The Seeds of Power Page 19

  ‘That is splendid.’ She gave a quick nod of her head, and the message was clearly immediately relayed to the Prince, who stood up.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he said. ‘It is my great pleasure, this evening, to announce the betrothal of my sister-in-law Alexandra, to Mr Charles Cromb, of Boston, Massachusetts.’

  There was a roar of applause and hand-clapping. Charles looked across the table at Alexandra. Presumably she had been briefed, because although pink spots had gathered in her cheeks, she did not look otherwise disconcerted by the announcement. ‘Speech!’ Anna cried. ‘Speech!’

  Slowly Charles rose to his feet. He thought it probable that he was more surprised than anyone at the table. But as he began to speak there was a tinkling crash; David Fine had dropped his glass.

  *

  Charles lay on his back and tried to remember the events of the evening, the vast quantities of vodka and wine and brandy he had consumed.

  But now...there were things to be done. Letters to be written, certainly, to Bowen his chief clerk to inform him that his return would be delayed until the early autumn—Alexandra had no intention of missing the rehabilitation of her family or a meeting with the Tsar and Tsarina—and that when he did he would be bringing with him a Russian countess as his bride. That would set the tongues wagging.

  But first, some fresh air. His valets were as usual waiting for him to make a move, and had him bathed and shaved and dressed in half an hour, which left him feeling distinctly better. He went downstairs, where the huge house was just beginning to stir. Then in the distance he heard the braying of the post horn.

  The arrival of the post was always an exciting occasion on Bolugayen. Anna and Alix appeared in their dressing gowns, hair loose, cheeks still flushed with sleep. The Prince, fully dressed, came running down the stairs. Igor Bondarevski had greeted the mailman and taken the satchel. He was now carefully arranging the various letters and parcels on one of the hall tables.

  ‘That’ll be the lace I ordered from Kiev,’ Anna said. ‘Oh, I do hope they’ve got it right this time.’

  The Prince was thumbing through the letters. ‘My word,’ he remarked. ‘There’s one here for you, Charles.’

  Charles took the envelope, and recognised Bowen’s handwriting. He slit the paper with his thumb, took out the several sheets of paper, unfolded them, and read with a slowly gathering frown.

  ‘Not bad news, I hope,’ the Prince said.

  Charles raised his head; his mind was spinning. ‘We are at war,’ he said, scarcely believing the word himself.

  ‘You mean the United States? At war with whom?’

  ‘At war with ourselves, Prince.’

  CHAPTER TEN - THE MARRIAGE

  The Prince looked bewildered. ‘A civil war, in America? But what can there be a civil war about, in such a country?’

  ‘Slavery, Prince. Slavery. There were rumblings before I left, when Lincoln received the nomination. But now...the southern states have seceded, declared themselves independent, and fired upon a Union fort. The President has declared war, and called for seventy-five thousand volunteers. My clerk writes that he also seeks the support of all shipowners, certainly in the north.’

  ‘Does that mean you will have to return?’

  ‘At once, sir.’

  ‘Now there is a catastrophe, to be sure.’

  Charles looked up the stairs to where the three women, for the sisters had been joined by Jennie, were gazing at him. ‘I do wish you to believe, Countess Alexandra,’ Charles said, ‘that this unfortunate turn of events will make no difference whatsoever to our plans, unless you so will it.’

  ‘But...’ Alexandra’s tongue came out and circled her lips. ‘I cannot go with you. Not now.’ The St Petersburg visit loomed far larger in her mind than her marriage.

  ‘I quite understand this,’ Charles said. ‘I will have to ask you to wait for me. This war cannot last very long.’

  ‘Of course I will wait for you, Mr Cromb,’ Alexandra said.

  Charles looked at Anna, but she was watching her lover.

  ‘No,’ the Prince said. ‘There can be no delay.’

  ‘With respect, Prince, but I really do not feel I can take the Countess back with me at this minute,’ protested Charles. ‘The country appears to be in a turmoil, and I imagine I will be obliged to leave Boston almost the moment I get there. Sadly, I have no family in America. It would place the Countess in an intolerable position to be dumped in the middle of a strange country, which is at war, and with not a soul to turn to.’

  ‘I entirely agree,’ the Prince said. ‘Under no circumstances could I permit Alexandra to go with you at such a time. But equally, under no circumstances can I condemn her to some kind of open-ended engagement, which may last for years. You say this war will soon be over. Wars have a habit of lasting longer than anyone expects them to. I merely wish the marriage to be celebrated before Charles departs, that is all.’

  ‘Oh!’ Alexandra looked decidedly taken aback. ‘With respect, Prince,’ said Charles. ‘I must leave immediately. Today, if possible.’

  ‘I think tomorrow, Charles,’ the Prince said. ‘One day is not going to make all that much difference when you are in any event contemplating a journey of several weeks.’

  ‘But, the banns...’

  ‘In my authority as Lord of Bolugayen, I command that the banns be dispensed with,’ the Prince declared. ‘The marriage will take place this morning.’ He turned to an equally thunderstruck Igor. ‘You will send a messenger into town to inform Father Alexei that his services are required, immediately, and you will invite the members of the tzemtsvo and their wives to the wedding of the Countess Alexandra to Mr Charles Cromb. Tell them that they are also invited to the wedding luncheon, which you will instruct Boris to prepare. You will extend the same invitation to the Smyslovs. Off with you, now.’

  Igor hurried away.

  ‘But Colin,’ Alexandra protested, ‘I have no gown.’

  ‘Of course you have a gown,’ Anna told her. ‘You will wear Mama’s wedding gown, as did Dagmar.’

  ‘I am not as big as Dagmar,’ Alexandra wailed.

  ‘Then we will cut it down for you. Come along, Jennie. Oh, and Yevrentko,’—for the tutor had also appeared on the ground floor—‘tell Madame Rospowa that we need her immediately.’

  She grasped Alexandra’s arm and bustled her off, Jennie following, while Yevrentko hurried to the servants quarters to find the seamstress.

  The Prince took Charles’s arm. ‘You had better come with me and have a brandy; you look as though you could do with it.’

  ‘Yes,’ Charles agreed.

  ‘Charles, I realise this is a very sudden turn of events, but we must know how to react to such things. Am I not right in supposing that the moment my sister-in-law becomes the wife of an American citizen she herself becomes an American citizen?’

  ‘Yes, I believe she does. By God, Prince...’

  The Prince smiled. ‘As such, she would immediately be placed above the usual punishments for breaking Russian laws, certainly in such matters as sedition, while obviously, as an American, she could never be charged with treason. The worst that could be done to her would be deportation to the country of which she is a national.’ He held up his hand. ‘Believe me, Charles, I intend to do everything in my power to keep her out of mischief until you are in a position to carry her off. But it is better to be safe than sorry.’

  ‘You like to play with a lot of wild cards.’

  ‘I enjoy gambling. But I like to keep an ace in the hole, as they say. Now I suggest you go and prepare yourself for your wedding. While I go and inform my wife.’

  *

  Charles had hoped to have at least a moment alone with Alexandra before the ceremony, just to communicate with her on this suddenly changed level, to attempt to discover what she thought about it all. He knew only three things about his wife, and two of those things were not necessarily to her advantage: she was both a Bolugayevska and was, or ha
d been, an anarchist capable of plotting the death of her own father—or perhaps those were merely two sides of the same coin. In her favour was the single fact that she had expressed a wish to visit the United States.

  But there had been no prospect of a tete-a-tete; perhaps Anna and the Prince, who were the instigators of this entire business, were afraid of what might arise from such a meeting. It was of course disturbing to be undergoing what was in effect a shotgun marriage, when he had never even kissed the girl.

  But there she was, standing beside him, her hand in his, her face just visible beneath the gauze veil which hung from her white satin headdress—a family heirloom older than her dress—looking up at him with her enormous blue eyes, while Father Alexei intoned the service. What he was actually saying Charles had no idea, for it was all in Russian, and he had to rely on Jennie’s nods to reply when appropriate; his cousin was acting as matron of honour, and stood beside his bride. But now he was being gestured at to place the ring—another family heirloom—on Alexandra’s finger, and he gathered that they were man and wife.

  *

  The drinking began immediately. Charles had made a resolution to remain sober, but it was difficult, as glass after glass of champagne was handed to him. It seemed that everyone in the room had to kiss the bride, and then hurl his or her glass into the fireplace. But then, all the women had to kiss the groom, while the men shook his hand, each congratulation accompanied by another drink and a shattering of glass.

  *

  The wedding feast dissolved into wine and drunken laughter. Charles realised that his glass was again full, and that the room was slowly rotating about his head. He blinked, and belched, and tried to stand up—and had to down again; thank God he was apparently not required to make a speech. But he certainly needed to empty his bladder.

  He pushed himself up again, grinned owlishly at the many faces around him, staggered towards the door, and continued on his way to the Prince’s study and the downstairs privy that lay beyond. He pushed the doors open and stumbled in, releasing his breeches as he did so. He reflected that there was no feeling comparable, for a man, at least, of relieving himself when the necessity had been present for too long. He gave a great sigh of satisfaction, pulled the chain, and heard a movement behind him. He turned, saw that the study doors had been closed, and that Anna was turning the key in the lock.

  Hastily he completed the fastening of his breeches, while she smiled at him. ‘You are a modest fellow.’

  He had drunk sufficient to leave him entirely at ease, even with her barbs. ‘And are you not forbidden fruit?’

  Her smile widened as she came towards him. ‘Is that not the sweetest tasting of all?’

  ‘Countess, this is my wedding night approaching me.’

  ‘Which is why I am here. I am exercising my droit de seigneur.’

  ‘You?’

  ‘Well...’ She had now come right up to him. ‘I do not think Dagmar would care to. Or in fact, that you might care to with her; she might well slip a knife into your ribs between thrusts.’ She put her arms round his neck and stood on tiptoe to kiss him on the mouth.

  ‘Countess,’ he said, when she took her mouth away, ‘I am too drunk to play games. You are taking a grave risk.’

  ‘Who said anything about playing games?’ she asked. ‘You are not too drunk to perform, I hope?’ She moved away from him, and sat on the desk, raising her legs to rest her slippers on the arms of the Prince’s chair; her skirts slid back over her knees to her thighs, and Charles realised she was not wearing drawers. There could be no turning back now: this was what he had wanted from the first moment he had laid eyes on this woman. But he could still not believe that she wanted it too. Besides... ‘And when the Prince comes in?’

  ‘The Prince will not come in,’ she said. She allowed her knees to drop apart. ‘I should hate to suppose I had misjudged you, brother.’

  He moved forward, kicked the chair to one side, and was in her arms. Now she wrapped her legs round his thighs to bring him against her. His hands slid round her shoulders and he fumbled at the small buttons at the back of her bodice, feeling more than one rip away in his anxiety, but then, as her hands slid inside his drawers, his own could come back to the front and hold those magnificent breasts. ‘God,’ he muttered as he caressed her. ‘I fell in love with you the moment I saw you.’

  ‘You mean you fell in love with these. And this.’ She hugged him close again, and now it was flesh to flesh.

  ‘And what part of me did you fall in love with?’ he whispered into her ear as he drove himself into her.

  She did not reply until he was spent, but that was only a matter of seconds. Then she still clung to him. ‘Women do not love as men,’ she said, her head tilting back, her eyes a gleam of pleasure. ‘Which is not to say that I did not long to have you inside me. Or would not wish it again.’

  ‘That will not be practical for a little while.’

  ‘You mean never.’ She gave a delicious gurgle of laughter. ‘I must leave some of you for my baby sister. And then, you are departing tomorrow, are you not?’

  He was reluctant to leave her embrace, found her breasts again, and bent his head to suck her nipples. ‘Must it be never?’ he mumbled against her flesh.

  ‘Only if you would have it so.’

  He raised his head, kissed her mouth. ‘You mean the decision is mine? Well, then...’

  ‘I mean, you will have to come back to me, when you have fought and won your war.’

  ‘And you will be here, waiting for me?’

  ‘How possessive you are,’ she said. ‘I will certainly be here. As to whether I shall be waiting for you, that will depend upon the circumstances.’

  He stepped away from her. ‘Will you tell the Prince of this?’

  ‘I do not know.’

  He raised his head in surprise, having expected a negative answer. She smiled. ‘Are you afraid of him?’

  ‘In an equal land, no. Here on Bolugayen, he would have the advantage.’

  ‘Then I shall not tell him until after you have left.’ She eased herself off the desk, went into the privy where there was a basin and ewer, and returned with a wet cloth to wash him. ‘I would not have my baby sister become suspicious of you. Or me.’

  She dried him, and Charles dressed himself, his mind in a spin at having shared so much intimacy with such a beautiful woman. And with fear for her, too. ‘Are you not afraid of the Prince? Of what he might do to you?’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘I would enjoy whatever he might do to me.’

  He caught her arm. ‘Do you love him?’

  Her eyes became opaque. ‘He is my man.’

  ‘But insufficient.’

  She kissed him. ‘You are too arrogant. But then, so is Colin.’

  ‘I love you,’ he said. ‘I adore you. Say the word, and I would carry you off, regardless of the danger.’

  ‘I will not say the word, Charles. I do not wish you to be hurt.’

  ‘At least say that you have some feeling for me.’ He was behaving like a schoolboy, he knew.

  She kissed him. ‘I have invited you to return, and not only to collect Alix. Now we must rejoin the party; it will soon be time for you to meet the people. And then it will be time for you to perform again, with Alix. You leave first. I will come when the coast is clear.’

  *

  Time to perform again—with his wife. Charles did not know if he would be able to. Not only physically, but his New England personality was now riddled with guilt: married not two hours, and he had committed adultery! But it was not yet time, for as Anna had warned him, he and his bride had first to meet the people. They had completed their meal, and now flooded up the hill, hundreds of them, with their children and their dogs. The Prince beckoned Charles and Alexandra, and he and Dagmar walked the couple out on to the downstairs porch, where they were greeted by an enormous upsurge of congratulatory cheers. Then there was singing and dancing, in which the bride and groom were required to join. Cha
rles had no knowledge of either the words or the steps, but he found himself cavorting about the front drive, his arms wrapped round two buxom matrons, performing various movements with his feet and singing as lustily as any of them, while Alexandra faced him, supported by two of the men, face flushed and legs kicking, veil vanished and carefully dressed golden hair coming down in streaks on to her shoulders.

  At least, he reflected, he was being very rapidly sobered up, and so presumably was Alexandra, unlike the rest of the wedding party, which had now gone from champagne to vodka. And the marriage needed to be consummated. The Prince signalled Igor, and the butler blew a blast on his bugle. The music and dancing stopped, and the steaming tenants bowed to their betters. Still laughing and panting Alexandra took Charles’s hand and led him up the steps.

  *

  Charles was relieved, and indeed, delighted, to discover that his session with Anna had not inhibited him in any way, especially when presented with a carbon copy of her, physically, and a young woman who replaced inexperience with total enthusiasm. When he was spent she lay on him, legs still twined round his, hair collapsed in a mess on his face, while she kissed him again and again. ‘I think I have waited all of my life for this,’ she said. ‘Oh, Charles, you’re not going to be away for very long, are you?’

  ‘I hope not. But it will be at least a few months.’

  ‘And I will have to wait that time,’ she said sadly.

  ‘Will you fuck lots of women when we are separated?’

  ‘Right now that is an impossible concept,’ he said.

  ‘Will you fuck lots of men?’

  She pouted. ‘I do not think Anna and Colin would let me.’

  He raised his eyebrows. ‘You mean you would like to?’

  ‘Well...it is such a delightful sensation. Dagmar always told me it would hurt like blazes. But it didn’t hurt at all. Not really.’

  ‘Don’t you have any morals at all?’

  She kissed him. ‘Of course I have morals.’

  ‘But they don’t apply to sex.’

  ‘Well, of course not. Sex is too enjoyable to have morals about. It would be like attempting to apply morals to drinking.’