The Paleys (1915-1921) - An Alternate Romanov Story

A New Path

Natalia

Tsarskoe Selo, 9 April 1920

Dear Alexei,

I devoured your letter about the Grand Wedding (capital G, capital W, for emphasis, you understand) with the same fervour one might attack a plate of warm piroshki. I'm very proud of you, I know how boring it must have been to write all those words about it, but I'm very glad you did. It's exciting to have inside knowledge of the wedding of the year, even if you don't see things that way. But, then again, if it was my own sister, I would probably find it difficult to see what all the fuss was about.

It's a shame you can't describe her dress in more detail. The pictures in the newspapers came out all blurry and it's difficult to see the details. Also, what colours were your other sisters wearing? It's always important to know what colours are à la mode in case we get an invitation to a wedding, though, with Masha and Marianne settled into wedded bliss for three years now, grand affairs seem to have followed the dodo into extinction.

Speaking of which, a visit to Gatchina is long overdue! My pleas to Mama have reached a fever pitch (though some tears may have been strategically deployed for added effect). She, however, insists that our lessons were "practically non-existent" while we stayed at Biarritz and Paris and we need to "catch up". The audacity! Can one truly focus on algebra when life itself is a whirlwind of grand weddings, fashionable whispers, and the burning need for smuggled wedding photographs?

I'm digressing again, sorry, but I know, deep down, you enjoy my ramblings so, instead of starting fresh on a new page (heaven forbid!), I'll leave my tales here for your amusement.

Answering your question, Paris was heaven, as always. Biarritz, however, was a complete washout - the usual springtime special of wind that could knock your cloche off and waves that'd make a sailor seasick. But Papa simply adores it, and it's the one place where our international family flock together, so we persevered like good sports. We usually see my brother Alexander and the girls, but, as you know, this year they were at your sister's wedding. My father was hoping to see his sister, Aunt Marie, but apparently she's very ill and could not make the journey, which left him very distressed.

However, we did see her daughter, Beatrice, and her husband, Alfonso, who we all call Uncle Ali and is a Spanish Infante, which I always find very exotic. I think she's absolutely gorgeous, even more so than her sister, Queen Marie (though Marie's got a certain... je ne sais quoi). Uncle Ali is just delightful, always joking around and thinking of the most delicious pranks with the help of his three boys, who are also a lot of fun. A right riot, the whole lot of them!

As for Paris, my exploits wouldn't exactly set the Seine on fire. However, I did manage to return with a wardrobe that'd make any flapper green with envy - perfect for those long summer days. Now, there's talk of a coming-out ball for Irina this winter (she's already sixteen after all), but she seems positively unfazed by the whole affair. Unlike yours truly, of course! Papa proposed a joint debut next winter, and I simply can't wait! Naturally, I've already scoured every dress shop Mama would tolerate, gathering inspiration. Though, who knows what the bee's knees will be by then!

Now, for a juicy bit of gossip! While we were in the City of Lights, a bombshell landed in our laps. A high-ranking military official, a dear friend of Papa's no less, sent a letter inquiring about the most dreadful rumours! Apparently, whispers were swirling about Bodia being dismissed from the army due to health issues. We were all aghast, you see! We hadn't heard a peep from him. At first, we dismissed it as pure nonsense, but after some investigation by Papa, the awful truth came tumbling out - Bodia had indeed been discharged! The rest of the holiday was rather spoiled - Papa, clearly disappointed by Bodia's silence and hoping for a letter that never came, decided to cut our Parisian sojourn short. We hightailed it back to Russia the very day after Easter!

The return home wasn't quite the joyous reunion we'd hoped for. Bodia and Masha met us at the station, and I could practically feel Papa fuming about confronting him. You know how he is - won't lose his temper in front of Irina or me. So, he held his tongue until we got back to the palace. Our governess whisked us away to our rooms, but the fight between Papa and Bodia was awful. We could hear their raised voices, even if we couldn't catch the words. It got so bad that Bodia decided to stay at Papa's Petrograd palace, where he's been living since Paris.

The whole thing left us utterly distraught. You see, Papa rarely loses his composure, especially around us. But Bodia's situation clearly pushed him to his limit. The truth is, Papa has never quite approved of Bodia's passion for writing. He tolerates it only because Bodia has earned respect and recognition in the army, but the notion of writing as a profession seems to irk him.

It simply baffles me! Perhaps it's a generational thing, a time when such pursuits weren't considered respectable. But Bodia's talent is undeniable! His poems are beautiful, and his plays are a joy to act in. I, for one, believe this is what truly makes him happy.

Years of enduring the army life just to please Papa... it pains me to write this, but I can't help but feel Papa is being terribly unreasonable. Shouldn't Bodia's happiness be the priority? After all, we're not exactly in line for the throne, nor do we hold full royal titles. Why burden him with the same expectations that have weighed Papa down, the son of an emperor, for his entire life?

However, there might be a light at the end of the tunnel for Bodia! News of his health struggles seems to have reached the headmaster at Corps des Pages, his old military academy, you might recall, and he has offered Bodia a most extraordinary position - Professor of Russian Literature at the academy! Bodia practically burst through the doors today to tell us the fantastic news, and we were all simply thrilled for him.

Now, Papa isn't exactly doing a jig of joy. He'd much prefer Bodia to stick with a more "traditional" military career. However, I believe him to be reasonable enough to recognize that a professorship at such a respected academy is a prestigious position in itself, hardly something to scoff at. Besides, Bodia's health isn't something he can control, and the dismissal from the army wasn't his doing. Papa will have to find a way to come to terms with it.

That's all for now, my hand is positively cramping from all this writing! I'll keep pestering Mama about a visit, but you being the Tsar and all, a simple decree from you would render her arguments null and void. I already sent a letter to Tata yesterday, but please do pass on my love and how much I long for her company, as well as yours, of course.

Write back soon,

Natasha