This chapter is dedicated to Aurora-belle David :)

A walk always did Shirley some good when she was upset. But as she looked out the window, she knew there would be no walking outdoors today. "Bloody hell," she muttered to herself peering out the window past the rain that was lashing violently against it as if trying to get in.

As thunder rumbled in the distance, Shirley sighed and moved away from the window. "At least I can take a walk inside," she told herself, climbing a giant staircase and moving off down a semi-dark hallway.

She was lost in her thoughts when very suddenly she came upon Sir Henry Baskerville and Ms. Stapleton. They were close enough to be kissing. Shirley smirked and leaned up against a wall casually. "Horrid day, isn't it?" she asked.

They jumped apart, looking rather guilty. Shirley didn't miss the pain in Dorthea's eyes, nor the fact that she had been crying. It hurt to see her pain so raw and open and Shirley could only imagine just how deeply that pain was infused into Dorthea.

"Yes. Terrible day," Dorthea replied shortly before turning to Sir Henry. "I must go," she told him sharply, and left before he could say a word.

Sir Henry looked at Shirley. "We were… well, she was crying. I was comforting her."

Shirley bored her eyes into his and he shifted uncomfortably.

"That was all, I promise," he told her nervously.

But she could see it all.

"You do believe me…?" he continued.

"Yes," Shirley lied. But suddenly she felt like she was being watched and that something horrible was going to happen. She needed to leave. "Anyway, I'll be going," Shirley told him, outwardly confident. She spun around and hurried back the way she had come, cautiously monitoring her surroundings for anything suspicious.

As she rounded a corner, she saw Ms. Lyons standing there. Doing absolutely nothing. Shirley tried to suppress a startled shudder as her heart pounded wildly. "Nice day to be walking the halls, " Shirley commented, walking quickly around Ms. Lyons, leaving her behind in the shadows.

When she finally got to her room, Shirley rang for tea before settling down on one of the chairs in front of the fire. She lost herself in the flames, contemplating everything she had observed.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door and it opened quietly. A maid entered and set her tea tray on Shirley's side table.

"Thank you," Shirley told the maid. "I can do the rest." She never liked how the maids tried to do everything for her.

The maid slipped out without a word, closing the door softly behind her.

Shirley poured her tea and brought the teacup to her lips, feeling the temperature. It was practically scalding, so she just held the teacup to herself, feeling the heat seep into her. Too soon, she felt very sleepy and drifted off into a deep sleep.

When she heard a knock at the door, Shirley jerked awake. "Yes? Come in!" she called, setting her teacup, which had miraculously not been spilled, on the tray.

Dorthea entered, looking, in Shirley's opinion, like a queen. There was no hint of the crying young girl Shirley had seen only a few hours prior.

"Sit down, please," Shirley invited her, and Dorthea sat regally in the chair next to Shirley's.

"Please do not tell Jennie," Dorthea requested solemnly. "I feel she would never forgive me."

Suddenly, Shirley realized that Sir Henry must have happened upon Dorthea crying. There was no possible way she would let anyone see her crying on her own terms. Shirley marveled at the young woman's strength. She threw her left leg over the armrest of her chair and settled deeper into the chair, thankful that the pants she was wearing allowed for such a position. "What makes you think I'd do that?"

"Because the people in this world are cold and cruel and I would expect you to be as such."

The words stung, but Shirley felt sympathy for Dorthea. She, too, knew what it was like to be alone.

"I know what your husband did to you."

Dorthea looked away and did not speak, her mouth drawn into a thin line.

"I will not tell her."

Dorthea turned back. "Thank you." She rose gracefully. "I will leave you alone now." The door closed softly behind her.

Dorthea was the perfect example of a woman, Shirley thought. Beautiful and silent, wearing dresses perfectly in style. Her speech was elegant and her movements were graceful.

Shirley, herself, was the most modern woman in London, almost to the point where it became scandalous. She learned all she could and had a job. She could swear like a sailor, though she usually didn't in the presence of other women. They tended to faint whenever they heard a bad word. And she wore pants. While they were rather poofy and looked something like a skirt, they were certainly pants. It was more practical to move about without all the extra petticoats and such.

She and Dorthea were completely different.

Yet both of them were alone with no friend in the world. They had both undergone intense pain inflicted on them by the world around them. And both of them pressed onward, never giving up.

Thank you for reading :) Please review!

-FlatFox