Page 56 of A Queen's Match
Her brother paused, his eyes searching hers. “Alix, this letter is from St.Petersburg.”
She closed her eyes. “Burn it, then. Just like the others.”
“Are you sure? Because I really think—”
“Please, Ernie,” she said heavily.
Nicholas had written her a few times since Cowes, more frequently at the beginning and then, as time passed, less often. Alix had allowed herself to read the first letter, hoping foolishly that it might contain good news. What if Nicholas had finally convinced his parents to let them marry?
Nothing had changed, of course. All he wrote was more of the same:I promise that we will find a way to be together, but there are a number of difficulties and it may take time. I have never in my whole life been so sure of anything as I am of you….
Alix knew that Nicholas meant his promises. She just wasn’t sure he could actually follow through on them. And if she kept on believing him—letting Nicholas have everything, loving him in secret despite the cost—it would keep hurting her, every time she had to let go of him. To watch him with someone else, even if that someone wasn’t Hélène.
Not to mention that if they were caught, Alix was the one who would suffer for it. Not him.
Perhaps it would have been easier if she and Nicholas had never met. Or if she’d ignored her attraction to him, pretended there was no spark. But she was here now, and as much as she loved him, she had to protect her heart.
Already it was getting easier to dismiss him from her mind. Time had done that, and the quiet routine of Darmstadt.
“Very well. I’ll burn it.” Ernie wrapped an arm around Alix’s shoulders and gave her a quick squeeze.
At least one good thing had come out of the whole mess: she and Ernie were closer than ever. There were no secrets between them anymore. He knew everything about Nicholas,and what had happened with Hélène and Eddy, and Alix’s unexpected new friendship with Maximilian.
Maximilian’s first note had arrived in Darmstadt a few days after the regatta. It began innocuously, with a question about literature—had Alix read the new German translation of Livy’sHistory of Rome,and what did she think? To which she’d replied, half joking,I will attempt the monstrosity that is Livy if you will read Trollope.
In the months since, they had exchanged stories and confidences, becoming friends quite without Alix realizing it. She’d learned all about Maximilian’s family: his father, Wilhelm, was the third son of the previous grand duke, Leopold. Maximilian’s oldest uncle, Louis, would have been the current grand duke, but he was, as the family said, “not right in the head.” Maximilian had been shockingly open about his uncle’s mental state, how he suffered from delusions, forgot where he was or even his own name.
It was all so strange to Alix, who had been taught from a young age toneverspeak of her shameful episodes.
Their letters rambled, by turns serious and superficial.
Alix:I hosted a dinner with Father again last night; we had the deacon over for pork schnitzel. Ernie and I snuck off to play billiards, and when the deacon caught us in the game room, we had to pretend we were looking for the Bible so that he could lead us in evening prayer. Needless to say, that room doesn’t contain a Bible….
Maximilian:Remind me to tell you of the time I got caught stealing apples from the rectory’s orchard. As punishment, I had to spend the next five years serving as an altar boy. The punishment seemed more excessive than the crime….
Alix:Does Baden celebrate Oktoberfest? Though it’s nothing like Munich, Darmstadt has been quite taken over with the festival spirit.
Maximilian:Oh yes. My cousin Frederickhas been practicing Hammerschlagen, and claims he will compete in the county games.
Alix had heard ofHammerschlagen, a game where men raced to hammer nails into a tree trunk, though she’d never seen it.
“Alix? Are they here yet?” Her father, Louis, emerged from the house, sounding slightly bewildered. “I still can’t quite understand why they’re coming. It’s not as if they visited often before.”
In this house,beforeonly ever meant one thing: before Alice died.
“You know Aunt Marie delights in being unpredictable,” Alix said evasively. She and Ernie had already discussed their suspicions that Queen Victoria had sent the Coburg cousins to report on Alix.
The letter from Aunt Marie had arrived a few days ago, announcing that her family would be “passing through Hesse” on a train voyage and would be staying for a few days. It had turned the household quite upside down, maidservants hurrying to wax tables and air out guest bedrooms and wipe down furniture that had acquired a fine sheen of dust. “We’ve gotten lazy,” Alix had whispered to Ernie, who laughed.
The clatter of hoofbeats at the end of the drive made them all look up. A pair of carriages trotted toward them, the horses’ bridles jangling.
When the carriages pulled to a stop, Uncle Alfred emerged with a strained smile. Clearly, he didn’t want to visit the homeof his dead sister any more than Louis wanted him here. Aunt Marie came next, and then Ducky and Missy were spilling from the carriage like pumpkins falling out of a cart, muslins and silks fluffing up as they pushed past each other. There was a breathless string of exclamations all running together:Alix, we have missed you, where are your stables, we brought presents from Grandmama, will it be this cold all week because I shall need to borrow a coat!
In spite of herself, Alix smiled. “The stables are out back, and I’m sure Ernie would love to ride with you tomorrow. Of course you’re welcome to any of my coats.”
Missy stepped forward. “Look at your hair, Alix! Let me guess, you didn’t use any hot tongs at all? These curls are all natural?”
As always, Alix was discomfited by remarks upon her beauty. It had never really felt like it had anything to do with her. “No hot tongs,” she said hastily. “What is the news from London?”
