I tied a mask carefully around my face and left the City through Ludgate as the sun rose and the air turned to gold. I looked intently at the world around me, to chase away the images that cluttered my mind. Soon all would be muffled in morning smoke but for that brief, clear moment the city was beautiful. Perhaps all would be well? Frankie would marry the man she loved and enjoy a long and happy life with many children, and I would live under their protection until, perhaps, I could consider marriage myself. Mr. Palmer was not indifferent to me. In fact, it was clear that he admired me by the way he looked in my direction even when far greater persons were present. I smiled and the muscles behind my ears ached from underuse. As I passed my old home on Fetter Lane, I decided to visit Thomas on my return. A mother can forgive anything in her child and too many people in my life were fleeing from me.

The watch at Temple Bar let me into the Strand. Here the stone and brick mansions of Frankie’s relatives were jostled by wooden slums. As I walked by the Love’s Nest a girl, no more than ten years old, glared at me from under her red wig. I pulled up my hood, the brief moment of hope erased by the sight of that pitted face, the still-unformed body eaten from within by disease and misuse until no thickness of paint could disguise the corruption of her young flesh. She would be dead before she was fifteen. Mistress Bowdlery’s daughter was somewhere walking these streets. The speed with which the family had sunk made me feel nauseous. I quickened my pace. I would do anything to protect my girls from whoring.

“Would the Countess of Essex accept six gold sovereigns and a redemption price of fourteen in twelve months?” said Sir Richard Ingram, minutely examining the chain I had brought to him. He had plans to give it to his wife or mistress, I could tell, given the interest he was showing in it.

“The chain is worth far more than the first price and far less than the second,” I replied. Sir Richard’s hanging eyebrows drew together and half obscured his small eyes.

“It is the need of the customer that sets the value,” he said, leaning forward and smiling. I leaned back.

“The Countess of Essex would be greatly surprised to hear that you thought her desperate and had offered such a low price because of it.”

I did not flatter myself that I could better Sir Richard in argument, only that I could remind him of where his interests lay.

“The Countess is lucky in you, at least,” he finally replied. “Eight sovereigns and a redemption price of ten in a twelvemonth. You will not take issue with that?”