Princess in Hiding

Dedicated to

John W. Molfese

Teacher and friend

and to

Olga Bryce

My Russian Aunt

(c ) 2016 Patricia M . Bryce

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without the permission

of the publisher.

Cover Design by SB Designs

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

OTHER BOOKS BY PATRICIA M. Bryce

Close to You

The Forged series

Forged in the Maze

Forged Magic

Forged Lives

Forged King

Ghost in the Well

Part 1.

An English Education 

Chapter 1.

Late August 1910, York Cottage on the Sandringham Estate; Norfolk England

Princess Iryna Alexandrovna Romanov glanced about the room, without moving her head from side to side. Mimicking her mother and aunts when at court in St. Petersburg; it was what her Grandmother had referred to once as the Imperial Glide . Taking in all the room, without being obvious or seeming too interested. She wondered why it was, Royals always gave the impression of either boredom or disinterest. She was full of questions and was dying to ask them. She would have liked to investigate, inspect, and scrutinize her new surroundings. Instead she was stuck in the little chair, waiting.

The walls of this receiving room were covered in a dark wood paneling, and held large portraits of ancestors, with serious or dour expressions on their faces. Tall windows allowed light in, but heavy curtains in a burgundy fabric hung ready to shut it out. It was different in comparison from the bright white and gilded gold halls she was accustomed to. Royalty lived here? This modest cottage in the English countryside, wasn't at all what Iryna was used to, what she had left behind in St. Petersburg. She'd wondered if perhaps decadent opulence was a Russian custom, not practiced around the world. So much of the year was cold and dark in Russia, and Russian Royalty craved light.

She fidgeted with her court sash, unable to make it sit right on her summer frock of white Batiste lawn. Her guardian, Mrs. Landers, frowned at her; a signal to stop. 'What do they expect of me?' she wondered as she placed her hands into her lap and crossed her ankles, waiting. She didn't know what all the fuss was about. Why her guardians, the Landers, were being so persnickety. It wasn't as if she'd never attended a court function before, and this wasn't even court. This was a private audience with her Godfather.

A door opened, and a tall man with a serious expression entered, Iryna felt her mouth drop open and quickly she recovered and shut it. If she hadn’t known better, she'd have sworn she was looking at her 'Uncle' the Tsar. Her guardians were quick to stand and began bowing, she too stood and dropped into the graceful curtsy she'd been taught. The man came closer and cleared his throat, silently commanding them to rise. I want to thank you, Landers, he said to the Ambassador, extending a hand to him, "For conveying our ward to us, safely."

A pleasure to be of service, Sire. The Ambassador bowed again, Iryna hadn't seen him this animated in the entire journey here. He was practically preening as he accepted the offered hand of his monarch.

Iryna looked up, eyes meeting those of the King of England. He looked so much like her Uncle Nickie. Everyone in the family was aware of the uncanny resemblance between the two monarchs. ‘A strong family resemblance’, her father had once said; and yet he wasn't at all like him. He lacked the warmth that Uncle Nickie always seemed to have in abundance. This man was stiff, as if a ram rod were run up inside him.

King George the Fifth, motioned for her guardians to give them a few moments alone. Do you know who I am? he asked. His tone, while it wasn't dangerous, didn't feel friendly either.

You are his Royal Majesty, King George the Fifth, my father's cousin, she added, My Godfather, by proxy. She had heard the story that when she was born some ten years ago, this man was the Prince of Wales, he had been named her Godfather but having to attend some state function here in England. Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria had stood in for him, then and several other times in her life. After her baptism, the Austrian was referred to as 'Uncle Ferdi'. The Archduke was no more her uncle than the Tsar was, but in a family of royals, titles and polite honorifics got shuffled within the family circle. The Tsar, the King of England, the Archduke and the Kaiser and other crowned heads were all cousins to her father, if one or two were a step removed. It was all very confusing for a girl of only ten. Iryna found it was best to just accept, and hope she’d understand more as she grew up.

He seemed amused by her answer, the stiff look on his face shifted, softening his features. Be seated, Princess. he said cordially and motioned to her chair. He took a seat across from her. How was your journey? He didn't seem at ease with her, and she wondered if he were that way with all children. She hadn't spent much time in his presence at family functions; most recently when the Cousins gathered at The Isle of Wight for Cowes Week last year. And due to the death of the new English king's father, the family had not met for Cowes Week this year.

Long, Sire. she said honestly.

Do you know why you are here? He asked.

Nodding, Iryna answered, My father said he wants me to have an education, outside of Russia. He said something about broadening my horizons. She mused in crisp and proper English. I think he just didn't wish to be bothered finding yet one more prince to marry one of his princesses.  She had heard her father and the Tsar at a family function jesting over the predicament of finding husbands who were worthy of their daughters. The Tsar had four, to her father's three daughters, and it was a subject they often found common ground. No one worried about marrying off a prince.

You do understand, you are not going to be addressed as Princess here? the King asked. She had been making a jest, but it seemed to have opened a can of worms.

Father said, I am to live my life here as the daughter of your court envoy and his wife. Iryna repeated what she'd been told, then added. However, I don't really understand why.

King George frowned, For your own protection.

We are not at war, Iryna objected.

God willing, we never will be again. the King said. However, to safeguard you from unscrupulous persons, he spread his hands. While you are, in fact, my ward, you will be known by the public you come into contact with as Irene Alexis Landers; the daughter of my envoy; who was born in Russian during the time Landers served in St. Petersburg.

Yes, Sire. she said.

We've picked a nice school for you here in Norfolk. The Hadley Academy for Young Ladies.  He said matter of factly, I think you'll be happy there. Whenever the Landers are in England, which, I fear isn't that often, they will visit you to keep up the cover story of you being their child.

Am I to be at this school year-round? she asked, making a face. Already she was thinking of all that she was going to miss. Skating on the frozen Neva river, sledding in the countryside, hiking and just being one of the young Russian aristocracy that lived in the orbit of the Tsar. She had never thought of herself as privileged, but she had considered herself fortunate to be a Romanov. It was an exceptionally large and remarkably close family, and now it was extremely far away.

No, The King assured her. During the holidays, you will come here and stay on the estate. You shall be able to see my children, your cousins, and keep company with them.

Won't that raise questions, or at least eyebrows?

The Landers live here on the estate, he explained, You will stay in their house, with the servants who know who you are. He stood up, I will, of course, check in on you from time to time. He extended a hand to her, Make us all proud, Irene. She noted his use of the Anglo version of her name. He was telling her without making an order, to get used to it.

Yes, Sire. she took his hand and again curtseyed. She doubted she'd ever be comfortable calling him Cousin George. She was sure she’d never be comfortable calling him Papa if what she suspected was the reason for her being here.

IN THE CARRIAGE OVER to the cottage used by the Landers, Mrs. Landers questioned her. Did His Majesty, the King, inform you about your school?

Only the name, and that it is here in Norfolk.

The woman nodded, It's a very good school. She seemed to want to convey that this was indeed a special honor given to Iryna.

A school is a school, Iryna answered and then sighed. Only later would she learn that she had insulted her hostess, who had recommended the school to the King. She gazed out the window, looking at the grounds of the estate. It was very pretty, and she could not find fault, except it wasn't home. She missed her mother, father, and her older siblings. She missed running in the garden of the little Sophia Palace at Tsarskoye Selo, where the Tsar and other nobles kept homes. That was the place Iryna considered home, even though her parents and older siblings preferred the St. Petersburg house.  She missed her cousins, the young Grand Duchesses, with whom she spent most of her time in the summer. Their gardens were so close that if one tossed a stone, you would surely have struck a royal. Although no one in the family would be so thoughtless as to toss anything that could harm one particular royal, the Tsarivich.

Iryna was jarred out of her reverie by the carriage coming to a halt. She looked out of the window to see a lovely cottage. Welcome home, Irene. Ambassador Landers said. Standing in the door waiting for them were several servants. They were hand chosen by the King's security people to serve the ambassador as he hosted the young Russian Princess.         

Irene, Mrs. Landers reminded, You must remember to speak only English while you are here.

Yes, she nodded, I will remember. It wasn't like she spoke Russian often, most of the royal family either spoke English or French to each other. She had picked up Russian from some of the servants, a fact that would have scandalized her mother, Princess Natasha.

You have only a fortnight before you will be going to the school, Mrs. Landers said.  And we will be off on our next assignment.

Will you be returning for Christmas? Iryna heard the note of slight desperation, and detested that her voice gave her fears away. It was something she would work on, she vowed. A royal princess wasn't allowed to show fear, she had to appear to be above all that.

Ambassador Landers had yet to step from the carriage, even though the door had been opened for him. Not this year, I'm afraid. He sounded troubled. But you'll be fine. The King has assured me he intends for you to spend a good deal of time visiting with his brood, at York Cottage. Won’t that be lovely?

Iryna had questions, some she didn't dare ask. Why in the name of the saints was she here in England? She already spoke English, quite well, according to her English Governess. Had she done something to cause her father to expel her from the family? Not that she could recall, but then she was only ten. King George and Ambassador Landers had both made a point of mentioning she was going to spend time with the Royal children. Had her jest, about finding her a husband, unwittingly hit a chord?  Were the adults grooming her for one of the English princes? Now she wished she'd paid more attention to the English relations last season at Cowes Week.

Mrs. Landers took her upstairs to the room she was to use when here in the cottage. It was a very pleasant room, with a lovely view. She thanked her hostess. One of the maids came in to help her get settled. Mrs. Landers reminded her that in England, younger children were not expected to dine with the adults. Her dinner would be served to her in the little sitting room attached to her bedroom. Alone. Iryna didn't like the sound of that. At Sophia House she always had the company of her older siblings. There had been occasions, wonderful occasions, when she'd dine with her parents or with the whole family. On occasion, she would even dine with her cousins at the Catherine Palace or at the Alexander or one of the other wonderful houses in the Tsar's village. She had never been alone, the prospect of which she didn't find all that pleasing.

Must I? she asked, knowing she was speaking out of turn.

Must you what?

Dine alone? she asked.

Mrs. Landers appeared scandalized.  Irene, surely you wish to fit in. Her tone told Iryna that the subject was closed. She exited the girl's rooms without so much as a backward glance.

The maid glanced over at her time and again. Iryna sat down in one of the chairs and shook her head. The maid came closer and asked if there was something, she could do for her. Iryna looked up, refusing to let the tears fill her eyes.  No, thank you.

IRYNA LEARNED QUICKLY that there were things she could and should do, and things she could not. Things that she could take to the English school, and things, mostly Russian things, that were to remain in her rooms at the cottage. Her beautiful Russian doll, dressed like an Imperial Guard, was put on a shelf and she was given a doll that an English child would prefer. It was a pretty thing, a bisque doll with large blue glass eyes; but it wasn't hers. She had named the Russian Guard doll after a handsome young Imperial Guard that had caught her eye this past summer. His name was Vasily Borodin, the lesser son of Count Anton Borodin. He had made an impression on more than just Iryna with his handsome face and bold swagger. She had heard her mother comment to her father how dashing the young Borodin was. When the Tsar had given her the Imperial Guard doll for her birthday, she'd impulsively named him after the dashing Cossack. Only to be soundly teased thereafter by her cousin, the Grand Duchess Olga. Iryna suspected that her cousin was also an admirer of the handsome young Cossack.

Her collection of enameled insect jewelry was to be put on a shelf, only to be admired while she was here in the cottage. The collection had started as a whim of her father's when he had watched her chase butterflies in the park at Tsarskoye Selo. He had commissioned a goldsmith to create the likeness of the butterfly and had presented it to an enchanted Iryna. It had been followed dragonflies and ladybugs and other precious little jeweled insects. Each had features that were unique, some of the butterflies had thin sheets of semi-precious stones in their wings. Some of the lady bugs had wings that opened and revealed beautiful work on the body. The Dragonflies had gold and silver filigree work that was enchanting. While not as precious or as costly as the enameled and famous Fabergé eggs the Tsar gave on occasions, they were precious to and cherished by Iryna. She hated having to leave them in this room. It seemed to her an insult to the giver of the gift, her father.

All her personal items, brush, comb, mirror was to be left here and she was given replacements. Everything was to be as if she'd been born Irene Landers, not a Princess of the House of Romanov. Even the garments she wore were English, and she was beginning to hate them. She resented having to change so much in her life to please these adults who were not giving her valid reasons for the abrupt change to her life.

Over and over she'd been instructed, she needed to fit in. She had overheard the ambassador and his wife discussing her one night shortly before she was to take up residence at the school. She hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but the voices below carried up to the hall and she couldn't help but stay to listen when she heard her name. Mrs. Landers was speaking in a harsh and hurt tone; it was then that Iryna learned of her faux pas. The ambassador's wife had taken the words Iryna had spoken as a personal slur. The ambassador assured his wife that the child meant no such affront. However, listening to the rest of the conversation, it didn't seem either was too confident of Iryna's ability to fit in with English Society. Iryna agreed, she was Russian, not English, and this was a silly farce. Although, hearing them say she couldn’t set her Russian stubbornness on edge, and she set out to prove them wrong.

In the days before being taken in a carriage with her school things over to Hadley Academy, she practiced. She was drilled on proper English etiquette, place settings and what foods she was likely to be fed at the school. It was almost a relief when the day arrived, and she was accompanied by her guardians to the institution. Mrs. Landers had insisted she wear the uniform of the school, under the wide collar she hid one of her enamel pins, a ladybug for luck. It was a rebellious act, and that seemed to please Iryna to no end. It was just a touch of Russia, one that she could carry with her at all times, unobserved.

Mrs. Finch, the Headmistress greeted them with reticent enthusiasm. It wasn't that she wasn't happy to have another student, Mrs. Finch was simply a very reserved English lady. Iryna hoped this wasn't the type of behavior expected of her by King George. Yet, looking at the diminutive English lady, she had a wonderful tranquility about her that Iryna found admirable. Mrs. Finch was well spoken, and immensely proud of her establishment. The estate that housed the school had belonged to her late brother, who had never married. He had left the house and grounds for her, and her son who was one of the instructors.  She took the Landers and Iryna on a tour of the house and grounds.

The Hadley Academy housed twenty girls, ages ten through sixteen in a dormitory. Girls at Iryna's age were four to a room, the older girls, if their family could afford were in a private room. There were two full baths to be shared by the girls in the dormitory. There were three large rooms set aside as classrooms, and there was a music room. Iryna thought the garden was beautiful, and she looked forward to long walks.

When they said a very formal goodbye, Iryna found it telling that no one seemed disturbed that there wasn't an emotional farewell. When she'd left Tsarskoye Selo, there had been enough tears to fill the Volga. Her mother, her sisters, her cousins, even the Tsar had a tear in his eyes. English reserve, Iryna told herself, but suspected the Landers were happy to be on their way to a new assignment and leaving the Russian child behind them. She tried not to fault them, after all, she wasn’t their child. She’d found a prayer of thanks to the Russian Saints that she wasn’t.

Mrs. Finch introduced her to one of the instructors and to the three girls who would be her roommates. Miss Martin, girls, this is Irene Landers. She will be joining us.

Miss Martin was a tall, spindly lady with a long-pointed face and wore wire rimmed glasses down low on her exceedingly long nose. The glasses, which were not ornamental, gave her a most studious appearance and some character. She wasn’t pretty and soft, like Iryna’s governess had been. Yet she was pleasant, and delightfully enthusiastic. Her voice was a bit nasally as she greeted her new student. Welcome, Irene. She had exceptionally long hands, her fingers seemed like twigs off a branch, and she ushered Irene to a seat. We are studying the currents of the oceans, she said, handing Iryna a book. Won't you join us?

The style of teaching in this academy was extremely focused. Iryna found listening to the questions the girls asked helped her understand. She raised her hand once or twice to inquire about something on the page. By the time the bell was rung for lunch Iryna found she wasn't feeling out of place. She liked the girls who were her age, Maude Kensington, Jill Freemen, and Mary Hillard were just lovely.

Coming into the dining room wasn't nearly as pleasant an experience. One of the older girls looked her over as if she were an insect. Who's this? she asked in a tone that could have curdled milk. Her dark brown eyes narrowed; her pasty complexion blotched as her cheeks burned with ire.

Maude answered, This is Irene Landers, she's new. from the clip of the answer Iryna gathered that Maude was fearful of this older girl.

Iryna looked at the older girl. Hello. she greeted her.

Don't speak unless you are spoken to, the older girl snipped and glared. But her facial expression changed the moment Mrs. Finch entered the dining room. The ire was replaced by a milder and less angry expression.

The Headmistress took her seat and then the rest of the girls and staff were seated. Maude directed Iryna to a small table for just the girls her age. Older girls were seated with Mrs. Finch and the staff.

Who was that? Iryna asked Maude.

Maude looked over at the more important table, That's Lady Joyce Keynes, her father is in the house of Lords. the girl shook her head, Stay out of her way. She is as mean as a snake.

Thank you for the warning. Iryna whispered.

No talking, girls, Mrs. Finch admonished without looking to see who had spoken. Using the court glance, Iryna gazed over to see a look of triumph on the icy face of Lady Joyce Keynes. Lunch was served and Mrs. Finch read off announcements. Afterward the girls went to their afternoon studies and Iryna didn't see Joyce again until dinner.

Lady Joyce blocked her entry to the dining room, Who are you? she demanded.

The story was so well rehearsed, Iryna said without hesitation. I'm Irene Landers.

I know your name, the older girl said impatiently. What I want to know is, who are you? Who are your people?

My father is Robert Landers, he was Ambassador to the Russian Court of the Tsar for the last twelve years, by order of the late King. Iryna answered.

Lady Joyce made a face, Russia?

Iryna nodded, Yes.

And where is your father now?

Conferring with the new King, His Majesty George the Fifth, on a new assignment.

The answer didn't seem to suit Lady Joyce, I think you're a liar.

I'm sorry.

And I'm going to tell Mrs. Finch I think so. She moved swiftly to the side of the Headmistress as she came down the hall. Mrs. Finch, Mrs. Finch... I think that girl is an imposter. She pointed to Iryna. She says her father was Ambassador to Russia.

Irene's father was the Ambassador to the Russian Court, Mrs. Finch answered without seeming troubled. Irene was born in Russia during his service there.

Lady Joyce glared at Iryna, Then she's not English, and doesn't belong here. Her tone was icy, and hateful.

Mrs. Finch seemed taken aback, Of course she is English; she was born in the consulate, which is English soil in a foreign land.

When the Headmistress had moved to the dining room Joyce pulled Iryna aside, "You're not really English, and your father is only a Diplomate, mine is a Lord... so just you remember who is better."

Iryna smiled a secret smile, 'Prince Alexander Andarivich Romanov is' she mused. In the days that followed, Iryna kept her lucky pin firmly pinned under her collar.

Chapter 2.

Just before the Christmas break, Iryna was called into the Headmistress's office. Lady Joyce sneered at her on her way, saying to anyone who cared to listen, that the little liar must have been found out at last and was about to be kicked out. Iryna had gotten a letter the week before from her guardians, telling her about their new assignment and asking how she was settling in. As far as she knew, the cover story given to everyone was holding.

Tapping politely on the door, she waited until she was bid to enter. Inside, seated at a large desk covered in what looked to be important papers, sat Mrs. Finch. You sent for me, ma`am?

The Headmistress looked up, the constant tranquil expression on her face never seemed to change. We've received a package for you. She pointed to the parcel wrapped in brown paper on her desk. She looked incredibly pleased that something had arrived for Iryna, who