Into Chaos Hurled (Book 2)

Three - The Illusion of Peace

May 1912

Peter

The news of the Titanic sinking seemed to have blown over by the month after. I knew Father was itching to come out of mourning, but for the sake of convention, we wouldn't just yet.

Besides, this month was set for all the rush that came with Lottie's presentation. She was to turn eighteen just four days from now, the nineteenth. We were packing feverishly for London, where Great-grandmama had a city address in Belgrave Square. Great-grandmama would be accompanying us, of course. I suppose she was quite eager to see her great-granddaughter appear in the eyes of the London social scene.

"Mother thinks this whole affair very silly," I said to Alexander as we packed. Just this once, for the presentation, I would be permitted to wear non-mourning clothes. "Social convention was never her friend."

"Weren't most of ours neither, Peter," he said as he brushed down one of my tailcoats, the one with the silk lapels. "If me Mum could afford it, I would've gotten meself an education."

"You will someday, Alexander." I folded up another pair of drawers and set them on top of my other clothes. "Finish with top marks, I expect. Flying colours, and all that."

"Appreciate that you think so," he said, with a grin. "Think I'd make prefect?"

"Cripes, Alexander, with a mind like yours, those boys'll be calling you Dux in no time." I took after Father in boarding school, hovering in the middle range of marks and doing enough to pass. It had nothing to do with intelligence – only I was ready to get out into the world and make something of myself.

A smile flickered across his mouth. "Very much appreciated, Peter. M'lud."

"Reckon Mr Lowell's going to let you loose in the city?" I asked as we resumed our respective activities.

"Wish he would," Alexander said with a shrug. "Haven't seen London since I was a little tyke."

I agreed – Mother and Father had stayed in London for a while after I was born, sorting out their will with our financier. I remembered none of it, of course, but the various visits to the Order throughout the years gave me my first real memories of it. I especially recalled our visits to the Fullertons', Grace and I playing under the watchful eye of Lady Burnham's maid Celia. I looked forward to seeing them again, even though much had changed.

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We took the train to London. I watched the landscape slide past, thinking about what Mother had said about all the time she spent on trains. Arthur Kingsley, the Head of the Order, had granted her the post of Undersecretary after the fall of Benedict Huntley, but we all knew it was just a fancy title and nothing more. Still, she was supposed to attend meetings and other proceedings when the entire board met, at least once a month.

"He only did it to prove a point," she told us, when we asked. "To himself and to the rest of the board."

"But surely he lets you vote, Mama?" Lottie said, sounding confused. "You are a board member, after all."

"Arthur's mind works in mysterious ways, my dear." Mother sighed, a dismayed kind of sound. "After I married your father, our relationship began to turn."

I remembered the story well: when Mother was young, and in the thick of Huntley's power, there were men asking for her hand left and right. Mr Kingsley was one of them, and he had had high hopes that she would accept. She suspected it was because he thought quite highly of himself with his money, his title, and his land. But she was far from enamoured with the idea, and disenchanted with Kingsley's power grab. Father was the obvious choice from that point onward.