A beautiful display

Chapter 1

Somewhere in the 1800's, London

At the early age of 5, I became a thief, a robber, a pickpocket if you will.

It was thus rather early in life when I learned that nothing ever came for free. There was always a price attached - unless you simply took whatever it was that you wanted.

Or so I thought. Later in life I learned that even thievery had its own price. I had been banned from a few stores, chased by policemen and I've even landed my bottom in prison a few times. How I've managed to survive, the Lord only knows.

I could still remember the bustling market. People were shoving their way to their respective destinations. I couldn't remember the town ever being that busy before or after that day. I dodged an elbow to my right and nearly cried out when I felt the crushing weight of a lady's pointed shoe. 

I suddenly noticed a basket of fruit within reaching distance. It was filled to the brim with fruit, glistening in the sun. I hadn't eaten in a few days and I could just imagine the juice sliding down the desert that had become my throat. It was then that I saw the old lady attached to the basket. She struggled her way through the busy market, moving ever so slowly through the jostling crowd. 

Yes, I had robbed an old lady. No, I had no conscience. Or perhaps it was because I had found solace in thinking that she would go home alone, suppressing the thought of any grandchildren or a husband who might have found joy in the fruit basket. However slow she was moving, I found myself blinking and she was gone.

I was shorter than most at the market and used my height to my advantage. I wiggled between the legs and jumped over invading feet. A few seconds later, I found myself right behind the old lady.

I looked around to see if anyone would notice what I was about to do...

She limped and it was clear she had trouble walking, nevertheless, she kept moving forward. Though she was older, there was a childlike innocence about her. I, on the other hand was aware of the guilt that slowly crept into my heart for a fleeting second, seeing as stealing had not been a daily occurrence for me. Yet it was but a whisper and the rumble in my belly was shouting harder at me to soothe it...

I lifted my left hand to grab the shiny, red apple peeking over the rim of the weaved basket.  I was just about to grab it - I even had it in my hand, but someone, a rather nasty someone if you asked me, bumped it right out of my grip.

It fell to the ground, rolling a metre or two before it stopped. I knelt to pick it up, but before I could reach it, someone stomped on it with their boot. The apple, once juicy and red, squirted its juice right into my eye...

At the age of twenty, fifteen years later, one might think that I had learnt my lesson from such an event, but no... It seemed like the English life of poverty had once led me down the road of thievery and instead of showing it the boot, I had befriended it, invited it into my home and gave it a seat at my table. And now, it appeared, I was stuck in this way of life.

Today I stood in church. Under the omnipresent eye of God, I stole once more.

I looked upon my latest victim, dear old William, as he slid the ring onto my finger. The gold band shone brightly and I wondered if he could see the glint in my eye...

I looked up into William's expectant gaze. He was waiting for a reaction from me. Did I like the offering? Somewhere I heard that male road runners were known to offer their female partner a dead lizard. Not that I was comparing the ring William had given me to a dead lizard, nor William to a bird. What I intended to say - you know what, I've lost my train of thought as it tends to happen sometimes...

William raised his eyebrow slightly and I realised I hadn't responded to his non-verbal question. 

"I-Its lovely," I stammered. I quickly caught myself and swallowed the lump that was quickly forming in my throat.

What a mistake I had made telling him I liked the ring. William's face suddenly lit up in the brightest of smiles. The men I usually conversed with were either foul-smelling beggars or those that had other intentions than that which was good and proper. What I knew from such matters was enough to send me running.

William was quite the opposite. He smelled of sandalwood - a leathery, earthy, smell. To be quite honest, I wasn't completely opposed to it. His light brown, almost blonde hair wasn't matted to his face with soot and oil. Instead, it seemed soft and curly... When I saw him for the first time, his eyes were gentle, yet firm. They beckoned me to come closer, to dive into its pool and stay for a while.

A lump formed in my throat.

"William," I said softly, lowering my gaze to the ground. I had already realised quite a while ago that I had fallen in love with him, but a real relationship between us would never truly blossom. He was the Marquess of Graham and I... I was just a lowly con woman. If William knew who I truly was, it would wipe the look of adoration off his face. A few months ago I had introduced myself to William as a lady, but in reality I couldn't really afford the numerous dresses, shoes, ribbons nor the servants that I had pretended to own. Somehow I had convinced William to marry me in short notice and now the time was finally here to reveal all. 

"William, I- I can't." 

His face fell. 

It was enough for me to turn and run. I couldn't bear to see his face once I told him the real reason our marriage was doomed from the beginning. Thieves belonged in jail, not in castles and mansions.

And so, I fled, running out of the chapel. The two strangers William and I had found to witness our marriage must have been horrified as the whole scene was unfolding in front of them, but in that moment, I did not care. 

I nearly fell as I tripped on my wedding gown. I felt my cheeks heat up. Had William seen that? I was sure he did. Oh, a horrid thing the gown was; it was all I could find on such short notice. The thing was big and puffy and it reeked of the previous owner whom I was sure had consumed numerous alcoholic beverages and surely thought the dress might be thirsty as well. Either that or the owner had been intoxicated. Although, I rather liked the first explanation.

I felt the lump forming in my throat again. I was sure William could handle himself. He would be disappointed, but after that, I was sure he would recover and move on with his life. My only other option was stealing from another old lady, but that made me feel even worse. Though I felt branded a thief and truly stuck in my occupation, the horrible feeling of guilt that would wash over me after every time that I stole from someone, made me wish that I could quit.

It was quite difficult to find employment in London. The workforce outnumbered the opportunities and had one finally found a job, the chances were that the wage was not enough to survive. Many people had to obtain at least two jobs just for survival.

I came to a stop and breathed heavily when I had finally put quite a distance between me and the church... What a terrible thing I had just done to William.

And now I was off to Mr Robert, probably the richest man I knew. Hopefully the toss of his moneybag would ease my guilt. I could probably sell the dress and even a few hairpieces too. It would most likely afford me another month's rent, but after that, I would have to make another plan and another after that. I really wasn't fond of the idea. The endless chase after money had made me weary.

I wished I could just, for once in my life, stop. 

Slow down...

Take a breath.

And so I did. I took a breath and searched for a place to sit down. There was no one around, so I sat down in the middle of the road, right there in the dust. I wondered if William would come after me? Would he be angry or threaten me with the law? He didn't seem like the sort of man, but one could never be too sure.

I sat for a while longer before getting up to continue the journey back home.

***

Please comment and let me know what your thoughts are. 

Also a small disclaimer - Graham is not real, it has been made up...

Signed, Lady E