of the heat, but not in a mass grave. After a day of doing nothing, Emperor Nicky finally announced that he would pay for coffins, and give a pension to any child who’d been orphaned. Then we went to the French ball.
It was a grim evening. Dowager Empress Aunt Minnie made clear her disapproval and stayed away. So did Uncle Vladimir and Aunt Miechen and, because they didn’t come, neither did any of their family or friends.
Missy was very put out. A ball without the Vladimirovichi was like soup without salt. She also had Cyril’s brother Boris in her sights, for a little Coronation Week flirtation. His absence meant a wasted evening. I was relieved though. At least I didn’t have to face Cyril.
Missy said, ‘You are an oddity. Just when you might have had the opportunity to dance with him. Well, Aunt Miechen won’t miss every event. They’ll certainly be on parade later in the week so I hope you’re not going to be stand-offish with Cyril and make me look like a perfect fool.’
7
We were at the Yusupovs’ ball. It was unthinkable to miss it. Zinaida Yusupov’s family own half of Russia. Perhaps I should now say
owned
. And unlike many wealthy people, the Yusupovs were never slow to spend their money. Their ball was bound to be splendid. It was four days after the Coronation, three days after the Khodynka tragedy. By eleven o’clock the only dance I’d had was the opening polonaise, and Ernie had disappeared to the card tables. People were going in to supper. My brother, Affie, offered me his arm. We turned into the corridor where the second buffet was set out and suddenly there was Cyril.
‘Ducky! Affie!’ he called. ‘I just got here. Big brouhaha at home. Father thinks there should be no dancing at a time of national mourning. Mother thinks life must go on. Mother won. Have you two eaten?’
I’d been hungry but suddenly I wasn’t.
Cyril said, ‘A lemonade, then?’
Affie muttered, ‘Something stronger,’ loosed my arm and was gone. My brother was always looking for escape routes.
Cyril said, ‘I see a pair of seats. Shall we grab them?’
Once I’d forced myself to look at him I found my nervousness disappeared. Cyril made it easy. He did all the talking, until I found my tongue. He’d just passed his Navy examinations and was offto the Baltic for the summer, on training exercises. Petty Officer Romanov. He wasn’t the handsomest of my cousins. His brother Boris was certainly better-favoured. But I loved his face. I could have studied it for ever. He asked if my baby was thriving. He asked about my horses. And when he’d skirted around all permissible topics we sat in silence for a while. It became unbearable. I was cursing Missy’s indiscretion. And then I thought it would be better just to have it out, to say it and be done, like poor Tatiana with Onegin. I’d look foolish for five minutes, Cyril would go off to his ship and I’d go back to Darmstadt and that would be that.
I said, ‘I know Missy has been making mischief.’
He cut me off.
He said, ‘I hardly know your husband. Ernie doesn’t seem the vicious type.’
I agreed.
He said, ‘Perhaps just not suited to marriage?’
I did pretty well. I kept my composure, until he asked me if I was dreadfully unhappy, and then I couldn’t stop the tears. He gave me his handkerchief. People were looking. Not many, but it only required a few. Gossip works on the principle of compound interest.
I said, ‘Now I’ve embarrassed you.’
‘Hardly,’ he said. ‘Anyone asks, I’ll say you twisted your ankle.’
He took my hand. We were in shadow.
He said, ‘The thing is, Ducky, there’s really nothing I can do. You have to go home to Darmstadt and I have to report for duty, and who can say when we shall ever see each other again? But I want you to know that I wish things might have worked out differently. Do you understand?’
How a mood can change in a few seconds. I remember thinking that if Cyril cared for me, even a