The Sharpest Jewel | Alfie Solomons |

- 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟐 -

Camden, England 1900

The room was quiet apart from the soft ticking of the old and slow clock on the wall and the occasional rustling of papers from the front desk. She had been called here two hours ago and been forced to sit still in the silence and wait till she found out what her use was.

Florence sat perched on a small wooden chair in the corner, her legs dangling off the edge, feet not quite touching the floor. She wore a simple yellow dress, faded at the edges but still bright enough to catch the sunlight streaming through the large window. The dress had been left by one the previous girls and it had only just fit her.

Her dark hair and soft curls framing her round face, fell to her shoulders. Her green eyes were wide, curious, and far too knowing for her six years. Her skin gleamed as the sunlight kissed it, making her look like she was wrapped in warmth even though she always felt a chill.

She'd been at the orphanage long enough to know what it meant when visitors came in, their shoes clacking against the cold tile floor. Some children got to go home. Others stayed. Florence was one of the stayers, though she was too young to understand why.

Today, the door creaked open, and Florence looked up from her place, her small fingers gripping the edge of the seat. Two figures had stepped inside—a woman and a man, both older, but their smiles were gentle and kind.

The woman wore a soft lavender cardigan and had short, brown hair that curled around her ears the ends just blunt enough to see it had been freshly done. The man beside who had his arm interlocked with hers stood tall, with a head of dark hair, a pair of wire-framed glasses perched on his nose, and kind blue eyes that twinkled as he glanced around the room in search of a familiar face; only on his behalf.

Florence watched them quietly, not moving, Sister Evangeline, the head of the orphanage, a stern and cruel woman in Florence years of experience. Her eye's were beady even under the large milk bottle glasses she dawned. One could say it was due to age but the women simply was not that old. But Florence knew, she knew it was a festering kismet of the woman cruel soul.

The nun lifted very slowly and purposely from her desk . "Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Warden," Sister Evangeline greeted. "You're here." No warmth, no sweetness just pure annoyance and coldness's

The couple nodded in return, smiling, their eyes darting around the room as if they were looking for something—or someone. And then, as if sensing the weight of her gaze, the woman turned and spotted Florence.

"Oh," Mrs. Warden whispered, placing a hand over her heart. "Oh There she is." Florence's green eyes met hers, and she blinked, unsure of what to do, her small body frozen in place. Had she been really been chosen this time? It wasn't just a temporary moment like so many times before?

Miss Evangeline beckoned her over with a gentle wave of her hand, and after a moment, Florence slid off the chair and padded across the room, her tiny footsteps nearly silent. "This is Florence," Sister Evangeline introduced. "Florence, these are the Wardens. They've come to meet you."

Mrs. Warden knelt down, bringing herself to eye level with the little girl. Her eyes were soft and full of kindness. "Hello, Florence," she said, her voice as warm as a blanket fresh from the dryer. "We've been waiting a long time to meet you."

Florence stood there for a moment, her fingers gripping the sides of her dress nervously. She wasn't used to people speaking so gently to her. Most adults in the orphanage were cruel, always busy, always moving from one thing to the next. This woman was different. She wasn't in a rush.

Mr. Warden crouched down beside his wife, his large, gentle hands resting on his knees. "We're the Wardens," he said with a smile that crinkled his eyes at the corners. "And we were wondering... well, we were hoping... that maybe you'd like to come and live with us in our home." Florence's heart thudded in her chest. Home?