In the early hours of the morning, Leah Manston liked to watch the city wake up.

She knelt on a wooden chair in front of her window, a blanket draped over her shoulders to keep out the chill. The factory chimneys were coming alive, small plumes of smoke spiralling into the sky and merging with the pink clouds and rising sunlight. On the street below, people began their walks to work.

Men in soot-covered clothing meandered through the city. The lamplighters were out to extinguish the still-burning oil that illuminated the previously darkened streets. Curtains were thrown up in windows, maids stepped out of their front doors to head out to the bakery or butchers. Police officers patrolled the streets. The sleeping city was alive once again.

Leah climbed off the chair and shed the blanket. Goosebumps formed on her bare arms as the frigid chill of winter hit her skin. She ran her hands over her arms to fight off the chill as a soft knock at the door caught her attention.

"Enter," Leah said. She turned, watching the door handle twist and the wooden door fling open. "Good morning, Emma."

The maid offered her a small curtsy. "I did not expect to see you out of bed so early, Miss."

"I was just watching the city. There is something calming about a sleeping city. Do you not agree?"

"I do, Miss." Emma smiled, a soft comforting smile that always filled Leah with warmth on a wintry morning. "Shall we dress you for the day?"

"If we must. How is Mother?"

Emma stepped further into the room and closed the door behind her. "She is to stay in bed today. Her headaches have returned once more. Anna is looking after her."

"So I shall be spending the day with Father." She sighed. "I suppose he wishes to take me into the city despite the threats."

"I believe so. He mentioned as much. We shall dress you for the weather rather than your father's plans for you."

Leah nodded and perched on the edge of her bed, watching Emma as she crossed to the dresser and began to pull out her clothes for the day. Although old enough to dress herself, and wishing for the privacy she thought she deserved as a young woman, Leah enjoyed Emma's company.

A little while later, Leah emerged from her bedroom dressed in wool stockings, a simple blue dress, and a pair of black boots. Her dark hair had been pulled up into a knot, with a few strands having already escaped the pins. She had a pair of grey gloves and a grey shawl in hand as she descended the creaking staircase to the hall below. Her father, a tall greying man of forty, stood by the front door, his pocket watch in hand. Time, he always said, was a man's most important tool.

He looked up as Leah joined him by the front door. A small smile danced on his lips and he took a hold of one of the small ringlets that curled around her chin. She batted his hand away as he tugged on the curl and let it spring back into place. He still treated her like a child, the apple of his eye and the most important thing to him. Leah wished he would let her become the young lady she was supposed to be.

"Must we go into the city this morning?" Leah said, pulling on her gloves. "I would much rather stay in the house. It is far warmer here."

"Unfortunately, we must. I have work to do and you cannot spend all your time shut up in your room. It does not do you any good."

"Being out there won't do you any good either. They still haven't caught him."

"The Constables have stepped up their patrols around the city. Besides, whoever it is hasn't struck in weeks. We will be quite safe."

"If you say so," Leah said under her breath.

"We can stop by your favourite bakery on the way. How about that?"

She huffed. "Fine."

Leah wrapped her shawl over her shoulders as her Father opened the door, gesturing her through. She stepped over the threshold. The bitter chill of the Winter morning hit her immediately, as did the noise of the now-living city.

Gone was the silence of the morning Leah had watched from her bedroom window. Carriages trundled over the cobblestones. Market stalls were setting up for the trade ahead, and the smoke from the factories filled the sky above them. The smell of the Thames travelled on the wind, as did the choking smoke that oftentimes made it impossible to breathe. This was the London that Leah tolerated.

Even with her father's job as owner of a cotton mill, Leah despised the smoke that filled the air during the day. She hated the suffocating feeling that fell over her during the day, hated the way the smoke would creep in through the open windows in the summer.

Leah and her father moved through the city, passing the police that patrolled the streets at every hour of the day. They unnerved her. Whenever she passed them, a chill went down her spine. She kept close to her father, just in case.

When they reached the bakery, all thoughts about the police were forgotten. The smell of freshly baked bread and the cakes that she loved so much made her stomach growl with hunger. Her father purchased two buns, one for each of them. It had always been their little treat, a secret kept from Leah's mother on the days when her headaches would overwhelm her.

"Right," her father said, confectioner's sugar falling onto his suit jacket, "I need to collect some paperwork from the office."

"Do I have to come with you? Can I not just look at the market stalls? You know how much I hate going to the factory."

"I know you do, but I cannot have you wandering through the city on your own. If Emma were with you, I would allow it, but she's not."

"But—"

"No, Leah. Don't worry, we'll have fun together."

Leah doubted it very much. She wished Emma had come with them. There was nothing she hated more than having to spend her day at the factory, but Emma had work to do. Given the opportunity, she would have preferred to stay at home and read her books, but her mother said that having her around somehow made her headaches worse.

From a darkened alleyway, a loud shriek cut through the usual sounds of the city. Leah's head snapped to the left, in the direction of the scream. A police officer who had been standing nearby sprinted off, slipping into an alleyway as other men followed. Several seconds later, his whistle rang out and echoed through the near-silent streets. Leah gripped her father's arm, her nails piercing the wool of her gloves.

She heard the sound of footsteps on the cobblestones beside her. Leah turned her head away from the alley and to the young man who had joined them, staring into the darkness of the alley.

"Another one, do you reckon?" the man said.

"I hope not," Leah's father muttered, shaking his head.

"If it is, that'll make six." The man shook his head. "Poor bugger."

"There really are some cruel people out there."

"Well, it's like Shakespeare said: Hell is empty and all the devils are here."

~~~

First Published - February 1st, 2023