The Grand Duchess of Nowhere (8 page)

When I returned to Darmstadt, there was a letter waiting for me from Cyril. His ship would be putting in at Toulon in February and he expected to get some shore leave. Was my mother likely to be taking her usual winter rest in Nice? And if so was there the remotest chance I could join her there? In fact Mother had gone to the South of France directly from Grandma Queen’s funeral and had taken Baby Bee with her in the hope of distracting her from her crush on Grand Duke Misha. I told Ernie I thought I might visit them there. He guessed the reason at once.

‘I suppose the good ship Cyril Vladimirovich will be in port,’ he said. ‘Well, please yourself. But you may not take Elli with you. She’s to stay here with me.’

Ernie had changed. With Grandma Queen gone he ceased pretending that we could get along. Every evening, as soon as he had read Elli a bedtime story, he went out and left me alone. And when he went to the country he insisted on going alone, no matter how many Meissen figurines I threw. I called him a beastly invert. He called me a sulking child. Windows rattled. It made no difference. He always went off and did as he pleased.

All of Darmstadt knew about our frightful rows and of course I was held responsible. It was one thing for the servants to know, but something else entirely when people talked about it in the street.
Even the George Buchanans had heard, and they’d left Hesse by then and were living in Rome. Some thoughtful friend had written to tell them that Grand Duchess Ducky had hurled an antique French spear at Grand Duke Ernie and almost killed him, which was completely inaccurate. It was a German halberd and Ernie was already through the door when it struck. My aim was good but my timing was slow.

*

It was bliss to get away to France. Cyril stayed at an hotel in Cannes and motored over to see me every day for a week. Mother never received him. She contrived always to be out or resting when he called for me.

‘Nothing happened. And anyway I didn’t see it.’ That was Mother’s way of being both disapproving and a little lenient.

Cyril and I were simply cousins who both happened to be wintering in France. That was the position Mother had decided to take, and she made sure we had no opportunity to become lovers by insisting that I take Baby Bee with me wherever I went. Darling Bee. For the price of an ice cream she’d make herself scarce for half an hour so Cyril and I could park somewhere secluded and kiss. It was exquisite agony.

‘Steady on, old thing,’ he’d say. ‘One’s desperately trying to be a gentleman.’

I asked him once if he was a virgin.

‘Ducky!’ he said. ‘What kind of a question is that?’

I took the answer to be No. Well, these things are different for men.

There was so much to talk about. Uncle Bertie’s coronation wasn’t to take place for another year and a half. We decided we couldn’t possibly wait so long and if I knew Uncle Bertie he wouldn’t expect us to. In a family as enormous as ours there would always be some reason the timing was inappropriate. Someone would die and
there’d be Court mourning. Or there’d be a wedding that mustn’t be overshadowed. No, we must just get on with it.

I was to ask Ernie for a divorce towards the end of the year. Cyril was concerned that he might refuse, that he might insist on holding on to me until I’d given him an heir.

I said, ‘But Ernie knows where babies come from. He never makes the least effort to make one. I think he’s given up on Hesse. When he reaches the end of his days they’ll just have to scrape the barrel for a successor.’

I believed it could all be managed very discreetly. Uncle Bertie would be amenable, Ernie would be a gentleman and Cyril and I would be married, quietly. We’d live in St Petersburg, to be near Cyril’s base at Kronstadt, and Elli would go to Darmstadt each summer for three months, to see Ernie. What a child I was, thinking all these things would come to pass, just because I wished it.

*

In June of that year Empress Sunny gave birth to another girl. Anastasia.

So much for the French doctor
, wrote Aunt Miechen.
He’s been dismissed. One does begin to feel sorry for Sunny. An heir is really the very least we ask of her
.

In August Cyril received orders for the Pacific Squadron. I saw the hand of Sunny in his sudden transfer. I was sure Ernie must have written to her, to warn her that Cyril and I were determined to be married. He didn’t deny it. He just laughed.

He said, ‘How very self-absorbed you’ve become, Ducky. Do you really think Sunny has any power over where the Russian Navy sends its men? And do you really think she could care less about you and Sailor Cyril?’

I said, ‘I know Sunny would move heaven and earth if she thought it would make you happy.’

‘Make me happy?’ he said. ‘I’m completely indifferent to Cyril Vladimirovich’s movements and so had you better be if you insist on pursuing this idiotic pash. That’s the life a Navy wife must expect.’

Cyril was transferred to the battleship
Peresvet
and sailed for Port Arthur, Manchuria, immediately. It would be a year, at least a year, he said, before he’d see me again and I must be brave and patient. Well, I managed two months of patience and bravery and then I did the only thing I could think of. I went home to Mother.

Ernie didn’t ask how long I expected to be away. Perhaps he guessed I wasn’t coming back. If I’d taken Elli with me he’d have wanted to know every particular of my plans, but I didn’t. I left her in Darmstadt until I was sure of my next step. I anticipated there would be a great deal of shouting and weeping when I got to Coburg and told Mother my intentions. It would be no scene for a six-year-old to witness.

Mother went on the attack at once. I was twenty-four years old. I had a husband, a child and a Duchy to consider. Why must I be so selfish and infantile? What had she ever done to deserve two such silly daughters as Missy and me? And then the sharpest barb of all: if I had really left my husband why hadn’t I brought my child with me?

She said, ‘What kind of mother are you?’

That broke me. I’d been nursing that pain all the way from Elli’s nursery door to Mother’s drawing room. It was a fair question. What kind of mother leaves her child? I cried so noisily that Mother held her fire and sat in stunned silence.

When my cries had subsided to silent sobs a cup of chocolate was rung for. Mother went to the door and waited for it to be brought from the kitchens. She was determined that no servants should witness the state I was in.

I said, ‘I have to tell you something. It’s something I couldn’t allow Elli to hear.’

‘That was no reason not to bring her here,’ she said. ‘She could have been taken out for a walk in the park. And I hope this isn’t about Cyril Vladimirovich.’

I said, ‘No, it’s about Ernie’s perversion. He prefers to have relations with men.’

Then she listened.

I told her about the scene I’d stumbled on that afternoon at Wolfsgarten, about Hubert and Dieter and heaven knows how many other boys, and how I could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times Ernie had shared my bed since Elli was born.

She said nothing for the longest time. When I looked at her, to try and gauge her mood, I thought how very old she looked. Eventually she said, ‘I seem to have made a bad job of choosing husbands for my daughters.’

I said, ‘Sandra seems happy.’

Mother said, ‘Sandra chose her own husband.’

I was exhausted.

She said, ‘If only your father had lived, or dear Affie. They’d have given Ernie Hesse the thrashing he deserves.’

The idea of my brother giving anyone a thrashing introduced a welcome note of comedy to that grim afternoon. Mother took my hand. Her skin was so thin and papery.

‘My poor child,’ she said. ‘One hears of such things, of course. But in Russia we don’t have it, and I don’t think Germans suffer from it either, not real Germans. Is it an English disease? I think it must be. Well now, don’t worry. Mother will see to everything. There must be an annulment, of course, not the other thing. An annulment is so much more elegant. But the first thing you must do is send for Elli. Think what she might witness if she spends another
moment in that house of depravity. Her nurse must bring her here at once. You and she shall always, always find a home in Coburg.’

*

Later she said, ‘I suppose you still have thoughts of Cyril Vladimirovich?’

I told her that Cyril loved me and when my marriage to Ernie was dissolved I intended to marry him. She sighed.

‘Well,’ she said, ‘at least he won’t run around with boys. But I must warn you, Ducky, Romanov men don’t always make devoted husbands. They can be very hot-tempered. And they will spend money on their ballerinas. Apartments, furs.’

I said, ‘Emperor Nicky doesn’t.’

‘Perhaps not now,’ she said. ‘But only because Sunny keeps him on a short tether. I’m sure he’d still go to that Kschessinskaya creature twice a week if he could.’

I was astonished. Mathilde Kschessinskaya was one of those women whose name was linked to several Grand Dukes. But Nicky! He’d always been so ardent for Sunny. I could only think he’d gone to La Kschessinskaya to learn the ropes, so to speak. I’d never seen her. I don’t know if she was a great beauty or just very obliging, but she seemed to be a kind of shared Romanov utility. Like a good tailor.

Mother recovered very quickly from the grenade I’d tossed into her life.

She said, ‘Of course if you do marry Cyril Vladimirovich, you’ll make your home in Coburg. You could have Schloss Rosenau.’

I said, ‘No. We’ll live in St Petersburg.’

‘Darling,’ she said, ‘don’t be silly. Do you really think Sunny will have you there after you’ve exposed her brother? She’ll defend him, you’ll see, and she’ll make sure she never has to see you. You’ll be just another Navy wife, always on the move. You’ll be posted to
Vladivostock, and then I shall never see you, never see my grandchild. No, if you’re determined to have Cyril he’ll have to leave the Russian Navy and settle here. We can find something for him to do. Does he shoot?’

Everything Mother said made sense. An annulment, not a divorce. People would be so much kinder about that. And then a home in Germany where Elli’s occasional visits to Darmstadt would be easy to arrange. I slept very well that night and felt so full of energy when I woke the next morning. I wrote to Ernie. My tone, I thought, was practical and reasonable.

A week passed and I’d had no reply. I began to think my letter hadn’t reached him.

Mother said, ‘Of course it reached him. He’s up to something. He’s scheming how to make you the villain in all this. Your name will be mud in Hesse.’

I said, ‘But the people there love me.’

‘Do you really think so?’ she said. ‘Just see how quickly they’ll forget you.’

On the tenth day Ernie’s reply came. A cold, scornful letter. An annulment? On what grounds? Was I completely out of my wits? Divorce was the only option and it must be made clear to the world that I was the instigator of the suit. His terms were that Elli must spend at least half of every year with him in Darmstadt and return to live there permanently when she came of age. That was it. No sorrow, no regret. Mother said his demands were ridiculous. What did a man know about raising a daughter? Particularly a man with Ernie’s tendencies. A little girl needed to be with her mother, not a succession of catamites.

I said, ‘What if Elli doesn’t want to live with me? She’s such a daddy’s girl.’

Mother said, ‘Want? She’s a child. What she
wants
isn’t the point.
You must stop being so feeble, Ducky. Think! What if Ernie marries again? He probably will. He’ll find some dupe. Are you going to allow another woman to raise your child for six months of the year? No, it’s quite unacceptable. Elli must live here, with you. Ernie can visit.’

Ernie’s note signalled the start of open season on my reputation. Letters flew between England and Russia and Germany. Aunts and in-laws and cousins and second cousins. The men kept quiet on the whole, perhaps anxious to keep the lid on their own little peccadilloes, but the womenfolk had plenty to say. Baby Bee became my listening post.

‘General opinion seems to be that you’ve lost your mind. Aunt Ella hopes time will heal. Irene finds it all most perplexing and Empress Sunny wishes you were dead. I must say, Ducky, I hope all this isn’t going to ruin things for me.’

‘Did Sunny actually say she wished I were dead?’

‘Not actually. She said it would have been better for Ernie to be widowed than be dragged through the horror of the D thing. Amounts to the same thing though, doesn’t it?’

Better death than divorce. Grandma Queen’s opinion precisely. Perhaps when one is Empress it comes naturally to move untidy lives and inconveniences around like pieces on a chess board.

Others, who at least didn’t wish for my early death, suggested the only course of action was for me to take the veil, to go into some closed order and never be spoken of again. Ernie’s sister, dear Vicky Battenberg, wrote that she would always remember me fondly, which made me feel that perhaps I was dead. Aunt Louise sent a postcard with the single word
Coraggio!

One good thing happened. The more the world raged against me the more staunch Mother was in my defence. She vowed never, ever to have me put away. I’d always known she loved me but it
was the first time in my life I felt the warmth of her love. Cyril’s mother, Aunt Miechen, stayed wisely but very unusually silent.

The grounds for an annulment were problematical. Not impossible, but likely to proceed at a snail’s pace. There was the little matter of Elli. Clearly our marriage had been consummated. Even Mother conceded that I’d be an old woman before an annulment freed me to marry Cyril.

My marriage to Ernie ended on 21st December 1901. We were granted a divorce on the grounds of invincible mutual antipathy. It was a bleak phrase that ignored what good friends we’d been and what good times we’d had before we were laced into marriage, but it saved the public washing of any soiled linen.

Ernie and Elli spent Christmas in Kiel with Irene and her children, then Ernie brought her to Coburg, to spend a month with me.