkin’s radical ideas are only in his head or on the page. Pavel Pestel indulges in more dangerous activities than writing verse.’

There followed a tense silence as Sergei stared at the ground and Maria’s eyes darkened with anger. Anna was trying desperately to think of something to say to lighten the mood, when a voice spoke from behind her.

‘Never trust a man born in the French year Thermidor. Their heat burns too fiercely for us ordinary mortals.’

Anna gave a start. No one had told her Nicholas Bulgarin was invited to the reception. She was sure she hadn’t seen his name on the guest list. As far as she knew, he was neither a friend of Sofia nor Sasha. Someone must have dropped out, for he could only have been asked at the last minute.

‘Pavel Pestel is a remarkable man – whether a force for good or bad only time will tell.’ Count Bulgarin continued, holding out his hands to the Volkonskys. ‘I’m delighted to see you both, dear friends. Your company has been sorely missed these last months.’

Would he remember her from the evening at Kamenka? As Anna curtsied, Nicholas Bulgarin’s glance swept her face without a trace of recognition. Thank God, he has forgotten, she thought, and gave him a sideways look from beneath her lashes. Nicholas Bulgarin wore a blue tailcoat and pantaloons with polished Hessian boots. He was tall and strong, the muscles of his body visible beneath his well-tailored clothes. She had to admit he was handsome, with his high cheekbones and piercing blue eyes, but there was a cynical look about his mouth, and his air of self-assurance annoyed her as much as ever.

‘Princess Galitzine caught me on the way in.’ The count turned to Major Renin, indicating towards an alcove where two elderly ladies sat side by side. ‘Her Highness is asking for you, Renin.’

‘I spoke to her earlier. What does she want now?’

‘I’ve no idea, sir. She simply asked me to tell you she requires your attendance.’

Major Renin’s brow furrowed, and he shot a glance at Anna before he set off through the crush.

‘I can’t believe that awful man’s a friend of yours?’ Maria tapped Sergei’s arm with her fan.

‘He’s an acquaintance from Moscow. I wouldn’t call him a friend.’

‘I should hope not,’ Nicholas replied bluntly. ‘He attempted to pay court to my sister, but she gave him short shrift.’

‘And how is dear Olga?’ asked Maria. ‘I hoped she might be here this evening.’

‘She arrived back from Moscow today,’ Nicholas replied with a smile. ‘She’s exhausted and it’s her own fault. I advised her to wait for the snow to arrive. It would have taken half the time – but you know what Olga’s like. She’d rather risk the appalling condition of our roads than take my advice.’

Nicholas Bulgarin’s voice was surprisingly playful. Through half-lowered eyelids, he scrutinised the room, his discerning gaze taking everything in. The drawing room was decorated with fashionable stripes and furnished in the French style. Did he appreciate her parents’ good taste, Anna wondered? Was he impressed by the fine statues, malachite tables and collection of Old Master paintings?

It was the time when the hosts circulated through the room to spend a few minutes with each guest. Conversations were kept short and people gathered in small groups, no one wanting to appear impatient until the gong sounded, summoning them to the dining hall. Count Brianski led the way with Princess Galitzine, followed by her mother on Prince Gagarin’s arm. As Sasha and Sofia stepped forwards, Anna’s eyes went for a last time to the doorway. Peter should be here by now. Mama had placed him next to her and he was meant to lead her into dinner.

‘May I have the honour?’ Nicholas Bulgarin spoke beside her.

He offered his arm and after a short hesitation she laid her hand on it.

As they walked behind Maria and Sergei, Anna was acutely conscious of his easy grace and the light touch of his fingers. Nicholas Bulgarin was sleek as a panther and his physical aura made her self-conscious. She felt uncomfortable – as if her décolletage was too low and everyone in the room staring at her.

Embarrassed, she cast about for something trivial to say. ‘Do you live in St. Petersburg all the year round?’

‘I have homes here, in the country and in Moscow. I generally prefer Moscow in the winter, but the north has its own attractions. I gather you are sister to the bridegroom?’

Nicholas Bulgarin gave her a bold look. Anna had no experience of dealing with men like him and his seductive charm unnerved her. She lowered her eyelashes, looking straight ahead until they came to the anteroom where wedding presents were displayed on tables. There were gifts of every kind: bowls of alabaster and precious lazuli, decorated marble eggs, and a set of birch boxes, one nestling inside the other. Porcelain figurines were placed alongside a pile of books and in pride of place stood her two portraits in their oval frames.

She had painted Sasha with his head turned sideways to show off his profile while Sofia gazed out of the picture at the viewer. Her heart-shaped face and fair hair were delicately rendered and Sergei and Maria stopped to admire them.

‘Why, they’re wonderful, Anna!’ Maria exclaimed. ‘I had no idea you were so good.’

‘Most accomplished.’ Sergei bent down, removing his monocle. He tucked it into his breast pocket as he straightened up.’ The happy couple are blessed to have such a good artist in the family.’

Now it was Nicholas Bulgarin’s turn to inspect the pictures. He took so long that Anna braced herself for criticism. She tried to withdraw her hand and felt the pressure of his fingers tighten slightly.

‘Have you been painting for long?’

‘My parents say I was born with a paintbrush in my hand.’

‘Many people believe themselves to be artists but very few have any talent.’ He spoke in a slow drawl. ‘You are the exception, Miss Brianski. I congratulate you.’

The praise was genuine and Anna was torn between pleasure and a desire not to appear flattered. Their eyes met and she saw a flicker of interest in their depths. Nicholas Bulgarin escorted her to her parents’ table and she favoured him with a smile as he left to find his place.

Under the italianate carved ceiling, footmen moved quietly between tables. Anna’s cousin, Andrei, was on her right and on the other side an empty chair for Peter Dashkovy. He was always so punctual. What could have happened to him? Might there have been an accident? Anna felt a knot tighten in her stomach. If something had occurred, surely they’d have heard by now? The idea that he might have forgotten the reception was inconceivable. Peter had been a witness at the wedding. He was one of Sasha’s oldest friends.

The room felt hot and the sound of voices deafening, until a bell rang and the company fell silent. A swan carved of ice was carried in at shoulder height by four footmen and paraded between the tables before it was set down in front of Sasha and Sofia. Everyone clapped and Count Brianski stood up.

‘Dearest friends and family, we’re delighted to welcome you into our home this evening in honour of the bridal couple. I ask you to raise your glasses to Sasha and Sofia Brianski. May fortune bless them, heaven smile down on them, and health and happiness be with them always!’

The toast was given and Anna downed her vodka in one. Chairs scraped the marble floor and there was a clatter of knives and forks as the first course was served. At the head of her table, everyone seemed in fine spirits. Count Brianski was pouring wine into Princess Galitzine’s glass, while Valentina was deep in conversation with a handsome officer of the Hussars. The noisiest group in the room was at Sasha and Sofia’s table. Sofia sat beside her husband laughing as he recounted stories and Nicholas Bulgarin’s dark head was bent as he spoke to his neighbour.

They were all enjoying themselves, the men’s voices becoming louder each time their glasses were refilled. No one else seemed to have noticed Captain Dashkovy’s absence. Fish followed soup, but Anna had no appetite. She pushed her food round the plate with a fork and craned her neck so she could see the door. Peter might have arrived and be downstairs, she thought. She imagined him running up the staircase and arriving breathless. He would go and apologise to her parents before he came to sit next to her. Surely, he would be coming through the door at any moment!

Hiding her agitation, Anna turned to Andrei and asked for the latest society gossip. Her cousin chatted away with Anna only half-listening. They were halfway through dinner and Peter’s place was still unoccupied. He’ll think it impolite to come in now, she thought, and will be waiting in the salon. I’ll find him when we go through. The idea soothed her and she drank more wine, laughing at Andrei’s stories until dinner was over and the company rose.

They returned to the drawing room where rugs had been lifted for dancing, and Count Brianski gathered a small group of male friends and took them to the smoking room. Valentina and the other ladies sat down and couples formed two long lines for a polonaise. The musicians struck up and Sasha led Sofia onto the floor for the first dance. Major Renin was wandering around on his own and Anna moved to stand by the door. She waited until the dance began and then slipped out onto the landing.

Her fan dangled from her wrist as she peered over the balustrade. The hall below was silent and empty. Peter must be here somewhere, she thought and walked across the landing. In the red salon, tables had been set up for Boston. A few people were playing cards while others sat in low-backed chairs talking and drinking. No one noticed her as she passed through the room and headed to the conservatory. She could hear sounds of muffled laughter and pressed her face to the glass.

Younger children were playing hide and seek, flitting between flower tubs and greenery and Anna’s lip trembled with disappointment. All her plans depended on talking to Peter this evening. She had counted on him, and he hadn’t even bothered to turn up. She felt a lump in her throat, like a small stone, and swallowed hard. Peter’s been delayed for good reason, she told herself. A member of his family must have fallen ill or his commanding officer needs him urgently. If he doesn’t come tonight, he’ll call tomorrow and explain everything. I will ask him to sit for his portrait then. I must talk to him alone.

The door to the conservatory opened and a young boy ran out. He waved to his friends before he headed down the corridor. Anna drew herself up. She couldn’t stay away any longer. It was time to get back to the reception before she was missed.