The Sharpest Jewel | Alfie Solomons |

~ Chapter 2 ~

Camden, England 1900

The room was quiet but for the soft ticking of an old clock on the wall and the occasional rustling of papers from the front desk. 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. Her dark hair, 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 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 stepped inside—a woman and a man, both older, but their smiles were gentle, kind. The woman wore a soft lavender cardigan and had short, brown hair that curled around her ears. The man was tall, with a head of dark hair, a pair of wire-framed glasses perched on his nose, and kind eyes that twinkled as he glanced around the room. Florence watched them quietly, not moving, as Sister Evangeline, the head of the orphanage, rose from her desk with her usual warm smile. "Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Warden," Sister Evangeline greeted them warmly. "I'm so glad to see you both."

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. "There she is." Florence's green eyes met hers, and she blinked, unsure of what to do, her small body frozen in place. 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 home with us." Florence's heart thudded in her chest. Home? That word felt big—like something far away, something she had almost forgotten the meaning of. She glanced at Sister Evangeline, who gave her a curt nod.

"Go, Florence," Miss Evangeline encouraged softly. "The Wardens have been waiting a long time to welcome a little one into their home. And they've for some reason have chosen you." Florence looked back at the couple. Mrs. Warden held a pointer glare to the nun she then had her hands outstretched now, open, waiting, not pushing. Florence hesitated for only a second longer before taking a tentative step forward. Her tiny hand slipped into Mrs. Warden's warm palm, and the woman's fingers closed gently around hers. "That's it, sweetheart," Mrs. Warden said, her voice a little shaky, as though she were holding back tears of joy. "You're safe now. We'll take care of you." Mr. Warden rose, holding out his hand to her as well. Florence looked at it, then slowly placed her other hand in his. He gave her a little squeeze, his smile growing wider. "You'll be our little Florence now," he said softly. "You're part of our family." Florence felt something warm rise in her chest—a feeling she hadn't known in a long time, maybe ever. She didn't have the words for it, but she knew it felt good. It felt like the start of something new, something better.