Marianne swallowed. “We wondered if there had been a mistake,” she explained. “We were left on the train.”
“And then,” added Sophie, “kicked off the train.”
Ivan Ivanovich still looked puzzled. “I think you have had a long journey and you are tired,” he said. “We still have a long way to go until we arrive in the Volkonsky forest. The princess —”
“Princess?” Delphine choked on her blini.
“Her Serene Highness, the Princess Anna Feodorovna Volkonskaya!” Ivan said. “She requested your presence and I was sent to fetch you!”
Sophie looked at Delphine and Marianne. They looked as shocked as she felt. None of them seemed to know what to say. Instead they watched Ivan lighting a small bundle of twigs with a flourish and pushing them into a cavity below a dented, but highly polished, silver urn with a spout in the middle. Within seconds, the fire was hot enough to make the water inside the urn hiss. He set out a tray with glasses and a dish of ruby-colored jam, then turned a tap on the spout. Hot tea splashed into the first glass.
“Put a spoonful of jam in your tea.” He smiled encouragingly at Sophie. “It is how Russians drink it!”
Sophie stirred a spoonful of jam into the dark, steaming liquid, then put the glass to her lips and inhaled a smoky, bitter scent, like tree bark dipped in sugar. But after the first strange mouthful, she found herself wanting more, delighted at the warmth that chased away all of the cold locked in her body.
Ivan Ivanovich smiled. “This is what a good Russian tea will do for you!” he said. “It brings heat to the body. That is very important when there are twenty degrees of frost on the thermometer.” He poured a glass for himself, spooned in some jam, and stirred the tea, looking suddenly serious. “And of course, tea is the only thing to relievetoska.”
Marianne looked puzzled as she bit into her blini. “What istoska?” she asked.
“The word does not have a good translation in your language, but it is a sadness, a melancholy that afflicts the Russian soul. So, as a remedy, we drink tea!” He raised his glass in a salute.
“But you still haven’t explained,” Sophie burst out. “You are being very kind and it’s very good of you to come all this way to fetch us, but we weren’t told anything about a palace … or a princess …”
“It isn’t on our itinerary,” said Marianne, rather sternly.
“And I woulddefinitelyhave remembered if there had been anything about a princess,” Delphine added.
“You will meet the princess tomorrow. You will never have met a more cultured or beautiful woman.”
Delphine tucked her hair behind her ear and smoothed her coat. “I’m used to meeting important people,” she said.
“Delphine!” Marianne rolled her eyes and tried to kick her, but the fur rug had been wrapped too tightly around her knees.
“You do not need to worry about meeting the princess,” Ivan said, his voice grave. “She is a woman of enormous grace and intelligence.” He sighed. “I owe the Princess Volkonskaya everything. Fifteen years in the army and then one mistake. A coward tells lies about me and I am thrown out of the army. I cannot return to my village: The shame would kill my mother. So I live on the street. One summer night, the princess walks past. She sees a man crushed by lies, his honor torn to shreds.” He smiled. “But she sees more. She seestrust. She gives me a new life at the Volkonsky Winter Palace.”
Marianne fished her guidebook out of her battered leather bag. “Where is that?” She turned to the index and started looking through the entries.
“Beyond the White Lake,” Ivan said. “But you will not find the Volkonsky Winter Palace in any guidebook. It is a diamond in the snow, a palace of dreams, so remote it has been forgotten and the noble Volkonskys erased from the history books.”
He stepped across the carriage and pressed on the paneling. A door slid back to reveal a cabinet, fitted out as a compact traveling bathroom. He opened a deep drawer in a cupboard and brought out more furs and pillows, toothbrushes and nightgowns, putting a pile next to each of the girls.
“It would be well if you try to sleep,” he said. “Our journey is long and I do not wish you to be weary. The princess is anxious to meet you. I know you will want to make a good impression.”
He bowed and left them.
“What did I tell you scruffy English girls?” Delphine looked triumphant. “I said you would want to make a good impression one day!”
“At least I haven’t brought the sweater with the holes,” Sophie replied, but her mind was spinning with the images Ivan’s words had conjured up. A princess? A winter palace? And all too remote for anyone to know about?
She had wished for adventure — and now it was happening.
The train ran along over the rails, the wheels clicking like castanets. There was something so reassuring about this sound, about the velvety warmth of the train carriage, that made the girls feel quite happy to brush their teeth and put on the thick nightgowns Ivan had laid out for them. They lay down on the banquettes, tucking furs around them.
“Fancy being taken to stay in a palace.” Marianne put her glasses on top of her suitcase. “And meeting a princess.”
“I told you,” Delphine said, yawning. “All this fussing over tickets and itineraries and stations. Nothing ever goes wrong on a school trip.”
Sophie buried her fingers in the fur pelt. The skin crackled like paper; it must be very old. There were no sugar mice under her pillow, or chocolate cats, no pistol to guard against the bears and the wolves. Yet she was in Russia, on a train, and it was real, not just a London daydream.
