Chapter Text
Zatonsk Police Station.
October 23, 1888.
Chief Inspector Shtolman.
Dear Yakov Platonovich,
You must believe me to be perfidious, or at least doubt the sincerity of my stated interest in continuing our correspondence, as it has been well over a week since we last saw each other, and considerably longer than that since we exchanged written messages. I had a curious encounter the same day of our last meeting. One that has weighed on my thoughts and that I have concluded is the impetus for my long silence. Originally I vowed not to share this experience with you, but with the passage of these many days and the luxury that accompanies the written word - that of an uninterrupted opportunity to fully express my thoughts - I have changed my opinion.
I have made the acquaintance of your lady from the capital. It was she who sought me out. As I had not met her before, I did not recognize her and only came to realize who she was at the conclusion of our brief conversation. She wished to convey how much she knew about me, suggesting that you and she discussed me at length. I am dubious of the veracity of that claim and find that I do not trust her in the least. At this juncture I would consider warning you about the intentions of this woman, but I feel it would be akin to teaching fish how to swim. And that, I believe, is all there is to be said.
You will be pleased to hear that my father’s wound has completely mended. Mama, free from worrying over Papa’s physical health, has returned to her usual fussing about the demands of his work. We will forever be grateful for the attention you provided in resolving this situation, and for Anton Andreievich’s quick reactions. I shudder to think what could have happened that morning had we not arrived at the ravine when we did.
I wonder at the seemingly universal interest of men, even in this progressive time, for challenging, accepting, and carrying out the practice of dueling. What honor is upheld by the spilling of blood? The women left behind, even those for whom the duel is ostensibly fought, must be made sick at heart, terrified while they await news of the outcome. I wish never to revisit that experience. If you men considered the misery these encounters provoked, I warrant you would be far more reluctant to engage in them.
Other phenomena related to this terrible ordeal are curious to me as well. How is it that when facts are unknown or unclear, we wish to assume the worst possible motive, particularly when the perpetrator is a stranger? We do not afford them the benefit of non judgement or of a positive consideration. Instead, we jump to conclusions, almost always incorrect and unfavorable. I, myself, was quick to conclude that the poor organ grinder was a fiend who wished my father dead based solely on a cloak he wore. Yakov Platonovich, what is to become of us, if we are so quick to blame?
Still, I am heartened by your resolute and intrepid efforts in the name of justice. With you at the helm, I shall not fear for the wrongly accused, and the truth will out. I found relief in the seriousness with which you treated the threat upon my father’s life. Truly I was greatly calmed when you arrived so swiftly after the constable sent for you that fateful morning. Your mere presence brought me a considerable measure of comfort.
Yours gratefully,
Anna.