Jolyn Carmichael had one hour to live.

 

She clasped her new cloak at the neck as she trudged down the lanes of Southwark toward her friend's room of alchemy. The morning still held winter's chill, though they'd had several days of warmth and even sun the past couple of weeks. But spring seemed a long way off, as did Bianca's quarters. The air was laden with a consumptive damp. A pain gripped her side, and she stopped to let it pass before walking on.

 

The waves of nausea had grown in number over the past two weeks. At times they were so severe she couldn't stand straight. She had tried to determine the cause. Was it that time of month or the candied figs she ate? It could have been the sherried chestnuts--she wasn't accustomed to the rich food he'd heaped on her. She wiped the end of her nose with a gloved finger and paused to admire her doeskin gloves, another gift.

 

Jolyn smiled at her good fortune. Just over a month ago, she'd left the mudflats to live at Barke House. Her previous life raking mud was a hard one. She had never slept in the same place twice, nor had she known what it was like to eat more than one meal a day.

 

To what did she owe this good fortune? It began with a find. A ring poking up from the muck near Winchester House. Its gold caught the morning light and Jolyn's eye. She could have sold it, but she liked its weight in her hand and the etching on its surface intrigued her. The next day and then every day after, she found something of value to sell at market that could assure her a decent meal. The ring had brought her luck. If necessary, she could sell it, but she was not keen to part with her find.

 

While selling scavenged jewelry near the bear-baiting venue, Jolyn met Mrs. Beldam of Barke House. The old matron fingered the odd pieces, biting them and holding them up to squint at their stones. Finally, she bought a small brooch with a garnet center. As she handed Jolyn the money, her gaze fell to the signet ring hanging around the young woman's neck.

 

"How lovely," she said, her gray eyes growing round. She reached to the piece of jewelry. "Where did you get this?"

 

"I found it," said Jolyn.

 

"How much woulds ye take for it?" asked Beldam, turning it over.

 

"Oh, I will never sell it. It has brought me luck--something money cannot buy."

 

Mrs. Beldam drew back. "Indeed." Her eyes flicked up at Jolyn's, then returned to the ring. "No amount of money?"

 

"No amount of money."

 

Mrs. Beldam dragged her eyes from the necklace and tipped her chin. "Do ye live near?"

 

"In Southwark."

 

"Ye is a scavenger, then?"

 

Jolyn nodded.

 

"Can't be easy, that life," said Mrs. Beldam. "Ye have a place to lay yer head at night?"

 

Sleeping in doorways and under bridges might be disgraceful to those who only knew  soft pallets and pillows, but Jolyn was not embarrassed to admit her circumstance. To Jolyn, not much separated most from a similar fate. "I make do," she said.

 

Mrs. Beldam studied her. She patted her purse distractedly as she thought. Eventually she stirred from her contemplation. "Ye knows, I run a home fer young womens. Barke House," she said. "I takes in girls who needs a help in life. I could use me an errand girl. Ye might keep to yer muckraking if ye so like it. But ye'd have a place to stays."

 

Jolyn perked to hear this. Here was a woman offering a step p in life. she would be cautious though: wary that she could be taken advantage of and end worse off.

 

So, Jolyn visited the home for women and left satisfied that Mrs. Beldam did have a charitable heart. Jolyn moved in. She never regretted her decision and in fact, her life got even better because of it. She cheerfully fetched goods from market and delivered sealed letters to London addresses. Even though her hands grew raw from washing laundry and scrubbing floors, she was content. Compared to muckraking, this was a life of easy meals and shelter from the cold.

 

It didn't matter that Barke House was once a stew with a reputation as questionable as the king's taste in wives. All Jolyn cared about was that Mrs. Beldam had saved her from scraping out a meager existence in the mudflats. And for that kindness, she was eternally grateful.

 

Once the layers of river clay were scrubbed from her skin and hair, Jolyn emerged something of a swan. The coat of grime had preserved her skin and left it pale, so that her blue eyes appeared a startling contrast. Beneath her crespin was a head of daffodil-colored hair.

 

At Barke House she caught the notice of a rich merchant. A man who doted on her. Mrs. Beldam tried to discourage her from seeing him, but Jolyn believed that soon she'd step into an even better life.

 

Another wave of nausea gripped Jolyn, and this time she couldn't control an urge to lose her stomach's contents behind a hedge off Bankside. No one stopped to ask if she needed help. She wiped her mouth discreetly on the inside of her cloak and hurried on. This current dyspepsia was probably caused by her new lifestyle, to which she was still unaccustomed. Like so many other obstacles in her life, Jolyn figured this, too, was only temporary and once she had gotten a remedy from Bianca, she'd be as good as new.

 

What she didn't know, was soon she'd be as good as dead.