[Reference to drunkenness and domestic abuse]

Anne Carrington entered the police station, still in her black crepe and silk, but with her normally prefect hair updo somewhat disheveled. She was pale, trembling, and holding a handkerchief against her hand and nose as she made her way to the desk. "Ple-please...." she breathed shakily. "Please help me." She shuddered and began to sob.

Bert was still behind the front desk. His colleague PC Neil should be here instead but had been badgered to death by his tiny herd of children to take them to a Punch and Judy show, so he had begged Bert to switch to keep the peace.  That is why I'll never have kids.. Bert thought to himself.

The new arrival was well to do and obviously in distress.

"Are you alright, Madam?" Bert asked the new arrival, concerned.  Before she could answer, Bert stepped out from behind the counter "Why do ye have a seat and tell me what's happened."

Anne sat down slowly, drawing shaky breaths. She dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief. "M-my husband is drunk again, and I am afraid of him..." she said with a tremor in her voice. "He's threatened to throttle me and break my neck..."

"Right." Bert grabbed a pencil and paper from the desk. Threats of murder, or grievous bodily harm, were serious accusations.

"Can I have your name, Madam?"

"Anne Carrington..." she said in a shaky voice. She wished she could say 'Lady' Anne Carrington, but of course the bastard hadn't been able to give her a title upon marriage. Why had she even married him?

"Carrington." Albert repeated as he scribbled.  Carrington? The same Carringtons that fired Mrs O'Connor? Bert wanted to say there was nothing he could do for her out of spite, but that was not allowed. "Is that with two 'R's?" Bert asked.  A silent nod was the reply.

"When did he say these things?"

"This evening..." said Anne, dabbing her eyes. "I came here because I am afraid to stay in his presence. Oh..." She gasped and sobbed. "He pulled my arm so violently it still hurts. And he was throwing things... I'm so afraid, sir...."

Albert listened to her. It was sad, rich and poor alike had to deal with the same problems, cruelties, and vices. In that moment, she was not the cruel employer who had unfairly dismissed the women he was sweet on, but an upstanding citizen of Whitby in need of help.  Bert tried to put his feelings aside for the job.  

"Do you have any family or acquaintances you can stay with, Mrs Carrington? There may be grounds to question your husband."

"Y-yes, sir..." she said, dabbing her eyes. "Though I'll have to go see a doctor first, this arm is really painful and I cannot lift it properly." She nodded at her other arm.

Anne Carrington might not have been the best employer in town, but she seemed a reasonable woman, prim, dignified, and caring. Albert could feel it. Not at all revolutionary.

"Would you like me to send for a doctor?"