309828-0830-3333

calling out to the men below, a bit more loudly than was necessary, “Are you quite sure it is a
suicide?”
“What else should it be?” answered the bald man. “They are peasants by birth, you know.
Such violence is common in the youth of their class.” By the brusque tone of his voice it was clear he
had not recognized Ella, which was surprising, but perhaps the police, unlike the guard, did not often
come in contact with the imperial family. The quality of the women’s clothes had earned them a
sliver of civility – had they been dressed as servants it’s unlikely they would have been allowed to
remain in the room at all. But the policeman’s tolerance evidently did not stretch so far as to include
extended conversation with civilians, especially female ones.
“It’s odd that the knife is in the girl’s hand,” Tatiana ventured quietly.
“I agree,” said Ella. “Cynthia, please retrieve my camera.”
A quick nod from the other woman, who had remained further back but who now turned to do
her mistress’s bidding. The British had a queer term for such attendants, something like “the women
who stand there” although Tatiana could not think of the precise phrase in the tension of the moment.
When this particular woman had first arrived from London there had been some speculation she might
have been sent by Queen Victoria for purposes of political reconnaissance. Such was the depth of the
paranoia in the court of Tsar Alexander III, that a middle-aged British widow with those odd sort of
spectacles that split the eye in half, making the bottom look much larger than the top, could be
rumored a spy. This reflexive suspicion of outsiders had always struck Tatiana as foolish, but she
supposed the overblown fears of the court were why her husband held his present post. Why she
slept on feather mattresses instead of straw mats.
“I take photographs,” Ella said to Tatiana, a bit unnecessarily and even a bit defensively. “A
camera is a fine way to document the details of one’s own life, is it not? But please, continue with
your thoughts. Why do you find it odd that the knife is in the girl’s hand?”
“If it were a suicide pact between lovers,” Tatiana said, “you would think she would die first,
and then him, that he would not leave her to…”
“Quite,” said Ella. “And will you come stand beside me?”
She knows the acoustics of this room as well as I do, Tatiana thought, as she swiftly moved
closer to Ella. She knows that even a softly spoken conversation between two women on the stairs
has the potential to echo through the entire theater. She’s one of the aristocrats who most sincerely
support the arts, which is probably why she also knew the name of the dancers.