Chapter Text
It was late, even by St. Petersburg standards. Despite this, the revelers at the soiree were as spirited now when the sun was no more than a half-hour from sending its brilliant yellow tendrils creeping through the city’s promenades, as they had been at the party’s onset. Champagne corks continued to pop, and waves of laughter erupted from the corners of the garden.
A young man in a ridiculously flouncy cravat and most definitely intoxicated swayed toward Marina Petrovna. She edged backward, frowning at the man’s grand and sloppy movement. He smiled at her outrageously with a huge grin full of teeth and breath full of whisky. Oh where has Yevgeny gone?, she thought.
Marina Petrovna, lithe and petite, routinely drew many admirers. They stared at her in the street, approached her at parties, and gawked at her in the taverns and shops of St. Petersburg. She was accustomed to their overly friendly behavior. She was something of a celebrity, and celebrities drew attention. After five years, she had become adept at graciously extracting herself from men who took too many liberties. She could exit with her reputation intact, her pursuers having been subjected to, at most, a gentle admonishment.
Tonight’s festivities seemed to have attracted an unusually large number of boorish fans and Marina was growing weary of their slobbering sophisms intended to woo her. She wanted Yevgeny Andreievich to whisk her away. to take her back to the apartment that he had acquired for their use. It wasn’t grand, this apartment. And it wasn’t located in a prosperous part of town. But it was their nest, their secluded spot out of the spotlight and beyond the reach of society.
She saw him then, striding across the lawn towards her. He held a cluster of deep-pink roses, probably snatched from the host’s hothouse. Yevgeny was always plucking flowers from the gardens of the nobility, helping himself to fine cognac in friend’s sitting rooms, and borrowing horses and cabs from the neighbors. When Marina first met him, she admonished his audacity. Yevgeny made light of his actions, professing that no one would come to any harm. The masters whose stores Yevgeny took advantage of never did seem to complain. It did not take long for Marina to appreciate Yevgeny’s boldness. Pages of dried rose petals filled her small prayer book, all of them from Yevgeny Andreievich, and none of them costing him a kopeck.
Yevgeny Pirotsky arrived at her side and offered her the bouquet of fragrant flowers and his dashing smile. Marina thought that no one could help but be light-hearted when Yevgeny smiled at them. His large white teeth encased by thin peony-pink lips conveyed joviality and delight that lit up his whole face and mimicked the twinkle in his eye. A few of her more sober admirers moved off when Yevgeny materialized, and he quickly shooed away the remaining hangers-on, creating a bubble of privacy for the two of them.
“Shall we dance, Marina?” Yevgeny cooed at her, pressing his lips softly to her ear as he caught her around the waist.
“Oh, Yevgeny, it is so late,” Marina demurred. “Let us retire for the evening…Return to the apartment. It is practically morning.”
Yevgeny pulled away to look at Marina’s face. “You do seem tired. You go on. I’ll find you a cab.”
“You aren’t coming?” Marina asked, disappointment evident in her tone.
“My darling, there is an important person of distinction who has just arrived, and I must meet with them. It would not do well for me to show disrespect by flitting away now.”
Marina frowned at Yevgeny’s pronouncement. “I do need to speak with you, Yevgeny. I was hoping to wait until we arrived at the apartment…but, here will do, I suppose.”
“What is it, my love?”
Marina breathed deeply before speaking. “Do you remember that you told me never to worry, Yevgeny? That you would be happy and take care of us if I was…with child?”
Yevgeny Andreievich’s expression faltered for a moment, but he immediately regained his genial demeanor. He gently took hold of Marina’s arms and placed a light kiss on her cheek.
“Of course, I will take care of you, My Star. Is it a boy, do you think?”
“You are happy, then?” Marina asked. She felt that he was, but it was still a frightening prospect. Pregnant, unmarried women quickly fell to the lowest rank of society, no matter how celebrated they had been before.
“Yes, of course, Marina, My Dear.” Yevgeny avowed. “Now, you should go home and rest. I will be there as soon as I can.”
—
The young woman clad in a green-and-white striped cotton gown of a style that was popular four years ago wandered uncomfortably about the arboretum. The soiree was the first affair she had attended in St. Petersburg on such a scale. The estate was immense. The guests were adorned in ornate gowns designed in Paris and London, and they feasted on lamb and duck, caviar-stuffed blini, multi-layered pastries, and an infinite supply of sparkling wine. She felt out of place but was mesmerized by the lavishness.
“Kroshka!” Nina Neginskaya called from inside the pavilion that was perched atop a slow-rising hill amid the estate’s cluster of aspens. The woman hurried inside and took the seat that Nina indicated.
Nina Arkadievna sat alone in the makeshift suite. She held a half-full flute of sparkling wine, Her attention was directed to the dancing and merriment playing out on the lawns in the distance. Kroshka sat on the edge of the cushioned bench and fussed at her laced gloves, uncertain of the proper etiquette. She watched the hems of the embroidered curtains that closed in the space billow out with the morning breeze and sway gently across the grass.
“You have done well, Kroshka,” Nina said, still attending to the festivities as she addressed the other woman. Kroshka stopped her fiddling and looked at the profile of the lady-in-waiting to the empress. The noblewoman’s glossy dark hair was swept up into an elegant French twist surrounded by dramatic, wide ringlets. Teardrop earrings glistened, reflecting the light from the candles and lamps that adorned the space and complemented the stones that trimmed her powder-blue bodice of silk and lace.
“I require a particular item in Miss Mironova’s possession. And you will get it for me.” Nina stated plainly, turning to face her. The younger woman straightened her posture and shifted nervously. Kroshka’s eyes darted up to briefly connect with Neginskaya’s gaze.
“Our tsaritsa gifted Miss Mironova a silver letter opener a few months ago. The crest of the House of Romanov is engraved on the handle. It should be easily identifiable.”
Kroshka raised her eyes again as Neginskaya paused in her discourse. The two women regarded each other without comment for a moment.
“Of course, you will be well compensated for this extra effort, my dear Kroshka,” Nina continued. “How is your sister faring? Are her new lodgings acceptable?”
“Yes, quite acceptable,” Kroshka stammered. “Thank you.”