Chapter Six
‘Where are we going?’
‘I am taking you sightseeing.’
Aleksei led her out into the garden. The night sky was clear, the air chilly as he led her along a path to the perimeter wall, producing a key which opened a wooden door set into it. To Allison’s surprise, they emerged on to the banks of the Moyka River. A large boathouse jutted out into the water. Aleksei produced a second key and, as she stepped warily into the gloomy interior, she could hear the gentle lapping of the waters against the wooden supports. She had no sense of the scale of the building itself until he lit a lamp, at which point she found her jaw dropping at this latest demonstration of the Derevenko’s vast wealth. ‘Good grief!’
‘My father’s idea,’ Aleksei said of the huge barge which took up most of the mooring, dwarfing the smaller, everyday boat moored alongside it. ‘He took to heart the idea that St Petersburg was the Venice of the north, and had this built, modelled on a craft in one of the Italian painter Canaletto’s waterscapes. It’s monstrous, isn’t it?’
‘Magnificently so,’ Allison agreed, reaching out to touch the high gold-painted stern on which was perched a carved image of the same bird which was carved over the entrance to the palace.
The barge sat low in the water, surrounded on three sides by wooden decking. Though the hull was painted white, it seemed to her that everything else, including the rudder, was covered in gold. A huge throne-like chair was built into the shelter of the stern, covered in crimson velvet. A cabin—if such a thing could be called a cabin—was constructed in the centre of the barge, the roof supported by wooden pilasters painted to look like marble. She made her way along the decking, counting the places for the oarsmen, Aleksei holding the lantern aloft for her. ‘Eighteen. It must be tremendously hard work.’
‘Impossibly hard,’ Aleksei said. ‘I took one of the places once. It’s far too heavy, utterly impractical. Unless you run with the tide, you need horses to help tow it. It’s only used on state occasions, and then, obviously, only in the summer months. In the winter, every river and canal in St Petersburg freezes over. You ought to see the sleigh my father had built for those occasions,’ he added, with one of his mocking smiles. ‘Imagine something similar to this, only with runners. Come on, let me show you inside.’
It was a short step from the decking on to the barge, where Aleksei was already holding open the door to the covered area. Allison stepped through into a surprisingly small space, made sumptuous with velvet and furs, and glinting with more gold leaf.
Aleksei set the lantern down on the highly polished table, then threw himself on to the sofa. ‘My head aches with questions. I was so sure that I would find that woman. I don’t know what to do next.’
Allison sat down beside him, taking his hand between hers. ‘It will come to you. What you need to do is stop fretting about it for a while.’
‘You’re right.’ He rolled his shoulders, visibly relaxing, pulling her closer to him. ‘Tell me, have any of the servants come to you seeking a love potion? Does such a thing exist?’
‘Oh, they exist, all right, but they do not work. No elixir can compel someone to fall in love, though there are any number of quacks who will sell you something they swear will do just that. I never would. To have to ask for such a thing in the first place must surely mean that it’s a lost cause. It is cruel to offer hope when there is none.’
‘You think so, under any circumstances?’ Aleksei asked seriously. ‘I have had men—boys—mortally wounded, dying on the battlefield and begging to be told that they will live to see their loved ones again, while their lifeblood ebbs from them. I always lied, without compunction. Is that truly so wrong?’
The shadow of that last death, the mother’s desperate pleas came back to her. Had she lied? She could not recall. ‘No, I don’t think that is wrong at all. I reckon I would do the same,’ Allison replied. ‘I cannot imagine the horrors and the suffering you have had to witness.’
‘And inflicted, in the name of my country. It is ironic, is it not, that here we sit, you who have a vocation for healing, and I who have made a career out of killing.’
‘You are a soldier, not a murderer.’
He shook his head, looking grim. ‘There are times when there is a very fine line between the two. I’m not sure I have the stomach for the kind of wars our Emperor will wage now. More territory seized. More people put into servitude. More unnecessary deaths.’
‘So you plan to leave the army, then?’
Aleksei sat up, shaking his head. ‘I have not thought that far ahead,’ he said dismissively. ‘We’re in danger of running out of sightseeing time. I thought we’d take a trip out on the water.’
‘You’re teasing me. Wouldn’t we need another eighteen oarsmen?’
‘I don’t mean in this lumbering behemoth.’ He got to his feet, pulling her with him. ‘Being out on the water is the best way to see the true beauty of the city—and it is beautiful. When it is asleep, at peace under the stars, there is nowhere more beautiful than St Petersburg. Come, let me show it to you.’
* * *
Intrigued, she followed him to the far end of the deck, where he set about turning a large wheel which caused the riverside doors of the boathouse to slowly open. A set of steps led down to a small rowing boat, bobbing in the shadow of the barge. He leapt lightly into it, holding out his hand for her, though Allison needed no assistance, gathering the heavy folds of her cloak around her before climbing nimbly aboard.
‘You’ve done that before.’
‘Countless times,’ she said, flashing him a smile. ‘Fishing is a way of life where I come from. I can row too, I’m very proficient.’
‘I don’t doubt it, but you’ll get a better view if you sit there.’ He pointed at the wooden bench in the stern, which was strewn with pillows, a large blanket, neatly folded, placed on top.
She did as she was bid and tucked the blanket snugly around her, thinking that she did indeed have the perfect view as she watched Aleksei place the oars in the rowlocks and untie the boat from its moorings. He was wearing top boots and breeches, a wide-skirted coat, but no greatcoat. His movements were fluid, easy and graceful. Seated facing her on the middle bench, he nudged the craft away from the decking with the blade of an oar, expertly easing the little boat out of the boathouse and on to the river, heading upstream.
The sky above her was indigo blue, peppered with stars dimmed by the brightness of the full moon. On the opposite bank, a party of late-night revellers were singing something that sounded like a sea shanty. And in front of her, his legs braced, oars set, Aleksei smiled.
Allison smiled back. ‘What are you waiting for, oarsman?’ she said, with an imperious wave of her arm. ‘Show me your city.’
He gave a little bow, then began to row with the seemingly effortless strokes of an expert, past two stone supports which were being constructed on either bank. ‘The newest bridge, to be made of iron, and it’s reputed it will be the biggest in St Petersburg,’ he explained. ‘When Peter the Great built the city, there were hardly any bridges. He imagined us as Venetians in the summer, making our way about the city in boats.’
‘And sleds in the winter. I wish I could see that, but it’s not to be unfortunately.’
‘We’re passing under the Red Bridge now. And the next one we come to is officially the Police Bridge, but everyone knows it as the Green Bridge.’
It was a beautiful night. She had forgotten how soothing the sound of oars dipping into water was, the rhythmic tug of the small craft easing forward with each pull. Though it was late, there were lights twinkling in the windows of some of the majestic buildings lining the quays. They passed numerous boathouses, large and small, any number of little jetties, boats nodding at their moorings.
‘It is magical,’ Allison said softly. ‘It feels as if we are the only people in the city, as if it is laid out like this just for us, like some sort of dream world.’
Aleksei pulled the oars in, and let the little boat drift idly, holding out his hand to invite her to sit beside him. ‘When I was a boy, I used to come out here at night to escape. I’d row for hours up river, all the way into the countryside. When you see it from there, the city is like a mystical island rising up from nowhere. It looks—I don’t know, impossible that it could exist. Like a dream world, exactly as you said.’
‘I’d love to see that. It’s a shame we don’t have time.’
‘Another night, perhaps.’
The bench was narrow. His arm was clasped loosely around her waist. The night air was salty, fresh. Aleksei was warm, one leg pressed against hers, the other braced on one of the rowing boat’s ribs. ‘I used to negotiate the many canals with ease. I’d probably get lost now, there has been so much building since I was last here.’
She turned slightly, the better to see his face. ‘Don’t you miss it at all?’
‘I miss this. It feels so familiar, as if I was born with a map of it engraved on my heart. Despite what I said, I don’t for a moment think I’d ever get lost. I expect you think that sounds ridiculously fanciful.’
‘No.’ Allison let her head rest on his shoulder. ‘I feel the same about Strachur, the village where I was raised, and the whole network of drovers’ roads and ferries around that part of Argyll. I could find my way through the forests with my eyes closed, even after seven years away. It is in my blood.’
Aleksei pulled her closer, resting his chin on her head. ‘Don’t you ever think of returning?’
‘There is nothing for me there now that Seanmhair has gone.’
‘Shen-a-vair,’ Aleksei pronounced carefully. ‘Is this Scottish?’
‘Gaelic.’
‘In Russian we say babushka. I never knew any of my grandparents. Your babushka sounds like a very wise woman.’
‘You must not be imagining some fluffy, white-haired, apple-cheeked old lady, you know.’
‘Nor a witch, even?’
Allison chuckled. ‘No, though my grandmother would most likely have found that description flattering. She was, as the saying goes, as hard as the stag’s horn and as prickly as a thistle. She had a heart of gold too, but she kept it very much hidden from view.’
‘And was there never anyone in this little Scottish village, who wished to claim you from this dragon of a grandmother?’
She lifted her head to meet his eyes. ‘An admirer, you mean? Youthful flirtations, nothing more. Though in London, there was a man.’
She turned away from him to stare out at the water. She had never discussed Robert with anyone, rarely thought of him at all, once she had cut him from her life. She had no obligation to explain herself to Aleksei, but she wanted to. She had not permitted herself to imagine that their liaison would lead to making love but the possibility was there, and now she did think about it...
‘When I first came to London, after my grandmother died, I was very lonely,’ Allison said. ‘This man and I, we became friends. And then...’ She forced herself to turn back to Aleksei, hoping that the darkness would hide her blushes. ‘You see I thought he felt as I did,’ she continued awkwardly, ‘that when we became lovers, it was simply a—a natural progression, though not one I wished to take further.’
‘But he did not think the same way, I take it?’
‘No,’ she agreed sadly. She hated herself for having, albeit inadvertently, caused such hurt. ‘He wanted us to marry, but for me that was out of the question. I was but a year in London, my list of patients expanding, but I was still nowhere near established. In the end it was an easy choice for me, but he took it badly, and I regret that.’
‘Though not the decision.’
‘No. He told me I was cold-hearted, but it’s not that. I have a heart, but it is reserved for my patients, there is nothing left over for anyone else. My vocation means everything to me, Aleksei. And for a woman, a calling and a family are quite incompatible.’
‘For a soldier too.’
‘I hadn’t thought of that. Is that why you have never married?’
‘Because I’m married to the army, that old chestnut?’
‘Well, is it true? There has never been anyone—you’ve never been in love?’
‘I’ve never been in one place long enough.’
‘So you don’t believe in love at first sight, then?’
‘A coup de foudre? The only fatal blows I am familiar with come from a sabre or a cannon ball. As to love—I’ve enjoyed numerous affaires.’ Aleksei frowned down at the river. ‘Lovemaking is the perfect antidote to making war—an unpalatable thought perhaps, though true none the less. But for me that’s all it has ever been, an idyll between battles, I’ve never wanted more. Like you,’ he said, ‘my passion has been for my vocation, to serve my country.’
‘And now?’
‘I have no idea, and until we have resolved the mystery—but there you see, I’ve brought the conversation back round to the subject we said we would avoid.’
‘Then we’ll stop talking, and simply enjoy the view.’
‘It is a very enjoyable view,’ Aleksei said, angling himself towards her.
‘I was thinking the very same myself,’ Allison agreed with a teasing smile, ‘when I was watching you clamber into the boat.’
‘Miss Galbraith, were you admiring my rear?’ He pulled her into his arms. ‘If so, I should confess that I have, from the moment I first set eyes upon you, been very much an admirer of yours.’
‘Aleksei!’
‘Allison.’ The way he said her name made her mouth go dry. ‘You can have no idea how very, very worthy of admiration your rear is since it is quite literally behind you,’ he said, sliding one hand down her back to cup her bottom, ‘but believe me, it is.’
‘If that is an attempt at a compliment, it is a novel one.’
She felt the rumble of his laughter. She felt the soft whisper of his breath on her face. ‘It is not a compliment, it is the truth.’
Her heart began to pound. He was going to kiss her. She wanted him to kiss her. Ached for him to kiss her. She slipped her arms around his neck and angled her head in mute invitation. And he accepted it with alacrity.
The taste of him made her head spin. A hunger she had never experienced before ravened her as their lips met. She wanted to savour him, and at the same time to devour him. She felt torn, her body clamouring for release, but at the same time demanding deliciously protracted pleasure. She had never felt like this. She didn’t want to feel like this. She wanted nothing more.
They clung to each other, their mouths locked, tongues touching, darting, thrusting, and hands, feverish hands seeking skin where there was only clothing. Aleksei’s breathing was ragged. Hers was shallow. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes heavy-lidded. She didn’t doubt his desire was as strong as her own as he cupped her breasts, stroked her back, the curve of her bottom.
Only when he tried to lift her closer, and the boat rocked wildly, one of the oars falling into the water, did they come to their senses. Flailing for the oar, Allison would have toppled in, had Aleksei not caught her.
‘I think,’ he said ruefully, pulling her back to safety before reaching for the oar, ‘that someone somewhere is trying to tell us something.’
‘By dousing us with cold water, you mean?’
A clock chimed in the distance. ‘Or reminding us that tomorrow is rapidly approaching, and that our sightseeing expedition must end, for the time being.’
‘You’re right.’ She settled herself reluctantly on the rear bench.
He leaned over, cupping her face and their cold lips met once more. ‘I earnestly wish I was not.’
‘So do I.’ She pulled him closer, kissing him fiercely. ‘So do I.’
* * *
Morning broke too quickly for Allison. Having lain awake for hours reliving their kisses, her body thrumming with frustrated anticipation, she had fallen into a deep sleep just as the sun rose, only to be awakened what seemed like a mere five minutes later, by Natalya bringing her tea.
The children were fretful, Catiche sullen, Elena determined upon mischief, finally succeeding when she deliberately tore the ear from Nikki’s favourite knitted rabbit, resulting in an epic tantrum and a storm of tears which summoned the almost-deaf nanny from her room.
By now extremely relieved to surrender her charges to the old woman’s care, Allison resisted the temptation to return to her chamber and, with more than two hours to spare before she was due to open up her dispensary, decided to explore the succession houses again. She was in the first of the glasshouses, a fernery, eyeing the incongruous statue of a completely naked Aphrodite set under a palm tree, when the creak of the door alerted her to another presence.
‘I saw you from the study window, and followed you here.’ Aleksei was dressed in his formal uniform, freshly shaved, and looking ridiculously, sinfully attractive.
‘Good morning. The children were...’ She bit her tongue. He wasn’t in the least bit interested in the children’s mood. ‘I thought I’d take another look to see if I’ve missed anything.’
‘I am going to miss you.’ He took her hand, made to kiss it, then changed his mind, pulling her suddenly into his arms and kissing her lips instead.
‘Aleksei! You must not—what do you mean, you will miss me? Where are you going?’
‘I’ve been thinking. Since I couldn’t sleep last night, my—my mind being over-stimulated...’
‘Aleksei!’
He held up his hands in mock surrender. ‘I was thinking about my next move, and I came back to the question of possible motive. It is a long shot, but I thought it was worth trying to find out a bit more of Michael’s activities in the period before he died. I thought I could take up some of those invitations I keep receiving, attend the court, ask a few pertinent questions, reconnoitre the lay of the land, so to speak. If I’m very, very lucky, I might even find someone who knows where the Orlova woman might be hiding.’
‘That’s an excellent idea.’
‘Yes, it’s brilliant,’ Aleksei agreed sardonically. ‘Endless meetings and dinners and parties fuelled by gossip and speculation. All my favourite activities.’
‘But well worth it if it flushes out a new suspect, or more importantly, helps you to flush out our prime suspect.’
‘Indeed. I will be paying a call on my cousin, our only available suspect too. So I should warn you that I will require to be away from the palace a good deal in the next week or so.’ He took her hand again, saluting over it and pressing the lightest of kisses to her fingertips. ‘I hope it will not be too long before Aleksei and Allison can meet in more congenial circumstances.’
* * *
Watching him walk purposefully away, and hoping that the congenial circumstances were not too many days away, Allison reminded herself that Miss Galbraith had a fee to earn.
She began to wander through the fernery, enjoying the rich, loamy aroma of the compost, the slightly bitter scent of the larger ferns, testing herself to see if she could name them all. A fish pond lay at the centre of the succession house, stocked with colourful carp. A little woodland grove planted along one wall caught her attention. Here was yellow-leaved meadowsweet, which was good for the digestion. A late-flowering knotweed. Blowsy chrysanthemum in autumn gold and copper. The dried crimson spikes on this one suggested it was the lily known as red-hot pokers. This one, with its plumes of tall white flowers, she didn’t recognise, but beside it was a clump of delphiniums, one of the flowers Lady Hunter favoured for her vases. Allison had fond memories of trailing through the garden in her ladyship’s wake, carrying the trug.
Suddenly, she recalled the salutary lesson Grandmother had taught her when she had brought back a bunch of the blowsy blooms to the cottage as a surprise.
‘By all that is sacred!’ Allison exclaimed.
The drawing in the book which Seanmhair had shown her had looked, to Allison’s uninitiated eyes, exactly like the flowers Lady Hunter had given her to take home. It had the same shape and stature. But the stem and the leaves depicted in the drawing were a much darker green and, her grandmother told her, rough to the touch. Where the delphinium had bell-shaped flowers, the other plant had sinister, cowl-like hoods, a vivid blue in colour, the stamen almost black, glinting with moisture and, to Allison’s childish eye, malignant.
‘Wolf’s Bane. Monkshood. Devil’s Helmet. Aconite.’ She remembered pronouncing the strange words carefully. There were many names for this darkly beautiful and deadly plant, for every single component, from petal, to seed, to root, was poisonous. The roots and seeds were especially dangerous if ingested, but equally lethal if the skin was pierced by an arrow or a dart or a knife.
Allison stared at the delphiniums mesmerised, trying to recall everything she knew about its lethal lookalike. Death could be speedy. A racing heart, a squeezing of the chest or gripe of the stomach, then it was over. But sometimes it took longer. There could be violent sickness. Some victims complained of numbness spreading across their body, some claimed that their bellies were on fire, or that they felt as if ants were crawling under their skin. Some sweated, some shivered, became delirious. Ultimately, breathing became more and more laboured, and always death, when it came, left the victim struggling frantically for air as if they were drowning, or being smothered. Or having an apoplexy.
Could Wolf’s Bane have killed Michael? Without question. But it was the next question Allison asked herself which made her stop in her tracks. She needed to consult her Culpeper’s Herbal Guide. She needed to inform Aleksei...
No! For what she was contemplating was so radical, she had to be certain of her facts. She would bide her time, do some further research. And in the meantime, she thought, hearing the distant clang of the midday bell, dispense her lotions and potions to the waiting sick.