Into Chaos Hurled (Book 2)

Twenty-Six - The Only Girl In the World

Charlotte

For a moment, Papa and I simply stared at him, unable to say a word. Henry had once told me that the pride of a soldier was how well-kept his uniform was. The Earl's was shredded, dirty, and smeared with something brown and black. He appeared to have been through a hardship or two, because his neck and face were bruised purple and blue. One eye was swollen half-shut, making him appear even more menacing. I inched closer to Papa.

     'Me?' Papa said, and his hands clenched on the brim of his hat. 'What did you want with me?'

     'I know the pull you have in the Order, Dorchester,' said Heacham, and he took a shambling step forward. We tensed, but it was only to lean against the desk nearby for support. 'I did not know where else to turn.'

     'Whatever for?' Papa shook his head. 'Surely you have other resources...'

     'As an exile of the Order?' Heacham shook his head. 'I'm afraid those are very hard to come by, Dorchester. Especially when your own Head believes I am an enemy of the people.'

     'Well...' I ventured. 'Are you?'

     'If the name Friedrich von Wittenberg sounds familiar, then perhaps you would not need to ask me that.' Heacham shifted his weight and his face paled under his bruises. So he truly was injured.

     'Major Kingsley mentioned the Anathema,' said Papa, and that caught the Earl's attention. 'Has Wittenberg found it?'

     'I'll wager a yes.' Heacham tugged at a tear in his overcoat. 'He has not been reliable lately, with the war on...said he was supposed to return to Berlin the moment war broke out, but as far as I know he is still here.'

     'Typical,' muttered Papa, before addressing Heacham again. 'Then what is your explanation for being here? Are you running from him?'

     'I was trying to find some place he would not be able to find me. He was using me as a ploy all along, you see. He knew of my reputation, and my power. As soon as I refused to comply, taking orders from my commanding officer instead of him, he decided I was no use to him anymore. He was having me followed, Dorchester. Followed.'

     'All right, all right.' Papa stopped him, seeing he was clearly agitated. 'Say we believe you. What is it you would have us do?'

     'I only want shelter,' said Heacham, his shoulders hunching in. The desk groaned as he leaned on it with his full weight. 'Lady Dorchester's reputation for kindness and hospitality precedes her. If I may impose on it, just for a little while, as an injured serviceman...'

     'You will not take advantage of my wife, Heacham,' said Papa, his words clipped. 'Or our situation.'

     'I promise to behave,' he said. 'You have my word. As long as I am under your roof, I will give you no reason to mistrust me.'

     Papa and I exchanged a glance. Bringing him home with us would certainly raise questions neither of us wanted to answer. And although he had deceived us in every possible way before, now it seemed the tables had turned and he was the one being deceived. Finally Papa nodded and sighed, crossing to the desk.

     'There is a hospital just down the road from here,' he said as he wrote. 'Go there, and they will treat your injuries. If they see fit, they may send you up to convalesce with us, but as soon as your name goes down in hospital, it is out of my hands. But this at least will give you a chance.'

     'Thank you, Dorchester,' said Heacham as Papa finished and held the paper out to him. He took it and folded it, tucking it into the pocket of his tunic. 'There is something else you can help me with, and I believe your powers of the Order may do the trick.'