Buck's Row

Buck’s Row. I hate this street, my mother brings me here often, I’m not sure why, she always says “This is where mummy works, darling.” She never tells me what she does, only that she keeps people happy. She leaves me round the corner, out of sight, there’s a row of arched windows and I sit in the third closest to mummy. “Stay here, Georgiana, don’t move a muscle, mummy will be back by the by.” She says, tucking a blanket tightly around my shoulders. The arches provide a bit of privacy from passers-by while I lie there till morning. Sometimes I come in close neighborhood with frightening drunken men but mummy never leaves me without a whistle to call her with and she always comes to my rescue. “Why can’t I stay with Mr. Thomas, mummy?” I asked, pulling on her bonnet strings. Mummy had just gotten a new bonnet, it was dark colored with velvet round the edges, I thought it was awfully handsome. “Mr. Thomas can’t look after you, when he’s sleeping, now can he?” She kissed my forehead and turned round the corner. Mr. Thomas is mummy’s friend, we live in his flat, his hands are always black from smithing in his shop below and he turns my yellow curls black when he ruffles ‘em, Mummy says I look like a ragamuffin, I take that as a bit of an affront. Mummy says he isn’t my Papa, I don’t remember much of me real Papa, the only memory I have of him is when I was a little one, three years ago, only 5 years. He and Mummy were awfully vexed with each other, Mummy accused him of something terrible and he struck her across the cheek. She woke me that night and told me not to make a sound, she walked a long time with me wrapped around her waist, tucked inside her overcoat, it was nearly morning when we made it to Mr. Thomas’s shop, he had been kind to her and she felt safe with him. We haven’t left since.

The fog started to pour in over my feet first, I could feel the cold seeping in through the wet cobblestone street, then wafting up through my nose, I started to shiver underneath my blanket. My eyelids started to get heavy, from either sleepiness or the cold or both. I drifted out of consciousness and my mind went to the happiest moment of my life thus far... candles warming my face, Grandpapa, Mummy, Papa, my sisters and my brothers all singing Happy Birthday joyously, it was my 5th birthday, the only time everything felt just, a smile was a rare happening for all of us but that night, in Grandpapa’s parlor, there wasn’t a frown to be seen. Suddenly - I woke to a blood curtailing scream. Frozen with fear, I held my blanket tightly around my shoulders, my eyes were glassy and I couldn’t see much of anything. I rubbed them as I mustered the courage to peak around the corner. Before I knew what was happening, I was whisked away by small, strong hands, one covering my mouth, the other grasping my shoulder tightly. “Shhh.” He whispered. “It’s okay, I’m Harry, you need to be very quiet and walk with me.” I looked into the boys emerald eyes and they didn’t look threatening, his intentions seemed kind. “But I need to find my mummy.” I whispered. “Your mum can’t help you anymore, now we need to hurry before he finds us too.” He said shakily. I didn’t quite understand but I knew that I needed to go with him and I trusted him as much as one can trust a strange boy.

Flecks of golden light overcame the black as I blinked my eyes open. Sunrise. December 21st, 1900 - the calendar was dated. Marvelous. My most dreaded day. I had the same dream on the night before my birthday every year; a flashback to that horrid night, the night my mother was killed. “Happy Birthday, Miss Georgina!” I turned to greet the sweet face who had woken me every morning since Harry and I were first discovered on the doorstep of the Rosewood’s estate. “Thank you, Eliza.” I said, begrudgingly, while lifting a piece of toast off of the breakfast tray she carried with her. “16.” She said in melancholic awe. “You’re practically a lady now, love.” She remarked. “According to the bloody bastards who created the standard.” I scoffed and stuffed my mouth with toast to avoid further discussion of the topic. “Mrs. Rosewood would have you hanged if she heard you use language of that caliber and I taught you better English than that.” She scolded. “I apologize.” “But I did not say you were wrong.” She smiled. I laughed in relief, “All of the gentlemen of my age behave as though everything is so set in stone, make money, marry a dull woman, bare as many children as possible, die of old age.” I rolled my eyes. “There must be a few suitors with the likeness of Mr. Harry.” She suggested. I rolled my eyes, “Harry is the biggest bastard of them all.” I chuckled. Harry and I were close friends, people often deem our casualty with each other improper but given our unusual introduction and close quarters in which we’ve spent our adolescent years, formalities feel hardly necessary. “He’s only that way with you, you should see him with the other ladies.” She said with a raised brow. “Now stop stuffing your face and come get dressed.” She ordered, opening my wardrobe and taking out a champagne colored morning gown. “Oh, heavens don’t make me wear that.” I whined. “It’s not me who’s making you, Miss Georgina, you’d send Mrs. Rosewood to the hospital if you showed up to your birthday celebration without proper dress.” She warned. “Adelaide is very proper.” I remarked with a crooked face. “I don’t mind all of it, I appreciate an elegant gown just not the part where I can’t breathe for an entire day... or the memories that resurface every year.” I said, my nightgown muffling my words as I lifted it over my head. “And Eliza, why won’t you call me Jo? You know I hate formalities with old friends.” Eliza was a middle-aged African-American woman who had worked for the Rosewoods since she was a young woman. She was given an education by the previous family she serviced until she was accused of stealing an acquaintance’s broach, she was dismissed by the husband. Soon after she heard gossip about a reputable couple purchasing an estate and inquired about a job as a maid, when questioned, she explained her situation honestly, a woman had misplaced her broach at her employer’s home and Eliza found it the next day, when she showed it to the man of the house he assumed she had stolen it and he dismissed her immediately. Adelaide valued her honesty and believed she was innocent. She taught me and Harry grammar, arithmetic and science. Harry finished his studies five years ago and I finally completed mine in the fall. She used to try to fit her thick curls into a bonnet to adhere to Adelaide’s dress code but I convinced Adelaide to forgo it and let her hair flow freely, I think it a shame to keep such gorgeous hair hidden. “Now aren’t you a vision.” She admired, resting her head on my shoulder. I rested my head on hers and took a moment to look at myself. For the first time, I noticed my mother, my face had finally found her likeness, strong cheekbones, button nose, soft jaw, hooded grey eyes. Tears started to form in the corners of my eyes and I turned quickly away from the mirror. “Right then, I shouldn’t keep everyone waiting.” I sniffled and wiped a tear. “It’s okay to miss her, Jo.” Eliza said softly. I looked at her and unclenched my jaw, allowing a sad smile to surface and opened the door.

“Jo! Happy Birthday, my darling girl. Aren’t you magnificent.” Adelaide said, grabbing my shoulders and kissing both my cheeks, she pushed me away and admired my dress, her eyes settling on my face. “You’re not so little anymore, little owl.” She said with a soft smile. Since the night Eliza found me and Harry, Adelaide had called me her little owl, she said owl’s symbolize insight, wisdom and death, a seemingly dark concept, obviously I couldn’t grasp its meaning as a little girl but the older I got the more sense it made to me. My mother being murdered not 100 feet away from me when I was only 8 meant that I could never have the same upbringing as other children. I had to immediately grow up. Harry was forced into the same life after his father was hanged for stealing food and his mother died shortly after of bronchitis. He managed to survive on the streets for a year until he saved me from my mother’s killer and we found ourselves on the doorstep of the Rosewood’s. “Ugh, there the gentlemen go arguing about something silly again.” Adelaide scoffed. Harry and Frank, Adelaide’s husband were often heard arguing in the library over who knows what. Harry has been working as Frank’s apprentice since his 15th birthday, learning the business as he would eventually take over one day. Harry could be quite stubborn and Frank, even more so. “Darlings! Stop squabbling and come say Happy Birthday to Jo!” Adelaide scolded. Frank came out of the library and Harry followed, they were always quick to obey Adelaide. “Happy Birthday, Georgina.” Frank said, planting a scratchy kiss on my cheek. “Thank you, Mr. Rosewood.” I smiled. “Happy Birthday, Jo. You look older.” Harry winked. “I look even better than I did yesterday.” I scoffed and turned my cheek to show my offense. Harry laughed and grabbed the ribbons on the back of my dress, stopping me in my tracks. “You look lovely, is what I meant.” He said, his expression softening. “Thank you.” I gazed back quizzically. “Eliza, please have tea and cake ready by 2:00.” Adelaide requested. Harry and I both quickly changed our gaze to Adelaide and Eliza. “Jo, would you like to open your gifts before the guests arrive?” Adelaide asked. “I would love to.” I said happily. “Wonderful, come, come, they’re in the parlor.” The sunlight danced through the stained glass windows by the stairs and onto the ivory walls in the hallway. Mornings at Rosewood are my favorite part of the day, well, evenings too, I can’t pick a favorite. Adelaide opened the French doors leading into the parlor and a stack of gifts lay waiting on the floor in the corner. “You always get me so many gifts, I feel spoiled.” I laughed. “What else can you expect my dear, you’re my only daughter.” Adelaide said, kissing my head. I loved Adelaide like a mother but I could never bring myself to call her mother, that was reserved for only one person. She understands but I know she feels sad sometimes. Adelaide was never able to have children so she was overjoyed when Harry and I landed in her lap.