Nicholas took his private train back to St. Petersburg that day. He didn’t like to be away from his family for so long. And he was exhausted with the role of inspiring leader. He almost wished he could hole up in his boudoir, in bed all day long, as Alix was doing lately.
The uncertainty about their son’s physical condition was distressful, but life had to continue. Especially when you were the ruler of a mighty nation.
43
Misha had to admit that his duty back at Tsarskoe Selo, fifteen miles south of the capital, was most pleasant. The tsar made his residence here almost exclusively these days, except when he and his family went down to the Crimea. Misha had been back in his old post as Imperial Cossack Guard for the last two years.
He had recently returned from accompanying the tsar for over a week on his rounds of visiting the troops. It was a welcome relief to return to the serenity of Tsarskoe Selo. Perhaps as Misha grew older, he did not have as much need to be in the heat of the action. He had, of course, applied to join the troops at the front, but had been denied on the ground that the Imperial Cossack Guard could not suffer because of the war. He was not as disappointed as he might have been twenty years ago when he had practically lived for a good war.
On his way to his post that morning, Misha encountered the grand duchess Tatiana, the tsar’s second oldest daughter. At seven, she was a tall, lanky child, graceful and self-assured, and there was no doubt that this one was a child of royalty. Very much in possession of herself, she was a born leader and even her older sister, Olga, deferred to Tatiana.
“Good morning, Misha,” she said in a friendly, casual manner.
All the children were down-to-earth and friendly, especially with the servants and staff. They never lorded their position over the servants; in fact, they often were found working right along with them at their chores.
“Good morning, Your Highness—”
“Please, none of that. You know how we hate it.”
“Forgive me—uh, Tatiana.” Misha would never be quite comfortable with such familiarity; he was thankful the tsar didn’t require it also.
“Tell me, I heard a rumor that Lieutenant Nogin is going to be a father. Is that true?”
“I heard a similar rumor.” Nogin was one of the younger members of the Cossack Guard.
“My sisters and I want to make something for the baby. Could you let us know the due date so we know how long we have?”
“Of course I will. That’s very kind of you.”
“Babies are so wonderful. It was so exciting when Alexis was born. I simply adore him. I only wish—” She stopped suddenly then made a complete change in the direction of the conversation. “And what of you, Misha. Why haven’t you found a wife yet?”
“I thought you knew. I am waiting for you to grow up, Tatiana.”
She giggled. “But by then you’ll be older than my father.”
“I’m already older than him.”
“Oh, really?” She gave this some thought. “Please don’t tell him I thought differently.”
“Believe me, I won’t.”
“Anyway, Misha, we need to find you a wife.”
“Thank you for your concern, but I think I am too old for marriage. Besides, I’m fairly content as I am.”
“But you have no family. Don’t you get lonely?”
“Occasionally, I suppose. But my best friend’s family is like my own. I am ‘Uncle Misha’ to his children.”
“What are their names?”
“Yuri is fourteen, and Andrei is twelve. Then there’s Talia, who is eleven, I think. She isn’t their sister, but she’s such a close friend that she might as well be part of the family.”
“They sound nice. I’m glad you have a family.”
Misha thought about that insignificant conversation as he stood guard at his post later in the day. Had he missed something in never marrying? He was happy with his life, and he had a high purpose in his job. He had made a conscious choice not to marry, because he felt a soldier’s life did not lend itself well to a family life. And even as a captain in the Cossack Guard, he would have found it difficult to support a family properly. He liked being ‘uncle’ to Sergei and Anna’s children—it provided all the fun and none of the responsibility of parenthood. But occasionally he did envy Sergei.
Was that the only reason he envied his good friend? On some level, he knew that part of the reason for his bachelorhood was the special attachment he felt toward Anna. His feelings were in no way dishonorable, or disloyal to Sergei. But once or twice he had found himself looking at Anna and wishing things had been different.
Perhaps he should have married and tried to wipe away those thoughts by focusing on another woman. Over the years, there had been several other women he could have married. Even now he could easily find a wife among them. Misha was still a handsome, physically fit man. He did indeed look younger than the tsar, who was eleven years his junior.
Ah, well, he told himself, it was too late in life for regrets. And he would never want to do anything to spoil the special camaraderie he had with Sergei and Anna and their children. Those bonds were much too important to him, for they were indeed his family.
The very next day, Misha was to go ice-skating with Sergei and Anna and the children. The river was finally frozen solid enough for skating; they were going to bring a lunch and make a day of it. Misha arrived about ten in the morning. He climbed the steps to the front door of Anna and Sergei’s building and was about to open the door, when he heard a sound and paused, turning to see if it was one of the children. He then caught a brief glimpse of a figure in the alley across the street. His natural instincts prompted him not to let on that he had seen anything. But it was unusual for someone to be just standing there in the alley, especially on this cold winter day.
Misha entered the building, climbed the stairs to the second floor, and knocked on the apartment door. Raisa welcomed him in. In the flurry of departure, he gave no more thought to the man in the alley. Andrei was having trouble getting a knot out of his lace, Talia couldn’t find one of her skates, and Anna was trying to convince Yuri that he could get another season’s wear out of his skates.
Raisa chuckled. “The first skating party of the season is always the same. You’d think we’d learn to prepare the day before.” Then she joined her daughter in the skate search.
Misha laid aside his own skates and offered Andrei his assistance with the knot. Sergei came down the steps wrapping his wool scarf around his neck.
“It doesn’t look as if we’ll get off on time,” Sergei said.
Misha shrugged. “The ice isn’t going anywhere.”
In ten more minutes they were all trooping out the door, chattering and laughing. They planned to walk to the tram stop a couple of blocks away, then take the tram to the ice. Misha glanced toward the alley once more. The same man was still there, but this time their eyes met briefly. Misha looked away quickly as if the incident had made no impression upon him. Perhaps he had spent too many years as bodyguard to the tsar, but something about it just did not set well with him.
He casually sidled up to Sergei and subtly indicated for him to fall back from the group a few paces.
“Sergei, I noticed someone hanging out in the alley when I arrived. He’s still there. Try to get an inconspicuous look, if you can.”
Sergei stopped walking and bent down to tie his shoe, catching a glimpse of the alley as he did so.
“There’s no one there,” he said.
Misha looked. The alley was vacant. He shrugged and shook his head. “Rather peculiar, isn’t it? That someone should loiter there for a good fifteen minutes, then the minute he is noticed, he runs away.”
“Some street vagrant, probably.”
“Yes, I suppose so. But you ought to take care, nevertheless. I’ve heard of burglars who spy out a neighborhood before striking.”
“Well, he’d have to be a pretty desperate thief if he plans to rob this neighborhood. Most of the
residents don’t have two kopecks to rub together.”
“I’m probably making something out of nothing.”
“Let’s catch up with the others.”
44
Mariana had found the strength to return to the hospital. The initial euphoria of Daniel’s expression of love helped carry her through the next two days of ceaseless labor.
Her uncle’s funeral was a struggle, even though Daniel and Philip stood by her. Ilya was buried in a graveyard with hundreds of other fallen soldiers, thousands of miles from home. Mariana tried not to think of her family, especially her grandmama, who would never be able to visit her son’s grave.
The work of the hospital continued in spite of her grief. The wounded and sick never seemed to stop coming. The deaths never got easier. They were completely out of anaesthetics, and the morphine supply was so low it could be used only on the most critical patients. In the past, Mariana had been disturbed by the plenteous amounts of vodka in the besieged city because many of the male hospital attendants were drunk all the time. Now she was thankful for it and had often sent those same attendants on black market “raids” to obtain it for hospital use.
The physical condition of the hospital staff was also deteriorating. Long shifts and poor diet had reduced most to utter exhaustion. Mariana herself, even days before her uncle’s death, had noticed bleeding in her gums—a suspicious symptom of scurvy.
Mariana, indeed, had been bolstered by her recent encounter with Daniel, but life had not improved one hundred percent, or even fifty percent. She was simply able to continue to survive—and in the present conditions, that in itself was nothing short of a miracle.
The day she returned to work after Ilya’s funeral, she met Dr. Itkinson in the corridor.
“Dr. Itkinson,” she said, “I want to thank you for attending my uncle’s funeral. It meant a great deal to me.”
“It was the least I could do, Mariana. You are certain you are ready to work?”
“What else is there to do, Doctor? It occupies my mind, and sometimes I even forget to notice the bombing.”
“I was on my way to find you,” the doctor said after a short pause. “I have a bit of a proposition to offer you.”
“Really?”
“The Japanese have offered us a small concession in return for the cease-fire we granted a few days ago.”
“That’s unusual, isn’t it?”
“Not entirely. We are fighting an honorable enemy, I suppose.”
“What is their concession?”
“They are going to allow a Red Cross boat safe passage from the harbor in order for us to evacuate some of our wounded. Stoessel has lined up a German freighter for the job. After some remodeling, it will accommodate about one hundred and fifty wounded. I know it seems a minuscule number, considering all the thousands we have, and, in my personal opinion, it is hardly worth the effort because of the accompanying personnel we will have to lose. But Stoessel is adamant that we accept the gesture. I’m in the process now of surveying all the hospitals to select the patients for the journey.”
“They won’t all be officers, will they, Dr. Itkinson?”
“Not if I have any say in the matter,” Itkinson replied with conviction. “The largest percentage will be common soldiers. Whoever goes, however, must be seriously wounded, but with a high chance of recovery. It’s not an easy selection to make. Even more difficult is staffing the boat. Choosing a physician was no problem—Vlasenko volunteered for the duty, and I saw no reason to deny him. He is the one person on the staff I can afford to do without. The nursing staff was another matter. You are all invaluable. And I know no one would volunteer to leave. But I have chosen you, Mariana, to go with the boat.”
“Dr. Itkinson, I know my work has suffered lately—”
“Don’t misunderstand me, Mariana,” Itkinson quickly interjected. “I’m not sending you away because I am unhappy with your work. You are the best nurse I have.”
“Then, why?”
“My dear, you have been through enough—and you have given enough. I am a doctor, remember? I can tell your health is suffering.”
“I am not the only one.”
“Nevertheless, I am sending you. But don’t think for a minute you are being sent on vacation. The waters between here and Vladivostok, your destination, are rife with their own dangers. And once you have turned over your patients, you’ll have orders to report by train to Mukden, where the next major battle of this war will most likely be fought. I would be reluctant to let you go, Mariana, if I didn’t believe they will soon be needing you there more than we do here.”
Mariana shrugged. “If those are my orders, what can I say?”
He gave her arm a paternal pat. “The military is wonderful in that way—making all our difficult decisions for us.”
“When will we leave?”
“As soon as the ship is refitted. A few days at best, but we want to get off before the harbor closes up with ice.”
Mariana couldn’t get away from the hospital, but she sent a message to Daniel, asking if he could come see her that evening.
She was changing a patient’s dressing when she had a visitor. It wasn’t Daniel.
“Philip, what a surprise.”
“I heard about your orders. I don’t know whether to be thrilled or depressed.”
“Let me finish here, then we can talk.”
In five minutes she led him to two vacant chairs at the nurse’s station where they sat facing each other.
“I have mixed feelings also,” Mariana said, picking up on Philip’s last comment. “A few days ago, I wanted nothing more than to get away from this place. But now I feel like I’m letting everyone down.”
“It’s not your choice, Mariana. But my feelings spring from a different source. I am glad you are leaving the dangers and privations here. I could see, though you have tried to hide it, that you have been sick for days. It’s good you are leaving before it gets worse. But—” He sighed heavily. “My selfish side wants you to stay. You have made this war bearable for me, and I don’t know what I will do without your sweet smile and your soft, dear voice.”
“Philip—”
“Please, let me finish. I love you, Mariana, and I want you to be my wife. I know wartime sometimes breeds fickle hearts, but I am certain you are the woman for me.”
“Please, Philip, I can’t let you go on.”
“I know you don’t love me in the same way,” he continued in a rush. “But that doesn’t bother me as long as I can be with you always, caring for you, protecting you. I can think of nothing else but spending the rest of my life with you.”
“Philip, you are such a dear man, and the depth of your affection does me great honor—”
“As I would do for all of our days together.”
“But, Philip, you deserve more. You deserve a woman who can love you with all the passion you yourself can give. You deserve to be unreservedly adored—and I know you will find her one day.”
“But it is not you?”
“Not when I love another.”
He shook his head, disappointed but not crushed. “Ah, I see. Daniel Trent.”
She nodded in reply. And, to avoid hurting Philip too much, she tried to subdue her joy at simply hearing Daniel’s name. But she knew her feelings were evident on her face.
“To be honest,” Philip said, “I thought I saw it the first time I saw the two of you together. But, as neither of you indicated anything to me, I hoped it was my imagination, and I might still have a chance with you.”
“We only just discovered it a few days ago ourselves—I think it was brewing for a long time, though. I hope I didn’t do anything to lead you on.”
“Only by being your natural, angelic self.”
“I’m sorry, Philip.”
He chuckled warmly. “Thank you for saying so, anyway. I’ll recover in time.”
“When you return to Russia, a decorated war hero, there will be dozens of women ready to fa
ll madly in love with you. And, if it hadn’t been for Daniel, doubtless I would have been one of them.”
At that moment, she glanced up to see Daniel approaching. Philip rose immediately and held out his hand, grinning at a somewhat bemused Daniel.
“You are a lucky man,” Philip said, giving Daniel’s hand a vigorous shake.
“What’s this?” Daniel glanced back and forth between Philip and Mariana.
“Mariana has just turned down my marriage proposal in favor of a certain American correspondent.”
“Daniel and I haven’t discussed marriage yet,” Mariana said quickly.
“What?” Philip turned toward Daniel with shock, partly feigned, partly genuine. “My dear fellow, what are you waiting for? Do you realize what you have in this girl? A priceless gem, an incalculable treasure! Don’t risk letting her get away.” He gave Mariana a wink. “She won’t have far to go.”
For one of the few times in his life, Daniel was nearly speechless. Mariana laughed. She felt bad for him, but it was a sight to behold. Nevertheless, she came to his rescue.
“Philip, you’ll scare the poor man away,” she said lightly. “You know how Americans are, fiercely independent. I thought we’d ease gently into the subject of marriage.”
Philip and Mariana laughed, and even Daniel managed a chuckle or two.
At last he was able to speak. “You are taking this quite well, Philip.”
“Above all, I want Mariana’s happiness, and I know she would never be happy with me as long as she loved you.” Philip paused and became serious. “In that vein, Daniel, I would make a request of you.”
“Say on.”
“You must accompany Mariana to Vladivostok—”
“Where?”
“Daniel, that’s why I asked you to come this evening,” Mariana said. “I’ve been ordered to accompany a Red Cross ship to Vladivostok. The Japanese are going to allow this in return for the cease-fire we granted. I’ll leave in a few days.”
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