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“Let me nurse him. He needs aid…”
    “Julia,” her father sighed. “That’s no duty for a young lady, and it wouldn’t look proper to—“
    “If you take him to my room, Mrs. Starks can look in on us?” Julia pleaded.
    “Very well,” he sighed, appearing wearied and not wanting an argument. He turned to the male servants. “Attend to it, please.”

Chapter 5
     
    Ed Bolt floated in semi-consciousness for a long while, listening to a tinkling melody that was soothing in its simplicity. His face and chest were lavished with warm caresses, and there seemed to be no reason to stir. He had never felt so much at peace.
    It was not until the pain came again, spiking through his head like a cold iron needle, that he was finally forced to open his eyes.
    A young girl looked down at him, her big, pale blue eyes wide with curiosity. Her red-orange hair hung around her freckled face like a flaming veil, and her mouth was half-open as if she was about to speak, the parted pink lips revealing her pearly teeth and a dainty, pointed tongue.
    “Little girl,” Ed said. “Who else … uhh … your parents, where am I …”
    “I’m not a little girl,” she said in a squeaky voice, and closed her eyes, as if embarrassed. “I’m twenty years of age.”
    “Okay.” Ed breathed in deeply, tried to focus. The hurt in his head throbbed hard, threatening to scramble his thoughts. “Who are … parents? I’m Constable Bolt, I need to tell …”
    “I know who you are, Constable,” the girl said. “I am so pleased to finally meet you! I’m Julia Powell. My father is Rector Powell.” She said this last bit without a hint of pride in her voice, as if she had simply announced that her father was the village butcher.
    “The Rector?” Ed tried to pick his head up from the pillow, but a wave of dizziness hit him. He sucked in a breath and tried again.
    This time, he was able to look up and around the room. It was definitely the domain of a wealthy female. There was lace everywhere, bottles and boxes of every color, a painting of trumpeting girl-angels dancing on a cloud in their gilded frame.
    The music came from a music box set on top of a chest of drawers, two figures twirling upon it in a mechanical dance. Next to the chest of drawers was a case lined with books—though Ed’s vision was blurred and he could not make out the titles on the volumes. The single small window above the book-case had iron bars set on the other side of the glass.
    “I told him I’d watch over you,” she said. “He wanted Reverend Mott to do it, but I asked him to let me. It’s a lady’s work, tending a wounded hero.”
    “Hero?” Ed asked groggily.
    “Well … " she looked down for a moment, embarrassed. Patches of crimson bloomed on her pale cheeks. “I didn’t use that exact word with father, but … You went into the cave, right? You saw the flashes of light, and the silver needle… and you knew you had to investigate. You would not let yourself be … umm … discouraged.”
    “Yeah, I guess I did.” He didn’t bother to tell her that he had only entered the cave because a screeching thing with a skull’s grin had been chasing him at the time.
    “What is your first name, Constable Bolt?” she asked, blinking rapidly, those sad blue eyes holding some expectation that he didn’t understand.
    “Edwin,” he said.
    “Edwin,” she repeated slowly, as if savoring the sound of it, “you have a very dark and stormy countenance.”
    “Huh?”
    She fumbled for something on a table beside the bed. He tried to sit up to see what she was doing, and this time he succeeded without too much dizziness. The covers fell down as he rose, and he realized that his chest was bare.
    Julia lifted an opened book from the table. Next to it was a small bowl filled with water, with a wet cloth soaking in it. To his slight embarrassment, Ed realized that the warm sensation he’d felt earlier had been Julia bathing him.
    She flipped through the