There was nothing I could say to that.
He noticed I had on my coat. “You don’t need to go with me, Lottie.”
“I know, but I want to.”
“I’m going too.” Hap bounded down the stairs as the bell rang and Osip opened the door to admit the baron.
We followed the baron and Papa outside to find a group of elderly men in uniform standing on the sidewalk. There were eight in total. I recognized a few, but Papa appeared to know all of them. He went around and spoke to each one. One didn’t seem to understand what was happening. A woman who might have been his daughter held him by the arm.
The baron gave them all red armbands. “After you swear the oath, you will have to register, and you will receive an identity card, which you must carry with you at all times. Are you ready?”
He didn’t wait for them to reply as he led them down the street. It was slow going. Some of them couldn’t walk well at all. Hap offered his arm to one man, who took it gratefully.
I had been afraid the crowds we passed would jeer, but instead they fell silent and moved aside to let the men through.
“Bless you, little grandfathers,” one woman said, and her words ran through the crowd, people saying it all along the way.
We passed a group of men working to pry the imperial-eagle seal off the top of the gate to one of the government buildings. When it came free the crowd cheered and surrounded the man who held it as he carried it to the river and threw it in. Papa shuddered at the sight, but he continued on.
When we reached the Tauride Palace, the baron stopped us. “Only the soldiers should come inside,” he said. “The rest of you need to wait out here.” He went over to the man who was being helped by the woman. “I’ll make sure he comes back out to you,” he said to the woman.
We didn’t have to wait long for them to return, but when they did, every man’s face was so gray, it was as if we were seeing dead men walking toward us. No one spoke as we walked home, and when we got there, Papa let Osip help him take off his coat, and then he went into the library without a word and shut the door.
“What should we do?” Hap asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Let’s let him sit for a bit and then maybe Zarja can coax him to drink some tea.”
“I’m going to go tell Miles what happened.” Hap walked up the stairs slowly, not bounding up as he usually did.
“I’m sorry,” Osip said. “The general shouldn’t be punished for the czar’s crimes.”
The front door opened, and a woman walked inside, right past us, until she stood in the middle of the hall. She was dressed in an old-fashioned coat, so long it dragged on the ground.
I was so startled I stood frozen in place.
“Miss! Miss! May I help you?” Osip said, a bewildered look on his face.
The woman was very thin with a lined face and graying hair. Something about her looked familiar, but I couldn’t place her. She didn’t seem confused, like she didn’t know where she was, but I couldn’t think of any other reason a person would walk into a stranger’s house.
Even though I stood no more than fifteen feet away from her, she didn’t acknowledge my presence. Her gaze traveled all around the hall as if she was committing it to memory.
Zarja came into the hall. She must not have seen the woman at first because she spoke to me. “You’re back. How is the general?”
“Hello, Zarja,” the woman said. “Don’t you recognize me?” She gave a harsh laugh. “I’ve aged a bit, haven’t I? Ten years in prison with a little torture thrown in will do that to a person.” I recognized her then. Papa’s daughter.
Shock ran through me. I hadn’t thought about what the release of prisoners would mean, especially for those who had been sent all the way to Siberia. They’d of course come back to their homes instead of staying in Siberia. I hadn’t thought what it would mean to have Papa’s daughter come home.
“Maria—Maria Feodorovna!” Zarja sputtered. “We didn’t know. We didn’t expect you.”
“No, I’m sure you didn’t.” The woman took off her coat and handed it to Osip. “I decided to surprise you. Is the general home? I’m sure he’ll be delighted to see me.”
Delighted to see me. Those words brought me back to myself. Would he be delighted? After what she had done? “He’s not feeling very well,” I said. “Perhaps you can come back later.” I wanted to tell him she was here before he saw her. He’d had enough shocks in the past few weeks.
“No, I’ll stay. I’ll see him in a little while, but I do want tea first. I assume my mother’s sitting room is still a sitting room?” she said to Zarja. “You can bring me something to eat, too.”
As if noticing me for the first time, she added, “And you, whoever you are, join me. You’re a little too young to be a new wife for the general, so I’m consumed with curiosity about you. Come into the sitting room with me. I want to talk to you.”
I followed her in, still befuddled by the shock at her reappearance.
She made herself some tea and sat down, motioning for me to sit too. “Have you ever heard of me? Does my father speak of me?”
I could feel my face getting warm. I didn’t want to lie, but there seemed no good way to soften the truth. “He might have spoken of you to my mother, but he didn’t bring you up with me or any of the other children.”
“‘Other children’?” Some of the tea sloshed out of her glass onto her skirt. She ignored the spill.
I explained as best I could. She kept her eyes fixed on me. They were an intense blue, vivid against the paleness of her face. She didn’t seem to blink, and I had to keep looking away so I wouldn’t stumble over my words. There was something about her that didn’t feel quite right. I stopped talking after I told her about the twins and my mother’s death.
She drank more tea as we sat there in silence for several minutes. I had so many questions to ask her, but I didn’t know how to phrase them. I was still trying to envision this woman as a little girl running through the house. I tried to imagine myself in her position, coming back home after all the years away to find strangers here.
When she spoke again, her voice was high, and I could hear anger in it. “So two wives since I’ve been gone. And both dead now with me still alive. I’m sure my father would prefer it to be the other way around. A brother and sisters. How odd.” She gave another laugh, just as harsh as when she’d spoken to Zarja. “I longed for brothers and sisters when I was a little girl. I was very, very lonely, but of course that little girl died a long time ago.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
She held up her hand. “Don’t think I’m looking for sympathy. I’m just talking to myself. One resorts to that in solitary confinement.” She sighed. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised my father never speaks of me. I didn’t ever receive a letter from him. I thought others might have spoken of me. I was in all the newspapers at the time.”
I shook my head. “No, I haven’t heard of you, though I’m sure others have,” I said. I thought it was strange she wanted people to remember her for her crime.