“Sir!” I exclaimed.
He adjusted the monocle in his right eye. “My apologies, madame.” He bowed. “Masha, introduce me to your friend.”
“This is Prince Kalenischeff,” Masha said. “Don’t pay him the slightest attention, Emily.”
“Kalenischeff,” I said. “The name is familiar. Were you embroiled in some sort of trouble in Cairo not long ago?”
“Not at all, madame,” he said. “You have confused me with an extremely unfortunate cousin of mine who met an untimely end in that city.” With that, he disappeared. The orchestra began to play Glinka’s A Life for the Tsar, signaling the approach of the imperial family. A uniformed man banged on the floor with a tall ebony staff bearing the double-headed eagle and shouted, “Their Imperial Majesties!”
The tsar, dressed in the uniform of a hussar guard, and his wife, resplendent in a dress of heavy silver brocade, led the procession, which included all the grand dukes and grand duchesses, other than, of course, the emperor’s two small daughters, and the rest of court. When it finished, the orchestra began to play a polonaise, and Nicholas led Alexandra to front of the dance floor.
“She dances badly,” Cécile said. “It is a disgrace.”
“She takes no pleasure in it,” Masha said.
“It shows.” Cécile frowned. “Very bad manners.”
Seeing the empress brought the imperial egg to mind, and as I thought about it, a sickening feeling crept into my stomach. Could I have missed something critical to my case? Something that might prove Katenka’s innocence? I stood on my tiptoes, searching for Vasilii. He was standing with four other army officers on the opposite side of the room. The crowd made it impossible for me to reach him, so I waited until the imperial couple and the line of dancers behind them had moved on to the next room. The tsar was expected to dance his way through all the halls being used for the ball. The instant they had snaked through the arched doorway, I crossed the dance floor and chatted nonsensically with Vasilii and his friends. When the orchestra started to play another tune, he asked me to dance. I had counted on him doing exactly that.
“I’m afraid I don’t know the mazurka,” I said, but I gave him my hand and did my best to follow his instructions. Although I made rather a mess of it, he laughed good-naturedly and assured me that I would get the hang of it before the night was over.
“I much prefer a waltz,” I said.
“Yes, but now you are in Russia, Lady Emily, and you must learn to dance like a Russian.”
The intensity of the steps did not allow for much conversation, but by our third turn around the room, I had started to warm to the mazurka, and was even reveling in its accents, clicking my heels with abandon. I was out breath, and the room had grown even warmer once the dancing began. I begged my partner for a breath of air. We stepped out onto the balcony, the biting cold a welcome relief from the hot ballroom.
“You have converted me to a devotee of the mazurka,” I said. “I’m so pleased we have the opportunity to talk. I’ve been thinking about Nemetseva and Katenka, and there is one thing that doesn’t make sense: the imperial egg. How on earth did Nemetseva come to be holding it?” I all but fluttered my eyelashes. “I can’t imagine why we’ve never discussed it before.” I, of course, knew exactly why we hadn’t. I had avoided the topic because I knew it had nothing to do with the murder. Vasilii, on the other hand …
“I assumed you must have learned what I did, that it was nothing more than a copy,” he said. “The genuine egg never left the empress’s rooms. I myself collected the fraudulent article from the police and discovered the truth when I went to return it to its proper place.”
“I did not know.” I studied his face. There were still beads of sweat at his temples, but that was from dancing, and I detected no change in his countenance. “Not that it matters now.” I met his eyes with mine and smiled so sweetly my teeth began to hurt. “I did find the sentiment on the accompanying note lovely.”
“Only because you are not Russian. It was the most obvious choice to anyone even vaguely familiar with Pushkin. But, then, I’ve never considered ‘The wondrous moment of our meeting’ as his best work.”
“Why do you think the murderer gave it to her?”
He sighed, his breath hanging like a veil between us in the frozen air. “I believe it was a message from Katenka, a farewell of sorts, evoking the time, so long ago, when they first met. I can hardly bear to think about it. If only they had never become friends…” He shook his head. “We will freeze if we stand out here much longer. Allow me to escort you back inside.”
A fellow officer approached him almost as soon as we had crossed through the glass doors back into the ballroom and told him he was needed immediately to attend to something in one of the other rooms. Apparently an unruly guest was causing a commotion. Vasilii bowed neatly before excusing himself. I watched him disappear in the crowd of dancers until I was distracted by movement above me on the mezzanine level across from the orchestra gallery. I blinked to better focus my eyes and thought I saw a familiar face. Mitya? I recognized his spectacles and strained, trying to get a closer look. If it was him, he had no business being in the palace at all, let alone during an imperial ball. I went to the nearest footman I could find and asked how to access the orchestra gallery.
He directed me to a small staircase hidden behind a wall panel. I climbed it and stepped into the gallery. There was no sign of Mitya, only musicians. I went back toward the stairs and emerged into a passage that led to the rest of the galleries on the level. From there, I began to methodically make my way through the labyrinthine corridors that wound their way through this mezzanine level of the palace. Some members of the court had rooms here, but they were empty now, their occupants downstairs at the ball.
The sound of music grew louder whenever I approached one of the galleries above the state rooms, and peeking in through them helped me maintain a basic idea of where I was. I heard voices rather than music behind one such door, but found only musicians preparing for their performance, which would not start until midnight, when the guests would have a buffet supper. In the hall below, a veritable army of servants was making final adjustments to the long tables set with Sèvres china, silver polished to perfection, and sparkling crystal glasses.
From here, the corridor became quieter, quiet enough that I was able to discern voices. Voices I recognized. Mitya and Lev were standing fifty-odd feet away from me. I moved closer, stepping silently in my satin dancing shoes, and pressed myself against the wall next to a longcase clock to avoid being seen.
“This is the culmination of everything we have been working for,” Lev was saying. “We must proceed with extreme caution. You are certain you have Tabokov in line?”
“Yes,” Mitya said. “I implored him not to act on his own again.”
“Can you trust that he will do as he’s told?” Lev asked. “I will never forgive what he did to Anna.”
I had never warmed to Tabokov, but he was more dangerous and more treacherous than I had ever imagined. He told Colin that Lev was his agent, but what I was hearing now told a different story. There was an agent in the league, but not the way Colin believed. Tabokov had lied to disguise his own loyalties, which were decidedly not to the tsar. Anna had worked with my husband; Tabokov had killed her, probably because she had threatened to expose him.
“He does not think we are going far enough but has agreed not to deviate from the plan,” Mitya said. “He understands how important it is.”
“We should have found someone else.” Lev’s voice was gravelly.
“Evgenii Orlov was the only one who could ever control him, and he is not here.”
“There was no time to find another safe house for him, and he cannot risk being arrested again. If only—”
Mitya interrupted him. “You cannot dwell on that now. It will distract you. We have done everything possible in the circumstances to ensure our success. I am confident that when we stand before him, the emperor w
ill listen to our petition.”
I was half tempted to step forward, right then, and tell them that Tabokov could not be trusted. I could offer to bring their petition to the tsar myself—I would have no trouble gaining access to him. But, of course, I could not do that. I had no idea what the petition said and, furthermore, had no way of proving to them that Tabokov was crooked. If his murdering Anna didn’t convince them, what would?
“We haven’t been able to persuade him to do so yet.”
“No, that’s why we are taking more dramatic action.”
“I don’t want anyone hurt,” Lev said.
“Nor do I,” Mitya replied. “Violence at this point would destroy all chances of peacefully reforming our country. It is almost time now, Lyova. Be safe, my friend.”
Ekaterina Petrovna
December 1899
Katenka was sewing ribbons onto pointe shoes when Irusya banged on the door of her flat and then stormed in demanding tea. Katenka poured her a cup, but Irusya did not stop pacing long enough to be able to drink it. She was wild with anxiety about Sofya after learning that she had agreed to help Lev and Mitya with some political scheme they were planning.
“She ought not involve herself in any of this,” Irusya said. “It’s dangerous.”
“There’s no need to whisper,” Katenka said. “I can guarantee no one is listening in my flat.”
“Can you? What if they know about Lev? If they do, you can count on them watching you. They know he’s your brother.”
“Lev—and Mitya, too—are extremely careful. They have never drawn the attention of the Guard Department.”
“I think you are being naive,” Irusya said. “The Okhranka have men in revolutionary organizations. What if—”
“How have you become so well versed on this topic? I shouldn’t have thought you even knew what the Okhranka are,” Katenka said, cringing at her friend’s mention of the secret police. “You’ve never shown the slightest interest in politics before.”
“And I don’t have any now,” she said. “But my … friend … he knows about these things. Lev believes he is careful, but he needs to realize that the palace isn’t wholly unaware of what is going on.”
Katenka did not reply. She knew Irusya would resist any effort to identify her friend, and Katenka had begun to find the whole situation more than a little tedious. She had never before wondered if it was possible to take discretion too far. But she could not deny being somewhat alarmed by Irusya’s sudden concern about politics and revolutionary ideas. “I will speak to my brother and implore him to take more precautions than usual. Do remember that we have no idea at all what he is doing.”
“We know he’s drawing Sofya into it.”
“Only to distribute pamphlets. That’s what she told me.” Katenka had finished stitching and tugged at the ribbon to make sure it was firmly in place. “If she—or they, for that matter—were involved in something truly dangerous, they would never breathe a word of it to us, as doing so could endanger us as well. Pamphlets advertising some sort of rally or whatever it is might be frowned upon, but they are not likely to cause Sofya any lasting harm.”
“I don’t know why it’s bothering me so much.” Irusya flung herself into a chair. “Something about it frightens me. I can’t explain why. It may be that it’s only on my mind because I came here directly after seeing—”
“Your friend.”
“Yes,” Irusya said. “My friend.”
“It would be much more entertaining to tease you about him if I knew who he was.” Katenka hoped Irusya would take her bait and change the subject.
“I shall never reveal that particular secret.”
“Do you have others?”
“Of course I do, one of which I may eventually share with you. In the meantime, I will tell you my primary purpose for coming to you. It’s the most spectacular news. Pierina Legnani has chosen me to dance Odette and Odile in Swan Lake.”
“How marvelous!” Katenka threw down her pointe shoes and embraced her friend. “You’ll be brilliant, absolutely brilliant. And what a triumph to be selected by her. No one thought she would ever let anyone else take her place, even if she is fast approaching retirement. I could not be happier for you. You deserve this, Irusya.”
“Thank you,” she said. “There is one more thing. You deserve it, too, Katenka. I am tired of you not being given the roles you deserve. That is why I spoke to Petipa this afternoon. He has agreed to let you be my understudy. We can learn the choreography together.”
“He’s allowing me—”
“Yes, you.” Irusya leapt up and pulled Katenka by both hands, spinning her around and whooping with joy. “And I am certain that, in time, you will be cast yourself. This is the beginning of a whole new path for you. You may only be my understudy, but one can never predict what might happen. I could fall on my head in the second act and be unable to finish the performance. And then you, the little-known coryphée, would step on stage and complete the ballet flawlessly, winning the hearts of all of Petersburg. Petipa would promote you on the spot.”
“Unlikely in the extreme,” Katenka said.
“Oh, let me have my dreams, will you?”
“For you, Irusya, anything.”
January 1900
25
Almost time! My heart was racing and my mind reeling. I desperately wanted to find Colin, but the daunting odds of doing so quickly, when I had not seen him even once all evening, deterred me. I wished I could rush at the men and overpower them, but although I am quite confident in my physical abilities, I did not think I could achieve such a thing, particularly in evening dress and with nothing more than a fan as a weapon. I could go to the Palace Guard, but their revelation about Tabokov’s role in Anna’s death reminded me that I might not be able to trust even the military.
I could follow them, but with what aim? Whatever they were planning was bound to be directed at the tsar, and while I did not know the specifics, I could warn him, at least, that something was about to happen. Mitya and Lev had parted with a quick embrace, each turning a different direction at the end of the corridor. Cautiously, I retraced my steps and entered every gallery, searching the crowded rooms below, trying to find the emperor.
Locating anyone in such a swarm might be an exercise in futility, but I remained undaunted and refused to give up. What else could I do? When I stood above the Field Marshals’ Hall, I spotted the empress’s tiara. The gallery had ample space for the musicians but also included a narrow walkway that skirted the perimeter of the room. I ran along this until I reached the nearest point I could above where Alexandra stood, her husband beside her. In his uniform, the tsar was much more difficult to pick out of the crowd.
I waved my arms and shouted, but I could not be heard over the music and conversation below. I considered throwing my fan in the unlikely hope that whoever it hit would look up and see me but rejected the idea. Why ruin a good fan for nothing? I shouted again and then started back to the staircase.
All of a sudden the music came to a crashing halt as shrieks emanated from the crowd and everyone in the room surged toward the windows facing Palace Square. Their cries of “ghost” and “Nemetseva” told me what they saw. The tsar, now surrounded by a small group of uniformed officers led by Tabokov, was being hurried out of the room. I knew what to do. Lev and Mitya might have faith that this odious man would do as ordered, but I did not.
I raced down the stairs in pursuit. They had led the emperor into an antechamber. Following, I burst through the door—surprised to find it unsecured—and flung myself through the guards and at the tsar.
“It’s a plot!” I cried. “A trick! Do not let them take you anywhere!” Rough hands grabbed me and wrenched my arms back. “You are in grave danger!”
Summoning strength I did not know I possessed, I freed myself and again rushed toward the emperor. In a flash, I saw Tabokov draw a gun. Catapulting myself forward, I knocked the Autocrat of All the Russias onto the floor, shield
ing him with my body. A shot echoed through the chamber, but, so far as I could tell, the man below me was unharmed. Chaos erupted. More guards poured into the room, and the incident stopped as quickly as it had started.
Then, another commotion. I had not seen Lev in the room, but now he was wrestling with Tabokov. Mitya emerged from the crowd and into the fray. With his assistance, Lev managed to pry the gun from the would-be assassin’s hand.
“This was never meant to be violent,” he said. “We came here to talk, nothing more.” Tabokov lunged toward the tsar, who was still beneath me on the floor. Lev raised the gun and fired. Tabokov crumpled to the ground, dark blood pooling under his head.
Now more rough hands grabbed me, pulling me to my feet. Someone helped the emperor up as well—not so roughly—and Nicholas immediately made a quick motion to his guards, who released me.
“Emily?” Colin came running across the room. “What are you doing?”
“Exhibiting more bravery than all of my guards,” the tsar said. “This lady saved my life.”
“As did these men,” I said, pointing to Lev and Mitya. “They stopped the assassin. You must not—”
“Take her somewhere safe,” the tsar said. “This is no place for a lady.”
“Colin, Mitya and Lev did not—”
“I know, I know,” he said. “I shall take the matter into hand.”
My husband started barking orders to two uniformed officers who had wrenched Mitya’s and Lev’s arms behind their backs. He was motioning for them to be released, but I could not see what happened next. Three more soldiers had all but dragged me into the empress’s private drawing room in the family apartments, where, despite repeated requests, I refused the attentions of the imperial physician.
“I am quite unharmed, as you see,” I said. “The tsar?”
“He is in perfect health,” the doctor said. “The empress sends a message of deep thanks and asks that I tell you she will forever be indebted to you.”
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