Dei Amor (formerly "Deus Relicta")

Chapter 7: "Shall we dance, Miss Lucy?"

The old cookie tin was empty of rose buds, and likewise Lucille's purse was equally barren.

Luckily for her, Matron had saved a few stray coins over the month, and with some persuading, handed them over to her so that more rose buds could be bought.

"Freshly cooked bread for cheap!"

"Rattlesnake fangs to cure old age, buy it while you can!"

The market was a busy place in the early morning, many people congregated in the streets, blocking oncoming carriages and carts with their bustling skirts and woven baskets.

Lucille weaved her way deftly through the throngs of thickly perfumed ladies and men in plaid jackets. She skipped over the puddles remaining from the rain the previous night, purse clutched tightly in her grip.

It had been two days since Aida had come for dinner, and she had yet to encounter him again. He had not been the Tea Shoppe as usual, and it bothered her.

She could still feel the warmth of his hand in hers from the first day they met, could still feel the comfort of when she hugged him and the way his smile lit up the room.

Gods, he's so beautiful-

Her hand drifted momentarily to the gold necklace around her neck, remembering the kindness in his gaze when he'd pressed the chain into her palm.

"Petunias for a pound! Buy them fresh here!"

"Do you have any rosebuds?" Lucille approached the stall, tucking the necklace back into her blouse.

"Ye, plenty miss."

"I'll have enough to fill this tin, please." She handed the young girl the battered old cookie tin and reached for her purse.

"That will be 2 pounds 30 pence, please."

"2 pounds what?" Lucille's face fell, and her brow furrowed.

"2 pounds 30 pence."

"It was 1-pound last time-"

"2 pounds 30 pence or take your business elsewhere." The girl shoved the tin back at her, and turned to the woman hovering behind, ignoring Lucille completely. "Hello, how may I help you?"

Clenching her purse tightly in hand, tin in the other, Lucille stepped away from the stall.

She would simply have to find rosebuds elsewhere.

So, she slipped the purse and tin back into the small satchel that hung from her shoulder and weaved her way through the marketplace, scouring the ground for any lost pennies she might be able to use, but the cobble stones were unearthly clean. The rain had washed away every speck grime, and any revealed coins would have been quickly snatched up by another.

Lucille had no other option than to return to the orphanage.

Begrudgingly, she dragged her feet down the puddle splattered streets, until she stood outside her own front door.

There was a loud commotion coming from the inside, children yelling, tiny feet pattering frantically about, and Matron's voice bellowing over the racket.

"Out of the kitchen! Out! Out! Out!"

As she opened the door, a strong whiff of smoke perforated the air, and she reeled back in shock, coughing.