Chapter 1
Fat raindrops splatter the carriage windows until I can barely see through them. I had kept the curtains drawn open in the hope that I'd be able to get a fine glimpse of my destination, but it seems that my efforts will be in vain since I can not see a thing outside. Sighing, I keep my gaze to my lap. I'd prefer to read, but my books are securely stowed away in my small trunk with the rest of my meager belongings.
Ever since my father and mother's unfortunate passing I've had precious little money to spare, so my black coat and hat are in dreadful need of replacing and my dark red travel gown is a sorry sight indeed. Even my gloves, which I had once worn to fancy town parties many years ago, have become too small for my hands, and I've had to cut off the fingertips with my Mum's old sewing scissors to get more wear out of them. The only things of value are the ones I am too selfish to sell-my mother's old necklace and decorative hat pin.
The chill is so great that every breath I take can be seen clearly in front of my face, and my hands tremble as I unfold the letter that I'd just received the previous week. It is an invitation from my Aunt Mary Henley, who upon hearing of the loss of both my parents offered me a job working in her sweet shop in London. It's there where I'm headed; leaving my home in the countryside behind for what will hopefully be a more pleasurable existence.
It's about the tenth time I've read this letter in the past hour, so it's almost entirely embedded in my memory. But out of sheer habit, my eyes still skim over the elegant script all the way to the last sentence.
"Lottie, I will be most delighted if you would reside with me here in my shop, since business is going well and I'll need plenty of help. I do not like the idea of my niece living all alone, so you simply must come to my current lodgings at number eighteen Pudding Lane as soon as you possibly can. Do not tell your driver the direct address, for there is no chance at all that he will know where to find it. I have no doubt that you however, are smart enough.
Yours most sincerely,
Mary Henley"
I know not how, but I must report there immediately, lest I lose myself in the strange new city, for I know deep down that my sense of direction is quite poor when in new surroundings. In truth I've never left my little town of Clertsey in my entire life, so all I know of London comes from listening to travelers coming through the inn down the road from my old house.
So far my impression of the place is that one must be wary of it, being full of thieves, beggars, and pickpockets and other such people consumed by greed. I do not see how all city dwellers could be so different from those I knew in Clertsey, but I was assured that it is indeed so. But if there are so many people living in one place, then there must be some sort of chance of there being an honest soul among them.
But now I feel like quite the bundle of nerves as I get nearer to my destination, and I find myself sagging against the back of my seat with my unruly hair shading my face even farther than my hat.
"I'll not be having any trouble," I whisper to myself, closing my eyes and resting my head against the wall of the carriage. "It shan't be too hard to find Aunt Mary at all." I am only trying to comfort myself and I know it. I do not possess a map or a set of directions of any kind, so I can only pray that I run into an honest person to point the way, and I've already been informed that the chance is an unlikely one. It isn't as if I may simple hire a cab, since all the money I saved for my journey must be used to pay for the carriage driver and I could not dally any longer in my home to save more due to the impropriety of it.
But as it is, I know I must grit my teeth and show the proper country pluck that my late father so admired. I'll just have to cross that bridge when I come to it, and I wouldn't do well to fret anymore beforehand. Listening to the sound of raindrops and my breathing, I drift into a quiet world where I reside alone with the anxious beating of my heart.