Anne smiled. ‘Yes, you’re right. That’s very witty,’ she said kindly.
‘My dear Anna Petrovna, must you sound so surprised about it? I am famous for my wit in three capitals.’
‘Yes, so I’ve heard, and from a good authority.’
‘Which is–? No, don’t answer. You will say I told you so myself.’ He surveyed her critically. ‘There is a new confidence about you, Anna Petrovna. It suits you. But where does it come from?’
‘Why sir, you must know better than anyone,’ she said, enjoying herself. ‘Did you not cross this room to claim me as an acquaintance? What could give a woman more confidence than the approval of Basil Andreyevitch Tchaikovsky? Did you not say that if you took me up, I should be made?’
‘Well, it’s true,’ he said, narrowing his eyes, ‘but I cannot help feeling that when you say it, you are funning me.’
Anne tried for a more sober look. ‘Are we not to have the pleasure of your sister’s company tonight?’
‘No, Olga is engaged at Court. I have been working for an appointment for her, as lady-in-waiting to the Empress. I have some influence with dear Maria Feodorovna, you know. She quite dotes on me, the sweet creature.’
‘Yes, I’ve noticed that you have a way with the older ladies, as well as with the young ones,’ Anne said. ‘I was observing you just now engaged in a tête-a-tête with Princess Shuvalova. She seemed enthralled by what you were saying.’
‘Oh, I was talking scandalously to her,’ Basil said lightly. ‘The older they are, you know, the bolder they like you to be. But I must tell you’, he went on, leaning closer, ‘how much good I have done you already. Princess Kovanina told me yesterday that she is to get an English governess for her own little Anastasia! By the end of the season, it will be the height of fashion, I promise you! There will be a whole community of English women in Petersburg, but with you at the head, of course. So now, dear Anna Petrovna, will you be kind to me?’
‘But I am kind to you, sir. You see how I smile and talk to you, thus confirming your own good taste in choosing to converse with one upon whom you yourself have bestowed the accolade of approval?’
She gave him her most innocent look as he attempted to unravel the sense of what she had said, and, failing completely, could only give a sickly smile and say, ‘Quite so. You are right, of course. Pray, mademoiselle, as there is to be no dancing tonight, may I prevail upon you to play for us on the pianoforte later?’
‘Provided I play only to accompany a song from you, sir,’ Anne replied, and he smirked and bowed his pleasure at the compliment.
However much it piqued her, Anne had to acknowledge that Basil’s attentions did make her sought after. Hostesses asked her to play and sing for them; young men asked her to dance; and young ladies chatted to her politely and begged her to sit beside them or take a turn about the room with them. However little she understood society’s propensity to think him intellectual and witty, she found that his good opinion secured everyone else’s – with the exception of his sister. She plainly disliked Anne, though even that conferred a sort of distinction. Olga, Anne decided, was courted more for her brother’s sake than her own.
It amused the Count that her rapidly acquired reputation for intelligence came from Basil’s recommendation, and he frequently teased her about it.
‘You should be grateful to him,’ he said once. ‘There are few young men in Petersburg with sufficient wit to recognise yours. If Basil Andreyevitch had not told them how clever you are, they would never notice it for themselves.’
‘You are too kind to him, sir,’ Anne retorted. ‘He has no opinion of your intelligence at all.’
The Count laughed. ‘I should be unhappy to think he was able to understand me! Make the most of the situation, Anna. Enjoy it – that’s my advice.’
Anne soon met the Kovanins’ new English governess, a Miiss Emma Hatton who originally came from Hampshire. She was some years older than Anne, and of a limited education, but Anne found it delightful to have an Englishwoman to talk to again, someone who had grown up under the same skies and the same social conventions, who spoke English without translation and remembered the same history. Miss Hatton’s duties were only to teach Princess Anastasia, who was eleven years old, to speak and read English, so she had even more free time than Anne. They met frequently and went shopping or for walks together. Miss Hatton had been several years in Petersburg and knew most of the great families at least by repute, and she proved a useful source of gossip and news.
Despite the below-zero temperatures, Anne still took the children out for their daily airing. Sometimes they would go for a walk – Nyanka thought this a peculiarly English insanity and would have nothing to do with it, so when they walked, it would be Tanya who came with them to hold Natasha’s other hand. A small one-horse sleigh had been put at Anne’s disposal, and sometimes she and the children would cram into it together, and go for a drive along the frozen river or over the glittering fields. The children also introduced her to the delights of tobogganing. An artificial slope was built in the garden of the Kirov Palace for their private delight, and Nyanka’s services were frequently called upon to weight the roller with which the level at the end of the slope was kept smooth and flat. Miss Hatton sometimes brought her Anastasia to join the party, and a cautious friendship grew up between her and Yelena. It would have flourished more freely had not Vera Borisovna encouraged it so blatantly. She approved of the Kovanins and pushed so hard for Yelena and Anastasia to become bosom-bows that a certain amount of hostility between them was inevitable.
Having Yelena taken off her hands for so much of the day, Anne interested herself more in Natasha, and began to teach her to write and draw. She displayed a considerable talent for sketching, especially people and animals, which, though childishly inaccurate, displayed a life and vigour all their own. Despite the fact that she still would not speak, she extended her mastery of the pencil to her pothooks and was soon able to write ‘Nasha’ and ‘Mama’ and ‘Anna’ underneath her portraits in large, wobbly letters. In a short time she had grown much attached to Anne and listened with keen attention as Anne told her the names of the stars or the Kings and Queens of England. She had her third birthday, and the Count bought her a toboggan of her own, painted in blue and white, with a swan’s head with a gilded beak. She loved it so much, she insisted on taking it to bed with her every night, and only a great deal of firmness on Nyanka’s part persuaded her to keep it beside rather than in her bed.
In February, the winter fun reached its peak in the carnival season, which would culminate in the masslenitsa – Shrovetide – festivities, a sort of last grasp at gaiety before Lent began. A great fair was held on the river, with all sorts of displays and stalls.
‘This is something you mustn’t miss, Anna,’ the Count said. ‘Shall we take her, Irushka? And the children, of course.’
The Dowager was visiting a friend at Court and would be away all day, and probably all night too, and Anne expected the Countess to leap at the opportunity of an outing with her husband and children without interference. But she only shook her head without lifting her eyes from her work. ‘Oh, no, forgive me, Nikolasha, but I don’t think I could bear the crowds and the pushing and the noise.’ She did not see the expression of disappointment which passed across his face. ‘But you should go, Anna. Perhaps you could make up a party with the young Tiranovs and the Tchaikovskys.’
The Count demurred. ‘Oh no, I don’t mean to go in a regular party, and particularly not a party in which I am regarded as an elderly nuisance!’ He fixed Anne with a sardonic eye. ‘To have Basil Tchaikovsky make me feel de trop would be too much for my frail self-confidence. Just a family outing was all I had in mind. Wait, I have it! Uncle Petya shall come with us. He’s the very person to make the most of the fair. You and I, Anna, and Uncle Petya and the children – what do you say?’