Theolana

London, 1793

Michael Kelly was not disappointed, after standing in the alley waiting for the girl. He had first seen her two weeks earlier when he stumbled home from a rowdier night of drink, and then again within the next night or two, heading out with mates. If one of them hadn’t commented on her, he might not have given it another thought.

Soon it seemed whenever he passed along that street, she was there; always alone, walking quickly across the way, in the opposite direction. What the respectably dressed young woman was doing out and about at all hours he could only imagine and imagine he did. She never looked up or acknowledged him, or anything for that matter, and he had quickly become intrigued.

She was of middling height, and from what the lone streetlamp told him, not especially a beauty, being somewhat plain but not wholly unattractive. However, her figure was of appealing proportions, her modest cloak and bonnet of noticeable quality. If she was a domestic, she must serve a prominent family, though the nearest district of class would be far removed from this lonely tract.

Kelly had considered following her and one night had even made the attempt. He waited until she rounded a corner to cross the road and hurry after, only to find an empty street. His interest began to verge on annoyance and he finally decided to confront her. If she was foolish enough to tempt fate night after night in such an unsavory warren, she may well be a doxie who would not object to his attention. This idea spiced the evening pleasantly until he caught the familiar clack of her shoes on the stones.

No one around. Perfect.

Kelly stepped out of the alley, deliberate and abrupt, not three strides in front of the girl. She gasped in surprise and looked into his face for the briefest moment before attempting to pass by.

“Evenin' Miss. Didn’t mean ta startle ya.” It was a lie and they both knew it before he blocked her with a quick step to the side. “A bit late to be out on your own, isn’t it?”

“Please, let me pass.” Her voice was soft, timid and not at all coarse like a common short-heeled wench. She was younger than he realized as well, which brought a crooked smile to his worn features. Scarcely thirty himself, Kelly had the look and the wiles of an older and more desperate man.

“Here, now. What’s the hurry, my young blossom? Don’t ya know these streets can be dangerous for a lady at night?”

“Let me be!” She stepped into the street in a second attempt to pass, but a gruff hand clamped on her arm to detain her.

“That’s not very friendly now, is it, pet?”

The young woman winced and pulled against Kelly’s hold, which only tightened with her persistence. He was close enough to study her pale complexion, proving she was of a better class than previously supposed. There wasn’t a single blemish or scar that would mark her as a woman of the streets or even a local resident.

“Yore not from here, are ya?” Kelly’s blood was up with the thought that he might have the pleasure of her favors with no one the wiser. She had less business in these streets than he, and if she was to run into a bit of trouble he figured she must be looking for it. He pulled her closer and leaned his face near enough for the stench of liquor to sting her eyes. “How’s about giving ol’ Mike a kiss, darlin'’?”

She squirmed and turned her face away, sparing her lips but feeling his attempt fall on her neck, sticky and wet. He groaned with brutish pleasure and tugged her into the alley.

“I seen you these last weeks, aye an’ you seen me too, I know. That’s why you been here every night, lookin' for me. Don’t be shy, dove. We know each other, don’t we? Come 'ere, now, I won’t hurt ya.” A knife made its appearance inches from her smooth young face, “Unless I have to.” It didn’t impress Kelly that she had not screamed or kicked or otherwise made a fuss; it only served to confirm his assumption that she wanted his attention as much as he was willing to give it.

He shoved her against the wall and wagged the blade in front of her eyes. Strange eyes, they were, seen by the dim light from the street. There was no fear in them, only a calm observation as if she was reading a book or studying some unfortunate stuffed creature in a museum. It was not curious enough to delay Kelly’s ardor or deter his threat.

“No trouble, mind. Just a little fun.”

He tried again for a kiss, and once more she turned her head away in time see the shadow crawling down the wall. Before her assailant could pull aside her cloak, she pushed him away with surprising strength.

“You truly are disgusting, sir.”

Kelly was surprised by this, though still intent on having his way. He had neither seen the descending shadow nor heard its approach in the form of man. It was for the best; he never felt the blow that laid him out on the alley stones. The young woman eyed her hero skeptically, straightening her clothes and shaking off the memory of Kelly’s advances.

“You might have been a bit more prompt.” She scolded her brother as he stood there, clearly proud of himself with a smug and satisfied grin.

“Oh don’t be cross. I was in awe of your acting and could not look away.”

“Acting.” Alana’s thoughts quickly wandered to the theater. After the final curtain it was always her preferred place to dine. She sighed as Theo knelt over the stunned Mr. Kelly. “Suppose we risk your honor next time?”

“Lana, you should know by now, I have none.” He lifted the fallen man to a sitting position like a rag doll and looked to his sister. “Are you not hungry?”

“Not for drunkard’s blood, thank you. I think I’ll save my appetite for the Strand.”

Theo shrugged, well acquainted with his sister's habits. The Strand would promise a more acceptable menu for both, and after a quick inspection of Mr. Kelly's grimy neck, Theo decided to open a vein in the fellow's arm to serve as a first course.

Alana looked down at the scene, with curious fondness and was lost in a moment's memory of a time when she and Theo had not yet crossed over. Where would they be now, she wondered, with more than fifty years since the change. No doubt she would have been tied to a husband, home, and hearth, much against her will, and Theo might have been packed off to the Colonies and perhaps lost in the recent war. She would rather remember the happier, more wholesome days of childhood, chasing through the garden like savages or racing through the wood without a care in the world. It was a time of innocent affection when nothing mattered to each beyond the other.

"It isn't like we could have run off to the Americas." Theo had picked up her thoughts as he often did. He let Mr. Kelly slump to the ground where he would later wake, confused and weak but no worse for wear. As was their peculiar custom, Theo fished a coin from his waistcoat and flipped it onto the ground beside the fallen man. "I know you miss the old Briers, and the grounds--- and even the staff---" family members being naturally absent from the recollection. "-- but we are as we are and much better besides."

Alana sighed, gave the shortest glance to Kelly and readily took up her brother's offered arm for escort.

"And we could always still visit the Americas." he added.

"Not to worry." Alana quickly assured with a smile. "For tonight I shall settle for the Strand."