‘Yes, she mentioned her the day I arrived,’ Anne said. ‘The one who is going to be an opera singer.’
‘That’s right,’ the Count laughed. ‘Kira always seems to have some unsuitable ambition. We’ve always taken it in turn to visit each other but I’ve been away so much lately, I expect we’ve got out of sequence. Vsevka’s family – the Danilovs – are the great family of armament makers. Vsevka inherited a big factory in Tula, about a hundred miles from Moscow, and another in Kiev. He’ll be one person who does hope Russia will go to war with France!’
Yelena had been eyeing the cloak-bag all this time, and making a very noble attempt to possess her soul in patience, but now her restraint snapped, and she pressed her father’s arm and said, ‘Did you bring me a present, Papa? You always bring me something from Petersburg.’
‘Yes, I did, little Avarice. I brought presents for everyone, and you shall have yours right away. Oh, by the way, Miss Peters, I brought you some very nice barathea for your riding habit. Vasky will send it up to your room. I hope you like the colour – here is a sample of it.’
He brought out of his bag a small sample square and gave it to her. It was a very dark red, between wine and terracotta, which Anne saw at once would suit her perfectly. She felt warm with gratitude, not only for the kindness, but for the personal quality of it, which made it doubly valuable.
‘It’s perfect,’ she said. ‘I don’t know how to thank you, sir!’
‘Then don’t,’ he said genially. ‘As I said before, you must have something to ride in. It’s English cloth, by the way. Isn’t that appropriate?’
‘I have the pattern upstairs which was used for my habit,’ the Countess said in her soft voice. ‘I’m sure you will be able to adapt it for yourself. If you do the cutting-out yourself, we can have Marya Petrovna make it up for you.’
‘You are most kind, madame,’ Anne said, and sat stroking the sample square with thoughtful fingers as she watched Yelena and Natasha attack the presents the Count was bringing out for them from his apparently bottomless bag.
The following day dawned fine, and the whole family went on a picnic. They took the barouche, with Castor and Pollux to draw it, and the caliche with Limonchik between the shafts.
‘Bring your sketching-book,’ the Count advised Anne cheerfully. ‘We are going to the waterfall, our favourite picnic place, and you’ll find it well worth the effort of putting pencil to paper.’
It was quite a caravan which set off. The Count drove the barouche himself with Yelena on the box beside him, anxious to take the reins whenever he would relinquish them to her, and Fräulein Hoffnung, Nyanka, and Natasha inside. The Countess drove Anne in the caliche, and promised to teach her to drive by the time they reached the picnic place.
‘It is really very easy,’ she said, ‘and Limonchik knows his business so well, anyone could drive him.’
Third in the procession came a kibitka driven by Morkin, containing the food hampers, plates and glasses and knives and forks, rugs to sit on, a table with folding legs from which to serve the food, four servants to attend them, food for them, and all the other things such as parasols, shawls, books, towels and a balalaika, which anyone was likely to need.
They drove in the direction of the wooded high ground that Anne had seen from the terrace, but which was too far away for her to have visited yet. As they came nearer, she could see that it was an outcrop, sloping and turfed in some places, but with bare, sheer faces like low cliffs in others. Various shrubs and trees grew on the slopes, and at the top, where it became a plateau, the woodland began. It was not very high, not more than about fifty feet at its highest, but in the predominantly level land all around, it stood out.
The waterfall they were aiming for was where a small stream tumbled about twenty feet down one of the sheer faces, making a pool at the bottom before it again became a stream, running down eventually to join the wider stream on which the granary and distillery were built. By the pool itself there was a broad, grassy lawn of close turf, and a scattering of birch, hazel and alder which gradually thickened into denser, darker woods beyond.
‘It’s a pretty place, isn’t it?’ said the Countess as Anne, who had taken over the reins, drew the caliche to a halt behind the barouche. ‘There are lovely orchids at this time of year, and wild clematis, and in the spring, primroses – you never saw so many–’
‘And don’t forget the zemlyanika,’ said the Count, coming to hand his wife down. ‘Wild strawberries, Miss Peters. Tiny and scented, and they make the best jam of all. Aren’t you glad I made you bring your pencils?’
‘Yes, very,’ Anne said, accepting his hand in her turn.
Yelena was bursting with energy, and wanted to show Anne everything, and insisted that she must see the waterfall from above as well as from below. There was a rough path leading up the broken slope to the side of the waterfall, and Anne regarded it doubtfully, for it looked as though it would be something of a scramble. Yelena might do it easily on all fours, but that would be rather beyond a grown woman’s dignity.
‘Oh you must come, you must!’ Yelena cried passionately. ‘Everyone has to see it from the top. Papa, tell her she must.’
The Count, seeing the problem, said genially, ‘I think you might attempt it, Miss Peters, with a little help. There are only two difficult places, and if I were to go first, I could pull you up.’
Anne glanced at the Countess, who said placidly, ‘Do go, if you wish. I am quite content just to sit here.’
‘We’ll wave to you from the top, Mamochka,’ Yelena promised generously, taking it as settled. She scampered off, and Anne and the Count followed more soberly.
‘It is wonderful to see the freedom of movement children have today,’ the Count remarked, watching his daughter with an indulgent smile. ‘When my sisters were Lolya’s age, they wore stiff brocade gowns, with boned bodices and hoops in the skirts. They couldn’t have climbed up that hill, even if they had been allowed to. But now, with just a muslin gown and thin petticoats… ’
‘Yes,’ said Anne. ‘Even in my own childhood, I remember grown-up ladies wearing panniers and false rumps. It surprises me to think how much they managed to do, with such handicaps. Even getting into a carriage must have been a struggle.’
The path was easy enough, with the Count’s strong hand to pull her upwards and steady her, and they were soon at the top.
‘There, look, you can see the house. It looks very English from here, doesn’t it? And over there, in the trees, you can just see a chimney – no there! Do you see it now? That’s the distillery.’
‘And how far does your estate go?’ Anne asked, looking out over the plain.
‘As far as the eye can see – that is what one should answer to such a question, isn’t it, Anna Petrovna?’ the Count teased. ‘Do you know,’ he added musingly, ‘the thing that has always troubled me about the devil tempting Our Lord on the high place, was that he could not have offered Him all the kingdoms of the earth, unless they were his to give.’
‘Deep thoughts, sir,’ she said, amused, and turned her head to look at him. He was close beside her, and she had to tilt her head upwards to see his face. He was smiling that closed-mouthed, enigmatic smile she had come to know so well. He had left off his hat, and the breeze ruffled the ends of his silken hair which lay across his forehead. A cloud shadow followed the breeze, and the sun, coming after, lay across his smooth tan skin like butter. His green-gold eyes looked directly into hers, as if there were no distance between them. Everything seemed to Anne to pause a moment, and it was as if in that moment she received through all her senses a complete and exact knowledge of him, of everything he was, the essential core of him – perhaps his soul. She was alive to him, dangerously, sensitively, and she felt that he was aware of her in the same way.