Ilil Arbel: Madame Koska and the Imperial Brooch

“It might be advisable,” said Madame Golitsyn. “Don’t tell him why you are going, only that you will be away for three days. He might wish to post a policeman there.”

“I should remove everything essential from the safe,” said Madame Koska. “If anyone breaks in, I may not be so lucky again and they might force the safe open.”

“Bring everything to me at the catering kitchen,” said Madame Golitsyn, “and put it in my safe. No one will ever guess.”

“Perfect!” said Madame Koska. “Thank you, Annushka. Now that we talked about it I can have some tea… this cake looks delicious.”

“It is,” said Madame Golitsyn, and cut two generous portions.

Early in themorning, Madame Koska sat at her drawing board, sketching a design for the Mistral Collection. Her drawing station overflowed with water colours, hard and soft pencils, erasers, quill pens with many different points, large paper sheets, cups holding water in various degrees of cleanliness and containers of many brushes with their wet bristles sticking up. It was the only place where she welcomed disorder or even chaos which somehow helped her creativity. Natalya, as usual earlier than everyone else, was embroidering in the sewing room, and all was peace and quiet until a light step and a cheery “Good morning, Miss Saltykov,” broke the silence as Gretchen entered the atelier.

“Good morning, Miss Van der Hoven,” said Natalya. Madame Koska noticed that Natalya was less nervous with Gretchen than with most of the other women. Gretchen was so simple, so easy to get along with, that her manner conquered even Natalya’s reticence.

“What is this beautiful thing you are working on, Miss Saltykov?”

“This is one of the two half-sheer panels for the bodice of Lady Victoria Ashton-Smith’s dress,” said Natalya. “Look, here is the finished one that I keep on hand for comparison as I work, to be sure that they are exactly the same. Do you like it?”

“Like it? I just love it. I want so much to wear it… These black and garnet beads, and the silver embroidery thread you put on the black lace… perfection, Miss Saltykov. I am experiencing severe envy.”

Natalya laughed. “You would look very nice in it, Miss Van der Hoven. The dress itself is dark crimson velvet, most becoming to you.”

“But more becoming to Lady Victoria with her very dark hair and pale skin, I have to admit…” said Gretchen. “I admired her when she came to be measured. I can appreciate great beauty in other women, I am not really jealous.”

“Of course not,” said Natalya. “Why should you be? And come to think of it, you would look better in gold embroidery rather than silver, because of your hair colour. I am sure you prepared some very nice clothes for your Christmas house party, anyway.”

“Oh, yes. I have some beautiful ensembles ready for it, and I made auntie buy me a few wonderful new hats and shoes. And Uncle Gerry bought Auntie and me a new piece of jewelry each for Christmas. It is a secret but I peeked and saw the packages as they arrived and Goldsmiths’ can only mean jewelry. I am so excited, I have no idea what he bought. Do you know that firm?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” said Natalya. “They are very famous and quite old. They started their firm in the eighteenth century. You will have a wonderful piece, I have no doubt of that; probably either intricately worked gold or a good gemstone.”

“Oh, how divine, I can’t wait! I did drop a hint or two recently about wanting a ruby solitaire ring that would fit my middle finger, it’s all the rage… not that I would object to a new gold bracelet… you know so much about jewelry, Miss Saltykov, I noticed that.”

“Naturally, after spending my youth at the Tsar’s court,” said Natalya, sighing. “I had seen so much good jewelry, both antique and modern. I think I can identify most jewelry houses by just looking at a piece they produced.”

“Don’t say such sad things… you are still so young and pretty, Miss Saltykov.”

“Pretty? Me? Oh no… thank you for the kind words but just look at me, so tall and awkward and thin… and I think I have started aging.”

“When I look at you, Miss Saltykov, I see how charming and elegant you could look in the right clothes.”

“But the right clothes cost so much money… which I don’t have. But we must not think sad thoughts, and I am so grateful I work here. Clothes and beauty aside, my life has become so much better since I came here, and of course we must look forward to Christmas and joy.”

“You would never guess what I did about Christmas,” said Gretchen, giggling. “I asked Auntie to invite Mr. Korolenko to the house party weekend! When I told her how he recognized me when he came over to give the English lesson to Madame Koska, she remembered him too and said she certainly would be happy to see him again and talk about old times. I believe she sent the invitation already. But don’t tell Madame Koska! I want her to be pleasantly surprised, finding her friend there.”

“How nice,” said Natalya. “I am sure she will be pleased. He is a very distinguished gentleman; he used to be a highly respected university professor in Russia, Madame Koska told me. He was not one of the Tsar’s entourage, so I do not know him myself.”

They stopped talking as the other women came in, and Gretchen went to sit by the front desk. Madame Koska, who had been listening to the entire conversation, began feeling very uncomfortable. Gretchen knew perfectly well that she could hear every word spoken in the sewing room. Did she want Madame Koska to know that Mr. Korolenko was coming, while pretending to surprise her? Can it be that for some reason Gretchen hoped that Madame Koska would cancel her own visit, just because Mr. Korolenko would be there? Did Gretchen suspect that Madame Koska wanted to investigate something? She sighed. Nothing made sense, and she decided that suspecting Gretchen of duplicity regarding the break-in was making her slightly paranoid about every word the poor girl uttered. She decided to pretend that she heard nothing and returned to her drawing. Perhaps the Christmas visit would relieve her from this anxiety, if it proved that Gretchen was quite the same empty-headed, sweet creature at home as well as at the atelier. Madame Koska certainly hoped for such an outcome.

Judging from theway Gretchen’s aunt had dressed, Madame Koska knew that the level of elegance at the Christmas house party would be demanding. She liked to describe her own wardrobe as “adequate,” but of course her clothes were much more than that. Years of professional haute couture were responsible for an exquisite array of clothes, always in the latest fashion, never gaudy or overstated, never too showy, always the right kind to enhance her patrician beauty in every stage of her life, at present in her late forties. Madame Koska held firmly to the idea that a woman could look wonderful at any age, with just a little thought and planning, and long ago had decided to always be a living proof to such conviction.

Preparing for the three Christmas days visit, she spent some time packing everything in large quantities of tissue paper and placing the garments in two suitcases and three hat boxes. She made sure her dresses, lingerie, nightgowns, shoes, cosmetics, and jewelry would arrive with little wrinkling or any other damage. She assumed a housemaid would help her unpack and iron what was necessary when arriving at the country house, but the less needed to be done, the better. Whenever she traveled, she liked to arrive at her destination and find out that everything needed only hanging and airing. Two morning outfits, since she would be wearing the third as she traveled, three afternoon ensembles, and two evening gowns would have been sufficient, but she added some alternates in case a change was needed from an afternoon ensemble to a specialized tea gown, depending on the habits of the house. It was essential that no outfit would be worn more than once. As for the shoes, she took two high-heeled pairs for the nights, three medium-heeled for afternoon or tea time, and two sturdy pairs of walking shoes for the mornings, in case a walk in the woods or park was suggested.