The next morning bloomed bright and crisp the first touch of frost on the ground, covered the grass like a dusting of icing sugar. Whilst most of the staff were still at breakfast Flora Ryan made her way over to the chapel. She had left Walter tucking heartily into his bacon and eggs determined to get her weekly inspection of the Chapel flowers out of the way so that she could spend the saved time putting the finishing touches to the baby blanket. At this thought she smiled slyly, she hadn't told Walter but as she woke up that morning and the perfect name had come to her, it would be amusing over the coming months listening to him trying to guess what the initial stood for.

As she walked towards the chapel she noticed that the hedge gate had been left open, shaking her head she marched over shutting it firmly behind her, making a mental note to scold Johnny whose task it was to make sure all gates were secure otherwise any Tom, Dick or Harry could swan about the estate as they chose or more importantly for the household's chicken supply so could any passing fox. On reaching the chapel she pushed the door open wide and strode purposely towards the alter. Immersed in her own thoughts she didn't see the dishevelled character fast asleep on one of the front pews.

Standing before the beautifully ornate carvings of the Sturges Bourne private chapel Flora thought sadly what a shame it was that her and Walter couldn't be married in these surroundings. However she shook her head at such fanciful notions, it would be unheard of servants being allowed to use a private family chapel, no the village church was good enough for them after all they had being living in sin for months now, the consequences of which on their souls made her shudder. Silently she clasped her hands and prayed hard, please let us not have to pay for it soon can't we have a few years of happiness first.

Suddenly her silent reverie was shattered as a loud clatter behind her caused her to whirl round, her heart in her throat. At first she could not see what or who had caused the loud noise, then suddenly a hand reached up and grasped the back of a pew, followed quickly by another one and then the top of someone's head appeared. In the semi-darkness Flora couldn't make out the face but she heard them groan and utter a sting of foul curses before they heaved themselves off the floor completely. Assuming it was one of the lay workers who had gotten themselves worse the wear for drink and decided to save themselves the long trek home by kipping the night in the chapel, she stalked purposely over to them intent on a serious reprimand.

However she stopped dead in her tracks when the mysterious figure staggered out of the pew and into the aisle blocking her path, Flora gasped as the light from the great stained window illuminated the face of the drunkard for the first time. In shock she backed away her hands held out in front of her, "You!" She gasped looking frantically round her for a way to escape, but her only route was out the main door directly passed the persistent drunk from the pub.

Blurry-eyed William Forest Senior, blinked and tried to clear his double vision, finally he rubbed his face with his sleeve, his hand still tightly wrapped around the gin bottle. Opening his eyes wide he saw a shadowy figure standing at the other end of the church, squinting against the sunlight he assumed it was Will and began to stagger over to him. Then once he was out of the light he realised that it wasn't Will but a well dressed lady, then he recognised her remembering her as the lady he tried to talk to outside the Cock and Bull. He continued to walk towards her and Flora backed kept backing away, however soon she had backed up against the pulpit and could go no further.

She looked around desperate for something to throw, something that would distract him long enough for her to escape and raise the alarm, then her gaze fell on the alter candlesticks. Dashing forward Flora heaved one of the heavy silver candlesticks off the table and turned to face the drunk brandishing it before her like a club a determined look on her face. This caused Bill to pause, the last thing he needed was to get into a fight but there was no way he was leaving Taplows without first wishing his son a happy birthday and no bloody woman was going to come between them again.

"Put it down lass and no one need get hurt!" He growled, "I'm just here on a bit of business and then I'll be on my own merry way, there's no need to make a fuss!"

For a moment Flora considered his words and went to lower the candlestick, but at that moment an impatient Bill went to grab it from her and so she threw it at him with all her strength. It was a good shot although it lacked the power to do any damage but she had succeeded in knocking him off balance, and so Flora made her dash for the doors. However she was only halfway down the aisle when a strong arm grasped her elbow and dragged her back, struggling she lashed out with her elbows and feet determined to free herself from his clutches. Frightened and panicking Flora started to cry out, yelling so loudly for someone to come to her aid that Bill was certain they'd be heard. He managed to anchor one arm round her waist and used his free hand to try and gag her, but Flora was now acting on pure instinct and she bit the soft flesh of his palm hard drawing blood, then sensing weakness she elbowed Bill in the stomach winding him.

Enraged that a woman would have the nerve to act thus Bill lost his temper and releasing Flora he backhanded her hard across the face sending her reeling before grasping her hair and dragging her roughly back down the aisle intent on locking her in the vestry out of sight and trouble. However he found this increasingly difficult as Flora seized hold of the end of a pew and refused to let go, clinging to it as though her life depended on it, which she believed it did. A few moments struggle Bill prised Flora's hands loose and span her round wildly causing her to slam hard into the opposite pew.

For a moment Flora stood almost frozen, bent double over the pew her hand flying immediately to her stomach before her legs gave way and she collapsed on the floor, her head hitting the flagstones with a nasty crack. Bill stood over her a look of shock and pure terror on his face, this wasn't the first time he had stood over a seriously injured woman and the last time he had ended up serving ten years in jail for manslaughter. He had to get out of here before he was spotted and caught, he dashed over to his pew and grabbed his tatty rag bag pausing only briefly to gaze in pity at the woman on the floor, she seemed to be slipping in and out of consciousness but before he could turn and leave her eyes focused and locked on his for a moment and she mouthed a single word, "Help!"

Backing towards the doors unable to tear away his gaze he turned and ran as though the devil himself was hot upon his heels. Flora lay on the floor her vision blurring, one hand lay protectively over her stomach but the pain was excruciating it felt like she had been stabbed repeatedly and she realised as she drifted into unconsciousness that she was losing her baby.

A few moments later another Mr Forest was making his way to the chapel, trying to hide his obvious excitement and make his sudden interest in the building look natural and not as highly suspicious as it so obviously would be; the last thing he needed was to get Mr Adams suspicious. Will dreaded to think of the Scottish barbarian's reaction if he actually caught Will and Lizzie together and doing what Will hoped they would be doing, there was no doubt in Will's mind that if they were caught he would be pushing up daisies till judgment day. Slowly he edged around the garden wall heading for the hedge gate, which when he reached was open, giggling to himself that Johnny would be in the dog house later he slipped through the gate closing it quietly behind him. Turning around to face the Chapel Will stopped dead, the front door was wide open and the autumn leaves were slowly being blown inside, what the hell is Lizzie up to? He wondered. Does she want us to get caught, leaving the gate open is bad enough but the chapel doors as well?

Slowly Will walked towards the open doors, a feeling of uneasiness descending, something was very wrong here. When he reached them he gazed into the gloom, at first he could only see a few feet in front of him but then his eyes adjusted and he saw the devastation. Walking further in he noticed something twinkling in the sunlight, bending down he went to pick it up, then quickly withdrew his hand when it drew blood

Sucking on his injured finger, he wondered what the hell was broken glass doing lying all over the chapel floor and why were the pews out of alignment, then looked over at the alter and noticed one of the huge silver candlesticks were missing, we've been burgled he immediately thought and stood up quickly intending to return immediately and raise the alarm but then he spotted something out of the corner of his eye.

Whirling round he ran down the aisle towards the front pews then stopped dead aghast at what he found. For a moment he couldn't move, she was lying there so still and there was so much blood, he knew he should be shouting for help or at least checking to see if she was alive or dead but he just couldn't. The memories long repressed came flooding back, him standing helpless over his mother's body, shaking with fear and shock, silent tears running unnoticed down his face. Stop Stop it the rational part of himself screamed in his mind, we have to do something there's no time for this now. Numb Will reached over and with a trembling hand checked for a pulse, it was there weak but steady, however he knew that that could change quickly. Crouching down he took hold of Mrs Ryan and hauled her into his arms ignoring the blood that smeared onto him and staggered as fast as he could back to the house.

Jarvis smiles, stepping back to admire his handiwork. With a little secret training from the Tappleton carpenter, Harry Biggs (and Sons, although he rarely saw them), and admittedly more than a little help in its construction, the small crib is finally beginning to take shape. It has been no easy task keeping Flora away, to tell a few untruths, because her inquiring mind had meant she had been nosing around his business a little too often for his liking. He had been surprised that his secret meetings with Mr Biggs hadn't been discovered by her, but the staff had done a good job so far in covering for him, especially Johnny who knows just what he is up to hidden away in the woodshed. Jarvis thought that there had been most appropriate because of its obvious wood connection, and that he knows Flora would never find herself there in a month of Sundays. Of course, it would have been easier for him to have gone into town to make it, but he simply doesn't have the time, and her suspicions would have been aroused immediately as to his business there, so for secrecy's sake the woodshed is proving much better.

Mr Biggs had left ten minutes earlier, mornings being the best time to get to work on the crib before the house springs into too much life and Flora notices his absence. Jarvis has stayed a few moments longer, although he knows he probably should have gone back to Flora, as she has been looking a little pale for his liking recently, even though she was still driving him up the wall as usual with her moods and tantrums. He recalls the last incident when she had cried buckets over a small tear in her favourite handkerchief, and although his promises to buy her a new one were most sincere she had turned and yelled at him for 'not understanding' before apologising and letting him have the now very rare treat of afternoon tea. At least not everything is changing then, he muses, chuckling and giving the crib a little nudge to make it swing gently.
But just as he is about to turn to leave, he hears a furious knocking on the woodshed door. Before he can call out to check it isn't Flora, Johnny swings the door open wide and stands in the doorway, gasping for breath and waving his hands in front of him wildly. Jarvis turns and gulps hard, staring at the lad, but it is as if he doesn't need him to say it. His heart begins to beat manically in his chest as he tries to get some words out, but instead his eyes plead with Johnny for it not to be true.

Johnny wiping his face with grubby hands: Mr Jarvis, come quick! It's Mrs Ryan, she's hurt, the baby, I don't know, Mr Jarvis!

Without a word the butler pushes past him, the crib suddenly far from his mind. His brain is running far too slowly for him to gather any sort of coherent thought, all he can think about is Flora and getting to her, but he can think ahead just enough to turn to Johnny who is struggling to keep up with him.

Jarvis his voice shaking but still authoritative: Has anyone gone for the doctor!

Johnny panting: Yes, Fred has ridden off into town, sir! Sir, nobody really knows what happened to her, Will Forest found her lying in the chapel………

Jarvis only just about being able to hear Johnny for his heart thumping in his ears: The chapel! Why was she in there so early! I told her to stay in bed, keep warm, drink her tea and not to worry about those damn flowers, but would she listen, no she would not!

Jarvis isn't interested in any response from Johnny, he just needed to say something, anything, he is so angry at her for disobeying him

Jarvis panting as he approaches the house, Johnny still hot on his heels: I told her getting up at the crack of bloody dawn every morning would make her ill, I TOLD her……

Johnny trying to run in front of him to attract his attention, to get him to listen to him: But Mr Jarvis, she was attacked………..!

Jarvis stops dead, grabbing hold of Johnny's arm and jerking the stunned lad towards him

Jarvis shaking Johnny in a mixture of panic, anger and shock: What do you mean, attacked! By whom!

Johnny is almost crying, shaking his head emphatically as he sniffs and bites his bottom lip

Johnny: I…we don't know who it was, sir, but there was lots of blood everywhere, and a candlestick, and broken glass, Mr Jarvis!

Jarvis, his chest tightening as his face flushes, roughly releases Johnny from his grip and without a word turns on his heels and marches even faster towards the house, where once inside the full extent that the chaos of the attack has caused is obvious. On entering the servants quarters, he can only stand for a moment, his legs numb and his stomach cramping into a painful knot. Maids are dashing around, some shouting, others wiping tears from their cheeks, paying no attention to him, until Grace appears, a bundle of blankets and towels in her grasp. She hurries up to him, tugging on his arm to follow her, a look of worry and sadness on her round face

Grace looking frustrated as he continues to stand, staring at her: Mr Jarvis, please! Mrs Ryan needs you, please come with me!

Jarvis suddenly feels he cannot cope with what he may be about to see, he couldn't bear the feeling of helplessness and fear he knows will hit him as soon as he sees her, but Grace and her persistence finally pays off and he follows her slowly. Later he would recall not being able to remember much about the journey from the dining hall to Flora's bedroom, except for the sense of panic around him, it is as if his brain has shut down completely in his own selfishness to protect his own emotions from spinning out of control in front of all of the staff, and worst of all in front of Flora. The next thing he could remember doing is standing a little away from her bed as Grace and Lizzie make her as comfortable as possible until the doctor arrives. Grace keeps looking up, concerned, at Jarvis, obviously noticing that he is not doing anything but just staring in shock at the housekeeper as if his feet are glued to the floor, until he finally spoke

Jarvis quietly, utter sorrow in his voice: Is she asleep?

Grace, already completely fed up with his lack of authority, is even more incensed by such a stupid, pointless and rather obvious question from her usually canny superior, but also rather worried about him She nods, returning to tend Mrs Ryan and willing the doctor to arrive, but as she turns to dampen a towel in a bowl of warm water she is obstructed by Jarvis standing in her way, his eyes locked on Flora's bruised and pale face. Unable to get past, and her emotions running riot, she can't help it. Just can't help shouting

Grace glaring furiously at the butler: Mr Jarvis, if you are not going to be useful, then I suggest you leave, Mrs Ryan needs my care!

Gasping, Grace clasps her hand over her mouth and waited wide-eyed for Jarvis to reprimand her, but instead he shifts his gaze to Grace, a look of desperation and hopelessness in his eyes, then turns and leaves the room, Grace and Lizzie staring after him. It was a further half an hour before the doctor had arrived. He had been tending a rather difficult amputation when Fred had raced into his surgery, desperate for him to hurry to Taplows. Will has disappeared somewhere outside, although nobody knows or really cares at that moment where, even Lizzie, who by now is beginning to put two and two together about the incident and most definitely coming up with four. When the doctor finally arrives, Jarvis greets him with a cursory nod and shows him to Flora's room, completely silent, then manages to build up the energy to tell Grace to go in after him to stay with her

Lizzie meanwhile has fetched a chair for Jarvis so he can sit outside the room rather than having him pacing up and down, or even worse collapsing on the spot. After Grace and the doctor had gone into the bedroom all he can do is stand and stare at the closed door, until Lizzie, not knowing at all what is going through his mind (if indeed anything was), leads him gently over to the chair and sits him down, thrusting a glass of water at him and insisting that he drink it all, but instead he puts it down next to him and buries his head in his hands and stays there, the anxious maid looking on. Her worries are momentarily interrupted by Adams appearing next to her and taking her arm calmly moves her away from Jarvis so he can talk to her

Adams quietly: Any news yet?

Lizzie her eyes darting from side to side, an obvious look of emerging panic on her face: N…no, nothing yet.

Adams frowning in what could only be interpreted as fatherly concern: Are you alright, Elizabeth? I know all of this is a shock but you look terrible.

Lizzie suddenly turning defensive, shaking his grip: I'm fine, father, it's not me you should be worried about! She glances over at the closed bedroom door, gulping hard and nibbling her bottom lip.

A further ten minutes later, Jarvis is still staring at the floor and Adams is leaning against the wall. Neither has said a word to the other, Jarvis just not interested in Adams, wishing he would go away, and the footman not knowing what to say to him anyway. Suddenly the bedroom door opens and Jarvis leaps up from his chair – the first time he has been so animated since he came inside the house – as the doctor emerges, looking very grave. Jarvis' breathing quickens as the doctor makes eye contact with him before indicating to him to follow him down the corridor for some privacy.

Doctor his usually jovial, jokey manner absent: I am not in any position to make judgement on you, but I am right in thinking that you were the father, aren't I, Mr Jarvis?

Jarvis by now absolutely desperate for news: Yes, that's right, I am……but you just said 'were'……

Doctor bowing his head before looking back up at Jarvis' anxious expression: I'm sorry, I really am.

Jarvis backs away slightly, his whole body beginning to shake and his stomach cramps returning. He shakes his head as if in denial before covering his face with his hands. Adams meanwhile can just about make out what the doctor is saying, as can Lizzie who has just returned. On hearing the news she lets out a quiet yelp and buries her face in her father's shoulder, obviously in tears.

Doctor Still to Jarvis: The good news is that Mrs Ryan will make a full recovery, she is just very bruised and battered, but obviously I cannot tell at this stage whether she will be able to conceive again. I am so sorry for your loss. She is sleeping, and I have prescribed something for the pain, but you can go in and see her now. Just make sure she has lots of rest. And I hope the police catch who did this to her.

Jarvis, although has heard the doctor's words, is unable to respond to him very coherently, so Adams steps in, thanking the doctor for his swift attention to Mrs Ryan and offering to show him out. The doctor pats Jarvis sympathetically on the arm, muttering something about returning in a day or two to check on the housekeeper's progress, before exiting with Adams. Jarvis glances at Lizzie, then without a word slowly opens the bedroom door to see Grace holding Flora's hand and feeling her forehead.

Jarvis his voice wracked with emotion: It's fine Grace, I will stay with her a while now. You go about your duties, Mrs Ryan won't want the place to fall apart now, will she?

Grace nodding and moving towards the door: Yes, Mr Jarvis. I will come back a little later with a bit of lunch for you, and Mrs Ryan if she can manage it.

Jarvis tries to smile appreciatively, but instead he looks almost in tears as she hurries past him out of the door, a bundle of blood-stained towels in a basket. He shuts the door after her, then turns slowly to look at Flora, the first time they have been alone since early that morning when they had been so happy together in each other's arms. She is sleeping soundly as he steps towards her bedside, reaching out his hand and taking hers before sitting next to her and kissing her palm. She has a large bandage on the side of her head where it had hit the hard floor, and bruising on her cheek, but yet she looks so peaceful, he thinks, and ironically more beautiful than ever. He runs his hand down the side of her face, tears for Flora as well as himself welling up in his eyes. Jarvis leans forward, kissing her gently on her lips and not knowing what on earth to say to her when she finally wakes and has to face the awful truth. Carefully he lays his hand on her stomach, tears finally flowing down his face as he grips her hand, kissing her knuckles until his tears cascade down her fingers and drip onto her linen sheet.

Jarvis whispering: Oh, Flora, I told you not to go to the chapel! Who could have done this awful thing? I love you so much; we will get through this I know we will.

Flora moans slightly, responding to his grip by gently squeezing his hand, then her eyes flicker open and the attack and the pain suddenly hits her when she looks into Walter's eyes

Jarvis stroking her hair: Oh, Flora my darling, you're awake.

Flora trying to sit up in panic: The baby! My baby, what……!

Jarvis shaking his head, fighting back more tears: Flora, it's gone, you miscarried, please Flora, lie back down, you need rest, the doctor said……

Flora her expression contorted in emotional and physical pain: No! Please no!

Jarvis, not knowing what to do, pulls her towards him gently and hugs her tight as she sobs loudly, grabbing his jacket and burying her face in his chest, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably as she repeats 'no!' over and over. Her sorrow is so overwhelming that Jarvis feels his very soul has been pierced, and he cries silently for her while desperately wanting to be strong and to say all those supporting words he should. He wants to take her pain, feel it all himself, to stop her heart from breaking in two. He feels like nothing will ever be the same again, but for now all he can do is to keep holding her until she exhausts herself through grief and needs to sleep again. Felix Kraus suddenly felt very, very far away

Outside the room, Lizzie is stood on her own, listening to the loud sobbing coming from Mrs Ryan's room as the panic and desperation at her own stupidity rises in her stomach. She thinks she is about to vomit when Will hurries towards her, spinning her round, blood still smeared on his uniform

Will wide-eyed, his hair ruffled: How is she? What did the doctor say?

Lizzie: Where have you been! The baby, she's lost it, Mr Jarvis is in with her now, it's awful, Will.

Will's expression turns to one of fury, clenching his fists and for the first time making Lizzie genuinely afraid of him. He turns to her, his eyes bulging and his face reddening in his rage

Will: When I catch whoever did this I'll kill them! I'll smash their brains in! God, it makes me sick, SICK!

Before Lizzie can answer or soothe him with her touch, he turns and storms back down the corridor, almost as if knowing subconsciously Lizzie had something to do with it.

Lizzie her guilt overwhelming her: Will! Will, come back!

Will staggered across the gravel at the rear of the house, almost as distraught as what his superior was, as for Will, the whole experience was the re-living or a very personal tragedy. His eyes fixed down at the ground, in a trance, he flashbacked between discovering the housekeeper lying in a pool of blood less than an hour earlier, and the all too familiar scene of his mother, that met him on emerging from underneath his childhood sitting room table and chairs. All those years ago he'd waited until the room fell silent, and his father had slammed the door behind him, before quickly venturing out, to seek out his mother. She lay motionless on the floor, blood seeping from her head (which was resting on her outstretched arm, where she'd fallen), soaking her beautiful light brown hair, her green eyes wide open, unblinking. That morning however, he had remained almost as motionless as Flora, momentarily having to battle his own demons, before his body would allow him to attend the casualty.

As he took her in his arms, he was determined that this time he wasn't going to be too late, that there was something he could do, and by god he was going to do it. However, getting her to the house was his one and only instinct, after that, he now cursed himself for not knowing what else to have done. He thanked god that Grace was full of her usual common sense, she knew exactly what to do (well, the best she could under the most unexpected circumstances). After hearing the awful news from Lizzie, he was plunged into deep in shock, he didn't want to be a hindrance, so had wandered outside to gather himself. But any positive thoughts he had hoped to muster instantly evaporated when it dawned on him 'why couldn't it have been me!' WHY, couldn't he have been just a few moments earlier, WHY did he have to change his damned shirt, when if he hadn't, all this may never have happened.!

Unable to feel more guilty than if he had been the perpetrator himself, Will suddenly found himself a goal, picking up his pace, charging purposefully back towards the scene of the crime. He told himself that the best and indeed only thing he could do was to search the chapel, snuff out anyone who maybe there, or at least piece together any shred of evidence as to suggest whom the assailant may have been. As he shut the gate behind him, he started to feel very nervous at what he may find next- just who or more accurately what could have done this? What kind of person assaults a defenceless, and indeed pregnant woman? At this one name did spring to mind, but Will was so caught up in what he was doing, he didn't give that eventuality half, let alone a second thought. Which is why, even after what had gone on back then, on approaching the chapel door, he had absolutely no anticipation of what was about to occur.

As he reached out cautiously to grasp the large cast iron handle on the huge dark oak door of the church, he heard twigs crackling and leaves rustling, but on spinning around, saw a few of the earliest autumn leaves being gently blown down the path leading to the back of the church. He let out a sigh of relief, and a little snigger at how the simplest of things had just put him on edge.
However, as he turned the handle, and began to push the door forwards as quietly as he could (in order not to alert anyone in there as to his presence), he heard a sound he could not have mistaken and certain could not ignore. At that moment, his eyes widened, he loosened his grip on the handle, and breathed in excessively as he turned around once more, this time sure that he was not alone.

He crept forward, poking his head around the porch of the church door, looking both ways before advancing out into the open. As he turned right to walk back the way he came, a most definite snapping of a branch in the opposite direction, caused him to freeze and glance at lightening speed over his left shoulder. Someone was there, he was no convinced of that and after only a few seconds of hesitation resolved that he must at least get a look at whoever it was. Taking a deep breath, he progressed in the direction of the movement, initially at a strong pace, telling himself that it would be one of the gardeners, doing some pruning, or, or one of the graveyard lads, preparing another plot for one of the chapel's patrons from the village. But as he was just about to round the back of the church, he slowed right down, considering the other side of the coin.

Just what was he going to do? He wasn't all that big, and though he'd never admit it, wasn't terribly strong either, so even if he did find Mrs Ryan's attack, what was to say that he wouldn't get the same treatment, if not worse? He pondered that unsettling thought momentarily, but then, in the least self act of his life, he charged around the corner. Nothing, not a sausage met him there, just a few rows of rather ancient and highly illegible gravestones. Will felt almost disappointed, as he quickly scanned the scene, quite put out that he hadn't actually found anyone, especially after plucking up the courage for a confrontation. At this thought, he snored, and shaking his head, rubbing his forehead with his right index finger, he looked down at the ground.

However, it was in this position that he noticed some movement, very slight movement out the corner of his eye. His breath caught in his throat, but as he'd come this far, he couldn't turn back now. With this determined thought in mind, he slowly creped towards the larger headstones, which belonged to the household's family, as he was sure someone had just ducked behind one of the larger memorials.

His fears were confirmed, as on further inspection, he spied the side of someones arm, just visible at his angle of approach. Will stopped dead at this, and took a deep breath before carrying on his course. By now the culprit concealed (or so he thought) behind the tombstone was well and truly aware that he was not alone, and his discovery was imminent. The old drunk's eyes began to flicker from side to side, his breathing becoming louder on more constrained as pushed himself back against the stone slab, drawing in his arms and legs closer to his heavily intoxicated body, but it was too late. Will had decided that that moment was as good as any other to announce his presence, as he was at a safe distance, but one close enough to prevent the delinquent's escape.

"Show yourself U coward!" he declared.

At this, the ruffian looked sharply over his right shoulder, expecting the person to whom the voice belonged, to appear. But when they didn't, he chose to remain silent, hoping against hope that whoever it was would be disillusioned , and leave him be. No such luck, as after waiting a moment or two, Will stalked closer to the stone, desperately wanting to peer over it, but reminded himself to keep his distance, and yelled "There's no way out , we've got you surrounded!" Although this was totally fictitious, it seemed to have the desired effect, as he could heard some movement. This wasn't quick enough for Will's liking, so he called out to "Come on lads, we've got him now!"

At this, he saw a hand grasp the top of the gravestone, and a rather gruff voice shout angrily "Alright alright!" At this Will looked down at the ground, preparing himself for what he would do next, as he could here the man groan as he struggled to haul himself up. But on looking up quickly, to face the attacker straight in the eyes, Will gasped, his jaw dropping, his eyes unable to believe what they now beheld.

The pair of them just stood, dumbfounded, before the elder ventured a gravely 'William?"

At the mention of his cursed name, Will's facial expression changed from one of utter astonishment, to one of seething anger. "I might have bloody known!" he snarled through gritted teeth, before lunging at his father, with unrestrained fury.

Not being quite so inebriated as he appeared to be, Bill managed to dodge his sons fist, but this rapid movement put him off balance, sending him crashing into the headstone which was all that separated the two. "Now Will my lad, lets just ca-" he started, holding his hands up to protest once he'd managed to steady himself.

"Don't you DARE call me that. I am not YOUR anything!" Will spat venomously.

"Now come on, that's hardly fair!" the old man scoffed, nodding his head before looking down at the ground.

He did this for just the amount of time it took Will to round the stone, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck, screaming "FAIR? When has anything been bloody fair?" With that last comment, Will ram-raded his father up against the church wall, which happened to be a mere few feet away.

As the wall was far from flat, Bill winced as he jarred his back when it slammed against the cold, hard stone, where Will held him, now by the throat, quite possibly with the intent to strangle the bully with his bare hands. So tight was his grip, that it wasn't until the third time of asking that Will was able to make out what he was saying.

"IS she alright! - What the blood hell do you care!" Will yelled, this false concern wound him up further, causing him to tighten his grip. "You didn't exactly stick around to find that out last time did you? Eh?" At this, the old man attempted to answer the accusation, but all he could do was gulp hard and glare as his son.

"Oh I'm sorry, was that a no! Too damned right! You just bloody left her there didn't you?" Will spat, his brow now so furrowed he could barely see. Unable to bare the stench of regurgitated gin any longer, he released his near-choking father, throwing him to the ground. "DIDN'T YOU!" He gave him a sharp kick for good measure, before turning his back on him, running his hands through his hair, staring up at the sky in despair.

William Forrest Senior wriggled on the floor, coughing uncontrollably, one hand holding at his throat, the other across his throbbing stomach. "Is she alright!" he gasped.

This persistence grated on Will's nerves, but he turned round, grasping one of the headstones to lean on, and snarled "Yeah, this time she'll live, but that doesn't save mum does it!"

Clambering to his feet, clinging to the wall to support himself, Bill retorted, in a stern voice. "Your mother…" at this, Will stared at him daggers, causing him to pause with"

Will couldn't believe what he was now hearing, was he saying that all this had been his wife's fault! This he would not stand for. "You bastard! Don't you DARE speak ill of her! SHE was difficult to life with - SHE was a million times the parent U ever were?"

Bill moved to explain, but Will cut him off "What? Was it, the way her cheek bruised your knuckles on impact! The fact she just couldn't get the bloodstains out of the carpet well enough for you! Or maybe, just MAYBE, were her screams not painful enough? You know, you really should get your ears checked, because they still ring in mine just FINE!"

Bill didn't know quite what to say at this. He was a little enraged that his son should have the gumption to talk to him in such a manner, but there was something, a niggling something that told him that he was right. "I… I'm sorry you had to hear those son"

"Your SORRY? It's a bit bloody late for that now isn't it! Your cock and bull lies didn't fool the judge last time, and you can bet your bottom dollar they're not going to work this time! You know what?" Will said robustly, striding towards his father, "They really are gonna throw away the key this time, that's if they don't hang you first!"

"The …they can't!" Bill stammered, taken aback at those harsh words. "You said she was going to be fine!" he panicked, grabbing Will by his jacket lapels, shaking him vigorously.

Though he couldn't stand his father's touch, he wanted to have an up-close view of his face when he told him "She was pregnant." Will in a deathly tone of voice. At this, he shook his fathers grip, stepping back, straightening his jacket before adding "That goes down as murder in my book, and I'm sure the courts would agree, especially given YOUR background"

"But, it was an accident! She was shouting, I was just trying to keep her quiet!"

"Well you almost silenced her good and proper, but hey, two out of three isn't bad! Accident? The only ACCIDENT when your involved is YOU, you're a waste of space, and I hope you get everything that's coming to you - justice can't be blind twice!"

Bill didn't really catch all that, as he was still reeling at the prospect of going back behind bars, or worse, as his own son seemed to be intent on. "I cant, I cant go back in there - you don't know what its like!" he cried desperately.

"Well that's what comes of never having murdered someone, and it WILL be murder, I'll see to that this time!" Will vowed, as he turned away from his father once more.

"You, you wouldn't turn your own father in, you cant despise me that much!"

"No, no Im not." he said with a sigh, shaking his head before turning round. "I wont need to, because your going to do that yourself, I don't want ANYONE around here knowing that I have anything to do with you, because as far as Im concerned, I don't HAVE a father!"

At this absurdity, Bill had heard enough, after that he wasn't going to bow and scrape to his offspring any longer. "You really are soft in the head aren't you? You don't seriously expect me to-"
Will was disinterested in whatever the man had to say, HE was laying down the law now. "I'll give you half a hour, to drag your sorry carcass down to the village and turn yourself in"

"No bloody way-" Bill protested, with a little chuckle

"Coz if U don't (Will raised his tone), they'll be no need for the hangman and his noose… " looking his father menacingly in the eye "coz I'll do the honours personally!"

"You couldn't!" his father scoffed

" Ohhh, It'd be my pleasure, DAD!" Will ensured him, in a tone of deep satisfaction.

On seeing the look of hatred in his son's eyes, this was no longer a laughing matter for Bill, who looked down at the ground, a condemned man in all lights, just where could he run to in the allotted time? As this dawned on the old man, Will emerged behind him, whispering maliciously in his ear "I want the police back here within half an hour, and if they do not, I'll find you, and drag you down there myself, dead or alive, do you hear me!" Realising all was really lost, he nodded, which received only a "good" from Will before he stalked off back to the house.

However, a moment later he remerged, brandishing some rope "Actually, its not as if I can trust you to do that! Trust you - ha! I think I'll do that now, no time like the present is there!" he mused before he socked his father hard in the stomach, causing him to fall to the floor. At this, he bound his fathers hands, and hauled him up roughly, before leading him off down the overgrown path towards Tappleton.

A few hours later and Jarvis sat on the edge of the bed an emotionally exhausted Flora fast asleep in his arms, bending down slightly he kissed the top of her head and tightened his grip, pulling her even closer. He knew that he ought to be the strong one, that he should be the one making things easier for her, especially after the added ordeal of how she lost the baby, this hadn't been a simple miscarriage in his eyes it was murder, plain and simple. For a moment his eyes burned, if he ever caught the one responsible he wouldn't wait for the long encompassing arm of the law, no he would find an appropriate way to pay them back, them and anyone involved. After all how could someone have gotten into such a well protected place without being spotted by anyone unless they had help? Jarvis gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, when he found out who that little low life was they'd wish they'd never been born!

Slowly Flora started to stir, and Jarvis worried that he movements might have disturbed her, lifted a hand and ran it soothingly over her hair, whispering in her ear to go back to sleep. Dozily Flora turned over, wincing slightly at the pain before snuggling up on his chest, her fingers latching onto the buttons of his waistcoat like a child to their security blanket. Then she muttered something into his chest so quietly he barely caught it, "I'm so sorry Walter!" she mumbled.

Grasping her chin firmly Jarvis forced her to look at him, her eyes were brimming with fresh tears and Jarvis found it difficult to stop more from springing to his, instead he focused on his anger towards the culprit and that helped to keep him focused. "It is not your fault, do you hear me? There was nothing different that you could have done, it's all the fault of the bastard who did this to you!"

For a moment they were silent, Jarvis rubbing Flora's back soothingly as she cried into his waistcoat, then when she had once more exhausted herself and was becoming sleepy Jarvis could not wait any longer. "Flora I need to know what happened, I keep imagining it in my head and every time it gets worse and worse, I have to know were you assaulted in any other way…..?" Jarvis paused unable to continue, the thought of that on top of everything else she had gone through made him sick to his stomach.

Flora paused before answering, is that what is really bothering him? "I suppose you mean, did he rape me? No Walter he didn't, he just beat the living daylights out of me and killed my baby!" Then when Jarvis didn't answer, she added her voice taking on a bitter and sarcastic tone, "Is that what you're really worried about? That I might be damaged goods, contaminated?"

Jarvis just sat there stunned, he had never seen Flora like this her eyes were wild and she was furious. "Well, is it? I suppose deep down your relieved, after all there is no need to marry me now, so you might as well take this back…" She stopped mid sentence and grasped at his ring, pulling off of her finger and went to hand it back, but Jarvis had finally snapped out of his stupor and realised she was just distraught and angry hitting out at him because he was the closest.

Taking the proffered ring he grasped her left hand and forced it back onto her finger, "Never ever take that off again!" He growled softly in her ear, before gently encircling her with his arms and pulling her back against him.

"I'm sorry. I just……." Flora began. "I feel so helpless Walter, there is nothing I can do!"

After a few moments Jarvis spoke, his voice low but firm. "Yes there is Flora! You can help me catch who did this to us, I need to know what they looked like anything that might give us a clue."

Dozy once more Flora had to think hard, the blow to her head was not making things any easier and she remembered things in bits and pieces then suddenly she blurted out, "I'd seen him before, at the pub, he was one of the drunks outside, the one who wouldn't stop following me! But despite that he looked so familiar….." She trailed off a look of concentration on her face.

"What do you mean?" Jarvis insisted.

"Well when I first saw him at the pub I thought the same, in fact at first I even thought it was him and that he's skived the day off work to go the pub, but on second glance I realised it couldn't be and just brushed it off to coincidence……"

"WHO?" Jarvis bellowed, his anger rising once more. "Who did that vagabond look like?"

Flora hesitated for a moment she had hardly ever seen Walter angry but even she had never seen him this mad before,

"Will…. They have the same eyes." At that last statement Flora shuddered, obviously reliving the experiences from earlier in her mind.

Normally Jarvis would have noticed, but he was consumed by fury. He stood up, slowly lowering Flora back onto the bed, and turned determined to get the truth out of his under-butler. Flora's hand caught his and for a moment he paused, looking down at her, "Walter please don't do anything you will regret," Flora pleaded, "You know Will, he would never intentionally put me or anyone in any danger…."

But her words fell on deaf ears, Jarvis was not moved by her protestations, he just knew deep down that he was right and that William Forest was the key to this whole mystery and if he was right by the end of the day that boy was going to wish he'd never been born!

Jarvis had been called up to see the Earl, who is complaining about stomach pains and a terrible headache, so he thought the best thing to do was convince him he needed a good sleep and he'd feel right as rain by evening. Once he has left the earl to his own devices in his room, he vows to first and foremost search out the currently illusive Mr Forest and make his life a misery. He storms into the servants quarters, where the lower staff are gathered and are gossiping about who may have attacked Mrs Ryan. Lizzie is quiet but Grace and Charlotte are speculating that it may have been an estate worker, or even a poacher who wandered too close to the house, but they fall silent when they notice Jarvis standing right behind them, having failed to register telling stares from the other maids who saw him approach, his face like thunder

Jarvis booming, causing Grace to jump: Sorry to interrupt this most fascinating interpretation of events, but has anyone seen Mr Forest?

Grace trying to absolve herself: Yes, he's cleaning the silverwear, Mr Jarvis…..

But before Grace can say any more Jarvis orders them to get back to work and marches out again, leaving the maids exchanging worried glances and kneading bread. Jarvis discovers Will furiously polishing a fish slice like his life depended on it until it is gleaming. Jarvis is just about to go in, but George appears, whistling

Jarvis blocking his path and growling: Mr Cosmo, I suggest you stay away, this doesn't concern you. Slams door in George's face just as Adams approaches down the corridor

Adams stopping next to him: What's up, Georgie, not got enough work to do?

George whispering: It's Jarvis, he looks furious, think he's going to shout at…….

Suddenly they both hear Jarvis' voice booming through the closed door. Adams cannot contain his glee when he hears a pathetic voice belonging to Will Forest begging the butler to listen

Cut to room

Jarvis has backed Will into a corner and is standing over him, as the under-butler cowers away from him, his arm shielding his body as if Jarvis is about to lash out at him. And he has every reason to fear such a reprisal. For the first time ever Will is feeling the full wrath of Mr Jarvis and he is genuinely petrified of him. He had seen his fight with Kraus, and how the chef had come off worse; he knows what the butler is capable of, especially where Flora is concerned, but although he feels like he needs some sort of punishment for having such a rogue father, deep down he doesn't relish the thought of his third severe beating in less than a year

Jarvis yelling in Will's face: Did you know he was there! Well, did you!

Will shaking and waving his hands in front of him: No, I swear, I….

Jarvis grabs him by his waistcoat and hauls him up, smacking him hard against the wall. Although Will is taller than Jarvis, Will's knees buckle and he slides a little way down the wall, feeling unable to defend himself, or his father

Jarvis hatred in his eyes: You must think I'm bloody stupid! Thought it was a good idea to hide your father in the church, did you! Bringing damn convicts here and stowing them away, trying to hide their guilt, and then look what happens!

Will his usually cool expression crumpled into one of desperation and guilt: No, I didn't know he was there, I've never wanted anything to do with him! I don't know how he got in!

It is as if Jarvis has no intention of listening to any reasoning from Will, not caring in the slightest if he might be telling the truth but wanting to blame someone, anyone near, and wanting to take out all the upset and despair of the day out on them. In his rage Jarvis roughly takes hold of Will by his lapels and drags him over to the chair he had been sitting in to polish the silver, and forcefully shoves him into it, Will's arms flying out and crashing into cutlery, serving jugs and plates and causing them to clatter noisily onto the floor

Will breathing heavily, his face flushed and his voice shaking: Look, when I found out what had happened to Mrs Ryan I went straight to the chapel and caught him, took him into Tappleton and turned him in, told him he disgusts me and he should never have shown his face around here!

Jarvis as if determined to twist everything so the blame lay firmly with Will: I suppose you knew he was out of prison did you!

Will desperation in his wide eyes: Yes, I knew, I…….

Jarvis leaning in close and shaking him firmly: And did you know he had come back to find you! Eh! Tell me!

Will shaking his head but fed up with the lies: Y….yes, I knew he had been up here before, but I thought he'd gone away for good, sir, I promise!

Jarvis, smacking Will hard back into the chair, staggers backwards slightly, staring at his under-butler in disbelief and fury. He doesn't speak for a moment or two, as Will slumps further back into the chair, his nice uniform all crumpled. He hadn't thought Jarvis could become any more enraged, but when Jarvis points at him, gritting his teeth and lowering his voice to such a level that seemed to Will more scary than shouting, he knows this is the calm before the second storm

Jarvis pacing before stopping to stare at Will: So you're telling me – you're telling me that he had been here before and you KNEW? You bloody well knew! And you didn't tell me? You knew him being around was putting all our lives in danger, including Mrs Ryan's, and you did NOTHING!

Will: Yes, I knew, but…….

But before Will can finish his sentence, Jarvis lunges towards him, gripping the arms of the chair and coming up so close to Will that he cringes, shutting his eyes and wanting to be somewhere, anywhere else but here

Jarvis as if unable to control the words tumbling out of his mouth: I always knew what your father did to your mother, and often wondered if you would turn out the same! Like father like son, I'm sure! I bet you planned this with him, wanting some sick, perverted revenge!

Will confused and almost hyperventilating: Revenge, sir, for what? That's ridiculous!

Jarvis grabbing Will by the hair and forcing his head back so it banged harshly on the top of the chair: Is it, Mr Forest? Is it so ridiculous! Oh I've seen the way you look at her, like some lovesick schoolboy! You may very well have some sort of disgusting 'thing' going with Elizabeth McDuff but I know!

Will his eyes widening further as he shakes his head furiously: No, that's not true, it would be improper, not Mrs Ryan, no never!

Will, unsure how convincing he is sounding, gives up speaking and decides it best to ride out Jarvis' wrath. Arguing back over Mrs Ryan could make him look even more guilty, although he is sure that Jarvis doesn't know about the kiss. If he did, he is convinced that in Jarvis' current state he would probably be unable to walk ever again, or worse.

Jarvis Not really hearing Will: Oh I know men like you! If you can't get what you want then you use violence and murder, letting your jealousy get the better of you! Well, I think it's about time someone gave you a taste of your own medicine, Mr Forest!

Jarvis raises his fist, ready to plant it firmly in the side of Will's cheek, but Will speaks just before the first dreaded blow lands

Will raising his arms to protect himself, but his voice stern for the first time: That's right, Mr Jarvis, lower yourself to my father's level!

Jarvis stops, his fist still raised, and glares as Will continues, tears streaming down the under-butler's cheeks

Will: Come on, give me the beating I deserve, remind me of what it was like when I was a child, when he kicked and thumped me until I began wetting the bed, then kicked and thumped me more as punishment! I loved my mother, sir, and he can rot then hang and I won't bat an eyelid. I am so sorry about Mrs Ryan, about your baby.

Will tails off as Jarvis lowers his fist, his face filled with disgust, both for what he was about to do and for calling Will a murderer. He should never have lost his self-control like that. Even still, Will had been very careless and because of this had a hand in his baby's death, and this meant he had to be taught a very good lesson one way or another

Jarvis standing up, looking Will up and down: Right then, Mr Forest, get your snivelling body up and on your feet!

Will obeys, hoping that all will happen is that he will be told he has to take on extra chores as his punishment

Jarvis pausing for a second before speaking: Now strip!

Will his face crumbling: Strip sir?

Jarvis raising his eyebrows: Yes, strip off your uniform, right down to your undergarments, Mr Forest. You are not fit to wear the uniform of under-butler, and I must have been mad to think otherwise!

Will trying to reason: But sir……..

Jarvis stepping close to him: Mr Forest, I should sack you on the spot without character, but I'm feeling in a lenient mood today.

Will resists the urge to say 'could've fooled me' and slowly takes off his jacket

Will not really wanting to hear the answer: Are you demoting me, sir? Back to first footman?

Jarvis smiling slightly, beginning to enjoy Will's discomfort: Oh yes I am most certainly demoting you, Mr Forest, but to first footman? I don't think you will be seeing much of your usual colleagues for some time.

Will shuts his eyes, lowering his head and breathing deeply as Jarvis continues, his voice quiet but still full of distain

Jarvis: First footman would be all too easy for you, Mr Forest, and Mr Finch needs an assistant so you'll do for now.

Will sighing furiously then begging with Jarvis: Mr Finch, sir! You are joking, aren't you!

Jarvis: I've never been more serious. A good spell in the scullery may teach you a few things, including a few new skills like how to skin a rabbit, or whatever it is they do in there.

Will grabbing Jarvis by the arm: But sir! For how long?

Jarvis: As long as it takes, now take your hand off me and continue to strip, Mr Forest, don't try my patience any longer or you won't find yourself in a job at all! Mr Adams will be promoted back to my deputy and Mr Matkin will take up the position of first footman.

Will huffs, scratching his head before roughly taking off his uniform as Jarvis continues to brief him on his new position

Jarvis: You will report to Mr Finch at 6am, and he will instruct you on your duties for the day, and you will have one break in the afternoon. You will more than likely find that you will be working till 10 at night, so make sure you don't socialise too much in the evenings from now on. He pauses then turns to Will again, in an aside Not that any of your former colleagues will want to talk to you much now anyway.

Will, a sour look on his face, throws his uniform onto the chair, and stands uncomfortably in his underwear, awaiting further instruction to his fate. He can't bear the thought of Lizzie seeing him like this, and the idea of Adams smirking in his face is one he can't even begin to contemplate

Jarvis: You will be paid less than a housemaid and I expect to hear only good reports from Mr Finch, and as you may know he is very much the perfectionist and not someone to be trifled with. And I hear he MAKES very good trifle too.

Will isn't in the mood for jokes. He goes to pick up the uniform but Jarvis stops him, shaking his head and tutting

Jarvis: No, no, Mr Forest, leave that there. I want you to go straight to Mr Finch and tell him you will need a scullery uniform, if indeed you can call it that, but make sure you pass right through the servants quarters first, I am going to make an example of you!

Will skirts past the butler, his face contorted into a vicious snarl as he catches Jarvis' eye and exits the room, slamming the door behind him and leaving Jarvis alone to ponder whether he has done the right thing or not. He slowly picks up the silverwear on the floor, checking for scratches, then sits down in the chair, leaning forward and rubbing his face with his hands, letting out a deep sigh

Cut to the corridor. Once outside Will is startled to see Adams and George standing right in front of him. George, open-mouthed after hearing the whole sorry conversation, mumbles something about having to dash off but Will stares at him coldly

Will obviously embarrassed and belittled by his lack of uniform: Oh, so you've both had a good laugh have you! Heard everything I bet! George, I thought you were a mate!

Instead of telling his friend not to worry, and that he supports him all the way, George just glances from Will to a smirking Adams then turns, practically running down the corridor as Will calls out to him 'well, thanks a bunch, I'll remember this!'
He starts to hurry in the other direction, desperate to get out before having to face Mr Finch, but Adams catches him by the arm, pulling him in

Adams quietly, sarcasm and spite in his voice: So I see you literally got a dressing down then, laddie!

Will shaking his grip furiously: Gerroff me!

Adams tightening his grip: Well, I'm glad you got what was coming to you! Messing around with my daughter, then bringing a killer here to Taplows! Well Lizzie certainly won't be interested in you now! My, my, you're a lucky sod, if I'd have been Jarvis I'd have…….

Just then, the door is flung open and Jarvis appears in the doorway. He folds his arms and looks at Adams then Will, tapping his foot impatiently

Jarvis: Mr Forest, why are you still here? And Mr Adams, come with me, I want to speak to you in my office.

He stalks off down the corridor, only glancing back to see Adams muttering something else inaudible to Will, before winking at him and making Will's lip curl in hate. The two men part, William Forest a broken man and Andrew Adams thinking, all of a sudden, that life couldn't get any better

When Jarvis had said report to Mr Finch, to begin duties at 6am, Will had at least been able to console himself with the fact that he now had the remainder of the evening off, with which to try to make sense of and begin to get over what had happened that day. But after the humiliation of traipsing through the servants quarters, less than half dressed, and even less amused, Will was greeted by further bad news on his arrival.

It just so happened, that Mr Finch's deputy, Alfie Butcher, had gone down with suspected food poisoning, and so had been strictly prohibited from any duties involving food preparation, so Will was urgently required to take up his role. Whereas the title of Senior Scullion may have been more appealing to the ex-under butler than your bog-standard scullery worker, this position of (some) authority, came with its extra responsibilities, which Will was to find out.

Alfie wasn't known as Butcher by name, butcher by nature for nothing, as Will had just spent the last half an hour carving up (or rather hacking up, as he didn't have a clue what he was doing) a pig, that hung from one of the metal spikes in the scullery. Whereas the former thoroughly enjoyed this task, after even this short time, Will was convinced he couldn't face a bacon sandwich in the morning, if indeed, he was still entitled to one, under Mr Finch's regime.

Due to a combination of pondering this notion, and trying to keep his breakfast down (as what with all the commotion, he had missed lunch), he failed to notice a familiar face standing in the doorway, unsure what to say, at the sight of Will in such surroundings. Finally, they mused, trying to break the ice "I take it thats the pig's blood, and not Jarvis'", indicating to Will's blood splattered apron.

"Depends which one you'd call a pig, I spose." Will retorted in a dry sarcastic tone. "Why are you here? You shouldn't be, its no place for you"

"Its where you are these days" Lizzie said genuinely, before moving forward, down the step, shutting the door behind her.

"You've heard then?" he added after a moment or two of uneasy silence.

"Well, yes, I didn't know where to find you" Lizzie answered timidly, nodding her head.

"Bet he enjoyed that, didn't he!" Will scoffed, turning away from her, picking up the meat cleaver, slamming it down on the chopping board, as it sliced through the pork, making the maid jump.

"Who enjoyed what?" she asked, clearly confused.

Pausing for a second "Your father, telling you just how much of a worthless trouble maker I am!", before resuming chopping.

"NO! He hasn't said a word to me-"

"Oh, he will!" Will chipped in

"Well if he does, I shan't listen to him - do you think I would!" she cried, running around the table to face him, the table between them.

At this, Will just shrugged his shoulders and rolled his eyes.
Lizzie knew that this childishness was just in response to the situation he now found himself in, so chose to ignore it, informing him "Anyway, it wasn't him, it was Grace who told me"

"Oh nice one George!" Will scoffed, before murmuring something along the lines of "keeping his bloody trap shut"

"Well….. (hesitating) she said Johnny told her."

"Johnny, how the hell … christ, even JOHNNY knows!" Will cursed, throwing the huge knife down onto the table in frustration, with such a force, it slid across the table, stopping inches from Lizzie, who lept back. "Who else knows! Or would it be quicker to list those who don't!"

After taking a large gulp, she continued "I think …, it appears I was one of the last-"

"Fan-bloody-tastic - so they all think I send birthday invites out to murders do they!"

"I'm not going to lie to you Will …" Lizzie began, in a sterner tone, as she walked around the table towards him "They're not best pleased"

"Oh and I'm ecstatic am I! So they think its all my fault as well do they?" he said dejectedly, as he lent on the table with both hands, staring down at it.

"They'll come round in time, and its NOT your fault, I know that." she said assuredly, tilting her head, to catch his eye.

"Not if bloody Jarvis had anything to do with it, he's convinced ….. Dya know, he even accused me of orchestrating the whole thing out of jealousy (tsk!) - the man's lost it!"

"Well, he has just lost his child." Lizzie tried to reason, before her mind flipped back to the jealousy part. "What do you mean out of jealousy?"

Forgetting who he was talking to for a moment, Will just blurted out "You've only got to look at Mrs Ryan sideways and he thinks …." suddenly remembering it was Lizzie.

"He thinks what!" Lizzie half-screamed

"Well you know …" he managed to get out, before trailing off

Lizzie knew exactly what he meant, and didn't like it, so she demanded to know "Well, do you 'look at her sideways'!"

"No!" Will protested. This gained a very sceptical stare from Lizzie, who obviously wasn't buying that, so he decided to come clean (well, not on everything) "Okay, okay, I used to" he admitted.

At this Lizzie gasped, turning away from Will to look out the window. "Really?" she huffed

For a moment, Will didn't know what to say, instead wishing he'd never said a thing. However, despite the difficulty of this conversation, he didn't for one second regret his actions with the housekeeper in the gazebo, but still had no intention of confessing these - as that really would have been stupid.

Lizzie stood at the window fuming, arms folded, breathing heavily through her nose, eyes fixed forwards. She suddenly felt Wills arms around her, grasping her hands. She looked back over her shoulder nervously, panicking at the thought of the blood on his apron smearing the back of her dress, but thankfully, he'd taken it off, while she was in her trance.

At first she struggled a little, furious at him, but he held her tight. "Lets hear it then?" she said in a low tone of voice, but with a strong hint of disdain, leaning back against him, resting her head on his left shoulder, though keeping her eyes away from his.

"I USED TO Liz, when I first came here, everyone did." At this lame excuse Lizzie sniggered, prompting Will to try harder. "But do you know what?" he said sincerely, spinning her round slowly as he did so, "Since you showed up here, I haven't looked at her, or any other woman 'sideways' twice!" he assured her, titling his head to the side, drawing her gaze into his.

They stood still for a few moments, her staring up at him hard, trying to read him, testing him to see if he'd flinch. When he didn't, she was adequately content that he was speaking the truth, nodding her head, and generating a shaky fragile smile to acknowledge this. Will returned the smile, the first of the day (well, first post crisis) , pulling her closer towards him, placing a lingering kiss on her forehead.

At this, they wrapped their arms round one another, her burying her head in his chest, him resting his chin on her head. Will heard a faint 'Happy Birthday', which provoked a giggle, which soon became infectious, the two beginning a tittering laugh at the rather shambolic day, Will sighing "Its all been such a god-awful mess"

For once, Lizzie had nothing positive to say to this, the day had been dreadfully tragic. "Do they all hate me, do they all think its my fault?" Will enquired gloomily.

At this, Lizzie pulled away, leaning back, still in his arms, looking him straight in the eye. "Will, they do not hate you, its just been a terrible shock, theyre looking for someone to blame"

"And they've rested that on me have they, never mind my murderous father, but on the other hand - like father like son, that's what Jarvis said!"

"But they don't know about your father!"

"How could they not, they know everything bloody else!" Will scoffed, releasing her, stalking across the room.

"They know that he IS your fath-"

"HE is NOT my father!"

"Okay, okay, you know what I mean" Lizzie soothed, "What Im trying to say, is from what I gather, they don't know it was your mother whom he …. He …."

Will wasn't really listening to this, his mind went into overdrive, leaving him to irrationally conclude "You know, I think they're right!"

"WHAT!"

"Yeah, yeah they are, they must be!" Will stammered, with an enlightened expression on his face, as though he'd just worked out the meaning or life.

"NO!" Lizzie exclaimed, shaking her head vigorously, her brow furrowed.

"After all, it was ME he was here to see, its MY fault he's here, its MY fault Mrs Ryan is lying in that bed right now, her child taken from her!" Will was now quite taken with this absurd theory, taking no notice of Lizzie's pleas for him to see sense, dropping to the floor, his arms resting on his knees, his head in his hands.

Lizzie knelt on floor in front of him, resting her elbows on his knees, taking his hands in hers, lacing her fingers through his, and resting her forehead on his. After a few moments, Will whispered "I just feel as guilty as he should"

"Well don't, you've no reason too … no reason at all" she sighed, releasing her right hand, placing it on the back of his neck, which she caressed gently. "Its not your fault" she repeated, kissing his left cheek.

"Well whose is it then!" he cried, helplessly, his voice wracked with emotion.

Lizzie took his hung head in her hands, lifting it, only to see tears welling in his eyes too. At this, she decided it was time to do anything within her power to alleviate his conscience, even if the same could not be done for hers. After gulping hard, she took one last look at his face, then she leant forward, kissed him firmly on the mouth and whispered in his ear "If its anyone's, its mine", before slowly rising to her feet.

Will stayed on the floor, leaning back against the wall, dumbfounded as to what she meant. Finally, he lifted his head to look at her, Lizzie now with her back to him, leaning on the table with her right hand, her left hand across her mouth.

"Don't be silly Liz, you played no part in this, christ, you didn't know he was going to be there!"

"Didn't I!" she murmured, before breaking down, sobbing.

"But you didn't, you couldn't have …" Will insisted as he hauled himself up off the floor, pushing himself up the wall.

"I could and I did!" she said determinedly, turning around to face him before declaring "I asked him to come."

"You did wh- Nah, nah, you WOULDN'T have done that, you KNEW how much I despise him!" Will asserted, half laughing hysterically, shaking his head.

"He was your surprise, I asked him to be at the church this morning"

"Surprise? What kind of bloody surprise would that have been eh? I TOLD you I never, EVER wanted to see him again!"

"But, but the other day, when you went to see-"

"Wha, what other day?" Will hollered.

"When you saw him in town, when you sorted a few things out, I know you said it was difficult, but I thought-"

"You thought what! You'd invite him round for tea and cake in the vestry, that we could all have a nice chat - is that what you thought!" Will spat as he paced up and down in front of her, barely able to comprehend what he was hearing.

"No of course not, I just thought that if you were talking then-"

"You really don't get it do you?" Will said in a rather disturbingly calm voice.

"Get what?"

"Get the fact that I never spoke to him 'the other day'!"

"But you said you'd sorted a few things out."

"I know that's what I said, but the fact of the matter is my sweet, I hadn't clapped eyes on that butcher since I saw him sent down, before this morning's ruckus of course."

His deceit finally dawning on her, she began to realise just what she'd done. "S-s-s-o, you didn't have your difficult chat then?"

"No" Will answered firmly but sarcastically, slowly shaking his head, staring at her cold and hard.

"The only reason I asked him to come here was because YOU told me that you two had spoken, and you DIDN'T !" she snarled, her voice gaining pitch as she went along.

Will, suddenly realising that this was indeed true, but not wanting to dumb down the impression he was furious with her, reverted back to his old argument "I TOLD you I was finished with him, you just couldn't let it lie could you!"

However, Lizzie took no notice of this, still waiting for an answer to her question, she walked up to him, tears streaming down her cheeks. He just stood there, frozen to the spot, he hated to see her cry, even though a small vengeful part of him thought she deserved it. His stillness allowed her to step up close and reach to out to hold his left cheek in the palm of her hand, asking "Why Will, why did you do that?", not looking into his eyes, more over his shoulder in a daze.

He looked down at her, and melted a little. "I did it to make you happy alright, I did it for you. I never wanted to see him again, I got down to the village, saw him drunk as a skunk outside the pub, and I just couldn't bring myself to do it" he sighed, brushing a tear off her right cheek.

At this, she looked up at him and nodded slightly, just to acknowledge that she'd heard him before letting out a tearful "I'm SO sorry Will", leaning up to kiss him, putting her arms round his neck.

However, at this, he took her arms from around his neck, pulling away, shaking his head, " I'm sorry Liz, but right now, I just cant believe you'd go behind my back like that, after everything I told you about my past, how could you bring that man here, to our home only to.. To.." He was for words, before suddenly finding them "Id say save your apologies for Mrs Ryan, but Jarvis would probably just think I'd just got you do it, to shift the blame from me, coz that's the kind of guy I am!"

"To them, but not to me!"

"And whose fault is that!" he venomously reminded her. " Just leave it for the time being eh" He huffed, as he stalked back over to the table, picking up the cleaver, and without stopping to put his apron back on, resumed his duty.

Lizzie, realising that he meant what he said, the fact that he'd lied to her in the first place, now went straight over her head, as she was consumed with guilt. Momentarily, she just stood there dumbstruck, her mouth open, bottom lip quivering, before turning on her heels as the cleaver smashed down on the chopping board, and after throwing open the door, she ran through it and back down the corridor without looking back.

Will raised the cleaver, but instead of slicing through the next piece of meat, he hurled it straight forward. As it ricocheted off the stone wall, he was forced to duck quickly, crashing down onto the floor, where he then stayed for a considerable period of time, going over and over in his mind what had just happened, getting increasingly angry with himself each time.