The King of Diamonds. Simon Tolkien

to require. Katya was a waif of a person, light as a feather. Titus laid her down softly on the sofa, keeping the cushion under her head to act as a pillow.

      ‘Shouldn’t we call a doctor?’ asked Vanessa.

      ‘No, it’s not necessary. She has no fever. Come, you can see,’ said Titus, beckoning Vanessa over and placing her hand on his niece’s forehead. He was right. It felt cool, and she was breathing easily.

      ‘This has happened before,’ he went on after a moment. ‘It is too little sleep that is the problem. You English have a word for it.’

      ‘Insomnia?’

      ‘Yes, insomnia. It is terrible for my Katya. She goes for many hours without sleeping and it makes her crazy. This evening my sister-in-law . . . no, is that right? The sister of my brother-in-law is my sister-in-law? Yes?’

      ‘Yes, I suppose so,’ said Vanessa, smiling in spite of herself. He often spoke to her like this, like a student of English asking questions of a teacher, and she sometimes felt that that he was half-teasing her, that he knew the answers to his questions before he asked them. Like now for instance. But she didn’t mind. She knew that he was trying to calm her down, and she appreciated his thoughtfulness.

      ‘Thank you,’ he said with a small bow. ‘So this evening my sister-in-law, Jana, tried to give Katya a sedative to help her sleep, but Katya struggled and became very angry. It is not fair because Jana was only trying to help.’

      Vanessa had never met Franz’s sister. Usually she and Titus met in town, and Jana had never come downstairs on the occasions when Vanessa had visited Blackwater Hall. In fact, looking back, Vanessa couldn’t remember Titus ever referring to his sister-in-law before. It had been like she didn’t exist. In other circumstances she would have liked to ask him more about Jana, but now wasn’t the time.

      ‘And yet it is not Katya’s fault either,’ said Titus, looking down sadly at his niece. ‘She has never recovered from poor Ethan’s death, you know.’

      ‘Yes, I was remembering that that’s when I last met her. It was here at the dinner party you gave after the trial.’

      ‘The night when I first met you. A night I will never forget,’ said Titus, bending over and kissing Vanessa’s hand. She smiled again, but went on with her thought.

      ‘She was so angry. That’s what I remember. Furious with that man, Swain, for what he had done.’

      ‘Yes, she wanted to kill him. Not that that would have brought Ethan back, of course. Having Swain convicted at the trial was the next best thing. But then, after it was over and Swain had got his sentence, she felt empty. There was nothing more to do and it was time for everyone to get on with their own lives again. But Katya couldn’t. She had no sense of direction – she was like a ship without a rudder. And so she went into Oxford and lost control of herself. This is a beautiful city, but like all cities it has a bad side, an underbelly!’

      Titus stopped for a moment, savouring the word, as if pleased that he knew such an obscure piece of English vocabulary.

      ‘She went to places where a young girl should not go and she did things she should never have done,’ he went on after a moment. ‘She took drugs, Vanessa. Here, look.’ Gently, Titus lifted the sleeve on Katya’s left arm up to the shoulder and pointed to the needle marks dotting the skin above her elbow. ‘And that’s not all. She sold herself.’ Titus’s voice broke, and he put his hand up to his eyes.

      ‘I’m sorry, Titus. I had no idea. You don’t have to tell me this,’ said Vanessa. She felt appalled, horrified, by what Titus had had to bear.

      ‘I’m telling you because I want to,’ said Titus, reaching out and taking Vanessa’s hand. ‘Because I don’t want there to be any secrets between us. Because you matter to me, Vanessa. You know that, don’t you?’

      Titus looked into Vanessa’s eyes, sensing her response. But then suddenly the connection between them was broken as she looked away over his shoulder with a grimace, and, turning round, he came face-to-face with Franz, standing behind him in the doorway. Like my damned shadow, he thought angrily. Franz was in the way as usual, spoiling everything, just when he had had that instinctive sense that the moment had at last arrived to make a declaration to Vanessa. But then he remembered Katya lying unconscious on the sofa and he felt the injustice of his reaction. Franz was right to interrupt them. The girl couldn’t stay here. She needed to be put to bed. There would be plenty of time for romance later.

      ‘I’m sorry, Franz. I didn’t see you,’ he said in an even voice. ‘I was just coming to find you to say that Katya was all right. Vanessa here has been kindly looking after her.’

      Franz nodded toward Vanessa without saying anything. It was a formal gesture, like a military salute, empty of personal meaning.

      ‘I’ll take her up,’ he said, crossing over to Katya, but Titus put up his hand in an authoritative gesture before Franz could take hold of her.

      ‘No, Franz. This is a job for me, I think.’

      Franz winced, stepping back as if he’d been struck. Vanessa wondered at his sensitivity but then guessed intuitively that he didn’t like being given orders in front of her.

      Again Vanessa was struck by how light Katya seemed to be in Titus’s arms. It wasn’t just sleep the girl needed; it was food and drink. Vanessa knew it wasn’t her place to interfere but she felt she’d have to say something to Titus later when they were alone.

      ‘I’ll be back in a moment, my dear. Just as soon as I’ve got my Katya tucked up in bed,’ said Titus as he was going out of the door.

      ‘No problem,’ said Vanessa. ‘I’m fine here.’ But Titus was gone by the time she’d finished her sentence, and she found herself speaking instead to his brother-in-law, who stood facing her with his hand on the door handle.

      He looked at her for a moment without speaking and then, bringing his feet together as if standing to attention, he bowed his head but not his back before turning around and leaving the room, pulling the door shut behind him. Vanessa half-expected to hear a key turning in the lock, but nothing happened, and she was left alone in a sudden strange silence.

      A phrase she’d read years ago in some forgotten book floated unbidden into Vanessa’s mind: ‘Politeness is one of the most potent weapons in a civilized society.’ Franz Claes didn’t just make her feel uneasy, she realized. She actively disliked him as well.

      Vanessa screwed up her eyes and shook her head, doing her best to clear all thoughts of Claes from her head. She preferred to think of Titus. She often found it difficult to summon an image, to accurately visualize a place or a person when they were not there in front of her, but with Titus it was different. He had impressed himself on her mind’s eye from the first, long before they had started seeing each other. Nobody could say that he wasn’t a fine figure of a man. An inch more than six foot from the top of his thick wavy silver hair down to his Italian leather shoes. Generally she had never been attracted to men with beards, but with Titus it was different. The carefully groomed beard and moustache were an extension of his beautiful hair, and she liked the rough texture of it under her fingers.

      She didn’t know his exact age but she guessed him to be in his late fifties, and yet he was clearly physically very fit and never seemed tired or deflated. His bright blue eyes, perhaps his most attractive feature, were constantly alert, and sometimes it seemed as if they sparkled, lighting up his face.

      He had beautiful taste. His clothes, his house, his possessions – everything was perfect. And yet worn and possessed with an effortlessness that Vanessa had never encountered before. He liked to show her things – between two high bookshelves in his study, for example, a tiny, terrifying painting of the Gorgon’s head by Caravaggio that gazed at her malevolently out of its dark frame, or in the drawing room a silver box embossed with Cyrillic letters and a royal crest in which the last tsar had kept his cufflinks.

      ‘You know the Bolsheviks told the imperial family to get ready to go out before