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“The Monster of London strikes again – this time a Miss Romine, an unmarried lady of moderate birth, was on her way home from a party when her carriage was stopped. The driver was knocked unconscious, and the maid was sent running for her life. The poor lady was dragged from the carriage, nearly strangled to death, and defiled. In her report to the constable, she claims that she has almost no memory of the event; however, she does recall that her assailant wore the clothes of a gentleman, and his hands were very strong as they wrapped around her neck. She is left with terrible bruises and a ruined reputation. Readers of the female persuasion are advised not to wander in the streets at night, escorted or not, for fear of this monster. Anyone with knowledge of the monster or his whereabouts is asked to come forward to put an end to his reign of terror.”
Lizbeth opened the door, startling Edwina. She jumped in her seat, her hand flying to her chest.
“Oh! I did not mean to scare you!” Lizbeth cried. “I did not know you had come up. Did you need anything?”
“It is all right,” Edwina breathed, looking back to the paper. She had not realized that her hands were trembling. “Did you see this?”
“Is that the paper?” Lizbeth asked, coming to look over Edwina’s shoulder.
“The Monster of London attacked again,” Edwina explained. “Oh, this poor girl. It says that she was nearly strangled to death and defiled. Can you believe it? It sounds so terrible.”
“It is worse than that,” Lizbeth explained, heading to Edwina’s wardrobe. “There have been several attacks these past weeks. It is a wonder that the constables have not caught this man yet. Though I suppose there could be several, but the method is always the same. He strangles them and takes advantage of them.”
“But no one has been killed recently?” Edwina asked, frowning.
“No, but it is still terrible.”
“Of course,” Edwina breathed. “I did not mean it was not still terrible, but I had heard that two women had died from the monster’s attacks. I was hoping at least these ladies survived.”
“Aye, they survived, but their lives are ruined,” Lizbeth said, shaking her head as she folded up some of Edwina’s linens. “Can you imagine being attacked like that then hearing that you will likely never marry because of what some man decided to do to you?”
“It is terrible,” Edwina said sadly, looking down at the paper. “I cannot help but think, though…”
When she trailed off, Lizbeth looked up at her. “Think what?”
Edwina turned to her, rushing to explain. “Well, His Grace goes out at night so often, but he has never mentioned anything like this to me.”
“Why should he?” Lizbeth asked. “His Grace is a strong man, once a soldier. He is likely not to be a victim of this monster.”
“Maybe he had seen something though or heard something about it.”
“What sort of rabbit hole are you digging in your mind?” Lizbeth scolded. “He just likely has not worried about it or paid much attention to the papers.”
“Should he not be worried about me?”
Lizbeth shrugged. “You have not been out much at all, let alone at night. Probably just has not occurred to him.” Edwina frowned, looking back at the paper in her hand. She could not shake an uneasy feeling in her mind.
“He went out again,” she told Lizbeth softly.
“When? Today?”
Edwina nodded sadly. “I told him I wanted us to host a ball, and he got upset with me.” Lizbeth put the linens down and knelt by Edwina’s side. She took her hand gently.
“Couples do fight, Edwina, even those that have known each other a long time. You two will get to know each other with time and understand what is acceptable or not to the other. It will get easier, I assure you.”
“I do hope so,” Edwina mused. “I just hope he is well wherever it is that he goes when he is not home.”
Lizbeth patted her shoulder comfortingly. “I am sure he is.”
