Just finished Maria's section. A small excerpt.
Yurovsky comes into the dining room. Kharitonov is right behind him, glowering at the commandant’s back. Olga tugs on my sleeve. I sit down at the table and let Mama and Papa by. Mama must have forgotten her cane in the tumult; she’s leaning on Papa’s arm. Papa strokes his mustache with the other hand. He smiles and dips his head at Yurovsky. “Good afternoon, commandant,” he says. “I’ve just finished reading War and Peace. You must read it next. I’m ashamed it’s taken me fifty years to get around to it.”
“You will need to release Leonid Sednev to me,” Yurovksy answers. “His uncle has asked that the boy return to him.”
“Nicky, don’t let them take him,” Mama says in English. “Baby depends on him.”
“I have asked you repeatedly to speak in Russian in the presence of the guards and myself, Alexandra Feodorovna. If you do not comply I shall have sentries posted in your private rooms.”
I turn around. Olga is holding onto the back of my chair so tightly her hands are shaking. Anastasia hovers over me, her hand resting on my shoulder.
“You cannot take away a sick boy’s only playmate. Tell his uncle we need the boy here,” says Mama in Russian.
“Look at her go,” Anastasia whispers in my ear. “She’s fantastic.” I can’t help smiling. Mama has let go of Papa’s arm and is standing on her own. Her back must hurt terribly, but you’d never know it from the look she is fixing Yurovsky with. I haven’t seen her look at anyone that way since the day Kerensky came into Papa’s study at Tsarskoe Selo and informed her that we were all under house arrest. I was with her then; the only one of us that had yet to get measles. I thought then and I think now that she is the strongest mama in the whole world.
“I would ask you not to argue,” says Yurovsky. “The boy must come with me right away.”
“We can’t spare him. The cook and my chambermaid depend on him,” Mama says.
“We can help Nyuta, Mama,” I say. “And I won’t mind playing with Alexei more often.”
Tatiana glares at me from her place next to Mama. I look down at my lap. I make everything worse.
Papa puts his hand on Mama’s arm. “I think we’d better let him go, Sunny. If his uncle has asked for him it would be selfish for us to keep him here.”
“Papa’s right, Mama,” says Olga.
I look around at the faces crowding the dining room. Papa is leaning against the mantle, furiously stroking his mustache. Lately he’s been pulling at it so often that it’s grown sparse. Patches the sizes of kopecks are almost completely bare. His hand hovers by Mama’s elbow, as if he is afraid she will go to pieces if he touches her. Next to them is Tatiana, taller than the both of them and twice as stoic. Kharitonov, Nyuta, and Papa’s old footman Trupp are standing in the doorway behind Yurovsky. Nyuta is weeping softly.
Something seems to be missing, and then I realize Dr. Botkin isn’t here. Since Papa abdicated he’s been at my parents’ side for every decision they’ve had to make. He was with us when Papa abdicated, when we were put under arrest at Tsarskoe, when we were separated in Tobolsk. The room seems empty without him now.
“Nicky, tell him we need to pray over it. God will tell us what to do,” Mama says. Her head does not turn toward Yurovsky.
Yurovsky rolls his eyes. “If you do not bring the boy here immediately I will go and get him myself,” he snaps.
“I’ll get him, Mama,” Anastasia says. “Come on, Mashka.” She pulls me out of my seat and into our bedroom. “Stop crying,” she whispers as soon as we’re alone. “If Leonka sees you so upset he’ll cry too.”
I can’t help it. I haven’t cried this much since we’ve been here, not even on my birthday. “Please let me stay here, Nastya,” I beg. “I don’t want to see Alexei’s face. I can’t tell him.”
“Don’t be an idiotka. Leonka’s going to see his uncle. There isn’t anything to be upset over, and I don’t want to tell him alone. Come on.” She tugs me to my feet. “Dry your eyes.” She hands me her handkerchief. I wipe my eyes and follow her into the next room.
Alexei is in bed, one of his toy ships on his lap. I’ve never seen this one before, but I recognize it immediately and feel like crying all over again. Leonka is sitting in Mama’s chair. He leaps up as soon as Anastasia and I come in. Anastasia laughs. “We won’t tell on you,” she says. “That’s the most comfortable chair in the house.”
I wish I could be calm like her.
“Bloshki is boring. We’re playing ships instead. It’s the Standart!” pipes Alexei. “I’m Captain Sablin and Leonka’s my first mate. I made it perfectly. See? Solid rails and everything.” Indeed it is our old yacht, complete with its two funnels, three masts, and the railings that kept us from falling overboard when we were small. My heart seems to have squeezed its way up my chest. I feel it sitting at the base of my throat.
