Edith stumbled behind Henry into the woods on the estate. Her feet ached from running in heels and a light sheen of sweat covered her forehead. She panted heavily for breath and dropped her hands to her knees when Henry suddenly came to a halt. She looked around, only to see they were completely alone. Surrounded by dense trees and the sun setting, Edith noticed she could barely make out the features on Henry's face.

"Henry," she asked uncertainly, "where's Bertie?"

Henry didn't reply, instead he stared at her with an odd look on his handsome face.

"Henry," Edith repeated, now feeling sufficiently spooked.

"I'm awfully sorry about this Edie," Henry said softly. "But I don't really have a choice,"

Then, to Edith's horror, Henry calmly reached into his pocket and produced a black pistol. Edith's heart froze as he pointed it to her chest.

"Henry, what are you doing?" Edith's voice cracked in terror. 'Oh God!' she thought, 'This can't be happening!'

A deranged look in his piercing green eyes, Henry's hand shook violently.

"I'm really sorry Edie. I do feel awfully bad about this. But there's nothing else I can do. You see, I heard you tell Bertie you knew who it was who murdered Mary,"

"What?" Edith stood, frozen by fear.

"You found out it was me," Henry continued. "You found out it was me who stabbed Mary..."

Mary had claimed to have a headache, brought on by the music and her heavy wig. She made her way to her bedroom, swiftly followed by Henry who had a lustful glint in his eye. He lay his hand of the small of her back.

"Did Edith's story scare you?" he whispered flirtatiously.

Mary stepped away from his touch and fiddled with her keys. "No," she said shortly.

"Are you sure? Don't you want me to keep you safe tonight?"

"Certainly not," Mary rebuked, rather relieved to finally have the door open.

"Oh come on Mary," Henry pleaded.

"Not tonight Henry," said Mary sternly, "I just want to rest,"

Henry blocked Mary's way and leered down at her. "Come now Mary, aren't I your husband?"

Mary looked Henry dead in the eye. "Well, maybe I don't want you to be my husband anymore,"

Henry's charming facade dropped, leaving him looking utterly nonplussed.

"What?" he stammered.

Mary's jaw stiffened. "I said that I do not wish to be your wife anymore," she repeated in a firm voice.

Henry's face took on an unflattering look of childish petulance.

"Why?" he demanded. As Mary tried to walk past him, he grabbed a hold of her wrist and shoved his face right into hers. "No! Tell me why," he ordered, spittle flying everywhere.

Conceding Henry deserved an explanation, she said simply, "Henry, I am not happy with you. I am afraid that I do not think that I love you. Nor that I ever did, or at least, not as much as I pretended to,"

Henry's hand dropped to his side in shock.

"I can't believe this," he said, "No matter how hard I tried, whatever I do... I am still not good enough for the High and Mighty Lady Mary!"

Mary went to leave, not wanting to have a confrontation so late at night. Henry grabbed her once more and pressed her against the wall.

"You know?" he spat, "You think yourself so much greater than me! But you're not that much of a catch either! You own a small part in your father's estate, which will all go to your son. You're spiteful and arrogant. All you have is your looks, and believe me they aren't sticking around. They're already beginning to fade!" he roughly spun her round so that she was pushed up against a mirror.

"Look at all those lines round your eyes," he jeered cruelly, "And is that a grey hair I see?"

Mary struggled against his grip. "Let me go!" she demanded.

Henry laughed. "You know? Edith was right. You should have come as a mermaid, seeing as you are such a wet fish!"

"Well then," Mary retorted coldly, "Clearly us getting a divorce is in both our best interests. You wouldn't want to be married to a dead fish,"

Henry spun Mary back round to face him. He glared down at her. "I promised you that I would make breaking up with me as hard and horrible as possible," he reminded her. And with that, he drew his pocket knife and slipped it through her bodice and into her abdomen, before swiftly pulling it back out again. Barely seeming to notice, Mary wrenched herself away from Henry and stormed into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

"You told her she should change what made her unhappy, I heard you" Henry continued calmly, "And then I heard you tell Bertie you knew who it was who did it. So now you see, I have no choice. I can't let you live. I can't let you tell the police and have them take me away from my family,"

It was at this point Edith realised three things. First, that Henry was completely deranged. Secondly, this was not all some terrible nightmare and thirdly, she probably wasn't going to survive this night.

"I will have to get Bertie too after this," Henry added.

"No!" Edith cried. "Please don't hurt Bertie, he has no idea. Neither did I until you told me. You see, I overheard Mama and Papa talk about an argument they had with Mary. That's all. I didn't have a clue it was you until you told me,"

"Really?" asked Henry.

"Really," Edith confirmed, "Please don't hurt Bertie" she begged.

"I won't," Henry promised, "I truly am sorry about this Edie. I genuinely thought that you knew. What an absolutely terrible cock up,"

He pointed his gun at Edith, who was still rooted to the spot. And yet, as she stared down the barrel of the pistol, Edith realised that she had to survive this moment. That she couldn't let herself die. Not yet.

Edith leaped as Henry pulled the trigger. The bullet grazed Edith's side, causing her to fall to the ground in pain with a yelp. Henry stood over her, a leg either side, trapping her.

"If it is any consolation Edie," he said politely, "At least it will be quick. Even quicker than Mary's. I guess she started bleeding out the minute she opened her corset,"

Henry held the pistol to Edith's head. She couldn't move and there was no way he would miss. There was absolutely nothing she could do to escape...

She swung her knee up and kneed him in the balls.

Except that.

Henry dropped his pistol and collapsed to the floor with a grunt, his eyes watering. Edith scrambled to her feet, only to be dragged back by her hair which had become loose in the scuffle. Henry clamped his hand over Edith's mouth and grasped for his gun. Edith struggled desperately but his grip was too strong. She opened her mouth and sunk her teeth into his hand, causing him to yelp in pain and release her. She grabbed the pistol staggered to her feet.

She spun and pointed the gun at him, straight in the head. And yet she could not pull the trigger. She didn't have it in her to kill someone, not even the murderer of her sister. Henry looked back her, calmly awaiting his fate. Edith did not know what he would do when he realised Edith could not bring herself to shoot, but still she couldn't pull the trigger. Her hands shook and sweat poured down her forehead. Edith discovered that even without a gun, Henry had a major advantage over her. He was willing to kill.

But over his shoulder, Edith spied a figure slowly approach. Her eyes snapped back to Henry and saw to her relief that Henry had not followed her gaze. All she had to do now was keep him talking.

"Henry," she pleaded, "Just turn yourself in. They will go easier on you if do. Tell them you were drunk and couldn't help yourself, they might let you off with life,"

Henry shot her a look of complete and utter loathing.

"You want me to hand myself over. A life behind bars is not worth living," he thrust out his arms, "I would rather die,"

As he said this, Henry felt a smart tap on his shoulder. He whipped round to see Bertie Pelham glaring down at him, his lips twisted in a threatening snarl.

"Don't you dare touch my wife," he growled, before knocking Henry off his feet and to the floor with one punch.

Edith peered down at Henry's body. He was completely out of it. Bertie tied Henry's hands and feet together with both his and Henry's own tie, before running over to Edith and gathering her in his arms. His forehead frowned in concern as Edith winced in pain when he brushed where the bullet had grazed her.

"Let's get you to the hospital," he said, running his eyes over her, "We can call the police from there. Are you alright?" he demanded.

"Spiffing," she replied. "How did you find us?"

"Henry's pocket knife fell out if his jacket when he was running. The blade was covered in blood. I just followed your footprints in the mud. I saw you fight him," Bertie kissed her furiously, "You were magnificent," he told her.

Edith smiled back weakly. "You were rather impressive too," she offered, "You knocked his lights out in one hit. I'm rather surprised you pack such a strong punch.

Bertie chuckled.

"Well like you said," he smiled, "you keep forgetting that I was a soldier,"