Chapter Text
“Mr. Edgeworth, Miss Trucy won’t wake up without you.”
Miles set his comb and jar of pomade down. His reflection in the mirror was tired. His eyes were slightly puffy as usual, swollen from the little sleep he got every night. Even though he was still young—not even yet in his thirties—there was a seriousness to him that made him look older, strict. His mouth was always downturned into a frown. His brow always furrowed.
Miles Edgeworth was an exhausted man and everyone who crossed his path knew it.
“I’m sorry,” May said. “She won’t leave her bed without you.”
May kept her hands down before her, but Miles could see how her fingers twitched at her apron. Her shoulders were tense, and she kept her chin tucked down into his chest. She was a nervous young thing. Most likely because Miles was not known as the kindest employer to his house staff but also possibly because his wards might have been the most difficult children to look after in all of California.
“Miss Kay is awake and readying herself for breakfast,” May said, as if trying to make up for the stubbornness of the youngest. “And Master Sebastian, I heard from Mr. Reginald, is also awake.”
“Thank you,” Miles said, waving his hand. “I’ll take care of it. I’ll get Trucy to breakfast.”
“Thank you, sir.”
She disappeared as quickly as she could, scurrying out of the room and down the hallway.
Miles exited his room shortly after her and stepped across the hall. The house was already lively. Cleaning was underway. Maids were towing dirty bedsheets away—a sure sign that the eldest children were already downstairs. Luggage was being moved downstairs. Everything was operating like a well-oiled machine.
Miles knocked once, gently, before letting himself into Trucy’s bedroom.
Her room was that of a stereotypical little girl. Her curtains were pink with frills. The furniture was elegant and simple and adorned with cutesy items from all over the city—toys, bows, books. Her bedding was fluffy like a cloud with lace skirts around the bedrame.
And right in the middle of it, with her head on a white pillow, was Trucy, pretending to be asleep.
Miles knelt in front of her bed. He reached out and touched her head, gentle. “Trucy. It’s time to wake up.”
She opened her eyes—far too alert to have just been awoken—and immediately held out her arms. Miles knew the routine. He leaned forward into her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. He sat her up with his hands around her little waist and set her on the edge of the bed.
“Trucy,” he said, keeping his voice quiet and level. “We’ve talked about this. Ms. May is here to take care of you and Kay. You should be waking up with her so she can help you dress in the mornings.”
“But I like it when you do it,” Trucy said in a whisper, matching his tone.
Miles took a deep breath and held Trucy’s hands. “I understand, but if you’re going to be a lady, you’ll need a lady’s maid.”
Trucy smiled and squeezed Miles’ fingers. Her little hands were just so small. “Can you be my lady’s maid?”
Miles smiled partially in defeat. He stood and slid Trucy off the bed and walked her toward her wardrobe. “If I were your lady’s maid, I wouldn’t have time to be a lawyer, would I?”
“That’s okay,” Trucy said. “You don’t have to go to work.”
“Then how will I make money? To pay for your food?” Miles pulled out the dress he had requested May dress Trucy in the night before. It was pink with a skirt that ruffled out around her knees. It was one of her favorites and thankfully perfect enough for the day ahead of them. “Who would pay for your dresses?”
Trucy gave his questions a little thought while Miles helped her strip out of her nightgown and into her dress. As he was helping her into her socks, she said, “I could start a circus, and then you wouldn’t need to be a lawyer anymore.”
The infallible logic of an 8-year-old. Miles didn’t ask any follow-up questions.
Miles clumsily tied a ribbon into her hair, pulling it all back low against her neck as she liked it. His hairdressing skills left something to be desired, but he had thankfully learned how to make a presentable bow in the past 10 months. Trucy, at least, always seemed satisfied.
“Where are Kay and Sebastian?” Trucy asked as they walked down the stairs together. She ran her hands across the balusters, her fingers hitting each one with a quiet slap.
“I imagine they’re in the middle of breakfast,” Miles said. “ They got up on time.”
Trucy wrapped her arm around the newel post and swung off the final step. She ran ahead of Miles with her arms spread out at her sides and pushed through the door into the dining room. Miles adjusted his cravat and his waistcoat and entered behind her.
The dining room had a gloomy atmosphere. Kay and Sebastian sat across from each other, picking at their plates with droopy eyes and hung heads.
Miles pulled out Trucy’s chair for her and took his own at the head of the table.
“Why the sour looks?” he asked.
“Do we really have to go?” Kay asked.
“Yes. We do. We’ve discussed this already, and I won’t discuss it again.”
Plates were laid in front of Trucy and Miles. Poached eggs, thick slices of pork belly (pre-cut into bite sizes for Trucy), toast, and oranges. Trucy dove into her breakfast, eagerly stabbing her eggs right in the middle to get the yolk to flow free all over her plate.
Miles, like his eldest children, looked at his plate with disinterest and a touch of nausea. He brushed his fork over his meat and picked up one orange slice. His stomach was churning already, but he knew he had to put on a good show for the children. Their moods would only continue to darken if he let them see his nerves were frayed. He laid a cut of pork into his mouth even though it felt tough and heavy in his mouth. Like chewing a piece of leather. He swallowed with difficulty and chased it with a sip of coffee.
“Sebastian, sit up. Table manners, please.”
Sebastian pulled himself up off the table and sat back in his chair. He picked up a slice of toast and dropped crumbs into his lap getting it to his reluctant mouth.
“Kay, please eat something,” Miles said.
“I’m not hungry.”
“At least drink your milk.”
“I’m too old to be drinking milk.”
Miles cut into an egg. The yellow yolk spilled delicately out. He could see Trucy had smeared the innards of her own eggs into every other item on her plate. He’d have to remind her of proper manners by dinner.
“Would you like tea?” Miles asked Kay, looking over his shoulder. Their butler stood ready. “You need something before we leave.”
Kay looked at Miles like she was challenging him. “Can I have coffee?”
If he let her win this battle, she would be more agreeable in the evening. The risk of a grumpy fit would be significantly lowered. The strict no-coffee-until-18 rule of the house could be broken. After all, Kay was only a few months away from turning 18.
“You may have coffee,” Miles said. “You’re very nearly an adult.”
Reginald was a wonderful butler and always seemed to be a step ahead of Miles. As soon as Miles granted permission, a cup of coffee on a saucer was placed in front of Kay. The liquid inside was dark enough to reflect the lights of the chandelier. Miles nodded in his approval as Reginald stepped back.
Kay picked up her coffee and took a large sip. Her mouth pressed into a firm line, and Miles could see it took her a moment to swallow.
“How do you like it?” he asked.
Kay laid her cup down and held her shoulders high. “It’s delightful. Thank you.”
“What does it taste like?” Trucy asked.
“You wouldn’t like it,” Kay said, laying a hand to her chest. “It’s something only adults like.”
“I don’t think I’d like it,” Sebastian said.
“You’re still young, Sebby boy.”
“You’re only a few months older than me!”
The tension was broken, finally. With Trucy’s giggling, Miles’ nerves were steadying.
He knew that the children hadn’t been looking forward to their trip, but it was out of his control. He didn’t want to leave them alone in the house. Kay and Sebastian would surely burn the place down. Trucy would panic if Miles was gone for a whole week. It was best to take them with him. And they would enjoy themselves once they got there. They had never been to the coastline together, and Miles had already promised them that they could go to the beach for an afternoon. It was a bribe to get them out the front door that morning without using force.
Miles was amused to see Kay’s cup go untouched through the rest of breakfast. With the rest of her food, it was taken away when it grew cold. Miles’ own plate was taken away with most of his meal untouched. His sympathies went to their cook, but after a few bites, he couldn’t make anything more slide down his throat.
“Bring something to entertain yourselves with for the train,” Miles said as they were all standing from the table. “And wash your faces and clean your teeth while you’re upstairs. We have to leave in an hour, so don’t dawdle.”
Kay offered Trucy help with cleaning herself up. Trucy, sticky, said she could manage herself. Miles held his breath until he heard Kay say she would supervise. He was proud for a brief moment until Kay, her voice drifting in from the hallway, told Trucy that ants would eat her face if she didn’t get all the crumbs off. Sebastian was quick to tell Trucy that that wasn’t true. Kay had tried telling him the same thing, too.
It was mornings like those that Miles was thankful he had taken in all three of the children. Despite all the frustration and exhaustion that came with looking after them, they made the house feel full. Before Kay came along, permanently, Miles felt the emptiness of the house deep in his bones. In his mind. All the servants around him, and all he could think of every night, at the empty dining table, was how miserable it was to be on his own.
But then Kay joined him, and he appreciated her company. Sebastian came later, and together they made the house feel livable. Finally, with Trucy, almost every space was taken over by the children, and Miles felt comforted walking through their chaos.
However, with them also came another special type of anxiety that crept up on him when his guard was down.
He should have been raising little ladies and a gentleman, but they all seemed resistant to the idea. There was only so much he could do. He knew the expectations that had been set for all four of them, and he had tried everything to get the children into their own roles. He had hired staff, tutors, coaches. He had tried his own hand at teaching them manners and trying to interest them in proper hobbies. Painting, violin, piano, riding. Hardly any of it stuck. And what did stick, they pursued in their own fashion.
And it wasn’t as though they were ill-behaved. They were all kind. They were mindful of house staff most of the time. They were never rude in public—at least, intentionally. They had good heads on their shoulders, Miles had been told. But it still wasn’t enough.
Kay spoke out of turn. She begged to wear trousers instead of dresses. She was uninterested in most of her schoolwork and had made one etiquette coach quit years ago.
Sebastian was too absent-minded to behave like a gentleman. Miles had tried telling him time and time again that a young man should be thoughtful about his every action. A gentleman knew when it was appropriate to open a door for a lady and when to contribute to conversation. Sebastian, unfortunately, never outgrew his habit of awkward timing with talking and had on more than one occasion accidentally let a door close on Kay’s face.
Trucy was Miles’ brightest hope, but Trucy opened old wounds.
She was clingy, having been separated from her family not long ago. And Miles knew that social status dictated they needed proper staff to do proper jobs, but it was difficult for him to deny Trucy his own personal company in the morning and at night and in the middle of the day when she snuck away from tutors to find him in his study. Ms. May had yet to complete a full day of duties despite her best efforts. She always asked Trucy if she’d like to play a game or if she’d like to pick out her outfits for the following days. She hadn’t given up yet, but if she didn’t also attend to Kay who was far more willing to be attended to, then Miles would have let May go months ago.
Trucy was just so young, and she had taken to Miles so quickly. She had fully accepted him as her new father in a way Sebastian and Kay hadn’t. And whenever she asked if she could sit in his lap while he worked or if he could join her in the garden while she played, he had a sorrowful pit in the bottom of his stomach that made it impossible to say no.
His own father, after all, never denied him those tender moments when he was Trucy’s age.
“Are we all ready?” Miles asked.
He inspected faces and hair and clothes before they stepped out the front door. Trucy, with her special doll that Miles had bought her the week she came to live with them (and chosen by Kay and Sebastian), clung to Miles’ hand in the car while Kay and Sebastian looked more and more weary as they got closer and closer to the train station.
“Perhaps there’ll be a vendor on the train,” Miles said. “It’ll be a long trip. I’ll buy you all a treat of your choosing once you get peckish.”
Trucy was the only one outwardly thrilled by the announcement. Kay and Sebastian were too old to be bought over with sweets, it seemed. Or, perhaps, too miserable.
“Is von Karma going to be there waiting for us?” Kay asked, arms crossed over her chest.
Miles nodded. “He and Franziska left earlier this morning.”
“Great.”
“Kay, I expect you to be respectful during this trip. And please refer to him as Mr. von Karma when you’re in his presence.”
Kay rolled her eyes. Miles bit his tongue.
“Franziska will be there,” Miles said. “You three should be excited about that, shouldn’t you? You haven’t seen her in a long time.”
“Yeah,” Sebastian said, half-heartedly.
“Kay,” Miles said. “I’m sure you have all sorts of things you’re excited to talk to her about.”
“Maybe.” There was a tug of a smile on her lips.
“Last I heard, she had quite the week planned for you three.”
“It’s not like we’re actually going to see her all that much,” Kay said. “You’re all going to be doing your law stuff, and we’re all going to be trapped in the house.”
“Franziska has made time in her schedule for you. She says there’s plenty of places she wants to take you three for educational purposes.”
“Why does everything have to be educational with her?” Sebastian asked.
“She values it above all else,” Miles said.
He didn’t want to tell them that she thought their education was lacking. She was only a couple of years older than Kay and Sebastian, but she had always wanted a hand in their upbringing—what little was left. She thought of herself as an aunt figure, there to guide and mentor.
“This week won’t be as miserable as you think it will be,” Miles said.
“I doubt that,” Kay said.
“Kay.” Miles’ voice was stern enough to get her to sit up and look up at him. “I would never knowingly put you in any distressing situations.”
Kay looked down at her boots, sticking out from the bottom of her skirt. “I know.”
“I understand you don’t particularly like Mr. von Karma, but he did pay for us to meet him this week. He took care of all the arrangements, and we should try to be thankful for that.”
Kay and Sebastian nodded.
“Not to mention he’s helped me establish myself as a prosecutor,” Miles continued. “That’s worthy of gratitude as well.”
Miles would be forever in his debt. When Miles was young, parentless, on the verge of being sent to an orphanage, von Karma had stepped in. He took Miles in as his own, made sure he had the best education, the best clothes, the best opportunities. Miles flourished academically under his tutelage.
It was possibly one of the reasons von Karma never seemed satisfied with Miles’ own wards. While von Karma had shaped Miles into an intelligent, talented prosecutor who never lost his trials, Miles’ children were undecided on what they wanted to do as they got older and seemed content with their average academic success.
But Miles could never adopt the same harshness von Karma had that made Miles overachieve. He could never make the children stay in their rooms to study. He could never lecture Sebastian when his fingers hit the wrong keys on the piano, when Kay’s papers had grammatical errors, or when Trucy became distracted by a butterfly outside her window. While he easily snapped at anyone else around him—at peers, at detectives, at witnesses—his temper never flared around the children. It was as though he was physically incapable of being angry with them.
Frustrated, of course. Annoyed, most certainly. But anger never came easily when he was home with them. There was never any motivation to rap Sebastian’s knuckles at the piano—but to tap his shoulder to stop him and show him where he made a mistake. There was nothing that drove him to make Kay re-work her homework over and over until she got a perfect score—but to congratulate her as her grades slowly climbed higher. And Trucy—there was nothing that would ever make him even consider neglecting her of embraces or sitting by her side until she fell asleep at night.
“Papa, my tummy hurts.”
Miles wrapped his arm around Trucy’s shoulder. “Rest against me.”
He knew he would find no fever, but he laid his hand against Trucy’s forehead anyway. It seemed to comfort her when she had those complaints. A little time leaning into his side, and she would forget all about her upset stomach. They went through the routine frequently.
“Are we almost there?” Sebastian asked.
His book was abandoned next to him. Paper bags from the promised sweets were laid on top of it. Kay’s magazine of choice had been read and discarded on the floor.
Miles pulled out his pocket watch. It seemed they should have been there already. It was very near dinnertime, and they were meant to be pulling into the station by now. Von Karma had told the details to Reginald who had recited them clearly to Miles. They would leave town a little after noon. A car would be waiting for them at the station for the short drive from the station. They would make it to the manor just in time to freshen up and eat an early dinner at four o’clock.
Miles had been thankful for that arrangement. He was worried with the timing of a late breakfast and the time they had to spend waiting for the train to actually depart from the station, the children would be starving by normal dinnertime in the late evening and a late lunch on the train would spoil their appetite all together. And von Karma had very strict feelings regarding children letting food go to waste.
“How far away is Santa Barbara?” Trucy asked. She held her hands out for Miles’ pocket watch, and he allowed her to clamp it between her palms.
“It’s just over 100 miles,” Miles said.
“How long does it take to travel 100 miles?” Kay asked, eyes starting to share the same worry as Miles’.
“Three hours. Roughly. Maybe a touch more.”
Kay looked out the window. There was no sign of any upcoming stations. All that was around them was the coastline on one side and trees on the other.
“The train was late getting into the station,” Kay said.
“It was,” Miles agreed.
“Maybe we’re going a little slow,” Sebastian suggested.
“That could be it as well,” Miles said. “I’m sure we’ll be there before we know it.”
Trucy traced her finger over the engraving on Miles’ watch. He had taught her to read it when he first took her in, when he realized that watching time pass made her feel secure before bedtime. As she watched the minute hand tick around and she realized he wasn’t leaving her side, her anxieties lessened until she fell asleep.
He gently took his watch back and tucked it away in his waistcoat. “Why don’t you three go see if you can find more sweets.”
Miles pulled out a bill from his wallet. He didn’t have much. He never traveled with a lot of money. Especially not when von Karma was hosting them for a week and graciously paying for everything. His checks were always good, and it seemed too risky to put half his bank account in his wallet.
“Kay, here,” Miles said, passing her the money.
“Why does she get the money?” Sebastian asked.
“I’m the oldest.”
“By a few months!”
“Take Trucy,” Miles said, pulling Trucy up from his side and passing her to the elder two. “Don’t let her out of your sight. And just because I gave you all of that, it doesn’t mean you spend all of it. I don’t want your teeth rotting out or you three sick all night because you bought a dollar’s worth of candy. I’m expecting change.”
“You’re no fun,” Kay groaned, standing up.
Sebastian took Trucy’s hand as they left their private compartment, telling her that they would be rich in sweets in a few minutes. Their sugar consumption was the least of Miles’ worries. He hoped they took their time figuring out how far they could make their dollar stretch. Neither Kay nor Sebastian were particularly gifted with mathematics, so Miles was confident they’d be held up for a while.
Once the three of them had walked down the small corridor, Miles slipped out and walked in the opposite direction. He found an older man tucked away in a cleaning cupboard. He was well-dressed—in uniform—and reaching up for a fresh towel on a high shelf.
“Excuse me,” Miles said. “Are we close to our destination? Will we be stopping soon?”
“We have about another hour ahead of us,” the man said. He had a bushy white mustache that covered his mouth. It moved when he talked.
“An hour.” Miles’ stomach sank. “It’ll take us another hour?”
“Last I heard. We got a late start.”
“And we’re going to be stopping in Santa Barbara?”
“Oh, no, we’re heading straight into San Baladí. We’re not transferring.”
“San Baladí?”
The man nodded. “It’s a straight shot from Los Angeles on this rail.”
“And suppose my travel plans were for Santa Barbara?”
The man laughed. “Then you’d be a while away from there. San Baladí is very nearly in the middle of nowhere.”
Miles pulled his tickets from his jacket pocket. The man, now a little solemn, understanding the situation, held out his hand. The initials of the cities were printed clearly on the ticket.
LA to SAB
“Ah,” said the man. “I see. SAB is San Baladí. Santa Barbara, if I recall, is SBA. Easy mistake.”
“So what you’re saying is I am going to be hours away from where I’m meant to be?” Miles asked. “All because this damn state has a thousand towns with similar initials, and there wasn’t possibly a better system the railway to use than smashing three letters together in different orders for every destination you have.”
The man passed the ticket back. “I’m just on board to help guests. I don’t drive the train. I don’t make the tickets.”
Miles pressed his hand to his forehead. “I have children with me.”
His voice was much weaker than he meant for it to be, and he could see the man take pity.
“You’ll be able to buy tickets at the station we’re stopping at,” the man said. “There’s a hotel in San Baladí. Least, it should still be standing. That’s all I know about the place.”
Miles’ hands shook as he pocketed his tickets. “Alright. Thank you.”
It would be okay, he told himself. He’d buy new tickets. He’d write a check. He’d get them out of there. It’d all work out. It was only a little mistake.
A little mistake.
He returned to the compartment. Trucy was devouring a Swiss roll, her tummyache already forgotten. Miles pulled out his handkerchief, ready to wipe her fingers clean when she was done.
“Is everything okay?” Sebastian asked.
“Everything is fine,” Miles lied. “But we’re not going to end up in Santa Barbara.”
“Where are we going?”
“A small town called San Baladí.”
“Why are we going there?” Kay asked.
Miles took one of Trucy’s empty hands and began wiping it clean. “A small clerical error. It’ll be alright. We’ll get back on the first train to Santa Barbara from San Baladí, and we’ll be there before we know it.”
He scraped chocolate out from under Trucy’s fingernails. It was stubborn. She must have torn into the Swiss roll with little decorum. Miles worried that she was getting hungry and that dinner would be hours away.
They could find something to eat if the train schedule allowed it. If there was enough time, he could find a small restaurant or a vendor. He certainly had enough cash on him for that.
“Papa, I think you’re lying,” Trucy said.
She was looking up at him. Her eyes were so bright.
“I’m not lying,” he said. “We’re going to be alright. It was a small mistake.”
“What type of mistake?” Kay asked.
“The code the railways use for Santa Barbara and San Baladí are infuriatingly similar,” Miles said. “We got tickets for the wrong town. It’ll be alright. We’ll get new tickets once we’ve stopped.”
“When do we stop?” Sebastian asked.
“We have another hour,” Miles said.
Sebastian and Kay slumped in their seats. Trucy laid her doll on her lap and stroked the dark curls, unbothered. Sebastian and Kay had chosen it for her because it almost looked like her. The same color of hair, the same color of eyes. It had her round face as well and a pink dress.
Miles petted Trucy’s hair. They would be okay, he told himself. It was all just a small mistake.
“There are no trains leaving until tomorrow morning.”
The woman at the desk couldn’t control the train schedule, Miles knew. She couldn’t summon a train out of thin air and take them two hours southwest.
Two whole hours. That felt like a punch to the gut. They had gone in the wrong direction altogether and were now two hours away.
“The first train to Santa Barbara leaves at noon,” the woman said.
She couldn’t make it arrive any sooner. It was all out of her control. But still, Miles was snapping at her.
“That’s the best you can do?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, voice matching his in curtness. He was clearly not her first troubling customer. “If you want to be on the first train to Santa Barbara, you can buy a ticket now. If not, you’re more than welcome to wait.”
Miles knew it was his only option. “I’ll need four tickets. Whatever space is available. And we have luggage.”
“Four tickets will cost $10.”
“$10 for four tickets?”
“There’s only first-class tickets left. If you’d like to get on a later train, I could look for—”
“No. No, we’ll take these.” Miles only had six dollars and some odd cents left in his wallet. “I’ll have to write a check.”
He bent down to his carry-on bag and unclapsed the top. It was full of small items he was sure the children would need before stepping into the house they would be staying at. An extra tie for Sebastian. Extra handkerchiefs. And his checkbook. He moved a comb and a jar of pomade out of the way.
It had been a while since he had bought train tickets for himself it seemed. He was unaware the cost of a first-class ticket was so much. Surely it wasn’t always so high. Surely there was just an upcharge for a last-minute purchase.
Miles pushed his extra handkerchiefs aside to get to the bottom of the bag.
It only made him that much more anxious about informing von Karma of what had happened. All that money had been wrongly spent on the incorrect tickets.
Miles moved the handkerchiefs back and felt along the sides of the bag, not caring if he was disrupting the order of the items inside.
But of course that much money wasn’t anything to von Karma. It was hardly much for Miles, either.
It wouldn’t be if his damn checkbook made an appearance.
He sat back on his heels. It wasn’t anywhere in the bag.
What a perfect, cruel addition to his troubles. His checkbook was most likely locked away in his desk at home. Reginald must have forgotten to pack it, and Miles had completely forgotten to double-check that he had it.
With as much pride as he could muster, he stood back up and faced the woman at the window.
“Forget the tickets,” he said. “Where’s the nearest hotel?”
“Less than two miles down the road,” the woman said. “When you leave the station, you’ll make a left and just head in that direction. You won’t be able to miss it.”
“Very well. Thank you.”
The children were sitting on a bench nearby, the luggage tucked under their legs. Miles had to stay strong for them. He was certain the rest of his cash could cover a hotel room for a night. As soon as they were somewhere safe, he’d send a telegram to von Karma and ask for him to wire money.
But God, Miles felt so guilty doing that.
“Is a train coming?” Kay asked.
They were the only people in the train station. Miles shook his head.
“Not until tomorrow,” he said. “Fortunately for us, there’s a hotel not far from here. We’ll be able to stay there. Come on, let’s get moving.”
It would be a short but awkward journey. Miles felt awfully vulnerable with the children carrying their luggage through the streets. No matter if it was only a two-mile walk.
They were all tired, he could tell. They were supposed to have eaten dinner already and winding down from a day of traveling.
“Papa.” Trucy took Miles’ hand. Sebastian carried her small suitcase. “I’m kinda hungry.”
“I’ll find you all dinner once we have a room,” Miles said.
He hoped he had enough cash for three meals at the hotel. Hopefully, they would be cheap. Hopefully, they would be warm.
He couldn’t send the children to bed with empty stomachs.
He’d figure something out. He always did. He was one of the top attorneys in the district. In the state. He never accepted failure in the courtroom, he wouldn’t accept failure in a small, rundown town.
There was nothing he couldn’t do. Or wouldn’t do.
The four of them left the station and turned down the main road. Miles held Trucy’s hand tight. It was still a little sticky from her Swiss roll.
He’d get the children somewhere safe, they’d get a room, he’d send a telegram to let von Karma know about the mistake of the tickets, and he’d get the children dinner. That was the plan, he repeated it to himself. It was a simple plan. There was nothing else that could go wrong that day.
The town didn’t seem to have much to offer. A building here and there. Occasionally a horse and buggy would pass them. They marched on down the road. The children were quiet and didn’t appear upset about their detour.
But all the while, the same truth kept ringing in Miles’ head no matter how hard he tried suppressing it. For years and years, the mantra had been drilled into his head:
A von Karma was perfect.
A von Karma did not make mistakes.