On the ground floor of the main house were a hall and formal reception rooms, and on the floor above were Chakrabongse and Katya’s private suite, and a smaller dining-room, where they breakfasted and lunched when alone. High up beneath the roof was a traditional Shrine-Room, where among the many Buddha images, were also housed relics and the ashes of deceased ancestors in miniature bejewelled gold cremation urns. These relics were honoured and remembered with ceremony on the anniversary of death, and respects paid on leaving on or returning from a journey. To this day, most houses feature such shrine rooms in which devout Buddhists pray and prostrate themselves and offer fresh flowers daily.
Almost two hundred people lived in the compound, composed of roughly one hundred grown-ups and children and one hundred servants. Among the adults were many who had mysteriously become part of the household so long ago that no one could remember exactly how they came to be there. This state of affairs may have reminded Katya of her homeland, for as Princess Stephanie Dolgorouky wrote in her memoirs: ‘The English week-end invitation for a short stay is unknown in Russia, where guests in country-houses especially, not infrequently remain for years. They sometimes bring with them members of the family and occasionally it happens they remain for the rest of their lives …’
Children living under this hospitable roof were either orphans or offspring from one of the many large families of royal relatives, happy to have a son or daughter brought-up or even actually adopted by a prince of the first rank such as Chakrabongse – a common custom in Siamese princely families. Thus Katya reported to her brother about her various adopted children:
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and added that she teased her husband on this score:
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Outside there was garaging for eight cars and stabling for six horses that included Chakrabongse’s Russian charger Ramushka, whom he had always ridden in the Hussars. This gallant old friend, to whom he was devoted was to be his mount at most official parades and lived to the advanced age of thirty-three.
From one of Katya’s lengthy letters to her brother, written almost immediately after her arrival and dated 18-31 April 1906, it is clear she lost no time in settling down, and taking the measure of her life. Dealing briskly with Ivan’s reproaches for not writing from Singapore ‘because I could have written only sad letters from there’, she continued:
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