In a situation where one is confronted with a current fiancé and a past one, one must pick the most suitable course of action. To Eliza that was to pretend to swoon onto the ground, in one swift movement she lets her hand fly to her head and her body fall backwards in an arch. James springs into action and catches her before she can hit the floor. Jasper and the young gentleman turn in surprise as she collapses and they all surround her, disagreement forgotten. People in the street turn to see the commotion she has caused.

"Eliza, are you quite well?" Jasper takes hold of her hand as James hoists her upright by her shoulders.

"A sudden headache." She lies quickly. Jasper frowns at her as she detaches herself from himself and James, she looks up and down the stranger and an unreadable expression crosses across her face and her eyes narrow but she turns to Jasper quickly.

"Do you have a carriage near?" Eliza asks overacting her distress.

"Just around the there." James supplies concerned.

"James would you tell Charlotte, Lady Harrington and Miss Penelope I have returned home." She asks weakly gesturing to Madame Olive's, "They are inside."

"Of course." He says glancing at the dress shop and back at Jasper who glowers at Eliza.

"If you would forgive me." Eliza releases Jaspers arm and walks towards the carriage that she recognises as Jasper's, no hint of ill in her walk or pace. James stares after her and Jasper quickly follows, the young man's mouth opens in protest but he doesn't voice his objections. The carriage door is opened by a footman at Jasper's nod. Inside the carriage, Eliza sits down and leans her head against the wall, Jasper climbs inside and takes the seat opposite to her, a scowl across his face having realised her farce long before. The carriage jolts forward and you can hear the clip-clop of the horse's hooves on the cobbles.

"Explain." He says shortly, she sighs at his annoyed expression.

"That man was indeed my fiancé a few years past. He was originally engaged to my sister but..." She begins.

"You have a sister?" Jasper interrupts surprised.

"She passed," Eliza says softly, "I don't talk about her much."

Her eyes dim, her mind replays the short time spent with Eloise, she shakes herself and continues.

"She was engaged to Sir Richard and when she died, my mother wished for me to take my sister's place, however, I was told the feelings on the match were not reciprocated and nothing more was said."

"He seemed to be quite familiar with you to be strangers for a few years." He says suspiciously.

"He visited me a few times at Ryddan Manor, we have an acquaintance," Eliza replies looking out the window, uninterested. Richard is of no consequence to her or her family, he may be rich and wealthy but the bearing of little personality made him a dull amusement to her.

"An acquaintance he seems to be proud of." Jasper grinds his teeth and Eliza looks up in surprise at his menacing tone.

"Then it is an error in his judgement surely. No one of respectable situation and standing prides themselves on an acquaintance with me." She comments lightly.

"That is my point," Jasper says harshly

"Your point?" Eliza's mouth sets into a line. "Do elaborate."

"A person with any morality would sooner call the Queen a whit than be proud of any relations with you." Jasper continues unaware of the hole he is digging, "The gossip and rumours James has informed me of, no one has a kind word behind your back."

Eliza wills herself to remain calm though her words come out brittle and thin.

"This is truly your opinion of me? I am so low beyond your own station?"

Jasper recognises the look on her face and all too late her notices his mistake, his face tells the honest truth. Eliza finds herself eerily still and calm. Jasper watches her like a ticking bomb, one wrong move might cause a detonation.

"Stop the carriage." She calls up to the driver. The carriage groans to a stop and she scrambles out of the door to no objection of Jasper's. On the stone pavement, she feels the familiar anger flow through her blood.

"Don't call on me, I am sure I will bear the deprivation." Eliza slams the door shut on him. "Insufferable man!"

Unaware of the area of London she is in she simply begins walking in one direction. She pushes through the crowd with no regard to the general public. People stop and stares as she marches through, how dare he? How can one man upset her so much and cause such offence. She hurries downs the streets, her anger fuelling her walk until she is almost completely alone, the alley she slips into is dark and wet with a strong smell of ale. Fear begins to creep into her heart as she stumbles down the cobbles towards the blackness. Her logic kicks in and she stops, the more she walks the more lost she will become, the backstreets of London are like a maze and more dangerous than a dragon's nest. Full of murders, thieves and brothels it can be rather deserted in the morning however the alleys don't seem to receive natural light. She sits down on a create outside the back of a public house. She doesn't cry, why waste more tears. It isn't news to her that people talk horrid nonsense behind her back but she thought it was because they didn't know her and yet isn't Harrington proof that her theory is incorrect, despite the rare intimate connection moments he still thought so little of her. The sound of metal on metal makes her jump and she looks into the blackness, even when squinting her eyes she can't see the source of the noise, she lays her head on her knees and sighs. Again the metal clang rings in the dark and this time a figure emerges and the one turns into two and then three, she stands and backs up against the wall, a knife in both hand of each of the men makes her heart beat faster than before.

"Give us y' money and we will cause y' no 'arm." The biggest says menacingly stepping forward.

" 'an that coat, fetch a pretty price that." The one with the beard says admiring the coat she wears. Eliza looks down the street and sees a small side alley, her minds calculate the risk or running into darkness while being chases by gorilla-like men. She unbuttons the coat, carefully pulling the garment off and balling it up.

"All my money is in there." She throws the coat towards the men, she stands in her dress, shivering slightly.

"Thank you, ma's." The big one says surprised catching it, evidently, their normal victims aren't so complying but Eliza knows in a fight she'd come off worse.

" 'an the dress." The last one says.

"I beg your pardon?" Eliza says too stunned to keep the irritation out of her voice. "You have my money and my coat, you wish my dress too?."

The man who spoke steps forward and throws the knives up into her face, she tries to step back but he attempts to grab her wrist and slices the skin on her wrist, the cut is deep and blood weeps out. The gasp of pain shoots out through her mouth and she wraps the wound in her other hand. Panic rises in her mind and the instinct to flee sets in and she runs to the side alley. She sprints down the alley and doesn't stop until she is certain the men are too far away to follow. Her heart and mind recovered she pauses by a group of men outside of a building, all too drunk to be of any consequence. She notices the run-down building is a brothel, privately owned by the East India Company, a derelict building supporting too many drunks and whores similar to the one her father...

In her shock recovery, she scarcely recognises the dreadful place as the site of her own father's last breath. Having visited it as a child with the coroner she can remember the distinct way the roof of the brothel just to offer shelter to a few potential customers and how the corners of the wood are the home for woodlice and cockroaches that scuttle around. The trough in front of the house filled with dirty water and floating crap. The same run-down signs swings in the wind groaning in protest. The sludge on the street combined with the icy sleet has made Eliza's dress dirty and wet, she fits in with her surroundings. Her father was killed on a house call to a certain lady, a relative that caused strife in her family for too long a time and that may be Eliza's only hope. She hurries past the brothel and takes a narrow street towards the river, a few twists in the alley and several uncomfortable passes in the dark reveals to her the sight of Fairfield Street, the most prestigious street in the heart of London, a meeting ground for the vultures of the ton. She staggers through the puddles on the road until the number 11 appears. A high tall building identical to those around it, Eliza climbs the stairs and knocks on the shiny black door. It swings open almost instantly, a butler stands there holding a candle and looking down his nose at her state.

"Is Lady Elizabeth De Roch awake?" She asks urgently, trying to see inside.

"The Lady Elizabeth is unavailable." The butler replies snootily and he moves to close the door.

Eliza throws her good hand up to stop it slamming into her face. "I simply wish to see her."

"I take no pleasure in turning you away....." He lies smoothly.

"Mathews!" A voice calls from inside, "Who is at the door?"

The famous Lady Elizabeth De Roch appears at the door and her eyebrows shoot straight up as they take in Eliza's state.

"Oh dear." She says disapprovingly. The butler seems wary to let his mistress anywhere near the stranger on the step, he stands like a wall between the two women.

"Oh Mathews step aside," She fusses, "Let my niece inside."