In deepening twilight Nicky repeated the words of the oath and as he was proclaimed ‘His Imperial Majesty The Emperor and Autocrat of all the Russias!’ distant thunder rolled far out at sea.

‘Holy God,’ Sergei muttered to Vladimir. ‘A storm is coming. What an omen! The less said about it when we reach St Petersburg, the better.’

‘And no pointing out that our new Tsarina will be heading to her wedding behind a coffin,’ Vladimir added grimly. ‘You know how superstitious people are. If that unpleasant truth takes hold, Alicky will never be seen as anything other than an ill-luck bride bringing bad fortune to Russia. And then where will we be?’

Chapter Twenty-Nine

NOVEMBER 1894, LIVADIA

For Alicky, the following week was made survivable only by the arrival of Uncle Bertie and Aunt Alix. Under Bertie’s imposing, forceful direction the atmosphere at the palace changed, for no one, not even Nicky’s uncles, wanted to appear panicked and inept in front of England’s firmly capable Prince of Wales.

Within a few short hours of his arrival, order was once again mercifully established. Aware that Nicky was far too grief-stricken to make even the slightest of decisions and that no funeral arrangements were yet in place, he suggested that perhaps it would be useful if he, Bertie, began making them.

‘Dear God, please do!’ Nicky was fervently grateful. ‘I’ll be forever in your debt, Bertie.’

Wreathed in cigar smoke, Bertie organized the coffin, the embalming and the travel arrangements for the transportation of the coffin to Moscow. There it would lie in state for three days, before the onward travel to St Petersburg, where the funeral service and burial would take place.

While he was doing this, Nicky – inspired by Bertie’s smooth efficiency – arranged that Alicky be received immediately into the Russian Orthodox Church.

‘Because until you are, we can’t marry.’ He paused. ‘And I want us to marry here, at Livadia. I can’t bear the thought of having to wait until the funeral has taken place in St Petersburg.’

Feeling the exciting hardness of his body against hers, Alicky was no more willing to wait than he was.

Nicky’s uncles thought differently.

‘Preposterous idea!’ Vladimir said to Nicky, as if Nicky was merely a badly behaved nephew. ‘A tsar’s wedding is as great a national event as his coronation.’

Sergei and Alexis were equally adamant that marrying in the Crimea would be the very worst way for him to start his rule as Emperor and Autocrat of all the Russias.

It was only when Bertie said, ‘Your uncles are speaking sense, Nicky. Go ahead with Alicky’s confirmation, but wait to be married until you are in St Petersburg and then you can follow Romanov tradition by being married in the Winter Palace’, that Nicky reluctantly abandoned the idea of a quiet Livadia wedding.

Alicky wrote in violet ink to May: