A Razor Wrapped in Silk

8 In the red drawing room

Prince Naryskin the elder felt the heat on his face as the fire in the red drawing room flared, tongues of orange licking greedily over the small bundle of letters he had just fed into them. The paper edges crackled and disintegrated. Multiple layers of words, written in her unexpectedly regular hand, were briefly revealed and quickly consumed. It seemed that the last remnants of her personality were contained in the strokes and whorls of ink, and that this was a further destruction of her, a second more final murder. He watched the fine black smoke curl and rise from the letters, her soul set free; he felt it in his eyes, drawing tears, and tasted it in his throat, its harshness somehow welcome.

The fine red silk ribbon around it was the last part of the bundle to catch. Wielding the fine tongs with dangerous clumsiness, Prince Naryskin piled burning coals over the flimsy ashes, burying this last vestige of what had passed between them.

‘F-father?’

The prince stood sharply. ‘What?’

‘It looked like you were … b-burning something,’ observed his son, suppressing his stammer by slowing down his words. He closed the door behind him as noiselessly as he had opened it.

‘It was nothing. I was just stirring the coals.’

‘With the … t-tongs?’

‘Does one not?’ The elder prince bent and replaced the guilty object on the stand.

His son crossed the red drawing room to join him at the European-style hearth. He peered suspiciously into the heavy marble frame, then picked up the poker and stirred the coals himself, as if to demonstrate how it was done.

‘I find it strangely comforting,’ said the elder prince, to his son’s curved back.

‘Why do you need c-c-comforting?’

‘Perhaps I was thinking of you.’

The younger prince straightened. ‘Those magistrates are looking for you. I have them outside.’

‘Did we not give them a study in which to conduct their investigations?’

‘It seems they cannot be c-c-contained there.’

It was a moment before the elder prince replied: ‘Where is your mother?’

‘She has taken to her bed, I believe. The evening has placed a very g-great strain upon her nerves.’

‘Of course.’ The elder prince fell into a contemplative silence.

‘The … magistrates?’

‘Very well. Show them in.’

‘Prince Nikolai Sergeevich,’ said Porfiry as he and Virginsky were admitted by Prince Sergei. ‘Why did you not inform us that the Tsarevich and Count Tolstoy had been here this evening?’

‘I did not wish to confuse you.’

Porfiry’s face flushed almost as red as his surroundings. ‘That is very considerate of you. I might say a little too considerate. I regret that you allowed them to depart before the police arrived.’

‘It is inconceivable that I should detain a minister of state. It is beyond inconceivable that I should detain the Tsar’s son. Their presence here need not concern you. They have nothing to do with your investigation.’

‘Why was the Tsarevich here? His political position is well known. I do not see him as a natural supporter of such a cause.’

‘The wellbeing of all his future subjects is naturally close to his heart.’

‘So he was here as a benefactor?’

‘What other capacity could there be?’

‘I wondered if he had an interest in any of the performers. Yelena Filippovna, for example.’

‘Your line of questioning is impertinent,’ said the elder Prince Naryskin.

‘And insulting,’ added the younger.

‘But I am afraid it is necessary, and permissible. Under the new laws, even the Tsarevich could be brought before a court to testify.’

‘Preposterous.’

‘I am surprised, sir,’ Porfiry confided to the elder prince. ‘I would have taken you for a supporter of the Tsar’s reforms.’

‘And so I am, but I had not imagined that it would be used as a means to harass one’s friends.’

‘It is not a question of harassing. However, if we are to fulfil our duties as investigators, we must be permitted to ask what questions we will of whomsoever we wish.’

‘Surely you have asked all the c-c-questions you need?’ cut in the younger prince heatedly. ‘All you have to do is c-c-catch Mizinchikov and then you will have your murderer.’

‘No doubt. But to investigate a crime properly one must understand what led up to it, which requires us to take statements from everyone involved.’

‘But the Tsarevich is not involved.’ The elder Prince Naryskin charged his assertion with absolute authority. ‘And it is nothing short of treasonable of you to suggest that he is.’

‘His presence here involves him.’

‘Then, sir, I say that he was not here, and whoever says that he was is a liar.’

‘Ivan Iakovich Bakhmutov says that he was here.’

‘All you need to know about that man is that he was born a Jew. He has changed his name and his religion. Burnstein, that’s his true name. Can you trust such a man?’

‘He describes himself as a friend of the Tsarevich’s.’

‘Nonsense. The Tsarevich would never be on friendly terms with a Jew. You know that.’

‘You will swear, under oath, that the Tsarevich was not here?’

‘Of course.’

‘But you just admitted to me a moment ago that he was!’

‘Be careful what you accuse me of, sir. A magistrate may be stripped of his office. And then he is just a man. It becomes a case of one man’s word against another’s. And indeed, of a gentleman’s word against a Jew’s.’

‘I have a feeling you are about to tell me that you count the Tsar amongst your closest friends.’

‘Of course. That goes without saying.’

Porfiry turned to the younger prince. ‘Prince Sergei Nikolaevich, allow me to express my deepest condolences. Please believe me when I say that I shall devote all my energies and all the resources at my disposal to apprehending the murderer of your fiancee.’

‘M-m-mi-zinchikov.’

Porfiry inclined his head respectfully. ‘The questions I ask may be painful, but be assured that they are framed only with that purpose in mind.’

‘It will not bring her … back.’

‘Why — do you believe — did Captain Mizinchikov kill Yelena Filippovna?’

‘I c-c-cannot say.’

‘Jealousy perhaps? Was he in love with her too?’

‘His … way of loving … was not … not … civilised.’

The answer prompted Porfiry to look again at the younger prince. ‘Had she given herself to him?’

‘How d-dare you suggest such a thing!’

‘How long had you been engaged?’

‘We announced our engagement two … days ago.’

‘Two da-a-ays ago?’ Porfiry drew out the word in a singsong. ‘Forgive me. Before that she was … unattached?’

‘We were very much in love.’

‘But she had other lovers.’ Porfiry did not frame it as a question. It was a private thought voiced.

‘I must protest!’ put in the elder Prince Naryskin. ‘Have you come here with the express purpose of driving a knife into the open wound of my son’s grief?’

‘No,’ answered Porfiry almost thoughtfully. ‘Rather, my purpose is to learn the truth. Before two days ago, Yelena Filippovna was not engaged to your son. I wish to know if she was amorously involved with anyone else at that time.’

‘M-m-mizinchikov,’ spat out the younger prince. ‘She was engaged to Mizinchikov. She broke it off to become engaged to me.’

‘One day she was engaged to Captain Mizinchikov, the next day she was engaged to you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Thank you. You see, it was painful but necessary. Now I am able to understand more clearly why Captain Mizinchikov might have killed Yelena Filippovna.’

‘What difference does it make why he did it? He did it. That’s all you need to know.’

‘A jury may need to know more, however,’ concluded Porfiry with a strained bow.

*

‘These skin-deep liberals are worse than the reactionaries.’ Porfiry’s remark, made under his breath as the door to the red drawing room closed behind them, drew a look of surprise from Virginsky. Before he could reply, however, the door re-opened and the younger Prince Naryskin followed them out. The rigours of the evening showed in his face, which had a rawness to it, as if it had been struck repeatedly. His eyes, though, seemed possessed of a cold resolve.

He closed the door carefully and drew himself upright.

‘This is where it g-gets you.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ said Porfiry.

‘My father’s … liberal ideas. He is regretting them now. The Tsar is to blame for much. His insane and unnecessary reforms … he has opened a Pandora’s … box.’

‘There are many who share that view, I believe.’

‘The labouring c-c-classes need flogging, not education.’

‘You were not yourself a supporter of Maria Petrovna’s school?’

‘I allowed myself to be … p-p-persuaded to lend my support.’

‘By whom?’

‘Lena. She was at school with Maria Petrovna. Although she had not seen her for many years, she had followed her philanthropic … c-career. I believe that she saw it as a way of making amends, to involve us all in supporting this project.’

‘For what did she have to make amends?’

‘I don’t know. For her life, perhaps. It was strange. This seemed to be a … c-c-cause very … c-close to her heart, although she was reticent about renewing her a-c-c-quaintance with Maria Petrovna. She seemed to want to work behind the scenes.’

‘Although tonight she was to have taken the leading role on the stage, was she not?’

‘Yes, well, that was d-different. She always did love theatrics. As for this evening, I was against it … from the beginning. I knew it would end … b-badly.’

‘But surely you did not know it would end with Yelena Filippovna’s death?’

‘She had asked for it.’

‘Good heavens, Sergei Nikolaevich! Think what you are saying! Can you be serious?’

‘I mean it c-c-quite literally. In fact, she demanded it. She asked me to k-k-kill her. Two days ago. And when I refused, when instead I asked her to marry me, she … she must have made the same demand of M-m-mm … of him.’

‘Mizinchikov?’

‘She was a troubled and unhappy woman. I … foolishly … be-believed I c-c-could make her happy.’

‘She wanted to die?’

‘It was the only freedom left to her.’

‘I don’t understand. Why do you say that?’

‘She was a woman.’

‘But not all women are driven to desire their own deaths.’

‘Not all are as c-c-consummately … logical as Lena.’

‘She sounds to have been an extraordinary woman. But tell me, why did you not say this just now?’

‘I did not want my father to n-n-know. He has always been against my engagement to Yelena. It has been his c-c-custom to blacken her name to me. I did not want to allow him this final triumph.’

Porfiry angled his head sharply as he considered the prince. He gave a slow nod. ‘I see. Yes. I think I can understand that.’ To Virginsky, he added: ‘Pavel Pavlovich, can you understand that?’

Virginsky gave a dismissive grunt.

‘We are all sons,’ said Porfiry, finger-drawing a loop in the air to link them. ‘Now tell me, how is her sister — Aglaia Filippovna, is it not?’

‘The doctor has sedated her. It is important that she rests.’

‘Her testimony will hold the key to this case, it is clear.’

‘I only hope that the shock has not destroyed the balance of her mind. She was not the most stable of individuals, even before this.’

‘I take it that the family have been informed? She should have her mother with her,’ said Porfiry. ‘Perhaps it would be as well for us to talk to the parents?’

‘There is no family. Their parents are both d-dead.’

Porfiry rocked backwards as he took in the information. ‘Tragedy upon tragedy. We shall leave her to her physic-induced oblivion. It is perhaps the last peace she will know in this world. Pavel Pavlovich, I fear that there is little more we can do here tonight.’

‘What about the rest of the witnesses?’

‘Everyone from whom we have taken a statement may be allowed to go home.’

‘You do not wish to cross-examine them yourself?’

‘I am content to rely on the statements you and others have taken.’ A terse impatience accelerated Porfiry’s words. And then he was left all at once stooped and exhausted. ‘There is a limit to the suffering one can endure in a single day.’