Ilil Arbel: Madame Koska and the Imperial Brooch

“Yes, of course, my dear. Let’s go to the room that vill be my office and talk about your position,” she said. They went into a small room, which had only a desk and a few chairs in it. “Do sit down, ve must make do vith vhat ve have. So, Miss Saltykov, ven vould you like to start vorking? The sooner the better for me, I am sure.”

“Right away if you vish,” said Natalya. “I brought the samples of vork for to show how I do…” Her broken English would soon mend, thought Madame Koska enviously. These Russians had a natural knack for languages, such a useful talent… but the thought flew out of her mind when she saw the first garment. She gasped. Used as she was to good bead work, this was above and beyond anything she had ever seen. Tiny pearls, perfectly sewn to the scarlet velvet of the short bolero-like vest, and couched with delicate gold embroidery, gave the effect of such opulence, such grandeur, as to bring tears to the eyes of a professional.

Madame Golitsyn smiled with satisfaction. She knew the effect her niece’s work always created. The other garment, pure lavender chiffon worked with amethysts and lapis lazuli beads, was so delicate it could probably soar if not firmly held. Madame Koska shook her head with disbelief. “My dear Miss Saltykov, you are an artiste ! Of course you can’t start working until we open, but once we do, you shall be my head beader.” She named a very adequate salary, and to her surprise, Natalya started crying. “Vhat is the matter?” Madame Koska asked and Madame Golitsyn just hugged the girl and smiled at Madame Koska. “She is just happy,” she said to her friend.

“Yes, very happy,” said Natalya, sniffing. “I don’t like how zey vere tricking me in Paris, alvays arguing about money, not giving vhat zey promise… now I just do vork, don’t have to talk about money, I love my beading and ze pearls, love ze vork…” She touched her eyes with her handkerchief. Madame Koska noticed a border of extremely beautiful drawn thread work around it. Yes, she must love her work if she did that on a simple linen handkerchief, not even the proper voile… She looked at the girl with compassion mixed with some doubt.

“Let’s have some tea,” she said. “Vould you come over here for a second, Anna?”

“Certainly. One second. Natalya, stop crying. Everything will be fine and remember, Saltykov. Always remember it.” They moved away to a table where a thermos and some cups promised a picnic-like tea.

“She did not cry from happiness,” said Madame Koska, pouring tepid tea into the cups. “Or at least, not only from happiness. And what about Saltykov? Why must she remember it and how is it connected to the new job?”

Madame Golitsyn sighed. “No, it was not just happiness that made her cry. She really is very happy about the job, yes, and the good salary you offered, for which I also thank you. But she is struggling with the fact that while she is a scion of one of the most noble families in old Russia, she must work at all. This bead and pearl embroidery was her hobby in Russia, a pastime. She feels humiliated by having to work for a living. She must get used to it, and I know it sounds contradictory, but nevertheless she must remember being a Saltykov because it boosts her self-esteem. You see, we are quite an important family. It was a Saltykov who was chosen to be the father of Catherine the Great’s first child when her husband could not give her one…”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Empress Elizabeth, who was the aunt of Peter, Catherine’s husband, realized that an heir to the throne was needed as soon as possible, but it might take years to cure her nephew of an illness that prevented him from producing children. Catherine was actually a virgin after a year of marriage. So, Elizabeth suggested a couple of young gentlemen, members of the most important families, as prospective fathers. Catherine chose one of them, a Saltykov, and he became her lover and gave her a child. All very discreet, very few people knew about it.”

“Her aunt-in-law arranged it? What a story!”

“Elizabeth was practical if nothing else. To keep the throne secure, an heir was absolutely needed. It was much more important than any question about morals.”

“You never mentioned it to me,” said Madame Koska.

“I live in the present, dorogaya . I don’t want to dream about past glories.”

“But Natalya can’t.”

“Not yet. Hopefully, she will, eventually. I think the pride she is going to take in being appreciated by you and her co-workers for her remarkable skill will help.”

“A highly successfulopening reception,” said Madame Golitsyn to Natalya, who seemed to be a little out of place in her plain black dress.

“Yes indeed,” said Natalya, obviously ill at ease; she was hunched as if trying to minimize herself and hide behind Madame Golitsyn, which could not work since Madame Golitsyn was so much shorter than she. “But I really should not be here, Aunt Anna. I shouldn’t have come.”

“And why not, Natalya? Until you start working here, you are my niece, and you are perfectly entitled to come to a reception given by my very dear friend, not to mention catered by me. Look what a nice time your father is having.”

Natalya looked at her father with an indulgent smile. Yes, she thought. He was having a wonderful time, eating, drinking, talking to three elegant women at once… “Dear father,” she said. “I am so happy you brought us to England. He will be so much happier here.”

“And not drive a taxi anymore, either,” said Madame Golitsyn. “And why didn’t you wear something with your pearl embroidery? It would have caused an instant sensation; everyone here is a lover of fashion.”

“I did not think it would be appropriate to stand out,” said Natalya weakly. She realized too late that she would have stood out a lot less if she were better dressed.

“Well, never mind all that. Everything will be fine, stop worrying, malenkaya .” They spoke in Russian, as they always did, and suddenly Madame Golitsyn thought that Natalya’s English must be improved as quickly as possible; not that it would be difficult, since despite her timidity, Natalya was extremely talented. She took two glasses of champagne from a tray held by one of the women whom she remembered seeing when she first brought Natalya to the Dressmaking Establishment. The woman smiled and moved quietly and expertly among the guests, and Madame Golitsyn surveyed the glittering scene with satisfaction. The rooms, restored to perfect order, showed their elegant proportions, and were showcased by the creamy walls, the dark red window treatments, and the oriental carpets. Huge vases of flowers, all white, were beautifully arranged on low tables. The chandeliers gleamed and threw colorful rainbows. People seemed to enjoy her canapés as they drank their champagne. They clearly also appreciated the stuffed blintzes, the pride of her catering business, and adored by all her clients. The excellent fruit tarts and other pastries seemed to vanish very quickly.

“Look, here comes the beautiful Gretchen,” said Madame Golitsyn. “I must introduce her to Vera, she is going to work as a mannequin, I hope.”

Quickly approaching the girl, who had just entered the room, she took her to Madame Koska, who was by one of the serving tables. “Vera, my dear, I would like to introduce Mevrouw Gretchen Van der Hoven, of whom I have told you. Gretchen, this is my very dear friend, Madame Vera Koska.”

In a blink of an eye, faster than one word said aloud, Madame Koska took measure of the quality of the potential mannequin even before her own hand was raised high enough to shake the girl’s hand. She had rarely seen such beauty. Gretchen Van der Hoven was tall and willowy, with a perfect figure. She wore a well-fitting, clearly expensive suit, made of shantung silk of a soft caramel color. The skirt was ankle length, and the jacket, shorter than the blouse, created a three-layered look. She was evidently a Eurasian. Her eyes, very dark, long and narrow under the slightly diagonal brows, the soft, rounded features, the ivory-colored skin with just a touch of golden tint to warm it, and the full mouth emphasized by the red lipstick, indicated her origin. Her hair, straight and thick like most Eurasian hair, was not black. Peeking from under the large brown hat made of crushed velvet and embellished with golden silk poppies, it was the color of dark amber. Most unusual, thought Madame Koska, and yet unquestionably natural and without any help from the art of the coiffeur; she would do very well as a mannequin.