The Seeds of Power Page 17

  And she had smiled. ‘There is no reason for my people to inhibit you, Mr Cromb; none of these can understand English, save for Anatole. So flirt away.’

  ‘Flirting is not only a matter of words, Countess.’

  ‘You mean you wish to touch me? To fuck me, here on the banks of the river?’ Once again she had reduced him to speechlessness. Anna had continued to smile. ‘Obviously that is not possible, in front of the footmen. Or even Anatole.’ Then to his consternation, she clapped her hands. ‘Anatole, give me your bugle.’

  Anatole hurried forward to hand her the trumpet. ‘Now take yourself and your people away,’ Anna said. ‘Far away. I will blow the bugle when you may return.’

  Anatole bowed and he and the other three men disappeared.

  ‘I am going to bathe,’ Anna said. ‘The water will be very cold, but the more invigorating for that. Will you bathe with me, Mr Cromb?’

  ‘Well, heck, Countess...’

  ‘However, I dislike undressing in front of men,’ Anna said. ‘So I would be much obliged if you would turn your back on me until I say you may turn again.’ She smiled. ‘You may use the time to undress, yourself.’

  He felt a tremendous combination of relief and disappointment. ‘You mean you have a costume you’re going to change into. Right. But the fact is, I don’t have a costume, unless your guys have brought one along for me.’

  ‘Mr Cromb, I do not wear a costume to bathe. Now, will you kindly turn your back.’

  He didn’t know what to say. But he got up and turned his back, feeling a variety of emotions, sexual arousal the most prominent. She couldn’t possibly mean... ‘Thank you, Mr Cromb, you may turn round now.’

  He turned, and here was absolute perfection, from the whiteness of her shoulders, and breasts, entrancingly heavy and pink-nippled, to the surprisingly slender thighs and the spread of pale silk at her groin, down the straightness of her well-muscled legs. ‘Why, Mr Cromb,’ she said. ‘Are you not going to bathe?’ She turned away from him. Her hair was still up and there was no protection for her equally white back and buttocks, as she sat on the bank and slid into the water, which came above her waist.

  Charles tore at his clothes. He had no idea what she intended, but he had to get in there with her. He ran at the bank, and she turned to look at him in turn. ‘Why, Mr Cromb,’ she remarked. ‘You are a big fellow.’

  He slid down the bank, shuddered because the water was indeed very cold, and reached for her. She stepped back, frowning. ‘Please, Mr Cromb.’

  ‘But...for Christ’s sake, Countess...’

  ‘I have no intention of being raped, Mr Cromb. Nor had I expected it of you. Do not worry, the cold water will soon have a soothing effect.’

  *

  Definitely he was in a world he had never imagined could exist. He had bathed naked with a Russian countess, who had engaged him in pleasant conversation while allowing him to look at her as much as he liked...but then she had been looking at him. But she had not permitted him to go any further than look.

  ‘That was the wildest experience I ever had,’ Charles said. ‘I’m sorry I was rude.’

  Anna smiled. ‘You are strange to our customs. I forgive you.’

  ‘Well, I’ve never done anything like that before. But you said, well...’

  ‘You would like to fuck me, is that it?’

  Tentatively he picked up her hand; she made no effort to free herself. ‘Do you know what I would like to do, more than anything else in the world?’ he asked.

  ‘To fuck me.’

  ‘You mistake me, Countess. Of course I wish to make love with you. But more than anything else I would like to take you back to America with me. As my wife, of course.’

  ‘Do you know, Mr Cromb, I believe you have the instincts of a gentleman,’ she remarked. ‘I think it would be simply delightful to come to America with you. But I am afraid it is not possible.’

  ‘You mean you would fuck me but not marry me.’ She smiled. ‘I never said that I would fuck you either, Mr Cromb. I merely observed that you wished to fuck me. Which was correct, was it not?’

  ‘Because I am not a gentleman, is that it?’

  ‘No, Mr Cromb,’ she said quietly. ‘Because I am already suited. The Bolugayevska you should marry is my sister Alix. She is just as attractive as I. And she is a virgin.’

  CHAPTER NINE - THE BETROTHAL

  ‘You are now on Bolugayen, Mr Cromb,’ Anna Bolugayevska said, pointing down into the valley. Charles had been surprised at her decision to ride out of Poltava. Her landau rumbled along some distance behind them, followed by the wagonloads of purchases she had made during her stay in the city. Then he had realised that she actually did enjoy riding. She made a picture in her dark blue double-breasted tunic over a matching skirt, her flowing red scarf, her black silk hat, and her hair caught in a snood.

  She had not invited him to breakfast with her; this morning her note had merely informed him of the hour they were leaving, early enough to give him time to breakfast in his room. She had been politeness itself, but the intimate camaraderie of the previous day had been entirely absent.

  He contented himself with saying, ‘Very impressive’, as he looked at the mansion, the outbuildings and the stables, and in the distance the roofs of the houses and the church steeple all nestling so pastorally in the midst of a sea of white cotton-buds.

  But as ever, Anna had the last word. ‘And it’s all ours. No matter what the Tsar may say.’ She kicked her horse and cantered down the slope, followed by her various attendants.

  Charles followed, hooves clattering on the gravel of the forecourt, above which the house rose. Grooms hurried forward to grasp their bridles, footmen appeared to assist in the unloading of the wagons as they came into the yard. Anna was assisted from the saddle by a somewhat elderly man, redolent of authority.

  ‘This is Igor,’ she told Charles. ‘Igor is our butler.’ She spoke rapidly in Russian. ‘I have told him to prepare an apartment for you in the guest wing,’ she explained. ‘You will be staying with us for a while.’ Her eyebrows assumed an entrancing arch. ‘You will be staying for a while, Mr Cromb?’

  ‘I reckon that depends on the Prince, Countess.’

  ‘Well, then, let us ask him.’ Her gloved fingers twined in his and she led him up the steps, to where a man waited. Prince Bolugayevski could not be thirty years old. He was a handsome man, his fair hair brushed straight back from his forehead. His clothes were of the very best quality. ‘Darling,’ Anna said, in English. ‘I have brought you a guest.’

  Charles gulped as she released him, ran forward, put her arms round her brother-in-law’s neck, and kissed him on the mouth. It was a warm, intimate kiss, to which the Prince responded. I am already suited, she had said. But...the Prince?

  Neither looked the least embarrassed as they released each other and Anna beckoned Charles forward; if the Prince was frowning, it was because he recognised something in the new arrival. ‘Have we met, sir?’

  ‘His name is Charles Cromb, Colin. And he is Jennie’s cousin.’

  ‘Good heavens!’ Colin held out his hand. ‘Welcome! But...I don’t remember you from Blaistone.’

  ‘I’m Charlie Cromb’s son. My father left Blaistone before either of us was born, I fancy, Prince.’

  ‘Well, come in. Come in. Jennie’s out at the moment, riding. With Alix. But I’m pleased you’ve met Anna.’

  ‘I’ve invited Mr Cromb to stay for a while,’ Anna said.

  ‘Of course.’

  The Prince walked into his house, past bowing servants. Anna tucked her arm through Charles’s, and followed. ‘You see,’ she said, ‘I told you he’d be pleased to see you. Now, I’m sure you need a wash and brush up after your ride. Igor will show you to your apartment.’

  The Prince, who had reached the door to one of the downstairs reception rooms, turned back towards them. ‘When you are ready, we will have a talk.’

  *

  ‘Come in, Mr Cromb,’ the Prince in
vited, when Igor opened the doors of the study for him. ‘I’d have you meet my sons. Well, Georgei is adopted to be sure. But he is Jennie’s son.’

  The six-year-old boy came forward and offered his hand with great dignity. ‘Father tells me you are my uncle, sir,’ he said, in English.

  The boy had auburn hair, and his resemblance to Jennie was marked. ‘I guess I am.’

  ‘And you come from America. I should like to go to America, one day.’

  ‘Well, perhaps you shall.’ Charles glanced at the Prince.

  ‘I am sure you shall, Georgei,’ Colin said. ‘Peter.’

  The second boy was perhaps a year younger, and smaller. But he too moved with conscious dignity. ‘Welcome to Bolugayen, sir,’ he said in a high, clear voice.

  ‘Peter will be six this year,’ Colin explained. ‘He is my son. Thank you, boys, now off you go. Mr Yevrentko is waiting for you.’

  The two boys bowed to their father, and left the room. Charles looked around him. The room was really too large to be described as a study; the acres of book-lined walls more suggested a library. The Prince gestured him to a leather-upholstered armchair, and came round the huge walnut desk to seat himself in another.

  ‘The Countess Anna has explained to me the reasons behind your visit,’ the Prince said. ‘Tell me, how did you know where your cousin was living?’

  ‘I went to Blaistone Manor. All of the family has disappeared. You might say Jennie had disappeared too, as far as Blaistone was concerned. But they did know the name of the fellow who carried her off.’

  ‘Did you see Lord Blaistone?’

  ‘It was he gave me the information. He showed some interest in you.’

  ‘Did he, by God? But you know my situation?’

  ‘I am sure it could be resolved. After all, the war is six years in the past.’

  ‘Perhaps I do not wish it resolved, Mr Cromb. I carry a great deal of guilt on my shoulders, for several causes. I think it should probably stay there.’

  ‘I’m afraid I don’t understand.’

  ‘One needs to live in Russia to understand. Anna also tells me you saw Vorontsov.’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘And is it your ambition to carry your cousin back to the States?’

  ‘That has to be up to her. And you, I guess. I just knew I had to find her.’

  ‘Which is an admirable determination. Are you financially sound?’

  ‘I own a shipping line.’

  ‘Not necessarily the same thing.’ Colin smiled. ‘I also own a shipping line.’

  ‘In addition to all this?’

  ‘My predecessor believed in diversity, and who is to say he was not correct to do so. We live in changing times.’

  ‘Like losing all your serfs?’

  ‘I haven’t lost them, Mr Cromb. I merely no longer own them.’

  ‘Still, quite a change, eh?’

  ‘What the Tsar decrees, happens. He freed all the Imperial serfs some years ago.’

  ‘Does that mean Jennie is now free?’

  ‘Jennie has been free for several years, Mr Cromb. I gave her her freedom the moment I became Prince.’

  ‘And she has remained here, of her own free will?’

  ‘Jennie has suffered a great deal since coming to Russia, but now there is nowhere else that she could be as well off and as contented. At least until your arrival.’

  ‘And she is now your mistress?’ Despite Anna’s dismissal of that possibility, he had to be sure. The Prince raised his eyebrows. ‘Forgive me, Prince,’ Charles said. ‘But it seems to me that everyone around here calls a spade a spade.’

  ‘You mean, Anna,’ the Prince said. ‘But that goes for all the sisters. No, Mr Cromb, Jennie has never been my mistress. Anna says she told you what was done to her, by the police.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, then, you will understand, she no longer enjoys matters of the flesh. She is regarded as a sister here, by both my wife and sisters-in-law, and by myself.’

  ‘But Anna said there is nothing the matter with her mind.’

  ‘Why, no, Mr Cromb. She has her son, she has a great many friends amongst my people, and I believe she is happy. I wish her to remain so.’

  ‘Colonel Vorontsov still has a file on her. Her case is still open. It seems to me that only you stand between her and a hangman’s rope. Can any woman be happy knowing she exists on such a thin knife edge?’

  Colin smiled. ‘I imagine she knows that I have no intention of dying, in the immediate future.’

  ‘Then let me ask you one more question, if you won’t think me presumptuous. Your serfs are freed. How does that affect your wealth, and your power? Power which stands between Jennie and the rope.’

  ‘Very little. His Majesty has sought to reform our system of life, but he has no intention of overturning either the social or economic fabric of the nation. The freeing of the serfs is to be a gradual process. This year was only the commencement. People who have for generations been bound need a long period of adjustment before they can be turned loose.’

  ‘I never thought to hear an Englishman express such a point of view, with respect, Prince.’

  ‘Shall I say that I have become Russianised, Mr Cromb?’ He gave one of his boyish grins. ‘Or would you prefer, corrupted? Now come, the girls have returned.’

  Charles followed the Prince into the hall, where two women were just handing their silk riding hats and crops to waiting footmen, while Igor hovered with a tray of glasses of brandy. ‘I’ve a surprise for you,’ the Prince said. ‘Jennie!’

  She was taller and far more lovely than Charles had expected.

  ‘I’m Charles Cromb, Jennie,’ Charles said. ‘Your father and mine were brothers.’

  Jennie hesitated, glanced at the Prince, then held out her hand. Charles decided to shake it rather than kiss it. ‘I do not understand,’ she said.

  ‘Mr Cromb has come looking for you,’ the Prince said.

  Jennie gazed at Charles. ‘Well, in a manner of speaking,’ Charles explained. ‘I went to England to look up my Dad’s family, as we don’t really have any family in the States.’

  ‘My mother sent you here?’

  Charles frowned. ‘Your mother is dead, Jennie. Didn’t you know that?’

  ‘No, I didn’t know that. Did you see my sisters?’ she asked.

  “Fraid not. I couldn’t find them. Seems that when your Ma died, they up and left Blaistone.’

  ‘You mean they are probably dead too?’

  ‘Well, I doubt that,’ Charles protested. ‘I guess they’re married, but as they didn’t keep in touch with Blaistone, I couldn’t trace their married names. So, that left you. Lord Blaistone told me where to come.’

  ‘I must go and change,’ Jennie said. At the foot of the stairs she paused and looked over her shoulder. ‘Will you stay?’

  Charles looked at the Prince, who nodded. ‘Your cousin is welcome to stay for as long as he chooses.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘She’s going to have a cry.’ Charles turned in some confusion.

  ‘I’m Alix,’ the girl said. She was only a girl, definitely younger than the sister she so strongly resembled. Both features and hair were similar to Anna’s, but there was a quality of softness, in both the eyes and the mouth, that Anna had totally lacked.

  ‘My pleasure, Countess.’

  ‘I must go and change for lunch. But this afternoon, you must tell me all about America. I so want to go there.’ She followed Jennie up the stairs.

  ‘May I say, Prince, that you have gotten yourself surrounded by truly beautiful women.’

  ‘You could say I am the most fortunate of men. Now you must come and meet my wife.’

  *

  Charles followed the Prince up the stairs and along the gallery to an apartment on the far side of the house. Double doors admitted the two men into an even larger and brighter room, high-ceilinged and decorated mostly in white. Two women sat in the bay window, industriously stitchin
g. Both looked up at the entry of the Prince, and one hastily stood up as well. But she, dark-haired and gamine-featured, was never a Bolugayevska. The other, who did not rise, had to be the Princess, for she had the family features, only colder; her hair was also darker than her sisters and she was clearly some years older. A heavy layer of powder could not hide the scar on her cheek.

  ‘Papa!’ A little girl, who had been playing quietly in the corner, came running across the carpet.

  ‘This is my daughter, Catherine,’ the Prince told Charles. ‘And this is Catherine’s mother, Olga.’ Olga gave a hasty curtsey.

  ‘Do we have a guest?’ Dagmar inquired, quietly, speaking English—her voice as cold as her eyes.

  ‘Mr Charles Cromb, my dear,’ the Prince said.

  Dagmar frowned. ‘Cromb?’

  ‘I am Jennie’s cousin, Princess,’ Charles said.

  Dagmar gazed at him, as if not sure that he should have addressed her at all. ‘Mr Cromb will be staying with us for a while,’ the Prince said.

  ‘And is he going to take that creature away with him when he leaves?’

  Charles looked at the Prince in consternation. ‘Somehow, my dear, I doubt that,’ the Prince said. ‘I thought you might like to meet him. Shall we go down, Mr Cromb? I do not think the Princess will be joining us for lunch.’

  Charles gave a bow, and moved to the door. The Prince put his daughter down after giving her another squeeze, and followed. ‘Quickly, Mr Cromb,’ he recommended.

  Charles hesitated, looked over his shoulder, and saw the vase hurtling in his direction.

  *

  There were eleven for lunch, including Charles. Apart from the three women, Anna, Alexandra and Jennie, and the Prince, there were Mr and Mrs Smyslov, who were the estate bailiff and his wife, the family priest, Father Alexei, and Dr Fine, the family physician, and his son David; these two intrigued him, because they were definitely Jewish, yet were treated with total intimacy by the rest of the family. Fine himself was a young middle-aged man with a full black beard and strong features; Charles gathered he was a widower. David was eighteen, good-looking with intense dark eyes. Both clearly worshipped the Prince. The Smyslovs, he felt, were afraid of their master. As, perhaps, was the priest. The eleventh diner was the young prince’s tutor, Yuri Yevrentko.