‘Tatiana!’ He screamed her name and ran from room to room in blind panic. A chair lay overturned in the sitting room but she wasn’t there. He checked again, looking inside cupboards, behind drapes. The bag stuffed with money was still beneath the bed so that ruled out robbery. Next he searched the outhouse and the nearby woods, with a pressure in his chest so painful that he staggered.
‘Ta-ti-ana!’ he screamed at the top of his voice and began the search all over again in case he had missed anything. Where was she? How could she simply disappear? Towards one copse there were hoof prints in the soil and possible signs of a scuffle. He leapt on his horse and set off in that direction but when he came to a fork in the road, he could see no tracks to indicate which way the riders might have gone. He was howling with grief, like a man possessed, as he picked one path and rode down it into the gathering night.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Ekaterinburg, Russia, 15th–16th July 1918
When Dmitri could control himself enough to think clearly, he realised one or more men on horseback must have followed them to his cottage. He had been looking out for Red Guards in a car or truck – their normal mode of transport – and had been so ecstatic to hold Tatiana in his arms once more that his professional caution had slipped at the most crucial moment. The pursuers must have waited till he left the cottage then snatched her. Did that mean she was back at the Ipatiev House already? He would not be able to tell until eleven the following morning when they came out to exercise in the yard.
What had made the guards suspicious? Maybe one of the other cleaning ladies told them of the imposter in their midst. Perhaps Yelena had panicked and told them herself. What would happen to her now? Might she be back at the farm, having secured her freedom with a betrayal?
He decided not to disturb the farmer and his wife with the news but rode to the Ipatiev House, keeping out of sight on side roads and alleyways. It was after eight so the curfew was in operation and the only signs of life were the night guards standing in their turrets. Next he went to the lodgings where Malevich was staying, got the landlady to fetch him, and explained in a shaking voice what he had done.
‘We must storm the house straight away,’ he insisted.
He could tell Malevich was horrified at his actions, although he hid his emotions beneath a professional soldier’s veneer. ‘If she is back inside the house, you can be sure they will have doubled the guard in preparation for an attack tonight. And the fact remains that there is nowhere to take the family. Let us sleep on the problem and consult Sir Thomas tomorrow. Perhaps he can make enquiries through official channels.’
‘You don’t understand, Malevich!’ Dmitri was almost in tears. ‘They might kill her tonight.’
‘I think I’m beginning to understand,’ he said gently, putting an arm round his friend’s shoulder. ‘You should have told me before. I did not realise you were in love with her.’
‘More than love … much more than love …’ Dmitri whispered, his eyes swimming.
‘Come then. I will ride out with you around the town and its outskirts. I’ll bring rifles.’
They trotted up and down the backstreets, one by one, stopping to watch and listen whenever they passed official buildings, ducking out of sight when they saw soldiers. It remained light until almost midnight but when the darkness fell it was hopeless to search further.
‘What if it wasn’t Red Guards who took her? Who else knew of your plan?’ Malevich asked.
‘Only the farmer, Tolmachev, and his wife and daughter, and the daughter’s friend Svetlana.’
Dmitri’s mind kept running through the possibilities. Could Tolmachev’s wife have turned them in to protect her daughter? But then they wouldn’t get the money, and her daughter might be imprisoned anyway, so that didn’t make sense. He couldn’t believe Svetlana had betrayed them, after the way she carefully guided Tatiana out of the house – but perhaps she had.
‘Let’s go to your cottage and try to retrace their steps,’ Malevich suggested, and Dmitri was grateful for a plan. His own brain was overwhelmed.
As they approached, he prayed for a miracle: that they would go in and find Tatiana sitting on the sofa with a plausible explanation for her absence. He held his breath as they dismounted and ran indoors, but there was just echoing silence, the absence of the woman who filled all his waking thoughts, who had been there in the flesh just a few hours before.
‘Isn’t it strange,’ Malevich mused, ‘that if it was the Red Guards who took her, they didn’t arrest you both?’
‘Perhaps there were only a few and they feared I might overpower them.’
‘But in that case, you’d think they would return with reinforcements.’ He sat down. ‘Perhaps it was not the Red Guards after all. Perhaps word reached the White Army and they sent an advance party to fetch her.’
Dmitri felt a ray of hope. ‘Do you think that’s possible? But how could they have heard she was here?’
‘I don’t know – maybe the farmer told someone. I will ride out and make contact with them tomorrow. They are led by Admiral Kolchak. Do you remember him from the war?’
Dmitri shook his head.
‘He’s a good man. I will ask if they have the Grand Duchess, and liaise with them over the rescue and handover of the remaining Romanovs. You stay here, keep an eye on the Ipatiev House, and see if Sir Thomas can exert pressure on the Red Guards … But now, I think, we should try to get some sleep, Malama. I will take the sofa.’
It took much persuasion but at last Dmitri went into the bedroom and threw himself fully dressed on the bed. As he lay there, eyes wide open, he noticed something sticking out from beneath a cupboard as if kicked there. He got up to retrieve it and found it was a notebook filled with Tatiana’s impeccable handwriting. It was her diary. She must have brought it with her, concealed in her clothing. Did she want to keep it safe from the guards? Was she planning to give it to him?
She had written the last entry on Sunday, just over twenty-four hours earlier. He couldn’t bear to read her words but he held the book to his face sniffing its pages. His fear for her was so acute it was like a hole gouged through his insides.
Malevich rode off at first light to locate the White Army headquarters, which he had heard were in Kamensk, some hundred miles distant. Like Dmitri he was a skilled horseman and should make it in a day, whereupon he promised to send a telegram to the consulate with news.
Dmitri went out to examine the hoof prints he had spotted the previous evening. It looked as though there had only been two or, at most, three men, but still he couldn’t find any trail beyond the crossroads. At eight, he rode into town and watched from a distance as the cleaning ladies entered the Ipatiev House, their number one fewer than yesterday. Next he went to call upon Sir Thomas and made his shameful confession: that he had rescued Tatiana then lost her again.
Sir Thomas looked stern. ‘So you think the farm girl is still in the house?’
‘I’ll be able to tell when they come outside to exercise at eleven.’
‘What will she do? My goodness, this is a muddle. I will send an immediate request for a guarantee of the Romanovs’ safety and will make enquiries amongst my local contacts. If the farm girl does not emerge with the other cleaners, you must go and tell her parents. That will not be a pleasant task, I’m afraid. And then we will wait for news.’
Dmitri remained in the consulate all morning, watching the house from an upstairs window. He refused all offers of food and drink; even a sip of tea made him feel as though he was choking. He could see no signs of life at the blanked out windows, but at eleven o’clock five figures appeared in the yard and he sprinted down the stairs and up the road. He rushed round the side of the Ipatiev House and bent to peer through the knothole, every nerve on edge. He could tell the tall slim figure in Tatiana’s gown was the farm girl long before she turned her head. The family all looked tense and scared, wandering around the yard without talking, and Nicholas paced up and down, as usual. Only the dogs displayed their normal exuberance.