Anne liked Marya Antonovna: she had grace and style and composure, as well as discretion and an unexpected modesty. She dressed usually in white, which suited her alabaster skin and black hair, and preferred always to stand quietly in a corner, watching the world from within the remote fastness of her beauty. That the Emperor still adored her was plain from the glances of tenderness and intimacy he gave her from across the room; and having seen she was of the company, he seemed to forget to go away again. He didn’t dance, but he took a little supper, and spent the rest of the time talking earnestly with a fluctuating group of courtiers and advisers in one of the anterooms, remaining always near the door so that he could watch the company, which appeared to amuse him.
It was a bold mix: a large number of courtiers, naturally, and the leaders of society; members of the governmental circle and the diplomatic set; handsome young hussars and Dragoons about to be sent off to the borders, and an equal number of lovely young women to console them; and a group of leading actors, ballet dancers, and opera singers to add a touch of the exotic to the evening.
Anne was everywhere, talking, dancing, introducing people, making sure everyone was entertained, drinking a great deal of champagne and laughing perhaps a little too much. Jean-Luc was subdued, dressed almost normally in breeches and coat – though his waistcoat was scarlet satin embroidered with blue and gold parrots – and with his long hair tied respectably behind. He chatted mostly with his friends from the company, did not dance, avoided Anne’s eye, and spoke to Basil only once, when they snatched a brief, whispered conversation just before supper. Basil was being the perfect, charming host, flirting with the dowagers and dancing with the shyer young matrons just as he should. He, too, avoided Anne, and after they had danced the opening minuet together, made sure he was always at the other end of the ballroom from her.
Anne spoke to Kirov only once, for he was engaged the whole evening either with the Emperor, or with one of the satellite groups around him, talking now to Lauriston, now to Rumiantsev, the Chancellor, now to Barclay de Tolly. When everyone was on the move towards the supper-rooms, he managed to manoeuvre his way to Anne’s side.
‘You’re very gay this evening,’ he murmured. ‘Is everything all right?’
She turned her face up to him; her cheeks were flushed, her eyes over-bright. ‘Yes, of course.’
‘There was no trouble? You got into the house all right?’
She laughed brittly. ‘Oh, he made no trouble. There will be no trouble, I promise you!’
He looked concerned, touched her hand under cover of the crowd. ‘Anna, what is it? Are you ill? You look fevered. What’s happened, my love?’
She pulled her hand away. ‘Not now. I can’t talk about it now. But everything’s all right, I promise. We are not discovered.’
‘Nevertheless, something’s disturbed you.’
‘I’ll tell you about it – tomorrow. I must go now. I have to go down to supper with Admiral Chicagov.’
He looked worried, but bowed and began to move away; then she called him back.
‘Nikolai!’ He turned enquiringly. ‘What is Le Parc aux Cerfs?’
His brows went up. ‘It was a house belonging to Louis XV of France, where he kept young women for pleasure. A private brothel, I suppose you might call it. Why do you want to know that?’
Her mouth bowed as though she had bitten an unripe olive; and then she turned away. ‘No reason at all,’ she said.
One of the surprises of the evening was the behaviour of Colonel Duvierge towards Lolya. Anne had received him as part of de Lauriston’s suite, and he had bowed politely over her hand, and murmured his gratitude for the invitation.
‘I am sorry it was sent somewhat at the last moment, Colonel,’ Anne said. ‘I am sure you will forgive the oversight.’
He straightened and smiled at her – an attractive smile, full of white teeth, except that it didn’t touch his eyes, which remained distant and watchful. ‘There is nothing to forgive, madame. An invitation to your house is an honour whenever it arrives.’
Studying him with new interest on Lolya’s behalf, Anne found he was older than she had at first thought: thirty-two or -three, perhaps, certainly too old for Lolya, and too old, she would have thought, to be interested in her. His face was handsome in a mature way, strong-featured, firm with accustomed command, but rather harsh. There was experience in his eyes, and a certain cynicism, but no warmth or humour. A dedicated man, she thought – ambitious, likely to be ruthless in pursuit of his ends, and the sort who would inevitably regard women as dispensible aids to pleasure in the few moments of recreation he ever allowed himself.
Emphatically not the sort of man one would wish to see a warm-hearted, impulsive creature like Lolya throw herself at; but fortunately not the sort of man who would find anything to interest him in an untried girl. A discreet, experienced, above all safe, married woman would be the choice of a man like Duvierge. He would not be willing to spend time on careful courtship, and would find emotional scenes a bore. He would want a woman who would serve his needs efficiently and cause him no trouble; and Anne was not surprised to intercept, during the course of the evening, a look which passed between Diverges and Countess Sulovyeva – wife of a senior member of the War Ministry – which suggested very strongly that she was at present providing what was required.
Anne felt sorry for Lolya’s inevitable disillusionment: but as she was still as volatile as she was young, Anne thought she would soon find another and, she hoped, more suitable object for her passion. Lolya was looking very lovely that evening. Someone – either her grandmother or her father – had persuaded her to wear a light-coloured gown, and she was all youth and freshness in almost transparent spider-gauze over a silk slip of bleu d’extase sewn with tiny crystal spars which caught the light and shimmered as she moved. She had pearls around her throat, and her piled dark hair was dressed with white silk flowers sewn with seed pearls. She wore her spangled shawl over her elbows with a natural grace, and stood with her head high and her bright, animated face alight with expectation of the highest happiness.
Anne braved the chill of her grandmother’s gaze and went up to speak to her, took her hands and kissed her cheeks, and said, ‘Dearest Lolya, you look so pretty! You’ll dance every dance tonight, that’s certain!’
Lolya smiled, but looked a little anxious. ‘People keep asking me, and it’s difficult to refuse them all without Gran’mère hearing. That beast Andrei Fralovsky asked me twice, and wouldn’t believe I was engaged unless I told him with whom and then Pavelasha Tiranov came bothering me too! Oh Anna, I wish he’d come quickly and ask me! Don’t you think he’ll want to dance the first dance with me? The first is the important one, isn’t it?’
Anne was startled. ‘Lolya, you silly child, are you refusing to dance with your old friends because you hope Duvierge will ask you?’
Lolya’s cheeks grew pink with vexation. ‘I’m not a silly child! And he will ask me, he will! I’d ask him, only I promised you I wouldn’t be bold, and Gran’mère would have forty fits.’
‘I should think she would,’ Anne began, but Vera Borisovna at that moment drifted nearer to hear what they were saying.
‘Ma Belle Hélène, you mustn’t keep Madame Tchaikovsky from her duties.’ She gave Anne a frigid bow. ‘And besides, there are lots of young men waiting to ask you to dance. Have you any dances left, my sweet one? Because I think you ought to dance with Prince Straklov before supper. The dear Princess, his mother, told me he was going to ask you.’