by Anne Gracie
The crowd pressed closer, the people in front whispering to those behind, reporting what the grand duchess said. Clearly English was not a language she used easily.
Then Nash drew Maddy forward. “May I present my bride, Mrs. Madeleine Renfrew.”
Maddy sank into a slow, deep curtsy, suitable only for the highest rank of royalty. In the cottage in the woods, Grand-mère had made her practice it hundreds of times until she had it perfect, even though Maddy was certain she would never meet any kind of royalty.
Lady Gosforth gasped. Maddy froze for a second. Had she made a mistake? But Grand-mère’s training held firm. She rose smoothly from the curtsy, and for the first time, met the grand duchess’s gaze.
The old lady was smiling. “I didn’t think any young girls knew how to do that anymore,” she said to Nash in French. “So French, so graceful. It took me right back to my days in Versailles. Do you speak French, child? I find the English tongue barbarous.”
“Yes, Your Highness, I am half French,” Maddy responded in that language.
“Not just French, but the French of the Royal Court of Versailles,” the grand duchess declared delightedly. “I spent some years there when I, too, was a young bride. They were the happiest days of my life. Who was your mother, child? Perhaps I knew her.”
“My mother was Louise, the only daughter of Marianne de Rohan, Comtesse de Bellegarde.”
A ripple of whispers spread through the room.
The grand duchess’s brow furrowed. “De Rohan, de Rohan . . .” She shook her head. “There is something, but I cannot recall. She was at the court at Versailles, yes?”
“Yes, Your Highness, my grandmother was one of the queen’s ladies.”
“I knew all the queen’s ladies—poor Marie Antoinette, such a terrible fate. She was a sweet lady. Your grandmother, was she . . . ?” She faded off delicately.
“No, Your Highness, Grand-mère escaped the Terror, though she lost her husband and son and most of her relatives. Maman escaped by marrying an Englishman.”
The grand duchess tutted sympathetically. “Dreadful, the things people were driven to. It could never happen in Russia, thank God.” She crossed herself.
“Maddy’s grandmother survived by hiding among the beehives,” Nash told her.
“The beehives?” The grand duchess stared. “She was Marie Antoinette’s lady of the bees? But I remember her! She gave me honey. And it was delicious.” She tilted her head like a little bird, examining Maddy, then nodded. “You have, I think, the same hair, now I come to recall her.”
Maddy touched her hair wonderingly. “Do I, your Highness? Grand-mère’s hair was white, as long as I knew her.” It had turned white after her husband and son had been torn apart by the mob, she knew, but she’d never thought to wonder about the original color.
“That lovely dark auburn. I admired it greatly as a girl.” The grand duchess beamed at Maddy. “And so, Marianne de Rohan’s granddaughter has married my dear Mr. Renfrew. How delightful. You must visit me often in St. Petersburg. Give me your arm, child, and find me a chair. I would talk further with the granddaughter of my friend from Versailles.” And she led Maddy across the room, followed by a buzz of conversation.
“A triumph!” Aunt Maude said in Nash’s ear. “A complete triumph! I couldn’t have planned it better if I’d tried.”
Nash stared after his wife, dazed. “She’s . . . amazing.” He caught his breath. “I never knew. Why did she never tell me her grandmother was a countess?”
“Would it have made any difference?”
“No, of course not.”
Lady Gosforth smiled. “She told me something of the sort when I first met her, but I dismissed it as empty boasting. So many people claim noble French relatives, knowing they’re conveniently dead. ”
“And what an extraordinary coincidence, Maddy’s grandmother being an old friend of the grand duchess.”
Lady Gosforth gave a genteel snort. “I very much doubt she was.”
Nash gave her a sharp glance. “What do you mean? Why should the grand duchess make it up?”
“I don’t mean she’s lying. It’s my belief that your wife reminded an old lady of her girlhood, and she has seized on the memory. She wants to remember a friendship with Maddy’s grandmother and so she does. And why not? In a strange country, at the end of her life, when so many of her friends are dead . . .” She shrugged.
“Frankly, I don’t care one way or the other,” Nash said, gazing across the room to where his wife was getting the grand duchess settled. “That wonderful old lady has set my Maddy on the road to success.”
Lady Gosforth nodded and took a deep, satisfied breath. “You can thank me later.”
Nash gave her a stunned look. “Thank you? Even you could not have planned this amazing coup. For arranging the ball, yes, of course I thank—”
“No, foolish boy. You told me you wanted an excellent marriage, et voila!” Lady Gosforth gestured, suddenly Gallic. “You have one. And after tonight, the whole world will know it. That curtsy! I couldn’t have taught the dear child better myself! And she even has connections, even though they’re all dead. It doesn’t seem to matter. With your grand duchess eating out of her hand, my niece will become all the rage in the Russian court, just mark my words.”
“I didn’t marry her for her curtsy or her connections,” Nash said. “And you had nothing to do with it.”
“Of course not, dear boy. You fell off your horse—”
“I did not fall, the horse slipped.”
“—and gave that stubborn Renfrew head the crack it needed to let you tumble into love. A perfect outcome for all concerned. And a personal triumph for me!” His aunt patted him on the cheek and sailed off to circulate and gloat.
The orchestra struck up a waltz. Nash cleaved a determined path through the crowded ballroom where a crowd had gathered around the grand duchess and her new protégée.
Her Imperial Highness, Grand Duchess Anna Petrovna Romanova, could find someone else to talk to. Nash wanted to dance with his wife.
Epilogue
Two nights before they departed for St. Petersburg, Lady Gosforth held a farewell party for Nash and Maddy at her London house. “Just a small, intimate affair,” she’d told Maddy. “Quite paltry, really. A few friends, nothing more.”
When Maddy informed Nash of this, he snorted with laughter but wouldn’t explain why.
It was a wonderful night, a crowded, glittering reception, but for Maddy, the real farewell took place the next afternoon, when just the family and close friends gathered for tea.
It was an occasion of laughter and tears. Everyone brought presents.
Lady Gosforth gave gloves and warm fur-lined hats to the boys and white fur muffs and fur-lined bonnets for the girls. And for Maddy, a blue velvet cloak, fully lined with soft, luxurious fur, and a matching fur muff. “Gets cold in Russia, I’m told,” she said gruffly, twitching it into place as Maddy tried it on.
“I used to think you detested me,” Maddy admitted.
“No, my dear, I was simply testing you. And you passed with flying colors. The moment you told me to mind my own business, I knew you loved that boy of mine.”
“How could you know from that?”
“If you’d been any sort of a schemer you’d have assured me you loved him more than life itself.” Lady Gosforth smiled. “Instead you told me it was none of my business. And I knew then that it was love—new, tender, private, and precious. Too precious to be shared with a meddling, obnoxious old woman.” She blinked away a tear. “Dratted piece of dirt in my eye.”
Maddy, her own eyes misty with emotion, hugged her again. “I do love him, with all my heart. And I love you, too, Lady Gosforth. And you’re not meddling, obnoxious, or old.”
“Lady Gosforth? Lady Gosforth?” the old woman said crossly, scrubbing at her eyes with a wisp of lace. “Aunt Maude, if you please, young woman. You’re family now.”
Maddy smiled mistily. “I’ll take go
od care of him, I promise.”
“Pish, tush, foolish gel. It’s his job to take care of you.”
For the children, there were all sorts of things to help pass the time on the journey: knitting needles and wool, a chess set, a set of drafts, playing cards and books, none of which were of the improving sort, and blank journals, writing paper, and ink. “To write about your adventures in Russia,” Tibby told them and, glancing at Jane, added, “and any stories you might dream up, as well.”
Jane received a pair of red riding boots, John, a whip and a book about horses. Henry was delighted to receive a magnetic compass and a book of star constellations, and Susan was thrilled with a beautiful painting set and a pad of fine art paper.
“And this is for you,” Nell said to Lucy, who’d been hopping up and down in excitement, watching everyone else unwrap their presents.
Lucy unwrapped it and stared. “It’s a doll,” she said. “And she’s got red hair.” She frowned. “And she’s wearing my old blue dress.” She gave Nell an odd look, clearly not as impressed with her present as she’d hoped.
Nell smiled. “Turn her upside down.”
Bemused, Lucy turned the doll upside down and gasped as the old blue skirts fell down to reveal a head. “It’s another doll,” she exclaimed, and then, “She looks like a princess.” The doll was dressed in a sparkly white dress with blue satin bows, and she wore a glittery tiara in her elegant, red wool hair.
Suddenly Lucy’s eyes opened wide. “It’s Cinderella!” she almost shouted. “Look, here she’s Cinders, and here”—she turned the doll upside down—“she’s the princess, going to the ball!”
“Yes, but she’s not Cinderella,” Nell corrected her.
Lucy turned, quite prepared to argue her case.
“She’s Luciella,” Nell said with a smile.
“Luciella?” Lucy whispered. She turned the doll back and forward, marveling over the transformation. Then she clasped the doll tightly to her chest and turned to Nell. “Is there a prince?”
Everyone laughed.
“Not yet, darling,” Maddy told her. “You’ll have to wait a while yet for your prince.” She leaned contentedly back against hers.
Lucy nodded, content, and turned her gaze to Nash. “Isn’t there a present for Mr. Rider?”
He laughed and slipped his arm around Maddy. “I have the best present of all, Lucy—a new family.”
“And we’ve got a new family, too,” Jane said with quiet satisfaction.
Now, in the cold gray light of dawn, they stood on the deck of the ship, about to sail with the morning tide.
On the docks below, Harry and Nell waved, Torie sitting on Harry’s shoulders, one fist knotted in his hair, the other hand waving vaguely. Marcus stood aloof and grave beside Lady Gosforth, who was swathed in furs and dabbing a lace handkerchief to her eyes. Rafe, Ayisha, and Luke had come to wave them off, too, Ayisha with her little spotted cat on a leash, like a dog. Only Lizzie was absent. Maddy had said good-bye to her at Whitethorn. Nash had given Reuben the position of estate manager, and Lizzie was as proud as punch. She’d wept, though, promising to write.
Maddy stood with Nash and the children at the rail, waving, smiling, and teary-eyed. Nash slipped his arms around her. “You’re not sorry to be leaving England?”
She shook her head. “Not as long as I have you. I’ll miss everyone, of course, but we can write, and we’ll be back from time to time, won’t we? So go ahead, Nash Renfrew; waltz me away. Wherever you lead, I’ll follow.”
“To the world and beyond,” Nash told her. “A team.”
Historical Note
The Grand Duchess Anna Petrovna Romanova in fact died as a baby. In this story she didn’t die, but had a long and happy life.
Marie Antoinette really did have a farm at le Hameau de la Reine, near Versailles, where the queen and her ladies liked to play at milkmaids. There was not, as far as I know, a beekeeper among them.