‘I am missing books terribly. Chakrabongse has subscribed to some Russian newspapers for me but I beg you, Vanya, to send me any Russian magazines and books, or I shall go mad.
‘Now that I have come to understand my future better, it begins to lose its rosy colour. Well, my husband was right when he told me in St Petersburg that it was a real sacrifice to go with him although not everyone would agree.
‘What is going on in Kiev? I wish I were there even for a single day – I am really longing for it. Sometimes I feel so sad that I am almost crying, but I must not for Chakrabongse’s sake, so I pretend to be cheerful. He might feel hurt if he realised there is a shadow darkening my happiness … Already, we are both looking forward to our trip to Moscow in two years time. Chakrabongse claims he will not allow me to go to Kiev alone as he is afraid our relations might prevent me from coming back yet, if he accompanies me, he is worried as to how he will be received. It seems that his Adjutant – who also has a Russian wife – is ignored by her relatives. But I reminded him of the incident you told me about when he was referred to the authorities and he simply told them when they questioned him: “But I am Prince Chakrabongse”. So when he told me about the Adjutant, I said “Well but you are Prince Chakrabongse” and we both burst out laughing as you had done. I am happy that you appreciate him and we are both really grateful to you for our being together now …
‘Write to me how they have all taken my marriage in Kiev – I am dying to know.
‘You must understand, dear Vanya, I feel so sorry for my past and that all was over between me and Igor. If we had not parted, I should not be going to Siam now, where God only knows how I shall be greeted. Shall I survive in that climate? Sometimes I feel really frightened.’
She ends with a final entreaty to send her books and adds the touching postscript:, ‘Don’t forget Katya.’
A week later Katya wrote again from Cairo that they had been shopping and that suits and shirts for her husband, and ‘a lot of blouses and bonnets for me have arrived at our hotel. I can’t recognise myself when I put them on – its so unfamiliar to me.’
‘Now I am alone. Chakrabongse is dining with the Russian Ambassador and I have had dinner in my room. There is too much glitter and show – all served in silver and each dish is more fancy than the one before. Even now I cannot believe my life has altered so much and, to tell the truth, I don’t feel at ease among all these dressy ladies. My life has been too simple to adjust to such a change so quickly, and although my husband is charming and is doing his best to make me happy, sometimes it is inevitable that no-one can help me.’
Thus while Katya’s mind could accept that Chakrabongse must leave her and go out to lunch and pay visits, her heart was hankering after the warmth and simplicity of her previous life. The language was also another major hurdle to be overcome but she reported that the Siamese ambassador has agreed to teach her Siamese, though warning he will be ‘very strict’.
‘In Suez, Chakrabongse’s adjutant, his wife and their two children will rejoin us. Our ship will be huge and therefore most comfortable. Is it really me who now stays in palatial hotels without any concern about luggage and so on, when I used to travel third or fourth class with lots of trunks and parcels and a cat?
‘Chakrabongse is very worried that I shall not stand the climate, but I feel heat is more bearable for me than cold – but there is no need to rack one’s brains beforehand, we’ll see what happens when summer comes.
‘I tease Lek – this is my husband’s Siamese nickname and means “little” – saying I shall lie in a cold bath all day and sleep at night under those famous electric fans! Anyway when we get to Bangkok, I’m going to play the piano, study Siamese and English, and go for drives as we’ll have a car.’
The Suez Canal.
Nevertheless Katya was unable to maintain this more cheerful note for long, making one of her characteristic, almost panic-stricken, modulations into a sombre minor key:
‘What will become of all this later? It terrifies me. Everything happened too quickly. My poor one, how much you had to endure in January. Thank you for everything, dear Vanya. But if all ends unhappily, I’ll take the blame because it was I, who undertook the whole thing. Let God be with you. Bless me too. Remember, from now on you’ll have a sister in Siam. Kissing you tenderly.’
On 19th February, Katya and Lek left Cairo and sailed for Siam via Port Said and Suez, where they were reunited as arranged with Chakrabongse’s adjutant, his Russian wife, Elena Nicholaievna, their two children and two nursemaids. In a letter to Ivan, Chakrabongse writes: ‘The trip was wonderful. The weather was good, and the sea was calm, so Katya didn’t suffer and was in good health all the time.’
With each passing day as Russia and the West receded still further, and the sounds and scents of the Far East took over, it sometimes seemed to Chakrabongse that he had never been away, for they reminded him only too sharply of the elaborate ceremonial, the inflexible protocol and respectful obedience to the demands of his royal position that awaited him in Siam. To him it was a way of life familiar from childhood, but how would it seem to the young woman at his side whom his ardent love had torn away from her native land and brought many thousands of miles, not, as he would have wished, to a warm welcome, but to face shock, dismay and bitter anger from the King and Queen and the Royal family?
Far away in St Petersburg, his passion for her had blinded him, but now, trying to visualise his eagerly awaited return as an eligible prince of the blood, not alone as expected, but accompanied by an alien wife of a different race and creed, he unwillingly concluded that news of his marriage must be ‘broken gently’. Therefore, after much torturous soul-searching, he decided to leave Katya with Elena Nicholaievna in Singapore and proceed to Bangkok without her. As he wrote to Ivan: ‘It would have been absolutely impossible if we both came to Bangkok. A lot of ceremonies will be held especially for me, and Katya in this case would not be comfortable and her situation would be very complicated. So even though I want us to be always together and although my heart was broken at leaving her, I believe she had to stay behind for our common good.’
Although this parting may well have been for their common good, Katya understandably felt it deeply and, in a poignant letter of 19th March, intended to reach Elisaveta Ivanovna Chrapovitskya in time for Easter, she confessed her fears for the future and her impatience with her present situation. Unfortunately, Elena Nicholaievna (referred to in shortened form as El. Nick by Katya) had not proved to be a congenial or lively companion:
‘I stay on in Singapore in anguish. It is the eleventh day so far. Although El. Nick. is a tender wife and mother, she thinks of nothing but her children and, during the whole day, I have to hear what they have eaten, when they will have a bath and so on. Occasionally we go for a short drive, but still always with the children who are often naughty and capricious. Otherwise she just sits on the terrace or in her room where she even has dinner as she is afraid to leave her precious children with the nursemaids. And, although I feel great respect of such an ideal mother, to tell you the truth I am almost dying in this nursery atmosphere, particularly as we have no idea when we will be leaving.