Chapter Text
Her Ladyship Franziska von Karma sent a motor-car to meet them at the train station. It was grandly opulent, driven by the manor’s caretaker, a man called Gumshoe.
The drive to the manor was beautiful, despite the chilly grey of early winter through the trees, the surrounding countryside interspersed with ribbon lakes and rolling mountains in the distance.
A few miles from the train station, the car turned off from the main road. Phoenix could see a bridge coming up on the winding path. When they reached the mouth of the bridge, he looked up and saw that overhead delicate iron scrollwork spelled out veritas et iustitia.
‘The family’s motto,’ said Gumshoe proudly. ‘This bridge is the border to the von Karma family estate.’
‘They own all of this?’ Maya Fey asked beside Phoenix, a nervous note in her voice. He glanced at her. Of all the jobs that they had accepted in the past year, this was by far the grandest.
‘Right you are, Miss!’ Gumshoe answered cheerfully. ‘The von Karma manor is famous for this bridge in particular. The main house is only accessible by bridge, and has quite some view of the lake, if I may say so.’
Phoenix’s eyes widened and he heard Maya gasp beside him as the manor house came into view. It was an enormous stately home, with pale stone walls and massive windows that glittered with the lake’s reflected light.
The car pulled into the long drive. Gumshoe helped Maya down and Phoenix followed. He felt remarkably shabby, from his battered suitcase to the mended cap on his head.
They will be looking at her, not at you, he reminded himself.
Maya seemed unconcerned by all the grandeur surrounding her, and in fact, she was quite eager. She pulled Phoenix close when she took his arm and whispered, ‘Do you think that they’ll ask us to stay on for dinner? Imagine the feast we’d get here!’
They followed Gumshoe through a side entrance into a maze of kitchens and servants’ quarters. There was plenty of activity: food being cooked, pantries overflowing. Likely a welcome change from the recent rationing and belt tightening of the Great War.
‘Right this way,’ Gumshoe said. ‘Her Ladyship asked me to show you into the conservatory.’
They were led down a hallway lined with portraits and art pieces, into an elegant sunroom. The room smelled tropical, full of potted flowers and greenery. In the centre of it stood a young woman, who was caught in the act of pacing. She turned on her heel at the sound of their arrival.
‘Ah,’ she said. ‘You are here at last.’
Phoenix presumed that this must be the Lady Franziska von Karma, heiress to the estate. She was very striking, with her pale eyes and her hair cut bluntly into a shocking bob, rarely seen on women of the upper classes. Her manner was straightforward. Phoenix sensed at once that there was no nonsense about her.
She stepped closer to Maya, looking her pointedly up and down. ‘So, you are the one who will perform the…ceremony,’ she said.
‘The séance,’ answered Maya, smiling.
‘You are some sort of spiritualist?’
‘I suppose so. I think of myself as more of a mystic.’
‘Really? Well. You came highly recommended.’ Franziska looked at Maya searchingly, fingers fidgeting with the lace collar of her high necked gown. ‘This is a very important occasion. The reading of my father’s will. He passed away a fortnight ago and specifically asked that a–a séance be conducted to contact him at the reading. Not that he ever believed in such things in life–contacting the dead, that is…’
She seemed on the verge of asking something further when the door of the conservatory burst open once again.
Standing there, breathing hard and colour high in his cheeks, was the handsomest man that Phoenix had ever seen. His handsomeness was almost obscured by the anger clear on his face, apparent in the set of his haughty jaw and the flash of his grey eyes.
‘What is the meaning of this?’ he asked upon entering the room. He was richly dressed and held himself with an upright military bearing, projecting an air of confidence and authority that took over the room. It struck Phoenix at once that there could not be more differences between himself and this man. Phoenix was rumpled and smelled like the sausage roll he had eaten on the train, and perhaps he had once had that same air of confidence, something in him that might have risen to meet the man's sharp question, but no more.
‘Allow me to introduce Miles Edgeworth,’ said Franziska, with a poorly concealed note of annoyance. ‘My brother.’
‘Adoptive,’ Edgeworth cut in, though Franziska glanced at him sharply. ‘So spare me the titles.’
‘Not the Miles Edgeworth?’ asked Maya. ‘The war hero?’
Edgeworth scoffed and turned to the side.
‘My brother worked for the royal military police,’ Franziska said. ‘And now works independently as a private detective.’
‘It is no business of theirs,’ said Edgeworth. ‘You really went ahead and hired these stage performers, against my advice?’
‘Of course I did! It was Papa’s final wish.’
‘You know that this is foolish vaudeville, Franziska,’ said Edgeworth. ‘We are people of science.’
‘Papa specifically requested that I find a way to contact him from the beyond, and I have done so!’ Franziska snapped. Pink rose high in her cheeks. Phoenix noticed, then, that despite Franziska’s composure and the forcefulness of her manner, she was very young.
‘Pardon me,’ said Phoenix. ‘But if you please–Miss Fey is not a performer. She is the most honest person I know, and the feats she can perform are nothing short of miracles. She truly has a sense of what the dead would say.’
‘And who,’ said Edgeworth, coming closer, looking disdainfully down his nose, ‘are you?’
‘No one,’ said Phoenix. He stepped back hurriedly. ‘Nick Wright. I am Miss Fey’s escort.’
‘We haven’t time to argue about this,’ said Franziska. ‘Everyone is already assembled in the drawing room. We must introduce our guests before they go up to dress for dinner.’
Maya elbowed Phoenix in the side. ‘Did you hear that?’ she whispered. ‘Dinner!’
Despite Edgeworth’s protestations, Maya and Phoenix were led down another hallway and into a blue wallpapered drawing room with matching gilt furniture.
There sat assembled a party of five guests, talking amongst themselves.
‘Allow me to introduce our séance performers,’ said Franziska, as the conversation in the room died away. ‘Miss Maya Fey and Mr Nick Wright.’
‘Hello,’ said Phoenix, with an awkward half bow as Maya curtsied clumsily beside him.
‘These are the others who will be present at the reading of the will,’ Franziska said.
She gestured to an older man with glasses and a white beard. ‘My father’s colleague, Mr Damon Gant.’ Gant nodded coolly.
‘My father’s private nurse, Miss Alita Tiala.’ A prim, fussily dressed woman raised her hand in greeting.
‘My father’s attorney, Mr Kristoph Gavin.’ Gavin smiled enigmatically.
‘Nick Wright, is it?’ Gavin asked. ‘And Maya Fey?’
‘Yes,’ said Phoenix.
‘And this is my father’s secretary, Mr Victor Timms,’ Franziska continued. Timms, a bald and retiring man, made barely any acknowledgement.
‘And,’ Franziska concluded, ‘the daughter of an…old friend of the family. This is Miss Dahlia Hawthorne.’
A beautiful woman with rich auburn hair blinked up at Phoenix through her lashes.
‘How do you do?’ she asked sweetly.
‘Very well, Miss,’ said Phoenix, his mouth going dry.
‘I will ring for Gumshoe to show you to your quarters,’ Franziska said, and ushered Maya and Phoenix out of the room.
On exiting, Franziska leaned closer to Maya and confided, ‘They are a den of vipers, horrible all of them. And each with some terrible secrets and much to gain from Papa.’
Phoenix followed dumbly after the two ladies. But as he left the room, he felt a prickling at the back of his neck, the feeling of someone looking at him. He turned and met Edgeworth’s piercing stare, held a moment too long before the door closed between them.
Gumshoe arrived in the hall, and led them outside again to the guest cottages where they would be staying. The grey skies had taken on an ominous look with winds picking up, blowing Maya’s hair around her face as they walked over the grounds.
‘Weather’s starting to turn,’ Gumshoe said. ‘Looks like a storm’s coming in.’
Phoenix nodded politely and lowered his cap over his eyes. He felt a storm brewing too, deep in his bones. He wished that they had not been asked to stay to dinner. For after meeting the party, he had learned that one among them knew of his own terrible secret.
