The loud city noises pulled me from my sleep, prompting me to sit up, and rub my eyes, tired. The walls in my tiny, cramped flat, which was basically just a single room, were entirely too thin, and after having been working in a military camp for the last two years, I hadn't really grown accustomed to being back in a city just yet.
Dragging myself from my bed, I fumbled around in the dark to find my matches and a lamp.
If I ever figured how to make fire with my magic, matches wouldn’t be necessary. But figuring fire out would mean having enough free time on my hands to actually practice it, and a private enough place to do so. And considering the entire apartment building I lived in was constructed entirely of wood, it wasn’t exactly safe for me to practice in my own home, lest I find myself unable to control any fire I did wind up making. Not to mention the fact that, if anyone found out about my abilities, it could mean the death penalty, as the powers that were had been known to execute human magicians because we were somehow ‘unnatural’.
My fingers located the matchbox, and I sighed a little, lighting the stove and putting on the kettle for some tea.
I waited for the water to boil, and fried an egg for breakfast. Money was tight, but eggs were cheap enough, thankfully.
Hurrying, I ate, getting dressed at the same time, not wanting to be late again, or my boss would have my head.
Being a maid wasn’t my first choice in career, considering my training and qualifications as a healer and doctor, but jobs could be incredibly hard to come by in Averah, as a woman, and I had to take what I could get.
Pulling off my threadbare coat, I shivered, slipping into the Jenkins’ back door, arriving in the kitchen right on time.
“Need help, Mrs. Wills?” I asked the cook.
“No, lass, but I appreciate it. Go ask Jones for your duties for today, I think there’s quite a list.”
“Alright. Are we still set to be paid today?” I asked, hanging my coat up.
“We should be!”
“Good, because my rent for next month is due today, and I need my wages for this month to cover the rest of my payment.” I grimaced.
“Then make sure that you get Mr. Jenkins to pay you.” Mrs. Wills advised.
“I’ll certainly try.” I sighed, going through the double kitchen doors, through the dining room, and into the main hall, where I knew Jones, the butler, would be. Another maid was there laughing silently as the butler tried and tried to hang the list of allotted duties on the door of the cabinet beneath the stairs.
Frowning at her for not helping, I went and helped the elderly gentleman hang the parchment. “There we are, sir.”
“Jolly-ho, lass!” Jones nodded appreciatively.
“Oh good, I’m scrubbing the floors today.” I sighed wryly, knowing that my knees would never forgive me. I already had a bit of a limp as it was, from an unfortunate accident during my stint as a military healer.
“They’ll need help in the kitchens too, carrying in and out food, if you’ll note.” The butler pointed out, “So you’ll have a break.”
“Well good…but what do they need me doing that for?”
“Because we’re having a seven-course dinner for the lawyer that’s stopping by today, I believe Mr. Jenkins wants his daughter married away to the fellow…” The butler laughed, and then meandered off.
I sighed, shaking my head, and then grabbed the stuff I would need for scrubbing the floors all day.
Starting on the bottom floor, I cringed whenever my employer, Mr. Jenkins, walked by, turning a snobbish nose up at me, as anyone below his rank disgusted him, even though he depended entirely on us to keep his household running. Nobody in his household actually knew anything of running a home, which was kind of sad, actually.
His horrible son, an obscene man on the wrong side of thirty, came sauntering through, and leered unpleasantly at me a couple of times, making me shiver in discomfort. Trying to ignore him, I threw my attention into my work, scrubbing the tiled floors until my knees and hands were raw, and my back ached from the exertion.
By dinnertime, I was dead weary, and ravenous, as I hadn’t eaten since my meager breakfast early that morning. That said, I was more than a little dizzy, and extremely envious of all of the food that I was required to carry out to the dining room, where all the fancy, uppity people were now sitting, waiting to be served and doted on by us, the help.
“Time to serve the soup!” Mrs. Wills informed us. “Everyone grab a tureen!”
Milly, a servant who stood next to me, handed me a large bowl full of a bright red tomato soup that smelled absolutely spectacular, making my stomach rumble loudly. “You’ll do well not to let Mr. Jenkins hear your stomach!”
“Like I can help it!” I sighed, “I can’t afford to pack a lunch, not that I would have the time to eat anything even if I did have food with me!”
“You’ll just have to manage.” Milly shrugged as we walked towards the doors, carefully carrying our tureens.
“Oh thanks.” I replied, feeling sarcastic and so hungry it was distracting.
As I went through the doors, my foot caught on a fold in the rug, and suddenly, the world tilted before I could steady myself. My life flashed before my eyes as I overbalanced, throwing soup all over the dining room floor, and crashed forward, breaking the tureen. Because the soup was scalding hot, it burned my skin wherever it touched.
As I stumbled to my feet, trying not to cry from pain and embarrassment, I noted that the dining room had gone deathly quiet. All the dinner guests, and my employer, were staring at me. Mr. Jenkins was the only one that looked as if he might blow one of his pulsing veins straight out of his forehead.
Milly tried to help me up, but instead, Mr. Jenkins leapt up, his face red with fury, “That’s the last time you’ll break anything in this house!” Unfortunately, my track record with china and ceramics was rather less than ideal…
“S-sir, I-I am so sorry!” I stammered, trying to ignore the fact that I had painful burns on my hands, arms, face, and middle, and was coated in a layer of tomato soup as well.
“You’d better be!” he hauled me up, ordered the other servants to clean up the mess, and then dragged me, by the hair, to the back courtyard.
I struggled, trying to get away, knowing that he meant to beat me. “Please, sir, don’t beat me! I am so sorry that I dropped it, it won’t happen again!” I begged, frightened.
The whip cracked, and I screamed, feeling it bite across my back. “It certainly won’t!” he roared, “Because you’re fired!”
I sobbed weakly, screaming as the whip cracked again and again, tearing into my back. It seemed like an eternity before it was over, and then even longer before I could gather my wits enough to wonder how I was going to get home. But kind hands answered that question for me.
“Oh lass.” Mrs. Wills sighed, “Jones, help me get her home. It’s the least we can do. He’s whipped and fired her.”
I was vaguely aware of being put into a carriage, and whimpering every time we went over a bump. But the ride was mercifully short, and soon I was in my own miserable little flat again, feeling just that, miserable and little.
Mrs. Wills cleaned my ruined back gently. “I know it stings, but it really does look better now that it’s all clean.” She told me.
I highly doubted that, but appreciated her attempt to make me feel better. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Wills.”
“It’s no trouble, dear. Now, will you be able to see to it and make sure it’s mending?”
“I’m a fully qualified healer, if you remember.” I told her, smiling weakly.
“Oh yes, I forget! You’ve passed all those tests to be a doctor…and yet still ended up a maid who got a beating.” The cook sighed, “Life is unfair sometimes, dearie. We have to make the best of it, though. Do get some sleep.”
“I will, thank you.” I winced, rolling over, and propping myself up on my elbows to avoid putting any weight on my injured back.
“Good form, lass.” Mrs. Wills smiled sadly at me. “Good luck, Ms. Watson.”
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“Joan.” I corrected, I hated going by Ms. Watson. “Or Dr. Watson.” I laughed weakly. “But Joan works.”
“Quite right!” the elderly woman nodded. “Now, I must be off. Take care, Joan!”
“You too, Mrs. Wills.” I sighed as she shut the door, wondering what on earth I was going to do now. I certainly hadn’t gotten my wages for that month, and probably wasn’t going to now because after that beating, as I would never show my face around the Jenkins’ house again, just out of principle, because I wasn’t going to beg someone who had beaten me senseless for my money, and going to the woefully inadequate police to get the money I was owed would do nothing, and the Jenkins were high enough in society that the law didn’t often persecute them.
I drifted off into an uneasy sleep.
--
Things had just gotten worse after being whipped and fired. My landlord had come by the next day, wanting my rent. I tried to explain what happened, and why I didn’t have the money to pay my rent, but he was entirely unsympathetic, and told me that I had a week to come up with the money, or move out.
So there I was, a week later, standing on a street, wondering what I was going to do. My back hadn’t completely healed yet, although my magic had been working wonders on it, thankfully. And that was all good, but where was I going to sleep? And what was I going to eat?
There were places of charity and kindness that helped clothe, feed, and house the homeless, in other countries, but Averah was no such place. It was cold and unforgiving. Certainly cold, even in that semi-desert region, as winter quickly approached, something the wind readily reminded me of every time it cut through my threadbare coat.
Shivering, I went into an employment office, hoping that they might be able to find something for me, even just a temporary position.
--
After a full day of looking for a job, and coming up empty time after time, I sat on the sidewalk outside of an unfamiliar part of town, hungry, cold, and tired. And certainly without a place to sleep.
It wouldn’t be the first time I’d had to sleep out on the streets...not that my experience with it comforted me at all.
Taking a deep breath, I steeled myself. I could take care of myself. Maybe I could finally figure out how to make fire, and keep it going with garbage in some alley, if it got too cold. Hopefully it wouldn't come to that, it would be too easy to be seen.
Gods, what was I going to do? How long could I survive as it got colder? What if it came down to that I had to learn how to make fire, or risk freezing? What would I do if I couldn’t figure out how to do it? I’d heard dying from hypothermia wasn’t too bad, as you went numb before you actually died...Maybe there would be an old blanket or coat in a garbage container, or something, and I could use that...not that the idea was appealing, but it was better than nothing.
“Bless my beard! Is that you, little Joan Watson?”
Jumping in surprise, I whirled about, immediately recognizing the voice. Relief filled me. I had found a friend, and thanked the unseen forces around me for what was surely a saving grace. “Mr. Stemford!” I cried, almost moved to tears at seeing my father’s old friend. “How are you, sir?!” It hadn’t occurred to me that he still lived in the city. Not that I knew where he lived to be able to go and ask him for help. He was the only one of my father’s friends I ever really knew.
“Better than you, it seems!” he observed, seeing the state of my coat. “But come now, what is a respectable girl such as yourself doing out all by herself on a cold evening? And in such a thin coat! In your last letter, you said you were still working for the King as a healer!”
“I was, for two years, Mr. Stemford, but I was relieved of duty two months or so ago because I got hurt, and didn’t recuperate to one-hundred percent, even after I was healed. So I moved back here, and have been here ever since.” I shrugged.
“By yourself?”
“You know that my mom and dad passed away about seven years ago now, you were at their funerals.” I told him, sadly.
“Yes, yes, I suppose that’s right.” Mr. Stemford said sadly. “I guess I just thought you might have had some other person to look after you. But no, your parents had no extended family, I forget that.” The elderly chap shook himself, “But what are we doing chatting in this cold? I live just down the street, dear lass, do come with me for dinner! Michelle would love your company!”
“I would very much like that sir. To be honest, I lost my job recently sir, and wasn’t sure where my next meal was going to come from.” I told him, at ease, as he had been like an uncle to me when I was younger.
“Oh that won’t do!” he frowned, starting to lead the way to his home, I limped along beside him. “Maybe we can help you find a job, I might know some people who could use the help of a competent young woman such as yourself!” His eyes wandered to my bag. “But come now, what’s all that?”
My face flushed a little, “Oh, my things…I…I was kicked out of my flat today too because I didn’t have any money to pay for it, after losing my job.”
“Then I’m so glad I came this way tonight! I could have taken a carriage, but I thought the walk in the cold air might help clear my head! You’ll stay with us, my dear Joan! Now do come along!”
“Mr. Stemford, I-I really can’t thank you enough!” Joy and relief filled me, and some tears came to my eyes. I’d never gone to him for help, as it had been some years since I’d seen him, and I didn’t want to ask for handouts, but since he’d found me, I’d take it as a sign that accepting his help was what I needed to do.
“It’s no trouble, your dad would have done the same for my Michelle, if she were in the same situation!” he waved it off, and I fell into step next to him as we began to walk.
“Only until I find a job, and get on my feet sir, not a moment longer than that. I really can’t tell you how much I appreciate this, sir.”
“It’s no bother, really, Joan. You’re all but my niece anyways!” he chortled. “And I’ll have no more of this Mr. Stemford nonsense, you can call me Uncle Mike, like you did when you were little. My Michelle always called your father Uncle as well, so there’s no harm in it!”
“Alright, Uncle Mike.” I smiled.
“So where is your brother these days? You seem to be all alone, but I recall your older brother, Harry, the rascal that always chased my Michelle with all those worms!”
I sighed, “He demanded his inheritance from my parents before they died, and ran off two or three years before I went off to be a healer. We never heard from him again.”
“Oh my dear girl, I am very sorry to hear that.” Mr. Stemford frowned, “It’s a pity to leave such a sweet lass all alone in the world. Harry ought to be ashamed of himself.”
“Yes, he ought to be, oughtn’t he?” I was a bit bitter about the fact that my brother had abandoned our family, and just ran off with his money.
“Indeed! Now, you said you were discharged from the military because of an injury? I thought they didn’t let women anywhere near the fighting!”
“No, you misunderstand.” I laughed. The way I’d been injured was actually completely absurd. “I was in a medical encampment, which was quite far from where any fighting was taking place, so that the men that were lucky enough to have made it there could recuperate away from any fighting. Although I almost wish that I had been on the front lines, tending to the wounded immediately, if only because then any injury that I would have got probably would have been catching a bullet, or something at least less embarrassing than what happened. It wouldn’t have been pleasant, of course, but it would at least have seemed somewhat heroic instead of cringe-worthy and laughable.”
“You’ve only made me more curious, dear! If you weren’t injured by some stray bullet, then pray, what happened?”
Shaking my head, I told him the tale, an amused smile on my face. “Well, you see, I’d been helping a wounded soldier that I’d been tending to for some time by going to the camp’s smithy so that he could sharpen the man’s lucky knife. While I was at the smithy’s, I tripped rather violently over his pet goat, and managed to break my leg. there was an anvil lying close by on a rickety table, you see, and I hit the table as I tripped, and the anvil fell on my leg.”
“Oh that had to have crushed it!” he grimaced.
“I was lucky it didn’t, just a bad break.” I shook my head.
“But is a broken leg enough to get a medical discharge? Once you were healed, you could have probably continued with your duties…”
“When they saw that I had ended up with a limp from my injury, one that I suspect is permanent, they deemed it enough to give me a discharge, but I think that they had a proper male doctor lined up to take my position, otherwise they would have simply let me heal, and kept me on. They weren’t keen to take me, or any woman into the program that allowed me to get my training, except that the powers that be were desperate for more qualified healers, and finally decided that it would be okay to allow women be trained as doctors, if only so that fewer of their men died from preventable causes brought on by a startling lack of properly trained doctors.” I shook my head, feeling frustrated. “It’s hard for a girl to be a doctor, Uncle Mike, people don’t take you seriously. I was the best in my class when I finished my medical training, and yet the person who scored just behind me was a man, and he was the one that was made the head healer of the encampment, and because I was a woman, there was nothing I could do about it. In fact, when I protested, they told me that I was lucky to have been allowed to have a position as a doctor, and not just as a nurse. They even went so far as to suggest that I’d cheated on my exams when I told them that I knew my scores were the highest in my class! It’s infuriating!”
“Life is rarely fair, my dear.” Mr. Stemford patted my shoulder gently. After a few moments of walking in comfortable silence, we stopped outside a very respectable looking house. “Well dear, this is it!”
“Oh, it looks lovely, Uncle Mike!” I smiled at the beautiful, clearly old doors. I forced myself to put my thoughts about how unfairly I had been treated from my mind.
“You should hold off your judgment until you’re inside!” Uncle Mike smiled, going and unlocking the door, his keys jangling happily in the night air, a glad sound to my ears. “But I will say, it is a beautiful little house, not anything particularly special, but it’s home, and full of love. Do come in!” he stepped into the house, and aside, letting me enter.
I walked into the warm light, and smiled in delight, “Thank you so much!”
“Certainly, my dear!” He walked through the hall and into the sitting room, saying, “My Michelle should have dinner on…Michelle!”
“Is there someone with you?” I heard Michelle’s familiar voice ask.
I walked through the hall, and was greeted with a happy squeal, “Joan!” she darted through the sitting room from the dining room, and hugged me, I tried not to wince as my back throbbed, not wanting to let on how I’d been whipped just a week before. “It’s wonderful to see you! How are you doing?”
“Joan is going to stay with us for a little while, Michelle, how does that sound?” Stemford answered before I had to explain my embarrassing situation.
“Oh that’s wonderful!” she laughed, clapping her hands. “Well, come through into the dining room, you two, I can set the table for one more person, there’s plenty for all of us!”
“Let me help!”
“Not a chance, Joan!” Michelle shook her head, “Go on and sit down, let us take care of you!”
“Only for a little while! Once I find a job, I won’t be a bother anymore!”
“Nonsense, you’re no bother!” Uncle Mike assured me.
“If you say so.” I smiled, sitting down at the dining room table as Michelle set a plate and silverware in front of me. “But I’ll only accept that I’m not a bother if you let me help out around here when I can!”
“Alright, alright!” Michelle laughed. “Now, let’s eat!”