chapter 2; a calling

                                        

                                              
Living in Lambeth had always been a stark reminder to you of the community you had belonged to your whole life. 
                              
It wasn't exactly the most affluent area, and with your family's home so close to the now dilapidated asylum - the place looked akin to something from a Penny Dreadful ghost 온라인카지노게임.  As in every bad place, there were good people here in Lambeth but it didn't do much to change the fact this particular district of London was one of the more sordid and probably nearly as dangerous as Whitechapel had been in recent months. 
                              
As you walked that morning in the bright Sunday sunshine towards the direction of the Agency, which was based across the bridge in the main City of London area, you humbled yourself that one day Lambeth might just be a ghost of your past. 
                              
Fanciful thoughts occupied you as you ambled across the bridge amongst many other Sunday strollers. Wandering over the bridge that stemmed over the Thames, you even noticed the class of people shift the more you moved towards the heart of the city. Scruffy workers dungarees and tatty dresses were exchanged for frivolous frocks and impeccable suits - parasols floating in dainty gloved hands and hoity laughter that filled the air like birdsong.
                              
You by no means looked as if you had come from a poorer family - with the money you had managed to scrape together from your 2 previous jobs, you had given most to your mother and then spent the rest on some more simple, yet equally as pretty dresses. Today, it seemed the carnation pink dress with white details seemed fitting for this rather spring feeling day despite the fact it was only January. 
                              
Besides, it did good to look smart upon arriving to the agency. What you had learned is that, shallow as it may be, the people running that place tended to prefer the more preened women over those who looked as if they'd just left an 18 hour shift in the workhouse. 
                              
Rounding the street corner, you passed a small boy hollering today's headlines and pressed your palm to the royal green coloured front door of the agency's office. A small brass bell chimed noisily upon your entrance, the figures of a few people milling about - one portly looking man and then a separate woman in rather unusual clothing chatting to two of the staff. 
                              
Beginning as you had done for the last week or so, you started with the notice board which had pinned many advertisements people had put up calling for certain staff. It ranged from public owned business to private patrons requesting someone to work in their home - all jobs ranging from butlers to stable hands. Your (eye colour) eyes surveyed the board, easily discarding a few irrelevant adverts instantly. 
                              
The few remaining on the board requested maid work, servants jobs - all rang eerily similar of your last few jobs. Your gut tightened in anxious apprehension that you would always feel this way about looking for work. It was either this or sign yourself up for the workhouse, where your life would well and truly be over. 
                              
Taking a deep breath, you tried to remind yourself of your earlier mantra... everyone has to start somewhere! Pushing back the unease of feelings, you read more of the description on the adverts, ears nonchalantly listening into the conversation in the shop. 
                              
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The assassin tried to remain somewhat patient as she stood before the polished oak desk of a clerk who was up until now, being perhaps the most unhelpful person in hi온라인카지노게임. Reading too much into Evie's simple request of seeing if they had anyone in their files who might be able to do some servant work and light nurse maid duties. 
                              
He was flicking through a paper file with all the nonchalance of a man with absolutely all the time in the world. As Evie clenched her jaw a little, all she could seem to think about was how she could have probably ran all the way to India and back again in the time it had taken this man to sift through the file in his porky hands.