The Secret Wife

by Gill Paul

  The gates opened and a group of women walked out in a huddle. Dmitri strained his eyes to pick out individual figures but he couldn’t see either Tatiana or Yelena. His heart was thudding against his ribcage.

  The women wandered down the road, then the gate opened again and two more emerged, arm in arm. Straight away Dmitri recognised her: how could the guards not see? She walked differently from the other women. Even when wearing the plain bonnet and gown of a farmer’s daughter she was transparently a grand duchess. He felt as if he might faint, such was the mixture of excitement and terror that swirled in his blood.

  Neither of the guards at the gate gave her a second glance and she walked down the road with her arm through that of another cleaner, presumably Yelena’s friend Svetlana. Only when she looked up and saw him could he tell she was terrified. It was an extraordinarily courageous thing to do, but Dmitri had never doubted she would manage. As she drew near, he took her arm and thanked Svetlana, who whispered, ‘Good luck! See you tomorrow.’ Tatiana’s whole body was trembling as Dmitri led her round a corner and down the street to where his horse was tethered.

  ‘I’m afraid I don’t have a side saddle,’ he apologised, his voice hoarse with emotion.

  ‘That’s all right,’ she said quietly, and mounted, adjusting her skirts. Dmitri mounted behind her, glanced back at the house, then they rode off without any further words.

  Tatiana was free! Dmitri’s heart sang as he sat with his arms looped around her to hold the reins. She was here, with him, no longer a prisoner! He could feel the warmth of her flesh, and her hair blowing in the wind stroked his face. Behind them the road was clear apart from some peasants on horseback; there were none of the cars or trucks driven by Red Guardsmen. They’d got away with it!

  Inside the cottage, she was still trembling when at last he enclosed her in his arms and held her tight. He unfastened her bonnet and caressed her as she clung to him.

  ‘Oh Dmitri,’ she cried. ‘Why have you done this? What will happen to the family if my absence is discovered?’

  Dmitri explained that he was waiting for a merchant to arrive that day, and they hoped to spring her family from captivity that very night. If not, she would return to the house the following morning and the plan would be carried out at a later date.

  She listened carefully, her eyes widening. ‘But how will you rescue them? Who will carry Alexei? Where will we go?’

  He told her that these details had been worked out by his men, who were loyal retainers from the St Petersburg imperial guard.

  ‘And I am to stay here tonight? With you?’ She looked around.

  ‘Yes. I must go out this afternoon to meet the merchant and if the rescue is proceeding tonight I will join the men, but I will return to you immediately with news. You will be safe here. It is very isolated.’

  She needed time to take it in and sank down on a chair, laying her hands flat on the table to stop them shaking. ‘It is as well you are doing this now. I did not like to warn you in a note but we all sense the end is near. The lack of respect with which the new guards treat us, the impertinence … We are an unwanted problem for the Red Guards. They resent the food we eat, the men it takes to hold us captive.’

  ‘You think they plan to move you again?’

  She shook her head. ‘Perhaps. I don’t know …’

  ‘You are safe, Tatiana.’ He knelt at her feet and leaned his elbows on her lap. ‘Trust me. I won’t let anything happen to you now – or to your family.’

  She stroked his hair. ‘My husband,’ she said, her voice husky with love. ‘I am so blessed.’

  He had a little food in the kitchen but she said she was too anxious to take more than a cup of tea. They moved to the sofa and cradled each other, talking about all that had happened during the months of separation, about the lowest moments of despair, about her exhilaration mixed with fear when she read his note and realised he had a plan to free them.

  ‘There have been other plans too,’ he told her, and explained about Yakovlev’s scheme to get them to Omsk and Henry Armistead’s plan to get them to Murmansk. ‘The British consul is helping,’ he said, and that seemed to reassure her a little.

  They exchanged long, passionate kisses that afternoon. There was a bedroom just through a doorway but Dmitri did not dream of trying to make love to her. There would be plenty of time for that in their new life. For now it was sheer luxury to hear her voice, taste her lips, feel the softness of her cheek against his, and wrap her in his arms, safe at last. They leaned their foreheads together and this time both were able to read each other’s thoughts because they were thinking exactly the same thing.

  Time seemed to stretch, like a dream, but then Dmitri consulted his pocket watch and realised it was almost five.

  ‘I must go to the consulate now to see if Armistead has arrived. Whatever happens I will be back within the hour,’ he promised. ‘Bolt the door behind me and don’t open it again until you hear my voice.’

  ‘Please be quick,’ she pleaded, and he agreed, hand over heart.

  ‘Rest now, my precious,’ he told her with one last, lingering kiss. ‘We may not get much sleep tonight.’

  When he arrived at the consulate, Dmitri was met by a very apologetic Sir Thomas. Malevich was already there, looking downcast.

  ‘I’ve just heard from Armistead,’ Sir Thomas told him. ‘He did his best to get through to Ekaterinburg but there are soldiers blocking all the access roads. You have no doubt heard about the advance of the Czech Legions through Siberia. Latest news is that they are less than a hundred miles away.’

  Dmitri was appalled. ‘Armistead can’t let us down, not now. When will he come?’

  ‘Don’t you see? He may not need to come if the Czechs free Ekaterinburg. They are defeating the Bolsheviks wherever they go and have formed a provisional government in Omsk. At long last an effective White Army is fighting back against the Reds.’

  This did nothing to lessen Dmitri’s panic. ‘But the Bolsheviks will move the Romanovs before they get here. They will never let the White Army claim such a prize.’

  Sir Thomas had to agree this was likely, but had a suggestion. ‘When they are a little closer, your men can make contact and arrange to hand over the family to their safekeeping … I can see it will be fraught but it’s the only way to proceed.’

  Dmitri paced up and down. ‘Can’t we go ahead with the rescue tonight? The Red Guard will become desperate as the Whites draw near. Anything could happen!’

  Malevich intervened. ‘But where would the family go? There’s nowhere to keep them safe in this town and there are roadblocks all around. Wait a week, two at most. If there is any attempt to move them, we can intervene … It might prove easier to spring them loose while on the road than inside a heavily guarded house.’

  Dmitri bit his lip. He wanted the rescue to proceed that night, but only because he couldn’t bear to let Tatiana return to the house now he had her safe. ‘Their lives are at risk. I can’t just sit and wait.’

  Malevich patted him on the shoulder. ‘We will keep watch and move if we have to. Do not fear, Malama. Stay strong.’

  Dmitri was close to tears as he rode back to the cottage in the dusk. He knew there was nothing he could say that would persuade Tatiana to abandon her family. She would have to be taken first thing the following morning to enter the house with the other cleaners. He couldn’t bear the thought of saying goodbye to her again, not knowing when he would next hold her in his arms. Oh, if only she would choose to stay …

  As he rode into the lane that led to the cottage he could see from afar that the front door was open. What was Tatiana doing? He had told her not to open it to anyone. As he got nearer he saw it had been smashed and hung from its frame in splintered pieces. Fear gripping his heart, Dmitri leapt from his horse and rushed inside.

  ‘Tatiana!’ He screamed her name and ran from room to room in blind panic. A chair lay overturned in the sitting room but she wasn’t there. He checked again, l
ooking inside cupboards, behind drapes. The bag stuffed with money was still beneath the bed so that ruled out robbery. Next he searched the outhouse and the nearby woods, with a pressure in his chest so painful that he staggered.

  ‘Ta-ti-ana!’ he screamed at the top of his voice and began the search all over again in case he had missed anything. Where was she? How could she simply disappear? Towards one copse there were hoof prints in the soil and possible signs of a scuffle. He leapt on his horse and set off in that direction but when he came to a fork in the road, he could see no tracks to indicate which way the riders might have gone. He was howling with grief, like a man possessed, as he picked one path and rode down it into the gathering night.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Ekaterinburg, Russia, 15th–16th July 1918

  When Dmitri could control himself enough to think clearly, he realised one or more men on horseback must have followed them to his cottage. He had been looking out for Red Guards in a car or truck – their normal mode of transport – and had been so ecstatic to hold Tatiana in his arms once more that his professional caution had slipped at the most crucial moment. The pursuers must have waited till he left the cottage then snatched her. Did that mean she was back at the Ipatiev House already? He would not be able to tell until eleven the following morning when they came out to exercise in the yard.

  What had made the guards suspicious? Maybe one of the other cleaning ladies told them of the imposter in their midst. Perhaps Yelena had panicked and told them herself. What would happen to her now? Might she be back at the farm, having secured her freedom with a betrayal?

  He decided not to disturb the farmer and his wife with the news but rode to the Ipatiev House, keeping out of sight on side roads and alleyways. It was after eight so the curfew was in operation and the only signs of life were the night guards standing in their turrets. Next he went to the lodgings where Malevich was staying, got the landlady to fetch him, and explained in a shaking voice what he had done.

  ‘We must storm the house straight away,’ he insisted.

  He could tell Malevich was horrified at his actions, although he hid his emotions beneath a professional soldier’s veneer. ‘If she is back inside the house, you can be sure they will have doubled the guard in preparation for an attack tonight. And the fact remains that there is nowhere to take the family. Let us sleep on the problem and consult Sir Thomas tomorrow. Perhaps he can make enquiries through official channels.’

  ‘You don’t understand, Malevich!’ Dmitri was almost in tears. ‘They might kill her tonight.’

  ‘I think I’m beginning to understand,’ he said gently, putting an arm round his friend’s shoulder. ‘You should have told me before. I did not realise you were in love with her.’

  ‘More than love … much more than love …’ Dmitri whispered, his eyes swimming.

  ‘Come then. I will ride out with you around the town and its outskirts. I’ll bring rifles.’

  They trotted up and down the backstreets, one by one, stopping to watch and listen whenever they passed official buildings, ducking out of sight when they saw soldiers. It remained light until almost midnight but when the darkness fell it was hopeless to search further.

  ‘What if it wasn’t Red Guards who took her? Who else knew of your plan?’ Malevich asked.

  ‘Only the farmer, Tolmachev, and his wife and daughter, and the daughter’s friend Svetlana.’

  Dmitri’s mind kept running through the possibilities. Could Tolmachev’s wife have turned them in to protect her daughter? But then they wouldn’t get the money, and her daughter might be imprisoned anyway, so that didn’t make sense. He couldn’t believe Svetlana had betrayed them, after the way she carefully guided Tatiana out of the house – but perhaps she had.

  ‘Let’s go to your cottage and try to retrace their steps,’ Malevich suggested, and Dmitri was grateful for a plan. His own brain was overwhelmed.

  As they approached, he prayed for a miracle: that they would go in and find Tatiana sitting on the sofa with a plausible explanation for her absence. He held his breath as they dismounted and ran indoors, but there was just echoing silence, the absence of the woman who filled all his waking thoughts, who had been there in the flesh just a few hours before.

  ‘Isn’t it strange,’ Malevich mused, ‘that if it was the Red Guards who took her, they didn’t arrest you both?’

  ‘Perhaps there were only a few and they feared I might overpower them.’

  ‘But in that case, you’d think they would return with reinforcements.’ He sat down. ‘Perhaps it was not the Red Guards after all. Perhaps word reached the White Army and they sent an advance party to fetch her.’

  Dmitri felt a ray of hope. ‘Do you think that’s possible? But how could they have heard she was here?’

  ‘I don’t know – maybe the farmer told someone. I will ride out and make contact with them tomorrow. They are led by Admiral Kolchak. Do you remember him from the war?’

  Dmitri shook his head.

  ‘He’s a good man. I will ask if they have the Grand Duchess, and liaise with them over the rescue and handover of the remaining Romanovs. You stay here, keep an eye on the Ipatiev House, and see if Sir Thomas can exert pressure on the Red Guards … But now, I think, we should try to get some sleep, Malama. I will take the sofa.’

  It took much persuasion but at last Dmitri went into the bedroom and threw himself fully dressed on the bed. As he lay there, eyes wide open, he noticed something sticking out from beneath a cupboard as if kicked there. He got up to retrieve it and found it was a notebook filled with Tatiana’s impeccable handwriting. It was her diary. She must have brought it with her, concealed in her clothing. Did she want to keep it safe from the guards? Was she planning to give it to him?

  She had written the last entry on Sunday, just over twenty-four hours earlier. He couldn’t bear to read her words but he held the book to his face sniffing its pages. His fear for her was so acute it was like a hole gouged through his insides.

  Malevich rode off at first light to locate the White Army headquarters, which he had heard were in Kamensk, some hundred miles distant. Like Dmitri he was a skilled horseman and should make it in a day, whereupon he promised to send a telegram to the consulate with news.

  Dmitri went out to examine the hoof prints he had spotted the previous evening. It looked as though there had only been two or, at most, three men, but still he couldn’t find any trail beyond the crossroads. At eight, he rode into town and watched from a distance as the cleaning ladies entered the Ipatiev House, their number one fewer than yesterday. Next he went to call upon Sir Thomas and made his shameful confession: that he had rescued Tatiana then lost her again.

  Sir Thomas looked stern. ‘So you think the farm girl is still in the house?’

  ‘I’ll be able to tell when they come outside to exercise at eleven.’

  ‘What will she do? My goodness, this is a muddle. I will send an immediate request for a guarantee of the Romanovs’ safety and will make enquiries amongst my local contacts. If the farm girl does not emerge with the other cleaners, you must go and tell her parents. That will not be a pleasant task, I’m afraid. And then we will wait for news.’

  Dmitri remained in the consulate all morning, watching the house from an upstairs window. He refused all offers of food and drink; even a sip of tea made him feel as though he was choking. He could see no signs of life at the blanked out windows, but at eleven o’clock five figures appeared in the yard and he sprinted down the stairs and up the road. He rushed round the side of the Ipatiev House and bent to peer through the knothole, every nerve on edge. He could tell the tall slim figure in Tatiana’s gown was the farm girl long before she turned her head. The family all looked tense and scared, wandering around the yard without talking, and Nicholas paced up and down, as usual. Only the dogs displayed their normal exuberance.

  Dmitri wished he could get a message to Yelena, telling her that she would be rescued soon. If only he had spoken to Svetlana
that morning. If only he hadn’t done such a despicable thing in the first place.

  He was waiting on the corner when the cleaning ladies left the house at twelve and Svetlana rushed straight over, her face white with worry. ‘Where is Tatiana? Yelena doesn’t know what to do. How can she leave if they do not change places again?’

  ‘I know, I’m sorry. We’re doing what we can. Say nothing to anyone and your friend will be freed soon.’ His promise sounded hollow even to his own ears and he could tell Svetlana was not reassured.

  After that he rode out to Tolmachev’s farm and told the farmer and his wife what had happened.

  ‘Svolach!’ The wife slapped him hard across the face. ‘You promised us she would be safe.’ She began to wail. ‘I will never forgive you if …’

  Dmitri quickly explained their plan to free the Romanovs and shepherd them into the hands of the White Army. ‘It will be any day now,’ he promised. ‘I will keep you informed. The good thing is that none of the guards suspect the substitution has been made and the family are keeping up the pretence. Yelena is perfectly safe for now.’

  ‘She must be so scared,’ the farmer breathed. ‘You guarantee it will be over soon?’

  ‘I give you my word,’ he told them. One way or another it would.

  Before he left he placed the bag containing two thousand roubles on their kitchen floor. The farmer’s wife kicked it. ‘What use is your money without our daughter? Did you think of that? Or was she not a person to you, just a body you could buy? You disgust me.’