Love, regardless. (For Niceandbrutal and slut_in_white)

[Niceandbrutal]

Arthur Conway Esq. had just graduated from Oxford and was set on a quiet summer's stay with his parents at their mansion in Kensington. His plans of hiking in the natural beauty of Scotland were stopped by his parents, as they had their own plans for their oldest son. Arthur did not yet know it, but his father (Baron Philip Conway) and his mother (Baroness Mathilda Conway) had been scouring the ranks of the nearby noble families in search of available young women of marrying age.

When he'd departed from Oxford, Arthur had made a promise to meet two of his roommates from the university for a weekend of drink and debauchery. Arthur felt a distinct twinge of unease at the prospect of unadulterated partying with the two hellraisers. But he was a man of his word. As he stood in his bedroom and oversaw the packing of his suitcase he stoically told himself that this would be a new experience. For better or worse. His roomates, Edward Talburt Esq. (Eddie amongst friends) and Thomas Harrington (Tom and/or Harry) were known hellraisers and had had to attend their headmaster many a time to explain their conduct. They got off lightly because their parents were noble and rich, of course.

His father had given in to Arthur's request, no, demand that he at least should have this one weekend off to unwind (as he politely called it) before his parents carted him off to God only knew what. They had grudgingly accepted, but his mother had not been pleased.

He was interrupted in his reverie by his brother, Cedric. Cedric was, at 21, three years younger than Arthur and at Cambridge. He was also home for the summer, but he had more in common with Eddie and Tom than he had with Arthur. "Ah, my DARLING older brother! How grand it must be to be allowed to have one whole weekend of fun before Mama and Papa haul you around to marry you off to some pale and unamusing proper lady! Oh, you didn't know? Dear me, I hope it wasn't supposed to be a secret! Please, disregard what I just said and do try to act surprised when they tell you, dear brother."

And with that Cedric left, a wicked grin plastered on his face. It was no secret that he was jealous of Arthur, the first in line to inherit both title and wealth when his parents eventually passed away. He tried to snipe at Arthur any chance he got, and he was getting good at it. His remarks had grown ever more bilious, his faux politeness the icing of a very sour cake.

As the servant carried his suitcase down to the waiting horsedrawn taxi, his father appeared and took him aside. In a low whisper he confided: "I think this weekend will be good for you, Arthur! It will give you a chance to learn about the, ah, ways of the world and maybe partake in a few lessons you couldn't learn at the university." He winked at Arthur in a way that was unfamiliar and also a little unsettling. What was he implying? Arthur fidgeted in his dark suit and looked uncomfortably at his feet for a second before putting on his politest smile and answered "If you say so, papa!" They shook hands and Arthur left for the Savoy, his home for the weekend.

Alone in the cab, Arthur stretched his 5'11" frame and allowed himself to slump a little. What had he got himself into? Eddie's latest letter had hinted at some indecent activities involving wenches that, well, lay down with men as wives did with husbands. For pay. Arthur was innocent in those regards, certainly. But he had a certain idea about what went on after sneaking peeks at books like Fanny Hill. The books were scandalous, to say the least. Eddie and Tom had been all too eager to explain the finer points of the books and Arthur had reacted with outrage and shock. But secretly he was fascinated, even thrilled by some of the scenes described.

Arthur watched London pass by, his blue thoughtful eyes reflected in the carriage's window. Staring back at him was an Oxford scholar and sportsman, on the brink of life and also (so it felt) at the end of it. Marriage!? His parents wanted to marry him off so soon? He knew they were eager to gain prestige through their sons marrying upwards, but this was almost unseemly in its haste. He ran a hand through his straight short black hair and sighed. He'd have this weekend, at least.

The taxi pulled up at the hotel, and Arthur paid the driver and got out, a bellboy carrying his suitcase up to his room. His friends had secured the best rooms available and they teased Arthur for his, by comparison, spartan accomodations. But as Arthur pointed out, the rooms were for sleeping. London lay at their feet, and if the best of their weekend was spent in a hotel room he wondered aloud why they couldn't have stayed at home. Eddie and Tom conceded.

They dined at the hotel's restaurant and then set out to explore London as young men at liberty to do whatever they wanted. They started off at upscale bars and lounges, but Eddie loudly complained that the places they went to lacked a certain je ne sais quoi. Arthur thought they were perfectly nice places to see and be seen in, but Eddie and Tom had other ideas. As the hour grew late they gravitated to the seedier parts of town. Eddie and Tom wanted to find a REAL place for drink and other pleasures, and Arthur finally told them that if they at least could find a place with proper gaslight he'd accompany them inside.

Arthur wasn't aware of it, but his life was soon about to change. As they finally found a pub with gas lamps (The Twisted Cat), they all but crashed through the door with a drunken roar. That is, at least Eddie and Tom were drunk. Arthur was slightly tipsy but he felt at least one of them should be in posession of a fairly sound mind and keen senses. So when Eddie and Tom started ogling an old lush at the bar, Arthur just smiled politely at her when they commented on her beauty and fine character. Arthur saw a woman that had been beautiful once, but whose features had been hardened by a rough life. And her fine character was contingent on their supplying her with drink and flattery.

Eddie leaned over and whispered something in her ear, and the woman looked over at Arthur and smiled a less than flattering smile. Then she stood up and walked towards him with wobbly legs before crashing into his lap and wheezing into his ear: "Your friend tells me you've never been with a woman before, handsome boy like yourself!" Her breath smelled of cheap gin and bad hygiene and her clothes had a rancid odour of clothing not properly washed between uses. Arthur tried to keep his distance as best he could, but the woman wouldn't relent. Her hands got busy around his privates and Arthur rose from his chair, a look of outrage on his face. "Madam! You forget yourself! Unhand my, um, nethers!"

The pub fell silent for a second, then a wave of laughter washed over him as he stood there blushing. Eddie looked at him in disgust. "This woman is wasted on you, you prude! Come on Tom! Let's see if we can't show this fine lady what we're made of! Arthur! You must come and watch. Maybe you'll learn something!"

Arthur declined as his friends staggered and stumbled upstairs with the woman. He waited. And studied the portrait of their queen, Victoria. And waited. The pub eventually started emptying, and Arthur sat almost alone in the common room. The landlord eventually sidled up to Arthur and told him that he was about to close and that he should get his friends and leave.

Arthur went upstairs with the landlord to find Eddie and Tom asleep beside the woman that was in an indecent state of undress. Between her legs was a fleshy gash, glistening with fluids and surrounded by thick black hair. It stank to high heaven. The landlord busied himself with making the woman decent before he tried to wake up the three sleeping beauties. It was to no avail. Eddie and Tom snored loudly. In the end, they hailed a taxi that would bring his drunk compatriots back to their hotel.

That left only the woman. The landlord explained where she lived and Arthur felt obliged to escort her home. He managed to pull her upright, and though she protested vehemently he managed to drag her along the streets. She was a bit unstable though and she fell, cutting her forehead as she did so. Arthur helped her to her feet, but she now looked a proper mess: dirty, drunk, and bleeding. Arthur pulled out his monogrammed handkerchief to wipe away the blood from her forehead before putting it in her pocket. Not that she'd registered that she'd fallen and cut herself. She just kept on muttering about services and prices and asked Arthur for drink repeatedly.

After what seemed an eternity, they arrived at the given address. Not much to look at, but at least it had four walls and a roof. Arthur tried the door, but it was locked. He rattled the doorknob in frustration a few times before deciding that he'd better look for a key in the lady's garments. Distasteful though he thought the task, he couldn't just leave her lying in the street. So he braced himself and started searching her pockets. It was when his hands were deep inside the pockets of her dress it happened.

Arthur registered a creak as the door opened. He turned around and blinked. And blinked again. One of the most beautiful young women he'd ever seen stood before him, and she looked furious. A detached part of Arthur's mind told him he'd better explain himself to her, but he just stood and gawped at the girl. Then she spoke.

 

[slut_in_white]

Margaret Anne Thomas always felt like her name was a mistake, like it belonged to someone else. Someone of rank and beauty. Someone who wasn't the poor daughter of a local prostitute. Perhaps it was a reflection of her mother's wish that she marry into money. Regardless, it meant that she had preferred the name "Maggie" since she was a child.

Night was falling over White Chapel as she hurried home with some of the day-old bread from the bakery. Two drunks catcalled at her from an alley as she passed, making her duck her head and speed her pace. Thankfully, her little shack of a house was only another block or so away. When she slipped inside, she breathed a long sigh of relief. She hated being outside after dark. White Chapel wasn't safe even at the best of times. It became a dangerous prospect for a woman to so much as step out of her front door at night.

Of course, some women made their living by 'going out' at night. Maggie bore no ill will toward them. In fact, as far as she was concerned, it took a certain kind of bravery to risk the harsh treatment of drunk and often brutal men in order to bring home enough money to eat, and often to feed a family. Maggie's mother was such a woman of the night, and while she and Maggie didn't see eye to eye on many things, Maggie always felt a particular gratitude towards her mother for keeping her warm and fed, often at the expense of her own body. Too many times had she come home looking like she'd been more beaten than fucked...

Maggie herself was terrified by the idea of having to resort to prostitution to survive. She had maintained her virginity even to her current age of 20, in hopes of finding a man of means who might notice her and marry her, so that she and her mother would be cared for. Her mother had insisted that she was beautiful enough to draw the attention of any man with eyes and, though Maggie didn't see that beauty herself, she had noticed the eyes of men lingering on her as she walked through the street. She found she rarely enjoyed the attention - it too often accompanied some remark or gesture which made her feel more threatened than beautiful.

Tonight, the townhouse was empty when Maggie returned and she frowned. She always worried for her mother when she was out turning her tricks, afraid that tonight would be the night she got too drunk, or one of her 'clientele' got too rough, and she wouldn't come home. She couldn't imagine what she'd do if she lost her mother - there were few alternatives for a young woman of low status such as herself but to take up her mother's profession in order to simply survive.

She fretted about her mother's whereabouts for most of the evening while she busied herself tidying up and cooking what food they had into the best dinner she could muster. Then she set about sewing up the holes that were beginning to form in some of their clothes while she waited for her mother to come stumbling in, inevitably drunk. She raked her long, pale fingers through her wheat-gold hair while she worked, eventually falling fast asleep in her rocking chair by the fire.

Some hours later, well past midnight, Maggie woke to the sound of the doorknob rattling. She jolted awake, startled by the sound, and half-panicked that someone will less-than-noble intentions was trying to get in. She calmed herself with the thought that it was probably just her mother, forgetting to unlock the door before she came inside. Or maybe she was too drunk to get the lock to work. Maggie sighed deeply and padded in her bare feet across the floor, adjusting her simple linen dress to make sure she wasn't going to give some passerby a glimpse at something that shouldn't be seen, and pulled the door open.

A man, maybe a few years older than Maggie, was standing at the door with her mother, his hands buried in her pockets while her mother cackled something incoherent but unquestionably lewd, if her expression was any indication. The man looked at her with wide eyes, evidently shocked into silence by the fact that he'd be caught. Maggie narrowed her eyes at the man and stepped out around him, tossing on of her arms around her mother's shoulders and pulling the drunken woman away from him.

"Shame on you!" she snapped, shifting herself so that she stood between the man and her mother. She looked him up and down once, her ire only growing further. He was wealthy, far wealthier than probably anyone she'd ever spoken to in her life before. She was vaguely aware that yelling at a nobleman could cause trouble for herself but, at the moment, she didn't particularly care. "If you're in such dire need of money, you could sell that silken shirt off your back. I'm sure you'd get more for it than you'd find rifling through a poor woman's pockets!"

Her mother, meanwhile, had started murmuring something about a headache. Maggie turned her attention momentarily back to her mother and caught sight of the gash on her forehead with a gasp. Her mother stumbled away from Maggie and into the house, leaving Maggie to place her hands on her hips and look up at the man. She was a full head shorter than he was, and waif-thin from both having a small, fine bone structure and from living on the edge of starvation for most of her life. But she was livid, and even if she wasn't intimidating, she had a set of lungs on her that would make certain he would hear about her anger.

"What in the name of God's grace did you do to her? Do you get your jollies by hurting women?! What could you possibly have gained by harming her like that?" She gave an incoherent growl and pressed her hand against his torso, her fingers splayed over his chest. She was struck, oddly and abruptly, by how warm he was, but shook the thought out of her head immediately. She pushed him, making him stumble backward only a step, and then she laughed without mirth. "I can't even tell the police. As if they'd believe someone like me over someone like you," she hissed, glowering at him.

 

[Niceandbrutal]

"Shame on you! If you're in such dire need of money, you could sell that silken shirt off your back. I'm sure you'd get more for it than you'd find rifling through a poor woman's pockets!"

Her words hit him like a whip, and Arthur was stung by the fury in her voice and the implication that he was trying to steal from the poor woman. Her eyes sparkled with anger and Arthur almost took a step backwards to diminish the heat radiating from this lithe and furious young woman. But to do so would mean to relent his grip on the lady of the night he'd escorted to her home, and he didn't want to add to her misery with another cut or scrape.

"Miss! I assure you, you misunderst-" he began. He was interrupted by the woman he held in his arms who'd started to come to and complained about a headache. The young woman looked over to what Arthur now assumed to be her mother and gasped as her eyes landed on the cut on her forehead. As the drunk woman staggered inside, her daughter turned her gaze back on him, the fury now apparently tenfold as she raised her voice.

"What in the name of God's grace did you do to her? Do you get your jollies by hurting women?! What could you possibly have gained by harming her like that?"

And then her small and slender hand was on his chest. A jolt seemed to pass through Arthur as she with a strength that belied her small frame pushed him so hard as to cause him to take a step back for balance. He felt fuzzy and had to shake his head as she said: "I can't even tell the police. As if they'd believe someone like me over someone like you."

The words now cut deep, stinging even more for being unjust accusations of himself. An angry blush crept into Arthur's cheeks as he straightened himself and tried to fix the young woman with his sternest gaze, the one he used on his brother Cedric when he'd overstepped his bounds.

"Now look here miss! I never laid a hand on that woman in an improper way, neither did I cause her to come to harm! She fell as I followed her home. And I did not try to steal from her, I was merely trying to find a key in her pockets so I could safely place her inside her own home. The landlord at "The twisted cat" never told me she lived WITH someone. If he'd had, I'd have knocked. I am not some ruffian accosting and robbing helpless women, miss!"

He'd never felt so angry before in his life. His breath was quickening and his voice had risen steadily. For the first time in his life, Arthur Conway esq. had lost his temper. He checked himself and bowed before the young and painfully beautiful young woman.

"My sincerest apology, miss. My outburst just now was unforgivable"

Arthur looked anxiously at the young woman. He'd seen his mother faint once when his father had raised his voice in anger. She showed no sign of fainting, though. Was that a hint of mirth he saw? Arthur couldn't be sure. As he opened his mouth to compound his apologies, a drunk man staggered by them.

"Oi! Didn't you get enough rutting down at the Twisted Cat? You having a go at her daughter now!? Our Maggie's too good for the likes of YOU, you poncy toff!"

Arthur silently prayed for the earth to open up and swallow him whole. As the drunk stumbled away muttering and cursing, Arthur with a look of despair tried to reason with the young woman whose name apparently was Maggie.

"Now look here miss Maggie. That drunk mistook me for my friends who, I must admit, conducted some, ah, business with the woman I presume to be your mother. But I never-"

Arthur checked himself. "I am afraid my conduct this evening is most ungentlemanlike. I have you at an advantage, miss Maggie. Allow me to introduce myself: My name is Arthur Conway. A pleasure to meet you, I'm sure." He extended his hand.

 

[slut_in_white]

Maggie wasn't particularly surprised that the man yelled back at her in response. She had been quite rude, and she was accustomed to dealing with men who thought that yelling enough made them right. What she wasn't expecting, however, was the apology that came afterwards.

"My sincerest apology, miss. My outburst just now was unforgivable"

She wasn't entirely certain of how to react, but certainly it made her inclined to believe that he really had just been looking for her mother's keys. When he looked up at her again from his bow, she realized quite abruptly that he had a very kind face. He was certainly handsome, as well, but it was the gentleness in his eyes and the concern in his expression - as if he was afraid he had upset her with his outburst - that she found most intriguing. All of the remaining anger she felt drained out of her at once, and she found herself smiling apologetically at him.

"No, I'm the one who should apologize sir, it was wrong of me to assume..."

Her words were cut off by the grating sound of drunken shouting: "Oi! Didn't you get enough rutting down at the Twisted Cat? You having a go at her daughter now!? Our Maggie's too good for the likes of YOU, you poncy toff!"

Maggie glared into the darkness at the man stumbling by and shouting at them. She knew him by face, if not by name, and he was one of the worst offenders for shouting lewd things at her in the street. She doubted his words were actually out of any concern for her. More likely, he was upset that she was sparing this man more words in one meeting than she had ever spared for him in his life.

"And too good for you too, you drunk!" Maggie answered, shaking her head. "Go home and leave me alone!" She was about to apologize again for displaying such crass behaviour - she was certain that young women of breeding never behaved the way she was behaving - but the young man who brought her mother home seemed more concerned about assuring her that he wasn't one of the men who had purchased her mother's services tonight.

"I am afraid my conduct this evening is most ungentlemanlike. I have you at an advantage, miss Maggie. Allow me to introduce myself: My name is Arthur Conway. A pleasure to meet you, I'm sure."

Maggie looked down at his extended hand, hesitating for a moment before accepting it with a shy smile. "The pleasure is mine, sir. Thank you for seeing my mother home safely tonight. I must apologize for making such terrible assumptions about you. And you shouldn't fear offending me if you were one of the men who purchased my mother's... ah, services." Her smile turned a bit sad. "This world would be a better place for women like her if all her johns were men of character like you."

 

[Niceandbrutal]

Just as Arthur was about to raise her slim hand to his lips, she spoke again:

"The pleasure is mine, sir. Thank you for seeing my mother home safely tonight. I must apologize for making such terrible assumptions about you. And you shouldn't fear offending me if you were one of the men who purchased my mother's... ah, services.This world would be a better place for women like her if all her johns were men of character like you."

He lost himself in her smile a little bit, tinged though it was with sadness. She reminded him of something his botany teacher had said: Even the vilest dungheap can produce beautiful and fragrant flowers! How very apt that description seemed of her. She was without comparison the most vibrant and beautiful woman Arthur had ever laid his eyes on, and he felt a blush reestablish itself in his cheeks as his heart lurched and his stomach filled with butterflies and his head grew dizzy. Was he coming down with an illness? No, that couldn't be, he felt much too good for that.

These thoughts and feelings raced through his mind and body in fractions of a second. He felt his facade crack as a genuine smile spread across his lips, a smile born of gratitude for her believing in him and of him... what? Growing fond of her? But that was absurd! They'd only just met, for heaven's sake!

By conjecture he managed to piece together that a 'john' was a paying customer of the ladies of the night. "I thank you for that generous assessment of me, miss Maggie. Meaning no offense to your dear mother, I wouldn't indulge in such activities unless there was-" he paused. He was about to say that he wouldn't lay down with a woman unless he had feelings for her, but he checked himself, blushing furiously. Why on earth was he willing to almost share his deepest most personal secrets with a woman he didn't know?

"Um, what I meant to say is that my reprobate comrades neglected to pay for her services. Let me reimburse you. I insist." Having no idea how much the services of a prostitute cost, Arthur reached inside his pockets and produced a five pound note. Extending his hand toward Maggie, he craned his neck to peek inside her home.

"Are you sure she is fine? That cut looked rather nasty. Should I call for a doctor?"

He was talking a mile a minute, hoping to suppress the strange thoughts and feelings that had suddenly emerged from within. Try as he might though, he couldn't tear away his eyes from her radiant face. His blush deepened and he started to stammer: "I-I mustn't keep y-you, it is rather late and MY GOODNESS MISS MAGGIE, y-you're barefoot! I in-insist you get inside and get w-warm and I apologise most profusely f-for waking you at this ghastly hour! Please, if you should need any help or assistance, call at the Savoy Hotel and ask for me by name!"

There was a pregnant pause, then Arthur understood how his offer could be misconstrued. "What I meant to say is, sh-should your mother need the aid of a physician or if there's anything I..."

He trailed off, lost for words and lost in her captivating beauty. Then he produced his card and handed it to her. "My card," he mumbled by way of explanation. He bowed again and prepared to leave, unwilling to do so but forcing himself to take that first step back. Doing so caused him a pain he'd never felt before. He wanted to stay to get to know her, to be with her, to... Arthur! Control yourself! he chastised himself. The pain didn't subside.

 

[slut_in_white]

Maggie gaped momentarily at the money that Arthur handed her. She'd never seen that much money in one place before. People like her and her mother dealt in pence - it was rare for her to scrounge together enough coins to have even a single pound. For someone to hand her five like it was nothing...

Then, abruptly, he was talking. She found herself wondering how he was getting so many words out so quickly without his speech turning into a garbled mess. Then, his voice grew suddenly louder with the apparent realization that she was outside in her bare feet. She jumped at the change in volume, and then started laughing. She couldn't stop it, despite knowing that it was rude to laugh at him and his apparent distress, but that someone, especially someone of any means of import, was concerned for the well-being of her feet seemed utterly ridiculous. Especially when the floor inside the house wasn't any warmer than the ground outside.

She managed to calm herself on time to realize that he was excusing himself. She frowned instinctively. It was odd how very much she wanted him to stay, even if it was only for a few more minutes. She reacted quickly, before even realizing the repercussions of what she was doing; her hand shot out and grasped his sleeve, making him stop.

"Wait!" She paused, realizing that she had no reason to have done that, except that she enjoyed his company, and she was certain that he'd laugh at her (or that he'd at least feel uncomfortable) if she told him so. "I.. um.. but..." She paused again, blushing brightly, and cleared her throat. "It's dangerous to wander these streets at night, sir. Perhaps you should wait until you could hail a taxi." It was a weak excuse. There were few taxis willing to search this neighbourhood for fares even during the day, but Maggie wanted nothing more than an opportunity to enjoy Arthur's company a little longer.

 

[Niceandbrutal]

Her hand shot out and grasped him and although he physically could have done so with ease, he found himself unable, no, unwilling to free himself from her tender grasp. And when she asked for him to wait, there was something in her voice that compelled him to do just that. The fact of the matter was that he so enjoyed her touch that he found he never wanted her to let go.

"I.. um.. but..."

For some reason she seemed suddenly flustered, almost unsure of herself. Arthur smiled then without fully realising why. It was a smile he hadn't shared with anyone before. It wasn't a smile borne out of politenes or societal expectancies, that rehearsed twist of the lips that never reached the eyes. No, this was spontaneous and felt so much better for it. His eyes found hers as she continued to talk:

"It's dangerous to wander these streets at night, sir. Perhaps you should wait until you could hail a taxi."

He laughed a little then, a laughter as warm and alien to him as his smile had been. He had a vague recollection of smiling and laughing like this when he'd been with his nanny as a boy. But this seemed more profound and even more heartfelt somehow, and he wanted nothing more than to stay with her, he found.

Hasting to reassure her less she misunderstood why he laughed he said: "Your concern for my wellbeing is touching, miss Maggie. You are a rare woman of resource and deliberate action, and I salute you for it."

The words rang hollow. He'd wanted to tell her of his admiration of her radiant beauty, but that would have been... wrong. Not "wrong" as per societal rules (although that also held true), but wrong because he was certain this young woman received compliments daily for her appearance. He was certain that... what? He wanted to win her by appealing to her as something more than a pretty ornament or plaything, he realised.

He was thunderstruck. He knew what this was. He was infatuated with her, maybe even in love with her. But that was absurd! He'd only just met her! And besides, his parents had their own plans in that regard. The thought sobered him as a great sadness filled him. For the first time in his life, Arthur Conway esq. wanted to rebel against the stifling society he'd been born into. His first little act of rebellion:

"And how can I turn down an offer for help so readily given? But I insist you put some shoes on if you want to stay here with me while we wait for a cab. The air is chilly and I'd never forgive myself if you caught a cold or pneumonia from your generous act of kindness, miss Maggie. Now please, get inside and put something warm on. I'm sure the wolves will be kept at bay for a few short minutes."

What he "forgot" to tell her was that he'd both boxed and fenced for Oxford and his walking stick was hollowed out, a long blade inside should he ever need to defend himself. He was probably in less danger of assault than she was. But he wanted an excuse to be with her for a few more precious minutes, and she'd offered him a plausible one. He would wait with her.

 

[slut_in_white]

"And how can I turn down an offer for help so readily given? But I insist you put some shoes on if you want to stay here with me while we wait for a cab. The air is chilly and I'd never forgive myself if you caught a cold or pneumonia from your generous act of kindness, miss Maggie. Now please, get inside and put something warm on. I'm sure the wolves will be kept at bay for a few short minutes."

Maggie's lips turned up into a smile, and she nodded. "Alright, I won't be more than a moment!" And with that, she disappeared back into the house, into her room to find a pair of worn shoes and a thread-bare shawl to ward against the cool air of the night.

She returned a moment later and rejoined Arthur in the doorway of her little hovel. There was a moment of silence, and then Maggie asked, "I must admit, I'm a bit curious - how did a, um, man such as yourself end up in the Twisted Cat? Pardon me for saying, but you don't seem much like their regular clientele."

 

[Niceandbrutal]

Judging by their standard of living and her apparel, Arthur started to suspect he'd overpaid for his friends' activities. That would explain the overwhelmed look that crossed her face as he handed her the money. Not that he cared. He was already set for life and wanted for nothing. Maggie and her mother on the other hand looked like they needed every shilling they could scrape together.

Bearing all that in mind, he saw that she was careful to mend her clothing and take care of herself. In that regard she was a far cry from the description his own mother mother bestowed on "her sort". But then, Arthur suspected that his mother had never set foot in anything remotely resembling a slum.

His train of thought was interrupted when she reappeared, a worn pair of shoes gracing her feet and a shawl draped across her shoulders. Arthur again lost himself in her beauty that couldn't be belittled by her surroundings or her plain apparel. Arthur wondered what she'd look like with a proper dress and her hair fixed by a good hairdresser. She'd probably outshine every woman he knew.

"I must admit, I'm a bit curious - how did a, um, man such as yourself end up in the Twisted Cat? Pardon me for saying, but you don't seem much like their regular clientele."

Oh. Now this was awkward. How could tell her about slumming without offending her? He sensed she was a proud young woman, well aware of her place in society. The wrong choice of words could make him appear uncaring and something of a snob, and he so so wanted her to like him.

"Um, yes, about that..." he began feebly. "You see, my friends and I just graduated from Oxford, and..." ...and there it was again. A privileged upbringing. He hadn't had to work for anything in his life, apart from grades and to keep fit. He suddenly felt ashamed for talking about this to the young woman who'd probably had to struggle and work since she was a child. She probably hadn't had any schooling wither. The injustice of it almost made his eyes water.

"Anyway," he pressed on, "we promised each other a weekend on the town to celebrate our newfound freedom." He scoffed. Freedom from what, exactly? An education this young woman probably would give her right arm for if they'd allowed women to study at the university. Arthur felt more and more ashamed and silly talking about this.

"So we rented rooms at the- we rented rooms and set out to explore London. Only, my friends weren't content to visit the bars and lounges we- we're accustomed to. They wanted to experience, um, the REAL London, as they put it. And they wanted to bestow on me the company of a lady of the night since I nev- since I had the best grades. But I never- they wanted her for themselves, as it were. I waited in the bar before sending my drunk and sleeping friends back to the hotel before escorting your mother home."

He was blushing furiously now. He'd almost divulged personal details about himself again. The way she looked at him made him want to tell her everything about himself. The pause grew pregnant, so he blurted out:

"What do you do for work?"

 

[slut_in_white]

Maggie listened silently as Arthur explained himself. Much of what he spoke about seemed utterly foreign to her - university, celebrating the end of the school year, experiencing the 'real' London? She couldn't comprehend why anyone would want to leave a life of luxury to experience the hardships of those living in the slums.

His friends seemed different from Arthur himself. Much more careless, and certainly not the type to see her mother home so late at night. Maggie had always imagined that the propriety of the upper classes was where Arthur learned his impeccable behaviour, but it seemed that he was a rare sort even among the highest echelons of society. She was becoming more impressed with him by the moment.

She was so lost in thought that she hadn't even noticed that Arthur had fallen silent. Instead, she blinked at him in surprise at his next question:

"What do you do for work?

Maggie smiled sadly and shrugged. "Whatever I can, I suppose. I run a bit of a laundry service, and some mending. My mother would never permit me to join her, um, line of work, so I find what odd jobs I can do outside of that." She sighed. "Frankly, there isn't much available to a young woman like me. I could never survive on my own income. My mother is the one who feeds and houses us." She shook her head, then looked up at him, forcing a smile. "But that is too unpleasant a topic for me to want to continue speaking on it. Tell me, what sorts of things did you study at school?"

 

[Niceandbrutal]

Arthur's discomfort grew as she asked him what he'd studied. The fact of the matter was that the Conways, in addition to being nobility, were filthy rich. So rich in fact, that it wasn't necessary for Arthur to come near the family business in any shape or form. They were part owners of a rich goldmine in South Africa as well as a diamond mine. So his education wasn't for anything other than to build character, to make him, as his mother put it "a more interesting suitor".

"Well miss Maggie, it was a little bit of this and that. My parents chose my academic courses for me, so I am well versed in botany, history, philosophy, and literature. But only on a polite conversational level. But I was free to choose my athletic courses, I'm happy to say." He didn't tell her that he'd dabbled in writing, encouraged by his tutor in literature. He'd been told he had promise, but he was unsure whether he would pursue such a career.

Arthur cringed when he heard himself talk about his education. How extravagant mustn't it seem for her to take an expensive education just to be considered interesting and polite company? He'd read between the lines of what she'd told him, and her prospects were bleak. The life expectancy of a prostitute was shorter than the age of Maggie's mom,and if she died before Maggie was safely married, then... But that thought was too horrible to even contemplate. Arthur had a vision of Maggie as a mirror image of her mother in 20 years time. The thought brought unexpected tears to his eyes.

He turned to her, not caring if she saw his eyes glisten. In a rare display of emotion he said quietly: "I wish there was something I could do for you, miss Maggie. You deserve better than this.

Off in the distance, the sound of a horsedrawn cart drew nearer.

 

[slut_in_white]

Maggie looked up at Arthur, startled by the strength of the emotion in his quiet tone. "I wish there was something I could do for you, Miss Maggie. You deserve better than this."

Maggie smiled, though it was a sad expression. It was hard for her to imagine that there was anything someone of his means couldn't do. But he was earnest in his desire, so she knew that he honestly felt helpless. It simply drove home to her how distant they were - she couldn't even comprehend the forces and etiquette that dictated his behaviour. They were from completely different worlds.

And as the sound of the carriage approached, Maggie realized that they were now going to go their separate ways, and they wouldn't likely never see each other again. It was a thought that hurt more than it should have.

"You've already done much for me, sir. Simply treating me with the respect and politeness that you have is more than most have ever even tried to do. Thank you." She reached into her pocket and drew out the five pound note. As much as they needed it, it would be dishonest to take this money from him. She wouldn't have minded, had he been the usual sort of drunken lout her mother took to bed, but he had treated her better than anyone had in a very long time, and she couldn't not bring herself to steal from him, even by a lie of ommission. "I cannot take this money from you. It's far too much. The usual charge for such services is ten pence per... customer. I'm afraid you've greatly overpaid me, and I cannot allow myself to repay your kindness by stealing from you." She held the money back out to him, resolute. She tried not to think about the fact that she had no idea how they'd pay for their dinner tomorrow.

 

[Niceandbrutal]

Arthur looked at her with her outstretched little hand grasping the five pound note, intent on giving it back to him. He'd suspected he'd overpaid, but he found he didn't care. And now he found another admirable trait in her, a brutal honesty that would place her at a disadvantage money-wise. He wouldn't hear of it.

"My dear miss Maggie," he began, his heart skipping a little as he adressed her as 'dear', "My compatriots are known lechers, and I did not count how many times your mother, ah, conducted business with them. I wasn't present when they did, you see. Now, where I come from, it is customary to leave a tip as well as pay for any damages. Knowing my friends, they were none too gentle with your mother. I think five pounds isn't too much for her troubles. Please keep it in good conscience, for I shall not miss it."

He kicked himself as he said the last sentence. He hadn't meant to remind her again of the different worlds they inhabited. He stretched out a hand to halt the cab as he with his other hand grasped her hand. "I won't hear another word of it," he said as he gently lifted her hand and kissed it like he would the hand of a noblewoman. As he entered the cab, he looked at her small frame and felt a twinge of regret as he was almost certain they'd never meet again.

As the carriage started, Arthur leaned out to watch miss Maggie disappear in the mist and the darkness of the night. It made him want to cry, more than anything. He went back to The Savoy and retired for the night, the night porter assuring him his friends had been gently helped to their respective rooms. As Arthur went to bed he could still feel her skin against his lips, her strong hand against his chest. Sleep didn't come for a long time as Arthur Conway lay in his bed, reminiscing about his encounter with the fierce and beautiful miss Maggie.

The rest of the weekend was anticlimactic. Eddie and Tom were worn out and gloriously hung over, so they had a calm saturday spending time with what bot Eddie and Tom with haughty airs called more respectable company. A slow anger had started to burn inside Arthur. He had, he realised, lived a sheltered life of privilege. His friends, though more used to the ways of the world than he was, had a horrible way to speak of people of Maggie's class. Arthur wanted to copy a page from Maggie's book and shout at them. But to do so in polite society would effectively ostracize him from its ranks. Arthur calmed himself and behaved like a gentleman, even going so far as to laugh politely when someone quipped about poor people forgetting their place and starting to dress up closer to what was expected of the upper class.

Returning home on the sunday, Arthur sat quietly through the family dinner as his mother and father questioned him about his activities. Arthur omitted a few episodes and served a story of three young gentlemen about the town in the right places. Part of his story could be substantiated at least, and he'd served a half truth about them being overcome early on the friday night and making an early evening of it. His mother practically beamed at that and told Arthur's father: "I told you they would behave themselves, dear!"

Cedric kept quiet, but watched his brother closely.

The following weeks were a nightmare. Arthur was dragged around to several functions where young women of marrying age were numerous and omnipresent. More than once he found himself "accidentally" alone in a room with a blushing wallflower that started talking about the weather and fanning herself. Arthur tried his best to converse politely until they'd ran out of topics. And then an awkward silence would fill the room. About that time, the young ladies' chaperones would barge through the door and proffer some story or other about having looked for their charges everywhere. It was painfully obvious and Arthur hated every minute of it. But he felt he owed to his parents to make an effort. He would inherit wealth and title, he could afford to be picky. And yet...

The upper class girls were well bred and raised. They wore expensive lavish dresses. They made polite conversation. And Arthur was sought out for his looks, title, and wealth. He, as the americans would put it, had it made. But all the women, girls really, he met paled in comparison to the firebrand he'd met in Whitechapel. She had showed him what a woman could truly be. Brave and resourceful, she hadn't been afraid to take on a man much larger than herself to defend someone she loved. The more Arthur thought about her, the more he idolised her and wanted her. Not just for her looks, though she was a natural beauty, but because she was a lioness. Not least when compared to the wallflowers he'd met the last few weeks.

Then finally, a ray of hope. He had fallen into conversation with a young woman who had actually dared to contradict him. Her name was Fiona, and she was 19 years old. She stood 5' 4" tall with red curly hair and serious blue eyes. She was a little educated and she used her education to teach those less fortunate than herself, to her parents' distress and dismay. He had started seeing her, under chaperone of course. Both sets of parents were delighted, and even though he hadn't forgotten Maggie (and indeed thought about her in every private waking moment as well as in his dreams), he found Fiona to be pleasant company though a bit serious.

As the weeks passed they saw more of each other, both in and out of social gatherings and parties. The buzz in their circles had started, and even though Arthur didn't have any romantic feelings towards her (nor she for him, it seemed), they got along well enough and they both started talking seriously about engagement and marriage. Arthur started accompanying her to Whitechapel and he sometimes watched her educate all the little guttersnipes she could round up.

As fate would have it, their carriage went past Maggie's house every time they went to the school. And each time Arthu would eagerly look to see if he could catch a glimpse of her. If Fiona noticed, she never said anything. Then one day, at the beginning of August, the horses panicked and bolted, startled by the unmistakeable sound of gunfire in close proximity.

The carriage careened to and fro until one of the wheels struck a rather large rock and brought it to a screeching halt. Right outside Maggie's home. Arthur went out to survey the damage only to discover that they'd run over a child, not a rock. A little lad lay in the street, his arm askew and his face pale. Arthur went up to the driver to give him a piece of his mind, only to discover that he was wounded, obviously an unwitting mark for the gunfire that had set the events in motion.

Knowing a little something of anatomy and medicine, he judged the boy to be the most wounded. He tore off his jacket to cover the little boy and roared: "Somebody call for a doctor!" He registered a door opening close by, but he didn't look up.

 

[slut_in_white]

Maggies simply watched and listened in a stunned silence as Arthur insisted that she keep the money. To be so rich that five pounds meant so little... She couldn't even imagine.

What finally snapped her out of her shock was the feeling of his lips against her fingers. She flushed brightly and smiled shyly at him. "Thank you, Master Conway. You have been far too kind to me this evening," she said, her voice almost breathless from the way her heart was beating out of her chest.

She watched as he climbed into the cab, a sadness that she didn't quite understand growing in her at the sight. She was certain she'd never see him again, and the thought caused her to feel a certain bleakness towards the future. She wanted to call him back again, but that would have been ridiculous and completely inappropriate. It was late, and he would certainly have to make some excuse to leave with the cab before he was forced to wait for some unknown amount of time for another. She saved herself the humiliation of rejection by simply remaining silent while she watched the cab pull away, despite how her heart demanded that she call out to him.

She gave in, just a little, to her feelings when she saw his head appear out the window to look back at her as the cab pulled away, and she waved at him. Then, a moment later, he was gone into the darkness and Maggie pulled her shawl tighter around herself at the sudden chill, then she went back inside her little shack of a home to put her mother and then herself to bed.

------

The next several weeks passed much as they always had. Maggie used the extra money to buy some fresh vegetables which, thanks to a mind for frugality, she managed to make last for nearly a month. She felt more hale that she had in a very long time, and was always acutely aware that Arthur Conway was to thank for that.

She rarely stopped thinking of him. He had treated her with kindness and respect, not the disdain and condescension she usually experienced at the hands of those who felt themselves to be above her (which was very nearly everyone). She caught herself often thinking of what her life could be like if she had been born into higher status, if she had been born as someone who would be allowed to seek him out so that she could see him again. She imagined wearing fine clothes and going for long walks in the park, discussing all manner of topics. She wondered if, in that life, she would be educated so that they could speak on the same level, of if he would teach her the things he learned in school instead. They would talk for hours, laughing with each other, and always, always in these daydreams, Arthur would kiss her hand and she would feel that pleasant tingle on her fingers even weeks after their short meeting, as if his lips had left a brand.

------

It was a warm August morning, and Maggie was up and tidying the house while her mother slept off her hangover. Maggie was upset with her mother at the moment - she'd gone out drinking last night without any men to buy for her, and it had cost them much of the money Maggie had been planning to use for food for the week. Now, they didn't have enough for much more than a few loaves of stale bread. She was thinking about what they could do for food this week while she prepared to boil some of the laundry - maybe she could find a few more customers for the laundry service to make up the missing money? - when there was a commotion outside. A few loud bangs, the sound of panicking horses, and a crash and a thump. Then there was the sound of several men shouting and a few women's screams.

Maggie could imagine the scene outside her door. It was reasonably familiar. Someone had been shot. Part of her wanted to hide inside the house - she hated seeing the loved ones of whomever had been shot trying uselessly to save the doomed victim. She couldn't help empathizing with their pain, and she always ended up hiding in her room for an hour afterwards to cry. But, at the same time, she knew she couldn't hide away like that - she'd never forgive herself if she didn't go out to see if there was anything she could do to help.

She gathered up a few of the clean rags that she'd just laundered and a pail of clean water, and went outside to see what had happened this time. She saw the carriage and the man kneeling next to the child that had been hit, but then she saw nothing but the child. He was badly injured, she could see that much from the child's face. He wasn't screaming or crying, but was moaning raggedly, as though it was the loudest noise he could manage, with a face as pale as a ghost's. Maggie knew this boy - his name was Tommy, and he was usually out playing in the street during the day with a few other boys from the neighbourhood. He was a sweet child, always smiling and laughing, and he was kind to his friends and fiercely protective of those smaller than himself. She gasped, her heart twisting at the thought of Tommy's death from this unnecessarily violence, and she said a quick prayer for him as she hurried over.

She fell to her knees next to the boy's head, offering the man who was inspecting Tommy's injuries most of the rags without so much as a glance. She put the pail down between them, and dipped the one rag she'd kept for herself into the water to press it against Tommy's feverish forehead.

"M-mi-mis..." Tommy began to speak, his eyes opening for a moment to look at Maggie.

"Shhh," Maggie answered, cleaning some of the blood away from the gash he must have gotten from falling to the ground after being hit by the carriage. "You don't need to speak, dear heart. You're being very brave. You just lie still, and I promise to take care of you, alright?" She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the boy's forehead, smiling down at him. She was putting on a brave face for the boy, to assure him that he would be alright, though she wasn't at all certain that it was true.

She looked up at the man next to her then, who had called for a doctor, and her mouth popped open in shock when she saw who it was. "Ar-Arth..." she paused, catching herself, and cleared her throat. "I mean, Master Conway..." Her gaze flickered down to Tommy's injuries and she cringed. Then she swallowed her fear, squared her shoulders, and asked, "What can I do to help?"

 

[Niceandbrutal]

Arthur worked over the boy in a frenzy, so at first he didn't recognize the voice calming the little guttersnipe. He was handed some rags, but apart from the gash on his forehead there weren't any wounds to bind, no blood to staunch. Yet he was deathly pale and shivering despite the heat. Then someone said his name, and he looked up. It was Maggie. He'd registered that they'd stopped outside her house, of course, but he'd pushed that at the back of his mind as soon as he saw the injured boy.

He resolutely tore open the boy's shirt and gasped. It was apparent that he'd been run down by the panicked horses and run over by one of the cart's wheels. A part of his chest was caved in, and there was an unhealthy bubbling sound to his breath. He needed surgery, fast.

What can I do to help?

She sounded frightened, but in control of herself. Far off, Arthur registered Fiona's voice nattering on about something or other. But his brain pushed that aside for later. The boy's breath came fast and shallow now and blodd started foaming out of his mouth. Arthur knew there was little anyone could do unless the lad was operated on in the next few minutes. Tears started pricking Arthur's eyes as he told her with a quavering voice: "Stay with him and talk to him. I'll see to my driver. He was shot too."

He grabbed some of the rags she'd handed him and went to his driver. The driver winced in pain, but he seemed to be lightly wounded. A quick inspection revealed a clean wound as the bullet had passed through soft tissue in the driver's arm. Arthur pressed the clean rags to the wound and told his driver to keep pressing down on the wound.

Arthur returned to Tommy. The little boy's breath was becoming more laboured as more blood poured out of his mouth. Maggie was doing what she could for the little boy, talking soothingly to him as she did so. As Arthur kneeled down beside the little boy, a spasm went through Tommy. Then came a long drawn out rattling exhalation and the boy lay still. Arthur leaned down to listen, but there was no sound of the boy breathing, and his chest had stopped moving.

"Nonononono..." Arthur's facade cracked as he muttered his protestations against death. He grabbed the tiny boy and held him tightly, willing him to start breathing again. To no avail. An animalistic shriek reverberated through the alley as a woman pushed onlookers aside and all but sprinted up to Maggie and Arthur. She stopped in front of Arthur, shock and disbelief apparent on her face. With a tiny voice she asked: "Tommy?"

Arthur was at a loss for words as tears started running down his cheeks. And in the background he still heard Fiona's voice.

 

[slut_in_white]

Maggie did her best to hide her fear and her tears, and to speak to Tommy soothingly. She assured him that everything would be alright, that they'd help him and he'd get better soon. She wasn't at all sure that any of these things were true, but surely a few such little lies were worth peace of mind for a dying child...

Arthur returned quickly after checking on the driver who had been shot. When he tore open Tommy's shirt, Maggie had to hide her eyes - the unnatural shape his chest had taken almost made her sick. Her hands were still covering her face while she tried to swallow a sob when she heard Tommy's last, rattling breath. Sh pulled her fingers away from her eyes to stare down with some mixture of grief and horror at the boy's abruptly still face, feeling like she could see his soul leaving him. She watched Arthur gather the body up in his arms, as if trying to hold the soul in place, and Maggie felt her control slipping; tears began to glide down her cheeks, and a small sob worked its way up her throat.

For a few moments, she was unaware of anything but her own grief. Then, she heard the wail of Tommy's mother and opened her eyes again to see the poor woman drop to her knees in front of Arthur and take the limp body from him. There was inconsolable pain on the woman's face, and the sight of it only made Maggie start to cry harder, hugging herself tightly and losing herself for the moment in her grief.

 

[Niceandbrutal]

Neighbours gathered around Tommy's mother her to console her, and Arthur was aware of Maggie sobbing and hugging herself, tears running down her cheeks. Without thinking, Arthur embraced Maggie as he gave his emotions free rein. The back of his mind registered a shocked outburst from Fiona as he hugged Maggie, but he'd deal with that later. Right now he was overcome with grief for the little boy. But he was also surprised by how comfortable it was to hold her lithe body, how RIGHT it felt to- WHACK!

Fiona had just hit him with her umbrella. "ARTHUR! Unhand that- that PLAIN girl AT ONCE!" Arthur glared at her with such ferocity that she took a step back. "I- I'm going to tell my mother about this, Arthur!" But Arthur had had enough. He went to the driver, reluctantly letting go of Maggie. With a voice cold enough to chill boiling water, he addressed the driver: "I think miss Fiona wants to be elsewhere. Are you fit to drive her home? I will make my way home on my own." The driver nodded, and a pale Fiona entered the carriage and drove off.

Returning to the gathered throng, he went to Maggie again. The spell had effectively been broken by Fiona, unfortunately. He couldn't muster the courage to hug her again, much as he wanted to. By this time, a bobby had arrived and started questioning the onlookers. It was an open and shut case of death by misadventure, but Arthur still felt bad. After giving his statement to a bowing andservile policeman, Arthur turned to Maggie and asked of her: "Do you know where Tommy's mother lives? Please show me."

Arthur was still upset and on the verge of tears, wanting more than anything to embrace Maggie and shut the rest of the world out. But he was a gentleman of strict upbringing. He reined his emotions in as best as he could.

 

[slut_in_white]

Maggie certainly hadn't expected the feeling of warm, strong arms embracing her, holding her and comforting her. The surprise was enough to silence her for a moment, her sob catching in her throat while she looked up in shock and wonder at the grief-stricken face of one Master Arthur Conway. She recognized immediately that whatever social barriers separated them had been dropped, at least for the moment. For the time being, they were simply two people, seeking comfort in the wake of tragedy, without rank or status.

He felt like an anchor, keeping her firmly but gently in place in order to prevent her from losing herself in the grief that was threatening to overtake her. Where before she felt vulnerable, collapsed and crying in the street, now she felt safe, like she was able to experience her terrible sadness without fear of being judged or taken advantage of. Tears sprang renewed to her eyes, and she clung to him, breaking into fresh sobs with her face buried in his shoulder.

Maggie had frankly not even noticed the other woman with Arthur until she hit him with her umbrella. The woman's words might have been considered cruel, but she ignored them. They were precisely the kind of treatment she had come to expect from such "noble" ladies. What angered her more was this woman's apparent inability to recognize anything beyond herself as important. Maggie's tears stopped abruptly as a well of anger burst forth inside her.

"A boy is dead!" she shouted, pushing herself to her feet and taking several stalking, threatening steps toward the woman. "And all you care to think about is yourself!" She glared at the woman, shaking her had. "You seek to jealously protect... whatever relationship it is you have with Master Conway, when all you have succeeded in doing is proving that you are not worthy of so kind and noble a man as he."

The woman stared at her, evidently shocked into silence. Maggie heard Arthur speaking to the woman, and watched as he steered her back to the carriage and sent her on her way. Several of the people in the crowd were staring at her after her outburst, but they all bore something like approval in their expressions.

When Arthur returned, whatever had driven him to clear away the social mores that prevented him from touching her had gone, and he stood at a socially appropriate distance away from her. Maggie, on the other hand, was not quite so able to pull herself together so quickly. There were still tears pouring down her cheeks, and her knees felt as though they were about to give out. Before she could convince herself that it was a bad idea, she closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around his chest, pulling him into a tight embrace of her own.

The sound of someone clearing his throat behind her made her realize how incredibly inappropriate her actions were, and she pulled away from Arthur to turn and face the police man who was standing behind her. She blushed brightly, humiliated by her apparent inability to control herself, and took a step back to allow Arthur to give his statement.

Some time later, Arthur found her in the crowd again, and asked her to take him to Tommy's mother's house. She nodded. "Of course, follow me." As they walked, she remained intensely aware of the distance between them, moving carefully to ensure that they were never anything less than a perfectly and strictly appropriate distance from each other. She still felt terribly embarrassed by her lapse of control earlier. She stopped in front of a small building filled with one-room apartments. "She lives in number four..." Maggie said quietly. Her heart was twisting painfully in her chest at the thought of going inside - she so hated seeing other people in pain.

 

[Niceandbrutal]

As they walked along the street, Arthur's sadness was mixed with the joy of her unexpected but very welcome hug right before he talked to the bobby. He'd also registered the way she'd scolded and shamed Fiona, and how she'd praised him in front of her. He was a bit confused about the mixed emotions he felt, but he knew one thing: he liked the way she made him feel. And he'd again been reminded of the spirit and bravery she posessed.

The distance they kept as they walked down the street together felt wrong, almost unnatural. Arthur realized with a pang that he wanted nothing more than to hold her in his arms again, to reassure her, to take her away from all this poverty and degradation. They stopped in front of what someone might generously call an apartment building. If the encyclopedias ever needed an illustration for the word 'squalor', they could just make a picture of this building.

"She lives in number four..."

Her voice was small and laden with emotions. She seemed upset, as was only natural. They could plainly hear Tommy's mother wail, the sound bearing witness to her grief. Arthur hesitated. He dreaded going inside. And he had so much he wanted to say to Maggie. "Miss Maggie, I..." and the words failed him. Acting on impulse, he gently but firmly grabbed her by the shoulders and hugged her again, not caring if anyone saw him.

He held her for a little while, taking comfort in how she felt against him, how it calmed him down and at the same time aroused him. There was a painful throbbing in his loins, but he was secured in such a way that his excitement did not show. He pulled away, still holding her by her shoulders. "Miss Maggie, I must express my admiration for your resourcefulness and bravery back there. And I hope you will forgive Fiona for her outburst and what... what she called you." Arthur sighed.

He felt compelled to explain Fiona's actions. "What you must realize is that Fiona isn't used to- that is she hasn't- she's never..." He trailed off. What he wanted to say was: She's a spoilt little thing that thinks herself better than most because she's born into a noble family, she's read a few books and she thinks herself a saint because she teaches school to poor children. He sighed again. That wouldn't do at all. "She's not used to accidents you see," he blurted out, before realizing how utterly absurd that sounded.

A renewed series of wails snapped him back to the here and now. With an anxious face he looked at Maggie. "Will you come with me? I don't think I can do this on my own." With that, he went inside the building and gently pushed past the neighbours and onlookers that had gathered to console her and to witness the grief of Tommy's mother.

 

[slut_in_white]

Maggie hesitated as Arthur asked her quietly to come with him. She didn't want to. It was already so hard to hear the pain that Tommy's mother was in. She wasn't certain she'd be able to console her if she went inside. More likely, Maggie was going to break down into tears again herself the moment she crossed the threshold.

But she couldn't make Arthur go in alone, either, and so, steeling herself, she silently trailed him through the crowd toward the door. The apartment was small and damp. Tommy's mother was collapsed in a corner, crying into a shawl. She looked up when she heard them enter, and Maggie grimaced as her heart jumped painfully at the look of hopelessness on the woman's face. She crossed the room in a few long strides and dropped to her knees next to the grieving woman.

"Oh Marta, I'm so sorry..." She had wanted to say more, but had to stop as a sob of her own worked its way up her throat. Her vision swam with fresh tears and she gave up on speaking, instead opting to pull the woman into a tight hug.

 

[Niceandbrutal]

So that was her name. Marta. Poor woman. One look at her dingy apartment told Arthur all he needed to know. A woman doing her best with what she got with many mouths to feed and bodies to clothe. And yet she had that much love for her youngest that she was dissolved in tears at her loss. A sense of humility filled Arthur then, and he wanted to do what Maggie had done; walk over and comfort her. But his upbringing had never prepared him for such a scene of unmitigated grief as the one he was witnessing now. His eyes started to burn and he found it hard to breathe as he watched Maggie and Marta embrace each other.

He was also painfully aware of mutterings behind him. Someone were commenting that it was his carriage that had killed Tommy, while another piped in to say that the driver had caught a bullet in his arm and lost control. There was a subdued argument going back and forth until Arthur with a calmrestraint turned around and said: "My driver WAS injured and he DID lose control. Now please, show some respect for the poor woman in her grief." He started ushering people out the door, his tall physique and commanding presence by virtue of his education and birth giving him little trouble when dispensing the onlookers.

Then he softly shut the door. Hat in hand, he cautiously moved over to the two hugging women and knelt down to put a hand on Marta's shoulder. "I am so terribly sorry for your loss, Mrs. Marta. It will not bring little Tommy back, but I will see to the arrangements so that he gets a proper burial. And I would like to help you in any way I can. I can tell you are struggling to make ends meet. Please do not consider this an attempt on my part to assuage my guilt by paying you, for it was an accident which was no fault of mine. But I would like for you to take this," He handed her 10 pounds, "so that you for a time at least can fend for yourself and those you provide for. No, I insist."

She tried to push his hand away, telling him through sobs that it wasn't necessary.

 

[slut_in_white]

Maggie heard little after she and Marta embraced each other, what with Marta breaking down into sobs once again, and tears rolling freely down Maggie's own cheeks. She hiccuped, scrubbing at her face with her sleeve, when Marta pulled away.

Magge looked over to shoulder to see Arthur kneeling just behind her. He looked terribly pained, and she listened, shocked, as he held out the ten pound note to Marta.

When Marta tried to refused, Maggie gently took the note from Arthur and folded it into Marta's hands, a small, genuine smile gracing her features. "I can tell you from experience that Master Conway will not take no for an answer in this regard. His generosity is quite extraordinary." She lowered her voice. "And you have your other children to think of. Were you not just telling me how terribly Annie needs new shoes?" she asked gently.

Marta looked up at her, clearly conflicted. Maggie didn't blame her - she's tried to return the money Arthur had given her too. It seemed like far too much, especially for people in this neighbourhood. Most here had never seen this much money in their lives before. But with a small smile of encouragement from Maggie, she closed her hands around the note, and looked at Arthur with wide eyes. "Thank you, kind sir. I don't know how I could ever repay you for such kindness."

 

[Niceandbrutal]

Maggie came to his aid when Marta tried to refuse the money he offered her. "I can tell you from experience that Master Conway will not take no for an answer in this regard. His generosity is quite extraordinary. And you have your other children to think of. Were you not just telling me how terribly Annie needs new shoes?" The small smile that graced Maggie's face made his heart beat extra hard as something fluttered inside him.

Arthur felt his cheeks redden at the backhanded praise she gave him. He also felt a bit embarassed, but he couldn't bring himself to do what Maggie did: comforting the poor woman. Marta finally accepted the note and thanked him profusely, embarassing him further. He knew the money were a godsend for this woman, but it still felt inadequate.

Then he heard the door open and a tiny voice asking: "What's wrong, mum? And where's Tommy?" Marta had broken down in Maggie's arms again, Leaving Arthur to talk to the little girl surveying the scene in front of her. Arthur knelt down and looked her in the eyes. "You must be Annie?" he asked of her. She looked at him with large eyes and nodded shyly. "I am Arthur Conway, and it grieves me to inform you that your little brother Tommy is dead. He-"

That was as far as he got. The little girl started crying as she connected Arthur's words with the little bundle lying on the floor beside Marta. Without thinking, without considering whether it was the 'proper' thing to do, Arthur swept the little girl in his arms and held her as he whispered to her over and over: "I am so sorry."

The little girl wailed and screamed and pounded her fists on his shoulders, yelling "Nonononono!" as if she wanted to defy feath, to make death give her back her beloved little brother. All the way through, Arthur held the little girl until she was spent and hanging limply in his arms, sobbing quietly. At some point Arthur had started weeping again as well, but he didn't much care. He gently stroked her hair and comforted her as best he could as she finally fell asleep from sheer exhaustion after her outburst. He lifted her in his arms and asked simply: "Where does she sleep?"

Marta showed him, and he gingerly put her to bed so as not to wake her up. Then he turned to Maggie. "Maybe we should leave? I will of course be back again tomorrow to help with arrangements for Tommy's funeral. You have my word, madam." That last was directed at Marta.

After they'd said their goodbyes they exited the small apartment. Arthur slumped against the wall, a most ungentlemanly display. "I'm not ashamed to admit that was a taxing ordeal, Maggie. I could use some rest and recuperation. Do you know of a good place one can gather one's wits and get a bite to eat and something warm to drink?"

 

[slut_in_white]

Maggie watched with a small smile as Arthur put Annie to bed. Maybe it was just that she wanted to believe so, but she didn't think she'd ever seen such gentleness in her life before. Her heart chose that moment to remind her that they were from different worlds and could never be, aching slightly as she realized that she'd never see him putting their children to bed like that. The world would not allow it. She actually caught herself wishing that he, too, lived in Whitechapel. It was a fate she wouldn't normally wish on anyone, but she allowed herself that moment of selfishness, that moment in which she could imagine that she and Arthur might have some chance at being together, before shooing the thought aside and walking with him back out into the hallway.

"I'm not ashamed to admit that was a taxing ordeal, Maggie. I could use some rest and recuperation. Do you know of a good place one can gather one's wits and get a bite to eat and something warm to drink?"

She blinked at him, her mind taking a moment to get past his use of her name. It was the first time he'd called her that, without using some honorific or other... and she found she liked it. Quite a lot, in fact. She blushed and looked down at the floor, away from his gaze, using her consideration of his question as an excuse. "There's a tavern down the street. I'm certain the food isn't what you're used to, but the food is hot and the beer is cold. Or, if you'd prefer somewhere more quiet, I suppose I could make something for you at home..." She felt a thrill rush through her. What was she doing, inviting a man home with her? She knew, certainly, that Arthur would never take advantage of her, but that didn't mean it was proper. It seemed dangerous, how much she wished to spend more time alone with him.

 

[Niceandbrutal]

Arthur thought he saw her face flush as she bowed her head, seemingly in deep thought. It occured to him in the recesses of his mind that he might have displayed less than civil manners by calling her simply by her first name. But he was in a state of deep emotional fatigue, and he'd instinctively grasped at her name as a man might grasp for salvation after a shipwreck. He found that saying her name plainly was comforting to him, the sense of familiarity awakening a deep longing in him he'd never before acknowledged. He'd never called anyone except his brother and his male friends by their first names. His parents had always been "mama" and "papa", titles more than terms of endearment. But to call a woman near his own age by her first name like that, a woman he'd had more than one fevered dream about, was both comforting and liberating to him.

"There's a tavern down the street. I'm certain the food isn't what you're used to, but the food is hot and the beer is cold. Or, if you'd prefer somewhere more quiet, I suppose I could make something for you at home..."

Arthur was taken aback by her offer. Amidst all that had happened, this lithe young woman with her fierce temper and her iron will now displayed thoughtfulness and hospitality that thoroughly humbled Arthur.

Lost for words, he gaped and stuttered for a few moments as his eyes welled up. "Please excuse me, Maggie," he said, his voice breaking. He quickly turned away and wiped away the tears, realising suddenly how exhausted he felt. He used a few seconds to compose himself, then turned back to her.

"Well Mi-, um, Maggie, if it isn't any trouble I would dearly love some peace and quiet after our ordeal. That is, if you're sure I'm not imposing on your hospitality." He looked her deeply in the eyes by now, fearing she might have a change of heart.