‘In my grandfather’s day,’ Vera Borisovna explained more than once during the day, ‘boys were taken from home when they were ten, for five years’ compulsory education, and then enrolled in the Guards at fifteen. Of course, state service was for life in those days. Even my father was obliged to perform twenty-five years’ compulsory state service, though to be sure, they had raised the age of enrolment to twenty by then. You don’t know how lucky you are, Koko,’ she concluded severely.
‘Yes I do, Mama,’ the Count said patiently.’
‘Things are very different in modern Russia,’ she went on unregarding, ‘and I don’t know that we are better off for it. Young people are sadly heedless. You had your freedom from the very beginning, Koko, to do what you chose, and go where you pleased. No state service for you! Not that you haven’t served our dear Emperor very well, travelling all over Europe, living in foreign countries, and I’m sure he is very grateful. And it will be just the same for my dearest Serge: he will be able to travel wherever he likes. In my grandfather’s day no one was allowed to leave Russia without a special permit from the Tsar, and precious few of those were ever issued, you may believe me! What a wonderful thing it is, this progress!’
‘Very true, Mama!’
She sighed. ‘But I don’t suppose he is grateful for it. People are never grateful for liberty or indulgence. It is a great mistake, to allow young people to do as they please. Discipline, firm discipline, that’s what people need – and a good whipping, if they disobey. I never spared my children, though your father, Koko, was foolishly soft-hearted! Many a time I had to beg him to beat you when you had done wrong, for he would have let you off, if left to himself.’
‘Yes, Mother, I remember,’ the Count replied with admirable self-possession. ‘My gratitude to you is beyond expression.’
They attended the open-air ceremonies in two carriages: a new, smart barouche, in which Vera Borisovna rode with her son, and a larger, four-seat vis-à-vis, which was provided for Irina, Anne and the children. As the barouche only held two, the division seemed a natural one, and Anne thought nothing of it at first. The carriages were drawn up side by side at the edge of the parade ground where they were joined by another containing Shoora, Vsevka and their children, who had come up from Tula for the occasion.
There was soon a throng of carriages drawn up close enough to each other for conversation, each one filled with the first in rank and fashion of Moscow Society. Older ladies remained seated, nodding to each other from a distance, but gentlemen and younger ladies visited between carriages rather as they visited between boxes at the theatre or the ballet. Many were the polite calls of congratulation paid on Sergei’s account, for he was not only popular amongst his fellow cadets, but well liked in Moscow Society generally, and particularly by those families who had unmarried daughters upon the market.
The visits, Anne noticed with the beginnings of unease, were all to the barouche, and the congratulations were directed towards Vera Borisovna, with the Count receiving the overspill. Even when the ceremonies began, there was still a constant coming and going of gentlemen to pay their respects to the Dowager and chat about the war to the Count. Vera Borisovna was clearly revelling in the attention, and made as much use of her fan and parasol as a debutante.
The Count made one or two attempts to include his wife in the congratulations, but geography and his
mother made it impossible; so after a while, he gave her a bow and stepped down to go around to Irina’s side of the vis-i-vis and ask if she was sufficiently amused.
‘I’m sure it will be a spectacle worth watching,’ he said apologetically.
‘Yes, I’m sure it will,’ she replied calmly.
‘But there is a disappointment for you, Anna,’ he went on, giving her a mock-sympathetic smile. ‘Your admirer is not here! I cannot think what he is about, but perhaps he is saving himself for the ball. I believe it takes him fully three hours to dress for a formal occasion.’
‘If you mean Basil Tchaikovsky, he and Olga are in the Crimea. Their uncle is sick.’
The Count raised his eyebrows. ‘Is it so? Then, Anna, your disappointment will know no bounds. But I shall try to make it up to you. I shall dance with you, at all events.’
Anne felt uncomfortable. ‘I shall not be going to the ball, sir. My place is with the children.’
‘Nonsense!’ he retorted at once. ‘Your place, like that of any handsome young woman, is to enjoy yourself! The servants can watch the children sleeping.’
‘Really, sir,’ Anne said in a low voice, ‘I am quite decided. I do not wish to go.’
‘Nonsense,’ the Count began again, but Irina interrupted.
‘Let her be, Nikolasha. Anna knows her own mind. If she does not wish to go, do not press her.’
‘Oh, I do not press her,’ he said with a wicked grin. ‘I can see I am no substitute for Tchaikovsky. The young men carry all before them – especially those with two sound arms!’
He gave them a laughing bow and went back to his mother’s carriage, leaving Anne to think that never before had his sense of humour been so displeasing to her.
The cadets paraded and were given their scrolls. From a distance Anne could not pick out one from another, but Lolya was perfectly sure she knew which was her brother, and pointed him out in a shriek at every opportunity; and when the review began, and the cadets’ manoeuvres brought them closer from time to time, she proved to have been right.
While the cannonades were going on, and before the musical ride, in which he was to take part, Sergei rode over to the carriages, a little red in the face from his exertions, to speak to his family. He seemed very pleased with himself and greeted everyone exuberantly, promising them good entertainment from the displays to come.
‘And the ball tonight is going to be first-rate!’ he exclaimed. ‘There are to be fireworks at the end, and the set-piece – well, I won’t spoil it for you, but if you ever saw anything half so fine, I shall be astonished! I must go now, however. I see I am wanted.’
And he rode away to the sound of Lolya’s renewed demands to be allowed to go to the ball. ‘Fireworks too! Oh Mamochka, Papa can’t be so cruel!’
After the open-air spectacles, they returned to Vera Borisovna’s house to change for dinner.
‘Just a small dinner,’ the Dowager had promised. ‘Just family and a few intimate friends.’ She was giving her grand party for Sergei on the following day; this, she had taken pains to point out, was just an intimate affair. When Anne learned, however, that Sergei was to ride over to eat with them before accompanying them to the ball, she was not entirely surprised to discover that the long table was set for forty, and that the Dowager intended to receive at the head of the stairs in the formal manner, rather than in the drawing-room.
Lolya was still grumbling about not being allowed to go to the ball when Anne accompanied her and Nasha down to the drawing-room, well before the first carriage was announced.
‘Do stop, Lolya,’ Anne said as they reached the drawing-room door. ‘You’ll have plenty of balls when your turn comes, all just as exciting as this one, I promise you.’
‘But everyone’s going!’ she cried tragically. ‘And there will be fireworks’.’
‘I’m not going,’ Anne pointed out. ‘And as to the fireworks, we’ll be able to see most of them from the upstairs windows. If you’re a good girl and don’t make any more fuss, I’ll come and wake you up when they begin, and watch them with you.’
Lolya accepted the compromise reluctantly, and they entered the drawing-room to find that Sergei had already arrived, and was standing in the centre of the room with his father beside him, the centre of attention. He had grown handsome since Anne last saw him, though his face still had that unfinished look of a very young man. His pale blue uniform suited his golden looks to perfection, but most of all, she thought with an inner pang, he looked absurdly like his father. He was a little the taller, slightly larger-boned, and his hair was a shade lighter; but as they stood side by side with that same long, curving face, shining gold-green eyes, and mobile, quirky mouth, it was as if some kind of magic had brought the Count as a young man from the past to stand beside his adult self for comparison.