Elizabeth had motioned for the young officer outside the station to come as soon as she had seen the young girl covered in blood. He had moved over to her then and Elizabeth had rushed ahead, dropping Edward's arm from her grip. She held the door to the station open and the young girl was escorted in.

"Jackson!" Elizabeth snapped as soon as she saw him in the room off the entrance hall. He startled, almost dropping the bottle that he had been holding in his grip as he heard Elizabeth's shrill voice. But it was the girl being helped into the station that caught his eye. She was covered in blood, the young officer and Edward helping her to sit down on the bench against the wall. Standing back as Drake made his presence known, she bit down on her tongue while Edward placed a hand to the small of her back. She looked to him and he gave her a reassuring nod. The girl was in the best place now.

"Who is she? What is going on here?" Edmund's voice entered the room and Edward instantly dropped his hand from Elizabeth's back as the detective inspector furrowed his brow and stood beside his daughter.

"Elizabeth?" he questioned, "what are you doing here?"

"We were on a walk and we saw her," Elizabeth said to her father, motioning to the girl on the bench. "She was stood outside the station."

"Lucy," Jackson said, taking to kneel in front of her. His hands clasped hold of her cheeks, but she was looking straight ahead, her expression completely vacant. "Her name is Lucy. Lucy Eames. She was one of Susan's."

"And the blood?"

"Not hers," Jackson said.

"She spoke of murder, sir," Hobbs spoke up.

"At Dog's Neck," Edward added on. The girl had been mumbling as they had escorted her into the building.

"That's where they call the rookery…St George's Cross…it is due for demolition today."

"Cuffs," Edmund spoke to Hobbs.

"Is that necessary?" Elizabeth asked from her father, but his stern glare at her told her not to question him. Instead, she folded her arms over her chest and Edmund told Lucy to sit there and she would be looked after by the men in the station.

"I need to go and see Susan," Jackson said. "I need to see what she knows."

"Agreed," Edmund said to Jackson. "You can go and see her as soon as we go to the site for demolition and find the bodies."

"I'll get my coat," Drake said with a sigh and he gave Elizabeth a soft smirk on his way past.

"Elizabeth, you can go home now," Edmund said to his daughter.

"Do you honestly believe that she is a murderer?" Elizabeth hissed to her father, noting the cuffs on her wrist once more as she looked to her. Edmund followed his daughter's gaze and realised that she was still so innocent. He moved his hand to her arm, holding onto it softly and then squeezing and drawing her attention back up to him.

"Anyone is capable of murder, Elizabeth," he whispered to her. "Even those who we do not suspect."

Elizabeth said nothing back to him and he moved his hand to cup her cheek before he glanced to Edward. "I trust you can escort my daughter from now on?"

"Of course," Edward nodded and Edmund saw Elizabeth about to protest, but his look caused her to close her mouth. She huffed and nodded before Edmund bent down and kissed her on the cheek. Edward offered her his arm and she took hold of it, walking with him outside, but her mind still in that station.

…..

"Do you trust him?"

Elizabeth had snuck back to the station later that afternoon under the guise of bringing her father food. She had snuck into his office and held a newspaper under her arm. Edmund sighed as he saw her look over to the board that held all of his notes and images. She rested the paper on her father's desk and he leaned back, hands clasped onto his stomach.

"Stanley Bone," Elizabeth drawled his name out. "He needs the site to be destroyed so he can keep on going with his excavation for the railway."

"I met him this morning," Edmund said to her. "But he is simply a businessman."

"A businessman whose site is going to be destroyed and bodies happen to be found there on that exact same day," Elizabeth said to her father and she shrugged, folding her arms over her chest. "I am just saying, it seems more than coincidental, doesn't it?"

"You have an over-active imagination," Edmund said to her. "I suspect that is as a result of you looking into my case files. Regardless, you should not be here."

"I brought you sandwiches," Elizabeth responded, dropping the packaged food onto the desk.

"And to spy," Edmund retorted.

"I am just intrigued," Elizabeth said innocently. "Besides, where is the girl? I did not see her in the entranceway."

"I interviewed her earlier, but her mind is not her own," Edmund said with a firm shake of his head. "She cannot remember what she saw. She said all that she saw was darkness before she saw their dead bodies…and…she is with a child too. She is pregnant."

"Pregnant?"

"Very much so," Edmund said. "I have given her to the care of Dr Crabbe. She has been in his care for over two years. I hope that he will take care of her and perhaps be able to discuss with her what had happened if she cannot remember a thing."

"How can she not remember a thing?" Elizabeth questioned from him. "Do you not find that odd?"

"Shock…grief…it can do many things. She is also epileptic. It is possible she had a fit."

"Poor girl," Elizabeth said in a soft voice.

"Indeed," Edmund said.

"So, do you think that someone was framing her?"

"Framing her?"

"Well, she is epileptic…found at the crime scene with no other witnesses…and she is covered in blood. She is the perfect girl to frame," Elizabeth informed her father and he looked at her with arched brows. She shrugged and felt the need to defend herself. "Think about it, if you wanted to get away with murder, you would frame someone who suffered from epileptic fits who could not remember a thing about what she had seen."

"You pose an interesting point."

"Thank you," Elizabeth said, feeling a sense of validation.

"In the meantime, I need your assistance. Lucy's siblings are currently in the entrance hall and I intend to take them to Deborah Goren," he informed her. "You can come with me before you return home. You have done enough sleuthing for the day, Elizabeth."

"That is unfair."

"As is life," Edmund said and stood up, grabbing a sandwich on his way and taking a bite of it. "Now come along, I need you to come and help me with this."

….

Elizabeth had no other option but to return home after her father had forced her home. Emily was already back and preparing dinner for the evening. Although, there was no doubt that Edmund would miss it. He would be working late.

"I saw her today."

Elizabeth looked up from the book she had been reading, although her mind had been on her father's case. Emily stood in the doorway to the sitting room and Elizabeth arched her brow while her mother wrung her hands on the tea towel she was holding. Closing her book, Elizabeth folded one leg over the other.

"Who, mother?" Elizabeth questioned.

"Mathilda," she whispered her name and Elizabeth felt a chill run through her body and her spin stiffened. She sniffed and shook her head. Not this.

"Mother, Mathilda has gone."

"She came to me," Emily continued and Elizabeth wanted to close her ears and hear no more. She did not want to listen to anymore. She did not want to hear her mother say these things. But what other option did she have? She looked to her and Emily moved quickly, kneeling down in front of Elizabeth and grabbing hold of her hands. "She came to me while I was at prayer this morning, Elizabeth. She told me that she was waiting for me…waiting for us. She wants us to go home to her."

"Mother," Elizabeth could only whisper her name, her throat clenching and her eyes beginning to widen and water. She could not do this. She did not want to do this. "It was not her, mother."

"Yes, it was," Emily said, her voice becoming slightly terser as she spoke to her daughter. Elizabeth struggled for breath. She wanted to push her mother from her and tell her that she was mistaken. She was wrong. "Elizabeth, if you would only come to me and understand…you can see her too. She looked exactly as she should…so very beautiful."

"Mother, it was not her," she said quickly again, squeezing her mother's hands, almost as though squeezing them tightly would get her to see the truth. "You know that to be true. She has gone…I know that it is hard, mother, but you know it is the truth."

"Why can you not see?" Emily demanded from her and moved to her feet, pacing along the length of the fireplace. "Why can you not understand?"

"Because you are in pain…because you are longing to see her," Elizabeth said and tossed her back onto the seat behind her as she stood up. "Mother, I want to help you. Please, let me help you."

"No, you do not want to help me," she snapped back. "You do not believe. How can you help me if you do not believe me?"

"Mother-"

"-Enough!" Emily interrupted and Elizabeth startled, a sharp breath escaping her. She closed her eyes for a moment and felt a tear roll down her cheek. "Mathilda comes to me. She is mine. She is my little girl…and she comes to me…you…you deny me her…just as you helped her to be taken."

Elizabeth felt the words sting then. She struggled to gain her composure, but she did not flee. It was her mother who left, running through the house and up the stairs. Elizabeth flopped back into her chair and she cried openly, legs moving to her chest. She tugged her arms around them and buried her cheek into the skirt on her knees. She didn't know how she could help her mother. How could she help her when she did not want help?

….

Edmund knew that Susan had been involved. She had gone to the murder scene. She had committed the crime of the man who had died to protect Lucy. He had confronted Jackson about her and he had claimed ignorance. He had claimed that he had no idea of what Susan had done and he blamed him. He had fought with him. Jackson had said words. He had said words about how Edmund was not a man to pass judgement. He had no place to speak of Mathilda. No one spoke of his daughter. No one dared to speak of it. And so Edmund had threatened him. He had threatened him and then he had left with Jacksons till proclaiming his innocence.

He had returned home and had wanted nothing more than to drink himself to sleep for the evening. The lights in all of the rooms were out and he went to the kitchen. He saw that the dinner was uncooked. A piece of meat was on the side, completely untouched. Vegetables were peeled on the table, but they were not cooked. Edmund frowned and he turned around and moved to the sitting room. He found Elizabeth in the living room, curled into a ball on her chair.

"Elizabeth?" Edmund whispered into the darkness.

"You need to help her," Elizabeth said to her father, peering to look over at him. "Mother is not well."

"I know," Edmund whispered to her.

"No, you do not," Elizabeth challenged him, wiping her eyes with the back of her hands as Edmund turned the small lamp on in the corner. She remained curled in her ball. "She told me today that she sees Mathilda," Elizabeth spoke and Edmund almost went pale white at that news. She looked to him and saw the shock on his face. His eyes widened and Elizabeth nodded. "I have heard her whispering sometimes, almost as though she is talking to Mathilda, but she has never openly told me that she has spoken to her…not like tonight…and she…she was angry."

"Angry?"

"I have seen mother angry," Elizabeth said. "I saw it when I was a child, but I have never seen her look like this. She…she blamed me once again. She blamed me that she had to talk to her this way because I had helped her to be taken from her."

"No."

"Yes," Elizabeth said with a nod of her head. "But I do not care about that. I know that she blames me. She can deny it, but I know the truth. What I care about are her claims that she sees Mathilda. That is what concerns me. She needs help and I am scared for her."

"I…let me talk to her."

"Do you think that will help?" Elizabeth questioned from him.

Edmund gulped, his throat suddenly dry before he shrugged out of his coat and laid it down onto the stool. He perched in his own chair then and Elizabeth looked to him, cheeks stained red.

"What do we do?" she asked him.

He shrugged his shoulders once more. "I do not know," he admitted to her.

….

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