January 1st, 1893 — Wellingtonshire
Beckett Longbottom

The pounding in her head was the first thing Melody noticed as she began to rouse. It was as though someone had taken a hammer to her skull and the light streaming in through the open curtains did little to help her. Then as she went to rub her eyes, she recognized the weight of an arm resting on her stomach. Had Ben and she finally crossed back into the realm of physical intimacy? No, she hadn't been able to find him-

She jumped out of bed as if the man — Mr. Longbottom, she remembered that now — was some sort of predator ready to attack her, shouting in alarm on the way and pulling the blanket with her. He wasn't her husband and she had never entertained the idea of an affair before. (Well, not in practice anyway. Back when they had nearly parted ways it seemed an inevitability. Or was that on Ben's side only? Her head hurt too much to figure it out.)

Her dress was carelessly discarded in a heap across the room, but Melody didn't dare head towards it while Mr. Longbottom was still in the room. What if he attacked her? Had he drugged her?! They were at a party drinking some ridiculously sweet drink, but his hand had reached for her glass first. Surely, he was more of a gentleman than this?! Surely, Mr. Longbottom didn't feel the need to resort to drugging married mothers in order to entice someone into bed?

Reaching for the nearest object — a frame — she held it as if poised to throw and asked in her most accusing tone, "what happened? How did we get here?!"

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