Chapter Twenty-Nine (Patreon)

Dinner at the Governor’s Palace in Irkutsk was a typically a calm affair. Most days there was a small family dinner, the two Romanovs dining with their children and spouses. On occasion one of the two men (typically Alexander) would be missing. On some days there would be a broader selection of guests, typically members of Alexander’s inner circle but occasionally Maximilian’s friends and colleagues in the research department. The rarest of meals were feasts and celebrations, held only on Easter and the date of the Emperor’s coronation. Even then they were restrained by the standards of royalty, lacking the gold ostentation and elaborately sculpted cakes.

This feast was different. Alexandrine smiled as she took in the glittering of the crystal chandeliers. Her eyes lit up at the scores of noblemen and women who stood in the ballroom, waiting for her husband’s entrance.

Alexandrine glanced at her husband and allowed herself a moment of pride. In place of his usual drab clothing was a proper outfit. His uniform (this was a military celebration after all) was made of the finest wool broadcloth. The double-breasted coat and trousers were a blue so dark it appeared black at first glance. The buttons upon each breast were made of gold rather than brass as he husband originally intended (how lucky she was, to have a husband that listened!). An aquamarine silk sash was wrapped around him from shoulder to hip. His tassels and epaulets were made from cloth-of-gold. A thin leather belt hung across his body as well, crossing over the sash. At its end rested her husband’s greatest award: the Gold Sword of Bravery. Earned by his courageous leadership at the Battle of Tientsin (a story that made Alexandrine faint the first time she heard of it. In truth she was still torn–she delighted in having a brave and valorous husband, yet wondered if it was truly necessary for him to be put in so much personal danger) the sword was, her husband confided, utterly useless for battle. It was perfect for celebrations, the solid gold hilt encrusted with diamonds. They glittered beneath the oil-lamps and chandeliers, facets catching new rays of light as they shifted with every step. The Gold Sword was accompanied by several other honors, each pinned to her husband’s chest in neat rows. The orders of Saint Andrew, Saint Alexander Nevsky, and Saint Anna had been awarded at birth. The orders of Military Saint George First Class and Saint Prince Vladimir were recently earned in the war, the first for defeating the Great Qing and the second for his bravery during the campaign. If Alexandrine had her way there would be further awards. The Order of the White Eagle, the Order of Saint Hubert, the Order of the Netherlands Lion, the Order of the Elephant, the Order of the Black Eagle, the Order of the Holy Spirit, the Order of the Golden Fleece–there would be even more, if her husband was willing to travel beyond the reaches of Russia. She knew the British had offered to appoint him to the Order of the Garter–she had seen the letter! Alas, her husband refused to wear the orders of foreign states, no matter how grand they would look upon his chest.

Her husband extended his arm. Alexandrine gladly took it. They moved together into the ballroom, Alexander’s steps firm and orderly, Alexandrine’s a calm glide as her gold silk dress moved lightly, revealing the tips of her patent leather boots.

“His Imperial Highness, Governor-General of Eastern Siberia, Tsarevich Alexander Nikolaevich, and his wife, Grand Duchess Alexandrine Leopovna of Baden!” the seneschal announced. All conversation ceased. Men stood rigidly. Women tensed.

A servant brought a tray of champagne flutes to them. Alexander plucked one with his right hand, Alexandrine took one with her left. Her husband raised the flute, bubbling liquid seeming to shine beneath the oil-lit chandeliers.

“To Russia,” he said, voice quiet and commanding. “And her heroes.”

“To Russia,” they crowd echoed.

Her husband gestured, and the band began to play. It began with the brass, a trumpeting call that heralded the start of festivities. Alexandrine beamed as she took her husband’s hand, the royal pair sweeping onto the ballroom floor as the strings began to play. With their first steps came the woodwinds. They danced to the light music of the waltz. One by one the guests began to join them, a fluttering around the room as the music rose and fell. Yet for all the glamor and glory of their silk-clad guests Alexandrine had eyes for only one. Their eyes met at the crescendo and never parted again. His blue eyes, so often cold, seemed to soften. His icy heart turned to water as they moved, and Alexandrine felt her soul melting alongside him. They moved closer, their movements perfectly matched and graceful as light strings and woodwinds returned. As the music rose once more, rushing like the floodwaters of the Rhine, Alexandrine knew that whatever came, they would weather it together.

All too soon the song ended in a magnificent crescendo, the strings leaping from mountaintops to shout their purpose. The entire hall burst into applause, the conductor blushing at such praise and giving a red-faced bow. Turning back to the orchestra he began another song.

Tempting though it was to dance only with her husband, Alexandrine knew the world better than to actually do so. As the quadrille started she was paired, as befitting her status, with the guest of honor.

“General,” Alexandrine greeted with a smile as the music began.

“Your Imperial Highness,” he returned with a roguish grin. He took her hand, then they too the hand of another–Baron von Stieglitz for her, Lady Ekaterina Nikolaeva (a lady-in-waiting to her dear sister-in-law) for him–and began to dance. Three couples moved in the line, their feet moving energetically back and forth as they swayed and danced to the orchestra’s tune. Though Muravyov was her partner for the dance his eyes gazed at Lady Ekaterina far more often, tracing over her handsome figure.

“Should I start putting funds aside for the good General’s wedding?” von Stielgitz asked

Alexandrine laughed lightly. “Early days, my good Baron,” she smiled. “Though I think it a good match.”

“She has only been noble for four generations.”

“You have been noble for two,” Alexandrine pointed out.

“So I am,” von Stieglitz smiled. “I merely wonder if she is prepared for what will come. Our dear General’s father is quite important, and his family traces their lineage back to the 15th century.”

“I am unfamiliar with his father,” Alexandrine admitted. “Could you tell me more.”

“I am happy to be of service,” von Stieglitz said with an offputting smile. “It is entirely understandable that you do not know, the good General prefers to make little of his connections. His father is retired now, but in his day served as Novgorod’s governor and led the First Section of the Chancellery. He retired as a Privy Councilor.”

Alexandrine was impressed. Much like their military, the Russian civil service was run by a strict hierarchy of ranks created by Peter the Great and kept largely unchanged ever since. A Privy Councilor was the legal equivalent of a Lieutenant General, a Vice Admiral, or a Bishop. It was an impressive rank, even for one of an ancient family.

“And now his son has surpassed him.”

“Just so,” von Stieglitz agreed. “He is almost certain to receive further award, perhaps a title as well. Even if he does not receive one now your husband is all but certain to bestow one upon him when he can. His line is ancient and powerful. He is close to the Tsarevich. Thousands of families are already plotting their way to a betrothal. Do you truly believe the girl is ready for such scorn?”

Alexandrine looked to Lady Ekaterina. She saw the smile upon her lips and the flash of victory in her eyes. She looked across the room and saw her sister-in-law the Grand Duchess Maria, too pregnant to take to the floor, looking on with approval.

“Yes,” Alexandrine said. “I believe she will.”