A/N: Warning sexual assault implied. Please skip this chapter if you need to.

"Grab your helmet, George," Henry said, almost with glee. "We just got a call for a murder at the Lakeside Sport's Club."

"Murder? Who was murdered?" He asked, concerned.

"Don't know, but apparently some customer was found dead in the stables with an unconscious whore," Henry replied.

"Has Detective Murdoch been notified?"

"Jackson is going after him now," he replied.

This wasn't going to end well. Poppy was not going to let one of her girls be taken by the police without a fight. George prepared himself for it.

But he hadn't prepared him for the sight that greeted him at the Lakeside Club.

Robert Hamilton lay dead on the stable floor, probably from the large cut on his neck.

Poppy was sitting on the ground nearby covered in blood. Her dress was torn and dirty, her face bloody and bruised, but it was the shattered look in her eyes that broke him.

"Poppy," he knelt beside her and reached out to touch her, but she flinched away.

"Don't!" she whispered. "Please don't touch me."

"Alright," he pulled his hand back. "I won't. What happened?"

She just shook her head and pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and hiding her face in them.

"Detective Murdoch will be here soon, Poppy. You'll have to tell him what happened," he said, softly.

She shook her head again.

She refused to speak to anyone.

"Miss Montgomery," William tried again after having inspected the body. "It's obvious that he attacked you. We only want to help you."

At that, she looked up but her eyes were no longer broken but cold as ice. "Don't lie, Detective, it doesn't become you. Coppers don't help whores. Doesn't matter what I say, I'm going to hang. If you really want to do me a kindness, you'll let me wash that swine of me before you take me in."

William nodded consent. "Dr. Grace, can you accompany her? We will need her clothing as evidence."

"Certainly," Emily agreed, realizing that he had asked her as the only other choice was one of male constables. She reached for Poppy's arm, but she pulled away.

"Please don't."

Emily nodded understandingly, motioned for Poppy to lead the way.

"We'll go through the kitchen," Poppy said, walking towards the back entry of the building. "There'll be less people and less questions."

"Good idea," Emily agreed.

"Poppy!" Amyrilla rushed to her as they came inside, gathering her in a hug.

"Relax. Most of it isn't mine," Poppy replied, but did let Amyrilla hug her. "They're giving me a chance to clean up."

"You mean?"

She nodded.

"But you didn't do it," Amyrilla insisted, then faltered a bit. "Did you?"

"Does it matter?"

Amyrilla pressed her lips together and sighed, "Go on up, I'll bring you some clean things."

"Is that alright?" Poppy asked, turning to Emily.

She nodded again, unsure what to say.

Poppy led Emily up the backstairs to a small washroom. There was barely room for one person to stand between the fixtures. It was clear this was an addition to the house that it had not been made for. She sat on the edge of the tub and reached for her shoes, but quickly straightened up, gasping in pain.

At that Emily crossed the threshold into the small room. "Here, let me," she said, kindly, motioning to Poppy's feet. She knelt and unbuckled them before Poppy could protest.

"Thank you."

Again, Emily just nodded. "I can help with your buttons, if you're okay with that." She motioned to Poppy's back.

She stood and turned her back to the doctor. "How…, how much of my clothing does the Detective need?"

"Probably everything with blood on it," Emily replied, making quick work of the small row of buttons.

"I think it's clear down to my skin," Poppy said, wearily. She stepped out of the dress and laid it over the basin and reached for the ribbons on her corset, doing the same with it when she had it off. She heard Emily gasp when she removed her chemise. She looked up sharply, but when she caught Emily's reflection in the mirror, she didn't see judgement, just compassion. Covering herself with one arm, she grabbed the clothes and thrust them at Emily. "I think that's all. I can handle it from here."

"Of course," Emily replied. But before she could say more, Amyrilla was there, bustling her out of the already crowded room.

"Thank you," Poppy said suddenly, just before the door closed. "For your kindness. I won't forget it."

Emily could only nod again before the door closed, leaving her on the outside.

"Where is Betsy?" Poppy asked, as soon as they were alone. "Is she downstairs with Jamie?"

"I haven't seen her since dinner was served," Rilla answered. "She's probably in her room. Don't worry about her. She knows how to stay out of the way. What happened?"

"I don't remember," Poppy said, shaking her head. "I heard someone shouting in the barn, so I went out to see. It was Bob Hamilton. We argued. He hit me and…, I don't remember what happened after that until Johnathan Lacey came out to saddle his horse."

"Was anyone else out there?"

"I don't remember," she said again after a moment.

Rilla eyed her cousin carefully. "Poppy, don't take the noose for something you didn't do. If you know something, tell George or the detective. Please!"

"I can't tell them what I don't remember," she replied, then softened at her cousin's expression. "If I remember anything at all, I'll tell them. Now, please help me get clean and dressed. I'm don't want to abuse the Detective's good nature."

Once again, Amyrilla sighed, but started running water in the basin.

When she was done, the house was quiet, all the clients gone and the girls sitting in parlor in almost a sacred silence.

William had finished in the barn and was waiting in the foyer when Poppy came down the stairs.

"Can you tell me what happened now, Miss Montgomery?" His voice was firm, but not unkind.

Poppy stole once glance at George. He seemed to be silently pleading for her to speak up, but she look down and shook her head. "I don't remember anything."

"Nothing at all?" William pressed. "Not even how you came to be in the barn with Mr. Hamilton?"

"I heard a noise, that's all I can remember," she replied.

"What kind of noise?" He asked, but she just shook her head.

"I've told you all I know."

"Then I'm afraid, given the evidence, and without your testimony, that I have no choice but to place you under arrest for the murder of Mr. Robert Hamilton," William said.

"Do what you must," she replied.

The officer who approached her with handcuffs was tall with dark hair. She recognized him as one of the men who had come out with George a few weeks early.

Despite his size, he was surprisingly gentle, touching her as little as necessary. "I need put these on you."

She nodded and held her hands out. "I understand."