CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

A WHIRL-WIND COURTSHIP

Courtship is to marriage, as a very witty prologue to a very dull play.

—Anon

Tarasova House, No. 71 Svetlanskaya Street, Vladivostok, Far East Russia, August 10-18, 1879

Alexandra cloistered with her mother for a concentrated two-hour rendition of what had transpired, what had been said, and what was promised by her father’s and her day with Prince Boris. They plotted, argued, planned, and conspired, as mothers and daughters do as they scheme to ensnare a suitable marriageable young man. For all her girlish excitement, Alexandra kept a level head and made notes. What resulted was a clear but complex tactical plan, and the majority of what a wedding celebration would be. There, she and Irina differed.

“But, dear,” Irina tried to argue once again for her conviction that a lavish extravaganza at the House of Tarasova would be the only fitting way for Vladivostok’s princess—or the nearest the growing city separated from the seats of power in the west could produce—and for the Tarasova family.

“Let me tell you my ideas, Mother. I want something different, unique, and memorable. And for that matter, a lot of fun.”

“Don’t be silly, dear. Marriages are not supposed to be anything silly…like…fun. They are solemn occasions, important ones for establishing ourselves. Do you remember your sixteenth birthday party?”

“Of course, I do, Mother. How could anyone forget such a bacchanalia? Princes and grandees and the rich from all over the world. More wonderful food than a city could consume in a month. Don’t get me wrong. I thought my birthday and coming-out party was perfect…for the time…and for the purpose. This is different. Boris and I will be celebrating love, happiness, and, yes, fun. We want to make and keep friends, real friends. I think my ideas will be novel and interesting and will endear all those old generals, admirals, and tycoons to us. I have talked to Jamie Matheson about it. He agrees that it will be the talk of society for years.”

“Alexandra, do you hear yourself? You sound like a grammar school child about to go to her first party. You are a grown-up and a successful business person in your own right. You would give everyone the wrong idea if you insist on going through this silly affair. I forbid it.”

Irina knew that she had sealed her doom so far as the wedding was concerned by letting her emotions get the better of her. She could have kicked herself down the stairs for her outburst. She knew better than anyone else that Alexandra would never allow anyone to give her orders about her life. More than that, she knew that her headstrong daughter would react to her mother saying ‘I forbid it’ by doing everything in her power to thwart her.

Alexandra spoke calmly and coldly, “Mother, these are my plans for my marriage. First, you can invite anyone you want. That goes for Boris, for my brothers, for Father, and all of his business and shipping friends. I am going to invite whomever I want, and you do not get a veto. Second, I choose the location. That will be on our back lawn; it will accommodate hundreds. Third, I choose the menu with your help if you can catch the spirit of things. We are going to have a lawn party, a great picnic. Fourth, I am going to have modern music, not just those old people like Beethoven, Mozart, and Handel. I plan to hire small orchestras to play the folk tunes of Mikhail Glinka, music by the “Mighty Five”–Miliy Balakirev, Aleksandr Borodin, César Cui, Modest Musorgskiy, and Nikolay Rimskiy-Korsakov.”

“Who in the world are those people? I never head of them.”

“I am in a new generation, and one different from yours and my grandparents. The music my friends and I like is lively, exciting, and all about Russian life and folklore.”

“And ‘fun’, I suppose?”

“Yes, Mother, ‘and fun’. You need to give it a try. My wedding will be different, something to talk about, and something to remember us and our companies over. I guarantee that Boris Yusupov will be delighted, and his introduction into Russian life and that of our business partners all around us will be a most positive thing.”

“You always get what you want, no?”

“When I make up my mind, and I insist, Mother. And you have to agree, I am seldom, if ever, wrong about my firm convictions because I think them through. Will you help me or make things difficult?”

“I will have to help you. My goodness, I can only imagine what crazy things you would come up with without me to put a bridle on at least a few of them. Please promise me that you will listen to reason if I have a concern.”

“But, of course, Mother, I always do.”

Knowing that she could never succeed in a fight with her self-willed, obstinate, and overly intelligent daughter, Irina sighed.

“One last question, Alexandra. Does the groom-to-be agree to all of this modern folderol?”

“He will, once I tell him,” Alexandra replied with her patented irresistible and impish grin.

Irina suppressed a laugh and rolled her eyes theatrically.

Boris came down the stairs from his room on the third floor of Tarasova House looking freshly bathed and refreshed. He was dressed in the latest casual fashion for gentlemen: an informal tan matched three-piece wool sack suit with loose fitting Cossack style trousers which was now dominating men’s style in the Victorian era, knee-high riding boots from Paris, a beaver skin top hat (which came from the Tarasova emporium), a paisley cravat tied as a bow that formed almost, a Lavallière–his only nod to the ornamental in dress of the day–and a soft white linen shirt.

Alexandra was waiting on the marble floor at the bottom of the stairs. She gave a brief little clap and an affectionate smile as he reached her.

“Like my new fashion, Alexandra?” he asked.

“Love it. In fact, it is going to be part of my plan to modernize this stuffy old place and family.”

“Do you have a little time for me?” he asked.

“Always. How about a ride around the property?”

“I’d love to. Can we go the way we’re dressed?”

“I need to change into pants,” she said knowing that women wearing pants was strongly frowned upon.

She searched Boris’s face; and when she failed to see any disapproval, she scampered off to her room to change into riding pants. He almost had to turn away when he saw her youthful form in the tight-fitting pants. He breathed out slowly to settle himself down.

The couple rode out to the carefully preserved copse of white birch trees. Alexandra dismounted by throwing her right leg over the saddle and jumping gracefully to the ground. Boris moved a little more carefully.

“I have taken the liberty of getting tickets for the opera tonight…if you would like to go.”

“Which opera? I don’t really care so long as we go together,” Alexandra responded.

“Actually, it’s something rather modern, an operetta called Madame Favart, by a Frenchman named Jacques Offenbach.”

“Is it new?”

“New to here—maybe first presented in the late ‘fifties. Apparently, it has been popular ever since—stood the test of time.”

“Someday, we really must go to Berlin, or London, or Paris, or Moscow, or Saint Petersburg and see the great and new entertainments available. It always seems like Vladivostok and the Irkutsk oblast are backward and lacking modern changes,” she said.

What happened next, struck Boris for some reason he would never be able to understand. He looked into Alexandra’s eyes, took her right hand in his. He dropped to one knee and watched her face flush and her breathing become deeper and quicker.

“Alexandra Abramovna Tarasova,” he said, his voice quavering a little. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife. I find that I cannot live without you.”

Despite the amount of manipulating, maneuvering, hoping, and planning, she and her mother have done; Alexandra was still somewhat taken aback at how rapidly the progress to this point had happened. She paused for only a minute.

“Oh, yes…yes!” she whispered softly and intensely.

He swept her up in his arms and hugged her until she gasped for breath.

“Sorry,” he said. “I am just so excited.”

“You have to talk to my father, you know.”

“Of course. I will do it before dinner tonight. Do think he will give us his blessing?”

“I know he will or else he will be sleeping in the servants’ quarters for the next month.”

They both laughed and then kissed passionately, sealing the engagement so far as they were concerned.

Boris showered, trimmed his beard, polished his boots, and put on his dress uniform. He asked the major domo to request a meeting with Abram before dinner.

An hour before the family was to be seated at the family’s long table, Boris took a seat across from Abram who was dressed equally formally and sat in authoritative stiffness behind his desk.

“Prince Boris, my man said you wanted to meet with me before dinner. Please tell me what is on your mind.”

Boris determined not to stammer or to allow his voice to crack, “Sir, I have come to ask your blessing on my engagement to your daughter Alexandra Abramovna. I have asked her, and she has consented.”

Abram smiled, “So, I am just a formality, then Prince?”

“Most definitely not. You and your entire family have treated me as a member of the Tarasovas. I would be most disheartened if you were not to approve, but I would abide by your decision. Furthermore, I am new to the oblast, but I have means at my disposal to join you in business–if that becomes agreeable to you–as well. I can think of no way better to weld a union of marriage than for us also to be partners in commerce. I would be everyone’s fool if I were to think of you or to treat you as anything less than I would my father, and I assure you that my allegiance to him is very much more than a mere formality.”

“You could not have expressed it better, Boris. Of course, you have my blessing. For one thing I would fear being shot by any one of several women if I refused. Welcome to the family, my son. Tonight, let’s feast and toast to the engagement. The women will plan the wedding itself. But the two of us can begin looking into having you join our growing commercial empire.”

“That sounds like the best of all worlds to me. I guarantee that I will treat Alexandra as a princess, and you and your wife as king and queen. I also pledge to do all I can to further the Tarasova company.”

“The Jardine, Matheson, Tarasova, Yusupov business empire which will end up victorious over the British East India Company!”

Abram reached for his decanter of thirty-year-old Macallan Select Oak single malt whiskey and offered Boris two fingers of the precious amber liquid. He poured himself a glass; they touched glasses, and Abram said, “K dolgoy zhizni i uspekhu [to long life and success].”

Abram summoned Irina and Alexandra to join him and Boris.

He said, “A parade of eligible young men have been sniffing around Alexandra since she was twelve…”

“Daddy!” Alexandra yelped.

“Sorry, Dorogoy, I have spent too much time around the rough men in the warehouse and on the ships. You are my dear one; and I will try to speak more like a gentleman, especially around our prince.”

His smile belied his sincerity, and all of them laughed.

“What I was trying to say, is that Boris is the finest of the lot. He wants to marry you. Your mother wants him to marry you; and I want him to marry you. My two boys are too young to join the business, and we need a good, smart, strong man—a man who is part of the family—that we can trust and rely on to join our family in all ways. With your permission, I am going to propose a business arrangement that will bind us together and make us prosper beyond our previous imaginations.”

He paused to wait for the affect that his statement would have. The usually unflappable Irina gave her approval with a slight nod of her head.

Alexandra spoke softly and enunciated clearly to be sure that she did not betray her rising excitement for the events of the day, past, present, and future, “Although I am supposed to be the blushing bride with air in her head, I want you to know that I have given a great deal of thought to the matters of business. I love Boris and want to be his wife. I would accept an arrangement in which he had nothing to do with the business if that is what you or he would want. I look at the arrangement–the business arrangement—with caution as I always do with matters of business, just as you have always taught me…I approve heartily…with all of my heart!”

Boris said, “And so do I. I will make my contribution, and I pledge my loyalty and to this fine woman who has consented to have me as her husband and to each of you for accepting me without reservation as a member of the family. I am certain that none of us will regret this decision made on this extremely important day.”

At dinner, Alexandra made the announcement about the engagement which was received with cries of ‘congratulations!’ ‘great choice!’ ‘to your success!’ ‘bol’shoye schast’ye [great happiness]!’ By mutual decision, Abram, Boris, Irina, and Alexandra, did not bring up the subject of any business arrangements.

The following morning, Boris sent a telegram to his mother—the first communication since he arrived in Vladivostok. He did not include his name in deference to his agreement with his parents.

“Mother, I am well and prospering. Stop. I have a great business opportunity. Stop. Please release the sum of four million (4,000,000) roubles (silver based) from my trust. Stop. It can be sent to the Irkutsk Oblast Bank. Stop. Thank you. Stop. Your loving son.”