A/N: Ok, we are back to the 'present', which is a little less than a month after Henry's death. The dialogue in this chapter is italicized because the characters are technically speaking Russian, but even if I knew someone fluent enough in the language who had the time to translate all this dialogue into Russian, it would be far too tedious for you guys to read the Russian and English translations one right after another. Don't worry, we will get back to the Bennets next Friday, possibly sooner if I have a good writing week.
I want to thank everyone for the plethora of information in your reviews on Russian titles, Russian Jewish standing in society, and the history as you knew it. I love that this story is eliciting so many historical discussions. While I admire and respect the dedication to historical accuracy, and I am doing my best to write with a firm basis in historical accuracy, this story will not be completely historically accurate (or even culturally accurate in some respects). The sources I used all have different information but I truly appreciate your efforts and the information given. As the children were already speaking English to the Bennets, it made sense to me to have the children use the approximate (if not entirely accurate) English translation of their titles. I also realize that it's entirely inaccurate to have an Ephrussi noble or even any Jewish person in such high noble standing, especially in Russia, which I addressed in the last chapter, but the bottom line is that I wanted to put a Jewish Russian in a position of power and wealth, and in a position to do something positive for other Jews who, history has shown, certainly suffered from racism and bigotry due to their religion and ethnicity in Russia throughout its history and certainly under the Tsar at the time, Nicholas I. So this story might require, like many other historical fictions, a certain suspension of disbelief to enjoy the story. It is historical fiction after all, and while I greatly appreciate the information and advice, I would hate to think of that dedication to historical accuracy taking away from the enjoyment of the story. My Personal Messages are always open to you though, and I would welcome a discussion if you wanted to share history you thought was interesting or a source you found that you thought might give more insight!
Chapter 3: Tribus
18 August, 1798
Ephrussi Place, St. Petersburg
A loud, pained grunt was forced from Sophie's lungs as she was thrown back into the padded floor. Again.
"Papa, why must I go through with this...foolishness!" She cried as she scrambled up into a sitting position, her entire body throbbing with exertion from her exercise. "I am clearly no good at it. And I do not like it at all."
Nikolai, working with Papa's valet and bodyguard Ivan on the next mat over, gave her a concerned look and nearly got a blow to the stomach for his distraction.
"Focus!" Ivan insisted, and Sophie watched her brother continue his training with the towering man with both envy and no small amount of despair.
While he had stilled during her outburst, her papa finally sighed and sat down next to his daughter. Prince Sergei Ephrussi was a tall man, slightly more muscular than what was considered fashionable, and was graced with a dark, severe kind of handsomeness that was visible in his beloved children, though it had been softened by their fair mother's classic English beauty.
"Little star," Sergei crooned to his daughter, pulling her slightly gangly ten-year-old frame into his lap to press a loud kiss to her over-warm cheek, partly to show his daughter he was not angry with her thus far futile efforts in learning self-defense, and partly just to hear her protests about being 'too old' for such affections.
Still chuckling and ignoring his daughter's grumbles even as she turned to bury her face in his chest, Sergei said, "Little star, you know that my role for the tsar is a dangerous one, yes?"
"Yes," Sophie sighed, still frowning but now in concentration instead of frustration as she thought back to when her father had first told her of what he did, in secret, for the crown. "You said you were a gatherer of information. And that almost everyone would try to hurt you and Nikolai and Mama and me if they knew."
The patriarch tried not to let the bitterness in his heart show on his face. His position as secret spymaster for Emperor Nicolas was not one he coveted. It was, however, the only solution his family had found from religious persecution in their social circles, or from conscription into the Russian military to be used as cannon fodder. Sergei had long tried to gently shape the Tsar's politics to better the situation for his people but had yielded only minor successes, much to his growing bitterness and disenchantment with his country. This, however, was not something he wanted to share with his already troubled children, at least not yet.
"That's right, starlight," Sergei smiled down at her. "And that is why you and Nikolai must take these lessons. I know that our servants are utterly loyal to our family, and would sacrifice their own lives to keep the two of you safe, but if there is one thing I need you to understand, it is this." He turned Sophie so that he was looking right into those dark, night-sky eyes. "In the end, the only person you can trust with your life is yourself. I want you to be strong, so that I will always know you are safe."
Sophie heaved a great sigh, frustrated tears gathering in her eyes. "But I am no good at it! I am just...just…"
Patiently, Sergei waited a moment for her to finish and when she did not, he gently prompted, "Just what, little one?"
"I am just a girl!" She cried and buried her face in her hands.
It took a tremendous effort for Sergei to keep himself from cursing. If there was one thing he hated most, it was this foolish determination of men to make women think themselves weaker, think themselves less than a man. Ivan, while Nikolai was groaning on the ground from where he'd tripped over his own ungainly feet trying to execute a kick, turned to check on his lord and the tiny princess.
Sergei took great appreciation and solace in watching that familiar fond expression softening the huge man's rough face. Ivan had been by his side through everything that he had been through in the last thirty years. Ivan had been protector, spy, informant, confidant, uncle to his children, and even Sergei's voice of reason on occasion when his tolerance for the twisted activities of the elite wore bare. He couldn't imagine a life without this intimidating giant keeping them safe. Ivan made a complicated gesture towards the two of them while Nikolai recovered, and Sergei shook his head. While he was grateful and slightly bemused that Ivan was wrapped around his children's little fingers, this was something he could handle.
Additionally, Nikolai's ego would go unbruised if Ivan continued to treat him like a worthy opponent who needed to be carefully watched, especially in light of his new awkwardness following this latest growth spurt that his son had yet to fully get used to.
Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, Sergei brushed some of his daughter's wild curls back from her face. "Your mother is a girl," he said seriously.
Sophie rolled her eyes and heaved a great sigh. "I don't see what Mama has to do with-" Suddenly Sophie's night sky eyes blew wide and she spun to face her father, demanding in a manner uncannily similar to her papa, "You don't mean to tell me that Mama knows how to do any of this!"
"Of course she does," Sergei said very seriously. "You, your brother, and your mother are the three most important people in my life. I started training her the day we were engaged."
What he didn't tell her was that his delicate Maggie had taken years to be confident in her strikes, and had tried to give up multiple times. She would never be an assassin, his Maggie, but she could keep herself safe and that was all he cared about. Besides that, her skill with languages and acting made her a far better spy than anyone would ever have guessed. Maggie had been so afraid, that first day in St. Petersburg, afraid that she would just get into Sergei's way as he did his job. Oh, how fate laughed...
Memories flit through his mind, and Sergei smiled faintly. "I could not do what I do without your mother." He couldn't, but more to the point, he wouldn't want to. Not now that he knew the bliss and comfort of working hand in hand with the woman he loved and respected above all others.
For a moment, Sophie was silent, worry still evident in her expression. Then, she asked, "What if I never get better?" She looked up at him, her dark brows knit with worry.
"My dearest star," Sergei crooned, leaning down to kiss the bridge of Sophie's elegant aquiline nose. "If you are worried I will be angry or disappointed in you, you have nothing to fear. All I can ask is that you trust me, and try."
Sophie's shoulders straightened, and that familiar stubborn set to her jaw, so reminiscent of his mother, came back. "I will, Papa. I promise I will."
Sergei chuckled lowly. "I know you will, starlight. Now, let's try-"
A flash of movement distracted them both, and they turned to see Ivan lying on his back on the floor, much as Sophie had been just a few minutes earlier. Nikolai was standing over him, frozen in shock. He recovered himself quickly and dove towards the prone bodyguard. "Ivan! I'm sorry, are you alright? I didn't mean to hurt you, I didn't even think I was going to be able to throw you like that but you said-"
Suddenly, the large bodyguard burst out laughing, covering the panicked words of the prince. Springing to his feet with a grace and alacrity that was completely at odds with his bulky frame, Ivan beamed wide, clapping Nikolai hard on the shoulder. "I hope you caught that, your radiance. He threw me right over his shoulder like he'd been doing it his whole life!"
Nikolai, assured that he hadn't actually hurt Ivan, was now trying hard to keep his smile contained. Sergei pulled his son in for a long hug, pride threatening to choke him. He tried not to think too hard about how tall Nikolai was getting, and instead met Nikolai's eager gaze. "Well done, little bear. Very well done."
"Kolya that was incredible!" Sophie clapped her hands together and hugged her brother as soon as her father released him. Immediately she tugged Nikolai over to the other mat and arranged them both into ready positions. "You have to show me how you did that!"
The two of them immediately set to working through the throw, though Nikolai was much more gentle with Sophie than he had been with Ivan, and Sophie's frustration was forgotten in her joy for her brother's success.
Without even entirely meaning to, Sergei murmured, "That's my stubborn starlight."
Ivan laughed beside him, the sound like boulders crashing against each other. "She certainly is at that. The young prince will be a bear when he is grown, to be sure, but Princess Sophie..." Ivan shook his head. "Half of a fight is having the right mindset. You just give her time, your radiance, and she'll be able to put me on my backside quicker and easier than you. Mark my words."
Sergei raised a challenging brow. "I hope you're not picking favorites between my children, Ivan. Maggie would be most put out."
"What am I being put out about?" A musical voice asked playfully while Ivan laughed. Sergei turned to meet his wife's bright, pale blue eyes. He crossed the space between them quickly and pulled her into his arms. She went into his arms readily, met him halfway for the searing kiss he gave her.
After a too-short period, in Sergei's opinion, Maggie pulled away to tease, "Wicked man. You have soiled my dress with your sweaty state. Just look at me, I am a wreck."
Maggie looked perfect, and she well knew it. Sergei only shrugged, swallowing the smile on his face as he held her even closer. "Well, as long as you already claim yourself looking wrecked..."
Sergei began tickling Maggie mercilessly, and her shrieks of laughter halted the training Sophie and Nikolai were doing on the mats, bringing them running over to tell their mother everything that had happened in the last three hours since they'd seen her with the same eagerness and intensity one might expect from soldiers coming home from war.
Ever patient with their children, Maggie just smiled and listened, gasping and nodding where needed. At first glance, Sophie and Nikolai strongly favored their father's features, both had lustrous dark curls, distinguished aquiline noses, and the Ephrussi angular jaw. But standing next to their mother, it was easy to see the features they'd gotten from her. Primarily, Nikolai had inherited his mother's pale blue eyes, and both he and Sophie shared their mother's determined, intelligent spirit, her goodness and character evident in the glinting of their eyes.
When their stories were finally exhausted, Sophie and Nikolai asked their mother what she was carrying. Sergei recognized the clear and practical handwriting on the top envelope, but he let Maggie tell the children herself.
"I have heard from your Aunt Phoebe," Maggie began, and waited with a smile for the squeals of excitement to die out. "And she has insisted that we let you return to Meryton this November. Now, I know that this means you'll miss spending Channukah and Passover with your father again, but we can always do as we did last year and send your Channukah gifts for your aunt to give you if you both would like to go again this year. I am sure that you would be welcomed back to the home of the Goldsmids for Passover when they learn that you will be near London again over the holiday."
Sophie nodded eagerly. "Oh yes, Mama, I would like that very much. Nikolai and I did very well to light the candles on the Sabbath ourselves, and I am much better with the prayers, Papa said so. We were very well behaved at the Goldsmids home during Passover dinner, just like you told us to."
Only slightly less eager than his sister, Nikolai agreed. "That would be wonderful, Mama. I will be more sad to miss Passover here at home with Father, but I have missed Noah and our other friends even more than I thought I would. When Aunt Phoebe sends you her Christmas presents, Mama, Sophie and I will do as we did last year and send ours along with them."
Maggie raised a questioning eyebrow at Sergei, silently asking for his stamp of approval. He smiled and happily acquiesced. "I know that your aunt will make sure you attend the synagogue in London for services during the high holidays, and I will keep you in my prayers when I light a yizkor candle for your bubbe. We will be together again before Rosh Hashanna."
With both of their parent's approval, the surge of cheers renewed itself, and Sergei knew all hope of continuing combat lessons was temporarily abandonded. Still, he did not repine letting his children enjoy their happy chatter anticipating reuniting with their English friends. There would be time enough yet for training, and until they were proficient, Sergei knew he could rely on his people to keep them safe. As devoted as Ivan was to the family, the others under his employ were just as loyal if not more. The Ephrussis had always treated those under their employ with the greatest dignity and respect, and protected them from the lecherous and abusive tilts that haunted the houses of other nobles. No house in all of Russia was as safe for young maids as theirs. Sergei knew the value of loyalty and worked hard to ensure he was worthy of it from those who worked for him.
Ivan bowed respectfully before Maggie, and upon rising said, "I will make sure that Anna and Pytor know of the plans to return to England, and I will find a few of the men to go with them for their safety."
Tutting fondly, Maggie shook her head at Ivan, smiling. "No need for such formality between us here, Ivan. I trust you will find the right people to keep my children safe."
With such words of praise, spoken so fondly by his beloved mistress, Sergei could hardly blame Ivan for puffing up with pride, though he tried his best to be respectful and not snort with laughter. Ivan bowed to them both again and then went to rustle Sophie and Nikolai back onto the training mats, and back to their training. Sergei was pleased to note that both of the children were enthusiastic in their compliance.
Maggie wound her arm through his, leaning against him with no regard to the earlier fuss she had made about his less than fresh state. "They are doing well?"
Sergei nodded, smiling down at her. "Very well. Kolya managed to throw Ivan for the first time just before you arrived."
A small noise of surprise escaped Maggie's lips. "That is very well indeed. And Sophie?"
Together they watched Ivan patiently walking Sophie through an uppercut. Sergei smiled at the stubborn clench of his little girl's jaw. "She had a moment of despair earlier, I admit, but after seeing Kolya throw Ivan she is determined to learn to do the same."
"She wants to be just like Kolya," Maggie laughed lightly.
"And he wants nothing more than Sophie's complete happiness," Sergei agreed.
The children were practicing strikes on the padded mannequins especially designed for that purpose of training. Parents watched in silence for a few minutes while Ivan continued his instruction. Then, Maggie asked, "And what does Ivan think of their progress? They seem to have made great strides to me, but I am no expert pugilist."
A small smile crept over Sergei's face as he answered. "Ah, you have hit upon the reason I was chiding Ivan for inciting your ire when you arrived. He has told me that my nicknames for the children are very accurate, to his assessment. He is sure that Nikolai will have the strength of a bear when he is older, but that Sophie's stubbornness will give her the edge over her brother when they grow up. He said, and I am quoting, that she will be able to put him on his backside quicker and easier than I, given enough time."
Maggie's smile of smug satisfaction made Sergei smile wider. "That's our little girl," she said proudly. They watched the children for another few minutes together, Sergei leaning over to press a kiss to her temple, or raise her knuckles to his lips every so often.
It was then that Sergei noticed his wife's smile was somewhat strained as she glanced back at the letter from her cousin in her hands. Sergei turned his attention more fully to his wife. "Maggie? What is it, my soul-light?"
The endearment only elicited a half-hearted smile from Maggie as she sighed and handed the letter to Sergei. "Vincent sent someone after Phoebe. She tried to downplay it, but she doesn't know that Noah was around the corner when the thug tried to force Phoebe to sign Netherfield over to Vincent. Noah's letter to me was simply a page, begging me to help her."
Dark was the first instinct that swelled within Sergei at the fear and despair he could see as he read Noah's letter, and the even greater, albeit hidden, fear in Phoebe's letter. Maggie's hand brushed his hair back from his temple, her cool, gentle fingers soothing that intense, lethal instinct to eliminate the threat to his family. Like Samson, he could be, and for better or worse Maggie was certainly his Delilah.
"We will help them, Maggie," he assured her, looking deep into her eyes. "But first, let us start with what we know of the situation-"
Maggie nodded confidently, squaring her shoulders as the mantle of control she wore as his spy mistress fell around her. They had done this very thing so many times, plotting how to help...or hurt, as needed or deserved. "So that we may best know what action to take. Yes. Well, as I told you, Netherfield and all of the other things she retained as her settlement in her marriage, including the Addington jewelry, cannot be touched by anyone she and her lawyer, Mr. Phillips, did not identify in her will. Financially and legally, she and Noah and all of the things that are hers alone are safe."
As an Addington, who had once been a very large family of peers that dwindled in numbers through recent generations until Phoebe and his Maggie were the very last, both women had inherited great fortunes from their parents, who had, in turn, made sure those very fortunes could not be tied to their new husband's existing estates and fortunes in both Phoebe and Maggie's marriage settlements. Phoebe had inherited Netherfield outright, half of a large collection of jewelry, and a very large account in the four percents. Technically, Addington Cottage belonged to Maggie, as well as the other half of the Addington jewelry collection and another very large account in the four percents, but since Maggie had not been off of the Continent since she and Sergei had married, she had instructed Phoebe to treat the house in London as her and Noah's own.
Sergei knew all of this, but it did nothing to placate him. "All of which leaves them very vulnerable to a physical attack," Sergei growled, keeping his voice down so that his children did not overhear. "That scoundrel who calls himself an Earl will not content himself to walk away when he learns he will never buy his way out of his debts with Phoebe's fortune and Noah's inheritance."
Sighing again, Maggie rubbed at her forehead. "I agree. I know something must be done to protect them, but I am sure that Phoebe would never want us to seek a..." Here, Maggie's eyes darted to the children, checking that they were still distracted before continuing, "...a more permanent solution to this problem."
Fighting the urge to sigh, Sergei nodded in assent to show he understood. He knew it would be a simpler solution to arrange the death of the fourth Earl of Pembroke, but with the reports he'd gotten recently of the Earl's behavior, the things he'd been saying to anyone who would listen about 'his own mother cheating him out of what was rightfully his'? If the Earl were to die now, too many questions would be raised.
"Well," Sergei said slowly, thinking. "We can always arrange for a few of our people to begin to filter into her service. We can advise that she hire a few new footmen, and send along our recommended people for the positions."
"And over the next few years," Maggie continued, picking up where he had left off, "Whenever she needs to hire new staff we can send more of our people her way. The more people there to protect her, the better."
This was a plan that might actually work, Sergei thought to himself. "Of course, Phoebe would have to agree to hire on our people over any others, at least for a few key positions. She still doesn't...know about what we do, though, does she?"
Maggie shook her head. "No, she doesn't. I believe she might have a suspicion that your duties to the tsar are not all that we have told her they are, but I know she will not press the issue. She trusts me and my judgment, and I did marry you after all." Here, Maggie cupped his face, kissing the bump on the bridge of his nose. "Most willingly, in fact. So while she doesn't know what we do, I am sure she will hire anyone we intimate she must, for her own safety."
Well then, Sergei thought. That was more than enough to convince him. "It will be done. I will talk to Ivan, he will know who among our people in England will be best for the position. And if any of our people here require a move to the continent after the Bobrinsky's ball next week, we will have somewhere for them to go."
At that, the frown on Maggie's face took on a different worry. "Do you really think the ball will be so bloody?"
"Nothing public, my soul-light, but I am sure that night will be the catalyst many will use to see the completion of the plotting and private battles going on in the shadows of our society. Grigor has heard too much for me to think it will happen any other way." Sergei tried to say this gently, rubbing his wife's hands in his own.
Squeezing his hands in return, Maggie gave a soft snarl in disgust. "And the elite will once again suffer nothing while those they stand on pay the price. Conscripted soldiers starve and freeze and die while they laugh in ballrooms and play with the troops as if they are dolls in their childhood nurseries."
Letting out a soft hum of agreement, Sergei met his wife's gaze. "One war at a time. I will speak to Ivan about sending Phoebe protection first, and then we will consolidate plans for the Bobrinsky's ball."
There, at long last, his lovely wife smiled her lovely smile, tension falling from her frame. "You know, I used to read the Greek legends of heroes and wish that a Perseus or Heracles would come to whisk me away. What need have I for any of them, when I have you?"
Chuckling, Sergei pulled Maggie in to embrace her, holding her close and enjoying how whole she made him feel. At length, he turned his head to murmur against her ear, "If I am any Greek man of myth, I am surely Achilles, and you are my one weakness, as well as my one true strength."
Maggie giggled and kissed him as a reward before they turned back to watching their children and Ivan train on the mats. Finally, Sophie checked her watch and sighed. "I am due at that tea for Countess Orlov's celebration of her eldest's betrothal. Wish me luck. I fear that Eva's functions are always dreadfully dull, if informative."
Sergei reluctantly nodded and kissed her softly, less passionately than he wished he were free to do, but still at length. When they finally needed to part to draw breath, he leaned his forehead against hers. "As always, be careful, my love. I would not have you hurt for the world."
He could feel the curve of Maggie's smile against his lips as she kissed him once more, briefly, before pulling away entirely. She called back over her shoulder in her light, teasing soprano, "I am always careful, my love. Heaven knows I could not trust you to raise the children alone."
A/N: You'll have to forgive me for the spy ring aspect of Sergei and Maggie's duties to the Tsar. How accurate this is to history is completely up to whatever belief you have of the Russian monarchy, or really of monarchies in general. Official history books likely wouldn't tell you if they existed in any country's monarchy, or give an accurate history of them even if they told you they did exist. This is a good example of me 'stretching history' to fit the needs of the story, haha. I included a lot of Jewish facts and historical information in this closing A/N simply because I find this beautiful religion interesting, and I hope it will get some private appreciation from someone else even if none of this will be explored fully in this story.
Emperor Nicholas I of Russia: Nicholas I was the Tsar during this period of time, and while his official order commanding the conscription of all Jewish sons into the military for 25 years after they turned 18 did not happen until 1827, it was still something that happened, and this sort of behavior towards Russian Jews did not start in 1827. He was, among other things, Anti-Semitic and considered a reactionary whose aggressive foreign policy was a financial nightmare for Russia. On a somewhat more positive note, his reign also had geographical expansion and a huge rise in industrialism. Emperor Nicholas I will not appear in this story, but he might be mentioned, which is one of the historical inaccuracies I mentioned.
Addressing a Russian Prince: All of the sources I have consulted agreed that when addressing a Russian nobleman, particularly those in higher standing, instead of saying 'your highness' as they did in England (among others), it was expected for the address to be 'your radiance', or 'vashe siyatelstvo'/'Ваше Сиятельство'.
Nikolai's Eye Color: I actually had some fun breaking out the old genetic tables for predicting features when I created Nikolai and Sophie. They strongly favor their father and his family, but even though Sergei and his parents had brown eyes, Maggie and her mother had blue eyes, so there is a ~30% chance of passing blue eyes on to one of the children, a chance that Nikolai inherited.
Russian Diminutives: Russian names often have built-in diminutive forms that close friends and family will use. This is usually done by shortening the name and adding an 'ilya' or 'asha' to the end, but some other names have different forms. The diminutive for Nikolai is Kolya, which is what Sophie calls her brother. Sophie is already a diminutive of Sophronia, the more 'English' name her mother gave her though I traced the name back to Greek origins, and Sophie's diminutive is much more commonly used than Nikolai's.
Jewish Holidays: While Hannukah is a loved Jewish holiday, its timing during the other winter religious holidays does not mean that it is as important to Jewish people as Christmas is to Christians. The major Jewish holidays are the Pilgrim Festivals: Pesaḥ (Passover), Shavuot (Feast of Weeks, or Pentecost), and Sukkoth (Tabernacles). There is also a lot of celebration during the High Holidays: Rosh Hashana (the Jewish New Year) and Yom Kippur (Day of Atonement). Passover takes place in April, Shavuot in June, Yom Kippur in September, and the week of Sukkoth, ending with Rosh Hashana begins five days after Yom Kippur. The Jewish people I have spoken to about holidays have all spoken more of the importance of Passover and the September month festivals than they have Hannukah, though please don't think this means it's an 'unimportant' holiday.
Jewish Service Attendance: I am not Jewish, so I do not have any personal experience to fall back on, and no one I have talked to has been able to tell me if Jewish populations in Regency England were as performative/dedicated to attending services at a synagogue as the Anglican population of England was to attending church services at the time. I have not found any other reliable research about the attendance habits, other than that it seemed to be on an 'as felt was needed and during the High Holidays' basis. Though again, I am not confident in this assessment, and if anyone knows of a reliable source, please don't hesitate to PM me, even if just for my own edification.
Yizkor: A yizkor candle is a memorial candle that is lit by those who want to honor and remember the loved ones that have passed. The mourners join in congregational Yizkor memorial prayers on Yom Kippur and on the last days of Sukkot, Pesach (Passover), and Shavuot, which are customarily observed in memory of one's parents, siblings, spouses, and children; in this case Sergei is telling the children he will light a yizkor candle on Passover for their bubbe's (grandmother's) passing. The memorial candle is lit just before the start of the yahrzeit or holiday at sundown. The candle burns for about 25 hours and it is allowed to burn itself out.
Bevis Marks Synagogue: The synagogue Sergei is referencing in London is a real synagogue. The Bevis Marks Synagogue, officially Qahal Kadosh Sha'ar ha-Shamayim (קָהָל קָדוֹשׁ שַׁעַר הַשָׁמַיִם or "Holy Congregation Gate of Heaven"), is the oldest synagogue in the UK in continuous use. It is located off Bevis Marks, Aldgate, in the City of London. It first began operating in 1701 and was attended in 1809 by the Dukes of Cumberland, Sussex, and Cambridge at the behest of the same Benjamin Goldsmid that the Ephrussis are talking about sending the children to Passover dinner with. I can't tell you why they attended, only it is reported that they were all pleased with the services, the High Priest Rabbi Hirschell, and were even invited to look into the Arc that held the Five Books of Moses. There were also some cruel, racist political cartoons about this visit, but the fact that the Dukes (all sons of George III) attended at all is pretty cool to me. The Jewish population in England was small, twenty to twenty-five thousand, with the majority of them living in London, and therefore attending Bevis Marks Synagogue. I've seen pictures online, and I highly recommend you all look at the history of the temple. It's an amazing, beautiful place with a lot of dignity and history.