(OOC: For Anna, this thread takes place after her other thread, Old friends and new.)

Anna very carefully sneaked past Christopher’s study—which was to say, she floated past it with a kitten in her arms, burbling happily to it as if on her way to a drawing-room to sit and cuddle with it. It counted as sneaking, though, since that was not where she was really going, and the entire purpose of the exercise was to determine that Christopher appeared to be safely engrossed in his work. And indeed he did, so she continued on the way she had been going, heading towards the stairs, letting the kitten go. She had to find Charlotte, and make sure that Charlotte was occupied as well, and the gallery of the library was the best bet on a Saturday afternoon. And so she was, Anna noticed as she entered the gallery from one of the second-floor entrances. It occurred to her that she should have just come up here first, since she could see Christopher down below from up here. Her sister was sitting in a comfortable chair, and her feet were up on a footstool. Charlotte appeared sublimely comfortable as Anna went to a shelf to choose a book.

Picking the one she wanted, she left by a different door, passing Charlotte on the way. Her sister lowered her book to smile at Anna, and Anna smiled back as she left. Charlotte was the best sister ever. It felt almost wrong to be sneaking around on her like this. No, in fact it was wrong, Anna knew. She should tell Charlotte everything that she had been hiding recently… except who knew what Charlotte would think of it? Perhaps Charlotte would think Anna was foolish, and then Anna wouldn’t know what to do. It was better to wait to tell her until things were finished, because then Charlotte at least could look at something accomplished instead of the hopes of accomplishing something and maybe she would be more impressed and maybe she would think Anna was doing something worthwhile at last.

But there was also another reason not to tell Charlotte what she was doing. She had stolen something, and if Charlotte didn’t know that, then Charlotte couldn’t possibly be held accountable for anything if the law decided to come down hard on Anna. Charlotte and Christopher both would be able to say they never heard of it at all. Yes, it was better if they had no blame. Having thus reasoned, Anna headed up to her room, making her footfalls normal, so that Charlotte would assume she went up there to read if she heard. That would be the best thing, for her to assume that. But once she was up there, she put the book on her bed and then took off her shoes, so that her feet made no noise. She pulled on a shawl, since she was going out of doors, picked up the reticule that she had previously gotten ready, and slipped noiselessly out the door.

She crept down the stairs, shoes in hand, and, avoiding the library that doubled as Christopher's study, snuck to the back door and let herself out. She put her shoes back on, and then it was time to go ahead with the plan. Which, she just realised, involved walking all the way to Sir Vandenberg’s house all by herself. She cringed. She had forgotten that she would have to do that. Would it kill her? No, no it wouldn’t. Charlotte walked by herself sometimes and it never killed her. But then, Charlotte was Charlotte. But Anna had walked with Charlotte too. She could pretend that Charlotte was there with her. Yes! That was the way to do this. Whispering, “Lovely day, isn’t it?” to the imaginary Charlotte, she headed out.

It didn’t go too badly, the walk through the city. Almost no one was out in these parts, possibly because they used today for relaxing at home or going out to the theatre or the ocean or the country, and this was the time when they would all be occupied, instead of travelling. She managed to get all the way to Babington Hill without anyone accosting her, and found his street and then the number without any difficulty. Until she actually saw the place. It was a horrible house, four stories tall and hulking like a great beast. The ornamentation visible was entirely themed around skulls and bones, and there was blood on the door-step, and she was certain that the curtains visible through the window were made from human leather. Oh God. Why was she here!?

Because, at the Easter ball, she had fainted on him, she reminded herself. And when she had fainted, her hand had yanked the medallion from his neck, and then it had fallen into her skirts and gotten caught in them. She had found it in a fold when undressing the evening of the ball. Terror had filled her immediately. She had stolen something from the justice Vandenberg, and who was there that could possibly be worse to steal from? No one in the world. She had kept it quiet for over a week, hoping that if she didn’t say anything about it, it would go away. And indeed no one had mentioned anything about it to her, and the world seemed oblivious to the fact that she had stolen the judge’s pendant. But she had been unable to ignore it, and had decided to come and return it to him. It had been a simple matter to find out where he lived.

But now that she was here, she realised she should have told Charlotte about it, and asked her sister to accompany her. The man was a cannibal! She remembered his smile from the ball, and now, look at his house! It was awful! She distinctly heard a scream from inside as she opened the gate to the path up to the doorway. She turned to go at once. No way was she going to set foot in there. No way.

The scream came again as she re-opened the gate to let herself out, and Anna closed her eyes and walked away fast, trembling in fear and wishing that Charlotte was with her. This thought awoke in her the realisation that she was being a little girl again, exactly as she had promised herself she would try and not be again, and she turned back in her steps again, letting them lead her back to the house. She would do this thing. Of course the judge was not a cannibal. Of course not. He wouldn’t be allowed to live in the city if he was. And he certainly wouldn’t be able to torture people. Of course not. She opened the gate again, noting that the sound she had thought was a scream before was actually only the squeak of the gate, and very nearly ran up the path to the house. There was no blood on the door-step, it was only red petals from the geraniums in a flower-box.

And the curtains were a fine muslin, and there was not a skull nor a bone to be seen. What was she thinking? Oh, why was she here? Would it really be bad to go back and get Charlotte to come with her? And expose Charlotte to the possibility of being punished as well? How selfish of her to think it! But oh, how could she possibly do this by herself? The judge was a cannibal! No, he was not a cannibal, she told herself furiously. He was not, and she should get over that stupid fear. Not a cannibal, not a cannibal, not a cannibal. Was that roasting meat she smelled? No! She must stop this at once! But she had stolen his pendant. If he was a cannibal, then he would certainly think that made him entitled to eat her. Good thing he’s not a cannibal, then! she screamed at herself, trying to pay attention. Her thoughts continued to revolve around the stolen medallion, and the punishments that would befall her at Sir Vandenberg’s hands, be he cannibal or judge.

She stood at the front door to the house for a good half-hour or more, before finally mustering the courage to softly tap it twice. If they weren’t at home, or if they missed her knock, then she could hardly be held accountable for that, could she? She would have tried her best and no one could expect more of her, and so she would be absolved of guilt. Unfortunately, Sir Vandenberg’s footman had abominably sharp ears: within ten seconds of her knocking, just as she was turning to go, he answered the door. At his inquiry as to how he might help her, Anna was forced to say that she had urgent business with Sir Vandenberg. The footman at once showed her in to a drawing-room to wait, took her card with him to give to the judge as an announcement of her presence, and then left her to the mercies of her own devices—and imagination.

Sweat began to run down the line of her back, and her palms felt both cold and wet. She pulled out a handkerchief from her reticule to blot her face, and her eye fell on the pendant and chain at the bottom of the purse. Suddenly if felt like the thing weight a thousand tons, and she remembered what it said: Fiat iustitia, ne pereat mundus. Let Justice be done, lest the world perish. Oh no, oh no, that was the man she had come to see. He thought the world would perish without justice, and since he was a judge he would think that meant the laws of the land. And she would hang under English law, and Charlotte would hang, and maybe Christopher too now. And she had stolen his medallion, so he was going to think her a thief now, and who knew what the punishment for stealing a thing like the medallion might be?

Was it seventy years in gaol? Even one day in gaol would kill Anna. Or it might be a hanging, people in the old books she read got hanged for stealing handkerchiefs, and even for stealing food. Oh no, she shouldn’t be here. She should go right now, before he came down and told her that it was time she be clapped in irons and hauled off. He probably had constables around his house that he could order to do just that. Anna reached into her purse and her hand closed around the medallion, preparing to pull it out and leave it on the low table and go. But then she felt the inscription on the other side: Iustitia est constans et perpetua voluntas ius suum cuique tribuendi. Justice is the constant and perpetual will to give each one his rights. His rights… that could be her rights too, right? And she would have the right to explain herself?

People did that in court all the time. It was called testimony or statements or depositions or something like that. Anna never went near the building and hardly ever read about such things and thus was not sure. But it happened, didn’t it? People explained themselves? And if the judge carried something like that, he would allow her to do it too, right? And maybe then he wouldn’t think she was a thief. Maybe. Anna prayed to God that it would be so, and took her hand out of her purse. She would have something to tell Charlotte that Charlotte would be proud of today. She would be able to say, I went to Sir Vandenberg’s house and I gave him back his pendant and told him I was sorry and didn’t mean to take it, all by myself. And then Charlotte would tell her she was brave. Hopefully.

Please let Charlotte be proud of me!

Anna stood by the couch, quivering slightly with fear, but refusing to leave without explaining to the judge. She composed herself as best she could, hoping that she could get out of there within five minutes. Or one. Oh, she should just go now. No, no she shouldn’t. Stay. Stay. Stay. But what if he really was a cannibal? Stop thinking foolish drivel like that! What if he hanged her? Charlotte wouldn’t let that happen. Well, what if he hanged her right here and now, without a trial? That was illegal and never happened. It was only a medallion and she didn’t mean to take it. He would listen. He must listen.

Wallace sat behind his desk, wondering momentarily if he couldn’t just as well sell the entire house and move to a one-room building compromised of only a desk, a few bookcases to hold the overload of files and one of those fold-in beds. It didn’t seem liked he needed or even made use of the others rooms in the house. The judge massaged the bridge of his nose for a moment and then returned his eyes to the surface of his desk, glaring momentarily at the stack of files that magically seemed to have grown over lunch. The judge sighed and trained his eyes once more where they belonged, focusing on the file in front of him by sheer force of will. The writing was concerning that rather irritating Popplewell-case. The man was like a weed, you could pull him out and cut him down, he still popped up somewhere. It seemed that his business hadn’t been anything but a front for other business. Tax evasion wasn’t something Wallace could stand for of course, but the trouble was that Popplewell was more of an eel than he could’ve ever expected. The man was throwing up procedure arguments at every turn and Wallace had a very hard time seeing the true arguments hidden in the thick weave of legal vernacular. He sighed again and underlined four words in the text that seemed important and wrote them down in the small notebook at his side and cast a look at the notes he had made during the last hour. It didn’t make too much sense to him either, but that was to be expected. Wallace got up and walked to the open windowed. It had been opened to let in the fresh breeze, to clear his head a bit. He walked back to his desk and picked up the cup of coffee on the small table next to him, took out the spoon and laid it on the plate and went back to the window, the caffeinated liquid in hand. Looking over the back of his townhouse he sighed again, more relaxed than before. He rolled his shoulders a few times, wincing as he noticed how tense they were. He was becoming a ball of stress over this case…

He downed the coffee and went back to work, reading some more and from the moment he sat down, he saw it. Popplewell had indeed made a mistake, a big one, and tried to cover it up. Excited, Wallace flipped open the book holding all the financial reports of the company, and indeed, on the pages of expenses there was a list of companies that had no obvious links to the business. When he looked at the income page, again some of those names appeared. They had funded the company, and then retracted parts of the money back without filing those incomes themselves. It was all so simple now, the only reason he hadn’t seen it before was that he had never been good with numbers. Popplewell had however brought it to his attention. He took a new piece of paper and filled in a warrant. Popplewell would be arrested for now, and brought to trial in two weeks from now. Wallace also bundled up all the evidence the prosecutor had sent him and would’ve called someone to send it back as that same someone seemed to feel he was needed. Finally he could pass the judgment he had been forced to delay for so long. Within two weeks it would all be over. A calm rap on the door made him attentive to the presence of someone behind it. He called the man in and waited for him to enter.

”There is a lady here to see you, milord.”

Wallace looked up with a start, someone to see him was unusual enough, but a woman…especially on Saturday, Saturday was a day of peace and quiet to the greater portion of the populace…

”Is it miss Pritchard perchance?”

The footman took a look at the card and shook his head. For a moment there, Wallace thought he had felt a tinge of…excitement? Followed by something that he could’ve called regret…no, he must be feeling just happiness to be done with this case. That’d be it. Happy to have it over and done with, just none too good for Popplewell who’d spend some time in prison if he didn’t find elements à décharger.

”She’s called Sutcliffe…Anna Sutcliffe”

He had heard that name before, he was sure of that. Wallace looked at the ceiling for a moment, half-expecting it to mold into his memory that way, but it didn’t. He thought some more, and some more. But for the moment he didn’t know who she was. His memory was usually as a steel trap, but right now, it failed him. He nodded at the servant and followed him in, lost in thought on who this Miss Sutcliffe might be. He really couldn’t get an idea of what she looked like or where he had heard her name and that bothered him. He still had the warrant in his hands as the footman showed him in. Anna Sutcliffe, sister of Charlotte something, the girl that had fainted on him during the Easter ball. Not that was a defining trait of character, but it was what he remembered immediately. The frailty she had expressed and the feeling of…well…the need to protect that he had felt. Never mind that now, he looked at the sheet of paper in hand and quickly turned to the footman before that one closed the door.

”Get this warrant to the constables at the bureau and tell them that Popplewell should be held for conspiring to evade tax…and send the files on the desk back to the court. The prosecutor will need them in two weeks.”

The footman nodded and closed the door behind him, Wallace turned his eyes to miss Sutcliffe and he bowed, keeping quite a bit of distance between them, but not so much that it seemed too awkward. He had noticed she was very…flighty, to say the least. He raised his chest from it's paralel position with the floor back to a standing posture and smiled at her, very friendly to his standards and kept his voice calm and friendly, without becoming too personal.

”I’m surprised to see you here, miss Sutcliffe, to what do I owe the distinct pleasure of welcoming you to my home?”

He noticed that hse wasn’t too comfortable, and thought htat maybe, it had been safer to just stick to files today. Emotional women was something he wasn’t…good at.

The footman was taking way too long. Perhaps he had been eaten? Stop that foolishness at once! Oh Charlotte! Anna’s jumbled thoughts swirled and crashed together, none of them making very much sense. Why had she come here? Why had she ever thought this was a good idea? Why were the curtains a pale leathery-peach when the floor was blood red? Why was the floor blood red at all? Because it wasn’t. How many people had died here? Did the judge kill the people he sentenced to death himself, or did he have people to do it for him? Charlotte! Christopher! Help! Help! Someone, anyone, get her out of here! Could she sneak out? Maybe she could get past the servants, maybe they would take pity on her and not tell the judge that she was here. They didn’t know she was a sneaking thief… except sneak was written all over her. Even Charlotte saw it, even Charlotte said she was a little sneak.

Sneak, she could sneak out. If she was very quiet, no one would notice. Who noticed Anna? But she was guilty. The judge would know it the minute he looked at her. The servants must be trained to notice it as well. They would stop her before she had gotten two steps. Hide! She could hide! There was a table, She could hide under the table! She got down on all fours, squeezing herself under the low coffee table between the couches. It was tight, too tight, but she had practice squeezing herself into small places to escape. He would never find her now. She would be safe. She could wait until everyone was asleep and then sneak out. She would be fine… but oh! There was her reticule on the floor! She stretched out an arm to get it back, but it was too far, no matter how she strained. It was six feet away.

It would give away that she hadn’t left. She had to get it, and then hide again. She squeezed herself back out from under the table, quickly standing up and dashing over and bending to get the reticule, then dashing back to the table—and that was when she heard him coming. There were footsteps outside the door to the drawing-room. There was no time to get back under the table. What should she do!? What could she do?! She threw a frantic glance around to spot any kind of hiding place at all, but the door opened, and there was the judge, the footman holding the door for him. She stared at him in utter fright, but he turned to the footman, and said, “Get this warrant to the constables at the bureau and tell them that Popplewell should be held for conspiring to evade tax…and send the files on the desk back to the court. The prosecutor will need them in two weeks.”

A warrant! O Lord, deliver us from evil! The person Popplewell was going to die. So was she! Charlotte! Charlotte! Charlotte, please save me! Christopher, please protect me! Oh God, please help me! Our help is the Name of the Lord; who hath made heaven and earth. Blessed be the Name of the Lord; Henceforth, world without end. Lord, hear our prayers, and let our cry come unto thee. Anna crossed herself desperately as he bowed to her and said, “I’m surprised to see you here, miss Sutcliffe, to what do I owe the distinct pleasure of welcoming you to my home?” His voice grew more and more evil as he went on, and she knew that he knew she had stolen his medallion, and she knew that he wanted to hang her for it.

Paralysed with fear, Anna said nothing. He was there. He was there. He was there. Talking. With his mouth. Which had teeth in it. Sharp teeth. No no no, they were regular teeth. He was smiling. He looked so unfriendly when he smiled. He looked like he was thinking of the best way to sentence her to death. She could practically see the noose in his hands. She could feel it around her throat, cutting off her air. She couldn’t breathe at all. He was the Hanging Judge of English historical legend, he was Judge Jeffreys returned from the grave to kill her, he was smiling the cold smile that had been smiled at the deaths of thousands, many of them women and children. He had killed her, and now he was smiling because he knew, he knew what she was, and who she loved, and now he was going to go and kill them too. Her vision was going dark. She couldn’t breathe.

Anna fainted, her panic closing her airways and depriving her of consciousness. Sir Vandenberg, standing a fair distance off in a useless attempt not to scare her, could not possibly make it to her in time to catch her. She fell to the floor like a log, only one thing breaking her fall: the edge of the low table between the sophas. Her head struck it with the speed that gravity gave her descending body, opening a gash in her scalp and pulling her hair so that the pins keeping it up scattered out and it fell in great masses around her head as she came to rest on the floor. Blood immediately started oozing from the laceration, darkening her hair.

As Wallace rose, he could see that she remained immobile, like a deer in the headlights. Frozen, like a statuette of pale ice waiting for the sun to rise and melt her, standing there motionless as if time had stopped. Her eyes were the only thing that showed she was alive, her eyes and her chest that moved rapidly up and down like that of a rabbit. It seemed as if a demon had appeared at his back, or the grim reaper standing there, grinning at her from Wallace’s face. As if his eyes held threats of death and doom. Then… she began falling, her eyes rolled back into her skull and her body went limp, Wallace could see the signs, the distraction she was in. Her legs gave way from under her and he leapt forwards, his feet finding themselves swiftly in the fencer’s leap, shooting across the room like a 39 year old bolt of lightning. He saw he’d be too late, but still he tried. Her descent gathered speed and her head, being the extremity of that descending arc, received the brunt of it. The small coffee table stood straight into her trajectory, and Wallace winced in a feeling of shared pain as her head impacted upon it. She hit the floor then and he stood at her side in less then a moment after she had hit the floor. He shoved the table away to give himself some space and kneeled down beside her. Blood coloured her already red hair, Wallace kneeled beside her, his brain working overtime as he cursed himself for not being ready, not being close enough. He quickly checked her pulse and breathing, thanking whatever supernatural entity that was listening that her life signs hadn’t stopped. There’d be hell to pay if she had died here…

Wallace began checking if the vertebra of her neck were undamaged as he turned his head to the door momentarily. His voice was calm and authoritive, but clearly audible across the entire house.

”Someone, get over here!”

Okay, no damage to the neck it seemed, it was safe to lift her up. Best wait for a while though, he might need help. The door opened to let in the head of Tobias. The calm man looked surprised at the upturned table and Wallace kneeling next to the unconscious form of Miss Sutcliffe. Wallace snapped him from his reveries with that demandingly polite tone of his.

”Don’t just stand there, send for bandages and things, and send someone to find me a doctor. Then come and help me get her into the couch, SCHNELL”

Tobias nodded and ran off like a bolt of lightning ten years younger than Wallace and soon came back carrying a handful of bandages, cloths and some other compounds he might need. Ethanol and such. The house came alive around them, Wallace could hear people running around shouting and searching for other implements of medicine, or looking for someone who knew what to do. Wallace knew a bit…he had read a few books on medicine to fully understand what cases he had to try.

”Tobias, I’m going to lift her off the floor in a moment, it’s your responsibility that her head and neck stay perfectly secure. Use both hands just to be sure and put a pillow below her when we put her down. Alright?”

Wallace picked her up the floor, one arm around the area in the middle of her back and the other beneath her knees. Tobias took a good hold of her head and neck, keeping them from falling or moving too much as the two men carefully carried her to the nearby couch. Wallace remember this from the ball, she still was as light and vulnerable in his arms. Like a bird with broken wings. Wallace knelt next to the couch and placed her down as Tobias put a pillow beneath her head. Just as instructed. Wallace pointed to one of the white pieces of fabric that had been obviously procured from newly washed sheets and Tobias drenched it in a bit of water he had brought along, passing it to his employer. Between the two of them, they didn’t need a lot of words. Wallace dabbed softly at the bleeding wound, trying to clear some of the sanguine red liquid away so that he could see the extent of damage done. It didn’t seem too bad, he just hoped the doctor would be here soon to check.

Wallace pressed the cloth against her head to hope and stop the bleeding some more, as the precious liquid still seeped from the gash onto the pillow. Wallace would panic if he didn’t know that head wounds always bled this bad. There were a lot of veins in the head and face, just like in the hands or feet. Those places always bled a lot worse than they seemed. He hoped that information had been right…

”Should we tell her family?”

Tobias shook his head. They wouldn’t be able to keep a cool head with all those people around, and anyway, the doctor was already on his way here. They just needed to stick tight for now. Wallace nodded and wondered why she had fainted on him again. Why again she had come here…Why did she have to faint in his presence…He wasn’t a bad man was he? Wallace forced those thoughts out of his mind. Doubt yourself later, first get her on her feet again…He trained his eyes on the cloth turning red and sighed, maybe files weren’t bad compared to this kind of excitement…

Anna was back to happily floating in darkness, not worrying about anything, because nothing but her existed. She continued in this state until something else came into existence and disturbed her happiness: heat. It started in her head. At first it was just a nagging feeling, like there was something out of place that oughtn’t to be, but then it grew to be a delicious warmth everywhere. It was very comforting, except that it meant that she had a body. She did have a body, she could feel it now, with arms and legs. It was so warm. She should sleep, since she must be in bed to be this warm. But something was poking her head. Why? Maybe if she woke up she would know why. Where was she? Maybe if she woke up, she would know that too. Hmm. Yes, best to wake up, even though it might not be as warm.

So she opened her eyes, and saw nothing but bright, sparkly lights. How pretty! She let them dance in front of her eyes, just watching them. They were warm. But they faded after a bit, and she was sorry to see them go, because they were replaced by her own ugly visage. What was her head doing up there? She tried to put a hand to her head, but missed. How could she miss? It was really pretty easy, wasn’t it? There was her head right above her, and how could she miss? She tried again, and could see her hand flopping about, but it took her two more tries until she actually managed to put a hand to her head. It landed on her chin, and strangely, she couldn’t feel it at all, except in her hand. She stroked her own chin. It felt scratchy, like she had shaved that morning and it was beginning to grow back. Was it supposed to? Maybe…

She was too tired to think about it. Why was she so tired? Maybe she hadn’t slept in a while. Should she sleep now? She looked at her head again and was vaguely surprised to find that it wasn’t there. Instead it was Christopher’s head. Oh, that must be why the chin felt scratchy. That was quite a trick, her head turning into Christopher’s. Hmm… was there something fishy about that? She squinted, trying to focus her thoughts. Oh. It wasn’t a floating head. There was a body attached to it. It was a person. Oh yeah, people were like that, they had bodies. Christopher was sitting next to her. Anna gently stroked his brow, nearly poking him in the eye before she managed to make her hand go where she wanted it to, wondering why he looked worried. Her voice slightly muzzy, she asked, “Christopher? What happened?”

He dabbed something at her head, which coincidentally was attached to her body. How wonderful were God’s creations? Who else would have ever thought of that, attaching heads to bodies? Christopher said, “You fainted… Lie still. You’re hurt.”
Anna blinked. She was? Oh wow! She hadn’t known that. It didn’t hurt at all, whatever it was. She only felt a little sleepy. And warm. But whatever Christopher wanted, that’s what she had to do. She lay perfectly still, trying to not even breathe. “All right. I feel fine. Just sleepy. Can I talk?”
Christopher said soothingly, “Sure, go ahead.”
Anna smiled. He was so nice. But why was she lying on a couch anyway? “All right… what happened?”
He answered, “Well, you were in the drawing room and Vandenberg entered, and then you fainted and hit your head.”
Anna was surprised. Whatever had Vandenberg been visiting for? Had Christopher invited him? Or maybe Charlotte? “I did? What was he doing here?”
“You went to his house, you never told me why...”
Oh yeah! She had! She had snuck out. Whatever for? Charlotte had said something about kittens that morning. What had it been? Why was Christopher sitting beside her? Why was she lying on a couch? “What happened?”
Christopher answered, “I don’t know...”
She wasn’t supposed to talk. Or move, maybe it was move. It was nice and warm in here. She should sleep. But wasn’t she supposed to say something? She said, “Oh. Christopher, can I talk?”
He answered, “Sure, keep going.”
Keep going? Had she been talking before? Where was she? Why was she on a couch? “All right. What happened?”
“You went to Judge Vandenberg's house and when he entered the room you were waiting in, you fainted and hit your head.”
She hit her head? Shouldn’t it hurt then? She didn’t feel hurt. Oh! She went to Sir Vandenberg’s house! Didn’t he go with her? Then why weren’t they still there? She must have gone by herself. She could ask. “Oh wow. I went there all by myself?”
“You did...”
She did. Why? And why wasn’t she still there? Why was she now on this couch? “Huh. What happened?”
“You fainted and hit your head...”
But there wasn’t any bump that she could feel. Her head didn’t hurt at all. Shouldn’t it hurt if she had hit it? She was so sleepy. Maybe she would understand this better if she wasn’t so sleepy. “Oh. I feel sleepy. Can I sleep?”
The concern in Christopher’s face deepened. “No Anna, you have to stay awake... Just talk to me.”
Oh, but that was so hard! Surely it wouldn’t hurt to sleep a little? “Oh. But just a little nap?” Anna’s eyes drifted shut in the wonderful warmth. Ah, it was so peaceful, and she could sleep safely, because Christopher loved her and would never hurt her.
“Anna, Anna, wake up, stay with me.” What was this? Christopher needed her to wake up? Then she had better do it, hadn’t she? Of course she would stay with him. He would never leave her, so she would never leave him. Oh, wake up! She had to wake up. She opened her eyes.

And screamed.

It was the cannibal! The judge, hanging, kill Charlotte, kill Christopher, eat them, help, help, God help, help, help, and when a man gets his hands on you, no one will lift a finger to help you. God? God doesn’t help women. God only helps men. We have to help each other, that’s why I’m doing this, don’t you see? Anna’s hand flew off the face that used to be Christopher’s and her words began by commanding him to go away, rapidly degenerating into a desperate plea for her life and health, “Go away! Go away! Don’t eat me! Oh please, don’t eat me, I didn’t do it on purpose! D-d-don’t eat me! Don’t h-hurt me!”
The awful man said, “Please calm down miss, I’m not going to eat you, I’m not going to hurt you. You hurt your head, please calm down...”

He just wanted to trick her into being calm so that he could hurt her worse. Mrs Humperdink had taught her that trick of theirs. And demonstrated it too. Oh God, it hurt went they did that. Anna covered her head with her arms, protecting herself as best she could as she curled into the couch, trying to present as small a target as she could. Tears pouring down her cheeks and her voice ragged with sobs, she said, “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean. I didn’t mean. D-Don’t hurt me. P-Please d-don’t hurt me. I d-didn’t mean. D-Don’t kill me. I’m sorry. I love you. I’m sorry. I d-didn’t mean. P-Please don’t hurt me. I love you. I love you. Don’t hurt me. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Wallace kept wiping the blood from her head as he kept a close eye on her respiration. If that were to halt, he’d be in big trouble. He hadn’t intended for anything to happen, but he should’ve been ready. He should’ve known that she might faint. He should’ve stood closer so he could catch her and keep her from hurting her head. He should’ve…but he didn’t. He told himself that what had happened was done, he just needed to do all he could now to keep her safe. She had fallen on his ground, he was responsible. No he was responsible wherever she had fallen. He handed back the piece of bloody cloth and exchanged it with another from Tobias in silence as suddenly, Anna began moving. Wallace breathed as sigh of relief, she could still move. Her hand flapped around in the air a few times, then found his chin in a very strange way. As if she was caressing it. Weird situation, but he decided not to react to it. Maybe she was dreaming. Probably safer not to wake her then. Excitement probably wasn’t good for her now. Keep things quiet, keep things safe and sound. Where was the doctor when you needed him…

Her hand moved around his face though, from his chin to his jaw along his cheek towards his brow. He closed his eye quickly as she came danger close to his precious retinas. He didn’t move though, he knew she didn’t want to hurt him and he didn’t want to shake her, didn’t want to surprise her. Her voice was drowsy and her speech slurred, as if her lips and tongues were too lazy to fully pronounce the words that run from her mouth. As if she had no power to fully speak. Which was of course understandable, she just had been hit in the head, he was surprised she was even barely conscious…

“Christopher? What happened?”

Christopher? Ah yeah, her brother in law, married to Charlotte. What to do? He knew he had to keep her awake if he could, help her get her mind centred, but not too fast. He couldn’t uproot her from her dream now, maybe she’d get scared again. He didn’t want her to be scared, especially if she had a head wound. He couldn’t lie to her either though. Decisions…hard, why did he always have to judge the hardest case, the cases no law ever fulfilled the emptiness of his needs? He sighed and decided to play the game, never lie…just maybe…

“You fainted… Lie still. You’re hurt.”

She stopped moving, seeming to become calmer and more safe, her small form completely relaxing and falling back on the pillow. Her breathing became slow too. So slow that he wondered if she was still…He bended closer so he could hear…“All right. I feel fine. Just sleepy. Can I talk?”

Sure she could, that way he could keep her awake, she couldn’t go to sleep right now, that might pull her into a coma. He needed her awake, focused as soon as possible…Sure she could talk to him…”“Sure, go ahead.”
Her pale, vulnerable face got that peaceful smile that in a strange way, wrung at his heart, wondering why she only showed that when she was out, dreaming or hurt…it made him feel…inadequate…“All right… what happened?” Alright, this was good, she wondered what had happened, so she knew something had happened. That was good, it showed her memory was returning. He’d just have to feed it little bits of information, keep her thinking, let her recapitulate what had happened. How to tell her he wasn’t Christopher though…maybe he didn’t need to. He could just do it like Caesar, talk about himself in third person. It felt enormously boastful, but it served it purposes…or so Wallace hoped…

“Well, you were in the drawing room and Vandenberg entered, and then you fainted and hit your head”

“I did? What was he doing here?”Even in her dream she was surprised, as such an idea did not occur to her even in the most safe place of her mind. Wallace had to admit it probably wouldn’t, she feared him… that much was clear…she feared him for no clear reason and it bothered him. There were judges out there, men out there who did the wrong thing, but hadn’t he been a clear servant of Her might, hadn’t he been just and righteous in all his works…wasn’t he liked by the people of his town that he had made…tried to make a safe haven for the just? Maybe…maybe he was the bogeyman to children…“You went to his house, you never told me why...”

“What happened?”

Ok, recapitulate again, she was still distraught, but it was better than nothing. She could still form a coherent train of thought. She went from situation, to effect to the point she was now. That was good, gave a sign that she still knew about the existence of the man made object of time. That was good…

”“I don’t know...” Well, he did know what had happened physically, she had fallen. But the why? He didn’t even hazard a guess. She had been scared…why? She had fainted…why? What could he do to stop her from doing that? He didn’t want people to faint in his mere presence…He didn’t want to seem or feel that untouchable, unreachable, inhuman…“Oh. Christopher, can I talk?”

She could, she had been, she should. He was there to be talked to, to be spoken to, to be appealed to…“Sure, keep going.”

She frowned her small brows over her closed eyelids, as if she wondered if she had talked before. Probably her short-term memory that was still a little foggy, no problem, that’d come back soon. He hoped so at least…“All right. What happened?” He repeated what he had said before in a different wording, maybe that would help. Repeat and change…“You went to Judge Vandenberg's house and when he entered the room you were waiting in, you fainted and hit your head.”

“Oh. I feel sleepy. Can I sleep?” She sighed, her eyes drooping shut again and her breathing going slower and slower, her voice losing strength again. Every muscle, every tendon and every synapse in the judge’s body jumped into one massive knot. He needed her to stay awake, couldn’t have her sag back into the black of oblivion. His voice began to fill with more concern as he spoke to her…“No Anna, you have to stay awake... Just talk to me.”

“Oh. But just a little nap?”She sounded even more removed as she reacted, even more tired, even more sleepy. Wallace got very concerned, his entire mind screamed that she couldn’t fall asleep. She couldn’t drift into a coma. He patted her cheek, softly, carefully. He didn’t want to hurt her or cause her to be hurt, but he needed her to stay a awake.

“Anna, Anna, wake up, stay with me.”

She did, she seemed to focus, pulling herself from the black miasma of unconsciousness. Her eyes opened slowly and he could see reality dawn into those great mirrors of her soul, first filled with confusion and then, suddenly, in the blink of an eye…turning to fear. She screamed, and Wallace threw his head back in surprise. He should’ve expected something like that, but he didn’t. The entire day had been a railroad of unexpected events, following one another. He just hoped the station was near, the locomotive needed a rest and the driver couldn’t keep up on the coals for long anymore.

“Go away! Go away! Don’t eat me! Oh please, don’t eat me, I didn’t do it on purpose! D-d-don’t eat me! Don’t h-hurt me!”

She couldn’t work herself up, he needed her calm. She needed to lie still so he could treat her wound. She shouldn’t exert herself. He wouldn’t hurt her…He hadn’t had he?

“Please calm down miss, I’m not going to eat you, I’m not going to hurt you. You hurt your head, please calm down...”

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean. I didn’t mean. D-Don’t hurt me. P-Please d-don’t hurt me. I d-didn’t mean. D-Don’t kill me. I’m sorry. I love you. I’m sorry. I d-didn’t mean. P-Please don’t hurt me. I love you. I love you. Don’t hurt me. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

She didn’t comply, and in a way, he hadn’t expected she would. She was afraid of him for some unnamed reason, and fear was a bad advisor. He needed to talk her through it, but he wondered if she’d listen. He’d need her to listen though. He really needed her to listen. She crossed her hands in front of her face, protecting herself as her body shook with shivers. She began crying and in a way, that was a lot worse than his smile from before. He sighed very softly.

”Ma’am, I’m not going to hurt you and haven’t had any intention of doing so. If I had wanted to, I could’ve done it while you were out. You are however hurt and it is my duty as owner of this house to treat those who have hurt themselves within it, it is my duty as a judge to offer aid and my duty as a man to help those in need. I don’t know why you feel that you must be sorry or that you fear I will hurt you, but I will not. Please, calm yourself and tell me what ails you…”

He lowered his voice to a pleading whisper as he spread his arms besides him, showing he held nothing but a white tissue that had been soaked in water.

”Please Anna, you’re safe here…”

“Ma’am, I’m not going to hurt you and haven’t had any intention of doing so. If I had wanted to, I could’ve done it while you were out.” Did he think that she was going to believe him? He could have hurt her while she was unconscious, if she actually had been—he might be lying about that too, he might have given her something to make her forget what he had done and that was why she couldn’t remember getting here. That he could do so was indubitably true, but what exactly did he think that it proved that he hadn’t done so? He could choose to hurt her at any time. Consciousness wasn’t a variable in the equation. The indisputable logical argument was:

Premise A: Men will always hurt Anna.
Premise B: Sir Vandenberg is a man.
Conclusion: Sir Vandenberg will hurt Anna.

That he hadn’t hurt her yet just meant he was waiting for a better time. Men are sneaky creatures, Anna. They wait until the opportune moment, the moment when it will hurt the most, the moment when you least expect it, the moment you trust them… Well, she wouldn’t trust him. Mrs Humperdink had taught her well. She wouldn’t be taken off guard. She knew that he would hurt her, if not now, then later. It was only a matter of time. Humperdink had… wait, Humperdink was dead. Wasn’t she? Yes, yes she was! Humperdink was evil. Charlotte had killed her. Oh yeah, no, she shouldn’t be listening to Humperdink still! Charlotte was the one she listened to now. Charlotte said that she didn’t need to be afraid of men all the time like Humperdink said. She said Humperdink was wrong. Anna opened one eye and rolled it towards Vandenberg. But he was the Crown Court Judge!

“You are however hurt and it is my duty as owner of this house to treat those who have hurt themselves within it, as it is my duty as a judge to offer aid and my duty as a man to help those in need.” Hah! His duty as a man to help those in need! His duty as a judge to offer aid! His duty as a judge would spell her end, and that of Charlotte, and that of Christopher now, too. His duty as a man to help those in need… there had been another man, once, who followed his duty to help those in need. His name had been Ormsby, and he had been pillar of the community, a priest who spent his days working with orphaned children, helping them to grow and learn and know God, and everyone who knew him said that he was a good man, a dutiful man, and many mourned his death. Except some of those little orphans, whom his sense of duty led him to violate and torture. Who could say that Vandenberg was different?

“I don’t know why you feel that you must be sorry or that you fear I will hurt you, but I will not. Please, calm yourself and tell me what ails you…” She wasn’t sorry at all, that was just what they always wanted to hear. I’m sorry, it was my fault, you have the power, please don’t use it. What ailed her? You’re going to hurt me, you’re going to kill me, you’re going to kill Charlotte too, and Christopher, you’re a cannibal and a judge, the worst sort of combination, you’re going to kill everyone I love and me too, and just because you don’t understand that maybe it was right to murder them both, it was right for me to hide it and it’s right for Christopher to protect us now too. I’m not sorry and I won’t ever be but you won’t understand that you’ll just think I’m the worst sort of person and Charlotte’s even worse and you’ll kill us both and…

And then he sat back from her, holding his arms open, and she saw that he had only a cloth in one hand. His voice strangely pleading, he whispered, “Please Anna, you’re safe here…”

She stared at him. Christopher had said that to her. Christopher had sat by her side when she had fainted on him, too, all those years ago. Christopher hadn’t hurt her. He’d just assured her that she was safe, that she didn’t need to fear him, that he loved her as a sister. He wanted to marry Charlotte. Could she trust him enough to forgive him for it? Anna had laughed at the absurdity of that, but she had thought about it over the years and had realised that he was right. And she had trusted him, and he had never betrayed her trust, just as Charlotte had never betrayed her trust. Which didn’t, of course, mean that Sir Vandenberg deserved to be trusted. It only brought to her mind that there were good men in the world, and she remembered from somewhere that she had promised herself to stop being a little girl.

When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I thought as a child, I reasoned as a child; when I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways.

It was childish to be so scared of him, it was. She shouldn’t judge him just because he was a man. Yes, she should! Men were all evil. No they weren’t. Christopher wasn’t. But everyone else was. No, they weren’t. Yes, they were. No, they weren’t. Wothersham wasn’t evil to Nora. Where had that come from? Wothersham was a cold, stern man who never smiled and he was probably like the judge and a cannibal and she had lost Nora over a decade ago, almost two, when she had left the orphanage. Christopher wasn’t evil. Oh, but the judge was, for sure. She had stolen from him. Oh, she had stolen from him! That was why she was here! To give it back and hope that he would only punish her! Anna sat up suddenly, grabbing for the reticule she could see had fallen on the nearby coffee table. The room lurched around her and she made two tries to get it, but she snatched it and began to rummage in it.

She tried to explain herself and excuse Charlotte and Christopher and beg for mercy all at once as she tried to find the medallion. “It’s h-here, I-I’m sorry, I have it, I t-took it, I-I-I s-st-stole it, i-it was my f-fault, I’m s-sorry, th-they d-din’t know a-anything a-about it, my f-fault, mine, I took it, d-don’t hurt me, d-d-don’t hang me, my fault, n-not Charlotte, mine, n-nobody knew, I-I’m sorry, n-not Christopher too, n-nobody, don’t h-hang them, h-here, here, here here here don’t hurt me I’m sorry I h-have it here my fault I’m sorry it wasn’t them me mine my fault mine I’m sorry don’t hurt me don’t I didn’t mean I didn’t know don’t hurt me I’m sorry please don’t hurt me here here here I have it I’m sorry have it back here it’s yours don’t hurt me don’t hurt me please don’t hurt me don’t hurt me I’m sorry don’t hurt me don’t hurt me I’m sorry.”

Very suddenly she stopped saying anything at all, having finally gotten a grip on the medallion. She pulled it out and thrust it at Sir Vandenberg, curling her other arm around her head and tilting her chin down so that when he hit her, it would hurt less. Or at least maybe do less damage.

Anna was still curled up in the sofa, her arms above her head and chest and her legs curled against her chest, reminiscent of the turtle’s shell. If she had been able, Wallace guessed she would’ve just disappeared, just dissolved into nothingness, leaving him wondering what was wrong. Sometimes, his job really bites. She did however relax slightly as he kept talking into her, her small and slender arms dropping slightly to allow a part of her face to be seen, one eye, one of those big luminescent oculars turning to him with suspicion clearly turned to him. What could he say more? She had come hear, in her mind into the demon’s lair and he had no idea why. If he knew why, he might be able to help her more effectively, but she was obviously not going to tell him. He sighed, this might take a long time, but that was his job, and his time was of no consequence here.

Suddenly, she moved, shooting upwards like a string had been connected to her head and her spine was replaced by a spring. She sat up as if she was possessed, but she didn’t look at him. She looked past him, towards where her reticule had fallen to the floor. She made a grab for it and Wallace tried to stop her, ”Miss, lie still, you might hurt yourself…”. She ignored him, missing the bag, and any attempt to get it for himself were blocked when she tried again two more times. Her body blocked every access to it and when she finally got it again, the temporary steel and certainty flooded from her. If it had ever been there, maybe fear had once more give her temporary rigidity, before it made her collapse again. She frantically tried to find something in her reticule, every move giving that distinct aura of fear another word. A river of words streamed from her lips and made it very hard for Wallace to intellectually keep up with all the information…or hints to what was wrong, she was giving him.

“It’s h-here, I-I’m sorry, I have it, I t-took it, I-I-I s-st-stole it, i-it was my f-fault, I’m s-sorry, th-they d-din’t know a-anything a-about it, my f-fault, mine, I took it, d-don’t hurt me, d-d-don’t hang me, my fault, n-not Charlotte, mine, n-nobody knew, I-I’m sorry, n-not Christopher too, n-nobody, don’t h-hang them, h-here, here, here here here don’t hurt me I’m sorry I h-have it here my fault I’m sorry it wasn’t them me mine my fault mine I’m sorry don’t hurt me don’t I didn’t mean I didn’t know don’t hurt me I’m sorry please don’t hurt me here here here I have it I’m sorry have it back here it’s yours don’t hurt me don’t hurt me please don’t hurt me don’t hurt me I’m sorry don’t hurt me don’t hurt me I’m sorry.”

It seemed she finally had found what she was looking for, and clinging onto it like it was her only hope for survival, her thin hand clutching it so strong that Wallace couldn’t see it as it sped towards him. He could just dodge the thing as it sailed to his concerned face, weaving to the side as if she had thrown a punch at him, which would’ve had the same effect if it had connected. He studied whatever was lodged in that delicate grasp of hers, taking into view the bronze chain that hung from it, snapped half-way the clasp and the gilded sheen that originated from between her tightly clutched fingers. He saw it was circular and had slightly raised edges. It was his medallion…

He slowly laid his hands on top of hers as she curled up, her other arm again shielding her face. He didn’t do anything for a moment, just held his hands on hers and then smiled softly. This was what she had been so afraid for? This was why she had been begging for her life and that of her friends and family? He didn’t hang people for no reason, if he had his way, he hung nobody at all. ”May I?” He softly peeled her fingers open until her hand was open and took the medallion away softly, seeing that its form had been embedded in her hand. He threw it towards Tobias, who caught it and lay it besides him on the table. Wallace just held her hand very softly for a long time, just looking at her calmly. Then spoke.

”Anna, like I said before, I’m not going to hurt you and I wouldn’t, not over something as unimportant as this. You probably found the medallion in your possession after the ball, how I do not know, but it’s back now. I don’t think you stole it, I think some coincidences just came together and brought it into your possession. I‘m not angry, the point is that I got it back and there‘s no harm done…”

He let go of her hand and sat back, continuing. ”I’m more concerned however, that you might hurt yourself over it, and you already did. You hit your head on the coffee-table, and there’s a doctor on the way, I’m going to ask you to stay here until we’re sure that you’re alright. After that, I’ll bring you home to Charlotte and Christopher again, is that alright?”

“May I?” Of course he might. He could and would. How was she to stop him? He was a man, with greater strength, and doubtless the greater will to use it. Anna made absolutely no resistance though, nodding as if it actually made a difference, since he had bothered himself to ask. He peeled back her fingers, and her hand shook as he looked at his medallion, which she had been clutching so tightly that it had imprinted itself on her. Imagine that! Now she would have, at least until the blood came back to her hand and it faded, yet another text on her body. Fiat iustitia, ne pereat mundus. Now was when he would hang her. After a moment, when nothing happened, she lowered her arm enough to look at him through one eye, and found Sir Vandenberg just raising his arm. Oh God! He was going to punish her right now, and not wait for a hanging!

Whimpering, she hid her face again and waited for the blow to fall. But there was only a small metallic rattle, and then another one further away, and a chink as someone put something on a hard surface. Anna wondered what he was waiting for. Maybe, he wanted her to see the blow coming? Perhaps he was sadistic enough to want to aim directly for her eyes… she kept waiting, and nothing kept happening. Finally she ventured to lower her head enough to be able to see under her arm, since that way she could still protect her eyes, and she found him only calmly looking at her. He had got her hand in both of his now. She hid again, in case he was angry that she had looked, but still he didn’t hit her, and she didn’t feel his hands move. What was going on? After waiting for another couple minutes, she very slowly lowered her arm. She had just got up the courage to try and say something to him, but at that moment he began to speak, so of course she said nothing.

He said, “Anna, like I said before, I’m not going to hurt you and I wouldn’t, not over something as unimportant as this.” Oh yes he would. They all would. That was just the way they were. No, that wasn’t right. Charlotte said it wasn’t. Christopher didn’t hurt people. “You probably found the medallion in your possession after the ball, how I do not know, but it’s back now.” Yes! That was how it had happened! He understood! Anna wanted to tell him he was right, and ask if since that was how it was if he wouldn’t be willing to spare her, but she couldn’t get the breath into her dry throat to do it. “I don’t think you stole it, I think some coincidences just came together and brought it into your possession. I’m not angry, the point is that I got it back and there‘s no harm done…” Oh! Oh good! Maybe he was even telling the truth! Please let that be how it was! Anna hoped desperately, and found nothing to say, only looking at him pleadingly.

“I’m more concerned however, that you might hurt yourself over it, and you already did.” That was kind of him to be concerned. If he really was. He didn’t look very concerned. Yes, he did? Maybe. It could just be that he only looked evil. “You hit your head on the coffee-table, and there’s a doctor on the way—” Anna didn’t hear anything else he said. No, no doctors, he couldn’t call a doctor. A doctor would look at her, a doctor would touch her, a doctor would make her take off her dress so that he could put the cold thing to her heart and then they would both see the bible verses scarred into her because of course Sir Vandenberg wouldn’t leave because he was no gentleman although it might be worse if he didn’t because then the doctor could take advantage of her and then again they were both men so they would all be in cahoots anyway and it didn’t really matter how many of them there were because she was going to end up tortured anyway.

She desperately told him, “No! No! I have to go home! Sorry, thank you, goodbye, I have to go home, goodbye, don’t hurt sorry, goodbye goodbye home.” She stood up to make good on her words, but she only got halfway up before the judge also rose, and his overwhelming presence, combined with the concussion she had received from the coffee-table incident, conspired to make her feel dizzy and faint. She collapsed back onto the sopha. Curling on her side, she cried out for help, not that there was anyone who cared that would hear her. “Don’t hurt meee… Charlotte, help me… they’re going to touch me… doctor, he’ll look… heeeeeelp… heeeeelp… Charlotte… heeeeeeelp… Christopher... they’ll hurt meeeeee… heeeeeelp… heeeeeelp…”

At the mention of the word doctor, she stiffened and her already large, luminous eyes went larger still. They grew so big that Wallace wondered how much more afraid anyone could seem. Anna was as thin as a reed, and stiff so that she could not bend. She looked as if she broke in the slightest breeze, broken repeatedly already. In panic, she rose from the sofa, her legs finding strength in that enormous stress she seemed to be under. Her voice mirrored that fear and anxiety, shaking like a leaf in a thunderstorm. As she rose, she too shivered, as if she was “De lange wapper” dancing on the docks of Antwerps, spinning and falling to the floor. She had no secure footing.

“No! No! I have to go home! Sorry, thank you, goodbye, I have to go home, goodbye, don’t hurt sorry, goodbye goodbye home.”
”Anna, no, please…”

Wallace rose up to keep her from hurting herself as she began to fall over again, but as he rose, she fell on the couch again. The nausea she must be feeling was probably overwhelming.

“Don’t hurt meee… Charlotte, help me… they’re going to touch me… doctor, he’ll look… heeeeeelp… heeeeelp… Charlotte… heeeeeeelp… Christopher... they’ll hurt meeeeee… heeeeeelp… heeeeeelp…”

She rolled away from him, to her side, curling her back towards him like a turtle hiding in its shell. Only this shell was fragile and soft, offering no protection at all. Her body quivered with each breath she drew. Her voice was soft, too soft to be called a scream, but too painful to be called anything but. She called out to anyone who she knew she could trust, her sister and her brother in law. The only two that never seemed to have wronged her were all others had. Or all others had just stood there. Wallace had no idea what to do. This wasn’t what he’d been taught about, read about or ever heard about. He wasn’t a person who people confided in, he was a judge. He took care of justice. But taking care of justice was taking care of people, wasn’t it? And if being just was being good, being good meant helping, then he had to help Anna. Like he needed to explain that to himself. He had to because he couldn’t do anything else but help. He turned to Tobias, his voice soft and calm, more composed than he felt and more certain than he thought he was.

”Blanket please.”

Tobias nodded and got up, swiftly and silently walking to the door to get what the judge had asked of him. Wallace was left alone, knelt behind a young woman who was so fearful that it tore at his heart and there was little he could do right now. She was still wounded and a small trickle of blood still seeped from her head, but he couldn’t touch her. She was too scared already. He just waited until his servant and confidante came back with a thick blanket in his hands, which he handed to Wallace.

”Thanks Tobias.” He said as he got up and folded it open softly, making no sudden moves, just pulling it through the air like one does, letting it fall on Anna slowly. He draped it around her shivering frame, covering her up, giving her at least a sense of security to derive from the cloth. He spoke very softly to her as he did this.

”Anna, we’re not going to hurt you and the doctor’s only going to see if he can do something about your head wound. Once that’s done I’ll take you to Christopher and Charlotte. Please, trust me. I swear I won’t hurt you…now just stay still until the doctor comes so he can take a look at your head, alright.”

He clacked his tongue softly like one does to a frightened horse and repeated over and over again that she was safe, that nobody would hurt her. That she was safe, that she’d go back to Charlotte soon until the doctor arrived…

Needless to say, Charlotte and Christopher did not come. Not that she had really expected them to come, because she knew she was on her own. She was entirely on her own. She remembered now. She had come here on her own on purpose. What a stupid idea that had been. She probably deserved to be tortured for being that foolish. What kind of idiot would go alone to Sir Vandenberg’s house? It was beyond words, beyond ken, that kind of stupidity. Oh, why hadn’t she taken them with her? The judge’s voice rang above her, and she waited for the ruling that would spell her doom: “Blanket please.” What? That wasn’t what she had been sure he would say. Hang her, please, was more like it. What did he want with a blanket? Who did he want it from? Her? What was he going to do with it if he got one?

Smother her! Of course, because that was the least messy way to kill someone. Our Father, Who art in Heaven, Hallowed be Thy Name. Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done— “Thanks Tobias.” Who was Tobias? And then her fear-muddled mind realised what he meant, and she knew who Tobias was. Tobias was another man. In this room. With Sir Vandenberg. He was probably his head hangman. And he was here for one purpose and one purpose only, of course. To torture her. Were they going to do it together? Or one after the other? Mrs Humperdink said men did that sometimes with women, but some didn’t like going after others so they just tortured both parts of the body at once. And then she’d demonstrated. Oh, God help her, that hurt worse than anything, almost!

Anna felt something touch her leg, and she nearly fainted. They were starting. She waited for the pain, but all that happened was that a pressure settled all over her body. She would have thought Sir Vandenberg would be heavier than that when he covered her. Maybe it was Tobias. Weren’t they supposed to turn you over first? Anna curled into an even tighter ball. She wouldn’t be turned. She clutched her dress and shawl around herself for the insignificant protection they could offer, and found extra, thicker cloth in her hands. What was it? She peered at it. A blanket, a heavy blanket. Oh. That was what was on her, it wasn’t one of them after all. Instantly she huddled under it, shivering. With a blanket there, it would be harder to get to her. Who had put it there? She rolled her gaze up to see, and Sir Vandenberg’s horrible visage met it.

She closed her eyes immediately, but it was too late. He saw and began to speak softly. “Anna, we’re not going to hurt you and the doctor’s only going to see if he can do something about your head wound.” Like she was going to be foolish enough to believe that! But then, maybe he thought she was, since she’d been stupid enough to come here alone. “Once that’s done I’ll take you to Christopher and Charlotte.” Well, at least she would be avenged, then. Charlotte would take one look at her mangled body and kill him on the spot. “Please, trust me.” Haha! She wasn’t that stupid! She would never trust him, ever. “I swear I won’t hurt you…now just stay still until the doctor comes so he can take a look at your head, alright.” Where was she going to move? He would strike her down if she tried. She cowered under the blanket, waiting for the nightmare to come.

Except that it never did. Sir Vandenberg only continued talking softly, every now and again clicking his tongue. Eventually, the simple repetition and calm monotony of his reassurances began to percolate through the fear and panic to sooth Anna. But he was a man, which was synonymous with evil. And the Devil had tricksters and such that could appear as angels, it wouldn’t be difficult for a bad man to appear good. Had Charlotte hated him? No, she’d only been wary. Charlotte was a good judge of character, wasn’t she? The tongue-clicking, someone else she knew did that, when they were thinking. Someone who wasn’t bad. Who was it? Oh, Mr Pryer. She was scared of him too. That wasn’t any help after all. But it was a gentle noise, and Sir Vandenberg’s voice was very gentle too, and… maybe? But he was calling a doctor. Doctors were evil. But! Maybe he didn’t know.

Maybe, maybe Sir Vandenberg was one of those very few men who were not evil. It could theoretically be possible. And he hadn’t hurt her yet, and he sounded like he wouldn’t. Maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe, what the problem was, was that he didn’t understand that doctors were all evil. She had never met one that wasn’t. They always poked at her and prodded her and asked questions and looked at her and they were all evil. Bar none. But maybe Sir Vandenberg didn’t understand that? Maybe he just didn’t see it, because he never got sick so he didn’t know, and he trusted too much because there were people like that, that trusted too much and didn’t know that most of the world was evil. A cautious flicker of hope stirred within her. If that was the case, then maybe she could reason with him.

But she couldn’t be expected to look at him while she did it. No one would think that she had to do that, not when he looked so unfriendly. Anna huddled under the blanket, pulling it up until it rested over her face and hair as well as her curled-up body. Her head entirely covered by the blanket, Anna tried to appeal to whatever better side Sir Vandenberg might have. “Please, please, not a doctor. Please don’t. Please. Please. I just want to go home. Please. Let me go home. I want to go home. Please.”

The blanket seemed to be doing its job, Wallace had soon found out that people took comfort out of illusions of safety, clothing, warmth and such were often seen as indications of safety and security. This was something very important in his profession, men who would look down the nose at him and remain silent when dressed in their finery and covered in their thick cloaks to shield them from his gaze would crack and speak of all he knew when confronted with that same gaze, dressed only in the prisoner outfit. It were minute changes in all their truth, but important still, for details were where plans failed or thrived. He hoped it would give her the illusion that was actually truth. To seem what was so to speak, he wanted her to feel safe because she was safe here.

At first it didn’t seem to help, she curled even tighter into that protective ball-shape that was intended to protect the vital organs of the organism against attack. Of course, it wasn’t too effective against anything, but the move alone was enough to show what the situation was. He just waited, calmly reciting over and over again that she was safe and that he wouldn’t hurt her. A monotonous recitation of truths that was delivered like calm hypnosis, spoon-fed to her panicking consciousness. She remained huddled underneath the thick fabric of the blanket, but at least she wasn’t shivering or shaking anymore, and her chest didn’t move as swiftly anymore. She began speaking, a peeping sound from underneath a blanket that would’ve been funny if it hadn’t been that serious. Peeping high like a mouse, especially from underneath the blanket where one could not see the dreadful sincerity of her emotions gave the scene a hilarious cast, one that would be seen in a comedy of Molière. “The Paranoid Person”, “La femme de la peur.” Only this wasn’t a play, even though it was on the stage of life.

“Please, please, not a doctor. Please don’t. Please. Please. I just want to go home. Please. Let me go home. I want to go home. Please.”

Wallace knew she wanted to go home, that was normal, return to known and familiar surroundings, hide in ones burrow, he knew that she wanted it, but he couldn’t let her just yet. She might have hit her head harder than either of them knew, an interior bleeding or major concussion might be products of that impact. He couldn’t risk that of course, and a doctor would just have to take a look at her head before they left.

”I know Anna and in a bit you’ll be home, I promise, but I can’t just leave you with a bleeding head wound and possible concussion. I promise that he won’t hurt you either and as soon as he’s treated your head, me and Tobias here will take you home straight-away. Alright?”

She didn’t really get time to reply as at that point as a light rap on the door disturbed them, a woman’s head bent in through the partially opening door, asking with a hushed voice.

”Sir, the doctor has arrived”

Wallace decided that it might be best to beat the iron while it was still hot, to smith it when she might still listen before fear once more overcame her. This needed to be dealt with so he could bring her home again, knowing fully well that she was safe.

”Send him in.” He quickly turned back to Anna, who was still huddled underneath her blanket like a snail inside the confines of his shell. Softly, almost like a whisper, he spoke to her again. ”Anna, please, rest assured, he won’t hurt you. He just needs to see your head so we can be sure its alright. As soon as he’s treated you, we’ll take you home. Just show him the wound so he can treat it and it’ll be over, the sooner the better, no?”

(OOC: Peeps should know this by the amount Bavo and I have done it before, but just in case, official notice is given that all dialogue was worked out with him on MSN)

It seemed like Sir Vandenberg was going to listen. “I know, Anna…” But then it turned out he wasn’t going to after all. “…and in a bit you’ll be home, I promise, but I can’t just leave you with a bleeding head wound and possible concussion. I promise that he won’t hurt you either and as soon as he’s treated your head, me and Tobias here will take you home straight-away. Alright?” No. It wasn’t all right. How could Sir Vandenberg promise that some other man wouldn’t hurt her? He wasn’t that other man, was he? How was he going to know? And Tobias… Tobias was the head hangman! She didn’t want him to take her home! Nor the judge, either. She wanted to go home by herself. She wanted Charlotte. She wanted Christopher. But she did not want the doctor to look at her and she did not want Sir Vandenberg and Tobias to take her home.

She was about to protest again but it was already too late because the doctor hadn’t listened to her and called off the doctor because that awful henchman of his said, “Sir, the doctor has arrived.”
And Sir Vandenberg, his voice resonating with evil and malice, decreed, “Send him in.”
Why? Why did men have to be like that? Why? And then he came back beside her, and his voice was almost reasonable again, but this time she wasn’t going to be taken in again. That had happened once already, it wouldn’t happen again. Humperdink was right. They waited until you were off-guard and trusted them and then they took advantage of it. He was only pretending to be reasonable and understanding when he said, “Anna, please, rest assured, he won’t hurt you. He just needs to see your head so we can be sure it’s alright. As soon as he’s treated you, we’ll take you home. Just show him the wound so he can treat it and it’ll be over, the sooner the better, no?”

No. Not the sooner the better. The later the better, because then it would mean that she had more time before they started torturing her. Unless they just made it go on really long, then that wouldn’t be better. She whimpered to herself, huddling under the blanket, waiting for the end, and heard a sinister, malevolent voice say, “Sir Vandenberg.”
It was him, it was the devil’s follower, the man sent to poke and prod and ultimately be disgusted with and discard her. And then the fiend was beside her, trying to pull the blanket off her head. She held it down tightly, feeling it crush her hair into her head—there must actually be a wound there, then, or maybe Sir Vandenberg had just hit her there and she fell unconscious and couldn’t remember—but she didn’t care. She would fight to hide under here, yes, yes, she would, she would fight just like Charlotte.

Except Charlotte wouldn’t have been so stupid as to come here by herself. What kind of idiot did that? “No, no, no, no,” Anna whimpered, and the pulling on the blanket stopped for a moment.
She couldn’t see it, but Dr Harcourt was looking at Sir Vandenberg as if for directions. It was obviously hysteria of some type, but he was not sure how far the judge wanted him to insist on treating the wound.
Sir Vandenberg said, “Miss Sutcliffe is slightly...distraught...” Then the judge looked at the blanket that Anna was hiding under, and said, gently but insistently, “Anna, please let the doctor do his job. It’ll be alright...”
Anna thought about it, rationally and calmly. Of course it would not be all right. But then, it wasn’t going to be all right anyway, was it? No matter what happened, she would get hurt. That was the way it was. And by fighting to stay hidden, she might be just making them mad, inciting them to hurt her even worse than they already were going to. Humperdink said that happened often. Anna slowly pulled the blanket down to her neck, exposing her head. She covered her face with one hand for as much protection as she thought she might get away with.

“Don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me, please, don’t hurt me,” she began to plead, but of course, it did no good. The doctor parted her hair and brought up a bottle, and pour something over the wound. It hurt. Anna’s eyes, already wet, began to pour tears again, but she ceased to beg for mercy. She said nothing, silently submitting to the pain, and the idea of the even greater pain to come. There was nothing she could do. No one would help her. She deserved this for her foolishness; she had come alone, without Charlotte or Christopher, and everything was happening exactly as Humperdink had said it would if men ever caught her alone. This was her punishment for having loved anyone other than Humperdink. She had been disloyal and had loved Charlotte and Christopher, and if she hadn’t, then she wouldn’t have tried to protect them and she wouldn’t be here now. She was being punished for it, just like she got punished every time Humperdink suspected that she loved Nora.

Doctor Harcourt began to cleanse the wound with a cotton pad, abrading it slightly, and examining it. He commented to Wallace that it wasn’t bad—only a small concussion and a lot of blood, nothing life-threatening. He finished cleaning it out, and said, “The wound doesn't need sewing.” Taking a bandage from his bag, he took Anna’s hand and put it in her palm, placing it to her head and advising her, “Just keep that there for another ten minutes and you should be fine.”
As soon the doctor took his hand away, however, Anna’s hand fell back, letting the bandage go. The doctor looked at Wallace again, and the judge stood up and said, “Thank you, sir, your help was much appreciated. Would you mind if we settle the bill on a later date? I’ll take care of Miss Sutcliffe from here.”
Doctor Harcourt, looking at Wallace in a decidedly suspicious fashion, nevertheless packed up his bag and said, “Of course, Sir. I do hope your... young friend... recovers from this.” He bowed and left, Wallace escorting him partway and then leaving him to Tobias’ care. He glanced behind himself many times but did not turn back.

Anna, on the couch, possibly semi-delirious and certainly quite upset, was still ignoring the bandage beside her head as Wallace walked back to her. He picked it up, watching her as she trembled and whimpered, “No, no, no,” over and over again. Seeing the wound beading blood again, he sat carefully next to her and held the compress up to her, saying, “Anna, Anna, listen to me, take a deep breath… and let go…”
She exhibited no change in behaviour, not even seeming to have heard. He said, “Put it against your head, then we’ll go to Charlotte again...”
Anna, not about to believe that he would ever let her see Charlotte (and did she even deserve to see Charlotte, that was another question, and the answer was no, but oh, she wanted to so bad that it hurt her heart worse than Sir Vandenberg was hurting her head) scrunched herself down under the blanket as far as she could get without disturbing Sir Vandenberg. There was no need to provoke him into violence faster than necessary.

She mumbled indistinctly, “Charlotte, I want Charlotte. I just want to go home.”

Wallace saw the look the doctor directed him as he said those words that seemed to be full of an insulting kind of insinuation. The judge didn’t care what people thought about him most of the time, but there were limits of course. The way the doctor looked at him and spoke to him was an insult that had it been delivered openly and not hidden in looks and poisonous words, would’ve demanded satisfaction by the blade. Vandenburg glared at the man, daring him to formulate those thoughts that spilled inside his mind, his glare had a very dark edge and the doctor looked away quickly. He might care just enough to give the man a bit of a lesson in manners when he had an opening in his agenda…But he had more important fish to fry than puncturing the ego and illusions of a man who jumped facts to a conclusion.

He looked at Anna again and drew his face back into the calm position she seemed to prefer, or seemed to cause her the least distress if such a thing were possible. She just sat there, asking for Charlotte. It wrenched at his heart, but it was almost over now. It would soon be out of his hands and he would be certain he had done all he could. He wasn’t adapted to this, he wasn’t schooled in this, if any school could teach a man to handle this. He was a man of compassion, or believed he was, but even compassion did not give insight in what to do, aside from feeling sorry for her. He went over to her again and picked up the compress the doctor had made for her, holding it out to her and watching her. He spoke again, his voice controlled tightly to show only calm and care.

"We'll take you there Anna, but only if you promise to keep the pressure on your wound, alright? Then I'll carry you to the carriage and have Tobias drive you home...unless you can stand yourself that is..."

She didn’t take the compress, just looked at him with those huge doe-eyes of her. She seemed to flower for a moment, trying to push herself of the couch as she swung her thing legs over the side of it, the blanket falling on the couch as she gingerly rose from the cushioned comfort of the seating. "I can stand! I can stand! Look, look, look, I can stand!” But Wallace saw she couldn’t, wavering as she stood still and finally losing her balance again and dropping heavily back on the couch that held her before. "No, no, no, I can stand, I can, I can, I have to go home, no Tobias no, no, no, no home myself, please?"

Wallace sighed, he wasn’t equipped to do this. He couldn’t really stand those pleading looks she threw to him. Doing something for someone’s own good always implied a certain amount of brutality and it seemed that he would have to be brutal, like the physician that sets to leg to keep it from growing crooked. Seemed like those nasty jobs always fell to him. He wondered why, was it because he was equipped to perform them? Or just because fortune favoured him to her fool? He raised his voice to pierce her protests, to try to get her to listen to him…

"Anna, listen to me for once! You can't stand, let alone walk, you've got a headwound. I'm not going to let you go home alone. Charlotte would be very cross with me if I did that." He looked at Tobias. "We'll use the blanket as a stretcher, you take the head, I'll take the feet." The man nodded, agreeing with the plan. She would turn absolutely hysterical if they touched her, but they needed to carry her. This solved both problems.

"I do listen. I do, I do. I'm sorry, I'm a bad person. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'll listen better. I love you. Please don't hurt me, I didn't mean it, I'm sorry. I'll listen better. Please, please, I'll listen, don't hurt me. I love you. You have to believe me, I love you. I love you so much."


Anna however, chose not to listen to him. She collapsed back fully, her body curling on the couch and her hands around her head, retracting like a turtle into her safe little shell, her cries wrenched at his heart, but he steeled it. His job was to get her home now, safely and soundly. "Anna, you're not listening..." He gave up at that point though, his patience was something few had ever complained about, but it wore very thin now. He steeled himself and made a choice. If she wouldn’t listen, he’d have to prove he was truthful. He signalled Tobias. “Alright, just lie still, it’ll be alright soon…” Tobias and he silently tended to carrying her, their combined muscles lifting her shockingly light for up easily. They took a hold of the four edges of the cloth and began carrying her through the house, towards the carriage waiting for them outside. Anna was blubbering all the way to the vehicle.

"I am listening. I'll be still. I'll be so still. I'm sorry. I was wrong, I know. I know I was. It was my fault. I didn't listen well enough before. But I did listen! I remember! Love must be sincere. Love does no harm to its neighbor. Therefore love is the fulfillment of the law. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always preserves. Love never fails. I did listen. I do remember. I'm sorry I'm a bad person. Please forgive me. I love you..."

Wallace felt bad about it, felt bad about him scaring her so much while he had done her nothing wrong. He didn’t like to scare those who didn’t deserve it. He had sworn to protect, to serve. Tobias stepped into the carriage and settled Anna on one of the benches, putting a pillow underneath her head and then quickly leaving the interior of the carriage. He closed the door behind him and climbed the top of the thing, sliding on the bench as Wallace took a position at his side. He snapped the whip and turned to his employer as they started on a controlled but swift canter.

"Why did I have to carry the talking end?

Wallace showed no hint of a smile as he replied.

”You’re better-looking than I am.”

They headed off towards the house of their wounded guest, anxious to get rid of her and worried about her both.

”Something’s really wrong with the gal.”

Wallace nodded, that was gods own truth…