Chapter Eighteen
Anastasia and Maria
Imperial House, Tobolsk, Russia
This place, thought Tatiana, Empress of all the Russias, etc., looking around at the walls and bookshelves of her father’s old office, may not be the home we were born to, but it’s more home-like than perhaps any place I’ve ever lived before. If we win the war, I think I’m going to have someplace like this built, and just use the palaces for official functions.
But, for now, business.
She forced her hands to lie still in her lap, instead of twisting fretfully as they wanted to do.
You know, I think I might be more scared of this conversation than I was before the battle. Sergeant Panfil was right. During the battle, I was too busy to be scared. Now . . . I can only wait.
That thought made her turn and look out the window at the slowly thawing landscape. For just a moment, she felt again the sickening ripple inside her belly and chest from the impact of the enemy’s shells nearby.
All right, all RIGHT; so Daniil wasn’t wrong in both thinking it the dumbest thing he’d ever seen or heard of and then chewing me out over it. All-bloody-RIGHT!
A door opened, and a slight cough recalled her to the present. She turned to see Maria slipping through the door, Anastasia close on her heels. Tatiana summoned up a smile for her sisters and beckoned them forward to her little table.
“Your Imperial Majesty,” Maria said. She stopped short of the table and sank into the perfect curtsey that Tatiana knew she’d practiced for hours back in Tsarskoye-Selo. Tatiana knew that, because she’d been right there beside her sister. Practicing the same technique, over and over until her legs ached.
And for what? Some archaic gesture of respect and adherence to rigid protocol that . . . in the end . . . didn’t matter at all?
“Rise, Maria, Anastasia. Please. There’s no need for this kind of formality when it’s just us. You know that.”
Anastasia, who’d followed her older sister’s lead, straightened right away, but Maria remained where she was for another heartbeat. When she did rise, Tatiana couldn’t miss the soft sigh of disappointment her middle sister let out.
“Maria?”
Maria glanced up to meet her sister’s eyes for just a moment before looking away.
“Sister, what’s wrong?”
“It’s just that . . . we’ve lost so much. Mother, Father, Alexei, Olga . . . our whole life, Tatiana! It’s all gone. So different from before. I just wish . . . I miss . . .”
Antastasia stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Maria in a hug. Tatiana leaned forward, started to stand, but Maria patted Anastasia’s arms and stepped away.
“Forgive me, sister,” Maria said. “You wanted to see us.”
“There is nothing to forgive, dearest,” Tatiana said. “I miss them too.”
“We all do,” Anastasia put in, and rather than rebuking her for interrupting, Tatiana merely nodded.
“I know,” Maria said. “Just as I know that we are fighting—you are fighting to regain some of what we lost. It’s just that, even the little things matter sometimes. The courtesies, the flourishes that I never even noticed when we were little. They now feel like a distant dream of home.”
In the back corner of her mind, a tiny, dry voice pointed out that when they were little, their parents had placed them on a strictly disciplined regimen—at least for royal children. They’d made their own beds and mended their own clothes, so she wasn’t entirely sure what fantasy past Maria had built up in her head . . . but in the end, it didn’t matter.
It didn’t change what Tatiana had to say, or what she needed her sisters to do.
“Please join me,” she said, gesturing to the unoccupied chairs at the table. “We have things to discuss.”
While Maria and Anastasia arranged themselves at the table, Tatiana took a moment to pour tea for all of them and consider how to begin. She took a deep breath, set the teapot down, picked up her own cup and sat back in her chair.
“I’ve had word from Britain,” she said. “Our Grandmama, Maria Feodorovna, has been recovered safely from Crimea by the British Navy, and at my request, intends to establish a residence in London—”
“Oh, that’s good!” Anastasia said, and then fell silent as both of her sisters looked a rebuke at her for the interruption. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but it is good, isn’t it? At least she won’t be in danger of being captured like poor Aunt Ella!”
“Yes,” Tatiana said, “She is safe, and that is good. But that is not the only reason I wish her to remain in London. I asked her to set up a residence there so that her household may support you both when you go.”
Maria, who had been looking down into her tea with a dejected slump to her shoulders, suddenly straightened. Her blue eyes sparkled with interest.
“Go? To London?”
“Yes,” Tatiana said. “Our cousin the King has offered, and I have accepted on your behalf. You and Anastasia will journey there as soon as travel can be arranged. Perhaps via the United States. It will be longer, but the trip may be safer . . . in any case, it has become apparent that despite our troubles here at home, Russia cannot remain sequestered from the world stage for much longer. We must cultivate and strengthen the international friendships we have, and perhaps seek to make new ones. There are many ways of doing this, of course, but as Grand Duchesses, you are both ideally placed for one particular and time-honored method.”
“Marriage,” Maria breathed.
Anastasia wrinkled her nose and flinched. “Marriage? Tatiana, really? We’re still so young—”
“Not so young as all that!” Maria snapped. “And if we can help our sister and Empress in this manner, then our duty is clear!”
Tatiana raised a purely mental eyebrow, And it’s not like you would be all that upset to have a man, and all that . . . ummm . . . comes with one of your own, would you, sister, dear?
She set down her teacup and reached out to take both of her sisters’ hands. “Understand me, sisters,” she said softly. “I love you both with my whole heart. I may be your Empress, but I will never compel you to marry where your heart does not lie. Your happiness is as important to me as my own. I have made no arrangements other than for you to visit. I would just like you to . . . see. Go to London. Be feted and celebrated for the beautiful survivors that you are. Tell our story, for ultimately, it may sway others to our cause.
“And if you should happen to fall in love with a handsome prince . . .” Tatiana trailed off and allowed herself a slightly conspiratorial smile and a wink as she used to do back in their carefree days as children. “Well. Then we shall go on from there.”
A slow smile spread across Maria’s face, lighting her up and bringing back the radiant beauty she’d been praised for as a child. She squeezed Tatiana’s hand and the Empress found herself blinking back sudden tears.
She hadn’t seen joy like that in Maria since Papa’s abdication. It seemed a lifetime ago.
Tatiana squeezed her sisters’ hands once more before letting go. “As I said,” she went on, picking up her teacup again. “We are still making arrangements, but I would like you both to begin preparations. Grandmama will be an invaluable guide to you during this process. Follow her instructions as you would mine. You must make no promises without her assent. She will correspond with me and ensure that the actions you take are favorable to our interests.”
Maria, still smiling, set down her teacup and stood. She leaned forward to press a soft kiss to Tatiana’s cheek.
“I will not fail you,” she whispered, and then straightened and, eyes dancing in something a little like mischief, sank into a curtsey once again. Tatiana found herself so cheered by her sister’s joy that she actually laughed.
“Come, Anastasia,” Maria said as she straightened. “We have much to do.”
“You do,” Tatiana said. “But I must speak with Anastasia a moment longer. I will send her to you directly. You are free to go, Maria.”
Anastasia, who had been about to follow Maria out, froze and turned back. Tatiana lifted her teacup to hide the smile that threatened to peek out. Judging by the stiffness of her limbs and the narrowing of her eyes, Anastasia expected a reprimand—likely about her habit of interrupting—and was feeling mulish about it. When Maria swept past their youngest sister with a self-righteous sideways glance, Tatiana barely held back the giggles that threatened to shatter her composure.
“Yes, Tatiana?” Anastasia asked, her tone civil . . . barely.
“Come sit back down, shvibzik. I have a few other things to say to you.”
“I already apologized—”
“This is not about your interruption, although you do need to stop doing that. In private I care less, of course, but . . .”
Antastasia let out a delicate snort as she returned to her chair. “I know better than to interrupt you in public, whatever Maria thinks!”
“Does she scold you often?”
“Constantly. You tell me that you prefer the informality of sisters, and so I use your Christian name in private as you’ve requested. But she seems to think that now that you are Tsarina, we must be as formal in private as we were at your coronation!”
“She is grieving,” Tatiana said, her voice gentle.
“So am I, but you don’t see me trying to recreate Tsarskoye-Selo here in Tobolsk!” Anastasia sat back and crossed her arms over her chest, looking disgusted as only a teenaged girl can.
“And that is why we are having this conversation.” Tatiana let her voice go from soft to steely, and straightened her spine as she set down her tea again.
“Anastasia Nicolaevna, you are my sister and I will always love you as my sister. But right now I must speak to you not as sister to sister, but as Tsarina to subject.
“No, not subject. Heir.”
Anastasia’s eyes widened, and her arms dropped slowly down to her sides. She, too, sat up straight, albeit slowly.
“Your Imperial Majesty . . .”
“For now, at least,” Tatiana went on as if the girl hadn’t spoken. “I hope that in time I shall secure my own successor, but my marriage will be an even more political and delicate matter than Maria’s or yours. And with the war . . . well. We simply do not have time. So I must name one of you the Tsarevna.”
“But Maria is older.”
“Yes,” Tatiana said. “But Maria grieves our parents too much to see the folly of their ways. I love her with all my heart, but she would be a disaster for Russia. You . . . I still have hope for you.”
Anastasia’s brow furrowed, and Tatiana stifled the urge to smirk as her younger sister puzzled her way through such a backhanded statement.
“So you will go with Maria to London, but I do not think you will stay there long. I spoke truly. I will never compel either of you to marry where your heart does not lie. But I must and will prevent both of you from marrying if the match will be a detriment to our cause. So while I quietly hope that Maria marries into a royal family . . . you must not. Or at the very least, if you feel an attachment to someone, he must be willing and able to forsake his native land to come to Russia as your consort if need be.”
Anastasia swallowed and nodded, her face pale. “I—I do not think I will find someone,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “I am only seventeen.”
“Grandmama was only nineteen when she married our grandfather,” Tatiana said. “But I agree, you must take your time. Maria’s objective is marriage. Yours is to remain safe, and to observe and learn, and prepare yourself. For even if I survive long enough to marry and produce my own heirs, you will forever be a mainstay of this court. I do not see how I could bear to lose you both to foreign marriages . . .” She trailed off and blinked furiously as the dratted tears threatened again.
Anastasia reached out and took both of Tatiana’s hands in her own. “I won’t leave you,” she promised. Tatiana smiled and shook her head.
“You will,” she said. “You must, for all the reasons I’ve stated. But you will come back, either as my heir or my close advisor. Heed what I told Maria, and follow Grandmama’s instructions. She knows of my plans for you. Maria . . . does not. Yet.”
Anastasia nodded.
Tatiana let out a sigh. “You have been our shvibzik, and the source of much joy, littlest one. But I am afraid that you are about to have to grow up very quickly. I fear it will be quite difficult at times.”
“You did it. You had to grow up quickly when you became Tsarina. Before that, even,” Anastasia protested.
“That is how I know, dear one. That is how I know.”