Chapter Five
Aleksei had been gone almost three weeks, during which time Allison had made limited progress with her investigations and even less with the children. Which hurt. She knew she was being foolish, she had known they would view her as an interloper and what’s more Aleksei had made it clear that he did not expect her to launch any sort of charm offensive, yet she opened the schoolroom door each morning with a sinking heart.
Nikki stood to attention at his desk, looking as if he was about to salute her. Catiche and Elena rose reluctantly, dropping the most grudging of curtsies and sank back on to their chairs before Allison had even reached hers. Nikki’s nascent smile faded as Elena yanked him unceremoniously back into his seat, hissing something at him in Russian.
‘Good morning.’ Allison’s smile was fixed. She knew it was too wide and too rigid. She also knew it would not be returned.
‘Good morning, Miss Galbraith,’ the three children chorused in perfect and perfectly expressionless English.
Allison made a show of shuffling the papers and books stacked on her desk, studying her charges from beneath her lashes. She had been prepared for reserve, expected tantrums, these were troubled orphans after all, but this sullen display of outward compliance, she was finding very difficult to penetrate.
Catiche, at thirteen, was coltish, at that awkward stage between girl and young woman. She seemed to be tangled in legs grown too long, both embarrassed and proud of her burgeoning curves. Her features were maturing from childhood cuteness, too raw to be beautiful as yet, though with all the signs of beauty to come. As the eldest, it was to be expected that she would be most affected by the loss of her parents and governess, but Catiche hid it inordinately well, doing her crying in private, and refusing point blank to acknowledge any redness in her eyes when Allison had gently raised the subject. For the most part her expression was taciturn. Her eyes were disconcertingly Baltic blue, exactly like Aleksei’s and every bit as icy. The only emotion she made no attempt to disguise was a contempt for the English intruder.
Elena, on the other hand, was less troubled but more troublesome. The middle child, angelically fair and very much aware of her charm, it was she who pulled her siblings’ strings. If Allison wasn’t so set upon being charitable, she’d have labelled Elena a precocious brat in need of a good setting down. A true child of St Petersburg was Elena, a consummate machinator who would baulk at nothing to achieve her objectives. And her objective was clearly to have their new governess dispatched back to England, the sooner the better.
Allison was no teacher, but she had dedicated her life to caring, and had always considered herself empathetic, yet she had signally failed to engage with her charges. She was most horribly aware that her overtures were becoming increasingly desperate and therefore increasingly transparent. The harder she tried, the more the children responded with what seemed to be contempt. Only Nikki seemed inclined to succumb to her attempts at friendly engagement, but Elena always made sure this weakness in her brother was short-lived, her sotto voce threats in Russian clearly intended to remind him of where his loyalties lay.
And then there was the dog. Allison shuddered with distaste. As if on cue, a noxious smell which was becoming revoltingly familiar wafted across the schoolroom, and Ortipo the bulldog gave a self-congratulatory bark. She knew it was ridiculous to think that an animal could be in cahoots with three children, but she was nevertheless sure that this was, somehow, the case. She didn’t like dogs, though she had learnt to keep her feelings on the subject to herself, for the English, she had discovered, were inordinately fond of the creatures. Wives neglected by their husbands, and children neglected by their parents found, in the family lapdog, a comfort and companionship that Allison found odd but comprehensible.
Ortipo, however, was by no stretch of the imagination a tame lapdog. He didn’t like to be petted, and took to growling menacingly at the least provocation. With the face of a failed pugilist, the breath of a dedicated drunkard, and a digestive system which would put an incontinent sow to shame, as far as Allison was concerned, Ortipo was as endearing as a decaying rat. Needless to say, the Derevenko children were besotted with him.
Ortipo, his expression impassive, extruded another noxious emission. Nikki giggled, holding his nose, and Allison only just managed to suppress a retch. ‘Do you not think,’ she said, trying not to breathe through her nose, ‘the animal would be happier in the fresh air, rather than cooped up in the schoolroom?’
Catiche responded with a haughty look. ‘Ortipo is not an animal, he is a bulldog with a very impressive pedigree. What is more, Ortipo is a Derevenko, and therefore does no one’s bidding. Especially not an Englishwoman’s.’
‘Miss Galbraith is not English, she is from Scotland.’
Allison whirled around. Aleksei stood in the doorway, clad in riding clothes. His boots were dusty, he had obviously just arrived back for he was still carrying his gloves and whip, and judging from his expression, his search had been fruitless. ‘Children, bid your uncle good morning.’
The request was unnecessary. All three were already on their feet, the girls dropping into careful curtsies, Nikki making a stumbling bow. Even Ortipo rolled upright from his bed with a welcoming yap to sit alert at Aleksei’s feet, his stumpy tail thumping on the floor.
‘What,’ Aleksei said, wrinkling his nose, ‘is that disgusting smell.’
‘It is Ortipo,’ Nikki said shyly, gazing up at his uncle with reverence.
Aleksei ignored the child, turning to Catiche. ‘Get him out of here.’
‘No!’
Aleksei turned his attention to Elena. ‘I beg your pardon?’
The child, ignoring her big sister’s warning look, held her ground under his steely gaze, much to Allison’s admiration. ‘Uncle Aleksei,’ she said, ‘Ortipo is our friend. He will be sad if he can’t be with us.’
‘Dogs cannot be sad,’ Aleksei said, frowning down at his niece. ‘And dogs as noxious as this have no place in the schoolroom.’
‘But...’
‘That is quite enough, Elena,’ Allison said crisply, seeing that the girl was going to remonstrate further. ‘It is inexplicable to me,’ she whispered, drawing Aleksei to one side, ‘but the children are extremely attached to the creature.’
‘It is clear that you are not. Why subject yourself...?’
‘Because the children love him, Aleksei. Because Ortipo is all they have left. When Elena said Ortipo will be sad, she meant that she will be sad.’
‘Fine! On your head be it—or should that be your nose?’ Aleksei said shortly. ‘I have more important things to discuss with you than a dog. Call the nanny, I am anxious to hear how you have been progressing. Better than I, I hope.’
Allison’s heart sank at the thought of explaining how her time had been spent in his absence while he was in such a foul mood. ‘No need to call Nyanya just yet,’ she said brightly. ‘It is a lovely day. Children,’ she said, turning to her charges before he could question her, ‘we will take Ortipo for a walk in the gardens.’
* * *
The children, relieved to be released from another English lesson they didn’t require, needed no encouragement, and ran ahead of them along the paths. ‘I take it you found no trace of Madame Orlova?’ Allison asked, eyeing Aleksei warily.
‘As goose chases go it was a particularly wild one.’
He had discarded his hat and gloves and his greatcoat. In the bright sunlight, she could see the dark shadows under his eyes, his sculpted mouth drawn into a firm line, a frown knitting his brows together as he stared into the distance at the retreating backs of his wards. She wanted to touch him, simply to reassure him, but like the children, she was intimidated. He was not precisely a stranger, but at this moment he felt like one—remote, self-contained and very much the soldier. ‘Her family could shed no light on her whereabouts?’
‘None. They deny all knowledge of her, and seem genuinely concerned for her well-being. I believe them too,’ Aleksei said, knuckling his eyes, ‘for they were happy to provide me with a list of her friends, previous employers. Every one of them led to a dead end. The trail is cold.’
‘Aleksei, has it occurred to you that she might be...?’
‘Dead? Of course I’ve considered it, but if she is, then where is her body? She can’t have buried herself. Though perhaps that is exactly what she has done in order to escape justice,’ he said, grimacing. ‘Or perhaps she is perfectly innocent and simply doesn’t want to be found. I don’t know. I need a hot bath and a sleep.’ He sighed heavily, rolling his shoulders. ‘But first, I’d very much like to hear how your investigations have been progressing. Assuming you have made progress?’
Allison steered him towards a bench set under a trellis on which the last of the summer’s roses bloomed. Aleksei sank down without complaint, stretching his long legs out in front of him.
‘If we assume that a natural poison was used,’ she began, ‘then we can eliminate a great many of the commonly available herbs which grow in this climate. Once matched with Michael’s symptoms, the list of candidates is smaller still. While I could concoct any number of poisons from the contents of this garden and the succession houses, all require considerable expertise. But I did not confine myself to this garden.’
‘Please tell me you haven’t been prowling around the gardens of my neighbours.’
She laughed. ‘Yes, that is exactly what I would have done if I’d wanted to arouse suspicion, but fortunately I had no need. There is a very famous Apothecary’s Garden in St Petersburg,’ Allison said. ‘It was founded by Peter the Great, and from what I could gather when I visited last week, it seems to contain every medicinal species known to man—and a great many utterly unknown to this woman!’ She clasped her hands together, momentarily distracted. ‘You are so fortunate to have such a place right here on your doorstep. What I would give to be able to work there.’ Her face fell. ‘Though here, as in England, my sex prevents me. I was, however, able to speak to one of the apothecary gardeners, a relative of your own head gardener. Sergei, you know?’
‘No. I did not.’
‘No. Well, of course not.’ Flustered, Allison shied away from explaining why Sergei owed her a favour, and returned to the salient point. ‘In a nutshell,’ she said, ‘there is a plethora of poisonous plants available from the Apothecary’s Garden which anyone could access, if they knew what they were looking for. Obviously, apothecaries sell ready-made potions, but a prospective murder is unlikely to risk discovery by wandering into an apothecary’s shop and asking for a jar of deadly poison!’
‘So the poison could have been stolen from the Apothecary’s Garden but is unlikely to have been purchased from an apothecary, is that what you are saying.’
‘Yes.’ Allison frowned. ‘One thing I have not resolved is the gap between your two prime suspects’ last-known presence here, and Michael’s death. There are some poisons which have a delayed effect, but slow-acting poisons tend to produce slow-acting symptoms.’
‘Then our prime suspects are not our prime suspects because they were not here on the morning Michael died?’
‘The poison could have been in—say, a wine decanter, or a piece of fruit, or even in a cologne or some lotion, but if that is so, the perpetrator would have to be confident that he wouldn’t poison someone else by mistake.’
‘So it’s more likely that it was administered directly?’
‘I’m sorry, I know it’s not what you want to hear, but...’ Allison sighed. ‘If I wanted to commit the perfect crime, I would not leave anything to chance. We know from the visitors’ book that Michael had no callers that morning, but Derevenko Palace is so large, Aleksei, don’t you think that someone could have got in without the servants knowing?’
‘Someone he knew and trusted? Yes, it’s possible, of course it is.’ He thumped his leg with his fist. ‘Any sane person would give up. I wish to the devil that I could give up, but I can’t. I know that there is something which doesn’t add up to all this, I know it. If we could even prove that it was not murder,’ he exclaimed. ‘I would much rather prove that it was not murder, that there was some perfectly rational explanation for Michael’s change of will, and for the Orlova woman’s disappearance. But so far we have more questions than answers.’
She caught his hand as he made to strike himself again. ‘I’m so sorry I cannot be more definitive.’
‘No.’ He unfurled his fist to clasp her fingers. ‘Don’t apologise. You have made more progress than I have.’
‘For what it is worth, I do think you are right. There is something that does not add up.’
His expression softened. ‘That is good to hear. Don’t worry, I’ve no intentions of giving up just yet. I have come too far to do that.’
‘As indeed have I!’ She had given up once. She had stopped believing in herself once. Never again. ‘I have come all the way from England, and I’ve no intention of going back there until I have completed the task you brought me here to do.’
‘I believe I’ve told you before, but it bears repeating. I am very glad that you are here.’ Aleksei’s smile was warm. He kissed her fingertips. ‘We will regroup and talk later, when I am clean and rested. How have you been coping with the children? I presume they are behaving themselves?’
It was a perfunctory question. She could answer in kind, but what would satisfy Aleksei’s conscience would not appease her own. ‘I am finding them difficult,’ Allison said, choosing her words with care. ‘They are very reserved, extremely reluctant to warm to me.’
‘What does it matter whether they like you or not? It’s not as if you are to be any sort of permanent fixture in their lives.’
Which was perfectly true, but his coolness irked her. ‘The tragedy is that the only permanent fixture in their life at present is that blasted dog,’ Allison retorted. ‘They need something—someone—to replace their parents.’
‘Their blasted governess, you mean.’
‘No, I don’t! I mean their mother and father, Aleksei, both of whom, from what the servants have told me, were loving and attentive parents, and whose presence in those children’s lives must be very much missed.’
‘You seem to have been gathering a great deal of information from the servants.’
The second time this morning she’d had the opportunity to confess, but she did not want to divert the conversation from her charges. ‘And from the children too,’ Allison said, neatly avoiding the issue. ‘Elizaveta and Michael were not the kind of parents who saw their children once a day in the drawing room after dinner. They read stories to them, sat through some of their lessons, played games with them.’
‘Really?’ Aleksei looked sceptical. ‘If that is the case, Michael took a very different approach to rearing his offspring from our parents.’ He shaded his eyes with his hand to block the dazzle of late sunshine, and watched the three children playing a game of fetch which involved both Ortipo and Nikki chasing a large stick. ‘They don’t seem noticeably unhappy.’
‘Children are very resilient creatures, but I know that deep down they are grieving. Perhaps it’s for the best, after all, that they continue to resent me.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Because then they won’t mind when I leave. They have already lost the three people they care most about, so it is better that they don’t come to care for me.’ Or you, for that matter, Allison thought sadly, but did not say.
Aleksei frowned over at his wards, now gathered around the edge of a large fountain, attempting to cast pebbles into the open mouth of a large stone fish from which water spouted. ‘Michael and I used to play that game. I always won, much to his chagrin.’
‘At least those three have each other.’
‘You think I don’t care for them, but you’re wrong. I care enough to know that I’d be a terrible guardian. Even if I wanted to weigh myself down with the burden of those three, it would be wrong of me. As you quite rightly implied, what they need is stability, a mother to rear them and a father to look after their interests.’
‘Is your cousin Felix married, then?’
‘No. I’ve never thought about it before, I wonder—but it doesn’t matter. I’m sure, when—if—I clear his name and hand him custody of Michael’s children, he’ll find a suitable wife.’
‘You could do that.’
‘Take a wife, simply in order to provide Michael’s children with a mother?’ he exclaimed, looking appalled. ‘Even if I could persuade any female to wed me on such terms...’
‘Don’t be so modest, Aleksei, there would be a queue from here to Moscow willing to take you under any terms, as Nikki’s guardian.’
‘You are mocking me.’
‘Only a little. Are you really so set against marriage?’
‘I am married to the army, and even if I was not—I have no intentions of remaining in St Petersburg.’
‘Must the children remain here?’
He shrugged irritably. ‘Michael would not contemplate them being raised anywhere else.’ In the distance, a bell rang and the children and dog began to stampede towards the house in eager search of their lunch.
Which meant that Allison had an appointment elsewhere too. ‘I should go and...’
‘I’ll come with you. We’ll go through the garden-room door, it’s quicker.’ He checked the path to ensure that the children were out of sight, before sliding his arms around her waist. ‘My thoughts have not been wholly consumed by my search for the Orlova woman. Thinking about you has been a very pleasant distraction.’
Her heart began to thump in her ribcage. How could she have found him intimidating? The way he looked at her now, it made her blood fizz with anticipation. She couldn’t doubt that he found her attractive. It was a heady feeling. ‘Really?’ Allison said, smiling teasingly, ‘I on the other hand have been far too busy to spend much time thinking about you.’
He laughed. ‘So you admit to thinking about me some of the time?’ His hand slid up her arm, coming to rest on her shoulder. His thumb began to stroke circles on the sensitive skin at the back of her neck, under her hair. She shivered. She reached up to trace the white line of the scar on his brow, relishing the way he responded to her touch.
‘Allison.’ He spoke her name as a caress. ‘I do believe we have unfinished business.’
‘Aleksei, I do believe you are right.’
He did not have to urge her to close the miniscule gap between them, she did that of her own accord. Their lips met, a tentative touch at first, as if they were worried that the three weeks would have dulled the attraction between them, but they need not have. Soft lips, rough stubble, and the tantalising touch of his tongue, and she melted swiftly into the heat of him. It was over too quickly. It left them both staring, breathing heavily.
‘Tonight, do you think?’ he asked.
‘Tonight,’ she agreed, without a second thought, allowing him to lead her towards the door of the garden room, momentarily forgetting what he was likely to find there.
* * *
A few moments later, Aleksei stopped short in front of the snaking line of servants queuing in the corridor outside the garden room. There seemed to be a full wardrobe of Derevenko livery represented, including an underfootman, a gardener, a scullery maid, two chambermaids and a stable hand, along with two individuals whose colours he did not recognise and a small, ragged urchin. All of them, including the strangers, flapped into a fluster of bows and curtsies, while the urchin simply gazed at him with wide-eyed wonder that made Aleksei want to laugh. ‘What the devil is going on here?’
With one accord, every face turned to Allison. Whose face had turned a bright, mortified red. ‘It is my fault.’
An inkling of understanding made him survey the gathering anew. Two bandages. One sling. Whatever was wrong with the others remained, probably most thankfully, obscured from view.
‘I can explain.’
‘I look forward to being enlightened.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Allison said, turning to her expectant patients, ‘but I am afraid I won’t be able to...’
‘No, wait here. Miss Galbraith will be with you shortly.’ Aleksei ushered her back into the garden room, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the door. ‘I’m waiting.’
‘Aleksei, I want to assure you that I would never...’
‘Put anything before your obligations to me? I know that.’
‘I did not intend to keep my little dispensary from you. I would have told you later, if you had not insisted upon escorting me here—’ She broke off, grimacing. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘There truly is no need. I told you before I left that I trusted you, and I meant it. If you wish to utilise your skills for the benefit of Nikki’s servants—though I confess, there were some in the crowd who did not look as if they belonged to the palace?’
‘No.’ She looked ridiculously guilty. ‘They have no one else to turn to and if I did not treat them, they would simply go untreated. These people cannot afford to visit an apothecary, never mind consult a doctor, and in some cases they have been living with their ailments for so long, they have quite forgotten what it is like to be without pain. But I should have consulted you, at the very least.’
‘I wasn’t here to consult.’
‘No, but...’
‘Allison, I understand.’
‘You do?’
‘I suspect you can’t help yourself.’
‘You’re right,’ she said, eyeing him with surprise. ‘I had forgotten how much I enjoy treating patients.’
Which implied that she no longer did. When she was embarrassed, her cheeks flushed. When she was hiding something, colour stole up her throat, as it did now. He waited, giving her time to explain, but she so clearly didn’t want to. ‘Well then,’ Aleksei said, ‘tell me how this free service came about.’
‘It started with Natalya, Elizaveta’s maid,’ Allison said, looking relieved. ‘I thought she had been crying, her nose and eyes were so swollen, but it turns out she suffers dreadfully from hay fever, which is very easily treated with elderflower and marigold.’
‘I presume that Natalya sang your praises to the other servants?’
‘Only to your valet, who suffers from swelling of the joints in the fingers and toes. He recommended me to the housekeeper who is perpetually bilious. Then the chef came to me when he developed lockjaw from a cut from a meat knife—fortunately, you have wild garlic in the garden, since I have none in my herbal chest, and the chef himself procured the necessary mustard oil. Then, let me see, yes, Sergei...’
‘The head gardener who, I presume owed you a favour, hence your introduction to the Apothecary’s Garden?’
‘Yes,’ Allison admitted, with a sheepish smile. ‘He had fallen into a patch of stinging nettles, and his wife’s niece who works in the kitchen of the Vasiliev Palace came to me with a stomach complaint, and—well, it just snowballed from there. I come here at lunchtime when the children are with their nanny. There are not usually so many waiting, though some—the groom you saw—come every day for treatment. He suffers from stones, poor man, and my cure is likely to cause him some considerable pain when they pass. But you are not interested in—Aleksei, you truly are not angry?’
‘How could I possibly be? Aside from the good you are doing, the suffering you are alleviating, and the gap which I was not even aware needed filling, you obviously—simply listening to you talk, it’s very clear to me that you relish what you are doing.’
Her eyes lit up. ‘I love it.’
‘I can see that you do.’ He could not resist kissing her, but forced himself to do so swiftly. ‘I will not keep you, you must be anxious to attend to them. I will see you later.’ Recalling the stack of post which had accumulated in his absence, and the latest list of questions from the over-zealous man of business, Aleksei rolled his eyes. ‘Much later. Meet me here, after dinner.’
Another kiss would be a temptation too far. He opened the door, startling the waiting patients. ‘Now, who is first in line?’