‘I love the way you call him Bonaparte! That’s because you’re English, isn’t it?’ Lolya said. ‘Anyway, Gran’mère said it was a disgrace that decent Russians should have to mix with the Antichrist’s agents; but Countess Edling said it was better to have him where you could see what he was up to. But the thing is, Anna dearest, if you are inviting General de Lauriston, could you please, please invite Colonel Duvierge as well? Because otherwise I don’t see how I am ever to meet him without doing something improper, like making a secret assignation, which I don’t want to do. Gran’mfcre would never let me meet him any other way.’
Anne felt herself being cornered. ‘Lolya, my dear, even if I invited him to my ball, and even if he accepted, that wouldn’t necessarily make him dance with you. Don’t you think he’s a little too old for you, anyway? There are lots of nice Russian boys who will rush for your hand tomorrow.’
Lolya’s eyes grew bright. ‘He will dance with me! You don’t understand, Anna, how we feel about each other! And he’s not a bit too old. In any case, young men are boring and insipid. Andrei is just right for me.’
‘Andrei?’
Lolya looked defiant. ‘It’s how I think of him. We’re in love, Anna, and it would be cruel not to help us.’
‘Has he said he’s in love with you?’
‘Well, not said, not yet, but I know he is really. He hasn’t had the chance to declare himself, that’s all. Oh please invite him to the ball!’
Anne examined Lolya’s hopeful face. She saw in this request all the symptoms of a hopeless crush of the sort young girls frequently developed for unsuitable or out-of-reach men. It was a sort of practising to love, she thought, and probably the best way to cure it was to allow the victim to discover for herself that the object of her passion was entirely indifferent to her. Also, with a high-spirited creature like Lolya, opposition was likely only to have the effect of making her mulish.
After all, there was no harm that could come to Lolya at a large, well-attended ball. Colonel Duvierge was a perfectly respectable young man, and probably didn’t know Lolya existed. If he came to the ball and didn’t ask her to dance, she would be quickly, if painfully, cured of her sudden fancy.
‘Very well,’ Anne said. ‘I’ll invite him; but you must promise to behave yourself, and not shame me by making yourself obvious.’
‘Oh, I promise! I’ll be as mimsy as you wish! I’ll wear mittens and stand with my eyes cast down until he asks me to dance! Thank you, darling Anna! I knew you wouldn’t let me down!’
‘Now what has she been persuading you to do, Anna Petrovna? You should know better by now than to agree to anything Lolya suggests.’ The Count’s voice startled Anne, and she turned to see that he had just ridden up behind them, and was sitting his horse and smiling at her with a warmth in his eyes which made her throat close up. Fortunately she was not obliged to speak at once, for Lolya answered him by launching into a description of her gown for Anne’s ball, meaning to lead up to the question of the diamond sprays.
Nikolai listened, glancing from time to time at Lolya and smiling, but for the rest of the time looking at Anne as thought he were receiving some nourishment through that medium. Their meetings since she came to Petersburg had been few, their conversations limited to brief exchanges snatched at public functions or private parties. His deep mourning had not ended until December, and he had remained during that time at Schwartzenturm, coming to St Petersburg only after Christmas, when he brought Lolya for her presentation.
Since that day in Moscow, he and Anne had had no opportunity to be alone together. Anne was almost glad of it. It would have been too grave a temptation. The memory of the afternoon they had spent together was too wonderful and painful to be taken out and looked at very often. She had not seen him again before he left Moscow; she had had no one to turn to for help or comfort or advice a fortnight later, when her monthly flux had not begun on time.
It was only then that full enormity of her crime was brought home to her. If she were pregnant, there would be no more hope of concealment. Basil would know that it was not his child: she would be exposed. He might cast her out, penniless, to make her own way in the world, and she knew well enough what the fate of an unprotected pregnant woman would be. He would be perfectly within his rights to repudiate her; certainly he would refuse ever to let her see Rose again.
For ten days Anne contemplated, all alone, the most hideous ruin; and then on the eleventh day she began to bleed. A few moments of relief and euphoria were followed by black reaction, and she locked herself in her room and wept and wept for her loss and her dreadful guilt. Now, much as she loved him, she was reluctant to go through that again; but she knew that if she were put in the position of being tempted, she might not be able to resist.
Oh, but she loved him, and missed him, and wanted him! It seemed so wrong for them to be separated by her farcical marriage. He lived only a few hundred yards away from her, at the Kirov Palace on the English Quay. She could slip out one day and simply never come back. He would keep her, protect her, love her, make her happy. Though he did not press her, she knew that it was what he wanted.
But if she did such wrong, how could she live with herself? And if she left Basil, she would never be allowed to see Rose again; and she could not part with her only child.
Lolya had almost talked herself out, when Kirov interrupted her, saying, ‘Did you know that Anastasia Kovanina is in the fourth carriage down from here? Ah, I didn’t think you did! Why don’t you pay a visit to her, a good long visit, so that I can have a talk with Mademoiselle de Pierre?’
‘I don’t call her that any more,’ Lolya said with eighteen-year-old scorn, but she took the suggestion and went with the greatest good nature. Nikolai climbed up into the calèche beside Anne, and they sat for a moment or two enjoying the sensation simply of being close. Provided they spoke quietly, the coachman wouldn’t hear them: the music from the regimental band would cover their voices.
‘It’s a fine display,’ Anne said at last. ‘I can’t understand why Speransky thinks it will calm public fears, though. Everyone’s counting how many regiments have left St Petersburg recently and drawing their own conclusions.’
‘If they slipped away under cover of night it would be worse,’ he said. ‘People would be convinced that Napoleon was on our doorstep.’
‘It’s going to come, then? He will invade Russia?’
‘Yes, this year, sooner or later. He’s mad enough to do it. Thank God at least we have Barclay de Tolly as our Minister for War. He’s been quietly working away at the Emperor, trying to convince him that the best policy when Napoleon invades is to keep withdrawing in front of him, leading him further and further into our territory.’
‘And is the Emperor convinced?’
‘You know what he’s like – he hates to make decisions, hates to offend people. He flows this way and that, listening first to Tolly, and then to the hotheads like Bagration.’ He frowned. ‘Worst of all is that his sister – Grand Duchess Catherine, I mean – keeps trying to push him to bold action, talks about cowardice and Our Beloved Russia, and heaps scorn on Napoleon as if he were some untried cadet! He has always listened to her; and of course Bagration’s her tool. But I add my voice to Tolly’s, and he trusts me, so I don’t despair of the outcome.’
‘We called on the Grand Duchess at Tver on our way to Petersburg,’ Anne said. ‘She holds court there like a frustrated empress – but she’s always been good to me, so I shouldn’t speak slightingly of her. At all events, she thinks she’s pregnant now, so that should give her something else to occupy her mind.’