After its much accompanied cruise through Third Avenue, the escort reached a small red-brick building with a metal framed facade. Its large glass windows shone in the afternoon sun, as if they were beacons attracting patrons to the infamous American restaurant. In gold-painted letters engraved into the top of the metal facade, the name P.J Clarke's could be seen. The drivers stopped their vehicles to allow their prestigious passengers, the Romanovs and Wilsons, to step out. The few Romanovs that had come numbered just seven: Marie Feodorovna, Dmitri Pavlovich, Maria Pavlovna, and the Romanov daughters.
"I'll be honest with you, Your Majesty. This is a special place of genuine American cuisine… the one and only P.J Clarke's. It has been serving their meals since 1884, almost half a century," the American president said, looking back with a smile.
"It may not look like much, but you will enjoy this tasteful introduction to America," Margaret Wilson said, giving the Russian Tsarina a sly smile.
Olga laughed. "That was a funny pun, Miss Margaret. I am certain that my fiance would find that funny as well..."
Dmitri Pavlovich scoffed, before being elbowed by Olga. The Grand Duke had a sense of humor, but it was not focused on cheap puns. He looked at Margaret Wilson with a forced smile, as upsetting the American presidential family was not a desired outcome for him.
"I know that you are not actually amused, Mister Pavlovich. There is no need to smile," Margaret said, with an intense stare from her brown eyes.
"I can see that you have been told off," Maria Pavlovna whispered to her brother, holding back a snicker.
The Russian Grand Duke was speechless. His mouth was open, but no words escaped it. He had always prided himself as a master of good or even attractive appearances, but this American woman had read him through his outside act. Nor did she seem to fall for his masculine charms- well, he did not exert enough effort. Perhaps he would find a way to get even with this upstart woman. This would truly be a notable clash of wills and minds.
"You win this round, Miss Margaret Wilson… but no one ever manages to beat me," he thought, as his mouth bent in a very slight smile, almost unseeable to the untrained eye.
As soon as the Wilsons and Romanovs stepped through the double doors, the waiters made welcoming bows to their special patrons. The waiters stepped aside to allow the restaurant owner to step forward. He was none other than Patrick J. Clarke, owner of one of the more prominent New York City restaurants.
"Thank you, Mister Clarke, for accepting the arrangements. All of the planning has very much paid off," Woodrow Wilson said, looking at the fresh food on the tables.
"I am very honored to have you, Mister President, here… with your family and the Romanovs here. I do hope that all of you will enjoy whatever my establishment has to offer!" the owner said, widely grinning with his well-cleaned teeth.
"Very well, Mister Clarke," the president said.
Patrick nodded, allowing his customers to find and take seats with the assistance of the waiters. The Romanov siblings sat with the Dowager Empress and the few servants. Around the adjacent table, the Wilsons sat across from Olga and Dmitri of Russia. Olga smiled. The glasses had been filled with aged Spanish wine or iced tea. The plates had varieties of sandwiches, burgers, and salads all freshly made. At least the Americans had planned this entire arrangement well, she thought.
Olga disagreed with the more casual attitudes of the Americans about drinking alcoholic beverages. Despite the gap in cultural norms, she would have to tolerate their customs for the time being. Again, she still respected the Americans for their determination to improve their nation with bounds and leaps. Their cause, providing a fair republic where everyone can prosper, was a noble one.
She picked up the burger with both hands, taking a small bite. For the first sandwich she had, it was definitely noteworthy. The meat had been well-cooked to medium rare, with the bread buns toasted to a crisp light brown. As the finishing touch, there was melted American cheese and certain vegetables in it.
"This is a very filling and delicious dish, Cousin Olishka," Dmitri Pavlovich spoke.
"Definitely it is. The beef is very well cooked," Olga replied.
The future royal couple of Russia had lunch with the presidential family, and they soon began to converse. President Wilson began to talk of his childhood in Georgia, and Olga became interested. She gently tilted her head to one side, gazing with her eager blue eyes. Her interest only grew when he mentioned his higher education in Davidson College and Princeton University. It pleased her to know that the president was not just well educated, but a sincere and devout man.
"A member of the Phi Kappa Psi… is that a sort of social circle for students?" she asked.
"Yes, I remember much about it. Think of it as the academic elite all joined in an organized circle for the sake of their excellence. That is the best I can explain that and my younger years. Now, I am curious as to how you grew up with your late parents," Wilson said.
Olga remained silent for a moment. President Woodrow Wilson wore an expression of concern, wrinkling his forehead.
"You do not have to speak of the subject, Your Majesty, if it is uncomfortable to mention."
"Not at all, I am conflicted over what to mention first."
After Wilson drank from his cup of tea, he spoke again. "Perhaps you may speak of your childhood teachers?"
"Well, I could mention my private tutoring in the English and French languages. My sisters and I all had the same two tutors: Mister Gibbs and Mister Pierre."
"Ah, the languages of Great Britain, and of romance, respectively."
Dmitri Pavlovich sipped from his cup of tea, giving Olga an amused smile. "Do not forget to mention me."
"You may sometimes be an annoyance, but I cannot imagine a life without you as a fellow Romanov," Olga said.
Margaret Wilson chuckled. Dmitri raised an eyebrow, as if to dare the eldest Wilson daughter to challenge him further. She responded by crossing her arms and shrugging. Then Woodrow Wilson whispered a rebuke into the ear of his eldest daughter. She stopped crossing her arms, and feigned a smile. Still, she secretly disliked the Grand Duke. For the rest of the visit, she would have to place her feelings aside.
"Go on, Your Majesty," the president said.
"Oh, where do I start? There are many subjects I would enjoy speaking about… well, I could speak about my tutors. They are on a hiatus from tutoring my sisters, and are staying back in Russia. I am certain that they are men of good character, President Wilson."
"I would like to hear of them."
"The first one that comes to my mind is my English tutor, Sidney Gibbs. I found him as a very educated and genteel man, and he even helped with my political education along with my father. I remember reading The Prince,and even some of the writings of John Locke. My father was reluctant to give me writings about certain concepts… social contract and other things, but I was adamant about that. Either I would get a book I wanted to read, or I would nag him until I did…"
Dmitri listened to his fiance chat with the American president of her childhood, excluding the Livadia Palace Raid of 1912. She spoke instead of her happiest memories with her sisters, such as their summer trips to the Crimea. She also spoke of her tutors and governesses: Mister Pierre, Mister Gillard, Miss Demidova, and Miss Shura, her childhood supervisor. After she finished, Wilson nodded, and then rested his chin on his hands, deep in thought.
"A very different upbringing than mine, but interesting to hear. Were you close with your relatives besides your parents?" Wilson said.
"Absolutely, President Wilson," Olga replied.
Dmitri Pavlovich cleared his throat. "If you do not mind, Olya, may I speak of my childhood?"
Olga shook her head. "No."
"But-"
"Not yet, Mitya."
Dmitri bit back a retort. Of course not. Now was a moment for Olga. His time in the spotlight would come later. Looking at Margaret, Dmitri caught a glimpse of a smirk. This annoyed the Grand Duke. Upstart woman, he thought.
After a filling and delicious American lunch, the presidential family toured New York City with the Russian royal family. They went along the major streets of downtown New York City, viewing various landmarks. First, they viewed the infamous Wall Street, Woolworth Building, and other prominent landmarks such as the Flatiron building, the first skyscraper. They then drove by Central Park. There, journalists, photographers, and the park goers crowded near the Romanovs and their entourage just to see them.
"Oh, my! We are certainly receiving plenty of attention," Margaret exclaimed, looking around with wide brown eyes.
"Do not worry, they are only excited to see the Russians. I know that they think differently than us, but we must respect them in order for our great nation, America, to prosper in trade."
"What about the lower, working class citizens? Would they still approve of their visit?"
"Daughter, I made sure beforehand that most Americans from all classes would approve of the visit. Random polls were made throughout every major city in the country, from the Eastern Seaboard here to the West. Around seventy percent approved."
Satisfied with her answer, Margaret nodded. "I see, Father. I must be honest, the Russian Empress strikes me as older than her years. To be only twenty-one… and rule an entire empire… seems strange to me."
"I know, daughter, but we cannot expect other nations to work the same as ours. It is a matter of culture and traditions, perhaps even older than ours."
Within the car behind the presidential vehicle, Anastasia sat beside Maria and her much adored kitchen servant. The comfortable seats and the company of her closest sister allowed her to feel at ease. If not for the hot weather, she would have been more content. Anastasia fanned herself with a large hat, wondering when they would be given a place to stay.
"It is too warm here!" Maria said, fanning herself with her own hat.
"You may have to endure this for another few hours, Mashka," Anastasia said, smiling.
Maria groaned, closing her eyes. Dmitri, the kitchen servant, chuckled.
"Try not to move, moving yourself only makes you feel hotter," Dmitri suggested.
"Mister Ivanov is right, little sister," Olga said, looking back from the front passenger seat.
The escort soon drove over the Brooklyn Bridge, and the Russian Royals were fascinated even more. The Americans were quite advanced for a new country, with large feats of infrastructure such as that suspension bridge. Nowhere in Russia did such types of bridges exist.
The escort drove on various highways, passing various towns around New York City. Soon, the beginning urban sprawl gave way to rural grasslands and forests. They then stopped at Philadelphia, where the famous Independence Hall stood. After the cars were refueled, it was the next stop for the Romanovs. It was a Georgian-style building made of red brick and white painted columns. Its bell tower towered a story or two above the main building, making it appear outstanding. Olga looked at the building with a solemn gaze, her eyes distant in thought.
The Russian Empress had read some books about the strange, captivating land of America during her childhood. She remembered one thing about the building in front of her: it was where the original founders of America had signed the Declaration of Independence from Britain. Also, those men long ago had created the American Constitution there. It was only appropriate to call the building the birthplace of the United States of America. There, the fire of western democracy had been lit.
Olga, being an autocrat, disagreed with some ideas such as "power to the people", but she admired the American ideals of fairness and giving the people a say. She had allowed public polls back in Russia to know the needs of her people. The Okhrana also gave her valuable information about the security of Russia. She could not imagine reinstating the Duma yet, but she still considered doing so.
Few citizens had gone outside in the warm weather, preferring to stay indoors. This allowed the Romanovs and the presidential family to both visit the Independence Hall. They saw the room where the American Constitution had been signed, with its long table and old wooden chairs sitting dormant. All of the Romanovs kept silent as they toured the historical building, which almost seemed like a sacred cathedral.
At last, Olga and Dmitri Pavlovich spotted a large bell with dark green tarnish. She widened her eyes. It was the infamous Liberty Bell that had rung for the public reading of the Declaration of Independence.
"Here it is, Your Majesty. The symbol of what we fight for," Wilson said, in a hushed tone, as his family and guards put their hands together in respect for the Bell.
"I know that our nations are very different, but I respect your traditions as you have respected mine. My people are traditional, strong, and patriotic… much like yours, President Wilson. I believe that our great nations can find friendship and strength together," Olga spoke, smiling at the president.
"I admire America very much like Olga does. To have so many different peoples in these borders, yet so unified!" Dmitri Pavlovich exclaimed.
The American President smiled back. "America is like a wondrous party, my Russian friends, where all can partake in the fruits of freedom, liberty, and justice. We may have room for improvements for our great society, but there is always hope ahead."
Wilson turned back to the aging Dowager Empress. "And you, Your Imperial Highness, are very much respected in my eyes. You were beloved by your people, and I have heard that you attempted to stand up for the protestors in Russia?"
"Oh… I remember doing so long ago. My late husband Alexander III was very strict in his family and reign. And, I was his very opposite in some aspects. I was more lenient and open to my people. Now the torch has been passed to my eldest granddaughter, and I am proud of her," the Dowager Empress spoke, her tone soft.
"For good reason. She is truly a star of the north, as Voltaire once said of Catherine the Great."
Olga giggled with joy and slight embarrassment. "I am only a simple woman serving her homeland and her people, Mister President."
"Humble in heart and well-rounded in mind. I recall that the Apostle Paul was an educated man of his time, and lived humbly. You slightly remind me of him," the American President replied.
"He is one of my favorite saints along with St. Olga of Kiev."
"Interesting, but I think that we may save this conversation for another time in Washington D.C."
"That is fine, I am looking forward to our negotiations there."
"Trust my word, you will not be disappointed," Woodrow Wilson said, chuckling.
A.N: I have actually been to the Independence Hall almost three years ago, and it was a good experience of history. Writing this chapter really took me back! For Woodrow Wilson, I believe that he would make a good ally for Olga I of Russia. Both of them are more progressive or liberal in their thinking, so I believe that they would make a good team. By the way, I originally planned to have the trade negotiations here, but I did not want to overwhelm you all with a bunch of different events. The next chapter will have that event, along with more Dmitri Pavlovich versus Margaret Wilson moments!