The Paleys (1921-1927) - An Alternate Romanov Story

Sneaking Away

Paris, July 1923

Serge

The evening in Boulogne-sur-Seine was quiet. Most of the homes in the neighbourhood were empty, most likely because their owners had already left for their summer retreats—likely along the Côte d'Azur or in Italy, where the wealthy preferred to spend the season.

Under normal circumstances, Serge would have gone there as well. Since Sergei Diaghilev had discovered him two years before, he had spent his summers refining his dancing technique in Milan. But now, he was caught up in this far-fetched scheme that Anna and her brother concocted—the ambitious plan to somehow reach the Tsar of Russia through distant family connections living in Paris.

The whole thing felt overly complicated, and he doubted it would lead anywhere. The Tsar was a distant, heavily guarded figure in Petrograd, and the idea that they could get close to him from a bench in this posh Parisian neighbourhood seemed almost absurd. Serge hadn't joined the plan because he believed in it. He was looking for something different to distract him, something exciting. Besides, he liked Anna and would do anything she asked.

For the past few weeks, they had come to this bench, with its clear view of Grand Duke Paul's mansion, two or three times a week, depending on their workload with the Ballet Russes. They watched the comings and goings around the house, though it was rare for something to happen. Princess Natalia was only there on weekends, and the friend staying with her—whose identity they still hadn't figured out—remained during the week, but she only left for French lessons or shopping trips in town. When Princess Natalia returned on the weekends, she and her group of ladies-in-waiting and servants would go to the theatre, opera, or some new exhibition, but mostly kept to themselves. No one of significance visited the house, and Serge doubted they even knew the Tsar personally.

"I thought the life of a spy would be more interesting," he commented, stretching his arms lazily.

Anna shot him a stern look. "We are not spies, Serge. We're looking for an opportunity to change Russia, and right now, this is the best chance we have without spilling blood."

Serge straightened up, feeling slightly intimidated by her words. He knew bits and pieces of her story, but she went out of her way to keep most details hidden. He knew she was Jewish, and that her family had a hard time of it during the last Tsar's reign. Sitting next to her with nothing better to do, he decided to push his luck and try to learn more.

"You really don't like these people, do you?" he asked cautiously, keeping his tone as light as possible.

Something flickered in her eyes, a coldness rooted deep within. "They didn't like us in the first place," she mumbled, almost under her breath.

Serge waited for her to say more, but she remained silent, her lips pressed into a thin line, gaze fixed on the mansion.

"What does that mean?" he asked, still curious.

Anna glanced at him briefly, then returned her focus to the house. "Do you know why I came to Paris as a child?" she asked.

Serge shook his head while Anna took a deep breath before continuing, "We had to flee our home in Kyiv during the Pogrom of 1905. An angry mob destroyed... everything. Our house and the homes of all our friends and family."

Her voice was firm, but the weight of those words made the mood between them heavy and cold. Serge didn't know what to say. He had never heard her talk about her past so openly.

Despite the look of pure hatred in her eyes, Anna continued without a flinch. "We weren't rich in Kyiv, but we were relatively well off. My father had a business—enough to keep us comfortable. When the pogrom happened, we used the last of our savings to secure a passage to Paris because my father didn't want us to live in fear for the rest of our lives. But when we arrived... we had nothing. No home, no money, and no connections. Just the clothes we managed to carry."