Pulling her gloves from her fingertips, Elizabeth left them on her dressing table as she looked at her reflection. Behind her, she could see Laszlo in the mirror as he stood by the bed and removed his dinner jacket, loosening his bowtie. She remained silent for a few moments, thinking of what it was she wanted to say to him. Laszlo undid his top two buttons on his shirt and moved over to his wife as she stood up and he wordlessly began to help her pull her dress from her body, a hand loosening the corset she wore.

Taking the gown from him, she hung it up and left him holding onto the corset, his hands feeling the warmth of it from her body as he looked to the back of her, seeing her curls sway down her back as she reached for a coat hanger and put the gown back into the wardrobe. She had been silent ever since they had left the restaurant and returned home. And Laszlo knew that she was thinking of Charlotte. He had wanted to convince her that she hadn't seen the little girl, but he didn't know if he had succeeded.

"They never found a body," Elizabeth said to Laszlo as she turned her head over her shoulder and looked to him. Laszlo reached for the glass of whiskey that he had left on top of the dresser, dropping her corset to the floor. He held the glass in his hands tightly, knuckles turning white as he downed the liquid in one shot.

He should have known that this would happen.

"Stop it," he said, shaking his head and putting the glass back down. He began to unbutton his shirt with one hand as he moved over to his own wardrobe.

"I am just saying that they never did find her body, Laszlo," Elizabeth said as he shrugged out of the shirt and left it on the handle of the wardrobe. He turned to look to her, dressed only in his socks and trousers as she remained in her chemise. "They never found her."

"And you know why they never found her," Laszlo said to her, his voice stern. He didn't want to do this with her. He didn't want Elizabeth to start chasing shadows because he knew that no good would come from it. He knew that there would be no answer to her question.

"But that's not to say that she couldn't have made it out," Elizabeth continued protesting.

"Elizabeth, darling, please," Laszlo said, his voice a mixture of pleading and exasperation as he shook his head at her. "We can't do this. We can't go through this."

"But what if it was her?" Elizabeth demanded to know from him. "What if I wasn't mistaken and my mind wasn't playing tricks on me?"

"I can't answer that," Laszlo said to her, "because that is exactly what happened, Elizabeth. You are still grieving her. We all are still grieving her. Do I often see blonde hair in the park and wonder if it is her? Of course, I do. I do because I miss her just as you do."

"This is different," Elizabeth said to Laszlo. "This isn't just about seeing familiar hair. This looked like her, Laszlo…the same height…the way she held herself. Why is it so ridiculous to believe?"

"Because our daughter is dead, Elizabeth," Laszlo said, knowing that his tone was harsh and low. He pulled his pyjama shirt onto his body as he watched his wife take hold of her nightgown, clinging tightly onto it to her stomach. "Our little girl is gone and no amount of longing for her will bring her back."

"I know what I saw," Elizabeth said.

"And I have no doubt that you think you saw her, but it is your mind playing tricks on you," Laszlo said. "We are not going to have this discussion, Elizabeth. We cannot move on if you continue chasing ghosts…because it will lead you nowhere. It will lead you only to further pain and I don't want to see you go through anymore pain."

"And if I wasn't wrong?"

"But you were. If you weren't then why would she not have come to us? Why would she be at the restaurant in the first place? None of that makes any sense."

"Maybe she was trying to find us?"

"And how would she know we were there?"

"Because she followed us?"

"Then why did she not come up and see us?" Laszlo continued questioning her. "Elizabeth, you need to see that what you are saying makes no sense. If Charlotte were still alive then she would have come to us instead of running away at the restaurant. She would have been there to see us."

"Maybe she got scared?" Elizabeth suggested and Laszlo ran a hand along his forehead in exhaustion and exasperation. He sunk down to the edge of the bed and buried his head into his hands as Elizabeth watched him, knowing that he wouldn't believe her. She moved to sit down next to him and placed a hand on his back. "I know that it sounds crazy," she promised him as he kept his eyes closed in his hands. "I know that you don't believe me, but I know what I saw, Laszlo. I saw Charlotte. Please…believe me…"

Laszlo peeled his face from his hands and looked to Elizabeth as she watched him. His eyes searched her face as he did his best to comprehend what she was saying. She truly did believe she had seen Charlotte. She was certain of it and Laszlo worried that nothing he said would change her mind.

"You need to stop this," Laszlo said with a shake of his head. "You can't go on like this because it will only end in heartache…or worse."

Elizabeth's brows furrowed. "What do you mean worse?"

"Elizabeth, you know how some mother's cannot get over their grief. They begin hallucinating…convincing themselves that they can see their child…and grief can be a dangerous thing. It can lead to parents losing themselves…letting their minds not become their own."

"Are you saying that I am crazy? You think that I will become crazy?"

"No, I hope not," Laszlo said. "But I don't know what will happen if you keep thinking this and don't let it go."

"Nothing," Elizabeth said. "Because she will come back to us. I saw her…I know that I saw her…and she will come back to us."

"I don't know what more I can say," Laszlo said and stood up, grabbing hold of his pyjama bottoms. "You're not going to let this go and you're not only going to hurt yourself when you realise that Charlotte is gone. You're going to hurt me…Lucy…Emily. You're going to hurt your family."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are," Laszlo said. "And I don't want to see it."

Laszlo began to leave the bedroom and Elizabeth could only stare after him. She knew that he was upset and angry with her. She could see that much. But she knew full well that she hadn't imagined seeing Charlotte. And she wasn't going to let Laszlo convince her otherwise.

…

Sitting in Sara's office, Laszlo was doing his best not to continue drinking the bourbon she kept giving him. She was refilling his glass as he told her of his worries and concerns. It had been a month since the incident at Delmonico's and Elizabeth still refused to give up the notion that she had seen Charlotte. She hadn't told Lucy and Emily, thank goodness, but she was going out into the city and searching for her. She would go to her favourite places, hoping to see her.

Laszlo's plans to take her away for a night had been put on hold. She would talk to him pleasantly and they would make conversation. But that was all they did. She would tell him of how her day had gone and he would tell her of his day. He knew what she was doing. He knew how she went out searching for Charlotte. She had even gone back into her room, tidying it and claiming that she had to prepare it for when she returned home. Laszlo had tried reasoning with her. He had read books on grief, but whenever he told her what he found, she would snap at him, telling him that she didn't need an alienist to tell her how she felt. Psychology was not relevant because her mind was fine.

"I suggested visiting Charlotte's grave," Laszlo informed Sara with a soft sigh, nursing the glass of bourbon in his hand after having his third refill. He watched the liquid swirl around, moving up and down the edge of the glass. "She just looked at me and told me that she did not intend to visit her grave because she knew her daughter was not there."

"She still believes she is out there?"

"I had hoped that the more time that passed she would realise she hadn't seen Charlotte, but on the contrary, she is even more determined than before," Laszlo informed Sara. "Nothing that I say to her will change her mind. I have tried everything…reasoning…pleading…and, much to my own annoyance, I have been angry. But she is pushing me away again."

Sara nodded her head, biting down on the inside of her cheek as she looked down to her own glass. All of the girls had left the office for the night, the sun setting and the night falling upon them. Laszlo had been at work at the Institute and had intended on going home, but he had found himself visiting Sara. It seemed that he tried to avoid going home as much as he could.

"I did not know whether to tell you this or not," Sara began and Laszlo wondered where this was going. "But Elizabeth came to me. She asked me if I could try and help her. She swore me to secrecy…didn't want you to know because you would be angry."

"She would be right," Laszlo grunted. "I worry about her, Sara. She is not herself and if people heard her…if whispers started…she has already been the subject of so much gossip that I could not bear for her to be ridiculed or shunned even more."

"Has she told anyone else of these suspicions?"

"I don't think so," Laszlo said. "Only you, Marcus, Lucius, John and Diana know."

"And we have told no one else," Sara said in a soft whisper, shaking her head slowly as she wondered just what it was Laszlo was feeling. He looked tired. He looked like a man who had been broken down and she remembered him looking exactly that way when Charlotte had been in a coma. "But she needs help, Laszlo. You know that she needs help. Her grief will consume her eventually."

"And what do you suggest I do?" Laszlo asked. "I have tried talking to her, but it doesn't work."

"Perhaps…Laszlo, I do not say this lightly, but perhaps it is not you who she needs to talk to," Sara said. "I know that you are good at your job. I know how you are a great alienist, but you are not that to her. You are her husband. You are too close to her."

"She will not talk to anyone about it. I have suggested she speak with Jane at the Institute, but she refuses," Laszlo said. "What more can I do? I cannot force her to talk to anyone. I cannot make her do that."

"You might not want to make her, Laszlo, but perhaps it is for the best? I do not say this lightly, as I said, but I worry what will happen to her if she continues down this path. She has two children who need her and if she continues running around New York hunting Charlotte's ghost then Emily and Lucy will be the ones who suffer."

"And what do you suggest?"

"Bring Jane home for dinner," Sara said. "Make it so that she has to talk to her."

Laszlo wondered if Sara had a point. "She will be angry."

"But it might help," Sara said. "If not then what way do you see this going, Laszlo? I know of husbands who have had their wives committed to Institutions."

"You do not think that I would ever do that to her, do you?"

"Of course not," Sara said to him with a shake of her head. "But I worry about her. I worry about what she will become."

"And that makes two of us."

…

Elizabeth hardly wanted to go to the opera. She could think of nothing worse than a night listening to music that she didn't understand. But Laszlo had insisted weeks ago that they attend. And so Elizabeth had gone. She had dressed in a dark red dress with sleeves off her shoulders. She had on a silver pendant necklace that Laszlo had bought her and her hair dangled down her shoulders and over her chest. Laszlo had watched her tug on her white gloves as she came down the stairs and he had almost felt his breath hitch in his throat. She still looked like his Elizabeth. She still had the ability to walk into a room, dressed in an exquisite gown, and take his breath away.

He remembered the first time he had taken her to Delmonico's after stating how he wished to court her. He remembered how his stomach had not settled down at all that evening. He hadn't even truly been hungry, instead watching her every movement with intrigue and fascination. Elizabeth had always fascinated him.

"Diana, Lucy and Emily are upstairs. Lucy is reading to Emily, but she is ready for bed too," Elizabeth said as she came to the bottom step. Diana was stood in the doorway to the parlour room, hands behind her back as she nodded, rocking back and forth on her heels.

"I'll go up and keep an eye on them," Diana told her and began to move forwards to the stairs. "Enjoy the opera," she said and then looked to Elizabeth. "And you look lovely, Elizabeth."

"Oh, thank you, Diana," Elizabeth said, a soft smile on her face.

They waited until she had gone upstairs, Laszlo pulling on his coat before picking Elizabeth's up for her. He helped her pull it onto her arms, settling it on her shoulders and allowing it to drape open around her.

"She is right," Laszlo declared to his wife. "You do, indeed, look lovely."

Elizabeth went silent for a moment as she tugged her hair from her collar. Pulling it out, she began to move to the door. "We don't want to be late," she said, completely ignoring his complement. Laszlo watched the back of her as she went and he shook his head. Was this how it really was going to be? He had hoped not, but it seemed that was the case.

She climbed into the carriage without his help and he told Stevie they were ready to go as he got in. Sitting on the bench across from her instead of next to her, Laszlo rested his chin his hand as his arm perched on the windowsill.

They had been travelling for about ten minutes before Elizabeth spoke, her tone haughty. "I know that you have been working late and I don't pretend to not know why," Elizabeth informed her husband. "But the girls have noticed. I had to put them to bed last night and Lucy asked why you worked so late…if you wanted to spend time with her anymore…"

Laszlo's fingers rubbed together before placing his fist into his lap. He held onto his cane with his bad hand and his shoulders moved upwards, tensing as Elizabeth looked at him. "And what did you tell her?"

"What do you think?" Elizabeth retorted.

"Not the truth then."

"Do you think our four-year-old daughter needs to know her father won't come home because he thinks his wife is insane?" Elizabeth sniped. "Of course I didn't tell her that."

"I don't think you're insane."

"No? Because I heard you talking to Diana when you thought I was upstairs," Elizabeth said to him. "I heard how you told her that I was lost in my own grief…how I needed help but wouldn't accept it."

"She was worried about you, Elizabeth. We both are," Laszlo said to her.

"I don't need you to be worried about me, Laszlo. I need you to believe me."

"We're not doing this right now," Laszlo said firmly, wanting to pull at his bowtie and top button as he suddenly felt them begin to suffocate him.

"Fine," Elizabeth said back to him. She didn't particularly want to argue about it either. And so she remained silent, her hands shaking in her lap as she did her best not to look too annoyed.

They arrived at the opera about fifteen minutes before the performance was to begin. Elizabeth forced herself to smile as people greeted them and she took Laszlo's arm, able to force herself to act normal. They moved into the opera house and Laszlo picked up a glass of champagne and handed it to Elizabeth. She took it into her hands and they walked towards his private box. Once Elizabeth was there and away from everyone, Laszlo spotted a colleague in the opposite box.

"Doctor Thomson is here tonight," he said.

"You should go and say hello," Elizabeth said and Laszlo watched her as she looked down at the gallery beneath her, eyes set on anything but Laszlo. He sighed, leaving his champagne glass on the table in his box before leaving and moving through the throngs of people. He walked along the corridor where he had bumped into Elizabeth all of those years ago and her husband had threatened him. He could never walk down the red carpet without remembering that.

"Have you heard about Kreizler's wife?"

Laszlo froze as he heard idle gossip. He stood around the corner, listening in and picking up champagne off of a nearby tray so that he looked as though he had a reason to be loitering. The three women stood in a huddle, talking just outside of his own box.

"What about her?"

"Apparently she's been running around New York looking for her dead adopted daughter," the other woman spoke, a hand going to her neatly pinned hair and moving a strand into it. "She is convinced that her daughter isn't dead."

"Well…I had thought that they called him crazy Kreizler, but it seems he must be rubbing off on his wife."

"You know he took her from her husband, don't you?" the other third woman finally spoke up. "They both had an affair before getting married. It makes you wonder how she is even still able to show her face in society. He's a well-respected doctor but her? She's just a whore."

Laszlo's teeth ground together and his eyes closed as he bit his tongue. He wanted to interject. He wanted to tell them to stop their poisoned gossip. But he stayed where he was. He wanted to know if they said anything else.

"My mother said that when she was younger she was quite the flirt with young bachelors," the first woman said, still fixing her hair as the second picked up a glass of champagne. "I suppose she must have been quite attractive when she was younger."

"Anyway, where did you hear this gossip?" the third questioned.

"Violet Moore," she said. "Her husband told her that their marriage is strained too. Her husband thinks she is crazy. I wonder if he might have her committed? She's clearly a troubled woman…murdered her husband and managed to avoid jail…murdered their own child too, did you know that? Her and Jacob had been expecting but she took poison to abort the child."

"That was never proved."

"Oh, come on," the first woman said with a tone of disdain. "It is so clear that she did it. I wondered if it was because she didn't know if it was Jacob's baby or Kreizler's considering she was spreading her legs for him too."

"Well, she's given him two girls. She couldn't even give him a boy," the second said. "Do you think that he will have her committed? If she truly has lost her mind?"

"It might be worth it," the first shrugged. "She could ruin his reputation even more than she has done."

"Easy Elizabeth, that's what they should call her," the third said and they all laughed. It was then when Laszlo lost his temper.

He stopped hiding in the shadows and stood before the three women whose laughter slowly died down when they realised who they were looking at. Laszlo looked between them and they looked down, clearly embarrassed. At least they felt something.

"How dare you?" Laszlo demanded from them, looking between them. "How dare you stand here and gossip over something you know nothing about?"

"We're only saying what everyone is thinking," the first woman said and Laszlo knew she was the most confident by the way she finally met his eye and looked at him. "It is hardly our fault if your wife belongs in an asylum."

"My wife," Laszlo hissed, "is a better woman than you can imagine and she deserves none of this vile rhetoric about her."

They said nothing back as Laszlo turned on his heel and returned to his box. Elizabeth was still sat there on her own, one leg folded over the other. But Laszlo had no interest in staying at the opera now. He wanted to go. He wanted to go home and protect his wife from stares and whispers.

"Come on," Laszlo said to her and she looked perplexed.

"What? Where?"

"We're going home."

"Are you alright?" Elizabeth asked, seeing that his cheeks were red and his eyes were angry. "What's happened?"

"I just don't feel like staying here," Laszlo said.

"Stop lying to me and tell me what has happened," Elizabeth said, refusing to take his outstretched hand.

Elizabeth felt him bend down, taking her hand himself and hauling her up from her seat. "Laszlo," she exclaimed his name as his arm wrapped around her waist, guiding her forwards. But he didn't get very far. He stood still and looked at the woman blocking their exit.

"Sara," he said, seeing her stood in front of him.

"I'm sorry," Sara said as Laszlo's grip remained firm around his wife. "I didn't want to ruin your evening, but this couldn't wait and Diana told me that you would be here."

"What is it?" Elizabeth questioned.

"I…I don't know how to tell you this," Sara said with a shake of her head. Her own cheeks were red from rushing around and her hair had fallen partly out of its bun.

"It's her, isn't it?" Elizabeth said and Laszlo could hear the hope in her voice as she moved a hand to his chest, looking up at him. "I told you…I knew it…"

"It's not Charlotte," Sara said with a shake of her head and Laszlo saw her face fall as she looked back to Sara and he managed to move his bad arm over his waist to take hold of her, keeping her wrapped up against him as he held her through the disappointing news. "But it relates to her case."

Laszlo's brows furrowed together. "What do you mean?" he asked from Sara.

"There's been a murder…another girl…" Sara stammered and looked between both Elizabeth and Laszlo. "It's the same. It's exactly the same way the other girls were murdered by Beatrice."

Laszlo remained silent as Elizabeth grabbed hold of his bad arm, not squeezing hard for she knew the pain it caused him. But she had to ground herself against him as he did the same, shaking his head and wondering if he was about to jump right back into a nightmare.

...

A/N: Do let me know if you're still interested in this? I would love to know as it helps keep me motivated. I enjoy writing it, but would love your input!