The Alexander Palace, Tsarskoye Selo. Winter, 1901.
Alexandra Feodorovna Romanova.
My most innocent daughter, my happiest baby with the sweetest lovesick smiles, Maria. Miss Eagar told me everything. Maria was looking out the window at a regiment of soldiers marching by. "Oh! I love these dear soldiers!" She exclaimed. "I should like to kiss them all!"
The good Miss Eagar explained to her that nice little girls donʼt kiss soldiers. A few days later, we had a children's party. Grand Duke Konstantinʼs sons were amongst the guests. Having reached twelve years of age, one of them was already a cadet and wore his uniform to the gathering. He leaned forward, wishing to kiss his little cousin Maria, but my baby put her hand over her mouth and drew back from the embrace.
"Go away, soldier," she let out with great dignity. "I don't kiss soldiers." The little boy was greatly delighted at being taken for a real soldier.
I am very pleased with Miss Eagar. Last September, a few months after my precious Anastasia was born, we visited Denmark for a family gathering. I was very glad to see my sister Victoria, her husband Louis of Battenberg, and their children Alice, Louise, George, and Louis.
Uncle Bertie and Queen Alexandra were there, and when they made a stop by the nurseries, Alexandra congratulated Miss Eagar, for she had prepared beautiful dresses for my daughters to wear after being made aware of the English sovereignsʼ upcoming visit. Queen Alexandra later commented on how nicely dressed and kept my daughters always were, making my motherly pride reach immodest levels.
We spent October in Poland, where I became more thankful than ever for my little girls and amazed by the grace and mercy of our Lord even as He sends us trials. Everything happens for a reason, to make us better.
On the way to Spala, the Polish village where our hunting lodge is located, the train in which my little girls and Miss Eagar were traveling went off at an immense speed. I was later told they had gone desperately sick from the rocking. My poor children had been terrified. Olga recalled to me how she and Tatiana had clung to each other and cried but later set aside their fear to comfort poor little Maria, who had been even more frightened. Olgaʼs idea, or so Tatiana confided to me. Leaving my two eldest praying and singing a hymn with their little sister, Miss Eagar had gone to ask the engineer to slow down.
My firstborn is becoming such a brave and compassionate little girl. Olga is passionately devoted to our Savior. She is only six now, and while she wonʼt be able to confess her sins until she is seven, I think she is already mature enough to do so. She certainly understands the meaning and significance of the ritual.
I have always worked hard to raise my children to be, above all, good little Christian soldiers fighting for our Savior, and it seems my big Olga in particular is perfectly fulfilling my expectations, although Tatiana never disappoints either. I congratulated both girls as soon as I learned of what they had done, conveying my pride for them and encouraging their protective instincts around their little sisters. And yet Olga delighted me once again when she said to me: "Mama, we were silly to be so afraid, God was with us, right?" Oh, how I felt!
The train was moving as if about to topple over. The poor servants were also on their knees praying. Everyone was upset. With great difficulty Miss Eagar made her way to the engineer and begged him to reduce the speed. He apologized saying he had no idea the results of going at such a pace would be so frightful, but that he could not reduce the speed, as the risk of running into traffic was too great. For nearly four hours the train rushed up and down in darkness through Germany.
Fortunately, Miss Eagar managed to get the children to go to bed. She is so good with them, and they do trust her. My girls slept, poor little babies, all despite being worn out by the fright and crying.
Both Miss Eagarʼs elbows were bruised and sore by the time the train reached its destination. Her face had also suffered from being dashed against the furniture and falling on the floor.
Nicky and I were greatly shocked by the incident, my husband fuming upon learning of it. He hugged each of our baby girls protectively. Later in our room, he confessed to me that the incident had reminded him of that horrible day when the train in which he and his family traveled derailed. His beloved little sister Olga, five or six at the time, had yelled in terror that they were all going to be killed.
It was terrible for my Nicky to visualize our little girls in a similar state. They are always so happy and lively, playing or walking with their papa in the garden any time he is free to do so. Hiding, running, trying to catch each other. Nicky loves throwing the squealing little ones in the air and then catching them. Witnessing this inevitably stops my heart for a few seconds, but my children seem to love it, and I trust my husband. My heart is rarely strong enough to try such antics, but whenever I am healthier than usual and can freely play with my daughters, I feel closer to God than I do performing any other action besides attending church and praying.
During our stay at Poland, a little girl born the same day as Maria got lost in the forest. She was the youngest child of one of the forest keepers in Spala and was playing close to her mother while the latter prepared dinner. The door was open though, so the little girl toddled out and wandered away. Thinking her daughter was just playing in the little garden, the mother didn't notice at first.
When the father came home for dinner, the baby could not be found. Soon every man about the place was hunting for the lost child. Nicky stayed at home from shooting that day. We were both upset and prayed for the girl.
Guards, police, keepers, foresters, and others all turned out to seek the lost child. The terrible fear was that she had been carried off by some wild beast. A two-year-old little girl like my Maria lost in the forest! Such a horrible thing to imagine! All alone, scared, and cold... and I am not even the mother. She must have suffered so much.
Neighbors stayed with the poor distraught mother. To add to the distress, heavy snow fell. All evening and far into the next afternoon the search continued until a soldier who had been out the entire night found the little one on her hands and knees under a bush, soaked through and perfectly unconscious. He quickly carried her home, where she was undressed and put to bed. In the evening she was quite recovered and playing. A true miracle. As if God were saying to me: "Alix, your prayers are also being heard".
How can I not believe in the mercy of God after so many signs of His presence in our lives? And how can I not believe in my friend Philippe? The way he talks manifests a deep understanding of God. Nicky and I love listening to him. He has been telling us for a few months now that my baby boy is already on the way. He sent me another letter recently, and of my son he wrote:
"It is time for your son to be born, Alix, he is already here. I had a vision, he will be the greatest of monarchs to have ever lived."
I became ecstatic upon reading it. My motherly pride became, if possible, even greater. How I long to meet this special child and hold him in my arms! What an honor it will be! I will make sure what Philippe prophesied comes to pass. I will also make sure he grows to become the most compassionate and Christian of all monarchs.
I havenʼt bled in over a month, so I trust my friend Philippe more now than ever. Godʼs timing is always perfect. I canʼt wait to tell Nicky tonight... or maybe now.
My husband must be coming sometime soon for tea in the Mauve Room, which I decorated myself not too long after our marriage. I wanted to create a bright and cozy environment for Nicky and my children. A room where my husband could come and unburden himself from the affairs of government. A sanctuary.
The Mauve Room is named after the silk on the walls. Matching fabric covers the furniture. I personally picked the color after having asked for one that matched a sprig of lilac my dear Nicky once gave me. I have always preferred pastels. Pale aquamarines and blue topazes over more expensive stones. Pearls are my favorite jewels, my engagement ring being a large pink pearl.
No door leads from the palace corridor to the Mauve Room. Our sanctuary can only be entered through the main bedroom or the Pallisander Room, where only our most intimate guests are allowed.
A thin silk lilac curtain covers only one of the two enormous windows of the room, which is naturally very bright for this very reason. My favorite element of the Mauve Room is the couch on which I am sitting now, especially so when I am surrounded by my children.
Anastasia rests comfortably in my arms. Tatiana and Maria are playing with some dolls on the floor. Apparently, Mariaʼs daughters are sick and she is taking them to see Dr. Tatiana. Olga was playing with them a few seconds ago, before they started playing a game she wasnʼt interested in and cried out she didnʼt like them anymore.
I scolded my eldest for being rude to her sisters and made her apologize for her behavior, emphasizing how unchristian and unladylike it had been. Nothing can be done to fully deter childhood squabbles though.
Olga is playing the piano now. While she is performing an admittedly simple melody, my daughter is so talented no one would be able to guess it is a six-year-old playing. At six months old, my little baby Anastasia is already interested in everything and even walks a little when helped. She is the most precocious of my daughters.
We will be spending Christmas here, at Tsarskole Selo. Anastasia is always staring at the trees, aiming to reach for the decorations and laughing frantically whenever I do allow her to touch them briefly before hanging them on the tree. I have struggled to keep her from dropping anything, but her excessive enthusiasm makes it almost impossible.
I look down at my youngest daughterʼs growing reddish hair and compare its color to that of my own brown curls. My dark hair has a twinge of red-gold as well. Anastasia is much fairer, but I can tell her hair will gradually become similar to mine as she grows older. She will be the second to inherit my color then. Olgaʼs light blonde hair was almost white when she was a baby. Tatiana has dark auburn hair that was a lot lighter, almost bright red, when she was younger, and Maria has golden blonde hair, but she is still a baby, so it will probably darken as well. At least all of them have inherited my and Nickyʼs blue eyes.
Anastasia has been staring at her sisters with her pretty small cornflower blue eyes for a while now.
"Ol! Ol!" She cries, extending her little arm.
By "ol" she means the dolls, of course. She knows so many words already! When I decide to lay her on the ground, Anastasia crawls straight to Maria, who drops the dolls and immediately welcomes the little intruder into her arms.
"Donʼt!" Maria squeals. It appears baby Anastasia has grabbed her hair. Tatiana has everything under control before I even finish leaning forward to intervene though. She gently takes Anastasia's hands away from Mariaʼs hair.
"Not her hair", Tatiana says softly but firmly.
Now free from her mischievous sisterʼs grasp, Maria gives Anastasia the doll she was playing with a few seconds ago, placing it in her arms very gently as if teaching her how to play.
I smile at the scene and rise from the sofa to pick up an unfinished project I started knitting yesterday. If my work turns out particularly decent, I may even sell it at some charity event. As the saying goes, idle hands are the devil's workshop.
As usual, my family and I will be visiting St. Petersburg for New Yearʼs Day, much to my displeasure, but what can be done? Duty is duty. The January of 1901 was marred by mourning for my dear grandmother. This upcoming January, on the other hand, is likely going to be a very happy social season, for those who love social seasons that is. Countless balls, dinners, and supper parties await them. At least Olga and Tatiana enjoy the beauty of the Winter Palace greatly. They are always gushing about the paintings, mirrors, plates, and all those sorts of aesthetically pleasing things. Olga wishes we could live there all year long and particularly enjoys the way Nicky takes advantage of our visits to teach her and Tatiana about their history and ancestors.
I may be the only one who is grateful to stay here in Tsarskoye Selo for most of the year.
Baby Anastasia drops the doll after about a minute of playing with it and crawls back to me. Poor Maria hopelessly follows Anastasia around, extending the arm with which she has picked the doll back up in an attempt to make her little sister pay attention to it again.
"Her mommy!" Maria cries. "You her mommy!" Her tiny voice sounds so anguished. Such is a childʼs innocence. In her eyes, Anastasia is abandoning her "daughter".
"Let her, dear", I tell Maria. "You are her mommy now". My daughter opens her beautiful big blue eyes wide and cocks her head. Tatiana takes care of the situation once again by engaging with her. What would I do without Tatiana? She is such a conscientious child already, always willing to please. I can see it in the way she looks back at me as if seeking reassurance.
"Well done, my dear", I smile at my second eldest, which seems to satisfy her, as I can tell by her grin.
Anastasia raises her little arms and I pick her up her again. It is a bit difficult to knit while holding her like this, especially considering her special interest in my work. I indulge her interest too much and she ends up undoing some of what I had previously knitted with her fingers. My work is hopelessly ruined, and as much as I try to salvage it at first, the noise from the piano doesnʼt allow me to concentrate.
"See Olga?" I say to my oldest daughter, who has stopped playing any melody whatsoever and is now experimenting with no successful result. "Even the baby wants to knit… actually, why donʼt we all start working on something? You can keep playing later, but do you know how many little girls like you donʼt have clothes?"
My two oldest daughters stop what they are doing. Olga does pout, although she seems willing enough. I stand up to fetch the materials, but my husband enters the room before I can do so, making Olga, Maria, and Tatiana start squealing with joy.
Olga is the winner of the race, getting to hug her father first, but he cuddles each of our three oldest girlies for a long time. Nicky holds up Maria in the air and then closer to cover her face with kisses. He kisses me and the little one once he is done greeting the three eldest. These are happiest moments of each day, the moments he is with me, with us.
We ask one of the maids for tea as Olga and Tatiana tell Nicky about everything they did today. They ask him about Babushka and Aunt Olga, about their cousin Irina, they ask him when they are going out with them. Little Maria speaks a little as well, but most of her sentences are a variant of: "I love you, papa."
My two oldest girls sit on their chairs as we have tea while Nicky and I carry Anastasia and Maria in our laps. After we are done drinking, my husband reads the children a short fairytale. As usual, we have to answer some of Olgaʼs questions in the end.
Once Olga and Tatiana are done showing Nicky a fairly good piece they like to play together on the piano, I ask Miss Eagar to take the children back to the nursery. Poor Maria waves goodbye at her papa for far too long. My daughters and I will have to keep working some other day. I already knit with them often, and I am teaching them how to sew and embroider as well. Tatiana really enjoys it.
"Apparently, it is not fair that Ivan was the one to marry the princess", my husband jokingly refers to one of Olgaʼs complaints about the fairytale. "Not when he had older brothers who deserved her more."
Nicholas is sitting on the couch right next to me, and when I laugh, he starts cackling as well.
"No, it seems not", I shake my head, not quite done laughing. He also needs some time to stop.
"Oh, I love her!" He suddenly exclaims. "Well, all of them darling, it feels so good to spend some time with them every day".
"Any stress lately?"
"Not particularly, sunny, no", he caresses my cheek, his smile making me melt today as it did back when we first met. His mere presence excites me as it did on our wedding night.
We small talk for a few minutes as we always do, but then I slowly become more and more quiet. I am so happy right now that I canʼt help but grieve for those who may never feel such joy. How could something like this ever end? Why did it have to happen to my poor brother?
"What are you thinking?" My husband asks as his smile leaves his face.
"Oh, you are going to think I am silly, this again", I sigh, my eyes filling with tears.
"No, no, tell me."
"I was reminded of my brother Ernie, and Ducky, of their divorce in October".
"Yes, it was all so sad and awful, what a shame, and it is hard to believe it happened to someone as close to us. Never be ashamed to talk to me, sunny, sometimes time doesnʼt easily heal wounds, and what happened took us all by surprise".
"Poor unhappy ones, it is indeed hard for us to imagine how something so dreadful could possibly have happened, my brother must be so lonely, and for Ducky to be without her little Ella…"
"It must be terrible", he finishes for me with a nod. I get closer to him, resting my head on his chest as he puts his arm around me.
"It must be so hard for a mother", I add. "Ella is such a happy and funny child, and our girls have so much fun every time they meet".
"Just precious", he says with a huge grin, probably remembering his niece and her antics with our daughters. "But it is Godʼs will darling, and that will never happen to us". He gets even closer.
"No, I love you too much for that, I would die", I smile, and then we kiss.
The kiss deepens, lasting a few minutes. Then I remember what I have wanted to tell him for a while now.
"Oh! Nicky!" I abruptly pull away from our embrace. "I forgot to tell you, I am pregnant!"
He isn't fully sure I am right at first, but as I let out how certain I am our long-awaited boy is finally on his way and why I know it to be so, I slowly see his features change from disbelief to ecstatic joy. Wrinkles in his eyes, a huge grin. Soon his arms are around me, and there was no better place to tell him than the Mauve Room.