And that became not only the most treasured memory I have of my mother but one of the last. In a few short months our united family, which had always been bound with love, was torn apart by epidemic. Diphtheria came suddenly and mysteriously, first taking my baby sister, May, just four years old, whose loss alone nearly killed Mama. Indeed, it weakened her so that she, too, fell ill, and though the doctors kept the inhalers filled with chlorate of potash to ease her suffering, she was soon taken by the same disease. My own pain was quite unimaginable, for I was not allowed to look after my poor suffering mother in her final hours nor even to kiss her farewell-for my own safety, I was kept quite apart from my beloveds in their illness. Needless to say, grief overtook my father, and for years thereafter our palace was all but dark.

But then everything changed completely when I came to Russia as the bride of my father’s first cousin, a Romanov-Grand Duke Sergei Aleksandrovich, son of Aleksander II and brother of Aleksander III-and it was at that time that I began to live a life of pomp and wealth beyond the reach of any other earthly kingdom.

And a mere nine years after my own royal marriage there I was in the Kremlin’s Cathedral of the Assumption, no doubt in my mind that the Russian Imperial Court was the most magnificent in all of Europe. My dear Grandmama had forever derided Russians for their extravagance, but Nicky’s coronation, which was taking place right before my eyes on that beautiful day in May, 1896, was the most glorious spectacle I had ever witnessed. As I stood amid a sea of kings and queens, princes and princesses and countless diplomats, the sunshine streaked like golden spears into the smoky, incense-thick church, and the dresses and uniforms, the jewels and the sabers all sparkled and danced with light. Candles burned everywhere, golden icons of saints stared down upon us, and I dabbed a tear from my left eye. Before us an incredible event had just unfolded: young Nicky, twenty-six years old and the new husband of my younger sister, had by the grace of God been anointed His Imperial Highness Nikolai II, Emperor and Autocrat of All the Russias.

Nicky then ordered that the Imperial Crown be handed him, which he took directly from the hands of the very important Metropolitan Palladius of Sankt Peterburg. By tradition Russian tsars crowned themselves, signifying there was no man of any rank or priest of any import between Tsar and God. And with his own hands Nicky did exactly that, crowning himself with the great Crown, that blazing masterpiece covered in some 5,000 smaller diamonds, dozens of larger ones, brilliant pearls, and, of course, that magnificent uncut ruby-the world’s largest of 415 carats-atop all. From that very moment, Nicky’s only responsibility was to answer to God and God alone.

Next, in a surprisingly strong and steady voice Nicky commanded that the other insignia-the Imperial Scepter which held the famed Orlov Diamond of 200 carats and the Imperial Orb of gold-be given over.

The pale, grayed Metropolitan Palladius, dressed in blazing gold robes sewn with thousands of pearls and wearing atop his head a gold mitre decorated with diamonds and rubies, held forth the insignia as he proclaimed in a booming voice, “Take this Orb and this Scepter, which are the visible manifestations of the Autocratic power the Almighty gives You to rule over Your People and to lead them to Prosperity.”

Nicky took the Scepter in his right hand, the Orb in his left, and seated himself upon his diamond-covered throne. A few moments later, he rose and passed the regalia to his aids. With tears in my eyes, I watched as Nicky commanded Alicky, my sister nine years younger, to come forth, which she did, kneeling upon a crimson cushion with a border of golden lace. With heart-stopping majesty Nicky then removed his Crown and touched it to the forehead of his beloved consort. Once the Crown was back upon his own head, he turned again to my sister and laid the regalia upon her-the Purple, the diamond-covered Chain of the Order of St. Andrew, and finally the Empress’s Crown of some 2,000 diamonds. Immediately the choir burst into song, wishing the Tsar and Tsaritsa long life and long reign, 101 guns were fired into the sky, and it seemed as if heaven had opened and was pouring its divinity down to earth, such were the waves of glory and beauty and wonder.

Once Nicky had again seated himself on his diamond-covered throne and Alicky upon hers-Ivan the Terrible’s, actually-we members of the Royal Family were allowed to approach the dais not simply to pay our respects but to pledge our fealty to our country and her Sovereign. Minnie-the Widow Empress Maria Fyodorovna-went first, a diamond crown upon her own head, her train stretching forever behind her, and tears by the bucket streaming from her eyes. Of course, this made me cry all the more, for we all knew that her tears were not only of joy and pride but surely of pain, for Minnie had lost her husband, Aleksander III, just over a year earlier.

Everywhere there were court gowns of gold and silver, jewels of red and blue and green, countless diamonds of the first water, and we proceeded by rank, everything being so strictly laid out. My own court gown, the train of regulation length-which is to say the length of nearly three men-was of creamy velvet embroidered with gold thread. And as I approached Nicky, I swept a curtsey as graceful as any ballerina. I could feel that dear boy’s beautiful blue eyes upon me, his warmth, his love. Then I went to Alicky. So that she might be close by me, I had long prayed and done so much for her to find a husband in Russia, and I had succeeded beyond expectation, for here in my new land she had found the truest of love with her Nicky dear. Now as nearly everyone’s eyes fell upon me to see would I kiss the hand of my younger sister, I took her soft fingers in mine and with real joy pressed my lips to them, and it was stunning and sweet, the love flowing between us. In a rush of emotion, I pledged myself entirely to her service and to that of our new Motherland. At that moment I was quite certain that no country was greater or brighter or more blessed than our beloved Russia.

That night, when the vast crowds gathered round the mighty Kremlin walls, their Empress Aleksandra Fyodorovna-my little Alicky-was led to a prominent bastion along the Kremlin walls and instructed to push down upon a particular button. Much to the joy and utter delight of Court and peasant alike, the miracle of electric illumination burst forth in the dark night as the thick walls and formidable towers of the Kremlin glowed for the first time ever with the dazzling magic of thousands upon thousands of electric bulbs. It was all glory, all power, and the future of our Holy Mother Russia seemed boundless and plentiful, stable and assured.

Indeed, none of us could have begun to think, let alone imagine, that this God-Anointed Tsar would ever, ever be pulled away.