To Dream of Snow Read online

  ‘But I will accept the appointment, Madame la Comtesse!’ she exclaimed swiftly.

  The Comtesse was staring at her in disbelief. ‘You would seriously consider obeying this demand for your presence?’

  ‘Yes, Madame.’

  ‘Are you aware just how far away Russia is?’

  ‘Yes, indeed! I know that journeys there take many weeks.’

  ‘But you still do not seem to realize what you would be accepting. The Empress is insatiable when it comes to clothes. Your hours would be long. On a whim of the Empress you might have to work twenty-four hours a day to finish something for her.’

  Marguerite thought to herself that this aristocrat and others born to riches like her had no idea how often grisettes like herself slaved through many midnight hours until dawn to finish some garments ordered imperiously at short notice before continuing the normal day’s tasks.

  ‘I’m used to working hard,’ she said quietly. ‘When there are no immediate orders for embroidery at Madame Fromont’s establishment I take my place with the other seamstresses and often have the dullest of dressmaking tasks instead of the creative work that I love.’ She leaned forward eagerly, putting forward the only argument that the Comtesse would understand. ‘In the Tsarina’s employ I would have my own atelier and always have wonderful work to do. I’d take pride and pleasure in it. And I’m sure I should soon learn to speak Russian.’

  ‘I’m sure you would. The Grand Duchess Catherine, who is only a few years older than you, mastered it early in her marriage and she is German by birth. Fortunately she is also fluent in French, which is the language of the Russian Court. But it is a barbaric court with a glittering veneer of great ceremonies and magnificent palaces and fine clothes that hides an abysmal lack of culture.’ She shook her head disdainfully. ‘It is as different from the Court of Versailles in that respect as chalk is from cheese. Several of the Russian aristocracy are common people to whom on a mere whim the Empress – just like Peter the Great before her – has given a title with property, land and probably as many as a thousand serfs. Naturally the old noble families dislike all the upstarts and yet few of the ladies, whether noble or otherwise, are literate! How the Grand Duchess, who comes from a cultured family, has adapted to such barren ground I do not know.’

  Marguerite answered carefully. ‘But I shall not be involved in the Court itself. My world will be on a different level with only the Empress and the Grand Duchess to please and I’m sure that I could do that.’ She had had plenty of experience in dealing with difficult women to be confident on that score. Even the Comtesse had never been easy!

  Although normally the Comtesse had no interest in working people beyond their capacity to wait on her, she felt it would be a great loss if this young woman’s exceptional talent should be damaged in any way.

  ‘Think carefully,’ she urged, leaning forward. ‘Let me emphasize again the Empress’s terrible temper. As for the excesses of her immoral way of life, I cannot bring myself to mention them.’ She passed a hand delicately across her lips in emphasis. ‘She plays vicious and humiliating tricks on both her male and female courtiers. Her ministers all go in fear of displeasing her in case she should banish them to some distant place! She could send you back to France for the slightest error.’

  ‘What kind of man is the Tsar? Why does he indulge her whims?’

  ‘There is no tsar. The Empress has never married. She was a young woman when she lost the love of her life after he contracted smallpox and died. Then she seized the Throne of all the Russias through a conspiracy. The more rightful heir, a mere boy, Ivan VI, is shut away in a fortress somewhere.’ The Comtesse paused dramatically. ‘Surely you would not wish to be employed by such a cruel and wicked woman?’

  ‘I will take my chance,’ Marguerite answered firmly, ‘and make sure she never has any cause to turn against my fellow workers or against me.’

  The Comtesse sighed, seeing there was no changing the young woman’s mind. ‘Then you will need some instruction as how to address the Empress when you take designs to her and you must also be told about the customs that have to be observed by everybody. Before you leave here today talk to my personal maid. She will give you all the information and also tell you what will be needed in the matter of warm clothes and various necessities when travelling. It will be very cold in Russia by the time we arrive.’

  The maid proved to be friendly and helpful, adding a few warnings of her own. Marguerite made a list of everything she needed to remember.

  She kept up a quick pace as she retraced her steps back to work. The sooner she broke the news of her departure to Madame Fromont the better. Fortunately she had finished the major work on the gold-satin skirt and so she would not be leaving her employer with that task unfinished. Already new designs for the future were dancing in her head. She saw embroidering for the Empress as a challenge. It would be a French triumph to please her as well as a personal one. She welcomed the prospect wholeheartedly. Most important of all would be a new peace of mind in which she could find her beloved Jacques again.

  Two

  In her office Madame Fromont listened attentively as Marguerite recounted all that had taken place on her visit. Finally the woman gave a slow nod of her head and smiled at her reassuringly.

  ‘I have no intention of putting any barriers in your way and I wish you well in this new venture, Marguerite. You need to get away from Paris for a while. You have never recovered from the shock of that day we all remember with great sadness. This opportunity could not have come at a better time for you or for me.’

  ‘For you, madame?’ Marguerite was puzzled.

  ‘I’m not well and my doctor has advised retirement. I have been postponing the moment, but now you have helped me come to a decision. If any of my workers are prepared to go with you, they are all free to make a choice, except the young ones apprenticed to me. They must remain. I have had several offers for the business and the would-be purchaser I favour most has needlewomen of her own, but has guaranteed that she will take on those wanting to stay. So why not speak to your fellow embroiderers after work today and see what happens?’

  Marguerite was astonished by the woman’s magnanimity, even though – unlike the majority of others in her position – she had always been a considerate employer. ‘You are helping me a great deal. Time is short as the Comtesse will be leaving in a matter of days. I had intended to try for volunteers among those I know in other sewing establishments.’

  ‘There’s no need.’

  It was late evening when the day’s work ended and everybody was impatient to get home when Madame Fromont gathered her embroiderers together in the largest workroom. She spoke first, explaining that she had decided to sell the business. Immediately there were cries of dismay, but quickly she changed their anxious and, in some cases, frightened expressions by reassuring them that they would be able to stay on under the new owner.

  ‘But,’ she concluded, ‘Marguerite has a proposal to announce with my goodwill and some of you may wish to take advantage of it.’ Then with a final glance at them all she left the room and returned to her office.

  Marguerite knew that most of the women would have no idea where Russia was located or anything about it and she began by explaining how great the distance was from France. Then she put the facts forward as bluntly as the Comtesse had done to her, hearing gasps of astonishment and incredulity from those gaping at what they were hearing. She warned of inevitable homesickness and emphasized that she could not take anyone with family ties and responsibilities, for the obvious reason that travelling to and fro would be impossible and there was no way of knowing how long they would be expected to stay in Russia.

  ‘Anyone interested must think it over carefully. I have to ask for a decision by the day after tomorrow at the latest,’ she concluded, ‘because the entourage will be leaving next week and travelling papers must be obtained.’

  At first there was a stunned silence. Then came an outburst of refus
al and derision, only a few remaining silent.

  ‘No! You must be mad to think of it, Marguerite! That Tsarina sounds a monster! She could have our throats cut for a misplaced stitch! Leave home for that? Never!’

  Ignoring the jibes of those already departing, some looking back over their shoulders at her as they laughed together, Marguerite turned to see how many had remained in the room. There were only five. Like most of the embroiderers in the establishment they had been trained as dressmakers before specializing in the more delicate work. She would be glad to have any one of them in her team.

  ‘Are you all considering the proposal?’ she asked. Then, as they nodded, she added, ‘But I did say that I couldn’t take anyone with family responsibilities.’ Her gaze had rested on one of the women, who stood with folded arms. She was solidly built, amiable and level-headed, and although she was only in her early forties her hair was prematurely white.

  ‘I’ll go on one condition,’ she stated decisively.

  ‘But you are married, Jeanne Dudicourt,’ Marguerite pointed out.

  ‘I’ll be thankful to leave my drunken sot of a husband!’ Jeanne replied forcefully. ‘I should have done it years ago, but I had the two kids and nowhere to go. Now my son is a mercenary in the army and I haven’t seen him since he marched off to a war seven years ago. I just hope to God that he’s still alive somewhere!’ Briefly she put her hands together in an attitude of prayer and shook her head anxiously. ‘So I’ll leave word with a neighbour as to my whereabouts in case he should ever turn up again. But I’ll also make her swear never to let the drunkard know anything. Not that he’d ever be able to find me! But I’ll only come if I can bring Rose, my daughter, with me. She’s seventeen, a good little needlewoman. She works over at the Desgranges atelier.’

  ‘If she’s willing to come I’ll accept her on your recommendation.’

  ‘Maybe my sister Sophie would come too. She embroiders for a bitch of a woman at the Valverde place and I know she’s been looking for a place elsewhere, but it’s not so easy. If she’s interested shall I bring her to see you?’

  Marguerite nodded. ‘Come to my place tomorrow evening when everyone has had time to think things over. Bring Rose too. We’ll have a glass of wine.’

  Another voice, rich in throaty cadences, spoke up. ‘I’m volunteering to go with you, Marguerite! It will break the monotony of this place and be an adventure if nothing else!’ The speaker was Violette Narbonne, her attractive feline face full of amusement, her hair a mane of wild, corn-gold curls.

  Jeanne gave her an amused glance. ‘Have you run out of Parisian lovers at last?’

  Violette laughed, her blue eyes twinkling. ‘No, far from it, but a change should be interesting. I like the idea of a whole new field of handsome men.’

  Although Marguerite could foresee some trouble in taking her there was no doubt that the young woman’s buoyant good humour and ability to see the funny side of events could help enormously in times of gloom, which were bound to occur from time to time. Then, turning her attention to the remaining three women, who were whispering together, she said questioningly, ‘Charlotte? Hortense? Berthe?’

  ‘We’re thinking about it,’ they replied in unison, but there was a negative tone in their voices.

  Marguerite bade them all goodnight as they left. It looked as though at the final count she would have four embroiderers to go with her. She went at once to report the result to Madame Fromont, who nodded approvingly.

  ‘Well done, Marguerite. You’ll need good company when you’re far from home. I should not have liked to see you depart on your own.’

  As Marguerite left the building she found one of the apprentices, Isabelle Pieron, waiting for her. ‘Mam’selle Marguerite! Can you spare me a moment, please!’

  ‘Yes, of course, Isabelle.’ Marguerite knew her background. She was the only child of a weak, ineffectual mother and a brutal stepfather. Before coming to the Fromont establishment the girl had worked almost from babyhood with her mother in a silk mill and bad conditions as well as a poor diet had taken its toll on her. Small and thin, she looked older than her sixteen years, her soft fair hair pushed back under her hat and her little face marred, not for the first time, by the fading yellow bruise from a black eye. ‘What did you wish to speak to me about?’

  ‘Let me go to Russia with you!’ It was an impassioned plea.

  Marguerite saw the desperation in the girl’s light-blue eyes. ‘How do you know I’m going to Russia? You were not in the room.’

  ‘I heard the others talking and jeering about it as they left while I was sweeping up. Then afterwards Jeanne and Violette were discussing it as they put on their hats.’

  Marguerite gave a little sigh. ‘I know from what I have seen for myself over past months that you do excellent work, but I think I have four embroiderers now, which is the number I need. In any case, I feel sure your stepfather would forbid it and Madame Fromont would not release you from your apprenticeship. I’m sorry, Isabelle.’ She would have moved on, but the girl caught her arm.

  ‘Wait, please! My mother would want me to go! She knows how my stepfather has always abused me and there’s nothing she or I can do to stop him! I’ve tried to get away from home more than once, but he has always found me and dragged me back again. In Russia he could never get me!’ Tears suddenly burst out of the girl’s eyes and she threw her arms over her head, crying out in anguish. ‘I swear I’d work my fingers to the bone!’

  ‘Hush!’ Marguerite, moved by pity and shocked by the girl’s torment, drew her into a doorway, for her noisy sobbing was attracting attention. Holding the girl to her, she saw under a pushed-up sleeve the black bruising on the girl’s forearm. Remembering that the Tsarina’s letter had said four or five embroiderers, she gave another little sigh. ‘I can’t make any promises, Isabelle. All I can say is that I’ll speak to your mother. Tell her to meet me here at this time tomorrow evening. If she gives her permission I’ll also talk to Madame Fromont on your behalf.’

  The meeting took place as arranged. After the matter had been fully discussed Marguerite agreed to take Isabelle, providing Madame Fromont could be persuaded to release her. To Marguerite’s embarrassment the girl’s mother snatched up her hand and kissed it in tearful gratitude.

  Madame Fromont called Marguerite into her office again early next morning. On her desk were boxes of trimmings.

  ‘I suggest you take a supply of these with you,’ the woman said. ‘You may have them at less than cost price. I’ll give you some of the mannequin dolls too.’

  ‘That’s most generous!’ Marguerite exclaimed. ‘I had thought to take some emergency supplies.’

  ‘It would be wise. After all, there’s no telling how difficult it might be to obtain French trimmings and the Empress seems set on having a Parisian look to the gowns you are to make her. After all, what I have here may be surplus to the new owner’s requirements and so you might as well have them.’

  Together they spent a while making a selection of dainty ribbons, pearly sequins, delicate braids, colourful buttons and even a stock of embroidery silks in every hue. When it came to reckoning up the cost of these items Madame Fromont took only a token payment, refusing anything more. When Marguerite thanked her she merely shook her head.

  ‘You’ve been a good worker ever since you first came here as a little girl in your late sister’s time, starting with picking up fallen pins and matching silk threads. Nobody knew then what a fine design seamstress and embroiderer you would become. I had always hoped to gain business at Versailles, which would have given you the opening you deserve with your original designs, but with so many dressmakers in Paris that was not to be. The Comtesse d’Oinville has been like many other women of her class in never revealing the name of a dressmaker they wish to keep exclusively for themselves. But now you will have the chance you deserve at the Russian Court instead and you have a good team going with you!’

  ‘There is an apprentice seamstress I should very much
like to take with me if you would allow it.’ Then Marguerite pleaded Isabelle’s case. When Madame Fromont had heard all the details she agreed to a cancellation of the apprenticeship.

  That evening the volunteers met at Marguerite’s garret room, Isabelle included. Jeanne had brought her daughter Rose, who was an impish-looking brunette with a short, pert nose and a happy smile. She was full of excitement.

  ‘This will be a real adventure, Mam’selle Marguerite!’ she declared, green eyes dancing.

  Jeanne’s sister, Sophie Bouvier, had also decided to accompany her sister and niece. ‘I’ve always wanted to travel,’ she confessed, ‘and this will be a great opportunity to see other countries.’

  She was tall and willowy with glossy black hair, her only resemblance to Jeanne being that they both had velvety-brown eyes. Both she and Rose had brought examples of their embroidery for Marguerite to approve and she saw at a glance that she had two skilful needlewomen with her.

  She served wine and cake before telling them all they would need to take with them for the journey and afterwards answering their questions to the best of her knowledge. Then she spread out a map borrowed from the Comtesse’s maid and they gathered round as she traced the route for them.

  ‘From Paris we shall travel by way of Rheims to Liège and after that we leave our homeland behind us to follow this route’ – she traced it with her fingertip – ‘until we reach Cologne. From there we travel on through many more German towns to get to Gotha. Then comes Leipzig followed by Dresden and Frankfurt-on-Oder. Afterwards there’s a long stretch through Prussia, passing through the city of Königsberg and on again until we cross the Russian border to reach Riga. That’s when we’ll be on the last lap of the journey to St Petersburg!’

  She straightened up triumphantly and then saw the uncertain expression on all their faces.

  ‘Merciful heaven!’ Jeanne exclaimed breathlessly. ‘It really is a long way!’