It was early in the evening when Ben knocked on the door of his sister-in-law and nephew. His coughing fits had subsided for the moment, but he still had palpitations and the occasional dizzy spells. Nevertheless, he had gone to see them right after tea. Elijah be damned with his advice to take it easy. Every night Lory was in that place another man, probably more than one man, defiled her. Every night there was a chance that one of them would be as mad as the former owner of that place and seriously injured her or even ended her life. He wouldn't wait even if it killed him. If Lory didn't listen to him, he hoped she would at least listen to her brother.

Every evening, Luke asked himself why in the good Lord’s name he made himself go out and work the docks. On top of everything else, why did he subject himself to the additional torture that was loading and unloading ships, rather than coming home to rest up, in the time he didn’t spend on the water?

Then every evening he came home and saw his mom, and his sisters, and he told himself to suck it up and just make it through another day. The less time he spent at home, the more money he could bring back to it. Just one more day – only, it didn’t bring much comfort when he said it every day.

Luke was in the midst of attempting to fix a hole in his shoe when a knock interrupted him. Within a few seconds, he’d picked himself up to go and open it.

“Uncle Ben?” he furrowed his brow, but quickly pushed the door open wider.

“How are ye? Did ye wanna come in?”

"Hey Luke, no thank ye. T' 'arbour master wants me to move t' coble, and t' lads are off playin' somewhere. I was wondering whether ye could land me a hand."

Big lie. But he did not want to speak to Luke where poor Mary could overhear. He preferred it if this problem could be solved between the two of them and Mary never needed to know. The poor woman worried so much that Ben feared this latest piece of news might just put her in the grave.

"Sorry for disturbing ye so late, but I don't want to get fined..."

More work. Of course, it was always more work.

Luke scratched idly at the back of his head, threw a glance back into the cottage, and then gave a nod.

“Aye, I can help.”

Balancing himself against the doorframe, he pulled on his (yet unfixed) shoe. Much as he didn’t want to go out again, he didn’t want Uncle Ben getting fined by the damned harbor master either. Luke stepped out, shouted for his mother’s sake that he’d be back soon, and once he’d pulled the door shut, gestured for his uncle to lead on.

When they had turned the corner and were far away enough from the cottage not to be overheard, Ben stopped and turned. He rested his back against a wall. "'T wasn't that, son, but I didn't want yer mam to overhear us and worry more than she already does. How's Lory? Have ye received any letters from 'er lately?"

A frown twisted Luke’s mouth, well-worn. What was he asking about Lory for, that he didn’t want their mother to know about?

“Why’d ye ask?” he questioned, opting not to answer. He didn’t know how Lory was. Same as she always was, right? Surely she'd have said something if things were any different.

But he hadn’t heard from her, not personally. “Y’ seen her?”

Ben sighed. His hand fumbled in the pocket of his jacket, but then he decided that having a smoke while discussing how Lory degraded herself was probably not appropriate. "Aye, I 'ave. And she's not where she said she'd gone. Now don't go stormin' off to get 'er just like that. Elijah's bein' a pain about it. But she's workin' in t' Diamond Pony."

That was a terrible joke. Luke threw his uncle an unamused, please-be-serious look before he realized that he was, unfortunately, being serious.

“She wouldn’t,” she would. It made all too much sense, as much of a shock to his system as it was to hear such a thing. Lory had always been difficult, as far as Luke was concerned, and of course she’d say she was in York and sell herself off at the Diamond Pony instead.

That mental image was burned into his brain now. He felt sick to his stomach.

Luke fell back against the wall like all the air had been knocked out of him. Why, Lory, why? He didn’t even know how to react, except to accept that it was truth and move on. Otherwise he would storm right over there.

“’Course Elijah’s bein’ difficult,” he grumbled, “he’s soft. What’s he expect? T’ men down there to be just as soft on her? She’s lucky she ‘asn’t been killed!”

No! Luke knew plenty of men that frequented the Pony and he didn’t trust a single one of them, especially not with his sister. “How’d ye find out?”

Ben watched his nephew take in the news. Poor Luke. There had been so much responsibility on his shoulder ever since Paul died. He had worried about the kid sometimes when he had been younger. But he had stepped up and faced his duties wonderfully, unlike his wayward sister.

"Old Dan Willis thought he'd seen 'er comin' out of that place," he said grimly. "So I... I went over. She was, well, all dressed up and painted as ye can imagine. Drinkin' too." The horror. "Talkin' to the men all familiar." He shook his head and took out his pipe after all. He really needed that smoke.

Old Dan Willis. Uncle Ben. Who knew how many people knew about his sister’s exploits? If they could figure it out, so could others, and then… then she’d have no hope for anything else. No respectable man would marry her. No God-fearing ladies would befriend her.

Luke held his open palm to his forehead; a great weight that he struggled not to buckle under.

Lory could have come to him. If help was what she needed, she could have just told him. Did she need the money that bad? Did she think that they needed money that bad, that she had to sell herself just to get it? He could have picked up a few more jobs, there were always men that needed help – but would she have listened?

“I’m sorry ye had t’ find out that way,” said Luke, “if I’d known, I’d’ve…”

But his voice trailed off into nothing, and he shook his head. He would have kept Ben from ever finding out, that’s what he’d have done. Angry as he was at her, he’d have kept it secret, if he’d known.

"I'll take care of it," he assured, straightening his back.