‘The faith of your fathers, Kerim!’ she would say beguilingly. ‘It’s in your blood – surely you must feel it! Tradition, reverence, the old ways! Let me get Father Grigori to come to you tomorrow and talk to you.’
Kerim bore it all in silence, until Nyanka was driven through frustration to begin tugging at his sleeve; and then, more often than not, a childish slapping-match would break out, and they would finish by throwing handfuls of flour at each other, Kerim proving himself thereby far more Russian than French.
‘Why did you become a Roman Catholic?’ Anne asked him once.
‘To honour Monsieur Bertin, my teacher,’ Kerim said. ‘No man could cook like that, unless the Grace of God were in him. What was good enough for my Master was good enough for me.’
With the Count away, and no entertainments in the offing, things were quiet in the kitchen, and Kerim was only too glad to set aside what he was doing and spend the morning making sweets. He enveloped the children in white aprons, tying the tapes with his own hands; set them on stools so that they could see; and made a batch of lemon drops – hard, almost transparent sweets made from boiled sugar-water flavoured with lemon juice. Fräulein Hoffnung was particularly addicted to lemon drops. Anne had discovered that her long-suffered pain was partly bad teeth, and partly severe digestive troubles, the one perhaps being connected with the other.
The sugar-boiling was too dangerous, in Kerim’s view, for the children to do more than watch, but he allowed them to help make other things, like ‘green roses’, a Crimean sweet made of marzipan, and ‘mountain’, a sticky white confection which he said was a Turkish delicacy. They made sugar-plums, too, and candied almonds, which were set aside in a cool store for the dessert course of dinner. They finished by making a particular Russian favourite called marmelad, a sort of fruit jelly, pink or white with a hardish outside and a soft, almost liquid centre, which Anne could see one could easily grow too fond of.
They were happily occupied about these pleasant tasks, and Kerim was telling Anne about his early days in Moscow when he had cooked for the English Club in Arbat Square, and had just embarked on some more eye-rolling and hints about his tragedy when Nyanka came rushing in, greatly excited, to say that the master had arrived home, and began at once tweaking at the children’s apron strings and patting at their hair.
Anne’s heart gave a violent lurch of excitement and happiness, which shocked her, and she spent an unnecessary minute or two straightening Yelena’s dress to give herself time to bring her thoughts back under control, while Yelena, frantic to run upstairs to see Papa, struggled like a bird under her hands. When Anne mounted the steps at last, she did so calmly and with a tranquil smile of welcome already prepared for her lips; but it was of no use. The Count was in the great hall, still in his driving-coat of white drab, while a smiling Vasky held his hat and gloves; the Countess stood beside him, her hands clasping and unclasping before her, and Yelena was bouncing up and down on the spot in order to release some of the intolerable pressure of excitement. As Anne appeared at the door, with Nyanka and Natasha behind her, the Count turned and looked at her with such a friendly, glad smile, that all her resolve melted like spring snow in the sun, and she could only smile back at him, with all her heart in her face.
‘Miss Peters, there you are! How good it is to see you! Have you taken good care of everything while I was away? And there’s my little Nemetzka! Come and kiss me, doushenkal Yelena Nikolayevna, you’ve grown two inches! Haven’t you a kiss for me?’ With Natasha in his arms, Yelena tugging at his elbow, and the Countess standing very close to him as though he gave out warmth like a fire, he moved towards the drawing-room, talking about Petersburg and his journey. Anne, well pleased with her share of the greeting, followed with the footman carrying his cloak bag.
‘Petersburg was very hot and amazingly crowded. I don’t know what everyone was doing there, when they ought to have been at their dachas, but it made it more pleasant for me, when I was not occupied at the court or with the minister,’ the Count said, shedding his daughters and his coat and sitting down on the long sofa. ‘The Kovalskis were there, and Uncle Petya Basarov, and the Poliakovs, just arrived and on their way to the country. They asked after you, Miss Peters, and I gave them a good report of your health and happiness. I hope I was right?’
Anne could only nod, still a little bemused at her happiness in seeing him again.
‘Did you see the Empress?’ the Countess asked.
‘No, she was indisposed again, poor creature, but the letter from her mother will do her good. The family was at Orianenbaum, of course. I saw the Emperor and the Empress Dowager. They were eager to hear all about my visit to Karlsruhe – not that there was much to tell, but d’Enghien is a great favourite with them both.’
‘And what did they say about the war with England?’
‘The Tsar didn’t say anything much about it. Of course, he is thoroughly disillusioned with Bonaparte, ever since he had himself made Consul-for-life, and he has always had a passionate admiration for everything English.’
Anne was intrigued. ‘I didn’t know that your Emperor–’ she began.
‘Oh yes,’ the Count nodded. ‘I think in his heart he would rather like to see a parliamentary system like yours in Russia – though with the power balanced a little more in favour of the throne. Certainly there are many senior ministers around him who would like us to move in that direction, and Alexander knows that the administrative apparatus is desperately in need of reshaping. He is not an autocrat by nature. He was brought up by his grandmother, the great Catherine, and she had liberal principles. She even flirted with republicanism at one time, until the revolution in France disenchanted her. She had Alexander educated the same way – he read Rousseau in his youth, you know,’ he added with a smile at Anne.
‘But Russia could never be a republic, Nikolai,’ the Countess said, frowning.
‘Of course not, Irushka – no one suggested it,’ the Count said patiently. ‘Everything that has happened in France has tended to make the Tsar and his ministers see the dangers involved in too much reform; yet something must be done to revise our governmental system. So they turn more and more away from France and towards England.’
‘Then, do you think that Russia will enter the war on England’s side?’ Anne asked tentatively.
‘It depends very much on what Bonaparte does next. The war is not Russia’s war, as yet, and God knows we can’t afford to get involved. But the Tsar is still young for his age, and idealistic, and if anything should happen to provoke him… The decision, you see, would be entirely his. However, for the moment at least, we shall remain neutral. And now, from politics to more important matters! I am home again, and ready to be amused. We must have a dinner, Irushka, and show Miss Peters what Schwartzenturm looks like en grande tenue. I should like to ask the Poliakovs, and who else? The Tchaikovskys are in the country, are they not?’
‘Yes, and the Tiranovs.’
‘And how would it be if we asked Shoora and Vsevka to come and stay?’
‘Oh yes, Papa!’ Yelena said at once. ‘And Kira and Vanya too!’
‘Of course, doushka,’ the Count said, and then, to Anne, ‘My younger sister, Alexandra, and her husband, who live in Moscow. They have two children, a son Ivan, and the daughter Kira, who is Lolya’s great friend.’