From Rags to Kisses by Shana Galen

I

London 1801

She should have jumped over the body lying in the street. Everyone else was stepping over it, and she was in a hurry. That Charley had spotted her, and he was sure to remember her from last week when she’d managed to escape him after stealing that crust of bread. Jenny didn’t want to be dragged before a magistrate or clapped in the stocks.

Again.

The body was barefoot and dressed in coat and trousers. It lay face down in a mud puddle, the wetness on the ground left over from the rain the night before. If horses and carriages ever passed through this dirty, narrow street in Spitalfields, the body would have been trampled. But no one with enough blunt for a horse and carriage ever ventured to this corner of London. There were no gaming hells or painted women or gin houses here. Just hunger, poverty, and despair.

Jenny slowed and looked over her shoulder. The Charley wasn’t behind her. She might have lost him. Or he might have been too much of a coward to come this way alone. A few rough-looking men leaned against buildings, spoiling for a fight, and a Charley would make a nice target for their foul moods.

A couple walking in front of her stepped over the body as if it were a piece of trash. Nearby, a woman hung once-white sheets on a clothesline while a small child—Jenny couldn’t tell if it was a boy or girl—clung to her ragged skirts. Jenny figured the body’s pockets had already been picked clean, but she was starving. No harm in giving them another once-over. She patted it down then rolled it over.

She jumped back in shock and crossed herself when its eyes fluttered open. It was a boy, and he looked up at her with dark eyes, made darker still by large, black pupils. He gazed at her, unseeing, then closed his eyes again. Her heart slowed enough that she stopped fearing it would burst. He wasn’t dead. She hadn’t disturbed his eternal rest. Jenny glanced over at the woman, still hanging her laundry. She hadn’t seen Jenny, but her child was watching. Jenny told herself the child had nothing to do with why she didn’t walk away. It wasn’t up to her to teach that kid some semblance of humanity, but she couldn’t abandon this boy all together. What if he died and haunted her because she didn’t try to help him?

She stood and wiped her hands on her rough trousers. “Oy,” she said and nudged the boy with the toe of her too-small shoe. “Ye better get up now.”

The boy moaned something and didn’t move.

“Oy!” Jenny said louder. “Yer lying in the street. Get up.”

When he still didn’t move, she swore then got an arm around his shoulders, his wet shoulders, and dragged him to the side of the street. She propped him up against a wall and sat down beside him. It annoyed her that her shirt was wet again. She’d been drenched in the downpours the night before. Though it was spring—or so she supposed because green buds had started appearing on the trees again—the morning was still cold enough that she moved closer to him, hoping to steal some of his body heat. Not that he had much of that. He didn’t seem to have much of anything.

A cursory glance at his clothing told her it had once been good quality. It was little more than rags now. He had a black eye, bruises on his jaw, and scraped knuckles. “Looks like ye got into a bit of a tousle,” she said.

He rolled his head to look at her out of his one good eye. “You might say that.”

The way he spoke surprised her. It wasn’t like the people she knew. It sounded like the gentlemen who came to Spitalfields half drunk and stumbled about with their friends looking for cheap gin and whores. They slapped each other on the back for their bravery when everyone could see they carried walking sticks and were followed by burly footmen, keeping anyone with nefarious intentions away.

“ ‘Ave to learn to run faster,” she said. “Me. I can run fast as the wind. Were it the Watch or a group of rogues?”

“I tried to run,” he said, raking a hand through his dark hair. “But two of them were behind me and then two stepped out in front.”

“Oldest trick in the book,” she said. “Two of them ‘erd ye where the others lie in wait.”

He held out a hand. “Aidan Sterling.”

She looked down at his hand.

“You shake it,” he said. “Like this.” He took her hand and pumped it up and down.

“I know wot to do,” she said, pulling her hand back. “I don’t know why ye’d want to do it. I’m Jenny Tate.”

His eyes widened slightly. “Yer a girl?”

“That’s right.” She always felt a little defensive when boys looked at her like that. She was thirteen and skinny and flat as a boy, and she dressed in boys’ clothing to keep anyone from getting ideas—most especially arch rogues who ran the gangs in this part of London. But she still didn’t like when people looked at her like being a girl was a liability. “And I could knock ye down quick as any boy.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he said. “But then that little child over there could knock me down.”

“Ye don’t belong ‘ere,” she said. “Where do ye belong? I’ll make sure ye get ‘ome.” And she might just get a big reward for it too.

“Unfortunately,” he said, “I do belong here. I have nowhere else to go.”

“Yer an orphan?”

“Yes. My mother died...what day is it now?”

Jenny shrugged. She didn’t even know what month it was.

“I suppose it was a month ago now. My father died before that and his lordship hadn’t thought to provide for us.”

His lordship. There was blunt in those words. Jenny knew it. “Who was yer father?” she asked.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” the boy said. Some color had returned to his face, and he looked almost human, except for that swollen eye.

“Try me.”

“The Earl of Cranbourne.”

She laughed. “Yer right. I don’t believe ye.”

“I’m not his legitimate offspring,” he said.

“Wot’s that mean?”

“To be blunt, Jenny—may I call you Jenny?”

She shrugged.

“To be blunt, I’m a bastard. My mother was a chambermaid in the earl’s service. When she bore me, the earl recognized me and gave my mother money for a house and for my schooling, but it seems he made no provision for me in his will.”

“Ye got a lot of fancy words.”

He nodded but didn’t behave as though she were stupid. “It means, once he died, my mother and I received nothing. I’m sure she had a plan. I know she went to the new earl’s chief of staff and his solicitor. But neither of them liked her very much, always thought she was a grasping—well, they wouldn’t help her. Without any money, I couldn’t go to school, we couldn’t pay the rent. My mother became ill, and we couldn’t afford a doctor.”

Jenny knew a hundred stories like this. Half the children on the street had stories of parents who’d become ill and died because there was no blunt for doctors or medicine. The charity hospitals weren’t much better than the street. But not everyone’s story included an earl. Jenny wouldn’t have believed it except the way the boy talked was definitely unusual.

She moved to tell him good-bye and continue her search for something to eat. It wasn’t as though he could help her, and she couldn’t help him. She could take care of herself, and that was it. If she started getting all soft-hearted and trying to save every street rat, she’d be buried under a pile of needy kids in two minutes.

“What about you? Are you an orphan?”

Jenny didn’t move. No one had ever asked about her before. No one had ever cared.

“No,” she said, even though she rarely talked about her family. “I can only wish I were an orphan.” Her parents clung stubbornly to life, despite having every disadvantage.

“That bad, eh?” He scratched his head. Jenny imagined he probably had fleas or worse. “Perhaps we could be friends.”

Jenny would have laughed, except he looked serious. She sat straight. She’d never had a friend before. The idea was intriguing. “Alright then. Wot do I get out of it?”

He gave her a puzzled look. “You’d rather our relationship be transactional? A business partnership?”

“Wot ye just said. Business. I do my part, and ye do yer part.” Jenny didn’t know why she was even suggesting such a thing. She knew enough of people to know that you couldn’t trust them. Someone promised to give you half the loaf of bread they pinched, but then they disappeared with the whole thing. She’d been no older than four when she realized she had to hide any money she earned begging. Her parents would steal it while she slept if she wasn’t careful. At first, she’d hid her half pennies under her pillow, but as she got older and wiser, she found a hiding place outside the dingy room where the two of them—sometimes three if her father remembered to come home—lived. A few years before her father had reached under her pillow while she was asleep, thinking she might still keep her coin there. She’d pulled a knife on him and threatened to slit his throat.

The next day, when she’d been making her way through Spitalfields, he’d ambushed her and beat her bloody.

Jenny no longer slept at home if her father was there.

The boy held out his hand, and Jenny looked at it. There wasn’t any coin in his palm. “You shake it,” he reminded her. “That seals the deal.”

“Wot deal?” Jenny asked.

“We look out for each other. I share what I have, and you share what you have.”

She squinted at him. “Ye don’t ‘ave nothing.”

He tapped his temple. “I have an education.”

“Book learning.” She spat.

“I can teach you to read.”

Jenny looked up at him.

“If you could read, you’d know what all the pamphlets nailed to the posts say. Then you’d know where to go to pick pockets.”

“I’m not a pickpocket.” She looked about to make sure no one was listening. “I’m a ‘ouse breaker.”

“Then you’ll know if what you steal from houses has any real value.”

“ ‘Ow does reading ‘elp with that?”

He gave her a surprised look. “Books are everything. They have all the information in the world. Let’s say you steal an old coin. How do you know if it’s a hundred years old or five hundred years old? You look it up in a book.”

She looked him up and down. “All yer book learning ‘asn’t kept ye from being beaten and ‘aving yer shoes pinched.”

“Then I can learn from you and you from me.” He offered his hand again. “What do you say?”

She put her hand in his, surprised at how warm his flesh was. He moved her hand up and down and smiled. “So,” he said, releasing her hand. “What do we do first?”

“First, we steal something to eat.” She rose and took his hand, pulling him up. As they started for the market and the food stalls, it occurred to her that having a partner might have benefits. When they neared the market, she pulled him aside and pointed to the stalls. “Wot do ye fancy?”

“Bread and soup would be lovely.”

She elbowed him then pulled out her pockets. She always wore trousers. Dresses made it too hard to run fast and climb when a quick escape was necessary. “No blunt for bread and soup. We ‘ave to steal wot we want, and I can’t run off with a bowl of soup.”

The boy, Aidan, nodded thoughtfully. “Why don’t we try and earn our coin?”

She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Ye think I ‘aven’t tried that?” She pointed to his black eye and then to herself. “Who would ‘ire us?”

“Fine. Do we just grab an apple and run?” he asked.

“Only if we want to be chased. I usually wait for a distraction or try to cause one. Then while everyone is looking, I causally pocket a loaf of bread or a couple of onions.”

“I can cause a distraction.”

Jenny gave him a skeptical look. “If ye make a muck of this, we’ll both be ‘ungry tonight.”

“I won’t.”

“If ye do, then ye can forget about our deal.”

His eyes widened with shock. “You would go back on a handshake?”

She wanted to grab his shoulders, shake them, and scream, Look around ye! No one cares about a ‘andshake! But the look of surprise on his face only made her feel more protective of him. “Just make sure ye distract them,” she said.

He gave her a nod, squared those skinny shoulders again, and marched back toward the stalls. Instead of going to the costermongers, he made his way to a pedestal with a statue of some man she didn’t know. He climbed up beside the statue and cleared his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said. A few people glanced at him, but most paid him no heed. Mentally, she prepared herself for another long night with a protesting belly.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Aidan said, this time his voice carrying. He raised a hand and turned to the side dramatically. Jenny would have laughed at this posture if her meal hadn’t depended on it.

“To be, or not to be, that is the question,” he said. A few more heads turned toward him. That seemed to be the encouragement he needed because he continued in a deeper voice. “Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune—”

Jenny slid out of her spot and walked casually toward the costermonger selling fruit. He was watching with some interest, and she’d been eyeing those plums all afternoon.

“Or to take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing end them. To die!” His voice rose with emotion as Jenny neared the wheelbarrow the man had lowered to watch.

“To sleep, no more; and by a sleep to say we end the heart-ache.” He clenched his chest dramatically and Jenny reached out, grasped the fruit, and sidled away. She could still hear him as she continued on her way. She thought about walking on. She thought about leaving him behind and feasting on the two plums herself. But she thought about that shocked look on his face, and how he’d seemed to believe that a handshake meant something. And so when he finally finished his flowery words and bowed to a smattering of applause, she was waiting when he joined her.

“Did you get something?” he asked, holding out a hand.

“Not ‘ere,” she hissed. She motioned for him to follow and led him to a dusty yard behind a tavern. Horses had once been stabled here, but the stable was gone, and no one came out this way except to toss out rubbish. They found a place and sat with their backs up against the back of the tavern. The sound of laughter washed over them as she handed him a plum. He nodded at her as though expecting more. She produced the second plum. “That’s it.”

“That’s it?”

“Eat it and shut yer potato ‘ole.”

He seemed to know enough not to argue. He bit into the plum, and for a time there was silence as they savored the fruit. But it was gone all too quickly. Jenny licked the juice from her fingers. “Wot was that ye were saying up there?” she asked. “Did ye make it up?”

“It was Shakespeare.”

“Shakes a spear?”

He laughed. “No. Shakespeare. He wrote plays. I was quoting one of his more famous ones.”

“I didn’t understand a word ye said.”

He leaned close to her, smelling of dirt, boy, and plum juice. “Can I tell you a secret?”

She lifted one shoulder in a shrug.

“I don’t understand it either.” He laughed, and his laugh was so infectious, she laughed too. And before long they were both laughing so hard tears streamed from their eyes. She leaned her head against his shoulder as she wiped away the tears, and he said, “I like you, Jenny Tate.”

And though she didn’t say it back, she liked Aidan Sterling too.

***

“WELL, WELL, WOT DOwe ‘ave ‘ere?”

Aidan opened his eyes and looked up at a boy. The lad looked to be close to his own age of twelve, maybe a year older. Though Aidan had been running with Jenny for two months now and looked and smelled every day of those two months on the street, this boy was so dirty, Aidan doubted he’d ever seen a bathtub. His face was hard, his skin raw from dirt and the weather, and his clothes hung on his lanky frame like a scarecrow Aidan had seen once when he and his mother had traveled to a fair in Richmond.

Aidan pushed up on one elbow. Behind him, he felt Jenny push up too. She swore under her breath.

“We don’t have any food or blunt,” Aidan said, which was a lie. They had a little of both, but he’d risk injury and death to protect them. He had only three priorities these days—food, blunt, and Jenny. “You’re wasting your time with us.”

“I’ll decide that,” the boy said, his gaze flitting across the dim room. “Gideon!” he called over his shoulder. “I found something.”

“Let me do the talking,” Jenny said as another boy, this one a little older, taller, and better fed, stepped through the doorway. Jenny and Aidan had slept in this room for the past three nights. The building had once been some sort of shop, but it hadn’t had any residents other than rodents for years. There were other signs of occasional habitation, but those didn’t look recent. Aidan had just been happy to find a place to shelter from the frequent spring rainstorms, even if it meant sharing that space with rats.

Jenny always wanted to do the talking, and Aidan had no arguments in this case. She was better at lying than him and better at negotiating with boys like these, who were bent on doing them harm. When it came to negotiating with shopkeepers or businessmen for a quick job or blunt, that was when Aidan stepped in.

The boy called Gideon swept his eyes over them and looked decidedly unimpressed. “They’re just kids.”

“Satin is always looking for more cubs. Ye watch them while I fetch ‘im.”

“Sure,” Gideon said as the other boy hurried out. Gideon crossed his arms and leaned on the doorjamb. Jenny stood up.

“Wot gang are ye from?”

“Covent Garden Cubs.”

“Covent Garden? Wot are ye doing in this part of London?”

“We ‘ave places all over the city in case we need to lie low.”

“Listen,” Aidan said. “We don’t want any trouble. If this is your place, we’ll leave.”

Jenny elbowed him. “ ‘E won’t let us just leave. ‘Is arch rogue is coming. But it’s two against one.” She gave Gideon a menacing look.

Aidan stared at her to make certain she hadn’t gone insane overnight. This Gideon was much bigger than either of them. It had taken weeks for the swelling in Aidan’s face to go down. He didn’t relish another black eye.

“Ye might as well go,” Gideon said. “If ye don’t and Satin wants ye, there’s no getting away.”

“Ye’d risk a beating for us?”

Gideon shrugged. “Spry is the one who’s leading Satin ‘ere. ‘E’ll most likely get the beating. Now get out before I change me mind.”

Jenny grabbed Aidan’s arm and pulled him away. Aidan tried to shake the older lad’s hand to thank him, but he had to call out his thanks instead as Jenny yanked at him harder. Once outside, she released him but walked quickly until they reached the edge of the Spitalfields market. It was crowded with shoppers, and they would not be easy to find among the throngs of people. They ducked behind a cart and crouched down.

The next thing Aidan knew, her hand was around his throat. “What are you doing?” he croaked.

“Did ye think ye could make some extra blunt by selling me?” she asked, squeezing his throat harder.

“What?” Aidan wheezed.

“When did they approach ye? Yesterday when I went to the river or maybe it was a couple of days ago when I went to Mayfair?”

“I’ve never seen any of them before in my life.”

She squeezed harder, and Aidan grasped her hand and pried it away. She was stronger than she looked but then so was he now. “What’s wrong with you?” Aidan gasped, rubbing his throat. “We’re friends. Even if we weren’t, I wouldn’t sell a dog to those thugs.”

“How can I believe ye?” she asked, hands on hips.

“We made a deal,” Aidan said. “We shook on it.”

Jenny spat. “Those are just words.”

“Not to me.” Aidan stared at her. How could she say those were just words? A deal was a deal. “When I say something, I mean it. I thought you did too.”

Gingerly, he sat down behind the cart again. He didn’t know what had happened to her to make her so hard and suspicious. He didn’t think there was anything he could do to help her either. Two months of being by her side almost constantly, working together to survive, hadn’t convinced her. He lived in constant fear that she’d desert him, and he’d be alone again. Without Jenny, he’d starve. And worse than the fear of death was the fact that even though she’d given him no encouragement, he rather liked her. Underneath her hard outer shell, he suspected she was good and kind. He’d told himself not to get attached to anyone. He’d lost his mother, and he didn’t want the pain of losing anyone else. But he’d become fond of Jenny regardless.

So instead of walking away, he gave her yet another chance,

“I can’t make you trust me, but if we’re going to work together, you have to try a little.”

She didn’t speak, but she sat down beside him. “That was too close.”

Apparently, they were pretending she hadn’t just tried to kill him and going on as though everything were normal. Not that Aidan knew what normal was any longer. A quarter of a year ago, he’d been safe and cozy, living with his mother, attending school, eating when he was hungry. They hadn’t had much, but they’d always had enough.

When his father died, they’d had to do what his mother called economize. It meant no more sweets or new shoes, even though his hurt his toes and were too small. She said she would figure something out, and Aidan believed her. He never once doubted.

He hadn’t even been very worried when his mother became sick with fever. She stayed in bed for the day while he went to school. But when he’d come home that afternoon, she’d been barely coherent. And when he fetched the doctor, the man had demanded payment in advance. Aidan hadn’t been able to find more than a few shillings, and the doctor left without a backward look. Aidan had asked the neighbors for help, but they’d never liked him or his mother much. They said she put on airs. And so in the end, his mother had died, and he’d been the only one with her, the only one who cared. He didn’t have the funds for a burial, so the city had taken her away. And then the rent had come due, and he’d been out on the street.

He’d considered going to his father’s family, but they had refused to help his mother. Why would they care about him? He pushed thoughts of his mother away. It still hurt to think of her, and he’d cried enough tears to fill the Thames. He tried to cry late at night, when Jenny was asleep, but sometimes she reached over and held his hand, so he knew she heard him.

But they didn’t talk about it. Just like they weren’t going to talk about how she’d just tried to strangle him.

“Who were those boys?” he asked now.

“Part of a gang. The arch rogue is the leader. They steal for ‘im. In return, ‘e gives them safety. ‘E also beats them regularly and sells the girls as whores. Last thing I want is to be part of a gang.”

She’d talked about gangs before and taught Aidan to avoid them whenever possible. Once they’d hidden in a cellar for two hours to wait for a gang to move on. Aidan asked the question he’d wanted to ask then. “Why don’t the children go to the magistrate and report the arch rogue? It’s not legal to sell people or force them to steal.”

She gave him a look he was beginning to recognize. It was her are-you-completely-daft look. “Wot does the magistrate care? No one cares wot ‘appens to a child around ‘ere.”

Aidan was beginning to learn that.

“And them magistrates don’t want to deal with the arch rogues. Everyone stays out of their way.”

Aidan closed his eyes. Surviving was exhausting most of the time. “We’ll have to find another place to sleep.”

“Another month or so and we can sleep outside.”

“We also need something to eat.” His stomach was always reminding him of that fact.

“Wot we really need,” she said, looking about, “is blunt.”

Aidan straightened at what was, perhaps, his favorite word. She was right, of course. They did need coin. But he’d tried many times over the past couple of months to secure some form of employment, and at best he was ignored and at worst he was kicked or otherwise assaulted. “We’ve tried that.”

“It’s time I taught ye a new skill,” she said. “ ‘Ousebreaking.”

“I don’t like stealing.”

“ ‘Ow do ye like starving to death?”

Aidan had to admit, he liked that even less.

Jenny led him halfway around London until they stopped in a park across from several enormous houses. “Why are we in Mayfair?” he asked. His father had lived in this part of London. He didn’t know where precisely that house was, but his mother had pointed it out to him when he’d been younger. He scrutinized these houses, but none looked like the Earl of Cranbourne’s.

She stopped under a tree whose branches were heavy with green leaves and pulled him into the shade with her. “Before I met ye, I’d been watching this ‘ouse. The people who live ‘ere are so rich they ‘ave another ‘ouse in the country. Right now they’re still away and only a ‘andful of servants are ‘ere to keep this ‘ouse. And ye know wot that means.”

Aidan tried to think what it could mean.

“When the master is away, the servants play.”

“I think it’s when the cat is away, the mice—”

“I don’t care. When they’re out or asleep tonight, I’ll break in and take a few silver candlesticks or plates to sell. They won’t even know it’s gone.”

“What do I do?” Aidan said.

“Ye keep watch. Make sure no one sees me go in or out. Ye think ye can do that?”

“Yes, but what if they catch you inside?” Fear roiled in his belly. This was why he hadn’t wanted to become attached to Jenny. He could so easily lose her. He tried to tell himself it was just because he’d probably be dead without her. He reminded himself that most of the time she acted as though she could hardly stand him. But it was hard not to like her anyway. She was clever and resourceful and almost always shared with him.

“I can take care of myself,” she said, and Aidan believed it.

They went to the river to watch the ships pass while they waited for dark. “I don’t like you taking such a big risk,” Aidan said, dangling his legs over the bridge.

“I’ve done it a ‘undred times,” she said. “Ye do yer part, and we’ll be fine. The Watch will be out, and if they walk by when I’m going in or out, ye ‘ave to distract them. I’m trusting ye to do yer part.” She gave him a long look.

Aidan wanted to ask who had betrayed her and made her so suspicious, but he knew he wouldn’t get an answer. “Who taught you to break into houses?”

“My father. ‘E didn’t teach me so much as take me with ‘im. I could squeeze through small windows and little openings then go to the front door and let ‘im in. ‘E’s a big man and not so steady on ‘is feet when ‘e drinks. And ‘e always drinks.”

She’d mentioned her parents only once or twice before. “Where is your father now?”

“Who cares?” she said with a shrug. “Probably passed out on the floor of a gin ‘ouse. I stopped working with ‘im when I was six or seven after ‘e—”

Aidan waited, but she didn’t finish. “After he?”

“A woman came upon us one night when we were pilfering. My father wasn’t being very quiet, and the noise probably woke ‘er. I wanted to run, but my father, ‘e seemed to like being caught. ‘E took a candlestick and beat ‘er until it seemed like the whole room was spattered in red. ‘E said ‘e ‘ad to kill ‘er or she’d tell the magistrate. But it were dark, and she wouldn’t ‘ave recognized us.”

Aidan stared at her. “Then why did he kill her? Why did he do it?”

She looked at him, her eyes gray and hard, but her face was almost beautiful. He could see that with a bit more food and a bath, she’d be striking. “Because ‘e likes to ‘urt and ‘e likes to kill. I stay away from ‘im,” she said.

“Then we’ll both keep away from him, and I’ll watch your back.”

She gave him a look laced with doubt, but he knew he’d prove himself in time. His life was tied to Jenny’s now. He’d protect her with his life.