Marina woke up in George's room, with Celeste curled up next to her. She gingerly freed a lock of her hair from her daughter's tiny, strong grip, and sat up.

The sun wasn't quite out yet. Thin, disinterested light filtered through the window into the room, lighting everything in silvery shades. Marina wasn't usually the type to wake up before the sun – her sisters would always pounce on her in bed to get her up in the mornings – but she was anxious, and had been having troubles sleeping since she brought Mrs. Abernathy to London.

It had been six days now since Marina left London, and still no word from Philip. She had no idea how the case was progressing, if he had seen Mr. Abernathy again, if he was well. She rubbed her face and sighed. Why did she have to be so worried about the man? It was clear he wasn't thinking of her.

She didn't enjoy this one-sided love affair at all.

She lay back down beside Celeste and closed her eyes, trying to force herself back to sleep. It was no good. Thoughts kept swirling in her head – worries for Philip, for Mrs. Abernathy and her children.

She got up, leaving Celeste sleeping soundly in bed, and padded quietly down the hall, into Philip's childhood room. She was missing him, and wanted to feel close to him again.

Mrs. Crane had not kept Philip's room as a shrine to him, not as she had done with George. Marina supposed it made sense – Philip was still alive after all, and didn't require the same safe-keeping of his memory – but she still felt a little hurt on Philip's behalf. It wasn't just the room. It was the way Mrs. Crane spoke sometimes, the little comments she made, how she would talk about George whenever possible, while deriding Philip for his choices. She made it clear that George was - and now always would be - her favorite, and it wasn't fair to Philip.

Philip's room had been remade into a guest room. Marina walked around, looking for signs of Philip, but there was no mess of books, no ink stains on the sheets. She sat at the small desk against the wall and pulled opened the drawer, but it was empty.

Marina sighed and looked out the window. The light was beginning to turn golden as the sun peeked over the horizon. The view from Philip's room looked out East, back towards Hampstead.

She got up and leaned on the windowsill, wishing she could go home again, when she felt the inscription under her fingers. She looked down and saw letters crudely carved into the windowsill. P and G.

She blinked and leaned closer. Had Philip carved these letters? It seemed so unlike him. But the carving was not so old and worn that it was likely to belong to Philip's ancestors.

What did the letters mean? Philip and George? Polity and Governance? She laughed at this – Philip would be the type to carve some instructional acronym into his furniture.

Philip and Gloria?

Marina glared at the letters then, at the thought. She had always wondered, always had her suspicion about those two… Had a young Philip been in love with Gloria Braithewite after all? Had he pined for her, carved their names together in hopes of one day catching her eye…?

She heard Celeste wake up and call for her from down the hall and went back to her, welcoming the distraction from her disturbing thoughts.

"Breakfast time?" she asked Celeste, picking her up and bringing her downstairs.

They found Mrs Crane already at the table, sipping her morning tea.

"We've had a letter from Philip," Mrs. Crane said, tapping the letter with her finger.

Marina forced herself not to snatch the letter from her. "What does it say?" she asked.

Mrs. Crane made a face, then held the letter out to Marina. "Here, read it yourself. I'll hold Celeste."

Marina took the letter and turned away slightly to read it, not that it was likely to hold any private information. Only, she was worried that she might react to his words, that she might show her eagerness for him.

'Mrs. Abernathy has been successful in her suit for custody of the children. However, Mr. Abernathy will retain ownership of the farm in Hampstead. Given his past behavior, it would not be wise for Mrs. Abernathy to return to Hampstead. I will stay in London to help her and the children find a new place to settle before returning.

Sending my best to you all,

Philip."

"She won!" Marina exclaimed, joy and relief filling her veins with light. She hadn't realized how worried she had been, how pessimistic her expectations. Knowing that Mrs. Abernathy and her children would not be forced to return to her abusive husband gave her more happiness than she had expected.

Marina was disappointed though, that Philip would be longer in London. She wished he was there with them, so he could tell her more details of the judgment, of Mrs. Abernathy's win. She wanted nothing more than to give him a big, congratulatory hug. She laughed to herself, imagining his stiff expression, if she ever did so.

Well, she couldn't have every happiness.

Two days later she came down for breakfast and Mrs. Crane handed her a letter.

"For you, from London."

"Oh?" Marina took the letter, hoping it was from Philip, but there was no sender indicated on the envelope. Curious, she opened it, and her heart sank at the sight of the familiar letterhead on the pamphlet inside.

"My dear reader, there is a new fashion sweeping the social circles of London these days: divorce."

Marina almost threw the pamphlet straight in the fire, but she couldn't help her curiosity about what Lady Whistledown would have to say on this subject.

"Will we soon see the leading couples of the Ton making use of the newest legal wrangle? There are certainly some who should, based on their very public feelings towards each other.

One of the young men at the centre of this issue is the leading expert on divorce – the young attorney Mr. Philip Crane. You may remember him, dear reader, as the man who snagged a young lady who was quite the fashion herself, when she first appeared in our social circles – until she took a tumble (and was tumbled).

We have seen the debonair Mr. Crane in our fair city in company not with his wife, but with one of his divorcees. Perhaps he will be making use of his own services in the near future…"

Marina crushed the paper in her hand and bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming. She took three deep breaths through her nose and stared at the fire, willing herself to stay calm.

"Marina dear? What is it?"

Marina forced a smile and turned back towards Mrs. Crane. "Oh… nothing. An advertisement." She threw the pamphlet and envelope into the fire so Mrs. Crane wouldn't be able to see it and went to sit at the table.

"Let's go out for a walk today, shall we?"

Mrs. Crane held up her hands. "Not me, I'm afraid. My old bones are quite sore this morning. I think I shall stay about the house."

"Oh, are you alright?"

"Oh, quite alright – it will happen to you when you reach my age as well," Mrs Crane said, waving off her concern. "You go ahead and take Celeste – the country air will be good for both of you."

Marina and Celeste set off after breakfast. At first Marina was happy to wander at Celeste's slow pace, but Celeste quickly tired, and Marina needed to stretch her legs and let off some of her angry energy, so she hoisted Celeste onto her shoulders and set off towards the woods at a quick pace.

"Let's go see the ruins of your old estate home shall we?"

By the time they reached the ruins Marina was breathing heavily and sweating in the late morning heat. She was feeling much more emotionally even as well.

What did Lady Whistledown know of her? What did that harpy know of anyone? Of feeling? It was just so frustrating. Marina had convinced herself that she was free of the woman's clutches, that she couldn't be hurt by Lady Whistledown anymore. She had thought she was safe, yet here she was again, emotions in turmoil because of that stupid woman.

Because she had allowed herself to feel again.

She looked over at Celeste, happily climbing over the moss covered rocks that were all that was left of the once grand Crane estate. No matter what happened – no matter what Lady Whistledown said, or how Philip felt, Marina had made Celeste, and she was perfect.

"Hang the rest of the world," Marina muttered and got to her feet to go to her daughter.

"Marina."

Marina stopped and looked up, a chill running down her spine. Mr. Abernathy stood at the other edge of the clearing, just outside the tumbled walls of the ruined estate. He took a step forward, stumbling a little on the uneven ground, and let himself into what used to be the kitchen.

Marina leaned over and picked Celeste up, not taking her eyes off Mr. Abernathy. "Mr. Abernathy…" she greeted him in what she hoped was a calming tone, readying herself to run at his slightest move.

"'Tis a lovely day, in't it?" he asked, no trace of friendliness in her voice. "How nice fer you, to be able to spend it with yer child." He stepped toward her and she took two steps back. "I mighta' brought my chilrun wit' me, if not fer you."

"You never spent time with your children when you were married – why would you start now?" Even now, in her vulnerable position, Marina found she couldn't go along with his lies. Her anger roared back to life in her belly. "Your situation is your own damn fault."

His face turned red and he strode towards her. "You bitch!" he spat, lunging towards her. Marina stumbled back and fell – with Celeste on top of her thank god – reaching out with her other hand to break her fall. She felt a sharp pain in her hand as she fell, landing on a stone from a wall, but she was focused on Mr. Abernathy, bearing down on her, on Celeste. He would do violence to them, she knew. He had been violent with his wife; he had been violent with his children, but Marina would not allow him to lay a hand on her daughter.

Her fingers closed around the stone and she lifted it, threw it at him as he advanced. She reached for another stone immediately, but her aim was good – the first stone hit Mr. Abernathy in the forehead and he fell to the ground.

Marina got to her feet, clutching Celeste to her chest, and turned to run. She didn't wait to see what Mr. Abernathy would do next. Celeste started crying, and Marina tried to soothe her as she ran through the trees back towards the house. "It's alright, he can't hurt you. He won't touch you. I won't let him." Her anger and fear fueled her mad dash through the woods. She could still hear him behind her, feel his rough hand on her shoulder…

She nearly cried with relief when they came out of the trees onto the wide lawn of Mrs. Crane's estate. She raced across the lawn, seeing Mr. Broughton, the gardener, across the field. He looked at her in alarm and she ran past him to the house, only then turning to see if she had been followed.

The field behind her was empty.

"Are you alright Missus?"

"Mr. Broughton – yes – please fetch Mrs. Crane. I think I will need your help." She took Celeste inside, kissing her head and bouncing her gently, but still Celeste cried. "It's ok. We're ok. You're safe." She collapsed onto the couch in the sitting room, holding back the tears that threatened. She didn't want to scare Celeste anymore than she had been.

"Good heavens woman, what has happened?" Mrs. Crane exclaimed and rushed over. "Are you alright? Is it Celeste?"

"She's alright – just spooked I think," Marina said. "Mr. Abernathy came after us at the old house. I hit him with a stone and he went down. I think we need to go look for him." She was shaking horribly, now that the adrenaline was leaving her body. She envisioned the scene again, saw in her mind's eye Mr. Abernathy falling to the ground, and she worried now that she might have killed the man. She looked down at Celeste with tears on her cheeks and for a moment she hoped she had killed him. She would gladly kill that horrid man to save her daughter. She realized that the left side of Celeste's dress was soaked in blood and cried out.

She put Celeste down and lifted her dress, looking for the injury, but Celeste reached out to Marina, and she realized that it was her own hand that was bleeding. She must have hurt it when she fell on the stone. She held out her hand and saw a bit of white showing through the blood – the bone peeking through the gristle and mess of her palm. Mrs. Crane shrieked and yelled for Mrs. Forrester, and Marina started laughing.

"Marina? Marina my dear, I believe you are in shock," Mrs. Crane said, kneeling down and stroking her hair.

Marina shook her head. "I'm just so relieved it isn't Celeste's blood." She turned to Celeste and hugged her close again. "It's alright. Mama is alright."

Mrs. Forrester arrived and Mrs. Crane sent her to fetch the doctor.

"I don't need the doctor," Marina said, thinking about that awful man. Treatment from him would likely be worse than no treatment at all.

"Don't be silly – you are seriously injured. Fetch the doctor," Mrs. Crane repeated to Mrs. Forrester, who ran off to do as she was told. Marina watched her go and sighed, hoping she might not find the doctor at all.

"Someone should go to the ruins and search for Mr. Abernathy as well," Marina said. She was feeling oddly calm now, strangely detached from her own body. Mrs. Crane turned and frowned at Marina. "I think I need something to bind my hand, then we should change Celeste out of this dress." She looked down at her own blood stained skirt. "Myself as well." She turned and smiled at Celeste. "That will make us both feel better won't it?"

She held Celeste out to Mrs. Crane to take her, but Celeste screamed and clung to Marina. "Alright, we'll stay together won't we? It was scary wasn't it?" She picked Celeste up and put her in her lap, breathing in her infant scent to calm herself. "Mama was scared too," she whispered. "But I will never let anyone hurt you."

Celeste sat in her lap as Mrs. Crane tied bandages tightly around Marina's hand, and then the little girl refused to stand more than a few feet away from Marina as they changed into clean clothes. When the doctor arrived he tried to make Celeste leave the room, but she would have none of it, and Marina was happy to hold her while the doctor ministered her wounded hand, which was more painful than the initial injury had been. Afterwards he spoke only to Mrs. Crane, evidently too disgusted with Marina after all their interactions to even acknowledge her.

"Mama may need to find a new doctor at this rate," Marina whispered to Celeste. Celeste frowned, her small face puckered into an expression of deep worry, and she reach out to touch Marina's brow. Marina laughed and kissed her daughter's hand, earning herself a disapproving glare from the doctor.

Once Mrs. Crane had seen the doctor off she returned to Marina's side. "I will write to Philip, to tell him what has passed."

Marina turned to frown at her. "What will you tell him about what happened?" she asked. She wondered what Philip would think of it all. He had said he would be angry, if Celeste was ever in danger. "Make sure to tell him that Celeste is safe – that she has come to no harm."

Mrs. Crane smiled. "Of course I will. You could write him something as well."

"No, I…" Marina held up a shaking hand. "I think it's best if you write."