“I'm going with them,” he said, so softly that at first she felt sure she hadn't understood him.
“To Siberia?” She looked shocked. What was he saying? What did it mean?
“I have gotten permission to go with them on the train, and return here immediately afterward. Danina, I cannot leave them now. I must see this through to the end, and see them to safety. Until they hear from their cousins in England, they will stay in exile in Tobolsk. Livadia would have been far more pleasant for them, but the government wants them as remote as possible, for their own safety, they claim. The family is terribly distressed over it, and it only seems fair to go with them. You must understand. They've been like family to me.”
“I do understand,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. “I am just so sorry for them. Are the guards decent to them?”
“Very much so. Many of the servants have gone, but other than that, inside the palace at Tsarskoe Selo, very little has changed.” But they both knew Siberia would be different, and like Nikolai, Danina was worried about Alexei. “That's why I want to go,” he said quietly, and she nodded again. “Botkin is going too, and he will stay with them. That was his choice, and in a way, it frees me to leave and come back here.” But as she nodded again, gratefully, he still had more to say. “Danina,” he began, and she sensed something ominous in his tone, before he even said the words to her. She could almost guess what he was going to say. “I don't want you to exchange our passage again. I want you to go this time. It is too dangerous for you here. Something can happen, particularly right here in town. And I can't come to you, or protect you, when I'm that far away.” On his way to Siberia, there was no way he could help her. Even now, getting from Tsarskoe Selo into St. Petersburg had become an endless ordeal. “I want you to leave for America on August first, as we planned, and I will go to Siberia with them in a few weeks, and sail on my own as soon as I can get back to St. Petersburg. I will feel much better knowing you are there, and Viktor will take care of you. I don't want any arguments, I want you to do as I say,” he said, looking almost stern, anticipating the resistance she would offer him, but she surprised him this time, and with tears streaming down her cheeks, nodded at him.
“I understand. It is dangerous here. I will go … and you will come as soon as you can.” She knew there was no point arguing with him. She knew he was right this time, although it pained her terribly to leave without him. But if he was going to Siberia with the Czar, perhaps it was best that she leave before that. “When do you think you will come?”
“No later than September, I'm sure of it this time. And I will be much happier knowing that you are safe and far from here.” He put his arms around her then and held her as she cried, longing for the time when they would be together again. He already knew that Marie and the boys were safe, and happy to be in England. Now he wanted to know that Danina was safe too. He knew that his cousin would take good care of her. Viktor had already promised to do whatever he could for them. And Nikolai trusted him completely. He knew that Danina would be in good hands with him. It would relieve Nikolai's mind as he accompanied the Imperial family to Tobolsk, and then returned to St. Petersburg. And then he would sail to America to be with her, and their new life would begin.
He had told Marie his plans before she left, and she had been surprisingly understanding about it, and promised he could visit the boys anytime. But Nikolai knew, as did she, that it might be years before he could come back to Europe. But the farce that was their marriage had gone on for long enough, and in his heart, he was more married to Danina than to Marie. The legalities, and the papers, no longer meant anything to him. Marie had wished him well when she left, and the boys had cried, as had he. Marie had been dry-eyed, relieved to leave Russia at last, and in her heart she had long since relinquished him. He felt free to move on now, as soon as he had fulfilled his obligations to the Imperial family.
“I will come back here in a day or two,” he said to Danina, before he left her, “and we can stay in a hotel until you leave.” He wanted to be with her again, to lie with her, to hold her in his arms, to see her safely on the ship. It would only be a month or so before they were together again after that. But before she sailed, he needed to be with her. It had been five months since she had left Tsarskoe Selo and returned to St. Petersburg when Madame Markova fell ill, and it felt like a lifetime to both of them. Their entire world had changed totally in those five months, and would again when they met in Vermont. Nothing would ever be the same for them again, but perhaps better now, he prayed. He would have preferred to leave with her, but his conscience would never have allowed it. He had to see the Imperial family to safety first. He owed them at least that much after all their kindness to him, and the many years he had served them.
He left, as planned, that night, and returned to St. Petersburg three days before Danina was to sail. She was watching a class with Madame Mar-kova when he arrived, and one of the students came in on silent feet to find her. Danina looked up instinctively and saw Nikolai watching her from the doorway. She knew then that the goodbyes she dreaded were about to begin, and that it was time for her to leave. And she felt Madame Markova stiffen as she sat beside her. Danina looked at her for a long moment, and then walked slowly to him, with no trace of her limp. Her bags were packed, in the room where she slept, and she was ready. And as she put away the last of her things, while he waited in the hall, Madame Markova came to join her, and stood looking down at her valises. Everything Danina owned had fitted easily into two old battered cases, and as she stood to look at her mentor, neither of them spoke for a long moment. Danina did not trust herself to speak, and the woman who had been like a mother to her for fifteen years looked stricken.
“I thought this day would never come,” the older woman said in a voice that quavered. “And I never thought I would let you go, if it ever happened…. Now I am happy for you. I want you to be well and happy, Danina. You must leave here.”
“I will miss you so,” Danina said, taking two long strides to her, and putting her arms around her. “I will come back to see you.” But in her heart, Madame Markova knew she wouldn't. She could not believe, as she looked at the child she loved, a woman now, that she would ever come back here. And she knew to the very depths of her soul that this was their final moment.
“You must never forget all you have learned here, what it meant to you, who you were when you were here … and who you always will be. In your heart, Danina, take it all with you. You cannot leave this behind you. It is part of you now.”
“I don't want to leave you,” Danina said, sounding anguished.
“You must. He will come to you when he can, in America, and you will have a good life with him. I believe that. I wish it for you.”