The Hauptmann’s regiment was part of their army. She wished them all gone . . . from the Hauptmann to von Bissing. That included the Major. “I hope the Hauptmann will not be back in this house.”
“No,” the Major said, frowning. “He will not be invited again.”
Edward retrieved the hat, still on the floor along with the fallen gloves, then took Isa’s elbow with his free hand. Only Herr Lutz stood at the door with Genny nearby.
Herr Lutz accepted his things. “Von Eckhart left in a hurry,” he said in German to the Major. “Did he misbehave once more?”
The Major said nothing, but that seemed a satisfactory answer for the other man. Herr Lutz bowed stiffly Isa’s way, thanking her for the evening. Then he left.
Finally the door closed and their “guests” were gone. Isa began a deep breath, but her gaze fell on the Major. Too soon for that breath of relief.
As if he’d read her thoughts, he moved toward the base of the stairs. But he turned to Genny before battling the sixteen steps ahead of him. “I wish to thank you—all of you—for an entertaining evening. I bid you good night, then.”
No one spoke, and as he topped the stairs using the polished walnut railing, Genny turned away. She went toward the kitchen. “I’m going to help Clara,” she said over her shoulder, as if leaving it up to Isa and Edward whether they would join her or not.
Isa followed, and so did Edward.
“Since I’m here,” Edward whispered to Isa once they were well away from the Major, “I’ll work on refitting the press. Send Clara out of the kitchen so she won’t notice where I’m going.”
That proved easy with so many abandoned dishes still left to retrieve from the dining room. Both Isa and Genny offered to help, and Edward was gone when they came back to the kitchen.
It was quite late by the time the kitchen was neat again. Clara thanked them for their help before excusing herself for the night.
Alone with Genny, Isa said, “I found it interesting that God chose Edward to defend Him tonight, didn’t you?”
“He’s not letting go, is He?”
Isa shook her head, looking toward the pantry door. “Will you wait up for him with me?”
“No, I’m tired. Go downstairs; tell him he needs to leave before it gets too late.”
Isa had hoped for an excuse to wait for Edward, but this was better. A reason to join him.
So she went down the stairs, noiselessly letting herself into the secret room. Edward stood on an upturned crate above the main casting of what looked to be a bigger press than she’d expected.
“Have you ever noticed this little opening up here next to the light? What room is above here?” No greeting, just the question.
“The dining room. Or the butler’s hall. I can’t be sure.”
“And above that?”
“That would most likely be the music room.”
“I’d like to take a look there.”
“What will you be searching for? I might be of some help.”
“I have a feeling that opening might have served as some kind of warning system for those who used this room before us.”
“Henri can show us if he knows.”
Edward returned his attention to the pieces in front of him, having placed them in some sort of order. “We’ll have to test for noise once we have it running, perhaps use mattresses to absorb the sound if necessary. Have you any extra that won’t be missed?”
“I’d offer the Major’s, but . . .”
Edward didn’t laugh. He kept himself bent over the parts.
“There may be something in the attic. But, Edward . . . I wanted to tell you I admired what you said tonight. About God.”
He didn’t respond; she couldn’t see his face at all.
“Did it ever occur to you,” she said quietly, “that God is pursuing you, and that’s why He gave you the opportunity to defend Him tonight?”
Edward stood to his full height, only an arm’s length away and nearly as high as the ceiling while standing on the crate. He looked down at Isa with an expression she’d seen before, one that said she was pestering him. “Isa, whatever I said tonight wasn’t because of faith. It was out of hatred. For them. I knew if I was on God’s side, I wouldn’t be on their side. I doubt God used me as a mouthpiece with that in my heart.”
She lifted a brow. “I believe somewhere in the New Testament, St. Paul says he doesn’t care why