ROMANOV AUTUMN
Chapter Fifty-Six

Mac walked very slowly into the room, realizing the empress had decorated everything in shades of purple. The windowsills were covered with vases of flowers, and framed photographs filled every available space.

"Shut the door behind you, dear. Mr. Dawson, I believe I have things from here. I will have my ladies escort her back to the nursery when we are through."

Mac turned her attention to the woman standing before her, dressed in a beautiful white gown. She took notice of the Tsarina's sad and tired eyes, though she hid that as best as she could with a smile.

Jack smiled at his daughter when she looked at him, her eyes wide, and gave an encouraging nod.

"Thank you, your highness," he replied, and Mac kept her hands folded in front of her, listening as the door made a quiet click when it closed.

Alexandra remained silent for several moments as she surveyed the child, asking that Mac sit and make herself comfortable.

"Yes, Ma'am," Mac squeaked, choosing the least comfortable-looking chair, especially after Alexandra took her place on the plush couch.

"Are you certain you are quite comfortable there?" the Tsarina asked. Mac tried desperately to keep herself from fidgeting too much and gave a nod. "That chair is hard as a board, darling. You must not fear to be truthful."

Mac felt her cheeks grow warm and sat down in a chair closer to the couch.

"Tell me, dear, how old are you?" Alexandra asked just as one of the maids came in with a platter of teacups and small cakes wrapped in colorful paper. Mac accepted one of each, using the small table beside her to set everything down between sips.

"Four and one half, your highness," she replied, and watched as the Tsarina's eyes raised with amusement.

"There will be none of that," she insisted. "If you need anything at all, you must not feel so formal."

"Oh...I'm sorry," Mac apologized, not sure what else to say, and Alexandra laughed gently. "What would you like me to call you?"

"Alexandra would suffice, quite honestly. The whole title business does get under one's skin after a while. Now, I do hope your quarters are set to your liking? Are my girls treating you fairly?"

Mac knew for a fact the truth would hurt in this case; the last thing she wanted to do was tattle on Olga, Tatiana, and Anastasia. They would scorn her forever, and so she decided it was best to tell a little white lie in this circumstance.

"Oh, yes," she answered. "They have been very kind to me, and I am quite happy in the nursery. Thank you." She realized her foot was tapping absentmindedly against the rug, and she quickly stopped the motion.

"There is the subject of lessons. I do believe your father has mentioned the fact that you will meet with the tutors who instruct my children tomorrow after breakfast?"

Mac nodded eagerly. "Yes, Ma'am, he did. I would like that very much."

"From what I have been told, you are quite intelligent for your age. I hear you are very good at making up stories?"

Mac blushed again, wondering who had told Alexandra about that. "Yes," she answered.

"My girls are very much interested in the theater, and have put on a play or two since starting their education. If it interests you, I would encourage you to participate in these plays. It would be a wonderful way to encourage your imagination, something you should never lose track of."

Mac smiled, starting to feel more comfortable. The Tsarina did not act like she was of a higher status, and in fact, reminded Mac more of her Aunt Olivia and Aunt Esther in America.

"Of course, Ma'am," she replied, not quite ready to call the Tsarina by her first name yet.

"I wanted to meet you personally, dear, because from what your father has described, you are quite an extraordinary child. I do hope you will be very happy here."

Mac took another sip of her tea and watched as a little dog about the size of a cat crawled cautiously out from under the couch.

"Oh!" she gasped when the animal came towards her, sniffing her feet and eyeing her for a couple of moments. "What a sweet little dog! May I pet him?" Mac asked, and Alexandra chuckled, insisting it was perfectly all right.

"That is Vera," she explained, watching as Mac carefully moved her hand towards the top of the dog's head, watching as Vera sniffed her fingers with her tiny black nose and immediately began to lick them.

"Hello, Vera," Mac greeted, and the little puffball of a dog gave a yip before scurrying back to its mistress. "I'm sorry...you are not a he," she added, and Alexandra laughed again at the comment, allowing the dog to hop onto her lap. "I do not mean to sound silly, but do you know of any ghosts in the palace?"

Alexandra gave her guest such a strange look that Mac immediately regretted having asked the question.

"Now, why on earth would you think such a thing?" Alexandra stroked Vera behind the ears and encouraged the dog to sit beside her.

"I just thought..." Mac paused. "I keep hearing what sounds like a person crying, and everyone I have asked has told me it is the wind." She searched the Tsarina's face for any sign of recognition, but Alexandra merely pursed her lips and kept her eyes slightly narrowed.

"I am quite sure you have nothing to worry about," Alexandra promised. "The wind does sound like a cry in certain parts of the palace, but that is merely all."

Mac nodded, not sure whether she should feel relieved or more nervous. Everyone turned tense and anxious whenever she mentioned the sound of crying, and that made her wonder if they knew more than they were willing to let on.

"Oh," she replied at last, not wanting to step out of line. After all, she was talking to royalty, not to her father or Raisa.

Alexandra kept her in the mauve room for another half hour before sending one of her maids to lead her back to the nursery. "If you have any further requests, my dear, do not hesitate to ask," she encouraged, and Mac smiled at the Tsarina, curtsying.

"Thank you," she replied politely before allowing the maid to take her by the hand. "Actually, I'm sorry...Alexandra?" She turned around again, and the empress smiled at her kindly from where she continued to sit on her couch.

"Yes, dear?" The Tsarina encouraged Mac to come back into the room so she could understand her a little better.

"I do not know if I am allowed to ask this, but my father needs to have a doctor look at him."

"Is he ill?" Alexandra tilted her head to one side and gave Mac a once-over.

"I don't know," Mac admitted. "He's had a bad cough for the past couple of days. But I don't want him to think I'm being nosy, either."

Alexandra laughed quietly. "I understand. I will make it sound as though I require a check-up for all of those employed at the palace. You need not worry, child."

"Thank you very much," Mac breathed, and waved, allowing the maid to lead her out again.

When she returned to the playroom, she found the four girls participating in separate tasks. Olga lounged by the window reading a novel, Tatiana sat playing the miniature piano, and the younger Grand Duchesses were in the middle of a sword fight.

"Hello, Mac!" Maria called when she entered, and everyone paused in their activities.

"Where have you been all this time?" Olga demanded, and Mac sat down in one of the spare seats, looking at her seriously.

"Your mother invited me to sit with her," she explained, and Tatiana frowned a little. "She said I'm going to possibly start lessons tomorrow."

Olga dropped her book at once, and Anastasia's mouth fell open. "How is that possible?" Olga asked. "You're only four! You probably don't even know how to read yet!"

"She's probably never owned a book in her life," Anastasia added, and Mac looked to Maria for guidance.

"Let her alone," Maria begged. "Mac, that is wonderful! You might get to sit with Anastasia and me."

"Yes," Mac agreed. "And I've been reading since I was three, thank you very much," she retorted to Olga, who made a face.

"Picture books, I would imagine," she grumbled, and Anastasia folded her arms.

"You probably can't read any French!" she spat, and Maria rolled her eyes.

"Neither can you," she argued. "Come along, Mac...we don't need to take this." Maria led Mac by the hand into the bedroom they shared with Anastasia and encouraged her to relax for a bit.

"Maria, can I ask you something?" Mac asked, and the older girl opened up a tin of sweets she kept in a cabinet and offered one to Mac. "No, thank you," she insisted. "I already had tea and cakes."

Maria popped a strawberry candy into her own mouth and clambered onto her bed. "What is it?" she inquired, and Mac decided Maria would be the only one she would tell about the cries she heard.

"Do you truly have a brother?" Mac asked, and Maria raised an eyebrow, startled by the statement.

"What do you mean?" She cocked her head to one side, and Mac chewed on her lower lip.

"I don't know...my father is supposed to guard him, but he's not been in the nursery once!"

Maria chewed on her lower lip, as though thinking very carefully about how to answer. "Oh, yes...yes, we do have a brother," she promised. "He's..." She was unable to finish her statement because Anastasia decided to burst in and did a belly flop onto her own cot, making such a tremble that she nearly fell off. "What are you doing?" Maria demanded, and Anastasia hung upside down, making a hideous face at Mac.

"This is my room, too, you know!" she snapped. "I can come in whenever I like!"

Maria sighed, shooting Mac an apologetic smile, and it was then and there Mac decided that she would have to go and find out about the Tsarevich on her own. Such an important person couldn't be locked up all this time, unless he was horrid-looking! Perhaps, she thought, the prince was much too ugly for people to see on a daily basis, so they hid him from society. That happened often in fairy stories, after all!

"I'm bored," Anastasia whined.

"You're always bored," Maria snipped.

"I know! Let's play tennis!" Anastasia insisted, and pulled her racket and a cup of balls out from under her bed.

"In here?" Mac asked, staring as she took a ball and aimed it at the wall above her head.

"We play in our room sometimes," Maria explained. "Anastasia, don't be stupid!" she yelped when the youngest of the Grand Duchesses gave the ball a swipe, missing the top of Mac's head by several inches. Mac dove onto her stomach, covering her head with her arms as the ball whizzed past her ear, and she watched as it rolled along the ground. "You could have hit her!"

"I wasn't going to," Anastasia muttered, and Mac hesitated to sit up again for a second. "She was supposed to catch it."

"I didn't think I was supposed to catch the ball," Mac admitted. "That's not how you play, is it?"

"What would you know about tennis?" Anastasia asked, and Maria took her own racket and showed Mac the proper way to hit the ball, away from anything breakable, and caught it in her own hand when it bounced back.

"We have matches outside when the weather's warm," Maria explained. "I'm getting pretty good, if I do say so myself."

"After a year-long losing streak," Anastasia teased, and Maria gave her ball another hit, missing it by an inch when it came back.

"Here. You try," Maria encouraged, handing her racket to Mac. "Have a go!"

"Really?" Mac asked, and Maria nodded, stepping out of the way. She took a swing at the ball and managed to catch it easily in the palm of her hand. She glanced over her shoulder at the Grand Duchesses, who stood looking at her with wide eyes.

"Are you sure you haven't played tennis before?" Maria asked, and Mac looked at her. She was just about to respond when she heard the familiar cry in the distance, and everyone stopped in mid-motion.

"Listen!" Mac demanded, and immediately bolted for the nursery door. "Tell me you heard that, too!"

"Didn't you know?" Anastasia asked. "The palace is haunted! People have died here!"

Maria rolled her eyes, and Mac stepped back a pace, not sure if she should believe Anastasia or not.

"It's not true," she argued, and Anastasia raised an eyebrow. "I asked your mother, and she--she said there wasn't a ghost."

"What does Mama know?" Anastasia retorted. "She's hardly up in our rooms. She doesn't know about the ghost of the little boy who fell and broke his neck on the stairs. Shura told us that one."

Maria stared at her younger sister with horror and immediately grabbed Mac's arm. "Don't you listen," she begged. "Anastasia, you are telling fibs!"

"Am I?" Anastasia turned on her heel and stalked towards her bed.

"Let's go." Maria sighed. "We don't need to hear any of this. Anastasia's just jealous that you're a better tennis player than she is."

Mac allowed the Grand Duchess to pull her away, all the while determined to go on a ghost hunt of her own that night.

Stories