The morning before she was due to travel to Oxfordshire to visit Ada, Ethel was sitting at what was once her friend's desk in the Receiving Room. Her cases had been packed for several days and the thought of a good night's rest and an early cab to Paddington in the morning was sustaining her through the day. She had replied to Ada's letter but had made no mention of coming to visit, and in her correspondence, via Mr Holland, with Lady Burbridge both had sworn to keep it a surprise for Ada. Her daydreaming about the look on Ada's face when she saw her coming up to Burbridge Hall was suddenly shattered by a kerfuffle at the Receiving Room door.

"Make way, make way!" the porters shouted as they wheeled a woman towards Ethel. The woman was in her thirties, semi-conscious, and was sporting a number of injuries to her face and wrists.

"Take her to room one," Ethel directed. As she did so, a pair of police officers, one tall and dark haired, the other more portly and beginning to salt and pepper, walked into the Receiving Room, both bleeding, with an equally bloodied man handcuffed between them. The handcuffed man stood a head taller than the leaner of his two captors and was wider than them both put together. He had a ruddy complexion, a cruel look in his eye, and his face was covered in stubble and scars.

"He did this to her," the younger of the two officers announced, attempting to stem the flow of blood pouring out of his clearly broken nose with the cuff of the tunic of his free arm, "caught red handed!"

Ethel resisted the urge to grin at the officer's unintentional play on words, and said firmly, "the three of you please go to room two."

Entering room one, Ethel opened her mouth to speak when Dr Culpin said,

"Ah, Ethel, good, make sure there are no disturbances in here, I need to perform an internal examination."

Ethel stepped out of the room, informed Nurse Ansett to not disturb Dr Culpin, and then slipped back through the doorway.

"Did he?" she began, her eyes widening, questioningly.

"Almost certainly," Dr Culpin replied, immediately understanding. He beckoned Ethel to come closer. As she approached, Dr Culpin pushed aside the patient's skirts and torn underwear. Ethel noticed patches of scarlet staining the cotton, and blueish purple staining her flesh. Her heart and mind suddenly leapt to Ada, and how she had dealt with this trauma alone.

"Her name's Lucy," Dr Culpin said.

"Hello Lucy," Ethel soothed kindly.

"Where am I?" Lucy slurred.

"You're in The London," Ethel replied, taking her hand, "I'm afraid you're hurt, Dr Culpin wants to check you, down below, he thinks whoever hurt you has." She stopped, unable to form the words.

"What's happened?" Lucy continued, "I hit my head, everythin's a blur."

"Did you allow a man to have consensual intercourse with you?" Dr Culpin asked firmly.

"Yer what?"

"Did you let him give you one?"

"No, I tried fight'ning 'im off, didn't I, oh my head, I'm gonna be…"

"Bucket!"

Ethel dived across the room and miraculously managed to position a bucket under Lucy as she projectile vomited across the room.

"She's clearly concussed," Dr Culpin began, "but I need to do an examination. She's lost blood so she might have torn something. Sit here and keep her calm, I'll be as quick as I can. And good work with the bucket."

"Thank you Dr Culpin!" Ethel chirped with only a hint of sarcasm. "Lucy," she continued, taking her patient's hand, "Doctor is just going to check everything is, where it is supposed to be."

"Ok, doc!" Lucy drawled, "Owww!" she squeaked as Dr Culpin inserted a speculum into her.

"That's it Lucy," Ethel soothed.

"You've been lucky Lucy," Dr Culpin remarked a few moments later, "there is no sign of internal damage, but you definitely need admitting, these cuts cleaning, and monitoring for worsening concussion symptoms or bleeding. Could you find a bed for her please?" he finished, turning to Ethel.

"Yes Dr Culpin, and when I have, may I have a word, in private?"

"Of course Ethel," Dr Culpin replied, his brow furrowing slightly in concern.

Ethel returned from taking Lucy to the ward and sheepishly re-entered Dr Culpin's room.

"You wanted a word," Dr Culpin said kindly.

"It's about Sister Russell," Ethel began.

"What about her?" Dr Culpin asked.

"It's about her baby."

"Her baby?"

"Oh Millais are you the only person at The London who doesn't know the reason why Sister Russell was dismissed?"

"I had heard what I thought were slanderous rumours, are they true?"

"Ada was raped," Ethel hissed under her breath, "and impregnated, obviously. She's due to give birth in just over six weeks. She couldn't identify the man who attacked her, she could only give a vague description. Tall, strong, ruddy in complexion, and with scars and stubble across his face. The man the police brought in, having arrested him for attacking Lucy, fits that description."

"As do half the men in the East End," Dr Culpin replied, "and no Ethel, you can't just barge in there and say 'did you rape my friend?' before you get that idea in your head."

"But what if it was him Millais?"

"He's been arrested, he will go to trial and get the punishment he deserves, and he won't be able to hurt anyone else. Now, send me in my next patient, please Nurse Bennett."

"Yes Dr Culpin."

The image of Lucy's attacker stayed with Ethel for the rest of the day. As she tried to settle down for her longed for early night, her mind could not help mulling over the possibility that he was the same man who had attacked Ada. The man who had defiled her best friend. Millais was right, of course, he was now being subjected to the punishment he deserved, but he would never be tried for hurting Ada. He would never know the consequence of his actions, the life that he created, the life that he destroyed.

These same thoughts still swam through Ethel's head as she boarded the train at Paddington the following morning. She stared out of the window for most of the journey, watching grey turn to green as the train rattled through the countryside. At Reading, her thoughts were interrupted.

"I've finished with it," said the smartly dressed gentleman who had been sat opposite her, but she had barely noticed, waving his now slightly crumpled morning newspaper at Ethel, "would you like it, miss?"

"Yes," Ethel replied, snapping out of her daydream, "thank you sir!"

The gentleman handed Ethel the newspaper and left the compartment. Ethel began to thumb her way through the paper, her eyes nonchalantly scanning the headlines, though the main text was largely a blur. Towards the back of the newspaper an oddly familiar image suddenly focused Ethel's gaze. It was him. The man from the Receiving Room. The man who attacked Lucy. She rattled through the article, snippets of detail sticking with her. Samuel Robertson. Monthope Road, Whitechapel. Indecent assault. Trial by jury. Old Bailey. The photograph captured every cruel detail that Ethel had seen in the Receiving Room the previous day. The most prominent being the lack of remorse. Ethel folded the newspaper into her bag, wondering if there was a slight chance, even the smallest of chances, that Ada might recognise him.

When she disembarked the train, Ethel was most pleased to find Lady Burbridge's carriage, her liveried footmen and her quartet of dapple-greys waiting for her just as had been promised. The gentle trot through the Oxfordshire countryside lifted Ethel's spirits and wiped Samuel Robertson's remorseless scowl out of her mind. As the carriage entered the wrought iron gates of Burbridge Hall, Ethel could not prevent herself letting out an audible gasp. Ada was right, the house was very beautiful, but every dark window of its imposing façade gave off an air of sadness, of empty longing.

"Welcome to Burbridge Hall Miss Bennett," Roberts the footman announced as the carriage slowed to a halt.

At the door, Ethel was met by Sanders the butler, and shown into Lady Constance's parlour.

"It's wonderful that you are here, my dear," Lady Constance confirmed, taking Ethel's hands, "Ada will be so pleased to see you. She talks of you often and I know she misses you."

"I miss her dearly too, The London is not the same without her."

"Miss Bennett is to have the room next door to Nurse Russell's" Lady Constance called to Sanders, "do show her where to go. Ada is resting," she added, "the nearer her time she is getting the more she is beginning to struggle. I keep telling her that she should be resting and not overworking, but she won't listen!"

"How very like Ada," Ethel replied, smiling.

"Her temporary replacement arrives next week, they'll have a little while to get used to me before Ada goes into her confinement."

"Very good," Ethel confirmed.

"Luncheon is served at one, don't be late either of you!"

"Of course not Lady Constance."

Ethel followed Sanders up the stairs and into the room which was to be hers for the next fortnight. She threw off her hat and coat, and then crept out again and listened intently at Ada's door. Hearing no sound, she opened the door just enough to be able to squeeze through. There, flat out fast asleep across the four poster bed, was a very pregnant Ada. Although it had been ten weeks since they had been together, the amount she had grown still came as a shock to Ethel. Ada's ankles, even through her stockings, looked swollen, and there was a fullness in her face and breasts that had not been previously present. No wonder she had been tired, she looked fit to burst.

Ethel climbed onto the bed and lay on her side next to Ada. Ada stirred slightly but did not wake. Ethel placed her hand very gently on Ada's abdomen, feeling, fleetingly, tiny kicks. Ada stirred more purposefully, Ethel reached out and stroked Ada's cheek.

"Morning," she whispered.

"Morning Nurse Bennett," a half-asleep Ada drawled, "fetch me a cup of tea."

"You've got some cheek," Ethel giggled, "I've come half way across the home counties to see you and all you can say in a return is "fetch me a couple of tea," she finished, imitating Ada's mannerisms.

It was at that point that Ada suddenly came to, and realised who was lying on the bed next to her.

"Ethel!" she gasped.

"Hello Ada," Ethel replied.

"But, what, why?" Ada began to stammer.

"I heard you needed a hug," Ethel replied, embracing her best friend in her arms.

"Oh Ethel," Ada sighed, "you came. Thank you."