The Stolen One

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Authors: Suzanne Crowley
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bear us a dozen heirs! Bald!” She snorted and then eyed me again. “But your maid there could do well with learning to arrange your lovely hair better.” My hand flew up to my unruly hair in embarrassment. “A gentle lady you may be, but if I may say, in London well-to-do ladies wear their hair more smartly. A fine caul so as not to cover all yourlovely hair would do. Or perhaps some boxwood combs, or pearls? No hood for you yet, I presume. A hood is for married ladies, you know. A man wants to see what he’s getting before the marriage, I daresay,” and she laughed, a short loud bark. She tapped her husband’s belly again. “Am I right you are in search of a husband?”
    I laughed. “Not a husband, I assure you.” It was something else I sought.
    She watched me for a while with deep interest, her eyes occasionally flitting over to Anna, who had fallen asleep to the rocking of the wagon. “I wonder, though, your bringing such a pretty maid as her.”
    “Why, whatever do you mean?” I drew my arm around Anna protectively.
    “Every woman knows you never have a maid prettier than you, for your man’s eyes might be turned. They simply can’t help themselves, now can they?” And even my mouth dropped open at that.
    “As I said before, I’ve no interest in a husband, just like Queen Elizabeth,” I said, smiling.
    “Oh, but you are not a queen, are you?” Mrs. Grove responded with a thin smile.
    “Bah,” Mrs. Salinas spoke up. “She can always place her love in the Lord, as I have.”
    “I have no interest in that, either,” I said quickly, thinking of Father Bigg’s long, monotonous homilies before Grace stopped taking us to church.
    “It’s a husband you want, my dear,” Mrs. Grove said. “You’ll come to know it soon enough.”
    “Don’t abandon the Lord,” the dark lady said. “For he’s your true husband. Men can’t help but disappoint you. It’s their way, I guess. Even sons.”
    I changed the subject. “Pray tell me, where can I buy the hair pieces you so wisely suggested?”
    The lad spoke up. “The market at Leadenhall, ma’am.”
    “And what would you know?” Mrs. Grove responded. “You filthy little lad. A nice lady like her at Leadenhall. Ha. Why she’d ruin her lovely shoes, she would,” and I pulled my feet farther into the hay at this. “Leadenhall. Full of cows and muck. Fa, hold your tongue.” And just as she finished, one of the little lambs leaned over and nipped her. She screamed at the lad, “Get your filthy beasts to behave!”
    “It’s Cheapside,” the dark-eyed lady spoke. “Cheapside you want. They have beautiful things. I can take you if you wish.” I could hear a hint in her voice of high seas and foreign lands.
    “Fa,” Mrs. Grove said. “As if a lovely lady such as our miss would accompany the like of you. Why, I’ve never heard such a thing. What would you know of fine things, anyway?”
    I suddenly became aware of a terrible odor. The lad whistled while Mrs. Salinas sat forward and peered over the mules, who snorted in anticipation. Anna roused awake next to me. “Whatever is that smell?” I finally asked, being the only one to acknowledge it.
    “Why, it’s London, my dear!” And with that Mrs. Grove finally hit her husband hard enough so that his eyes opened up.

CHAPTER 10
    I t was not the shining glory that I’d long imagined—London, that is—but I assured myself the nicer elements would be found within its walls. We entered the city by way of Southwark with all the other travelers: men whipping their cattle, shepherds with their flocks of sheep, ladies with over-full vegetable baskets, and even well-dressed dandies. I peered at them, studying their elaborate dress, noticing every fold, stitch, and pattern. But it wasn’t long before the odor I’d smelled earlier became even more foul.
    “It’s the river,” Mrs. Grove explained. “The privies, you see.” She discreetly covered her nose with her fan, while Mrs. Salinas just

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