Wandering through the streets of Whitechapel, she stifled a yawn. The sun was slowly setting over the high terraced buildings and the night was beginning to set in. She had her coat hugged tightly around her body and her hair had slipped from the bun that it had been set in. She moved through the throngs of people, not looking anyone directly in the eye. She didn't want anyone to recognise her. She knew the reputation that came with being the daughter of a policeman. She had been helping her mother at the shelter when they had had another argument. It seemed all that they did in their household was argue.

Whether she was arguing with her father or her mother, she rarely had any peace and quiet. Then again, not that she often saw her father. Ever since the accident he was constantly working. Sometimes he would sleep in his office or come home in the dead of the night when he thought no one was awake. Her mother, on the other hand, was home more often, but she rarely spoke or stayed long. She spent her time at church or at the shelter.

Ever since she had finished school, Elizabeth had been lost. She had no idea what it was that she wanted to do with her life. She enjoyed helping her mother at the shelter and Deborah Goren was always kind to her. But a part of Elizabeth struggled with being around children for so long.

Elizabeth adjusted the hat on the top of her head and walked up the stairs to their terrace home. She dug into her pocket for the front door key, pulling it out and unlocking the door. Stepping in, she closed it behind her and locked it again. Sighing, she tossed her hat onto the sideboard in the hallway before removing her coat. She hung it up on the coat rack before heading upstairs and towards her room.

She paused again at her sister's room. Her hand hovered over the handle for a moment and she almost wanted to go inside. Mathilda had been missing for so long that Elizabeth had lost hope of seeing her younger sister again. Her father maintained that Mathilda was still alive. He would not let her go. Her mother wanted to cling onto the idea, but Elizabeth knew that she was not overly convinced. She went to church to grieve. She went to talk with the vicar to seek solace. She would not find it from her own husband, that much was for sure.

"You look lost in thought."

Elizabeth almost startled. Her eyes widened and she tossed her head to the side, her long curly hair flying behind her as she saw her father stood at the end of the hallway. His eyes set on her and he saw the door she was stood outside of. She nodded her head at him.

"I was," she responded earnestly. "Why are you home?"

Edmund's lips almost lifted up at hearing her. "Is a man not permitted to be in his own home?" he asked her in a teasing tone.

"Of course," she responded. "But usually you prefer the company of crooks and criminals than your own wife and daughter."

Elizabeth turned on her heel and began walking down and towards her own room. She knew that her father would not be happy with what she had said. She often struggled to hold her tongue. It was a fault of hers. It was a fault that her father had warned her would see her not marry a respectable man. But why should she care about marrying a man? It was a man who had ruined everything.

"Elizabeth," Edmund called after his daughter, following her into her bedroom.

She sighed at the sight of him, sitting on the edge of her bed and folding one leg over the other, her long blue skirts falling into a cascade around her legs. She arched a brow and Edmund almost struggled under her stare. She had an intense look about her. She almost looked like her mother when she was quizzing him. He tugged at his tie, suddenly feeling warm as he thought of something to say to her. She waited patiently, arms folded over her crossed legs.

"I am your father, Elizabeth," he finally settled on saying to her and she resisted the urge to scoff at that comment. "You should treat me with more respect than that."

"I apologise," Elizabeth responded, but her apology sounded anything but sincere.

Edmund sighed and unbuttoned his suit jacket, stuffing his hand into his trouser pocket. "Apology accepted," he said. "I have to ask what you are doing home so early? I had thought that you would be at the shelter with your mother?"

Elizabeth shifted uncomfortably, her pale cheeks turning red. She reached for the ends of her hair and twirled some of it around her finger. She shrugged her shoulders and glanced down to the floor. Edmund did not need to ask what had happened. He had spent some evenings listening to Emily and Elizabeth bicker. He knew that they were more alike than they cared to admit, hence why they clashed often.

"I take it you had another argument?"

"Do you know that she can look every single child at that shelter in the eye, but as soon as I ask her a question she struggles to even look at me…she glances over me…speaks to me…but cannot even look at me," Elizabeth said to her father, looking him in the eye.

He knew why Emily was that way. Whenever she looked at Elizabeth she saw Mathilda. It was too much pain for her to handle. But it was unfair on Elizabeth. He knew that it was. She was their daughter as much as Mathilda was. She needed them and they had pulled away from her. They had left her on her own and to suffer. Edmund hated what they had done to her. He detested it. His daughter had been jovial and mischievous. She had always been smiling. She had always managed to charm her way out of trouble. Edmund had never been able to stay mad at her for long, but yet she now hardly spent time with him. Not that he spent time with her, either.

"You know why your mother is the way that she is," was the only thing that Edmund could think to say to her. She scoffed at hearing that and nodded her head. "She struggles with the guilt that she feels-"

"-She blames me," Elizabeth interrupted.

Edmund moved then, closing the gap between them. He sat down on the edge of her bed next to her and dared to move his hand to hers.

"Do not say that," he urged from her, voice taut as he squeezed her fingers inside of his.

"Why not?" Elizabeth demanded from him, looking him in the eye and searching his face. She tried to find anything that would betray his usual calm exterior, but his lips were taut. "Perhaps that is what we need to do, is it not? Maybe we just need to say how we truly feel and then this nightmare might be over eventually?"

"Elizabeth-"

"-You know I am speaking the truth," she interrupted, moving to her feet and snatching her hand from his. She looked down to him. "If I had stayed here…if I had not been so determined to sneak out with Edward then Mathilda would still be here. I should have stayed and looked after her. Instead I was selfish and snuck off with some boy."

"No one blames you, Elizabeth," Edmund said. "No one lays any of this on your shoulders."

"Then why does mother not even wish to acknowledge my existence at the best of times?" she demanded from him. "Why do you also struggle to look at me? Why do you not spend any time with us?"

"You know why," he responded. "Work is busy, Elizabeth. I cannot rest while there are criminals on the streets, not truly."

"But they do not need you as much as we do," Elizabeth retorted. "Mother is falling apart and we both know it. We both know that this family is falling apart but no one wants to do anything to stop it from happening."

"I do."

"Then prove it," Elizabeth demanded from him, flapping her arms by her side. "You cannot just say pretty words and not act on them."

Edmund remained silent, still perched on the edge of her bed and watching her as her cheeks grew to become an even deeper shade of red and she sniffed loudly, trying to stop herself from crying. She didn't want to cry. She had shed so many tears by herself in an evening that she didn't want to shed anymore.

"I miss her," Elizabeth said, her voice breaking eventually. "I miss her every day."

"We all do," Edmund said to her.

"But this is not fair, father," she said to him. "None of this is fair…living like this…it is horrible."

"Things will change, Elizabeth. I swear it," he said to her.

Elizabeth looked him in the eye and nodded once. She did not believe him. She had heard him say this far too many times before for it to come true. Nodding once, she looked him in the eye for a moment before speaking: "I will believe it when I see it," she said and turned on her heel, needing to escape for fresh air.

…

Elizabeth had listened to her father call after her, demanding for her to come back as she grabbed her coat and shrugged it onto her shoulders. She didn't listen. Instead she made her way back along the street and toward the quiet path by the side of the river. She walked the route nearly every day when she did not wish to be left alone with her thoughts. She used to take Mathilda on the walk too. It was a path lined with trees and the grass was always luscious. Sometimes Elizabeth would buy Mathilda an ice cream and they would sit on a bench and watch the steam ships go up and down, talking about where they would want to go on their own adventures.

She walked quickly along the path, her footsteps heavy and her face one of clear anger and determination. She almost jumped and screamed when she felt a hand tap her on the shoulder. Turning around, she looked up and gathered her breath, the calming stare of Bennet looking down to her. She placed a hand to her chest.

"Sergeant Drake you terrified me," Elizabeth admitted to him.

"I apologise," he responded to her. "Miss Elizabeth, what are you doing out here? It is nearly dark."

"I needed some air," Elizabeth said to him. "I would not worry about me, Sergeant, I will be fine."

"Ah, ah, ah," he said, grabbing her around the waist before she could begin to walk off from him alone. He had no intention of letting her go, especially when he knew that Edmund would kill him if he did. "Not by yourself, Miss Elizabeth."

She huffed at that. "I promise that I will be fine. I walk along this route nearly every day and it is perfectly safe."

"That it may be, but I have no intention of taking that chance."

"And nothing I say will change your mind?"

"Afraid not," he said to her. "Now come along, I will walk with you and ensure you get home safe…and perhaps you can tell me why you are out here so late."

She walked by his side as he pressed his hands into his pockets and Elizabeth folded her fingers together and laced them in front of her. "I will give you two guesses as to why I am out here."

"Now that could be difficult, Miss Elizabeth," he responded. "I suspect it is either an argument that you have had with your father or an argument that you have had with your mother. I would not like to guess which one."

Drake knew all about what had happened, not that they spoke about it. Edmund preferred to keep his emotions closed and to himself. Drake never pushed him on that. He never wanted him to feel that he had to talk, but Drake wanted him to know that he would be there if he wanted to. The choice was his. Elizabeth, on the other hand, was a talker. She had always struggled to keep her emotions guarded, even as a child.

"Both, I think," Elizabeth said to him, avoiding a mother with her pram coming in their opposite direction. "Well, if my father was not annoyed with me earlier, he will be now that I have stormed off."

"Ah," Drake said. "He will be worried about you, Elizabeth."

"Well, I suspect he is actually at home to worry which makes a nice change," Elizabeth responded.

Drake knew that Reid slept at work most evenings. If he did not sleep there then he stayed late. He spent more time there than he did at home. That much was apparent.

"Your father loves you, Elizabeth," Drake said to her. "So does your mother."

"They both have funny ways of showing it," Elizabeth responded. She bit down on her bottom lip and did her best to comprehend what was going on in her own mind. She could feel a headache coming on after everything that had gone on. "Father barely spends anytime with me. Mother barely looks at me. I know that they both resent me."

"They do not."

"But they do," Elizabeth responded, rubbing her hands against her skirts. "It would just be easier if they admitted it."

"You were a fourteen-year-old girl, Elizabeth," Drake said to her. "You were not responsible for looking after your sister. You were simply a girl."

"A girl who put her own selfish wants before her sister."

"You were not to know what would have happened on that boat," he said to her. "You could never have known."

"But I wish that I did," Elizabeth said to him. "I wish that I had because then she would still be here and things would be as they were…we would be happy."

"I know, but we cannot alter the past."

"A pity for it."

They lapsed into silence then for a few moments before Drake struck up trivial conversation, sensing that it would be best not to rehash what had been happening in her life. He walked her back home. The door opened wide and Edmund stood there with Emily peering over his shoulder.

"Elizabeth Reid, you do not storm out like that again, am I understood?"

"Perfectly," Elizabeth said, tone one of sarcasm before she glanced to Bennet. "Thank you, Sergeant."

"Miss Elizabeth," he tipped his hat as she walked in past her mother and father. Emily took off after her, calling for her to stop as they moved into the depths of the house. Edmund stayed on the doorstep and peered down to Bennet. He did not enjoy having his family dramas aired. He would have preferred to keep them private. That was the way things should be. They should be dealt with privately.

"Thank you for escorting her home," Edmund said to Bennet. "She…well…"

"Yes, I know," Bennet said to his unspoken comments. He did not have anything else to say, nor did he want to discuss it. "I will see you tomorrow."

"Indeed," Edmund said and closed the door behind him, preparing to face the wrath of both his daughter and his wife.

….

A/N: Do let me know what you think!