her own name was gone. But she clung to him for dear life, as they went back to the hotel. It was as though she were terrified that he might change his mind again.
They spent two more days in Paris, and then took the train to Switzerland. They had decided to spend their honeymoon there, and she admitted to Clayton that she wanted to see Pierre Gilliard again before she left.
It took two days to reach Bern, with the train stopping endlessly everywhere, but as she woke up on the last day, her heart skipped a beat. The snowcapped mountains greeted her, and for a moment, it looked as though she were back in Russia.
Gilliard met them at the train, and they went home to have lunch with his wife, who had been the Romanov children's nurse. She embraced Zoya as she cried and Clayton listened as they reminisced over lunch. It was all so painful, and yet they shared such tenderness, such happy memories.
“When will you go back?” Clayton asked quietly as Zoya went to look at photographs with Gilliard's wife.
“As soon as we feel strong again. Life in Siberia was very hard on my wife. I don't want to take her back with me. Gibbes and I have agreed to meet, and see if there is any more we can find out.
“Does it matter now?” Clayton was honest with him. It all seemed to be over now, and there was no point clinging to the painful past. He had told Zoya as much, but Gilliard seemed to be obsessed with it. It was even more real to him, but it was understandable, he had been with the Tsar's children for twenty years, and they were his entire life.
“It matters to me. I won't rest until I know everything, until I find any of them who survived.” It was a new thought.
“Is there any chance of that?”
“I don't believe there is. But I must be certain of it, or I shall never rest.”
“You loved them very much.”
“We all did. They were an extraordinary family, even some of the guards in Siberia softened when they got to know them. They had to keep changing them in order to keep things rough. It frustrated the Bolsheviks no end. Nicholas was kind to everyone, even to those who had destroyed his empire. I don't think he ever forgave himself for abdicating to them. He was always reading history, and he told me that one day, the world would say of him that he had failed … that he had given up … I think it broke his heart.” It was an insight into the man the others would never know. A glimpse back to a special time that would never come again, for any of them. The grandeur of what they had all known dwarfed even what he had to offer Zoya in New York. But he knew she'd be happy there. She would never be cold or hungry again. At least he had that to give. He had already thought of buying a house for her. His own brick mansion on lower Fifth Avenue suddenly seemed much too small.
They spent three days in Bern, and then he took her to Geneva and Lausanne.
They got back to Paris in late February, and they took the Paris to New York. She sailed from Le Havre on a beautiful day, her four smokestacks standing tall. She was a beautiful ship, the pride of the French Line, and she had sat idle for three years, since she was launched halfway through the war.
Zoya was like an excited child for most of the trip. She had gained back a little weight and her eyes had come alive again. They had dinner at the captain's table several times, and they danced late into the night. She almost felt guilty for having so much fun. She had left so many people behind in her lost world, but Clayton wouldn't let her think of it now. He only wanted her to look ahead, to the new life they would share. He talked of the house they would build, the people she would meet, the children they would have. She had her whole life ahead of her. She was not even twenty years old, and life had only just begun for her.
And the night before they reached New York, she gave him the wedding gift she had been saving for him. It was still wrapped in her grandmother's scarf. And