The Diamond Horse. Stacy Gregg

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СКАЧАТЬ frowned. “Why don’t we speak our own language?”

      “Only serfs speak Russian,” the Countess said. “This is why you must pay attention to your studies with Clarise.”

      Anna rolled her eyes at the mention of her tutor and the Countess cast her a stern look. “One day you will be old enough to join us for a dinner party like the one we are having tonight and then you will need your very best French, oui?”

      “Oui!” Anna giggled. It was so nice to see her mother like this, dressed up so beautifully, her eyes shining at the prospect of glamorous company. Often at the Khrenovsky estate it felt as if they were in total isolation, so far away from the bustle of the city of Moscow and even further still from St Petersburg, where her father devoted himself to life at court in the service of the Empress.

      Tonight’s dinner was a farewell to her father who was about to depart once more for St Petersburg. The meal would be served in the grand dining room and all the nobles from the neighbouring estates had been invited. Anna had watched with fascination as endless bouquets of lily of the valley and white tulips were carried upstairs by the housemaids. Their sweet and sickly aroma now filled the bedchambers of the palace while downstairs tea roses in delicate shades of peach and cream tumbled out of ivy-clad urns.

      In the grand marble hallways, young serving boys with rags tied to the soles of their feet swept through the halls as if they were ice-skating, using their gliding movements to buff the floors until they gleamed.

      A hunting party had been sent out the day before and had returned with wild boar and deer. In the kitchens the cooks set about preparing the meat, pots and pans banging and fires roaring as they busily chopped beetroots and scoured potatoes for the banquet.

      The peacocks, who often roamed the corridors, had been banished outdoors by Katia, the head maid, because they made too much mess. But the Amur leopards still had the run of the place and presently they were lounging on the Countess’s bed as Anna stroked their velvety fur.

      The Countess lifted up a silver powdered wig and swept back her luxurious blonde hair under the elaborately stacked hairpiece.

      “What do you think, milochka?” She poked at the wig, repositioning it on top of her beautiful blonde tresses. “Do I look pretty?”

      “It’s grey, Mama,” Anna replied. “It makes you look old.”

      The Countess’s smile disappeared for a moment but then she regained her composure. “Powdered wigs are very Parisian. You do not understand fashion yet, my little one,” she said sweetly.

      From a dark blue box on the dressing table the Countess picked out a pair of black diamond earrings, their tiered crystals glistening like miniature chandeliers. She put aside the earrings and then picked up the box that had been stacked beneath.

      Anna’s heart leapt. She rose from her velvet cushion and came over to stand at her mother’s shoulder.

      “Can I open it for you?”

      The Countess smiled. “Of course.”

      Inside, nestled against silver silk, was a priceless necklace. The black diamond, attached to a silver filigree chain, draped across the cloth like a glittering teardrop, the size of a walnut. Round the brilliant-cut gemstone a setting of smaller, white diamonds created a halo that contrasted its rare dark beauty.

      “It is so beautiful,” Anna breathed. “Where did it come from?”

      She had heard this story a million times, but she still wanted to hear it once more.

      “It was given to me by my mother,” the Countess said. “And to her by my grandmother. It is a family heirloom, passed down from generation to generation. One day, milochka, I will give it to you.”

      The Countess fixed the clasp on her earrings and looked at herself admiringly in the mirror. Then she reached out her milk-white fingers to grasp the silver chain and lift the necklace from its case. She was about to lift it up when there was a knock at the door.

      “Come in,” called Anna’s mother.

      “Excuse me, Countess?” Katia, the head maid, quietly entered the bedchamber.

      “Yes, Katia? What is it?”

      “There is a problem in the dining room. We have Count Tolstoy seated next to Count Bobrinsky …”

      The Countess stood up. “That will not do at all! They cannot stand each other!” She made her way briskly to the door. “You had better show me what can be done. Quickly now, Katia!”

      And with that, the two women left the room.

      Anna waited until their footsteps had receded down the corridor and then she sat herself down at the Countess’s dressing table.

      She twisted up her dark blonde hair and secured it in a loose bun on top of her head, revealing the pale ivory skin beneath, just like her mother’s.

      As the diamond teardrop fell against her breastbone, Anna admired its darkness. It contrasted against the whiteness of her skin, the light glowing from inside the stone as if it were on fire. For a moment she was lost in its beauty, and then she raised her eyes to see her reflection. But the eyes that returned Anna’s gaze were not her own. There was a girl looking back at her from the mirror who Anna had never seen before.

      The girl in the mirror was blonde too, her ice-white hair twisted in a braid on top of her head, her alabaster skin glimmering as if it had been dusted with stars. She wore a glittering costume that shone like a star, covered with silver spangles. She was leaning into the mirror and painting on make-up, lining her lips with a brilliant scarlet.

      Anna stared at the girl. And, holding Anna’s gaze, the girl in the mirror smiled right back at her! Then she smacked her red lips together and adjusted her glittering costume, wriggling the straps so that her silver spangles shimmied. Then the ice-white blonde reached out to the dresser in front of her and lifted a black diamond necklace to her throat. It was identical to Anna’s. They were both wearing the same necklace!

      Anna reached out her hand to the mirror glass. The girl smiled again and then she stood up. There were voices in the distance calling out her name:

       Valentina, Valentina, it is time …

       CHAPTER 2

       The Moscow Spectacular

      In the wings behind the velvet curtains, Valentina Romanov was dashing up the rungs of the rope ladder. Through the curtains she could see the spotlights beginning to circle, seeking her out. The drums were rolling.

      When she reached the platform at the very peak of the big top, Valentina rose to her feet and stood curling her toes over the edge before looking down. She was twenty metres above the ground with nothing to hold on to and no safety net. Below her she could see the tigers prowling out of the ring, their shoulders hunched as СКАЧАТЬ