I stepped inside my bedroom, the Hen's Chambers, at the Pleasant Pheasant Inn, looking around the space. The walls were done up in floral-patterned wallpaper, with a cream shade as its base, along with branches in a pale brown shade, accompanied by pink flowers and green leaves. The bed was a typical four-poster in cherry wood, with a fireplace directly opposite, built directly into the wall, with a large mirror above the mantelpiece.

The bedding was a pale shade of pink to match the flowers within the wallpaper, featuring curtains in the same shade both around the bed and on either side of the window, and a white lacy canopy atop the bed. There was a pale pink cushion to sit on in the window embrasure, a generous stacking of wood beside the fireplace, cherry wood flooring, and a pale pink floral patterned rug upon the floor. The bathtub was made from copper and was stationed between the fireplace and the grand bed.

"The guests who reserve the grander rooms eat here," Lottie said softly, gesturing towards the small table with two chairs close by the window. "You are permitted to read any of the books you like... Sorry, Miss Hathaway, there I go again, making assumptions..."

I blinked, surprised by the self-deprecation. "I do read, Lottie," I told her softly, "and I enjoy it very much as a pastime. Do you read?" I asked her.

Lottie sighed. "My mother taught me before she died," she said quietly. "Papa... Mr. Clyde, purchased her from the slave market that came through here, before his wife, Mrs. Amelia Clyde, passed on. Mrs. Clyde couldn't have any more babies, so when my mother, Sena, became with child, it was understood that it was Mr. Clyde's. Mrs. Clyde passed away when I was two, and my mother passed away when I was five, due to the unfortunate delivery of Daniel, my little brother, being too much for her."

"Did Daniel die, too, Lottie?" I asked softly.

Lottie nodded. "Yes, Miss Hathaway, he did," she confirmed. "Papa... Mr. Clyde, only truly has eyes for Abraham, Elias, and Jacob, his true children."

I felt complete compassion for Lottie. "I hate to say that Mr. Clyde is your father, Lottie, but anyone with eyes can see that he is," I said, shaking my head. "Shame on him for treating you so unjustly. Are you even happy here?"

Lottie looked around, before she pitched her voice lower. "No," she answered, hunching her shoulders as feet came pounding up the stairs.

"Back downstairs with you," said a rather burly young man, who glared down at Lottie with annoyance as one would muck on their shoe.

"Now," said the second, "Papa doesn't like it when Pillis is kept waiting in the kitchen."

Lottie gave me a saddened expression before she slipped out of the Hen's Chambers and went back downstairs.

"Sorry about her," said the first young man, as he and the second put down my small trunk in a careful manner.

"Tells tales, that one," the second one informed me, kicking my door partially closed. "Don't listen to a word she says."

I raised my eyebrows, slightly worried about the position of the door, but much more interested in what these men had to say, for the moment. "Oh? So she is not your half-sister?"

The first young man looked stunned. "What?" he demanded.

"That's what she was saying?" the second cried out.

I immediately found myself crossing my arms with reproach. "Clearly, you have taken a page out of your father's book when it comes to how you treat her," I said scathingly. "Perhaps you should learn that kindness costs nothing."

The first young man, clearly the older of the two, crossed the room towards me, leering down at me. "I don't take too kindly to being lectured by a woman."

"Seconded," the second man said, and came closer as well, "even if she is the refined, well-bred type of woman."

I stared up at them both without blinking. "It is not a lecture if one speaks the truth. Although, perhaps, the pair of you warrant a lecture, as general politeness should automatically extend to one's family."

The first young man came completely forward then, motioning for the second, who suddenly came up behind me and grabbed ahold of my arms. "Hold her, Eli," he growled.

Eli nodded, the movement jostling me. "Got her, Abe," he replied.

Abe, meanwhile, began tearing at my dress, mauling at my breasts without mercy, the glint in his eye hinting at enjoyment in this pastime. His grin also told me that he and Eli had likely done this to other female guests before. "Keep her still, Eli," he ordered, while I did my utmost to struggle against him, "you'll get your turn once I'm finished with her."

"Get off me!" I shouted.

"Hold her arms back with one hand and then cover the bitch's mouth!" Abe shouted, looking altogether impatient with his brother.

Eli immediately followed orders, holding me up against his body, so that he had more leverage to keep me immobile.

Abe immediately began to hike up my many layers of skirts, but I was one step ahead of him and kicked him as hard as I could in the groin. "You bitch!" he shouted, while I continued to struggle in Eli's hold, not repentant in the slightest.

The door across the hallway thundered open, and quick footsteps told me that William had heard the commotion. He pushed open my door and caught sight of the scene, rage flickering across his features in the next few seconds. He hauled Abe to his feet and threw him out, whereupon he did the same to Eli, grabbing him and getting him away from me. He then slammed the door, locking it behind them, before he turned to me, eyes wide.

"Did they hurt you?" he whispered, hands hovering, as if he wanted to assist me in covering myself up.

I sighed, lacing up the front of my gown as best I could. "My arms will likely bruise," I said softly, shrugging my shoulders, wincing slightly at the motion, as I soon realized they had hurt me more than I'd originally anticipated. "I will live..."

William sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. "We won't be staying here tonight," he declared, shaking his head. He looked at my trunk and nodded to himself. "They have yet to bring up my trunk. I can take yours with me downstairs, and you and I can go on to New Kent, if we make good time. It is twenty-five miles, but, if we get new horses, it shouldn't be a problem in the slightest."

"And the driver?" I asked tentatively.

"The driver is paid by me," William answered softly. "He'll go where he is ordered."

I sighed, lowering my eyes. "I need to get Lottie out of here," I said quietly.

William hesitated for a moment, before he nodded his head. "I'll see you to the carriage, and then we will take her with us, at least on to New Kent—"

I placed a hand upon his arm. "We need to keep her with us," I told him firmly. "Please. I know I've been a right pain, but something tells me that her father and brothers are abusing her. She needs to come with us, William. Please."

William's face shifted as I called him by his name. "All right," he said at last, "but it would be seen as improper if she was in the carriage with us. She will have to ride with the driver, who I think will be complacent."

Ten minutes later saw William and me traveling out of Williamsburg and towards New Kent, and I was not sorry to see the Pleasant Pheasant disappearing behind us.

"The Vaiden Inn will be where we stay in New Kent until the morning," William said softly, his eyes never leaving my form. "Are you all right?"

I bit my lip. "Abe and Eli..."

William clenched his fists. "They got off easy," he declared, which was when I noticed that his knuckles appeared to be inflamed.

I felt my jaw drop open. "William! What did you do?" I whispered.

"My violence disturbs you," he said softly, looking away from me.

I scooted forward, ignoring the statement as I took ahold of his hands, and smoothing them with my fingers. "Do your fingers or hands hurt very much?"

William seemed to start the moment I took his hands in mine, before he exhaled. "No. I can bear it," he answered.

I nodded my head. "I am sure you can," I said softly.

"What were you saying just now, Henrietta?" he asked quietly, making no moves to tears his hands away from mine, as he looked me over again. "About Abe and Eli?"

I swallowed. "They seemed to be the gossiping kind," I said softly. "I... I just worry that they might... That they will try to..."

"To ruin your reputation," William said, answering my statement.

I nodded. "Yes. Of course," I said quickly, "this is not your burden to bear. I willingly remained in that room with two gentlemen who were not my father, uncles, brothers, or husbands..." I shook my head at myself, knowing how idiotic I sounded, but, in this day and age, I was virtually a sinner. "Let us get to Philadelphia, and then we can, hopefully, forget about—"

"You will have to marry," William said quietly, with determination. "And, as I was the gentleman who defended your honor, it will have to be to me."

I managed to avoid William, as well as any conversations with Rachel about him, at the market that afternoon. I permitted Rachel to see me home, whereupon I did my utmost to escape to my bedroom, but Papa and Mama called me into the parlor. Slowly, I hung up my cloak, and crept into the room I'd been summoned into.

"Your uncle and aunt have written," Papa proclaimed, holding a letter aloft, "informing us that they will be with us for the winter celebrations."

I blinked, confused. "Winter celebrations?" I asked.

"Christmastime, darling," Mama explained. "Please tell me that Roger and Bree gave you all the wonderful experiences with that holiday."

I nodded. "Of course they did, Mama. I was never treated any differently that Jem, Mandy, or Davy, thank goodness."

Papa nodded with satisfaction. "That is wonderful. Anyhow," he continued, "we shall host a grand ball, although this one will have three meanings."

"Three?" I asked, thinking that a ball could prove exhausting.

"Your return to us, although we will have Hal and Minnie assist us in fabricating your familial background so that no one becomes confused," Papa said.

"The Christmas holidays, of course," Mama said, her eyes shining with excitement.

"And, of course, Hal and Minnie's arrival," Papa concluded. "Minnie loves a good party, and it will have to be a good one..."

"A great one," Mama said firmly.

"Ah, yes, of course, my dear," Papa said, "in order to appease Hal."

"This would also be the perfect opportunity for you to practice Colonial manners," Mama went on, still going on with pure, unadulterated excitement. "There will likely be many ladies and gentlemen of your age in attendance, some of which could be of British stock."

"And all the guests would be suitable members of society," Papa said, practically prancing about the room in his own version of excitement, "ones that could be your husband, or friends, down the line. I suppose you will need a new gown," he went on, regarding me closely, "yes. We shall hire the best seamstress money can buy forthwith!"

"You really don't understand," I said, shaking my head. "I don't think that this is going to go the way you want it to."

Mama patted my hand consolingly. "You are modern, I grant you, my darling, but Minnie and I will be on hand to help you."

Papa nodded. "Of course," he said patiently. "Perhaps you may even sing for us, if you would like to. That should provide worthy entertainment."

I lowered my eyes. "To be a show pony... How lovely," I said softly.

Papa continued to speak about Uncle Hal and Aunt Minnie, who had written just before their departure from the Port at Liverpool, and would be in Philadelphia in four weeks' time. Papa and Mama then summoned Mrs. Figg to inform her of their intended guests, and then Mama went with Mrs. Figg, summoning Phaedre and Venus as well, to get started on the decorations and food menu for the event in question.

"I shall do some research of my own," Papa declared, "on the best seamstresses Philadelphia has to offer."

I nodded. "I suppose that would be best."

"Would you care to invite Rachel, my dear?" he asked.

I blinked; surely, it would be lovely to have someone of my own age there, one that I had already met and was likely to form a friendship with. "Yes," I said, nodding in agreement. "She has invited me for tea tomorrow. Perhaps I could extend the invitation then." I hesitated for a moment, suddenly realizing my error. "That is... May I go to tea with her tomorrow, Papa?" I asked him tentatively.

Papa patted my cheek. "You need not ask permission for something as small as that, my dear. I would like to be kept informed of your schedule, of course, as you are living under my roof. But I like Rachel very much; she is a respectable young woman, and would be a very good friend for you, now that you are finding your footing here in the eighteenth century. Of course you may go to tea at her home tomorrow."

I gave my father an awkward smile as I excused myself, knowing that I would have to wait until nightfall to make my great escape, before returning as dawn broke and sneaking back into my bedroom. I left for Rachel and Ian's lodgings, which was also where Claire and Jamie lived, just a few short minutes away from Chestnut Street, not even in need of a carriage to get there. My fur-lined cloak, hastily given to me by Papa in the days since my unexpected arrival, provided adequate warmth as I hurried towards the Fraser and Murray household, wondering what that day would bring.

I knocked at the door, unsurprised when Rachel opened it, and stepped inside. "It's becoming colder as winter comes to the forefront of the horizon," I mused, hanging up the cloak, worried when Rachel didn't readily answer me.

She, instead, let out a sigh. "I have known Alexandra for three years now, and I count her as one of my closest friends," she said quietly. "I believe that thee and I could become close friends as well, Henrietta, but I fear thee hides something from me."

I turned around slowly, taking in Rachel's worried expression. "I believe that we could become close friends, too," I said, hoping that she sensed the sincerity in my voice.

Rachel's brow furrowed. "I don't suppose thee will tell me why you became frightened when thee saw William in the market yesterday?"

My blood ran cold. "Why do you think I was frightened, Rachel?"

Rachel pursed her lips. "Did he not escort thee here from Yorktown?" she asked, cocking her head to one side. "Why a woman was there, I do not know..."

"My ship got turned around," I said quickly, knowing that I would have to come up with a decent excuse. "Strong winds pulled us south. We were meant to arrive in Philadelphia, but the tide turned against us, forcing us to travel further than expected."

Rachel's eyes widened at that. "Dear me," she said, leading me out of the entryway and into the small parlor, where she had already set out the tea things. "That must have been quite frightening for thee. Had thee been on ships in the past?"

"No," I answered, feeling terrible at lying to Rachel, but also knowing that I had to keep my story under wraps, whatever the cost. "I spent my childhood in Scotland, and would always travel by land. Simpler that way," I added softly, watching as Rachel poured our cups of tea into the pretty tea set, which I was sure belonged to Claire.

Rachel nodded her head, considering it as she added milk and sugar to our tea. "Ian and Jamie have told me much about Scotland, and Lallybroch," she said quietly, and I held my tongue, knowing entirely well that I couldn't tell her that I'd literally been raised there. "Thee must know a thing or two about it."

I nodded. "Yes, Alexandra and John have spoken to me about it," I said softly. "I believe that my mother, Beatrice, knew some people who lived there, once upon a time. Everyone must have a connection to someone, at the end of the day."

Rachel looked up at me and smiled. "Yes, I believe that's true," she said softly. She hesitated for a moment. "William and I had a row some time ago," she admitted after a few moments.

I raised my eyebrows; I certainly hadn't been made aware of this. "A row?" I asked, slowly lifting my cup of tea. "What happened?"

Rachel sighed. "Denny and I met Ian when he brought William to us, before any of us knew that they were family," she said softly. "William had been wounded, and Ian was on his way to meet Claire and Jamie. William stayed with us, and Denny ensured that he was well again, before he returned to the British Army. Ian and I saw more of one another, after Denny joined the army as a surgeon, alongside Claire, while I was his assistant." Rachel smiled. "Ian asked if I would look after Rollo while he was in Scotland."

I blinked. "Rollo?"

"Oh, his dog," she said. "More wolf than dog... Rollo left us soon after Alexandra left for England when she believed John was dead," she continued, and I felt my hands shaking, doing my best to keep ahold of my cup. "Well," she said, straightening in her chair, "when Ian returned from Scotland, he asked me to be his wife, and I accepted. William did not take it well, and he and Ian ended up fighting one another—"

"Fighting one another?" I cried out, much louder than one should react for a casual acquaintance attacking the cousin of her adopted grandparents. "For what reason?"

Rachel looked up at me. "William believed that he and I would be the ones married," she answered with a soft voice. "I broke my rule of being non-violent when he kissed me, and I struck him."

I lowered my cup of tea, something swirling from inside me. "I see."

"Is thee unwell?" Rachel asked, placing a delicate hand on my arm.

My gaze snapped to hers; I could hardly blame Rachel for William's actions, although this nagging, unfamiliar feeling inside me was gnawing at me. "No, of course not," I assured her, plastering a smile on my face, fully aware that I would likely have to get used to wearing that expression over time. "I apologize; my mind has been elsewhere."

Rachel, too set aside her tea. "Perhaps I can help thee," she said, her open and honest face so utterly kind that it made me want to hate her. "What troubles thee?"

"My uncle," I admitted, nibbling on my lower lip. "He and my aunt have decided to throw a ball in preparation for my other uncle and aunt coming to Philadelphia."

Rachel raised her eyebrows. "A ball?" she asked. "But wouldn't that be exciting?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know. I've never been to one."

Rachel considered this for a moment. "Thee informed me that thee was eighteen..."

I nodded. "Yes."

"Thee did not attend balls when thee was still in Scotland?"

I shook my head. "No. I realize that I would have been presented to Queen Charlotte, as my father was British, but it was seen as too soon, as my mother died less than a year before my birthday. Uncle John believes that this ball would serve as a practice for my entry into society next spring. He is keen for me to return to England, perhaps with Uncle Hal and Aunt Minnie, and be presented then."

"Oh, and thee is worried to meet society people," Rachel responded, nodding her head. "I can understand why thee is anxious."

I found myself reaching out and taking her by the hands. "Would you attend?" I asked, and Rachel appeared stunned. "I don't know anyone else who is my age, or close to it, in the area, whom my aunt and uncle believe is suitable. You and Ian would be most welcome, according to them both, but I don't know the ins and outs of being a Quaker, and certainly have no wish to offend you..."

Rachel patted my hand. "I cannot dress formally, nor can I consume alcohol, but I may attend your aunt and uncle's party, Henrietta," she informed me patiently. "Your aunt gave me the most lovely brooch before her wedding to your uncle, which I think would suit." She hesitated for a moment, considering. "Forgive me, but I have always wondered..."

"Yes?" I asked.

"Why is it that thee wears a fichu?" she asked, pitching her voice low, as if she feared my reaction to her question. "I always believed that it was for more modest maidens... Not that thee is not modest!" she said quickly, eyes widening as her cheeks flushed. "What I mean is, thee is Anglican, is thee not?"

I nodded. "Yes, I am Anglican," I confirmed, "although I spent my last few years attending services in the Episcopal Church, as it was the closest alternative to Scotland," I said softly. "I know that my father would have understood."

Rachel blinked, confused. "What is the Episcopal Church?" she asked.

I felt myself cursing inwardly, suddenly remembering in all the lectures from the various bishops in the church that it had been founded in the United States, but not until 1789, precisely eight years from now. I knew I had to put a spin on the story, and quickly— "It was Scotland's response to the Church of England," I said quickly, "as a different option to Catholicism or the Church of Scotland. Very few people practice the faith, however, and they were worried about it not catching on."

"Oh, I see," Rachel said, nodding her head in understanding. "Not many people understand Quakerism, but I do find that some are tolerant of it."

"As for my fichu," I said softly, "let's just say that it hides something that I wish to keep hidden from the world."

Rachel patted my hand. "Well, I shall not ask again, as it seems as if it is something very personal to thee," she said gently.

I, again, plastered a fake smile upon my face. "That is very considerate of you," I told her, but my voice shook.

I remained at Rachel and Ian's home for another two hours, but I politely excused myself when she informed me that she had to begin preparing Ian's supper. I told her to extend the invitation for the ball to him, and she assured me that she would. I was sure to tell her that a formal invitation would likely follow, and she told me that she would look for it.

As I made my return to Chestnut Street, I wasn't altogether surprised when someone quite familiar fell into step with me. "Must you always follow me?"

William sighed. "I hardly see you as it is, Henrietta."

I grimaced, my skin tingling. "I see you every evening and long into the night, which is hardly convenient for me, although I know you don't like sleeping without me."

"Of course I do not," he agreed, "as it is tradition." He hesitated for a moment. "Why do you insist upon wearing the fichu? You need not do so any longer..."

"Oh? Do you wish to inform your father about the cause of the scar that runs along my collar bone?" I tossed back at him rather flippantly. "The style of dress in this day and age is not conducive towards it, you know..."

William sighed, his eyes etched with pain. "I will continue to apologize for that, Henrietta, for as long as you wish me to do."

I kept silent as we continued walking down the street, until I could no longer do so. "Rachel informed me of your reaction to her and Ian's wedding."

William lowered his eyes. "Oh," he said. "That."

"You told me about Jane," I said softly, my voice compassionate; I had a great deal of respect for Jane Pocock, although I was selfishly glad that I was in the place she likely would have been, had she not taken her own life. "Why did you not inform me about Rachel?"

"With Rachel, it was childish infatuation, which resulted in a kiss which I could never take back, although I apologized for it on numerous occasions," William responded gravely. "As for Jane, I loved her, and assured that her younger sister was taken care of, in the event that Jane was no longer in a position to do so."

I lowered my eyes to the sidewalk, the guilt eating away at me. "It also covers this," I admitted after a few moments, lifting out the plain silver chain, which had a golden band hanging from it, which glinted in the setting sun. "How would I explain a golden band to either Alexandra or John, when everyone knows what it means?"

"You could ask them to cancel that bloody ball," William said, heat in his tone, "as it is a foolish expense and completely unnecessary."

"Not that I have already made a worthy match?" I asked him candidly, tucking the chain and the ring back underneath my fichu.

William sighed. "I am hardly a worthy match," he said softly, as we neared Chestnut Street.

I bit my lip at the self-deprecation in his voice, wondering if there was a double meaning within his tone. "Perhaps since you married me for the same reason why John married Alexandra, although I was not with child during the nuptials... Well," I said, straightening up, once we reached the corner just before the Grey residence, "and the notion that you had already given your heart away..." I turned and regarded William Clarence Henry George Ransom, the ninth Earl of Ellesmere, Viscount Ashness, Master of Helwater, and Baron Derwent. "Good night to you, then, husband. Until, at least, I can get away from number seventeen and join you for our required evening together."

William nodded, although the movement was stiff. "Lottie shall have everything prepared for us at our lodgings," he answered.

I nodded, curtsying to him. "Until later, husband."

William bowed back to me, his eyes still upon me as I walked away from him. "Until later, wife," he said softly, almost as if I wasn't meant to hear him.