The Secret Wife(31)
During the morning of the 8th of March a delegation arrived from the provisional government. Dmitri recognised the politician Alexander Kerensky among them and was faintly reassured; he had seemed a moderate influence in the Duma. They marched briskly into the palace and were occupied inside for several hours. Dmitri watched the entrance, scarcely daring to breathe. Was Kerensky telling the family what their fate was to be? Was Tatiana well enough to attend the meeting? He glanced up at her bedroom but the curtains were drawn.
At noon their captain called them for orders. ‘We must leave the palace this afternoon,’ he said, eyes downcast and the words sticking in his throat. There was a chorus of disbelief as he continued: ‘The 1st Rifles will replace us. They are in town this very moment and due here imminently.’
Dmitri felt sick to the pit of his stomach. The 1st Rifles had vowed allegiance to the revolutionary government.
‘The Tsarina asks that we go peacefully and refrain from any action that might delay the Tsar’s arrival and affect the fate of her children.’
He passed round some small jewelled icons of the Holy Mother that Alexandra had given him for all the men of the escort who had served so faithfully.
Dmitri fingered his icon, fluttery panic in his chest. What should he do? He couldn’t bear to leave the palace. It was insufferable to be so powerless. He considered hiding somewhere in the building so as to remain close to Tatiana, but knew he would be arrested if he were discovered. Instead he sought Trina, the ladies’ maid, to ask for news of Tatiana’s health. He hoped it might be possible to see her, to explain that he must leave but would remain nearby.
‘She still cannot receive visitors,’ Trina told him. ‘But I have been given a pass to get in and out of the palace. If you like I can meet you and convey letters between you.’
Dmitri arranged that he would meet her at a side entrance every morning then, with feet dragging, he went to his quarters, took off his imperial guard’s uniform and changed into civilian clothes, packed his knapsack and wandered out into the grounds.
He gazed up at Tatiana’s window, willing her to look out. He yearned to see her, both to reassure her and to reassure himself. Who knew how long before they would be reunited, or under what circumstances? Walking out the palace gates and away from her felt wrong, as if he was wrenching off a limb.
Chapter Eighteen
Tsarskoe Selo, Russia, March 1917
The vitriol directed against the Romanovs in Tsarskoe Selo was staggering. Everywhere Dmitri went, townsfolk gossiped about Alexandra’s supposed promiscuity, speculated that Alexei was not the Tsar’s son, and even cast aspersions that the grand duchesses took lovers amongst the palace staff. It was hard not to lose his temper and lash out, but he restrained himself and occupied his time writing to old friends from the imperial guard, men such as Malevich, whom he knew would be loyal to the Romanovs. Surely together they could find a way to help them? In public, he was careful not to identify himself as a scion of the family, because the mood was so ugly he could have been attacked by a mob. He saw one aristocrat fleeing on foot after his carriage was overturned.
Every day, Dmitri scanned the newspapers, trying to work out, like other Russians, who would be their new leader. Prince George Lvov seemed the current face of the provisional government but a council in St Petersburg, the Petrograd Soviet of Workers’ and Soldiers’ Deputies, was increasingly influential, and more soviets were springing up around the nation. The stridency of their pronouncements alarmed Dmitri: what Russia needed more than anything was a wise leader who could get food to the people and quell the urge to blame all the country’s ills on one absurdly wealthy family.
Tatiana was slowly recovering from her illness and, judging by her letters, seemed to have no idea of the danger the family faced.
My dearest love, I wish we could meet but at the same time I am far too vain to allow you to see me like this. You will be shocked to learn that my remaining hair has been falling out in clumps and I must wear a headscarf to cover the bald patches. I know how you loved my hair and promise I will grow it again as soon as I can! I am also much thinner but can eat solid food once more and aim to gain weight very soon … We are all in reasonable spirits. I think we are going to sail to England for a holiday with our relatives, George V and his family, until the revolution is suppressed. We are waiting to be told when a ship will arrive to collect us. I miss my work in the hospital but am occupying my time with reading and trying to stop the younger ones from arguing (a mammoth task). I miss you and wish I could be with you even for just one moment to lean my forehead against yours and see if I can read your thoughts.
Dmitri was glad she could not read his thoughts, because he couldn’t imagine how the British would simply send a ship through the Baltic, which was patrolled by German warships. Would Germany guarantee them safe passage? That would not go down well in revolutionary Russia. But in his reply he did not mention his doubts:
Now that your vanity has returned, I am reassured you will soon be yourself again … Once you sail for England, I will follow hot on your heels. Perhaps your parents will allow us to be officially wed there if the revolution is prolonged. We could buy a manor house in the countryside and keep horses and dogs. I will have to polish my English, which is nowhere near as fluent as yours, and adopt an accent that sounds like a man being strangled, such as their aristocrats use, but all in all I think it a good plan.