Jonathan Broughton: The Russian White: A Victorian Thriller

“Of course not,” James scoffed.

A foolish question, worth a try. He might have struck lucky.

Their tired faces, streaked with ash, gleamed white in the dim light. An odd couple, the actor and the society lady; she, wilful, impetuous, led by her heart, look how she clung to him; the young man, easy going, optimistic, an opportunist, good looking, even, when cleaned up; their ignorance heartfelt, if not genuine. He changed direction with his next question.

“Why did you help the Russians? What was in it for you?”

James beamed a wide toothy grin. “Money of course. They paid well.”

“That makes you a traitor, you know that don’t you? Great Britain is at war with Russia and your actions will be seen as assisting the enemy during hostilities. A charge of treason which can have you hanged.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Isobel’s eyes flashed with fury. “You knew exactly what the Russians were doing. You knew they were closing in on the diamond. I heard you talking about it in the Club. I heard you say that they died under questioning. That makes you guilty too because you knew what they were doing, but because you wanted to keep the precious diamond safe you didn’t admit it. At least we didn’t murder anyone.”

She was like a wild lioness with a cub, passionate and protective. It convinced him. They had no knowledge of the diamond’s whereabouts. However, the charge of treason stood. How hard would she fight for her freedom?

“Your word against mine,” he conceded. “I am the Prime Minister. In a court of law, who will the jury be more willing to believe?”

“But what happens when the diamond reaches Russia?” she countered. “What happens when they reveal it to the world and tell everyone the history behind it? What happens to your precious Brotherhood then?”

She was right. With the diamond restored, the Russians would waste no time in exposing him as a liar and a cheat, if that’s what they chose to do, and such public duplicity would topple the government, ruin him, and The Brotherhood.

Pointless chasing after shadows. He had to admit that the diamond was lost, unless; “Did the Russians know you found the glass diamond?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Did they see it?”

“No.”

James draped his arm across her shoulders. “She told you, William used it as a snare to catch us.”

“Did the Russians already have the real diamond when you found the glass one?”

“I don’t know,” she sighed. “They found it here in Parklands, but I don’t know when.”

“Who found it?”

She glared back, and her lips tightened. “I told you, he didn’t tell me his name.”

“And yet you travelled with him all the way back to London; do you really expect me to believe that?”

“Believe what you like.” She flicked her hand as if to dismiss his doubt. “I can’t tell you anymore.”

“Did William know his name?”

“He might have done.” She glanced up. “I’m sure Terrington did.”

“Ah yes. I haven’t seen him.” He half-turned as if he expected the man to be standing at the door. “Did he escape with you?”

“You won’t find him.” Her voice flattened into a dull monotone. “He’s dead. So is William, and the Russian Ambassador’s wife, and Konstantin Raevsky.”

The shadows jumped as the lantern light flickered. He clasped his hands to stop them shaking. “You saw this?”

“Yes.”

He had assumed, up until now, that they had escaped, like James and Isobel, and that he would need to catch them. Even now, the guards combed the grounds on a search. “All of them? All of them dead?”

She nodded and frowned, perplexed that he didn’t believe her. He lowered his head out of the light to conceal his shock. “I see.” He needed fresh air, and walked to the stable door.

The death of the Russian Ambassador’s wife—was—when it came to breaking the news to the public, he considered the diplomatic implications—was—unfortunate; a tragic accident. Since her passing, he warmed to his theme, he had viewed unseen documents that suggested she had recruited William Hunt as a Russian spy.

This young industrialist, at the heart of British affairs, had unlimited access to the plans for the mobilisation of forces in the Holy Lands; plans, it appears, that he passed on to the Russians. Yes, this might work.

A clandestine meeting at Parklands had gone horribly wrong, when fire broke out and, unable to escape, they had perished, along with other collaborators. Plausible, and the shattered remains of Parklands, clear evidence.

It secured The Brotherhood’s anonymity, and his parliamentary position. Even if the Russians went public with the diamond, he might still bluff his way out.

But Isobel; for the second time that night, murder flickered at the edges of his mind. She caused scandals, and the public had an insatiable appetite for such thrills. If you make enough noise, people take notice. And with James by her side who, he guessed, like most actors, craved publicity, their noise might be as loud as trumpets.

To hope for her silence was a dangerous risk. It left too much to chance. Her reunion with James needed sweetening, and a special present might do it, but with demands that he wanted honoured.

He approached them, and they hugged each other close. He reached into the inside pocket of his frock coat and extracted a sheaf of parchments tied with blue ribbon. He held them up for her to see.

“These are acquisition papers,” he began. “I confiscated William’s factories when he betrayed The Brotherhood. I don’t suppose I shall ever find out if he was a traitor or not, because the Russians have the diamond and he is dead. I cannot hold onto these as ransom anymore. So, I am going to destroy them. William’s assets will be put into your name, Isobel.”

He thought she might thank him, or at least acknowledge her gratitude, but she said nothing.

“You will be a very wealthy young woman,” he conceded.

Didn’t she care? Did James mean more to her than wealth? Such innocence might be touching, if it wasn’t so naive. No matter, what he was about to say next was more important.

“Such largesse comes at a price.” Her breathing quickened; now he had her attention.

“I want to make this clear. By destroying these documents, I expect you, both of you, to stay silent about the events that have happened here tonight. You will never talk about the history, or the recent fate of the Russian White.” He wanted no misunderstanding. “If the story of the Russian White becomes public, I shall hold you and James responsible. I will expose both of you as liars and traitors, and see to it that you are dealt with by the full weight of the law. I mean this. Do you understand?”

It was done. Whether they understood or not was irrelevant. He had made the position clear and the warning had been given. They heard what he would do, and they would find it hard to forget, even in their weakened state. The matter was closed.

He ripped up the documents and scattered the torn pages across the stable floor. He unhitched the lantern, and then faced them one last time. “I hope, for all our sakes that we never meet again.”

The night ended and the eastern sky brightened as the wind died. Heavy clouds threatened rain. The fire burned with diminished fury, and the staff sifted through the charred remains for anything that might be salvaged.

The Chief passed from group to group as he searched for familiar faces. Isobel’s story, he concluded, had been correct; William and the Russians were dead. He climbed into his carriage, where Hood and Buffrey waited in silence, and at his signal, they began the journey back to London.