Ilil Arbel: Madame Koska and the Imperial Brooch

Natalya turned to her and smiled. “Because I thought you stole it, and hid it there deliberately, Madame Koska. I was worried you would be arrested, that you were desperate and did not know what to do with it. Therefore, I freely chose to give it to you. As I once told you, you have taken the Tzarina’s place in my heart. You gave me self-respect by allowing me decent employment, you transformed my looks, and most important, you began to free me from my fears. I wanted to save you from the results of what seemed to be a desperate act or a silly mistake. Even if you stole it, you are not a thief! I had the right to give you the brooch and I did so. There is no theft involved.”

“You did not try to take it with you after the Revolution?” asked Mr. Korolenko.

“No, I was one of the stupid ones who left their valuables in a bank safe. As you know, the smart ones hid them in their clothes, corsets, toys, plaster casts, ink pots… but I was so sure it would all return to normal. Stupid, stupid! Sometimes I hate myself for it.”

“Remember Countess Vera Lobanova-Rastovskaya, Mr. Korolenko?” asked Madame Golitsyn. “She succeeded in hiding many jewels in her thick hair. The auction, when she came to Paris, lasted six days.”

“I remember,” said Mr. Korolenko. “Yes, she hid them brilliantly. But don’t hate yourself about all that, Miss Saltykov. Many of us thought it would be over soon; it was natural to think so.”

“There was no need to be so secretive about it,” said the inspector.

“No? You might have arrested any of us. You hate the Russian nobility like all middle class people do.”

“Not at all,” said the inspector. “We have our own royalty and we love them. In the past we welcomed the French nobility who escaped the guillotine. These days we are more than happy to welcome the Russian nobility. And now that we have nothing to argue about, Miss Saltykov, and your innocence is established, I would like you to know that I personally welcome you to your new home.”

Natalya suddenly smiled at him, a very sweet smile. “Really, Inspector?” she said. “Why, thank you. I should have realised it…” and she sat down and crossed her ankles in her own ladylike way. Madame Koska and Madame Golitsyn exchanged a swift look that said “She is learning fast” and only Mr. Korolenko noticed the exchange between the ladies and smiled to himself.

“So what is going to happen to the brooch?” asked Madame Koska. “Can Miss Saltykov keep it?”

“I am afraid not,” said Mr. Korolenko. “The police will take it, and it will be months, if not years, before all the legal issues and the decision as to whom the brooch really belongs to is decided. It’s a politically charged subject.”

“I don’t mind,” said Natalya. “I wish Madame Koska could keep it, or sell it and invest in the atelier. As for me, I have freely given it up when I gave it to Madame Koska.”

“I say, this is a highly commendable attitude,” said the inspector. “We appreciate it.”

“I feel the time has come for me to give up the past anyway, Inspector,” said Natalya seriously. “The brooch belongs to a bygone age. I have started a whole new life.”

“I am happy to hear it,” said Madame Golitsyn. “We must adapt. Yes, we were nobility in Russia. But here we can be perfectly happy as middle class.”

“I am happy, Aunt Anna,” said Natalya. “I think I can get used to not being a countess, forget the Court, and live life as it is.”

“Miss Saltykov, we are now parting company, but I will always think of you as a countess,” said the inspector with unexpected gallantry.

“Parting company?” asked Natalya innocently. “Not at all. I am sure you will want me as witness, or whatever it is that is needed regarding the business of the brooch… and it will take a long time, as Mr. Korolenko said. I expect to see both of you again.”

“Yes, that is so, actually,” said the inspector, visibly cheered. “Well, it’s very late. I should be taking the two of you home, Madame Golitsyn. I hope you won’t mind riding in a police car.”

“Thank you,” said Madame Golitsyn. “Not a bit of it; we will like riding in it, won’t we, Natalya? It’s a new experience… My dearest Vera, I will sleep tonight, knowing you are safe. But what about Mr. Van der Hoven? Where do you plan to stay?”

“Tonight, at a good hotel,” said Mr. Van der Hoven. “Tomorrow, we should go home.”

“Home?” asked Madame Koska. “Where is it?”

“The house the Howards had occupied belongs to me, Madame Koska. I just lent it to them,” said Mr. Van der Hoven. “May I use your telephone? I’d like to call a hotel or two.”

“I am coming with you to the hotel,” said Gretchen, holding tightly to his arm. “I’ll never let you out of my sight again.” Mr. Van der Hoven laughed and patted her bright amber-coloured hair.

“Your daughter is wonderful, Mr. Van der Hoven. A perfect little vendeuse, did not even need training, and the most accomplished mannequin,” said Madame Koska.

“I will still come to work, Madame Koska, if father does not mind.”

“Until you go to university, my dear,” said Madame Koska.

“Yes, but when I am finished,” said Gretchen, “I will come back! I think the world of haute couture is more interesting than teaching…” Suddenly she gave Madame Koska a sly smile. “Madame Koska! I think your lessons with Mr. Korolenko really paid off. You are speaking with a much better accent, you are actually pronouncing the W!”

“How about that!” said Madame Koska calmly. “It must have been the shock that released me from the speech pattern. I heard such things happen after a shock. And indeed Mr. Korolenko is a splendid teacher, so I must have been ready for just such an event.”

“Yes indeed,” said Gretchen. “I did read about it in a very strange German book by Dr. Freud…”

Everyone left, andno one noticed that Mr. Korolenko remained sitting comfortably in his armchair, except Madame Koska.

“Mr. Korolenko, I think we deserve a glass of wine and some light supper,” said Madame Koska. “I never had any dinner, and I am sure you did not either.”

“That will be wonderful,” said Mr. Korolenko. “Indeed I have not had anything and it’s quite late.”

Madame Koska prepared a few sandwiches, poured the wine, and invited Mr. Korolenko to the table.

“And now,” said Madame Koska, as they were eating, “I can finally concentrate on the Mistral collection. I am free of the fear of someone breaking in any time.”

“You are free in every way, Madame Koska. It’s all over.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your husband is dead.”

“We are not entirely sure of that, Mr. Korolenko. Not unless they find his body.”

“He is dead for sure. But in the end, what difference does it make? You were never married to him; he was an Orlov, not a Koska, it was a sham. You are free either way, Vera.” He got up and took both her hands in his. “Won’t you ever allow yourself to love again?”

“Possibly, my dear Dmitri, quite possibly,” said Madame Koska; she did not pull her hands away. “But right now, as this ridiculously dramatic affair is behind us, I have the Mistral collection to think about.”

“And after that?”

“After that… I don’t know, I’ll have to adjust to the new circumstances.”

“I would like to be a part of the new circumstances.”

Madame Koska looked at the attractive face and warm brown eyes and smiled. “You will always be welcome to be a part of the new circumstances,” she said.