Several carriages already stood in the courtyard. Guests had begun arriving before sunrise.
Servants moved quickly between the house and the stables. Coachmen helped their masters from the carriages while stable boys led the horses away. The animals snorted in the cold air, and clouds of steam rose from their nostrils.
Inside the large drawing room a long table had been prepared.
Decanters of water and several bottles of wine stood on the polished surface. Silver trays with light food had been placed along the table. A fire burned in the fireplace, slowly warming the room.
Today's gathering was not an official meeting.
There were no written invitations. No formal protocol.
But everyone understood that the discussion would be serious.
The first to arrive was Lizogub.
His carriage stopped at the front steps, and within moments he was already climbing the stairs.
—"Pavlo Petrovych."
—"I'm glad to see you."
They shook hands.
Lizogub removed his gloves and glanced around the room.
—"I hear you have begun industrial work in Kremenchuk."
Skoropadskyi nodded.
—"We have started building a flour mill."
Lizogub smiled slightly.
—"Then the rumors were not exaggerated."
He walked toward the window and looked out into the courtyard.
—"They say engineers have already arrived from Kharkiv."
—"Yes."
—"And the machinery?"
—"Part of it has already arrived. The rest is coming by rail and by river."
Lizogub nodded thoughtfully.
—"You move faster than most landowners."
Gradually more guests began to arrive.
Carriages rolled into the courtyard one after another.
The Kochubeys.
A representative of the Halahan family.
Khanenko.
Several large landowners from the neighboring provinces.
The estate became increasingly lively.
Coachmen spoke loudly near the stables. Horses stamped their hooves on the damp ground. Servants opened doors and carried coats into the house.
Some of the guests were already discussing the road.
—"The roads were difficult after the rain."
—"Autumn always makes travel slower."
—"But the harvest this year was good."
After some time everyone gathered in the drawing room.
At first the conversation revolved around familiar matters.
Harvests.
Grain prices.
Railways.
One of the nobles said:
—"They say things have become restless again in the capital after the revolution."
Another shrugged.
—"The Empire has survived worse times."
—"But the workers have become too bold."
—"That will pass."
Someone mentioned the railways.
—"Most grain shipments are now moving south."
—"Through Kremenchuk?"
—"Through Kremenchuk and Ekaterinoslav."
—"River transport is still cheaper than rail."
For a while the conversation continued in this manner.
Then someone mentioned factories.
One of the guests turned toward Skoropadskyi.
—"Pavlo Petrovych, they say you are becoming an industrialist?"
Skoropadskyi replied calmly.
—"For now we are only beginning."
An elderly nobleman sitting near the window gave a quiet snort.
—"Factories are the business of merchants."
The room grew slightly quieter.
He continued slowly:
—"The nobility has always lived from the land. Our ancestors did not build factories."
One of the younger landowners replied:
—"In Europe things are already different."
The old man looked at him.
—"Europe does many things differently."
The young noble continued:
—"In Germany aristocrats invest in industry. In Belgium metallurgical plants belong to old families."
He paused for a moment.
—"And we continue to argue about how to live only from harvests."
Several men exchanged glances.
Skoropadskyi had been listening silently.
Then he spoke.
—"The question is not what our ancestors did."
His voice remained calm.
—"The question is what is happening now."
He looked around the room.
—"If the nobility does not take part in industry, others will."
Someone asked:
—"Merchants?"
—"Merchants. Bankers. Foreign investors."
A brief silence followed.
—"And then the influence of the nobility will disappear completely."
For a moment no one spoke.
Lizogub slowly nodded.
—"In Europe this has already happened."
He looked at the others.
—"Pavlo Petrovych is right. Times have changed."
The elderly nobleman still looked dissatisfied, but he said nothing more.
Skoropadskyi continued.
—"That is why I propose we stop arguing about the past."
He paused slightly.
—"I propose we speak about the future."
Now everyone listened carefully.
—"We need capital. We need factories, railways, and engineers."
His gaze moved slowly across the room.
—"But above all we need a financial foundation."
Someone asked:
—"What do you propose?"
Skoropadskyi answered simply.
—"A bank."
The room fell silent.
Several nobles exchanged surprised glances.
Skoropadskyi continued:
—"The Industrial-Land Bank of Ukraine."
He allowed the words to settle in the room.
—"This bank will finance the construction of factories. It will provide loans to landowners. It will invest in industry."
One of the nobles asked:
—"And where will the capital come from?"
Skoropadskyi replied calmly:
—"From us."
Some of the guests smiled.
But several others looked interested.
One of the younger nobles said:
—"If the bank supports industry, it will change how people see the nobility."
—"Exactly."
Lizogub added:
—"Capital can be gathered quickly if several families unite."
The conversation became more animated.
Now they discussed practical matters.
The size of investments.
The structure of management.
Possible industrial projects.
One of the landowners asked:
—"Which industries would be built first?"
Skoropadskyi answered:
—"Grain processing. Tobacco production. Light industry."
He paused briefly.
—"And metallurgy."
Several men looked at him with surprise.
—"Where?"
—"In the region of Kryvyi Rih."
—"There is iron ore there."
—"And good railway connections."
Another noble frowned.
—"But metallurgical plants require enormous capital."
—"Which is exactly why the bank is necessary."
The discussion continued for some time.
Eventually the conversation shifted toward politics.
One of the guests said:
—"The main problem now is the revolutionaries."
Another replied:
—"No. The main problem is Germany."
—"Russia is too large to be intimidated."
Someone mentioned the Balkans.
—"It is always restless there."
—"Serbia, Austria-Hungary, Bulgaria, the Ottomans," one of the guests said.
—"The Balkans have always been the powder keg of Europe."
Skoropadskyi listened quietly.
Then he said:
—"Sometimes small conflicts turn into large wars."
One of the nobles chuckled.
—"Europe is too rational for a great war."
Skoropadskyi said nothing.
The conversation gradually began to fade.
Guests rose from the table and began discussing what they had heard among themselves.
When most of them were preparing to leave, Lizogub approached Skoropadskyi.
—"Your idea about the bank…" he said quietly.
—"Yes?"
—"I will support it."
Skoropadskyi nodded.
—"Then we begin with capital."
Lizogub smiled.
—"It seems we have a great deal of work ahead."
Outside, carriage wheels creaked again in the courtyard.
The guests departed.
The estate slowly returned to its usual silence.
But the conversation that had begun today might one day change far more than anyone in the room yet understood.