23 October, 1894 — Dempsey Residence, London

Thomasina still worked rotating shifts at the hospital, which meant it wasn't unusual for her not to be present when he arrived home at the end of the day; a quarter of the time she was working in the evening, and another quarter she was asleep preceding an overnight shift. Occasionally she would have gone to some social event without him, though if she had a choice he knew she'd wait for him and be late rather than go alone (she liked to complain about his having made them late just as much as she hated handling social events without anyone she knew in tow). But when none of those were keeping her away, she was generally around when he arrived home, present in the house somewhere and ready to listen to him offloading Ministry drama and throw in snarky remarks about the more misogynistic men he dealt with on a daily basis. Oz knew her schedule and knew she ought to have been home today, but when he arrived the house had the wrong air. There was a stuffiness to it — this was characteristic of the days Thomasina worked nights, and was sleeping by the time he got off work, and had been shut up in her bedroom for hours. A stillness of the air where no windows had been adjusted, no doors opened or closed, no movements made. It was so immediately obvious to him that he went to his at-home study first and checked the date against the calendar there, to see whether he'd mistaken her schedule. His next thought was that her schedule must have changed and she was taking a night for someone else; not unheard of.

He poured himself a drink, rang for a servant, and asked about dinner arrangements. The housekeeper seemed uncomfortable with the question, though it took him some time to draw out why. Thomasina was apparently not asleep, as he'd assumed; she'd retreated into her room and ordered a hot bath, and had said nothing about her plans for the night since then. She did not ask for dinner in her room, the housekeeper clarified, though it sounded from her tone as though she believed that was in fact was Sina wanted; that she didn't want to emerge for the rest of the day. Oz shrugged the interaction off and told her dinner ought to proceed as planned — whatever mood his wife was in wouldn't last that long. Once she'd heard him come in, he assumed she'd make her way to him and complain about whatever had set her off, and then they could carry on as usual.

But an hour later the butler knocked at the door to tell Oz that dinner was ready but Mrs. Dempsey still had not been sighted out of her room. Oz had been working his way through built-up correspondence and hadn't noticed how quickly the time passed, but this was now veering outside the realm of forgivable moodiness. An intervention was necessary. He dispatched the butler and climbed the stairs, where he paused at her door long enough to be sure he couldn't hear the voices of anyone else inside, but didn't bother to knock. There she was, in her bedroom, alone and still wearing nothing but a bathrobe. "Well, then." He sighed melodramatically. "What's the matter with you, today?"

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