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

Confusion

It had been only three or four hours since Natalia had knocked on Marianne's door, but it looked as if the entire city of Paris had been summoned to Alexei's bedroom. The corridor was filled with people she barely knew. Guards, doctors, nurses, and courtiers who had been staying at nearby hotels, ready to intervene in case of this sort of emergency. They all had grave expressions on their faces and murmured amongst each other, but none of them seemed to know what to do. Some paced up and down the hall, drifting from the foyer to the drawing room, while Alexei's muffled cries of pain echoed faintly down the hallway.

The sound pierced through Natalia's soul and made her contort with guilt and helplessness. It took her a moment and another deep breath before she summoned the courage to continue walking towards the room, but she did so anyway, trying to ignore the stares and whispers some of the people present were directing at her. She was sure that, by now, they all knew she had been there with him, and the bruises and cuts on her legs and arms did little to dispel the angry attention she was receiving.

The door to the room was opened, and even more people were inside, making the atmosphere heavy and the air impossible to breathe. Around the bed, she found three doctors, including the specialist in blood illnesses they had contacted in Paris. Her father and Vladimir were also there in a corner by the window, but they looked as dazed as everyone else and didn't notice when she walked in.

Alexei was howling in pain, but she tried to ignore it as best as she could for the moment. She would go to him in a moment, but first, she needed to talk to the doctors, so she walked towards the bed with hesitant steps and touched the shoulder of the specialist cautiously. He turned to her with wild eyes, unable to hide his intense emotions. Natalia could only imagine the pressure he was under. It was not every day a single person held the future of an entire Empire in their hand.

"Are you Irina?" He asked her in a brutish manner.

At the sound of Natalia's voice, her father and Vladimir finally realised she was there. Their heads snapped in her direction, and in an instant, they rushed to her side, urging her to leave the room amid protests and stern words that she barely registered. She ignored them, as well as the specialist's intimidating stance and tone.

"Irina is pregnant," she announced in a blunt, cold way. "Can she donate blood in that condition?"

It seemed to Natalia that the room went into a deep silence, much like the one that had settled upstairs when her sister had first given the news. It would have been impossible for the room to be entirely quiet because Alexei, in the middle of his overpowering pain, had never stopped screaming, but that was how Natalia remembered it, even years later. She also remembered the astonished expressions on the faces of her father and Vladimir as they heard the news. It was certainly not the best or even the most gracious way of telling them that the family was about to grow, but Natalia was in a deeply practical state of mind and, in order not to break down at the sight of Alexei fading away on his bed, she also had to push away any other feelings or sentimentalities.

The specialist ran a hand through his hair and huffed in frustration.

"No, it's already too risky as it is. No one can be sure what would happen to both mother and child if we attempted it. We're going to have to find another way."

"What is the worst thing that can happen if I give my blood?" Natalia asked.

Instead of answering her directly, the specialist turned to her father.

"Was she a match with the Tsar?"

Her father promptly shook his head.

"No, she was not. My son-in-law Feodor is, but he has tuberculosis, and the specialist from England who ran the tests told us that it would be impossible to use his blood."