The Secret Wife(29)
Dmitri did not expect his letter to have any effect – he had little faith in his Tsar’s perspicacity – but perhaps the man had more of an inkling of the state of the nation than he revealed, because he replied by return that Dmitri should travel to Tsarskoe Selo post-haste to take a place in the royal escort. He added: ‘I know that you are a good and true friend to my family, and trust you will report to me directly any concerns you might have.’
Dmitri packed his kit and caught the first train for St Petersburg, arriving on the 7th of January, the Russian Orthodox Christmas. He travelled on to the Alexander Palace at Tsarskoe Selo and before even going to his quarters he asked the butler to deliver a note requesting that Tatiana come down to the side entrance.
He had been waiting just ten minutes, shivering in the brutal cold, when Tatiana appeared in a thin gown. She gave a little cry when she saw him and hurled herself into his arms. ‘For the rest of my life, no Christmas gift will ever mean as much as this.’
Dmitri opened his coat and wrapped it tightly around them both so their bodies were pressed together for warmth. He vowed, silently, that as long as he had breath in his lungs he would not let anyone harm a hair on her head. If necessary, he would lay down his life to protect her.
Chapter Seventeen
Tsarskoe Selo, Russia, February 1917
Tsar Nicholas stayed in the Alexander Palace at Tsarskoe Selo for two months after the murder of Rasputin, making plans for a spring offensive against the Germans. The billiard room was covered in maps marked with a profusion of arrows, crosses and scribbles, which he pored over night and day. Dmitri thought he was deluded to imagine he was capable of planning such a campaign. Did he have any idea that levels of desertion from the Russian army were rising daily and that there was a growing threat of all-out mutiny? Like them, he had no faith in his Tsar’s abilities as a commander and wished he would hand over the reins to one of his experienced generals. Nicholas sometimes acknowledged him with a quick nod when they passed in a corridor, but never spoke to him, and Dmitri wasn’t sure that he knew who he was.
For six blissful weeks he was able to see Tatiana every day. She was hard at work in the hospital while he had many duties as a member of the royal escort but they sought each other during breaks, when they would talk and play with Ortipo, just as in the old days. He teased her that her training of her pet had been so lax that when they went for walks, Ortipo chose the route; that when she threw a ball for her, she invariably ended up fetching it herself. Ortipo was the boss.
In the evenings he sometimes joined her in the wards to listen to a group of Romanian musicians who had been hired to play chamber music to the patients, and they sat close, not quite touching. Dmitri felt the air between them charged with the delicious secret that they were man and wife. He heard Volodya had been transferred elsewhere to convalesce and was relieved not to come face to face with his erstwhile rival.
Tatiana had no inkling of life outside the palace and Dmitri decided not to enlighten her. It would cause her distress to no purpose because she could not solve the country’s economic problems. For ordinary Russians bread was scarce, meat unheard of, and prices in the few shops that still stocked food were sky-high. Her father had outlawed the production and sale of vodka at the outbreak of war and men were brewing home-made versions that made them wild drunk and uncontrollable. Ugly mobs burnt pictures of her parents in the streets and cartoons in the press showed the Tsar and Tsarina eating meals of caviar and lobster or lighting cigarettes with hundred-rouble notes while their people starved. Tatiana would have been baffled and greatly upset had she seen them.
The mood of the public was the foremost worry preying on Dmitri’s mind until in mid February, Tatiana came to tell him that both Olga and Alexei had succumbed to fever and hacking coughs and the doctor had diagnosed measles.
‘Poor little Alexei,’ she sighed. ‘He so wanted to return to Mogilev with Papa. I think the men there are very kind to him.’
‘You will stay away from the sick room, won’t you?’ Dmitri urged. ‘I don’t want you to catch it.’
‘Mama is nursing them as she has already had measles and I don’t think you can catch it twice. I have moved into Maria and Anastasia’s room.’
That evening, Dmitri thought Tatiana looked a little flushed as she went about her duties in the hospital. ‘Do wrap up warmly for your journey back to the palace,’ he cautioned, but it was too late: the following morning his fears were confirmed when her ladies’ maid, Trina, came to tell him Tatiana too had fallen ill. She sent a quick note but her handwriting was scrawled and quite unlike its normal copperplate: ‘I pray I have not passed the sickness to you, my darling. This really is the most horrid affliction. Forgive me that I do not feel sufficiently well to write more.’
Dmitri sent her a note with an early snowdrop pressed between the pages, saying that he was sure she would still look dazzling, even when covered in spots. There was no reply and within days Trina brought news that the illness had worsened. Tatiana developed abscesses in her ears that made her deaf and the doctor was concerned her hearing might be permanently affected. It was agony for Dmitri to think of her suffering. If only it were possible, he would have taken the measles upon himself to spare her; he had already had a dose as a child and did not suffer too badly. Trina told him that Tatiana’s beautiful auburn hair had been cut short to quell the fever, and he begged for a lock. When she brought one he slipped it under his pillow and every night he stroked the soft hair across his cheek and in his head he whispered words of love to his secret wife. He pined for her.