Thanks Vicki, xxxlindazzz, Ravencaller and Lost-Blue-Phantom! Appreciate it all muchly!

Hehe, Vicks, you make me laugh.

xxxlindazzz, glad you love Sanders. Funny thing, I had a completely different person in my head for him but as soon as I started writing this rough guy came out and he wouldn't go away! And he's bloody changed the course of my story. Bloody Sanders.

You're right Ravencaller, that really wasn't the best chapter. I was really quite stressing out as I wanted that whole thing to be one chapter and I wanted it to be finished last night. I think I rushed it too much.

Glad you like the backstory Lost-Blue-Phantom.

Sorry, this isn't the best of chapters nor the longest, but I kind of want to delve into this character...It'll get better next chappity chap, promise.

Thank you all! Man, I ramble a lot before chapters, don't I? Somebody ought to tell me to just shut up and post the damn things...

:)

Chapter Eleven.

Laura was watching as the two men returned from upstairs and seated themselves at a table. The younger one Mr. Hope looked fidgety and nervous and she felt a twinge of pity for him. Obviously he had been found out…What a shame, she hadn't even gotten to tell him she knew and wanted to help somehow. The older man, the stranger, looked at her and gestured for her to come to them. She gave him a look as if to say in a minute you smarmy bugger and turned to drying some dishes.

Yes, she had known. From the start, that evening they had come in from outside rather late, she knew something was not exactly as they seemed. The tavern was raucous and loud as usual that time of night – she had had to stop a number of fights as well as cook for what seemed like almost a whole army of men! Polly, Louise and Rosa, the girls that were hired at nights to serve were bloody useless – flirting with the drunkards when they were supposed to be busy. They didn't know what was good for them. All the time, complaining about wanting a husband – they had low standards, wanting one of those louts that frequented this place!

Laura had barely noticed the two coming in at first, her back turned as she was at the stove slaving away.

"I said excuse me ma'am," came a softly spoken voice.

She turned, wiping her hands on her apron, "Forgive me lad, I can barely hear you – oh lord, Polly for goodness sake! You've got work to do!" she turned back to him, "What can I do for you? Would you like a pint?"

"Oh, no thank you Ma'am –" he began.

But she interrupted him, "Call me Laura, please. I can't be much older than you."

He nodded and continued, "Is there a room available? With two beds?"

She turned to the reservation book, "Let's see, shall we? I'm not sure to be honest, we're very full…" she opened the book and with her finger she found the appropriate date, "Ah…Sorry Sir. There's only a room with one bed…"

The lad turned apprehensively to the young man behind him. Laura had to stop herself from snickering – a young man indeed! From the delicate pretty features of the face it was obvious the figure was a young lady if one looked closely. Why was she wearing borrowed clothing though, with that cap hiding her hair? No matter, Laura thought, it was none of her business. Knowing young couples, he had probably whisked her away from a father who had refused to allow them to marry. It was rather sweet, really…

His voice was low as he murmured to her, "I'll sleep on the floor," and then he turned to Laura, "We'll take that room please, for the next few days."

He said he'd sleep on the floor! He was a gentleman, an amiable quality indeed. With his gentle way he was almost like a character from a storybook. Damn, she had a habit of scribbling down nonsensical ideas in a paper book she kept under her pillow in her small room. She wasn't so silly as to entertain thoughts she'd be a published novelist one day, but sometimes silly little ideas took hold of her and she became restless, as if possessed, until she wrote them down. And this young man unintentionally caused her a bout of restlessness..

The girl seemed a timid thing and moved closer to the young man, looking at her surroundings warily. She must be from privilege, Laura thought, the way she was looking around like a frightened doe. She took hold of the bottom of his coat as if to ease her fear by being close to him, thinking nobody would see that slight gesture. Laura thought she should warn her later, a lad being too close to another did not bode well with this lot..

Laura made him pay for the night and told him they would expect the rest that was due when he signed out at the end of their stay. She then took a lamp and gestured for them to follow as she went up the stairs, down the hall and showed them the room.

"There you are lads," she said handing the young man the key.

The girl sat by the window, saying nothing when the door was unlocked. She looked troubled, fretful even. Laura hoped her father would see things the right way soon. It was always harder for the rich ones, to displease their families.

"I don't normally do this, lad," Laura said to the young man, "But are you two hungry? I'll bring up a dessert, yes? Some pie?" she couldn't imagine the lass lasting very long downstairs with that rowdy lot.

At the mention of pie the girl covered her face, trembling a bit, and the young man thanked her quickly but declined.

He walked her down the hall a little when she departed, and to Laura's surprise he pressed a few coins into her hand, "Laura…It would be most appreciated if…If my friend and I could have some discretion…" he said quietly.

Laura smiled at him and winked, taking his hand and giving him back the coins, "Sometimes, lad…" she said thoughtfully, "The best form of discretion is subtlety."

He stared at her then realised what she meant, "Oh, of course," then he added, nodding at her, "Thank you! Thank you very much!"

It had been the next morning when word had spread like wildfire that the great Judge Turpin had been found murdered in cold blood and that his lovely little ward had disappeared mysteriously that very night, that Laura began to wonder…She felt no sympathy for the death of the old crone, in fact, her patrons found her singing and dancing in the kitchen in a merry mood that day. She hoped he burned in the deepest pit of Hell, alongside companions such as Judas and the Countess Elizabeth Bathory. What he had done to her own family…Laura immediately changed her thoughts, there was no need to dwell on the past. But if that was his poor little ward hiding in one of her rooms, she would do what she could to help. She doubted such innocents could be involved in a callous murder, but she wouldn't half blame them if they had, considering the monster..

"Miss!"

Laura nearly jumped in startlement being forced from her reverie of thought and she spun around, staring face to face with that man with an eyepatch who had been responsible for the trouble that morning.

"I know yeh must be so busy and all, admirin' yehr reflection in the water in the sink there like the pretty Narcissus himself, but I've been waitin' on yeh at the table for ten minutes!" he said deprecatingly.

She raised her chin at him defiantly, her eyes wandering over to Mr. Hope at the table who looked ashen and ill all of a sudden.

"I'll speak plainly with you," Laura turned back to the man, "Why don't you leave him alone? What have you done to him?"

The man looked at her thoughtfully, then said simply, "He's just been told things he needed to know, that's all. Nothin' special. I don' know why he's taken such a turn. But if yeh want to help him, be a dear and pour the sod a drink."

Laura didn't say another word but poured him a mug and went over to the table instead of giving it to the man to take over.

"Mr. Hope?" she said quietly.

He looked up at her, his eyes red-rimmed and swollen and he thanked her politely as he took the mug but placed it in front of him, leaving it untouched.

She wanted to say something – she didn't know what, but he seemed so troubled. The man came up and sat at the table.

"Who are you anyway?" she asked him.

"I'm Mr. Sanders, this boy's lawyer," the man answered crisply.

Laura should have felt immense relief realising the man was not a copper and seemingly was on Mr. Hope's side, but she was still uneasy about it all.

"Funny sort of lawyer," she sniffed, "To attack a client of yours."

"Comes as a free bonus with the service Miss," the man answered sarcastically, "Just like yehr nosiness and effervescent charm comes with yehr cooking skills."

She took no notice of him but looked at the boy as he croaked, his voice hoarse as if it were strained, "Mr. Todd."

Sanders waved at Laura to go away, but she stood there and listened as the boy half whimpered, "Benjamin Barker's story was Mr. Todd's."

"Are yeh sure?" Sanders leaned forward, his hands gripping the table as if he was greatly shocked.

"Quite certain," the boy's hand wavered to his head as he tried to process what he was saying, "Johanna's father…He never told me he had a daughter though…But…But everything else…The judge…The wife…Why didn't he tell me Johanna was his?"

Sanders leaned back in his chair, letting out a heavy sigh, "Well, that is something…We need to tell the coppers. Bleedin' Benjamin Barker had his revenge then…On all of bleedin' London. We need to have the convict records in Australia checked…Bleedin' bloody hell."

"Is this important?"

Sanders and Mr. Hope looked at her blinking, as if they remembered she was there but she rolled her eyes, "I bloody knew Johanna Barker was upstairs since I found out about Turpin's murder. Lord, sometimes men seem to think everybody else is as thick as them!"

There was a pause, and Sanders turned back to Mr. Hope, pushing the mug closer to him, "Drink up lad, yeh'll need this for when this discovery finally hits yeh."

Laura went back to her work after that, and the two men disappeared for quite some time after that discussion. She continued with her work – serving and cooking. There was never any rest for the wicked…So many customers, so many mouths to feed, so many dishes to wash...Wasn't much different from her childhood really. Was life always going to be like this? A series of endless dishes that needed to be washed. To think, she'd had such dreams as a little girl when she was the apple of her father's eye and he told her she could do anything. Even capture the moon in her hands if she'd wanted. The crime of all loving fathers, she thought with a sigh, they made life seem but a dream to their little girls and they grow up believing such nonsense and not being ready for what was really out there. The moon stayed in the sky unable to be caught and endless dishes needed to be washed..

Her mind wandered over the situation that was gripping London. Mr. Hope had a lawyer at least. That was something, wasn't it? Johanna Barker had found her prince in that young man. Laura couldn't help thinking though, that it would not go well for them. It never did for good folk.

She sighed heavily, rinsing a dish, and echoed Mr. Sanders earlier remark in her head. Bleedin' bloody hell.