The hackney pulled up in front of a building in the old Tudor style of the last century. The structure was constructed mainly of stone and timber with a thatched roof in need of repair. Light blazed from the murky windows casting odd shadows onto the street. Large groups of people milled about the entrance, talking loudly, though clearly and not muddled with too much drink. Eloise alighted from the cab and Edwina followed. She hesitated for a moment as expecting a footman to magically appear to help her step off the conveyance. When no one did, she hopped down from the last step on her own and felt strangely liberated.

Eloise turned and smiled brightly. "We are here."

The tavern was called The Swineherd and Edwina instantly understood why. As she looked about her curiously, she noticed that the tavern must have been a cottage at some point in the past. Broken pieces of fencing were scattered on the ground indicating remnants of a pen, Edwina presumed, for pigs.

Eloise grabbed Edwina's hand and pulled her toward the tavern. She pushed through the throng of people gathered at the entrance. A blast of heat hit Edwina when the door opened. A fire blazed brightly in a large fireplace that took up one entire wall, but it was from the press of people that made the air so thick.

"Slow down, Eloise," Edwina whispered as she smiled faintly to the men and women Eloise shoved out of her path. The attendees looked at Edwina and Eloise strangely, probably taking in their fine gowns and the elaborate curls and adornments in their hair.

"Theo!" Eloise called out. Half the people in the room turned to her and hushed loudly. A man was speaking across the room on a makeshift dais.

Eloise had the decency to look abashed as she waved apologetically at the crowd. A young man, dressed in a simple brown woolen waistcoat and cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up to elbows, approached Eloise with a broad smile. Edwina's first thought was he was quite handsome and, after observing Eloise's returned smile, she could see how her sister-in-law was taken by him.

"I did not think you would come," he said.

"I must, if I were to return these." From under the cloak, Eloise gave Theo a small bundle of books. He nodded and took them.

"Have I missed Mrs. Reynolds's speech?"

Theo shook his head. "She is set to take the stage in five minutes. After Dr. Blakeley."

"What do you have there?" Edwina asked. Theo looked down at the bundle of pamphlets he held with his free hand, which Edwina noticed was liberally stained with ink.

"Oh, The Importance of Health and the Education of the Lower Classes," Theo replied with a nod towards the dais.

"May I?"

"Certainly," Theo passed her a pamphlet. "I am tasked with passing them out to the crowd."

"Would you like some assistance?" Eloise asked, but before Theo could reply, she took half the bundle and began making her way to the edge of the room. Theo followed, looking slightly disgruntled.

Edwina drew off her hood and unbuttoned her cloak, throwing the sides of it over her shoulders. The heat was oppressive and she could feel the beads of sweat forming on her brow and her chest.

The light was bright enough in the room for her to read the short dissertation. The author advocated for the free education of the children of the lower classes, particularly an emphasis on teaching reading, writing, and basic arithmetic–all essential skills to raise oneself out of poverty. These skills will, in turn, provide the child to one day pursue a life of moderate success and wellness. Though, the author stated, it is not the end of all of society's looming problems, it is a foot on the right path forward.

The arguments were sound and well-written and by the end of it, Edwina felt the welling need inside her to right every wrong listed in the pamphlet.

Her eyes returned to the author's name. Dr. Lucas Blakeley. Edwina's brows furrowed. Why did the name feel familiar?

Despite the heat of the room, Edwina suddenly felt a chill as her eyes settled on the man speaking on the stage.

Dr. Lucas Blakeley. The same Dr. Blakeley that treated Kate not seven months ago. Edwina's heart raced with fear. If he recognized her, he would certainly report her attendance, and Eloise's, to Anthony and Kate. Neither of them would be let out of their room for months, maybe years, with only a crust of bread and water to sustain them.

No, Edwina admonished herself, neither Anthony nor Kate would be so harsh, but Eloise and Edwina would find themselves with a small contingent of footmen dogging their heels every time they wished to leave the house.

But, seven months was a long time ago. Edwina was sure that Dr. Blakeley was a busy man with hundreds of patients. Certainly, he would not remember their one encounter that did not span more than a half hour.

Edwina breathed a sigh of relief. Of course he would not. Why would he remember her?

Dr. Blakeley's deep baritone voice carried over the crowd. It was a surprise Edwina had not recognized it sooner. It had the same edge of arrogance and confidence that can only be from the mouth of a man that believed they had seen and knew it all. The same voice that rattled her nerves for days after Dr. Blakeley attended to Kate.

He would not recognize her, Edwina reassured herself as she tried to push back into the shadows. She meant nothing to him.

From her vantage point, Edwina watched Dr. Blakeley warily. He was dressed all in black, as he had done when they met before. His skin looked especially pale in contrast to his clothes, giving him an unearthly look. His hair was a glossy black, thick, and down to his shoulders. Even back when they met, it was already considered unfashionably long. Now, he was on the verge of looking like a brigand. He would need a queue to tie it back if he did not cut it soon.

His black eyes roamed over the crowd as he spoke, taking in their murmured assents to his speech. Edwina cringed as his eyes passed near her and sighed audibly when they passed her. She watched as he tensed for a moment, his face tight and his eyes widening slightly, such a slight reaction that she was certain no one would have noticed unless they were watching him as closely as she was, before his eyes snapped back to her face.

Recognition and disbelief flooded his face before being replaced with anger.

Oh, damn.

***

Lucas had arrived at The Swineherd minutes before he was set to take the stage for his presentation on the lack of educational opportunities for the impoverished and the link to their poor health and rising death rates. It would be a short speech, no more than ten minutes in length, which was all he was allowed due to the crowded nature of the schedule for the evening.

This suited Lucas just fine. He needed rest. Even though he caught snatches of sleep in the hacks between patients, on his way to the college, or meetings with solicitors on Constance's behalf, it was not enough. For the past several weeks, he reasoned that the number of hours he slept a night were less than three, and he would have gladly taken them if they were undisrupted. But, there was always an emergency calling him away in the dead of night. A birth of a babe, a broken limb, a bruised face, a feverish child, a dying man, or a beaten harlot.

He desperately needed sleep. He knew this with a cold clinical analysis that if he did not, he was set to collapse in a fit of insanity. But, he could not rest. He could not stop.

The assembly was set to start at midnight. Daylight hours were not feasible as most of the crowd attending would be working men and women who needed those hours to make their living. It was also set at night so that suspicion would not be roused by the local constables. The Swineherd was a popular tavern in Bloomsbury and many nights the large room was packed to the walls.

Tonight was no different. He took to the floor a half past midnight and expected to be out the door and back in his bed at Greymoor House no later than two in the morning. That would give him four hours of rest before rising early to prepare for his rounds in Whitechapel and his lecture at the college at noon. Spencer was set to meet him at Greymoor House at seven in the morning, when they would break their fast and review all the patient charts for the morning.

Lucas was tempted to stay the night in his apartment above Mrs. Bagwell's coffee shop as it was closer to his current location. Only a twenty minute walk if he moved quickly.

Lucas droned on, his mind half asleep. As he spoke, he searched the room for Spencer and Theo Sharpe, both of whom he tasked with handing out the pamphlets he had printed up for the evening. The pamphlet would address all the issues that Lucas did not have the time nor energy to include in his speech.

He found the two men, before allowing his attention to wander back to the crowd. A bright glimmer of yellow caught his eye, unusual as everyone else was dressed drably in black and browns.

It was a welcome sight. A bit of cheer in a dreary room. He wondered idly who would dress so loudly and fashionably at such an assembly. The woman looked as if she belonged in a ballroom, not in the midst of shopkeepers and laborers. The woman, he thought as he spoke on, looked like a flower amongst a bed of weeds. A marigold, he decided soundly. With her soft dark skin, pert lips–

Lucas froze, though he kept talking. He knew the woman. He'd known her for months as she plagued his dreams, at first on a nightly basis where he took his pleasure in her soft body, then less so as time passed and he slept less. He considered it a mild obsession, one in which his busy mind retreated to relieve itself from the harsh realities of the day. A forbidden affair that took place only when he lay unconscious to the rest of his responsibilities. A safe haven with a delectable succubus.

Was she truly here? Or, did it finally happen? Had he cracked entirely?

Lucas hesitated to look at her again for fear that she would be gone and proof that he had finally gone mad with exhaustion.

But, when he did, he saw her standing there watching him closely with those large, brown eyes that he remembered so well.

Miss Edwina Sharma.