by Anna Lord
“Pure hubris,” added the doctor sadly. “Ironic that he was probably motivated by status, and status is what will now be lost to him!”
“Isadora would have done it for the power and the money,” condemned Moriarty, wondering how he could profit from the dirty Turkish Baths business and take on several rich clients for the one hit. It would be the most lucrative and enjoyable contract of his career.
The Countess recalled what Major Nash said about the parallel between the Diogenes Club and the world’s bankers. The thought of having someone like Isadora Klein pulling the strings of the primus baro (de Merville) was quite terrifying. But she was mindful of Mycroft’s wrath should she mention it. “I think exile from the Diogenes is the best way to go. Violet will not have her matrimonial prospects ruined by scandal. Now, should I go on and outline my theory on the death of the princess?”
The five men, all slouching in their chairs, suddenly sat up. They had presumed the business that brought them to Longchamps had been satisfactorily settled. They had long forgotten about the body in the bath.
“I bite my friends to save them,” she reminded, holding out her hand for the ‘J’ cufflink which Sherlock extracted from his pocket. “Here goes,” she said, placing the cufflink on the small table that centred the seating area where it glittered in the flickering firelight.
“The princess had numerous lovers - Damery, de Merville, Cazenove - and that is just for starters. This ‘J’ cufflink which Sherlock found in her bedroom could have belonged to any one of them: James, Josiah, Jonathan, Jantzen, John.”
Several men shifted awkwardly in their seats but chose not to call attention to themselves by voicing a protest.
“It could also represent the patronymic Ivanovych as in Prince Sergei Ilych Ivanovych Malamtov. Ivan is the Russian version of John. However there is no letter J in the Cyrillic alphabet but there is in Serbian and the princess came originally from Belgrade. A gift to her husband? This is a solid gold cufflink. Prince Sergei wears only gold jewellery. He may have visited his wife’s bedroom on the day she died and dropped this cufflink. In fact, that is what I think happened.
I believe this cufflink was dropped the day she died because hotel rooms of the standard of Clarges are cleaned thoroughly and yet this valuable cufflink was not swept up. I agree with Sherlock that when the husband entered his wife’s bedroom, having procured his own key, he discovered her in bed with a lover, but not one of the men named. The princess also slept with women which I was slow to recognize, and I thank the colonel for pointing it out too me. I think the person in her bed that morning was Isadora Klein.”
She waited for the gasps to subside.
“Why do I think so? Isadora Klein had a Matryoshka doll in her possession. I presumed Major Nash gave her the doll. I presumed the major had slept with the princess and thus acquired for himself a doll. I did not think Isadora acquired the doll for herself. But I now believe she did. I apologise to Major Nash for suspecting him of lying.
The major also castigated me for thinking Mycroft slept with the princess. He was right again to do so and it forced me to revise my thinking. Mycroft, like Diogenes, had long done away with the artificiality of human relationships. That is not to say Mycroft does not make use of people. When one ‘knows no trade but that of governing men’ one makes good use of them, including the female of the species.
Mycroft’s concern for the death of the princess hinted that she was most likely a double agent, working for the Russians and the British, reporting specifically to Mycroft. That is why she had numerous high profile lovers, including her own estranged husband, and that is why Mycroft, of all the men involved with the princess, had no doll of his own. He therefore purloined the doll on the dressing table, a Matryoshka doll that was warped and peeling as a result of being immersed for hours in warm water.
Mycroft wanted a keepsake, though he is no sentimentalist, no romantic, but sometimes we are touched and we feel a close attachment to someone that defies rational explanation, and when that person dies suddenly we are bereft. We even choose their last resting place for them. We choose a place which meant so much to us and was associated with, let’s say, a small dacha where many hours were spent in their exclusive company exchanging secrets.”
Again, the Countess paused for the five men to take in the full extent of the words falling from her lips. Silence filled the room except for the crackling of the fire.
“Mycroft called me in when he found the princess dead in her bath because he was genuinely baffled for the first time in his life. Here was a woman who he felt a close attachment to, a woman who was working as a double agent and risking her life for him, a woman who was suddenly dead.
Who had killed her and why?
We have the bottle of laudanum, the jewels, the Matryoshka doll, the baby doll in the vulva – this is not an assassination. This is deeply personal.
I think that when the prince arrived unannounced in the hotel room and found Isadora in his wife’s bed a threesome may have taken place. The prince was a man of carnal appetite and so was Isadora. The princess was hardly likely to object since one was her lover and the other her husband. She must have been a woman of carnal appetite too, going by the number of lovers she juggled.
When Prince Sergei claimed he did not meet Isadora until the day of the ball it struck me as odd that he said ‘day’ not ‘night’. Most people would say ‘night of the ball’. But, you see, if he had met her that morning that’s exactly what he would say. That is why they could arrange an assignation in his carriage so easily. It was not the first time they had enjoyed a physical tryst. And again here at Longchamps they continued the mutual love affair with ease.
So, who killed the princess?
If what I say so far is a true assessment then it could only have been suicide.
Remember the Matryoshka doll in the bath and the hidden baby doll - a message to Mycroft that she is with child. But she must have had time to arrange it. And the jewels? Here was a princess. Not conceited, but proud of her beauty and status. She wanted to be seen in the best light even in death.
Most likely the prince stayed to watch over his wife and it was he who placed the bottle of laudanum on the floor of the bath. Recall, he already knew about the death before he arrived to speak to Mycroft that afternoon. He did not need to see the body because he had already seen it. And the birch bark? It was a loving gesture. Perhaps the princess had some soft white bark from a tree that meant something to her, as some women keep a lock of their lover’s hair. She may even have asked him to arrange the peelings in her hair or she may have done it herself.
I believe that when Isadora left, and husband and wife discussed the unborn baby the princess was carrying, the prince refused to acknowledge it as his own. He knew he was infertile. She must have known it too. Other people may also have known it. There was no pulling the wool over people’s eyes. And the prince was proud. Some men do not wish to raise other men’s bastards.
I believe the prince thought the father of her child was Mycroft. But he was wrong. Mycroft loved the princess but he was not her lover. If he had been her lover he would have had a doll and I doubt he would have shared her with other men, no matter how beneficial it may have been to Queen and country.
The morality of our Age is such that a middle-aged woman, married into a royal Russian house, cannot have baby out of wedlock and remain in society. It is as simple as that. And who was the father of her child? It could have been any number of men. We will never know. If all her lovers came forward to claim paternity the scandal would have been unthinkable. The princess understood she had no choice. Embracing death was her salvation.
She was at peace with her decision.
She was at peace when she died.”
No one dared look at Mycroft and no one dared speak. When a Victoria sponge was wheeled in with the morning tea trolley everyone gave thanks for the distraction.
Happy Birthday was sung three times.
Major
Nash, who had been the only man not to give a birthday present to the Countess, raced away and returned a few moments later with a small but lovely rosewood sewing box.
“Open it,” he urged, watching keenly as she lifted back the lid.
Her obvious delight at the contents wiped the smirk off Moriarty’s face.
“A Remington Derringer!” she cried with delight, recognising the double-barrelled muff pistol that had sat in Mycroft’s bedside drawer.
They sang Happy Birthday once more and when Mycroft called for a bottle of French champagne, the Countess knew all was forgiven, and that unlike Diogenes she would not need a lamp to help her find an honest man.
She had five of them in her life, and though they might occasionally bite, they did it because – dare she say it – they loved her in their own inimitable way.