Your Thief

Three

The bookshop was open when she arrived, for which she was both pleased and surprised. Clearly Madeleine had followed her instructions and continued to run the shop in her absence. She entered the shop and breathed in the smell of old leather and paper. It reminded her of her father, and so it reminded her of the only home she’d ever had.

A tall, fair headed girl gaped at her from behind the counter, “Alice,” breathed Madeleine, “What are you doing here? I heard the bells – I thought – I thought you might not be back…” she trailed off.

Alice smiled grimly, “I was not successful,” she said, and approached the counter. “I need…” Goodness, what did she need? “I need a bath, and badly, but I would settle for a quick wash and some clean clothes. Do you still have my box?”

Madeleine’s eyes widened, “Surely you can’t mean – ”

“I need some money, Madeleine, and I need to stay hidden for some time. I’ve seen him, Maddy, but even worse… he’s seen me.” Alice set her jaw in determination, “I must leave for a long while. I couldn’t save John, but maybe I can save myself. There’s nothing for me here, now.”

Seeing the sadness in her friend’s eyes, Alice reached across the counter, “There’s you, and you’ve been the best friend I could ever have hoped to have, but I’ll endanger us both if I stay.”

Madeleine smiled, “I know. Goodness, you certainly stink! I still have the room upstairs – go, and don’t come back until you smell far better.”

“Like roses,” said Alice, before disappearing to the back of the shop and heading upstairs.

The box was tucked at the foot of Madeleine’s narrow bed, exactly where she had left it. A tall ewer of water beckoned enticingly from the small privy, and Alice wasted no time stripping the dirty prison clothes from her body and scrubbing herself with a small knob of hard soap. After ridding herself of dirt, and brushing the worst of the tangles from her long hair, she knelt at the foot of the bed and opened the chest.

Tucked to one side were her soft leather boots, custom made for her feet alone. A pair of dark hose and a reasonably clean tunic were neatly folded below the boots, and beneath those: the last of her father’s books. She touched them reverently, but had no time to spare. The blond man could have tracked her here already…

With haste, Alice pulled on the hose, bound her breasts with clean strips of linen, and donned the loose fitting tunic. She tightly plaited her hair, and wound the heavy braid into a coil at the base of her neck. She secured it with a dark ribbon, and then mashed a cap onto her head, tucking the small coil inside. Her disguise complete, she pulled on the comfortable leather boots and tucked the packet of lock picks alongside her calf.

Alice gathered up her prison garments and left the shop by means of the back door. She would not take any chances of running into her pursuer again.

After depositing the soiled prison garments in a nearby alley, Alice headed out towards Longbrook Street. As the houses grew larger, she dodged off the street and onto the service road running behind. If she were caught, she would certainly be sent back to prison, but in ten years of burgling, she had been caught only once. And that was because she had wanted to be captured.

It was foolhardy, she knew, to attempt this once more before leaving the city, but she needed the money in order to flee. Alice hugged the side of the lane, avoiding horse deposits and delivery carts. Clothed as she was, she felt all but invisible in the tide of servants, post men and delivery boys rushing about to service the houses.

Espying a house with large ground floor windows, she crept up the lane. The evening post was trundling down the lane and away from the house, and Alice ducked into a cluster of shrubbery. She crept through the bushes and into the small patch of garden. There wasn’t a soul on the terrace or within the garden itself, but she still wanted to avoid being seen from the house.  

Her stomach rumbled unhappily, and she was reminded how it had been since she’d eaten as she picked her way along the side of the large stone manor. Using a thorny bush as leverage – and shredding one pant leg in the process – Alice levered herself up to lie on the sill of one large window. Balancing herself carefully, she edged her head up past the frame to peer through the glass.

The room was spacious, well-furnished and most importantly: unoccupied. A large writing desk was plainly visible from the window, as were several settees and loungers. Wall hangings were draped against the far wall, interspersed with tapestries, to frame a large fireplace and an even larger mantle.

Sliding one slender pick from her soft leather boots, Alice inserted it under the frame and knocked aside the window latch. Alice carefully edged herself into a crouching position as she swung the heavy casement outward, slipping her too-thin body through the opening. The room was hers.

Normally she relished the instant rush of adrenaline at the simple act of burglary. Stealing from the rich and privileged had been a hobby of hers for nigh a decade! She chose to ignore her strict code of conduct for the moment, and left alone the richly illustrated tomes that would have enchanted the small wards of the orphanage she frequented.

She perused the desk with interest. Among the more noticeable pieces – a signet ring, several smoking pipes, an enameled violin – was a gilt letter opener. A sizeable ruby adorned the hilt, and she wasted no time sliding the piece into her boot. She crossed the room to the mantle, where a set of silver candlesticks glinted for her attention. They were heavy, to be sure, but not so noticeable that an unscrupulous pawn shop would hesitate. She scanned them quickly for family markings, but saw nothing to raise suspicions. Alice was just sliding them into a small sack when she heard voices from behind the door.