Three Weeks in Paris (36 page)

He had come a few days early, he explained, because he felt they needed a few days together, alone, away from Lochcraigie.

And on that first night, after they had made passionate love in her suite at the Meurice, she had found herself telling him about her visits to Dr. Boujon. There was nothing physically wrong with her; now that she knew this she had been able to confide her worries about not getting pregnant to her husband. The doctor had recommended that she do this, and it had been worth it.

After Ian had listened to her concerns about not conceiving, he had told her to stop worrying, that it didn’t trouble him at this moment in time.

His kindness and understanding had given her the courage to tell him about her past … all the terrible things that had happened to her when she was a child. Ian had listened closely, and very quickly the expression of horror and shock on his face had turned to one of compassion mingled with love. And when she had finished at last, he took her in his arms and held her close, wanting to nurture and protect her. After a while he said, “That a man could take advantage of a child in that way is horrendous, so vile, it is inconceivable to me. However you coped with it I will never know, but you must have been a very brave little girl, and your mother must have been too.”

Ian had touched her cheek gently and kissed her forehead, then looked deeply into her eyes. “But now you have me to look after you, Kay darling, and I’ll never let anyone hurt you ever again.”

She had held on to him tightly, loving him more than ever for being such a good man. She also understood that he had never changed toward her. All of that had been in her head. And later she had wondered why she had never trusted their love enough to tell him about her past before. She had no answer for herself. But at that moment, she vowed never to doubt him or his love for her ever again.

Now Kay rose from the dressing table, satisfied with her makeup and hair, and moved across the bedroom. Tall, slender, long-limbed, and elegant. She was already wearing stockings and high heels, and she took the champagne-colored chiffon dress from its hanger, stepped into it.

Suddenly, as if she had summoned him, Ian was standing there, hovering in the doorway, looking handsome in his tuxedo. “Shall I zip you up, my sweet?”

Turning, she smiled. “Thanks, Ian.”

Once she had smoothed the dress down and adjusted it on her body, she swung around. “Do you like it?”

“It’s wonderful on you, so … frothy and light, and the necklace and earrings are perfect with it.”

“Thank you again for those beauties … and now I think we’d better go down to the bar. I’m sure the others are waiting.”

————

KAY SPOTTED ALEXA
the moment they entered the Bar Fontainebleau. She and Tom were seated at a table in a corner near the window, and she raised her hand and waved.

As Kay and Ian drew closer, she saw that Alexa was also wearing a chiffon dress; it looked as if it were cut on the bias and it was composed of variegated greens. To Kay it was the perfect choice. The mingled greens matched Alexa’s eyes, set off her dark hair.

Tom jumped up and greeted them, and, once they were seated, the waiter brought them glasses of champagne. A moment after this, Jessica arrived with Mark Sylvester. Jessica had chosen to wear a pale blue organza gown delicately patterned with trailing darker blue flowers, and like Kay’s and Alexa’s, it was light and airy, floated gently around her as she moved.

As soon as Mark and Jessica drew to a standstill at the table, Alexa said with a light laugh, “Well, I see we all had the same idea about a June party in Paris, and what to wear.”

Mark, his eyes roving over them, said, “You’re going to be the belles of the ball.”

“Oh, no!” Kay exclaimed, smiling, her eyes sparkling. “That role is reserved for Anya.”

Alexa, glancing from Tom to Ian to Mark, exclaimed,

“But one thing is certain, girls, we’ve got the most handsome men for our escorts.”

“Thanks for the rather nice compliment, Alexa,” Ian responded. He liked Kay’s girlfriends, and the men in their lives, all of whom he had met last night. Tom had taken everyone to dinner at the beautiful L’Ambroisie in the Place des Vosges. It had been the kind of evening he had not had in a long time, and he had appreciated every moment of it.

But most of all he had enjoyed meeting Anya Sedgwick, and he had listened to her raptly as she extolled Kay’s virtues, acclaimed her talent, and confided how much she loved his wife, “cherished her” was the way she had put it. He had been bursting with pride, and love for his wonderful Kay.

And her great-nephew Nicky had been charming, friendly, and highly amusing. While the fourth member of the quartet, Maria Franconi, had been such a knockout in her simple black dress and pearls, none of the other diners had been able to take their eyes off her.

Now Ian said, “I suppose Nicky and Maria are not coming for drinks with us. I rather got the impression they were going to collect Anya and take her to the party directly.”

“Anya didn’t want to be late,” Alexa explained. “She wanted to be there first, to greet the guests as they arrived.”

More flutes of champagne arrived at the table for Jessica and Mark, and the six of them now clinked glasses and toasted one another. And then they settled down to chat for a short while before leaving for Ledoyen.

ANYA, FLANKED BY NICKY AND MARIA, STOOD IN THE
entrance foyer of Ledoyen, glancing about her.

A look of enchantment crossed her face, brought a sparkle to her blue eyes, a glow to her face. “Oh, Nicky, my darling boy, you’ve outdone yourself!” she exclaimed, turning to him, clutching his arm. “This is simply beautiful!”

He smiled with pleasure and gratification. “I’m glad you like it. I wanted you to feel … at home.”

Anya laughed her light, tinkling laugh that was ageless, and took a step forward, her eyes everywhere. What Nicky had done was re-create the front façade of her black-and-white half-timbered manor house in Paris, with its trellis and ivy growing up part of the façade. This replica was actually a trompe l’oeil, the style of painting that gave an illusion of reality, like a photograph, and the giant canvas was attached to a long wall at one side of the foyer. This entire area had been designed to look like the cobbled courtyard of her house; the cherry tree in full bloom was there, with the four metal garden chairs standing underneath its laden branches. And her flower garden, enclosed
within a white picket fence, took pride of place at the other side of the foyer.

Taking hold of her arm, Nicky said, “Come along, Anya, I’ve more surprises for you.”

Still smiling broadly, Anya allowed herself to be propelled up the staircase. “Where are we going?” she asked, filled with curiosity and anticipation.

“For cocktails,” Maria said, beaming at her.

Anya nodded, glanced at Maria out of the corner of her eye, thinking how marvelous she looked, slimmer than ever and elegant in a midnight-blue chiffon gown with a strapless top and a flowing skirt, her only jewelry a thin strand of tiny diamonds around her neck and diamond studs in her ears.

“Maria, you’re simply exquisite,” Anya murmured, momentarily awed by the girl’s staggering beauty tonight.

“It’s thanks to Nicky, he chose my dress. It’s from Balmain,” Maria said.

“Oh, it’s not the dress I’m talking about, but you, my dear.”

Maria flushed slightly, smiled with pleasure. “And you look wonderful in your signature red, Anya.”

Anya said, “Well, you know I’ve always loved red. It makes me feel happy. Not that I need a color to do that for me tonight. I’d be happy whatever color I was wearing.”

When they reached the landing of the second floor, Nicky took hold of Anya’s hand and led her toward large double doors. He opened them, ushered her inside, and exclaimed, “
Voilà
!”

Anya gasped, truly surprised.

She stood staring at another replica, this time of the sitting room of her house in Provence, the house Hugo had bought for her years ago, and where they had spent so many happy times together. Nicky had used Provençal country furniture, many bright colors reminiscent of the
real room, and in doing so had created a perfect copy. Waiters and waitresses, dressed in the local costumes of the area, stood around smiling, ready to serve drinks.

“
Nicky, oh, Nicky
” was all Anya could manage to say as he guided her through the room and into one that adjoined.

Now she found herself in a Russian dacha filled with rustic peasant furniture, and here, to make it completely authentic in mood, were waiters wearing scarlet and gold Cossack tunics, baggy pants tucked into black boots.

She stood stock-still, glancing around, endeavoring to take everything in, but Nicky would not permit her to linger long. He took her hand in his, moving her forward and into a third room.

Anya was startled, amazed, and touched all at the same time, and she experienced a rush of emotion. Here she stood, in the living room where she had grown up in London with her parents. Nicky had re-created it down to the last detail. Tears suddenly sprang into her eyes.

Turning to him, she asked a little tremulously, “How on earth did you manage this?”

“With your sister’s help. Aunt Ekaterina was my marvelous partner in crime, so to speak. She had some old photographs of your parents’ living room, which were a great help. But most important, she has a photographic memory, and it’s not dimmed by age at all.”

“I should hope not!” Anya exclaimed, blinking back her tears, walking around the room, noting the samovar, and the icons on velvet-skirted tables. Nicky had found so many objects similar to the things her mother had owned and loved, and all were arrayed here. There were photographs in old Fabergé frames … obviously borrowed from Katti … photographs of her parents, the Romanovs, her siblings … and of her when she was a young girl. And the color scheme of pale blue and gold was the one her
mother had so loved. Even the furniture was similar to the pieces she had grown up with.

Slowly, she walked back to Nicky and embraced him. “Thank you, thank you,” she said, her voice choked. “Thank you for bringing so many of my very cherished memories to life tonight.”

A waiter rigged out as an English butler came forward with a tray of drinks, and the three of them took flutes of champagne. They clinked glasses and said cheers at the same time, and Nicky added, “I want you to have the most wonderful evening, Anya.”

“I know I will, and what you’ve done is quite extraordinary.”

He laughed. “There are still a few surprises in store for you, Anya.”

“I can’t believe you can top this! Such as what?” she probed.

“Oh, you’ll just have to wait and see,” he teased.

“Now, where do you want to greet your guests? Which room?” Nicky asked.

“I’m not sure, darling boy, each room is so very special.”

“Perhaps we should wait in the first room, because everyone enters there,” Maria suggested.

“Good idea, my sweet,” Nicky said, and together the three of them walked back to the Provençal sitting room with its small tables covered with the cheerful red, green, and yellow tablecloths from Provence. Brown ceramic jugs filled with tall sunflowers stood on a long sideboard and the scent of lavender filled the air.

As they entered, one of the waitresses wearing a Provençal costume came over to them holding a tray, and Anya smiled when she saw all of her favorite things. Warm piroshki, the small Russian pastries filled with chopped meat, dollops of caviar atop tiny baked potatoes,
smoked salmon on toast, and miniature English sausage rolls.

“Well,” she exclaimed, “I can’t resist these. I must sample one of each.”

“I hoped you would,” Nicky said. “I’ll join you.”

And then a few minutes later the guests began to arrive.

————

ANYA WAS SUDDENLY
surrounded by family.

Her sister and brother-in-law, Katti and Sacha, and all the Lebedevs, kissing her, congratulating her. And then her brother, Vladimir, and his wife, Lili, and their children, so warm and loving. And behind them came her own children, Olga and Dimitri, and their families, hugging her, wishing her a happy birthday, their faces smiling and happy.

After them came the tribe of Sedgwicks, also full of love for her … and so many old friends from across the years followed, and the students who had passed through the school and remained close to her for over thirty years or more.

And then at last her special girls
.

Her four favorites from the class of ’94. Alexa, Jessica, Kay, and Maria. How beautiful they all looked as they now walked toward her, escorted by the men in their lives, handsome, elegant in their dinner jackets.

Alexa, Kay, and Jessica greeted her, and so did Tom, Ian, and Mark, and then with Nicky the three men stepped back so that she was left alone with the quartet.

“It goes without saying that you all look gorgeous!” Anya exclaimed, beaming at them. “And before we go any further, I want to thank you all for your gifts. Kay, this antique shawl is exquisite, I couldn’t resist wearing it tonight. And as you see, it’s the same red as my gown. And, Jessica, the icon is a prize, and it has pride of my place in my
sitting room. And so does your lacquered box, Alexa. The painting of St. Petersburg on its lid is a little jewel. Thank you, thank you.” Anya smiled at Maria, and finished. “As for your painting, Maria, it is absolutely extraordinary, and it is now hanging in my bedroom. I thank you so much for parting with it.”

Maria blushed and smiled but remained silent.

Anya’s eyes swept over them again, and she said softly, in the most intimate of voices, “I am so happy you all came to Paris early, so that we had time to visit and you had the chance to air your differences and make up. And I can see that you have.”

“It’s like old times,” Alexa said. “We’re here for each other. Forever. Through thick and thin. Aren’t we, girls?”

They all agreed with her, and Kay said, “It doesn’t seem like seven years at all, only yesterday that we were here at your school, Anya.”