Flora
"Well?" James asks expectantly as we leave the dealer's shop and walk back to Oakley Street. I have the sudden urge to swat at him like a fly.
"It felt like I walked into a trap," I reply tersely. "Wentworth's been yapping around town about the stolen necklace.
"And I'd say the same has happened with the Fitzroy necklace because so many people were present that night. I should have waited a month to make these deals. It's just—"
"We didn't have time," he finishes for me. "Flo, don't blame yourself. Did you get enough to cover rent?"
I shake my head. "Just enough for a month, if I count dinners. We need Blackwell to get us something to eat. No one's gonna feed a family of sneak thieves at his rates."
An unfair truth. Blackwell treats us like we are scum of the earth, but we know we'd have it a lot worse in another place.
London is no cheap city to live in, worse when it comes to people who constantly run from the law.
"We also need to call Dr. Honeywell and ask him to take a look at Kate," James sighs.
His mentioning Kate quietens the fire in my heart. "Do you think there's hope?"
"It's difficult to say, Flo," he replies, his voice tinged with empathy. "I don't understand pernicious anemia or how it works, but I know she's a little fighter. Maybe after Honeywell looks at her, he'll be able to give you some closure."
I doubt it. I doubt he will say anything that can make me feel better. But I have to hope, even if it defies reason.
Because without Kate, without her telling me that I'm going to get my fairy tale someday, without her love and warmth—I am nothing.
The worn wooden floor creaks beneath my tired feet as I step into The Ragged Sparrow.
On the top floor where we live, fifty odd little thieves huddle in the smallest of spaces, the scent of stale air and the sight of frayed edges signify home.
I glance around at the tired faces of my brothers and sisters, their eyes reflecting the hardships we endure day after day.
"Billy," I pass out orders. "I have enough for dinner. Go down to the kitchen and get enough soup for all of us. How's Kate?"
"She's resting," Billy says, his cheeks ruddy red, the threadbare clothes on his bearing doing nothing to offer a semblance of protection from the biting cold. "Not too good, though."
"Okay. Just get dinner, and then go find Honeywell for me, okay? Tell him it's urgent." I hand him some cash before I go down and knock on our landlord's door. He opens it in due course, and his upper lip curls up as if he's seen a rat.
"The rent is due, Flora," Mr. Blackwood sneers, his voice dripping with disdain. His beady eyes scan my face, as if finding pleasure in my suffering.
"And don't think I haven't noticed the state of that blasted toilet. You'll pay for the repairs, mark my words."
My heart sinks at his words, the weight of his demands pressing heavily upon my shoulders.
Mr. Blackwood is no ordinary landlord; he is a shrewd businessman with a reputation for squeezing every last penny from his tenants.
His thick moustache twitches as he relishes his position of power over me.
"We barely have enough to put food on the table," I plead, my voice filled with desperation. "Please, Mr. Blackwood, have some mercy. We're doing our best."
Mercy is a foreign concept to him, and his laugh echoes through the hallway like a bitter reminder of my helplessness.
"Your best is never enough, Flora." His eyes glint with greed. "You and your ragtag family are fortunate to have a roof over your heads. Pay up, or face the consequences."
I hand him what I can in an envelope. "There's enough here for a month's rent and food. I promise I'm going to hand in the rest as soon as I can."
I make a mental note to sit with the kids and see how much we've pooled together this month. But they're all small-timers, which means they double as pickpockets or steal odd knick-knacks.
Not everyone has the same penchant for risk.
He counts the money and grunts. "Have the remaining ready in a week, or you'll be out in the streets."
I swallow the lump in my throat, dialing back the urge to poke a hole in his massive belly and make a run for it.
His conniving ways serve as a constant reminder of what it's like to be poor and captive—for that is what we are. The system has jailed us, and I see no bloody respite.
When I go upstairs, Billy is already back. Bowls of hot soup, mostly salt water with some merciful cloves of garlic, scraps of tough meat, and canned vegetables, are being passed around.
It looks like heaven to me.
I wolf my bowl down with a slice of crusty bread. After dinner, we huddle together, and I ask everyone to bring in their earnings.
We count it again and again—there's barely enough to cover a month's rent. If we use it all, we'll have nothing left to pay for Kate's doctor or medicines.
Kate lies beside me, and I brush her hair occasionally, sunk into a worn-out cushion as my found family speaks of the weight of our circumstances. She smiles like a little angel.
"You don't need to worry about me so much, darling Flo," she says, a tad breathlessly. "If god wants me to—"
"God wants nothing," I cut her off, bitterness piercing my heart. "God doesn't get to have you. Not yet."
She knows it is useless arguing with me when I'm in my element, so she simply holds my hand and drifts off into a deep slumber.
The flickering candlelight casts dancing shadows across our weary faces as everyone gathers around me in a circle, the gravity of our situation hanging heavy in the air.
"Flora, we can't keep relying on these heists," Jack says, his voice and gaze full of concern. "The risks are getting higher, and the rewards. . . Well, they're barely enough to sustain us."
"I know, Jack." I am a mix of frustration and determination. "But what other options do we have? We can't just sit here and watch our home crumble around us."
Sara, one of the littlest ones, chimes in, her eyes reflecting her inner terror. "We've heard whispers, Flora. The law is closing in.
"They're hunting for the Night Owl, and the price on your head. . . It's staggering."
A shudder runs through me as I consider the implications.
The punishment for sneak thieves in Regency London is severe—whippings, branding, even being shipped off to the colonies. The thought of being torn away from my family and banished to a distant land fills me with dread.
"We have to be more cautious," Thomas says, his words tinged with urgency. "The streets are crawling with informants, eager to sell us out for a few coins. We can't trust anyone."
"Thomas is right," Emily adds, her gaze darting nervously around the room. "We need to find a way to stay one step ahead, to outsmart our pursuers. But it's becoming increasingly difficult."
Silence settles over us, the weight of our predicament palpable.
Dr. Honeywell's well-known cough sounds from the hallway. I open the door and let him in. He is one of the few men in town I trust.
He has every idea about what we do, but he also knows what propelled us into this life.
"Flora," he says, nodding kindly at me. "Where is she?"
I point to a sleeping Kate. As Honeywell examines her, I watch the two of them with bated breath. He comes to me after a while, dismay on his features.
"I'm afraid the situation is grave," he says with a somber tone. "Pernicious anemia is a challenging condition to manage, and Kate's case is severe.
"She requires specialized care and constant monitoring. An assisted living facility would be the best option to ensure her comfort and safety."
My heart sinks at the expenses involved. The burden of our already strained finances bears down on me, threatening to crush any hope of providing the care Kate needs.
I bite my lip, feeling a wave of helplessness wash over me.
"But. . . but, Doctor," I stammer, my voice laced with desperation. "We cannot afford such a facility. Is there any other option?"
His gaze tells me everything I need to know. I nod without another word and take him downstairs. As I watch him leave, I cannot bring myself to go back up. I need air.
I walk briskly through the bustling streets, my mind preoccupied with worry and an overwhelming realization of how meagre my resources are in comparison to all that I need to do.
Kate's worsening condition weighs heavily on my heart, and the doctor's words echo in my mind.
An assisted living facility, palliative care. . . I need to find a way to afford it, but the Crown's bounty on my head only adds to the mounting challenges.
Lost in my thoughts, I fail to notice the person approaching until we collide with a force that sends us both stumbling.
I look up, my breath catching in my throat as I find myself staring into a pair of oceanic eyes.
"I beg your pardon," the man says, his voice deep and smooth, his features chiseled and refined. "I should have been more careful."
I blink, momentarily speechless, and then my heart skips a beat as recognition dawns upon me. It's him—the Duke of Danbury. Antony Fitzroy.
My pulse quickens, and something foreign courses through my veins.
"No harm done," I manage to stammer, my voice betraying the swirl of emotions within me. "I should watch where I'm going as well."
His gaze lingers on me for a moment. He is handsome. He has an unassuming air about him—something deliciously foreign for someone of his rank.
Anyone else in his place would have caused a ruckus if the likes of me bumped into them.
But instead, here he is, looking at me with those impossibly blue eyes. . .
Before things can become more complicated, I make a swift decision.
"I'm sorry. I must go."
With a quick smile and a muttered apology, I slip away into the bustling crowd, disappearing like a ghost into the night.
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