Matt

March 1666
I ran through the front door, ecstatic. It was falling off its hinges with rot from the shit that we threw down from upstairs, but I didn't care. Daisy was powdering her face, pretending not to hear me come in, but I didn't care. I wanted people to know the contents of the piece of paper I waved in my hand, and didn't care who.
'Guess who thinks I can paint!' 
'I'm amazed already, carry on,' shouted Daisy, wrinkling her nose and sprinkling the little white particles, dust-like, all over the floorboards. 
'I don't actually know his name, it's all bollocks, but who cares!' 
'So, who is this gullible idiot, then?'
I skim-read the page. I could only read enough to go by in life, so I shoved it into Daisy's white hands. I was hopeless with names. 
I watched her large, brown eyes scan the page. 'All you need to know is that you're painting some duke's daughter who's probably a piss head and will end up in your bed anyway.'
'What?' I exclaimed, my face burning. I snatched the piece of paper from her hands, half embarrassed and half angry.
'They all do,' she said, straight-faced. 'And clearly, this poor guy hasn't heard about the Beatrice story.' She rolled her eyes. 
'Beatrice?'
'You know,' she sighed. 'The one with blonde hair and blue eyes, like the rest of them. You slept with her and nicked fifty pounds off her, but still decided, and this was what you said, that she had 'nice boobs'.'
'Bloody hell!' I said. 'You remember all the people I've ever slept with?'
'Yes,' she replied, calmly drawing red circles on her cheeks with her fingers. 'As you told them to me.' She threw a bag at my feet. I looked at her, puzzled. 
'What's the bag for?'
'You're going, aren't you?' she said, lifting up her skirts and getting up to shove me out of the room. Her eyes widened as she pointed to the door. 'You've got your commission; you might as well show them you're eager. I've got a gentleman coming at four, so I've got to tidy up this dump.' She saw my pouting face and stroked it tenderly. 'There there, I'm sure you won't be gone for too long,' she said condescendingly, planting a kiss on my cheek. 'Now go break some hearts.'  

I squinted at the paper again and looked around for signs. There was supposed to be some huge house around where I was standing, but clearly I couldn't see it. I crossed the five points of the star marked out on the square. Each point led off in a different direction, but once you went one way, you'd get so swept about by the crowds that you couldn't go back. 
'What are you staring at?' a brash voice called from behind me. That's London for you. You stop to look for something you've never seen before, and instead, you find someone you already know.
'Beatrice?' I said, startled. I eyed her from head to toe. 'What are you doing here? I came back to get you, I did, but your dad said you were with the nuns.'
'Is that what they told you?' she said, in disgust, her eyes having lost all the sparkle that they had when I first laid eyes on her. 'You said you loved me,' she sobbed, sounding a bit like a pining animal. 'You said you would come back for me. You said!' She bent down, hiding her face behind her hair, to pick up the baby crawling around at her feet. My eyes met hers, and I recognised that look in her eyes.
'I- I was- look,' I said, reaching into the bag. It was no use lying to her; she could tell from the tone of my voice that I didn't care for her or her child. I pressed the last silver coin I had into her hand. 'For the baby.'
She clenched her fist around the coin and threw it to the ground. 'I don't want your money,' she shouted angrily. 'Even that isn't much. You're hopeless, Matt, always were. Things could have been so different. I said no so many times, but then my heart had to go and tell me what to do.' She walked off, pushing me into the crowd. 
I said no so many times. Those words, and Daisy's, rang around my head as I was dragged away by the masses. 

	I arrived at the house, much later than expected. That conversation with Beatrice seemed so pointless now. I glanced at the paper in my hand and noticed I was in the right place.  For a moment I was slightly taken aback, why had the duke requested me to paint his daughter? Surely, he would have wanted some one of higher class. Higher class. I reached into my bag and pulled out a pair of breeches that hadn't been scuffed by the crowds, made sure no one was watching, and changed into them. Dusting myself down, I advanced up the imposing gravel track to the house, towering above me. The neatly landscaped gardens on the edges of the carriage track were a world away from the dirty cobbled streets of London, but the strange smells of the city had carried, reminding me that I was only on the outskirts. 
            My hand slowly reached up towards the door and I tapped it lightly. Hoping someone inside would hear me. 
	I stepped back slightly as the door opened. A small, fat maid urged me to speak. Clearly wanting me to tell her why I had knocked on the door. 
	“I received this” I shown her the paper and she just shrugged. “I’m here to paint the dukes daughter” I smiled and brought a paint brush out of my pocket. She sighed.
	“The painter's here, sir” The maid screeched, she clearly didn’t care as to who could hear her.
	“Send him through” I heard a husky voice say and the maid ushered me in. 
	She took me down a long corridor, painted with gold leaf and dark red walls. It was amazing how many pictures of royalty looked back at me.  Compared to them, my paintings were ridiculously simple, even trivial. 
	The maid tapped lightly onto the door in front of us and the voice ushered for us to enter.
	“On time I see” The man, possibly the duke; spoke with so much elegance. I was beginning to think this was a bad idea.
	“Yes sir” I answered and just hoped it was alright for me to answer.
	“You may leave now. Send for my daughter immediately” The duke ushered to the maid and moved out of his chair to look out of the window. “The price I give you depends entirely on the outcome. I dislike the painting, you get nothing. Although, it would be more appropriate and better for yourself if it was right first time.” 
“Yes sir,” I replied in submission.
'I have seen your painting of that actress, Miss Elbourne, being touted around London. I believe it is a little rough for my liking, but I have full confidence in your talents.'
'Sir, you can't ask me to paint your daughter like that,' I said. He turned from the window, astonished at my rudeness. I bowed. 'I beg your pardon,' I said, trying to pronounce every letter, as Daisy did when she was speaking to a 'gentleman'. 'The painting caused scandal in London and since then I have been out of a job,' I said. 'If people find out that you've employed me, you'll be- you'll get a bad reputation.'
'I am getting old,' the duke sighed. 'When I am taken from this earth, all my property and money will be taken from this family and bestowed upon my nephew, Lord Atkinson.' 
'Eh?' I said, confused. The duke glared at me with his piercing stare. I shut up.
'I see you do not know my situation,' he said, walking towards me and pulling out a chair. I hesitated, and he extended his hand to show that I could sit on it. He took a turn around the room again. 'My late wife and I were never very close- I believe she only married me for my money. We had one child, a daughter, but under the old rules of succession, she cannot have any of this,' he said, mournfully. 'The family seat relies on a male heir, which I, as my father's eldest son, have not provided. Therefore, the next best solution for my daughter's happiness is to marry her-' he paused anxiously. 'To marry her cousin, who is my heir.'
'And you want me to paint her because-'
'Lord Atkinson was always a very stubborn child when I had the pleasure of meeting him,' the duke said sarcastically. 'He and Clare had only met as children. He refuses to marry my daughter unless he sees her portrait.'
'But why doesn't he come here and meet her in person? Surely that's the best way for him to decide if he wants to marry her. That way, you're not kept waiting. So if he refuses, you can start looking for somebody else a lot quicker.'
'Surely that is the best way,' he said pensively. 'But he refuses to come to London. Full of the vices of our world, he says. Besides, wouldn't you prefer it if there was something in it for you? I would like you to paint my daughter with energy, with life. I believe that the melancholy expression she holds would deter him if he met her in person.'
I propped my head up in my left hand, trying to look interested. If this girl always looked sad, as her father said she did, she obviously wasn't going to be another Beatrice. Which, in one way, was good, and in another, bad. 
'Father,' a soft voice said, opening the door. We both turned at the sudden entrance of his daughter. I cursed my slight short-sightedness, which prevented me from looking at her in any real detail. As she walked closer, however, I could make out dark brown ringlets framing a pretty, heart-shaped face, and the same large blue eyes as her father. Her lips were always curled in a pout, but she wasn't altogether ugly. 'You sent for me.'
'Indeed,' her father replied, clearing his throat. 'Clare, this is Matthew Willis. He is going to paint you for Lord Atkinson.' Clare's face turned into a look of dread as he mentioned the lord's name. I smiled at her uneasily. She didn't smile back, but whether that was because she was snobby or because she wasn't familiar with me, I don't know. 
'You will address my daughter in public as Isabelle-Clare, for that is her proper given name. But in this house, you may call her Clare.'
'Miss,' I mumbled, bowing stiffly. She curtseyed back, her nose still turned up at me. Despite the frosty greeting, I couldn't help feeling that it wouldn't be very difficult to paint her. 
'Beatrice!' the duke called. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up with the name. I couldn't bear to look at the maid who was in front of me, eyeing me irately.
'Pray, my dear niece, greet our visitor with civility!' he said, attempting to lighten the cold mood in the room. 'Do you know this man?'
'I believe I do, my lord,' she said, giving me evils out of the corner of her eye.
'Then it will make showing our young Master to his room a lot easier,' the duke said, pushing me into the hands of Beatrice. Looking back at Clare, who stared at us with suspicion, I could tell that this wasn't going to be easy. 

I looked at the blank canvas, and then at the girl standing in front of me. My hands were black from holding the stick of charcoal, but I hadn't actually got round to using it yet. I frowned nervously; it was easy painting extroverted, vivacious Daisy, but Clare just shyed away from my stare. 'Look happy,' I said, not sounding very enthusiastic. 'You're marrying a rich guy who's going to keep you happy for the rest of your life. Isn't that enough for you?'
There was silence for a few seconds as I sighed, putting the charcoal to canvas anyway. It would be better to work with what I had and get less, than not have anything at all. I turned the easel round so she could see what I had drawn. 
	I don't look like that!' she snapped, her face suddenly stirring into life. 'I look like an old woman! Change it!'
'That's better!' I said. 'Carry on like that and we'll have a dozen paintings of you. You look better when you're angry.'
'Oh, thanks,' she retorted, the colour draining from her face. 'People like you wouldn't understand. You're only concerned about where you're going to get your next meal from.'
'Try me.'
There was a pause. 'There was a little girl standing in the same way as I am now, twenty-three years ago, being painted. Look where she ended up.'
'Sorry?'
'My mother,' Clare said, wistfully. 'She was thirteen when she got married, and died ten years later.'
'I'm sorry.' I busily sketched her as she was talking, to find the best pose. 
'I didn't know her well; I was five when she died. My father never married again, out of respect for her, but I could tell that they didn't love each other. If I marry Lord Atkinson, he may well love me but I could never love him.'
'You don't know that.'
'He needs my title, not me,' she sighed, gazing dreamily out of the window. Now, she didn't seem to care if I was looking at her or not. 
'Sit down on the chair,' I said, getting up. I was afraid of being too forward, but she sat down as I told her to. 'Take this off,' I said, pointing at the white under dress covering her chest. 'You look like a nun with it.'
She was alarmed at my blunt way of speaking. 'I- I can't. To do so would be indecent and besides, it's part of my dress.'
'I'm sorry, but you won't get to your wedding night looking like a prude,' I said. Annoyed by this, she removed her pristine white gloves and threw them to her feet. I tried not to look as she tore open the front part of her dress. 'I'm not the whore you painted in London,' she said. 'My father will see this painting too.'
'Do you have a necklace?' I asked, not hearing what she said. 'A long one?'
'I receive my mother's jewellery when I am eighteen,' Clare replied, haughtily. 'Why?'
'To draw attention to your chest,' I said a bit too frankly. 
'Mr. Willis, do you intend to insult me in every single way known to Man?'
'If it gets me my fee, I'll do anything,' I said, turning her head in the right direction. 
Just then, Beatrice entered a mop and pail in her hands. 'Beg your pardon, Miss, Mr. Willis,' she said, noticing the torn dress. 'I didn't realise you had begun your work already.’
“I beg your pardon?”  Clare wondered as she saw Beatrice look at me in an unseemly manner. 
“I just meant about the painting, miss” Beatrice stopped and turned her head away from me. She certainly was trying to make this hard for me. 
“Oh I see. You can leave the cleaning till later. I’m sure my father wont mind”
“But, Miss” Beatrice whimpered and looked at me for a sign of reassurance. I wasn’t giving it her.
“Just leave” Clare boomed and sat back onto the stool.
“There was no need to be so rude.” I explained to her and carried on with the painting.
“I don’t see why this has got anything to do with you. Everyone knows about her reputation. The only reason my father employed her was to keep the peace. I don’t even see why she is part of this family” She sighed and fiddled slightly with the white glove she picked off the floor.
“I’m only trying to paint you; I don’t want a life story”
“Well, you know where the door is. You can easily walk away. I don’t need you to paint me. I don’t even want to marry him.” She screeched and threw the glove onto the floor.
“There is no need to get so angry over this. I’m just a painter remember” 
She stopped briefly and looked herself up and down. She always knew she was acting over the top. She shook her head and sat down; ready for me to carry on.

I sighed as my hands ran down the cold stone walls of the empty stairwell. Beatrice had promised to tell nobody about what had passed between us, but as her cousin, Clare probably knew everything. What must she have thought of me? God only knows. I knew that I had a stupid habit of getting too involved with my subjects- other painters in the city merely sketched their subjects once and painted from memory.
I painted Beatrice. The painting had hung in my bedroom for a week before I decided that I hated it, hated every memory of her. I was young and had made a mistake, but why wouldn't it leave me?
I heard footsteps approaching the stairs. Looking up, I headed the opposite way and collided, headlong, with Clare. For the split second in which she was caught in my arms, our eyes met in a strange way. I resolved to myself to let her go, but she didn't object to the embrace and neither did I. Suddenly, however, I snapped back into the world, aware of someone else. 
Beatrice was following us again, and she saw my hand reach Clare's skirt. 

'You're cleverer than I thought, Matt,' Beatrice said, bursting into the room. I was sitting on the edge of the bed, rocking back and forth, worthless thoughts flying through my mind. 'You're trying to ruin me, aren't you?'
'I can't be emotional with you anymore, Matt,' she replied. Beatrice always called me Matt, her pet name for me, despite the coldness between us. 'You broke my heart and ruined my reputation. People know, Matt. Everyone except, it seems, members of my own family. The only thing my uncle understands is that I'm penniless, broken off from my father,' she snapped. 'And I'm going to live to see you seduce my cousin and cast her aside like you did all those times before?'
'Not 'all those times before'', I protested, pathetically. 'There was only one other before you.'
Beatrice was unaffected by my pleas. 'You can't resist, can you? Face it, Matt; this is what your life's all about. It's all a fucking game to you. You can't live without some impressionable virgin on your conscience. You were always a lowlife, but I never imagined I'd think of you as despicable.'
'I don't want Clare! I never have. That's the last thing I want right now, believe me.'
'I would believe you. I saw you, on the stairs. You did it sub consciously, Matt. Your hand was up her skirt. You touch her again, and she will know everything.'
'She knows everything! She's seen the child; she talks to you, what is there left to know?'
'I told her that Douglas was the father.'
'What!' I exclaimed, facing her. 'You told people that a boy fathered my child?'
'Yes.'
'He was bloody fifteen! If you're trying to fucking insult me, you've got another thing coming,' I said, opening the door out into the corridor. 'Get out,' I said. Beatrice refused defiantly, and I pushed her out by force. 'I said, get out!'

I couldn’t face being with Clare that day. Not because she had done anything, but because of Beatrice. I was scared she’d tell everyone about our little escapade. It wasn’t like I chose for Beatrice; she decided she wanted the child; far before I knew. I told a maid to pass on the message to Clare that I wouldn't be painting today, because I felt 'ill'. I was just about to retire to my room, when I heard someone coming up behind me. 
“I get the distinct feeling you do not wish to be in my presence” I heard a small voice say. “I can easily ask my father for another painter if you wish.” I finally realised it was Clare.
“No. I would like to carry on. I just have a high temperature that’s all” 
“I know I’m not an apothecary, but you do not seem flustered, are you sure there is nothing more?” 
“Nothing more Miss; I mean Clare” 
“I bought you this anyway” She informed me and brought out a small bottle. “It’s all I could get, but I suppose it’s better than nothing” She smiled and sat down on the edge of my bed. 
After uncapping the bottle and smelling what was inside. I could see that she had brought me some ale. Something I had been longing for quite some time.
“Won’t you get into trouble for this?” I wondered as I took a sip.
“There is no problem. Father requested me to bring it to you. He thought you complexion was slightly off hue” 
“I appreciate it. Tell your father; thank you” She smiled briefly and closed the look between us. “How are you feeling today?” I finally asked her and she tried ever so hard to look directly at me.
“As well as expected.” 
“Not good then? I have the feeling it maybe Lord Atkinson” 
“Who else could it be?” She laughed softly and tried to get comfortable, even though the dress she was wearing; didn’t look that comfortable. “He still wishes to see the painting, rather than visiting.”
“I’m sure no matter when he arrives, you’ll still look as beautiful as ever” 
“Somehow I think you’re trying to make me feel better” 
“At least one of us will be” I laughed and finished off the last swig of ale. 
“I don’t mean to sound rude, but how do you cope? Lord Atkinson can buy me with connections and stability, but there's one thing he can't buy me with, and that's money. I thrive from luxury.” 
'I was raised by prostitutes, what d'you expect?' I said. 'I was passed on from woman to woman, called all of them 'Mother'. Then I caught smallpox and was thrown out onto the streets.'
Clare looked down, probably hiding the shock at my story. I know most people would look at me in disgust after hearing about my background. 'What happened next?' she asked. 
'I was found and put in the pesthouse- shitty, grotty place. I wanted to die there, it was so bad, but I didn't. After forty days, I was shoved out again, and found shelter with a girl-'
'Another prostitute?'
'No. Well. She became one later. But that's besides the point. Ever since the day I was born, my existence has been crap.'
'I never knew my mother either,' Clare said, softly. 'I only remember the day she went back to France, and then Father, the following year, telling me that she had died. I had a nurse whom I thought was my mother anyway,' she sighed.
'Yeah, it's alright for you, though. You were brought up in an honest family and your whole life has turned out good. I was brought up with no respect for women and look what happened-'
'What happened?' she asked, blinking her large eyes at me. I coloured. All this time, it was like I had been talking at the wall. Walls can take secrets. But women can't.
'It's a long story, and I'm tired.' Lame excuse, but hey, it sent her off track for a while.
To my surprise, Clare didn't attempt to find out the story from me. 'My father won't be very pleased if I keep you from your rest,' she said, the dodgy floorboard creaking, signaling her exit. 

Six weeks and six days had passed with no more intrigue from within the walls of the house. The painting was now nearly on it's way, and I didn't try to start again even once. As the artist, I could only pick fault with it, but the sitter, at least, was satisfied. I was scared of what her father would think: he had only seen the painting when it was three days along. At this stage, there was no room for anything could go wrong. 
I was now working without Clare to finish the bottom sections. She insisted on being in the room with me, to tell me if it was 'like' or not, but got diverted with something else every time. Today, it was my son. 
It felt eerie sitting in the same room as the baby, who wouldn't even bat an eyelid at me. If only you knew, I thought. Someday, he would know, but what if I was gone before he found out? What if all the things he heard from his bitch of a mother were bad things? I had to stay on this earth, for his sake, to argue my case when the time was right. I winced every time Beatrice slapped him when he wouldn't sit still. My genes, definitely. Clare was more tender towards him, picking him up and singing, quietly, into his ear. 
I had a desire to draw her, standing by the window. There was something about the way she never looked at me, that made me feel better looking at her. Beatrice saw me drawing and turned away to concentrate on cleaning the floor again. I shaded in the folds of her skirt, working my way up to her corset, until-
'I see you are hard at work,' boomed the duke, striding into the room. I was fed up of his sarcasm, which he thought was so funny, now. 'I have decided that today, of all days, I would like to see the product.' 
I shoved the drawing behind the canvas and moved away from the painting, anxious to see what he was going to say. The frowns and close examinations made me convinced that he thought it was rubbish, but finally, he said, to my relief, 'It's- it's beautiful. £100 at least.'
'Thanks,' I said, bowing. I really should've got out of the stupid habit of bowing every five seconds. It didn't half kill my back. 'It's a credit to the sitter.'
'And at the right time, too,' the duke said, watching his daughter running around. 'Lord Atkinson, it seems, has finally decided to make an appearance.'
'Should I be out of here soon?' 
'No. You have painted the picture, and you shall unveil it to the world,' he said, grandly. 'Lord Atkinson is coming to London with his mother and sister in July; they shall stay for three months, by which time, I hope,' he lowered his voice, 'they shall be married.'
'That's a bit soon, ain't it?'
'He is giving a Venetian ball as soon as he arrives- all the guests are masked, so one can never know who one meets. He hopes that the painting shall be unveiled there.'
'I'm not going to a ball if that's what you want me to do,' I said. A ball was a rich person's thing, was my thinking. But now that I had my £100... I guess...
'Oh, nonsense! I shall want it known that you have made my daughter look a princess.'
'You underestimate her too much,' I muttered under my breath.
'Eh? What's that you say?'
'Nothing,' I smiled faintly, as he walked over to join Clare. 

So, tonight was the night. Perhaps I was over reacting, but it wasn’t like I wanted to go; I was forced. I stopped briefly to take a look at myself. One maid had kitted me in some black breeches and a velvet black shirt.  I was slightly taken aback on how much the duke had requested me to wear as it was all pretty expensive. I wasn’t good enough to wear it. They had also given this black mask, covered in millions of sequins and glitter. There was only one word for it, and that was that the whole thing was gay. 
	“Are you ready Master Willis?” The house maid asked me as she walked in.
	“I really don’t think I’m cut out for this. I mean since when do I suit this?” I referred to the black breeches chaffing slightly.
	“If you wish to look elegant then don’t complain”
	“I don’t wish to look anything. It was the duke’s idea for me to go. Not my own”
	“Well, if the duke has requested then surely you should abide to his desires” She informed me and led me towards the ball. 
	I was surprise to see as many people as there was. All shapes and sizes and I mean some sizes didn’t even fit on the scale; they were huge. I tried my best to cover my features, but it just wasn’t working. The mask was too small. It would have to make do. I assumed Clare and Lord Atkinson had met already, but with his personality, I wasn’t sure.
	'Hello handsome stranger,' someone said. I turned around, not even sure if it was directed at me. 'Or, not such a stranger,' she said, now looking straight at me. I recognised her girly, mocking laugh. 
            'Daisy!' I frowned, looking at the eyes. 
            'Guilty as charged,' she smiled, giggling. 'What are you doing here?'
            I looked down at my feet as I shuffled about nervously. 'Forced. I don't see how you can just hang about in high society like this. I can't bear it,' I said, moving into a corner where nobody could see me. 'Your accent's good. But what are you doing here?'
            'Oh, you know, business,' Daisy smiled, blinking artlessly. 'No one knows who I am,' she laughed, nearly cackling in her high spirits. 'Isn't it fantastic?'
            'Not exactly,' I said, noticing that a pair of old ladies were staring at me weirdly. I shuddered under their gaze. 
            'Haven't you got a partner for the next dance?' Daisy asked. 'I'm free for the next one if you like.'
            'I don't dance,' I said, looking at a young woman in a red silk dress, with a huge ruby around her neck. Scarlet. The colour of shame and the colour of love. Both go hand in hand. 
            'Ahh, I see. Who is she, then?' 
            'Who's who?'
            'You're not dancing with me,' Daisy said, sounding vaguely disappointed. 'That means some other girl has got your attention, and not me.'
            'There are plenty of other men in the room for you to pounce on, Daisy, not just me.'
            'But you still haven't answered my question. Who is she? I know there's some other girl, you don't have to hide it.'
            I refused to answer. 
            'Is it the girl you painted,' she said suggestively, peering over my shoulder at a cluster of girls waving fans innocently, as if drawing men's gazes in by them. 'Is it one of those girls?'
            'Hell, no,' I responded, going red. 'She's about- about this tall,' I gestured, 'and she has brown hair-'
            'You only looked at her body?'
            'Well yeah.'
            'I should've known,' Daisy teased, circling around me. 'Good luck with whoever she is,' she said, almost falling into the arms of a young man, who carried her away into the sea of people. 

            I rushed out as fast as I could, breathing in ragged gasps. I had to get out. Under the glowing lights of the ballroom, which had turned from a sharp yellow to a muted orange, I was suffocating. Walking along the rows of bushes in the labyrinth, and into the night air, I spotted a girl, striding around aimlessly. 
            'You can't stand it in there either,' she said, breathlessly. She ran her hands around her stomach. 'I can't breathe in there.'
            I collapsed onto the gravel path. She sat down beside me. 'Stand up,' I said. 'You'll get your skirts dirty.'
            'I don't care,' she said, lying down next to me. 'I am not using up every last bit of my energy standing so that my dress doesn't get dirty.' I looked at her in the darkness, but couldn't make out her features or her mask. 'Who are you?' she asked, looking me straight in the eye. 
            'Just a person,' I said, 'Who's of no importance to anyone in this world.'
            'Keep up the mystery, why don't you,' she said, laughing. Her laugh faded out into a wheeze after a while. 
            'Why, who the hell are you?'
            'A princess, finding her prince. Even if I have found him, I'm not convinced. Every single man I've met has been either rude or dishonest. But you're different- you're neither.'
            I felt as if I had heard her voice before, but wasn't sure where from. Where I was from, I'd never heard anyone speak like that. And yet, I thought I knew this person already...
            'Let's walk,' she said, her arm fixed in mine. I wanted to walk off, leaving her stranded in the middle of the labyrinth, but she insisted on walking by my side. She paused. 'Are you who I've been looking for all this time?'
            'Believe me, I'm the last person who you could be ever looking for,' I muttered, looking away from a couple who had very obviously got busy already.  
            'I don't even know why I have to be forced to find love, here, tonight,' she said. 'I know nothing of those things. And there's no one of the opposite sex who could ever be attracted to me.'
            'Don't be stupid,' I said, though the only thing I could really see in the darkness was her lips. 
            She carried on daydreaming. 'What's it like to kiss someone you love, with all your heart, I mean?'
            In the back of my mind was a memory of Beatrice. I shook the memory out of my mind. 'Well, you just close your eyes, and turn your head, and-'
            'I don't mean what do you do- I know what people do. I mean to ask, how it feels. That is, if you know anything of that.'
            'It's sort of- this,' I said, kissing her on the lips, but without tongues. 'Only different. Way different.'
            'How different?' 
	“It’s hard for me to explain. I think you need to love someone to understand what a real kiss would mean” 
	“And have you? Had the real kiss?” She asked, looking at me directly. Well, from what I could see from her eyes.
	“I would say I have, but my feelings change pretty quickly” I informed her truthfully. “And how about you, ever had that special kiss?” 
	“Nope, I’m yet to find that special someone. No one seems to be interested in someone like me” She sighed heavily and sat back onto the ground beneath her.
	“You shouldn’t say things like that, there is someone out there for you and although I’m not cupid, I wouldn’t lie” I laughed slightly.
	“I know you’re only trying to be nice and I appreciate it. Thanks” she smiled softly and arise from her sitting position. “I suppose I better get back. I can’t stay out here freezing. It was nice talking to you” She finally finished the conversation and sealed this with a softening kiss on the cheek. I wiped it away slowly and captured the kiss into my hand. I couldn’t understand as to why I was acting this way with her, I was falling and I was falling pretty fast. 
	“You’re very welcome”
	
“I’d like you to meet my daughter” The duke signaled elegantly and as she walked closer to Lord Atkinson, you could tell she was even more depressed than she had normally been. He bent down slowly, taking her hand in his and bringing it up towards his mouth. She softened. 
	“I think you are more beautiful than your picture” He complimented her and from the looks of it she was having nothing.
	“You would have to say that” She breathed and removed her had quickly. “You’re getting my fathers money. Which buy rights should be mine”
	He laughed hoarsely. “You are yet to know what I’m really like; I would not deprive a lady of her money”
	“Then why accept to marrying so early? You hadn’t even met me and hadn’t really wished to in the future either. I don’t want to marry you. I don’t even like you” 
	“I think you better cool down Isabelle.” The duke spoke and she knew she was in trouble. No one ever called her Isabelle unless she was in the wrong. He lowered his voice. 'You've been rather too passionate tonight.'
	“You can’t make me marry anyone if I don’t want too.”
	He sighed. “Master Willis, why don’t you and Isabelle go out for some fresh air? You still parade that sickly hue. Master Atkinson and I wish to chat”
	“Ok sir” I was instructed to take her out, but from the looks of it I was going to receive the back end of her problems. However, she had already left and this meant me searching for her. 
	Was she trying to cause me as much pain as possible? I couldn’t understand, but from the looks of it she had taken quite a shining to my son. 
	“You can’t stay like this forever” I told her gently, but she chose to ignore me. “No matter how hard you try, you’re going to have to marry him” 
	“And who asked you? You’re nothing but a low life who goes round from home to home. You have no right to comment on my life” She spat at me and tried so hard not to wake the sleeping child. 
	“I don’t think that was called for. I’m trying to help you here, not becomes your enemy. And I don’t appreciate you speaking of my home life, when I explained it to you in confidence.”
	“I’m sorry I didn’t mean too.” She sighed and brought her gaze back onto the child. She stroked his hair lightly and smiled as she felt his soft skin.
	“You seemed to be more of a mother than Beatrice”
	“Well, someone’s got to look after him. I don’t suppose she or the father cares.” 
	“I beg your pardon” I spluttered possible forgetting that Douglas was the father, well to her anyway.
	“I’m always the one getting up the middle of the night to see to him, although my father says that when I'm a lady, I won't be wanting to busy myself with such things. I can't help it- feeling sorry for him, I mean. Beatrice definitely doesn't want him. Jack and I are burdens to society- no one wants us. If they do, it's for the wrong reasons.”
            'Beatrice never told me his name.'
            Clare's eyes scanned my face. 'What's it to you?'
            If I had been drinking something, I would've spat it out all over Clare right then. I straightened myself up, my feet wanting to run me away from her. 'Nothing, just curious.'
            'I've often wondered why she dreads to utter his name. Perhaps Jack's father named him. The blame must not be placed entirely on poor Beatrice, that I cannot accept. It breaks my heart to hear other people mention what happened, only to refer to my cousin as 'the prostitute'. Somewhere, perhaps not very far from here, is the insolent person who dares call himself the father of the poor child.'
             I was powerless to prevent an outburst. 'He didn't leave Beatrice with child, she just didn't bother to tell him. He tried to return when he found out, to help her, and he was going to marry her, but for some bloody irritating reason, everything had to go wrong.'
             'I don't understand. What are you saying?' Clare asked, closing her hands over Jack's ears. 'Do you know something? Do you know his father?'
             'Yes, very well,' I muttered. 
             'I'm very sorry that you have to associate yourself with such a man,' Clare sighed. She looked up to the stars, and changed the subject. 'You know, I saw a young man who looked strangely like you hanging about round here about half an hour ago,' she said, eyeing me up and down naively. 'He was dressed in black- although much more mysterious and, dare I say it, more dashing than the likes of you,' she said, blushing. 'I have changed my costume since then- it stifled me. I hope he recognises my voice, or at least my hair. I want to find him, Matt.'
            Something inside me clicked. He was dressed in black. Yes, but there were lots of other guys wearing black. But she had changed her costume since then. 'I'm sure whatever you were wearing before, you looked beautiful in it,' I said, being careful not to put too much stress on the beautiful part of the sentence. 
            'Oh- hardly. The red silk played up my complexion, making me look like a gypsy,' she replied, moving her hands to her cheeks. 'And I'm pretty sure I sounded like a horse, gasping in that terrible corset.'
            Red silk. I cast my mind back to the scarlet girl, lying down by the walls of the labyrinth. I bit my lip, unravelling the mask in my hands. I had played a horrible trick on Clare, and what's worse, I enjoyed it. 

            I ran back, through the clusters of people. Clare didn't follow me, pacing around and looking for my alter ego instead. I leaped up the marble staircase towards the back of the hall, skipping steps, and not knowing where I was heading. 'Shit, shit, shit!' I said to myself, entering a room and shutting the door behind me.
            I heard a scream from behind me, and looked around the room. I picked up a poker, keeping close to the wall. I heard the scream again, and stepped forward, only to knock over something metal. 
            'Do you hear that, Nick?' said a woman's voice, in between some panting noises. I heard a shuffle come from behind some curtains. My eyes widened as I saw an arm reach out, grope around in the air, and disappear under the curtain. 'You distract yourself, Beatrice,' another voice replied. 'There's no one there. Even if there was, would you mind?' There was a pause and a laugh before the screaming began again, clearing the way for me to get out of the room. 
            'What the fuck was that?' I said, not expecting a reply. I jumped back when I saw a boy throwing a ball against a wall. His hair was half covering his face, but I could still see who it was. 'Douglas?'
            He threw the ball at me with his puny arms. 'Matt.'
            'What are you doing here?'
            'You were in that room?' he said, pointing his thumb to the door I'd just come out of.
            I nodded. 
            'He's my master now,' he said. 'Lord Atkinson's bootboy. I've done alright for myself. What about you?'
            'If that was Atkinson, then who was the-'
            Douglas' eyes narrowed as he laughed. 'Beatrice,' he said. His laugh made me want to punch him in the gob- it was an irritating noise, something in between a horse and a child. 'Who else?' he said, running his finger down a groove in the door. 'I thought I'd never see her again- but then she is a whore. I don't really do anything in my job, except following Atkinson around, and doing that, I see things. She'll move on, she'll live, she'll sleep with someone else tomorrow night.'
            I gritted my teeth. Douglas saw my face. 'Of course, you would know all about that, wouldn't you?'
            I seized him by the collar and pushed him against a pillar. 'You shut your mouth before I fucking shut it for you.'
            He spat in my face, making my grip on him loosen. 'I only touched her once.' 
            He escaped from under my arm; I ran after him. As I pushed him against the wall, he looked surprised, and I thought I had him, but then he laughed again. In a split second, my fist rammed into his nose, sending blood trickling down into his pale hands. 
            'Matt?' said another voice, coming up the stairs. It was Clare. 'Are you up here?' 
            She approached the handle of the door, turning it one way and, when it didn't open, turning it the opposite way. 'Don't go in there!' I shouted, but it was too late. 
            'My lord,' she cried. Douglas looked at me, puzzled. Then, there was a shriek from the room. 
            'Beatrice!'
	A single tear dripped from her eye as she saw both Nick and Beatrice, in a clenched position. You could tell Clare was clearly upset with the whole situation.
	“Clare” Beatrice breathed slowly and Clare was having none of it.
	“You little whore! I don’t know why I ever trusted you!” She screamed back at her and ran out of the room.
            'And I don't know why you ever trusted him,' Beatrice retorted, turning to me. 
            'Him? Oh, bring the painter into this why don't you!' Clare cried, biting her lip.
            'Excuse me?' Beatrice said, getting up and holding a sheet to her chest. 'You call me a whore, when he's the bastard!' she shouted, pointing to me.
            'Don't you fucking dare,' I said, coming up close to her and gripping her tightly by the shoulder for a second. I let go, pushing her back into the wall. Beatrice let out a small cry as I did so. I stumbled backwards. 'You never could keep your mouth shut.'
            'I don't understand,' said Clare, through her tears. From the corner of my eye, I could see Nick attempting to leave the room. 
            'Stay where you are,' Beatrice screeched, looking at him the same as she did me. 'Have you never wondered why I am always in the room when he's painting you?' she asked. Clare stared at me, at Beatrice, and at the both of us, clearly in a daze. Beatrice sensed her confusion. 'You don't know what that man would do to you if I left you alone together,' she said, turning away from Clare and venting her anger at me. 'Tell her about Jack,' she commanded. There was a pause. 'Tell her!'
             'You bitch!' I shouted, scowling at her. 
             'You see the resemblance now?' Beatrice asked. Clare's face suddenly turned white. I didn't dare look at her. 'Matt is Jack's flesh and blood,' she shouted. 'He's the one who ruined me, the one who left me when I was three months pregnant!'
             'I didn't even know his name until tonight!' 
             'I wanted nothing to do with you, Matt,' she exclaimed. 'I went away from London to get away from you! But you have to drag me through this torture all over again. How do you think it makes me feel every time I see you touch her,' she said. Clare started crying again. 
             I walked over to Clare and placed a hand on her shoulder. She shrugged me off. 'It wasn't like that,' I protested. I shouted at Beatrice. The words crept out of my mouth. 'You fucking liar! You keep saying that I left you, but I was never with you in the first place. You were too fucking easy for that.'
             There was silence. Clare drew in a large breath and clutched Beatrice's hand to steady herself as she stood up. 'Beatrice, get dressed,' she said, looking at Nick. 'I'll be in my room.'

            What the hell was God thinking, making it rain at the end of August? The long summer had been blistering hot- if I stayed in the house, I'd burn alive, but if I went outside, I would've burned even quicker. Looks like someone finally decided it was time to come along with a huge bucket of water and extinguish the fire which had been blazing throughout the city for months. 
            I sat on my bed, staring at the ceiling. My eyes were almost shut, but I couldn't be arsed to go to bed. I was in the middle of counting the rings and marks on the ceiling, when there was a loud, violent rap on the door. I got up and hurried my way to the door, but was pushed out of the way by Daisy. 'I'll get it!' she shouted, bustling past me, half dressed, but still wearing the large hoops around her waist that kept her skirts up. I shrugged, making my way back to my room. Although it was the early hours of the morning, there might still be some horny git calling for her at this time of night. 
            My ears started up as I listened out for the conversation at the door. The voice talking back to Daisy was faint and drawn out, but I could tell that it was that of a girl. 'Who dragged you in?' asked Daisy. Even when she was rude, she sounded sweet and inviting- exactly what she needed in her trade. 
             'Does- does M-Matthew Willis l-live h-here?' replied the voice before letting out a splutter. I stood up and grabbed the door handle. 
             'Yes,' said Daisy. 'What business do you have?'
             'I- I need to know where he is... I need to find him,' the voice said, getting softer and not hearing anything Daisy said. 'Please ma'am, you have to h-help me,' she said. I ran across the landing and down the stairs. 'Who's there?' I asked. 
             'Ma- I mean Mr Willis,' she said, lifting her head on spotting my face. Her face and most of her body was covered by a green cape, but I could see that her clothes were soaked, and her pale lips were blue in the moonlight. For a few seconds, she attempted some uneasy breaths. She mouthed the words 'help me' at me, before collapsing at Daisy's feet. 

            'Poor darling,' Daisy said, stroking the girl's sleeping head in her lap and combing out the curled rat tails in her dark brown hair. 'She's probably been around looking for you all night.' 
            'Yeah, but why?' I asked, reaching out a hand to her ghost-white face. 'Not even the purest white could get the colour that's on her face.' 
            When I placed my hand on her face, the girl started gasping, her eyes rolling back in her head. I flinched, terrified at the sight of her whole body shaking in front of Daisy's skirt. Daisy looked at me calmly. 'She'll be alright,' she whispered, afraid to wake her up from the fit. 'It's the cold that's done it. It's a shame that big cloak didn't protect her from the rain- this wretched hair is never going to dry in one night.' 
           The girl gasped again, regaining some colour in her cheeks. She grabbed me by the collar. 'Matt,' she said, shaking me. 'He's coming to get me; he's coming to get me.'
	“Who is? I don’t understand” I breathed softly and I could tell from her expression that she was clearly shaken up.
	“Lord Atkinson” She mouthed quietly, just so Daisy would not hear. I don’t suppose she was being rude, more secretive. 
	“What’s he done? Are you alright?” I asked quite concerned. I knew what Nick was like and from the looks on her face; this time he had done something awful.  
	She began to cry, trying to stop the tears from dripping from her eyes. Her mouth opened few times, possibly trying to explain to me why she was here, but she was too shook up to tell us both.	
	“Maybe you ought to get some sleep” Daisy suggested and I smiled. She always liked to care for people, never for herself. Always thought of others first.
	“I don’t want to cause any trouble” Clare breathed and picked up her soaking green cape. “Maybe I better go home” 
	“No, bloody hell woman. You aint going out in the rain like that, you’ll catch your death” Daisy told Clare like it was and pushed her slightly into her room. Closing the door behind them both; leaving me giggling slightly.
	“Take your clothes off and I’ll find something for you to wear” Daisy smiled and Clare looked slightly embarrassed. “If you’re worried about me looking don’t worry. I won’t” She giggled softly and turned around; searching through the several piles of clothing.
	“Here, wear this; not very practical, but I’m sure it’ll keep you warm” Daisy explained and threw a small nightie over her shoulder. 
	“Thanks” Clare answered politely and placed it over her shoulders. When she had finally placed it on, it barely covered her body. The length barely reached her knees and it seemed quite tight. Somehow she thought Daisy was thinner than she was. “Thanks for helping Daisy” 
	“Don’t mention it” She smiled in response and took her back to Matt. 'You can have Matt's bed.'
            'Oi!' I said. 'And just where am I going to sleep, Miss?'
            'Floor,' Daisy said, undoing her hair. I gave her the puppy dog eyes. 
            'Don't give me that, you,' she said, throwing some combs and hair slides aside. 'Clare's a lady. Ladies don't sleep on floors.'
            'Can't I sleep with you?' I asked, cheekily. Daisy slapped me playfully. 
            'Don't push it,' she said, carefully blowing out the last candle. 'Clare, if he makes you sleep on the floor, I want to hear about it, okay?' she said, throwing off some item of clothing in the dark. 'Go to bed, bastard.'
            'Shut your face,' I said, carefully climbing up the stairs to my room, Clare following tentatively behind me. 

            I awoke to the sound of some movement on the bed. I turned over, hugging myself in the cold. 'Bitch,' I said, shifting onto my front. 
            There was some sobbing and some agitated moving around on the bed. I pulled the pillow over my head, but I couldn't blank out the crying. 'Go away,' cried Clare in her sleep. I imagined that she was having some sort of nightmare, and that it would pass. 
            'What are you doing?' Clare said, inquisitively. I jumped up, thinking it was me to whom she was speaking, but her eyes were firmly shut. 'Father!' she shouted out, getting up. I ran over to her, waving my hands in front of her face. It was like she was in some sort of trance. I grabbed hold of her shaking hands. 'Get off me!' she shouted, her eyes open, but blank. 'Don't touch me! Go away!'
           She started shaking, as she did earlier. I leaned on her, pushing her backwards. She let out a painful-sounding howl, blinked, and looked straight at me. 'Please don't leave me here alone,' she said, putting her arms around me. I tried to let go, but she held on as if she was holding on for her life. 'Stay here, with me,' she said, pulling me into bed. 
           'Clare, please,' I said, letting go of her hand gently. 'I need to go to sleep, and so do you by the looks of it.'
           'But I can't sleep,' she said, whining. 'Please, just stay here with me for five minutes, and when I've gone to sleep, you can go.'
           'You can go to sleep on your own, can't you?' I said wearily. 'Unless you're cold, cause I can find you another blanket.'
           'Please, no,' she cried, grabbing me tightly. My heart started beating faster as I could feel the curves of her body through the thin nightie. 'I've always... I've always been like this.'
           'And you've always had someone sleeping next to you until you fell asleep?'
           'Beatrice used to sit beside my bed, when she first came to stay with us,' she said softly. 'She could never sleep when she was having Jack. I fell asleep to the sound of her voice, crying for you. Then she had her confinement, and I was all alone. They were some of the scariest nights of my life,' she said, her eyes glittering with tears. 'My father always used to ask her what was wrong with me. I listened in on their conversations- they made me sound stupid and childish.' Her voice was tinged with anger. 'They were the only people who knew, but I've been like this since I was- since my mother died.'
           'Sorry,' I said helplessly, lying down beside her. 'I guess I'll stay here for a bit if it makes you feel better. Just don't tell Daisy,' I said. She nodded, and I stayed awake, watching her heavy eyelids close.  
          
	I woke up the next morning, Clare's legs wrapped around me. I shuffled out of her grip. She groaned, curling up into a ball. 'Cold, I'm cold.'
            'We're all bloody well cold,' I muttered, pulling my shirt back onto my shoulders. Clare had somehow managed to undo all of the buttons in her sleep. 
            'Morning,' she smiled faintly, bringing her hands in front of her face to shield it from the light. Her long hair was neatly scattered about her shoulders, running down to her waist. 'Did you have a good sleep?'
            'Not with you, I didn't,' I cursed under my breath. 'I'm going out. I'll see you later.'
            'Wait for me,' she said, sitting up with her legs crossed. 'I'm coming with you.'
            'You better not.'
            'I can go anywhere. I came all the way here, didn't I?'
            'I need a drink,' I said, motioning to leave. Clare hid behind a curtain, taking a deep breath and pulling Daisy's nightie off. I gave her a dirty look. 
            'Don't look at me like that,' she said, returning to the impatient adult side of Clare rather than the side left behind at five years old. 'Where are my clothes?' I threw a still damp pile at her and walked out of the door. 'Hey! Wait! Don't go anywhere,' she shouted back at me. 
            'I'm a man, and you're half naked in my room. Hurry up.'
	“God what’s up with you this morning?” Daisy laughed softly and finished with the etching of her make up.
	“No sleep” He muttered and headed for the door.
	“Hey! I said wait didn’t I?” Clare breathed hoarsely and I muttered.
	“I can’t spend all my time waiting for you, you know” She sighed and placed the damp green cape around her body.
	“Ignore him. He’s usually like this in the mornings” Daisy smiled and placed a reassuring arm around Clare.
	“Come on then” I breathed and opened the door. Clare placed the hood around her head. I doubt she wanted to be seen with anyone. She followed my quite leisurely and looking at the unreal surroundings around her. 
	“You’re going to have to be faster than that if you wanna keep with me” I informed her as we entered the market town.
	“I’m sorry you didn’t get much sleep last night, but you don’t need to be so rude” She stopped and folded her arms.
	“You can’t act highly on my now” I grabbed her arm and pulled her closer towards me. “You have to keep by my side I’m not in the mood for you to go missing” She sighed.
	“Fine” She was now walking by my side.
	“Are you hungry?” I asked her as we went past several stalls. She shrugged. 
	“Not really no” I stopped suddenly and huffed violently.
	“Are you ever fucking happy?” 
	“There is seriously no need to treat me like this. I’m sorry I came looking for you and I’m sorry I ever thought you’d be able to help. Fuck you” She screamed back at me and I knew from her upbringing that, her little outburst was the first time she had ever cursed in public.
	“Excuse me?” I blinked and covered her mouth. “Are you trying to get everyone to look at you?” I breathed softly. “I’m sure if people hear you then, someone will come looking. Next time just shut up” She bit my fingers. 
	“Stop being so rude then.”
	“I’m not being rude. I’m just…” My sentence was cut short. I noticed a familiar voice. I turned around slowly just to make sure it was ok for me to look. 
	“Excuse me but have you seen a girl around here. Wearing a green cape? Dark brown hair?”
	It was Nick. I guessed from the description he was looking for Clare. Without informing here, I pushed her behind several hay bails; making sure she was out of sight.
	'Sorry sir,' said the old man, weakly. 'There's too many peoples like that round here.'
            Nick walked off shakily without noticing that the man had replied. I guessed from the way he walked that he was slightly drunk. Clare mouthed something to me, but I couldn't work out what she was saying. She pointed at me, and at herself. I raised an eyebrow. She sighed, crawling down low behind the hay bails as Nick walked past. 
            He stopped just before where Clare was. I could hear her gasp in shock as he grabbed her by her dress, covered in mud from crouching down on the ground. I ran off into an alley, but I could hear what he was saying. 
            'Who are you?' 
            'Me, s-sir?' Clare stammered, changing her voice. 
            'Yes, you,' he replied, slurring his words. 
            'I am but my own poor mistress, sir,' she said, sounding like a less mouthy version of Daisy. 'If you would please let me go-'
            'You are the very image of her,' he said. I peered around the corner. Nick ran his hand down Clare's arm, staring into her eyes. I saw through that look. 
            'Hey, clear off!' I shouted, wrenching Clare from his grasp. 'That's my wife you're holding, thanks.'
            Clare appeared surprised, but put her head on my shoulder as a sign of her gratitude. 'You rich people think you can make a mockery out of us, don't you?' I said, shaking. 'You think you can just take someone off the streets and sleep with them, don't you. We have lives too. Clear the fuck off,' I said, Clare hiding behind me. He backed off. 'Maybe it's the drink going to my head. I will find her, even if she is hanging out with scum like you.' 
            Clare grabbed me by the arm and kissed me, properly, for a second. 'Thank you so much,' she whispered, breathlessly. 
            'Fuck me, you're good,' I said, turning my head and returning the favour. She relaxed her arms, letting me run my hands up and down the lacings holding the back of her dress together. 'Why are we like this?' she asked, as I undid the knot. 'Here, and now,' she said, entwining her leg with mine and leaning into my crotch. 'Why you?'
            'I don't know,' I breathed, as her hands moved to my trousers. 'But this says that I love you.'  She proceeded to play with the rim of my trousers, but I knew for a fact that nothing could happen; well not here anyways. I grabbed her hand and pulled her in the opposite direction Nick had gone off in. 
	“Where are we going?” She asked me as we run along the crowds.
	“Back to mine” I informed her and she smiled.
	“You really are naughty aren’t you Matthew” She giggled and tried hard to keep up with me.
	It took some time for us both to return, purely for the fact that Clare was rubbish at running. I knew that it was fine for us to be here, because we’d be alone. Daisy would be out and wouldn’t be back until the early hours of the morning. Clare took off the cape and through it across the room, possibly trying to get into bed quicker than myself. I took her hand and pulled her into my room. She seemed to like it. I don’t know why I shut the door because there was no one there, but I only thought it to be polite. She was the one to make the first move and violently pushed me backwards onto my bed, tearing away at the clothes on my body. She giggled. I seriously couldn’t see how she was more of higher class than myself, she was damn right naughty. 
	“I’m too innocent for this” Clare breathed softly and stopped as she sat above me.
	“O shut up, you’re as innocent as Daisy” I laughed with her soft breathing. 
            She smiled. 'Which is?'
            'Not innocent at all,' I said, sitting up in between her legs. As my hands loosened the dress, and then the corset, trapping her body, she let out a sigh before subconsciously turning her head from my gaze. I kissed her again, pulling her tongue into my mouth and reaching up her skirt. 'There's only so much you can tell from a painting.'
            She giggled cheekily. Pushing her onto her back, there was a thunderous blast of laughter as I started pushing higher inside her, my head moving above her chest. 'What've you got to fucking laugh at?' 
           'Stop it,' Clare cried, when I moved to kiss her breasts. She lowered her voice. 'You, just make me, l-laugh.'
           'I'm not big enough for you, am I?' I said, sarcastically. 'You've got another thing coming, girl,' I panted, as I began to push faster. 
           'I feel dizzy,' replied Clare, her heartbeat accelerating with my movement. My mouth sucked against her neck. 
           'God,' she said, letting out a groan and tightening around me. 'I said stop-'
           I pulled out of her, releasing myself on her stomach. I laid down beside her, running my hands through her hair. Her face was flustered. 'Virgins, don't, fuck, like, that,' I breathed, my head rolling back. She smiled at me angelically, moving her fingers down to her stomach and licking them off. 'Who said I was a virgin?' 
          'You're not?' I asked. She stared at me with wide eyes. 'Well, let's go through this- you're seventeen, you're unmarried, and you're rich. Rich girls keep locked up until they're married. Nice rich girls, I mean.'
          'Haha, very funny,' she said, swallowing. 'That's what I'm saying.'
          'What?'
          'I mean-'
          'Wait a minute,' I said. My head raced with thinking of it. 'You mean, you are married-'
          Clare looked despondent. 'I was going to tell you before- before-'
          'Clare, what's your surname?'
          She bit her lip. 
          'I'm going to start going after more married women,' I smiled, holding her in my arms. 

          'What've you done?' Daisy asked. I could barely see the two figures through the keyhole, but I could make out that the other person was Clare. 
          'I've done something terrible, haven't I?' 
          'Clare, do you love Matt? I mean, honestly?'
          There was an awkward pause. Daisy looked at the door. I sat down, pressing my ear against the door. The floorboard creaked. 'Shit.'
          'Do you- do you hear something?' Daisy asked, narrowing her eyes. I shrunk back to my room before she opened the door with a swift pull. She shut it again cautiously, and I returned to my spot listening in on the conversation. 
          'I don't know whether I love him, or whether I've only been seduced by him,' she sighed. 'I am a married woman,' she said, uneasily. 'I have a duty to my husband. I am bound to him by- by the church, and by my father, and I have broken what I promised.'
          'I ain't no priest, you know, but I know one thing, and that's if you don't love em, don't marry them.'
          'But I did marry him, so now what?'
          'Would you have ditched him for Matt, though? Would you risk everything for the person you love? Would you promise yourself to someone so below yourself despite what everyone would say?'
          'No!'
          'Well you don't love Matt, pure and simple. You've made a mistake; you've had your fun, go back to your husband. Have a nice life.'
          'It's not like that, though!'
          'What is it like, then?'
          'Last night,' Clare said, lowering her voice to say something I couldn't hear. Daisy nodded, and looked anxiously at her. 'That didn't feel the same the night I was married. I wouldn't have felt like that if I didn't at least like him... a lot.'
          'It's all about sex,' Daisy sighed, rolling her eyes. 'Matt has that effect on people.'
          'And why do I feel so guilty?'
          'Because you're a nice girl, and you have a conscience, naturally.'
          'I can't stay here any longer. I have to go back to Lord Atkinson, and I will. I don't love him, but I will.'
          'Agreed. But before you go, take this,' Daisy said, handing Clare a tiny bottle of purple fluid. 
          'What's this for?'
          'If God hates you for what you've done, you'll discover in due course that Matt's probably left you with a present.' I moved back from the door, alarmed.
          'He wasn't inside me. That isn't going to happen.'
          'Save it for your husband, then. Maybe if you go long enough without producing an heir, he'll divorce you and you can come running back here.'
          'That's a horrible thing to suggest!'
          'Maybe so, maybe so,' Daisy replied. 'You've got a pure heart. One day, that might not be the case. Believe me, you'd do anything.'
          'I'm not like you. I never could be.'
          'For that I'm glad. No one deserves a life like mine.'
          I shifted away from the door and onto the dodgy floorboard. This time, I didn't have time to move. 
          'Rat,' Daisy cursed, giving me an evil. 'How much of that did you hear?'
          'Nothing.'
          She pulled me up by the collar and wasn't having any of it. 'How much of that did you hear?'
          'All of it.'
          'You have to make things even more difficult for Clare, don't you?'
          'I love her, and until she's mine, that's what I'm going to do.'

          Clare left, like she said she would. She woke up so many times that night, that each time, I couldn't tell if she couldn't sleep, or if she was getting up to leave. When the sky was getting lighter, however, I caught sight of her putting on her cape. 'Why do I have to lose you forever?'
          'You never had me to begin with,' she replied, sounding like Beatrice. 
          'Can't you just give me a chance?'
          'I'd be swimming against the tide. Forget me, Matt. It was a mistake coming here in the first place.'
          My expression was broken with her words. 'Is that what it was? A mistake?'
          'Yes, and a mistake with consequences,' she said. 'You forgot Beatrice, you can forget me.'
          'Beatrice is what I call a mistake. You can't hide your feelings from me, Clare.'
          'I- I'm not,' she said, her eyes filling with tears. 'I have to go before I change my mind.'
          And after that, I sat there, in my room, for an hour, mentally punishing myself. 

          I ran after her. It may have been too late, but just hanging about hoping to find her and make her turn back was enough to take my mind off the fact that she was gone. Nothing was going through my head except the thought of her, when I heard a shout in one of the alleyways.
          'I know where you went, bitch. Nick spent days looking for you.'
          'I was lost.'
          'You'd obviously found someone when you were kissing Matt in the street!'
          I turned the corner at the mention of my name. Clare stood against the wall, facing Beatrice. 
          'Nick doesn't love you. He poisoned your father so that he could marry you and run off with your money. He knew you would run away. He doesn't want you back. And I helped him.'
          Clare's face burned red with anger. 'It's just as people say about you. You're a scheming whore!'
          Beatrice struck her in the face, stunning Clare for a second. Clare's eyes were red and bloodshot from crying. 'Go back to your bastard. No one else ever wanted you.'
         A fury took over my body. 'Speak for yourself, Beatrice,' I shouted.
        'Oh look. Lover boy's come running after you,' she said, glaring at me with contempt. 'You think I hadn't noticed your latest conquest?'
        'Leave her alone,' I said, grabbing her by the arm. 
        'Why? So she can run back to where she isn't wanted? Nick's sent out word that she's dead, and before long, I'll be Lady Atkinson,' she replied. 
        'Leave her alone, Beatrice,' I said, throwing my arm around her neck. Out of her hand came a dagger to my head. 
        'I'll kill you,' she screamed, her hand trembling. 'I'll fucking kill the both of you!'
        I squeezed my arm tighter around her neck and clasped her wrist, bringing it down. 'Put it down, Beatrice,' I said, faking calm. 
        She dropped the dagger, falling to the ground, sobbing. 'You're fucking mad,' I said. 'You deserve to be put in a madhouse.'
        At that, her shoulders tensed. She spun around, the blade running past my face. Clare stood glued to the ground. I ran my hand past my face, and saw the blood running from my palms, down my wrist. I caught the dagger from her hands and held it to her neck. Clare protested. 'Matt, let her go! She hasn't done anything!'
       I looked at Clare's pleading eyes, and at Beatrice. 'Kill me, Matt. What do I care?' she said. 'You'll never get her from Nick. I know that far too well.'
       'It's a pity Jack isn't here to see his real mother,' I whispered. 'I'm sure he'd appreciate seeing you meet your end where you belong.' 
       She had barely taken a breath, when the blade penetrated her skin. Clare cried out as Beatrice's lifeless body fell to the floor. Suddenly, I realised that I had to run. I ran to Clare, kissing her. 'Find me,' I said. She nodded. 
       It was a few seconds before someone in the street raised the alarm, shouting for all of London. 'Murder in the alley,' he shouted. 'There's a murder in the alley!'

Clare
	I ran as fast as I could, away from the murder scene. I didn’t want to be associated with Beatrice’s death. I tried my best to conceal my features with the green cape and ran back to my home. I knew for a fact that when I was going to arrive home, Nick would be ready to kill and possibly drunk. But what I said to Daisy was true; he was my husband. 
	When I reached my fathers home, the one that was now Nicks; I noticed that it looked neglected. 
	“Clare” Nick screamed as he saw me standing outside the door. I smiled just to be polite, but I just knew that I didn’t want to be here. “We’ve you been? I’ve been looking for you everywhere” He wondered as he planted a few kisses onto my lips.
	“I went to see a friend of mine. They knew my father” When I mentioned the word father he nodded in acceptance and brought me into a strong hug. 
	“I need a bath” I finally broke off and Nick smiled.
	“I’ll get one of the maids to do it.” He seemed to be asking too much from them. It wasn’t like anyone could complain; he was now in charge.
	He shouted to one of the only maids on duty and she nodded in request and made her way inside. 
	“I saw someone like you, not long ago.” Nick informed me and brought my inside. Holding my hand tightly.
	“Really?” I answered like I didn’t have a clue.
	“Yes, she was with that painter of yours. Quite rude to be honest. Couldn't possibly be you,' he said, planting another kiss on my head. I smiled weakly, glancing at my hands, which were white and shaking. 'My mind must have gone away with me,' he said. 
            'Yes?' I said, not listening. The emerald ring on my ring finger was gone- I fumbled anxiously around for it. I founnd that it was on a gold chain around my neck. Nick was being curiously civil today, and I convinced myself that I was safer here than I was with Matt. He was also being more affectionate, but I could see through the kisses and the hugs. It felt more like acts of duty than acts of lust. 
            'Are you ill?' he said, staring intently at my face. I shook my head. 
            'No- I'm fine. I- I think I'll take that bath tomorrow. I need to sleep.'
            He nodded once, and let me out of the room without grabbing my waist and asking for full blown drunken sex, for once. I ran from him and slammed the door behind me, sinking on the bed. I sat up, my stained cape leaving the sheets black and dusty. I took the bottle that Daisy had given me from my pocket. Do I drink this, or not, I thought, fiddling with the cork. It had no label. Maybe she's trying to poison me like they poisoned my father, I thought. 
           No, my head snapped. As suspicious as Daisy might seem, I know she would have neither the heart, nor the brain to do that. And I need to get rid of Matt. 
           The liquid tasted like rot. I dropped the bottle to the floor, feeling it rise up my throat again. How she could tolerate such a thing, I didn't know. All I could do was look at myself in the mirror, and resist the urge to burst into tears at everything that had passed between myself and that painter. 

           'Miss? Miss!' the maid shouted, drawing the curtains. I pulled the covers further up over my head and didn't want to surface into the light. 'Isn't it about time you were awake, Miss?'
           'Why- what time is it?'
           'It's gone a quarter past nine, Miss,' she said, taking the covers from me. 'Now, your father would never abide such idleness, even if that man does,' she said. Hannah, one of the younger maids, had grown up in this house as I did, and had an unreserved hatred for my husband, which was not helped by the fact that he had tried to grope her twice. 'I can't blame you for wanting to stay in bed, mind.'
           'My father is dead,' I said, bitterly. I prised my eyes open, which were glued shut from crying myself to sleep. I noticed Douglas hanging about by the door with that look about his face. Anyone would think that he was up to something if they saw his eyes. Hannah caught sight of him. 'What?'
           'Has anyone seen Beatrice?'
           'No, she hasn't been here for two days. Lazy shirking cow. Has that kid of hers been screaming bloody murder again?'
           I gasped at the mention of Beatrice, and murder. Douglas rolled his eyes. The sound of Jack's crying reverberated around the corridor to no end. 'Someone please shut him up!' 
           Hannah sighed, rolling up her sleeves. 'I'll deal with it.'
           As soon as Hannah was gone, Douglas moved into my room, closing the door behind him. I was scared of what Hannah might think if she came back seeing me alone in my room with him. 'You know what happened, don't you?'
           My eyes scanned his face. I wondered if I could trust him. 'I don't know what you mean.'
           'You do. Beatrice was killed by the painter.'
           'What? Beatrice is alive,' I said, trying to hide the panic that ran through me. 'If she was dead, I think Nick might know about it.'
           'And he'll know, unless you do one thing for me.'
           'I don't care if he knows. What would I care what happens to the painter-'
           'I know you love him,' he interrupted, creeping up behind me and twisting a lock of my hair in his fingers. I gave him no reply. 
           'I know where he's hiding. He will hang for what he's done, unless you do one thing,' he said, placing a hand on my shoulder. 
           'Don't touch me!' I cried. 'I never thought I'd be at the mercy of you.'
           'No one ever thinks that,' he sneered. 'To them, I'm still a child. I see nothing, hear nothing, and say nothing. Except when I can bend people's minds.'
           'What do you want from me? I can give you money if you tell no one.'
           'I don't want money.'
           'What do you want? I'll give you anything if you make sure Matt doesn't get hurt.'
           'Anything?'
           I prayed he wasn't going to trick me. 'Yes, anything,' I said. Everything hinged on what he was going to ask of me. 
           'I want what's under your skirts.'

Matt
	I didn’t tell Daisy anything and I didn’t say goodbye. I felt like I should have seen as she had looked after me for all my life, but I just couldn’t bring myself to say it to her. I’d feel too guilty.  I wasn’t so much feeling guilty at this present moment in time, more heartbroken. Clare knew her feelings for me were pretty clear, but chose to ignore them. 
	I ran as fast as my hurting legs could take me, gripping tightly onto the green bag with all my belongings. I barely had time to collect everything; it would have taken me more than 10 minutes. I didn’t even have time to collect a spare pair of clothes. This was going to be a nightmare. 
	“Its him” I heard someone shout and I saw two strong looking men running after me. Now to say I was healthy was a bit of an understatement. I was actually far from it. The two men caught up with me quite easier than expected and I cried out in pain as they both hit me to the floor.	
	“He’s the one that did it” I heard a small patronizing voice say. “He’s the one that killed Beatrice” I finally heard Dougie scream and I just wanted to kill him.
	“I didn’t do it. You can’t prove it” I screamed back at him trying to bring it to my defense.
	“You were the last one seen with her” One of the two men screamed down my ear. 'Thanks to this boy, you'll be put to justice.'
	“You’re hurting me”
	“It makes no difference to you anymore. Its prison for you” The other man informed me as he pulled me off the floor.
	“Prison? I’ve done nothing wrong. There’s no reason for me to go”
            'If he's lucky, it's prison,' the other man grinned. 'If not, it's the hanging. And you know how much we like the hanging.'

            'Let me see him,' shouted a shrill voice at the gate. 'Let me in!'
            'You're feisty today,' a guard laughed. 'I didn't let you in three days ago; I didn't let you in yesterday. What brings you back today, or am I really that good looking?'
            'I need to see him. Matthew Willis. He's in here, isn't he?'
            'Men can't get in 'ere. What makes you think we'll let in a woman? Prisons ain't lettin' in anybody.'
            'You'll wish you hadn't have said that!'
            'Why, what're you gonna do? Throw your plants at me? Hey, Ed, guess whose back? Its little flower girl!' The two guards laughed. Daisy had become a joke amongst the men guarding the prison gates, who thought calling her 'flower girl' would be ironic, when they could clearly work out what she, did for a living from her clothes. From the tiny, barred window, I could see that her face was bright red from her hurt pride. 'You'll wish you hadn't ever spoken to me. I'll be back, but next time, it won't be through the gates.' 
            'Women like you deserve to be in the prison yourselves,' he continued. 'That'll be the day, you selling flowers from your window. Oh wait. I forgot. Flowers don't grow in prisons.'
            They laughed again, so loud that everyone near a window looked out. 'Daisy,' I sighed, shaking my head. 

            'Hey! Wake up!' Daisy's voice hissed, putting some keys down by my feet. 
            'How did you get in?'
            'By growing a dick,' she said. As I opened my eyes, I could see that she was wearing my clothes and was hiding her long hair under a hat. Strangely, she looked more feminine as a guy, without all the make up. 'They can't flower girl me,' she laughed. 
            'If you're coming to get me out of here, don't,' I said, lying on my back and looking at the grey stone ceiling. 
            'But you're innocent, Matt.'
            'Who told you that? I'm in deep shit, Daisy. I put the knife to her skin, and right now there's a lot of people who know it.'
            Daisy seemed hurt by what I said. 'I never imagined you capable of that, Matt.'
            'Yeah, well I've done it now. It's all because I ran after that stupid girl-'
            'Clare?'
            'Yes, Clare.' There was silence. 
            'Do you remember when we were kids, we went begging by the gallows at Moorfields, and we saw a man hanging there? His body hadn't been taken down for eight days, and you said you didn't know why anyone would want to commit a crime if they died like that? We're not kids anymore, and we're not doing any begging. And the next time, that's going to be your body,' she said. Daisy never cried, but that time, she was close. 'There's a girl out there who loves you, and you're just going to give up on yourself like that? She doesn't even know you're in this wretched place. What you did was bad, but what you're going to do to that girl's worse.'
            'You tell her, then. Tell her that I take back that I ever said I loved her, because I'm dying for it now. It's all worthless.'
            'If that's how you feel, go ahead. Kick the fucking bucket. At least know that she loves you before you do.'
            'And how do you know that?'
            'I don't, but I'll tell her you're here and I'll find out.'
            I was quick to interrupt. 'Don't.'
            'I'll see you at the gallows,' Daisy replied, taking the keys and locking me in. I drew a hangman in the dust on the floor with crosses for eyes, and a gravestone beside. 'Matt Willis. Hung for all the right reasons.'

Clare
	A violent knocking broke my train of thoughts. No one had visited for the past two days and I was getting worried that something was wrong. Little did I know what it was. I set for one of the maids to answer; I couldn’t bring myself to move from the position. I heard Nick scream some abuse to the person at the door. The yelling grew louder as I saw a petite run into the living quarters.
	“Tell him to leave me alone!” I heard the voice say and I chose to ignore them. “Clare, I need to speak you its important” They grabbed my arm tightly.  For the brief moment the voice sounded familiar, yet the voice didn’t match the face. I was torn to accept that this person whoever it may be needed to speak to me.
	“It’s ok Nick. I know who they are.” I finally breathed and the person smiled.
	“Are you sure? I don’t want anyone here if you don’t wish for them to be”
	“Yes its fine. This is the friend I was telling you about. The one I spoke to about my father” He seemed to understand. “If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to be alone with my friend” 
	“No, no it’s fine. I’ll leave you to it” He blew me a kiss and shut the door.
	“Who are you and what do you want?” I asked and the figure removed the hat.
	“Its me Daisy” Once I saw her hair cascade onto her shoulders I knew.
	“What are you doing here?” I asked her quite rudely.
	“Matt” She sighed softly; she knew it was a touchy subject.
	“I don’t want anything to do with him. Just please let me live without having to worry about him. I took the purple stuff isn’t that enough for you?”
	She stood in the doorway. “Clare I know you love him. Stop fooling yourself.”
	“I don’t love him. It was only a bit of fun. Even he said that.”
	“No he never you’re lying. Anyway just here my out.” She paused briefly. “Matt he’s in prison. I think- no. I know he’s going to hang.”
            I could hide my emotions from Daisy no longer. The denial of the past days had backfired on me. Daisy stared at me as if the tears now running down my cheeks would drown me. 'The bastard told them!'
            'Someone snitched on Matt?'
            I suddenly feared that Daisy would blame me, and started sobbing again. She looked guilty. 'I didn't mean it like that! But Clare, who did you tell?'
            'I didn't tell anybody!'
            'Who told on Matt? You mean there was a witness?'
            My heart and head told me things that contradicted each other. 'I don't know!'
            'Clare, tell me who.'
            'I said that I don't know!'
            'Clare, tell me who told on Matt!'
            Daisy had a way of getting things out of people. I wasn't used to being spoken to like that before. 'His name is Douglas. He works for my husband and he saw everything.'
            'Where is he?'
            'He comes and goes. He slips out of the house whenever.'
            'Come with me and find him.'
            'What?'
            'He's got Matt killed, I'm going to see that he gets what's coming to him!'
            'Daisy-'
            'Are you coming with me, or not?'
	“Yes, I suppose; I mean. I don’t know” I sighed heavily and stopped. “I don’t see why I have to be brought into this. I’ve told you, why don’t you go alone?”
	“Because if you loved Matt, even it be so small no one but he could see it. You’d at least help me. Matt doesn’t deserve to be hung. Beatrice deserved everything she had coming to her and you know that.” The Beatrice hatred seemed to be growing on a lot more people. 
	“Fine, I’ll come, but it’s only because I want what’s coming to Dougie.” I finally breathed and Daisy smiled. She knew the real reason.
	We both looked at each other and nodded. It was now a mission; to find Dougie and give him what he deserved. 
	“Nick” I spoke as I saw him sitting, looking dramatically out of the window. 
	“Yes, my sweet” I shuddered.
	“I’m going for a little walk my friend here. I hope you don’t mind” I looked at that space in his eyes, which would soften his feelings for anything I wanted.
	“But,” He began, but I cut him off.
	“I will be back before sunlight.” I smiled and took his head. “I’ll be fine” I smiled once more and kissed his lips. He seemed ok with the idea.
	I brought a spare cape out for Daisy; it was for her to keep warm and used another for myself.
	“I haven’t a clue where he’d be” I told Daisy truthfully as we fled out of the house gardens.
	“I have the distinct feeling he’ll be near Matt. I reckon he’s there to seek revenge.” She stopped “Thing is though, I don’t suspect you’ll get in like that. It took me four days and even then I had to dress in his clothes. Hence why I’m like this.”  So that was why she was them clothes.
	“I can’t go back now. Nick’ll know something’s not right.” 
	She sighed. “Right, well then I suppose you’ll have to wear something of Matt’s. He didn’t take much with him”. 
	“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Not after what happened”
	“It’s his clothes Clare, not him” She giggled brightly and took my hand; Running off in the direction of their home. 

	“Here take them. I’m sure they’ll fit you” She smiled and threw me a few items of Matt’s clothing.
	“I can’t believe I’m doing this” I sighed.
	“Because you want to help him Clare” Daisy smiled and offered help when trying to get out the ridiculous corset. His clothes seemed so baggy. I suppose that was a good thing, the prison guards wouldn’t be able to see both mine and Daisy feminine complexities. 
	“There, happy?” I finally breathed as I placed on the final piece of clothing.
	“No one will know its you” She smiled and immediately brought me out of the house. “If we are going to do this right, we’ll need to do it quick. You go and see Matt and I’ll try my best to find Dougie. I gave Matt some keys, but I don’t suppose he’s used them yet. I know what’s he’s like; very stubborn.” I suppose the brief description of Dougie’s appearance was all that she needed. 
	“Daisy, I really don’t want to see him. I’m helping him yes, but that’s all I’m doing”
	“I don’t care. You will see him and make his day ok?”
	I sighed.
	“That’s it then. Plans sorted”
	We both ran threw the crowds, hitting the villagers as we went past. No one seemed to care really; they must be too used to it. I didn’t expect the run to be so long. I’d of thought that the prison would be quite close, but o no. It seemed like miles. I stopped as I saw Daisy speak to one of the prison guards, causing a few rows as she did, but once they saw me in a sorry state; they let me threw.
	“I’ll go find him” Daisy mumbled and pushed me threw.

	“Matt” I softly breathed on his skin as I saw him fast asleep.
	His eyes flickered open and when he saw it was me; he raged.
	“Get out!” He screamed and I tried my best to calm him down. “I don’t wanna speak to you.”
	“Are you trying to cause trouble? Because if you keep shouting, that’s what’s going to happen” He stopped.
	“I don’t care anymore. There’s no where for me to go. I’m done for if anyone seems I’m out”
	“Why don’t you just get out with the keys? Daisy’s done too much for you and you can’t just repay her like this. She’s your best friend. Actually no, she’s been like a mother.” I made him feel guilty.
	“I’d do it for Daisy, but not for you. Why are you here anyway?” 
	“Daisy asked me to.” 
	“Shouldn’t you be with Nick, your husband?”
	“That’s not fair” I sighed and sat down on the cold floor.
	“Then what is? Because from the looks of it. You did all the squealing not me. I know Dougie works for Nick; I bet you told him didn’t you.”
	“Nick knows nothing and I didn’t tell Dougie anything. He saw that’s how he knows. He saw” He ignored me. “He tried to sleep with me you know. I’d give him anything if he didn’t snitch on you; anything. And he asked for sex, but I declined.” He looked at me quite angry. “So, he told. I didn’t expect it to be like that, but I wasn’t sleeping with him, not now; not ever” 
	He grabbed me by the throat and brought me violently towards the wall. I could sense he was angry.
	“You could have slept with him.” He hissed into my face.
	“I wasn’t going to sleep with him, it was never the answer.”
	“And this is?” He referred to his surroundings.
	“No of course not. Nothing this bad is good enough for you. You deserve better” I told him truthfully, but he still wasn’t going to back down.
	“THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE FUCKING SLEPT WITH HIM. YOU COULD AT LEAST FORGET ABOUT THAT. BUT NOW I HAVE TO DIE” He spat at me and now I just felt like that everything we had shared together was worthless.
	“Matt, I love you.” His hand was still firmly planted on my throat. I said it again “I love you” I finally breathed and his grip loosened. I feel to the floor as the last bit of breath escaped my mouth.
	“What did you just say?”
	“I said; I love you” I told him as I looked into his eyes, but instead he gave me a nasty blow to the face with his shoe.
	“You deserve that” He finally breathed and sat on the make shift bed.
	I took the hat from around my head off violently and threw it.
	“You can help yourself. I take back everything I said. I hate you.” I spat back him and turned to leave. I did actually expect for him to stop me but he didn’t. I left him sobbing silently.
	When leaving the prison I saw Daisy standing there with a big smile on her face; she must have sorted Dougie out.
	“Clare. What happened?” Daisy asked me as she saw the big bruise irrupt from around my eye. I didn’t answer.
	“Oi!” I heard one the prison guards and I turned around. “You’re not his brother. You're female” He hissed and tried his best to catch up with me, but I ran. Daisy seemed to be following behind. Once we both saw the prison guards slow down and retreat; we hid in a clearing.
	“Are you going to explain or what?” She asked me for the second time and I removed any piece of clothing from around my body.
	“I tried to explain to him that I wanted to help. He got violent and kicked me in the face.”
	Daisy gasped. 
	“I even told him I loved him.” She smiled. “But now you’re on your own” I stood up.
	“You can’t make me do it alone. They won’t believe me, you have better chance.” 
	“I couldn’t care less. I want my clothes” I told her sternly, yet she tried to persuade me to carry on.
	“I said I want my clothes” She sighed, there was no way I was going to say anything else.
	She took me back to were I had left my clothes and handed them to me sadly. 
	“I just want you to help me Clare, I can’t do it alone. Matt cant die” She began to cry and I left her. I put on my clothes and left.

Matt
	Guilt ridden and heartbroken was the only two emotions I was feeling right now. I can’t believe I kicked her in the face. I suppose that’s what being locked up in prison does to you; I couldn’t tell. There was no chance of me getting out now, the only reason I wanted to leave and that was because of Clare. I knew there was Daisy, but I don’t know. I just wanted Clare. 
	“Tomorrow afternoon” The guard laughed as he walked past.
	“What?”
	“Tomorrow afternoon you’re in for it. Haven’t you heard?” 
	“In for what? I don’t understand.” I could tell that this wasn’t as good as it sounded.
	“You and another lad. Both done for murder, both of you are getting hung. In the square.” He laughed and my face fell. I didn’t expect it to be so soon, someone must have said something. 
	“I didn’t do it though” I shouted and he just smiled.
	“That’s what they all say. At least you ain't alone, is all I can say.” 
            He walked off as if I wasn't there. Two other guards came up the stairs. They looked as if they'd ran from somewhere, and spoke in panicky whispers. Inmates who had heard what they said shook the bars, terrified, and asked if they could be let out. The guards debated amongst themselves whether to let them out, and one of them was shaking as he took the key from his pocket, and unlocked the cell. 'Hey!' I shouted. 'Why're you letting them out?'
           'All of your on this floor can go,' he said, hastily opening all of the cells. 'If anyone asks, you got out yourself. We ain't getting into trouble even when we're dead.'
           'What makes you say that?' I asked, as he flung the door open. 
           'There's-'
           A prisoner hollered out to me. 'What're you standing there for? There's a fire south of the river and it's heading here next!'
           'Huh?' I ran to a window and looked out. The blackening sky was tinged with lurid orange flames about a quarter of a mile from where I was standing. People were running in droves towards the bridges leading out of the city, which looked as if they might burst with the crowds. Most of the gates from the city were so packed, people started climbing over the walls keeping them in as if, like us, they were prisoners trying to get free. There was no hope in the world that I would get out alive now, but it was worth a shot. 
           The gates of the prison were still locked. I climbed down the steps and outside, and saw that what the guards had said wasn't true. Hundreds of freed prisoners were fighting for space and helping each other to climb up the seemingly endless iron gates. The few members of the public still lingering on the surrounding streets crossed the road, frightened that we might all come out and stab them, or worse in their eyes, rob them. 
           I found a space where I could see out through the bars of the gates. My bare feet gripped on to them, and my arms hauled me up. I was being squashed on either side by two guys about twice the size of me, forcing me to go up and over. As I reached the top, I slipped, feeling something stab into my side. I flung myself over and jumped down, my body numbed by the pain. I ran on, convincing myself that it was nothing, and that the stinging would subside. 
          It didn't. I ran into someone, collapsing onto the ground. I couldn't summon the strength to stand up. 'Fucking hell!' I cursed, putting my hand to the wound. It was as if someone had stabbed me a thousand times and drawn the blade further up the wound, dragging out my insides. I took my hand away. It was covered in blood. 
         'Matt?' I heard a familiar voice say. 

Clare

         'Matt?' I said, rushing down beside him. I got him to stand up and walked into an abandoned house, away from the fire. The blood started pouring out of him again, staining the whole left side of his shirt bright red. I looked away from it and put my arm around his shoulder. The wound wasn't very big, but it was deep, as if he had undergone some long drawn torture on the end of a pike. I felt sick thinking about it. I wasn't one for blood. 
         'Fuck's sake don't make me stand up, woman!' he cried out, slipping out of my arms. I grabbed him again, dragging him down in a corner. 'What happened?'
         'I, slipped,' he said. He slumped down onto his back. I tore off part of my skirt and wrapped it around him as a bandage because I couldn't stand looking at his wound. It soaked in blood almost immediately. I ripped off the bottom of one of my underskirts. 'I slipped on the spikes getting out.'
        I understood what he meant. I looked out of the window at the gates of the prison. The long, pointed spikes at the top did what they were meant to do by injuring whoever decided to sabotage them. I shuddered at the thought of being caught on one of them, as Matt had. 
       'I'm sorry about earlier.'
       'It was nothing,' I said, watching him in the dark there. He sat up. I pushed him down. 'Lie down, that way we won't end up with puddles!'
       He laughed. His breathing was strained. 'I'm going to die, aren't I?'
       'No, you're not. Stop talking crap. We're safe here. The fire's only spreading slowly.'
       'Not from the fire, you idiot!' he said. 'Well, not now anyway. I'd die sooner from this.'
       'You're not going to die. Stop exaggerating,' I said, although I was scared that at any moment, he might give way. 
       'Even if I survive this, I'm still a criminal after the fire.' 
       There was silence. I got up and started walking around nervously. The air around the room became thicker and more smoky. 'Shit. The fire's spreading,' I said. I looked up at the fragile wooden roof. A fountain of sparks jumped from another house, causing some of the roof to catch. 'Matt!'
       He didn't respond. I shook him gently by his shoulders. 'Matt, can you hear me?' His eyes were firmly shut. I held his hand, gripping it tightly. 'Matt, squeeze my hand if you can hear me.' This, he did. 'We have to get out of here, Matt. I'm not leaving without you.'
      I pulled him over to the door, only to find that a fallen beam was in the way. 'This isn't happening to me,' I cried. The gap underneath the beam was big enough for me to struggle out, but I knew that I wouldn't be able to get Matt through it. Something inside told me not to leave him.  
     Matt's grip on my hand loosened. I choked back my tears and some of the smoke. 'Please, don't let me go,' I said. 'Hold on, please!' I cried. The tears ran down from my cheek onto his. 'Jack needs you. He'll have nobody if you go. Daisy needs you. Actually, that isn't true, you need her more than she needs you, but she was up in her head about you today,' I said, smiling. 'And I need you, Matt, more than anything else,' I said. 'Matt, if you can hear me, just try.'
     I laid down beside him. 'I love you,' I whispered, as the world seemed to cave in on us. 
	
	I heard him shuffle as I saw him awaken from his deep sleep. After the abandoned house had collapsed he grew unconscious so it was just me to help with the survival of us both. I suppose it worked, well thanks to the help from Nick. His eyes opened slowly and I could sense that he didn’t have a clue where he was. He moved.
	“Don’t. It’ll make it worse” I told him softly and he winched as he felt his side, just to remember what had actually happened.  His side was cleanly bandaged. 
	“It hurts” He scowled angrily and sighed. “You should have just left me”
	“I’m not letting go that easily.” I told him truthfully
	“I’m a criminal, criminals are meant to die.”
	“You did the right thing. You know fine well that Beatrice would have hurt one of us both and if not us; someone else” He nodded in reassurance. “Besides, I didn’t want Jack to have no family.”
	“He would have had you”
	“No he wouldn’t. Nick wouldn’t have a crying baby in the house, especially if it did not belong to one of us. He would have given it up straight away” I told him truthfully. Nick wasn’t in this relationship to have children. 
	“I don’t want to be associated with a child that has an excuse for a mother”
	“Matt please don’t make the mistake. Jack needs a father; he needs someone to look after him. And I can’t keep doing that.”
	“He seems fine with you. He treats you like you are his mother. I’m sure he doesn’t know the difference”
	“He isn’t naïve. Every young child knows who there mother is.”
	“Except me” Matt sighed and tried to move; he really didn’t listen to when I said ‘don’t move’
	“You’re not young Matt”
	“Why am I here anyway?” He asked as he noticed the familiar surroundings.
	“Nick found us. I told him not to leave you” I smiled and brought the hair from around his eyes.
	“Did he suggest to?”
	“Yes, thought you were a waste of space” I giggled softly “But I declined and he brought you back” I smiled at him.
	“Does he know?”
	“Know?” I asked him as he spoke quietly.
	“About the whole Beatrice situation”
	“No, He never will. Unless Dougie”
	He stopped speaking for what seemed like ages. I suppose he was thinking about Dougie and what would happen if he told. Dougie was too scared to say anything, well, after what Daisy had said to him. She seemed to have scared him an awful lot.  
            'I just- why you, Matt?'
            He seemed annoyed. 'Why what?'
            'They never think about the person behind the crime, they never see behind the eyes which have given in. There are a thousand stories for a thousand criminals, but to everyone else, they are all the same.'
            'Yeah, and I wish you would see that too. I haven't got much time left, Clare. They'll still be out there, looking for me. There's a chance that I'm still alive, and they're going to take that. I've survived only to be bloody taken away again.'
            'Don't say that.' He opened his mouth to speak again. 'Don't say a word,' I said, placing my head next to his. As I watched his eyes close, an image inside my head forced me to keep my eyes open, to stop me blinking tears. 
  
            I looked first at Nick, and then at Dougie. Matt didn't struggle to get away from the two men who had come to take him. 'Why are you doing this to me?'
            'You think I'm not suffering because of him?' Nick slammed his fist into the wall, tears in his bloodshot eyes. 'Because of him, Beatrice is dead,' he shouted, pushing me into the wall. He almost scared me into crying. Matt looked down at his feet. 'Take him away,' Nick ordered. 'I don't want to see his face ever again until his head's on a pike along London Bridge.'
            Dougie grinned. I wanted to attack him, but Hannah held me back forcefully, pulling me into a chair. I shouted several swear words to him in succession. 'He didn't murder her,' I cried. 'He didn't!'
            'We have the proof from this young man, Miss,' one of the men said, pointing to Dougie and attempting to sound sympathetic. 'He was there when it happened.'
            'But he's your only witness, so how can you prove that Matt killed her? He lies!' I screamed. 'I know that too well.'
            'All other evidence we had is lost,' he replied. 'The only other witness died in the fire.'
            'Well then you know nothing, sir,' I said, 'because he didn't murder Beatrice.' I lowered my voice. 'I did.'
            Matt frowned at me. 'I know what you're going to do,' he said, still in the guards' clutches. 'Don't.'
            'Jack needs you,' I said. The men glanced at each other, and then at me, confused. 'Nobody needs me.'

            November 1666
            The sky was a sullen blue. The sun made no attempt to push through the blackening clouds, as I made no attempt to run away from my fate. My hands and feet were numbed so by the cold, that I had to be pushed violently out onto the platform. The man who pushed me had an unforgiving face, as blank and indifferent to emotion as a statue. 'You can't run now,' he mumbled, as if he had other things on his mind. He gestured at me to step up onto the platform. I ran up. I wanted this to be done with quickly. 
            There were a few patronising whispers from the back rows, mainly from ladies who looked at me with shock and impassiveness, or who had seen my portrait. I wanted desperately to hide my face from the scores of people looking directly at me. The ones who had caught my eye swiftly turned their gaze, to avoid seeming insensitive, or to avoid looking at a criminal. I smiled back. There was no point being mournful at my end, or at how people would remember me for a time. After all, people get hung every other day. I was no different to any of them. 
             But I was a woman. A weak, emotional woman, incapable of doing harm to another human being where a man could. Or so it seemed. The blood rushed to my cheeks as the whispers got louder. She's hardly a person, let alone a murderer. She couldn't hurt a fly. Women do not kill.
             However, this one had killed, or had convinced people that she had, anyway. There was one person who knew otherwise, who was not present. I glanced around, and when I found that he was not in the crowd, I lowered my head. At that moment, a voice shouted at me. 'Clare!'
             The sound of the crowd turning their heads penetrated into the empty silence in the air. I looked up, and saw Matt. Jack was stood next to him, holding Daisy's hand. He could walk now. I opened my mouth to speak, but was nudged again by the executioner in black. The black reminded me of the night in the labyrinth. I forgot to tell Matt that I knew it was him right from that first kiss. 
             A woman screamed when she saw me approach the ropes. The whispers became widespread shouting when the crowd realized the full nature of what was going to happen. 'The lady hangs!' the executioner shouted, pulling my long hair back. He asked me to remove the ruby pendant from around my neck, which my mother had meant me never to touch until I was eighteen. Since I would never see that day, I wore it. 
           Over the shouts of everybody, was Daisy's voice. 'She's a girl. She doesn't deserve this!' she shouted. I then looked to Matt, and kept my eyes on his face for the last time. The rope was tied tightly in a loop around my neck, squeezing every last breath out of me. 
           I waited for the drop beneath my feet. I watched Matt's eyes scan my face. Jack began to cry. His father picked him up, but didn't silence him. The seconds went by like hours in my mind. I looked to Jack. Now you have somebody, I thought. 
          I could have heard a pin drop, before feeling a sharp tug around my neck. The drop had taken me by surprise. I felt as if I had been robbed of the time to say everything that I wanted to say. I tried to blank out all that was happening by making my mind say things to myself. I'll never leave you, I repeated in my head, hoping Matt would hear me. 
          In the last few seconds, I felt empty and alone, despite everyone's eyes on me. I sensed my heartbeat petering out with my existence. And after that, I was free to soar, like a caged bird unleashed into the sky.