The Lost Season of Love and Snow by Jennifer Laam

Author:Jennifer Laam
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Press

Twelve

ST. PETERSBURG

NOVEMBER 1833–FEBRUARY 1834

My lady’s maid, Liza, put her hands over her mouth to stifle a smile. She was the same pink-cheeked girl who had been the first to address me as Madame Pushkina.

“What is it?” I said, making a turn before the full-length looking glass. “Don’t you like it? I’ve spent hours … you’ve spent hours. I thought we agreed.”

“It’s beautiful! Only…” She lowered her hands and made a quick motion in the direction of my décolletage.

I looked down. “It is low cut.”

Liza’s giggle sputtered through her fingers.

“The actual women of the Minoan culture bared their breasts completely.” I toyed with a bracelet, a gold bangle in the form of a snake that was meant to rest on my upper arm. “Do you think I should consider that instead?”

She gasped and then it was my turn to laugh until at last we collapsed into a heap together on the divan, fanning our faces and staring at the remnants of the afternoon’s creativity scattered about the room I had designated for sewing: scraps of fabric, discarded paper patterns, gold braiding, and loose laurel leaves. I planned to debut this costume at the Anichkov Palace the last Sunday before Lent, the final and grandest costume ball of the season.

“The priestesses were certainly daring with their garb.” Liza dabbed her damp eyes with a handkerchief she’d kept tucked in her apron pocket.

“They were powerful women. I intend to honor them as such.”

“I’ve heard the tsar is an admirer of women, powerful and otherwise, but I don’t know that he will let you go so far as to display your bosom.”

“I suppose I could give him a lecture on historical accuracy.” On Alexander’s shelves, I had found a volume on the ancient civilization on the island of Crete and devised the gown based on illustrations of the matriarchal cults of the Minoan culture, particularly the high priestess in the Temple of the Bull. “Besides, I am an old married lady now, a matron with two children. Tsar Nicholas will hardly give me a second glance.”

“He won’t be able to concentrate, nor look you in the eye.”

Though my shoulders tensed, we laughed a little more. Alexander had been gone for two months now, but the initial pain of missing him had dulled to a low ache. Fortunately, I found plenty to keep my mind occupied while he was away. I had set up a play school in the nursery where Masha could pretend to be governess every morning and lord over a small army of French dolls Alexander had bought for her. As Masha pretended expertise on mathematics, strutting about with my oval-shaped spectacles perched on her head, Sasha sat in my lap, wriggling his fingers in his mouth. Meanwhile I balanced a slate in one hand and did my best to keep pace with the mock lessons. In the afternoons, while the children napped, I conducted a perfunctory review of the household finances and then dismissed the steward, sure Alexander’s new verse about the horseman would add a fresh infusion of income to our household.

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