Another grey cloud that had hung over you since you turned twenty, the fact you were practically a spinster at this age. It was more the concern of society than your own, you didn't care much for finding a suitor as you had been concentrated on yourself. 
                              
"Maybe I will find a husband one day, when I am ready." you reminded your mother. "I don't want to rush... I saw what happened to you." you replied, not meaning for it to sound so sharp and blunt. The look you ascertained from your mother was a very wounded one at that. 
                              
"I didn't mean for that to sound so cruel ma, I'm sorry." you said quickly and apologetically, "I just meant I don't want to be with someone like father who could leave...."
                              
She sighed softly, seeming to understand where you were coming from as she nodded her head, but that did not excuse the glassy twinkle of tears in her eyes. 
                              
"I understand love..." she replied in a croaky voice, flashing you a wane smile. "And I want more than anything for you to have better than that."
                              
Placing your hand on her cheek, you stroked your thumb softly against the skin momentarily - a look of apology still hanging in your eyes as you mother smile to let you know the comment was forgiven. 
                              
You also made a mental note to yourself in that moment, that should you succeed one day... you would make sure that your mother would always be cared for. 
                              
-
                              
A heaviness hung in the air of the flat, like the charged energy that sat in the air before a big storm. Evie's news of the servant for her brother had gone down rather like a lead balloon. 
                              
Jacob had been so keen to hang onto his independence for as long as possible, and the assassin was having an incredibly hard time getting his head around the fact things had changed, and that he did need some support. 
                              
"A bloody servant! What am I, 80 years old!?" he chunnered on like a huffy child as he paced around the apartment, Evie purposefully keeping her eyes trained out of the window and onto the street below. 
                              
"I'm really not happy you went out and sorted all this without my permission, Evie." he snapped, forcing his sister to turn and face him. He looked a shadow of his former self, large leather assassin's coat all but hung up by the front door, leaving him in his white shirt, black and grey pin stripe trousers and boots - the look polished off rather unfashionably by the off white coloured sling supporting his arm. 
                              
"Jacob, you won't be able to recover should you be left here on your own." she explained, deciding now was a better time than ever to break her news. "I have to return to India, I cannot stay to nurse you. Please, it would put my mind at ease to know you are being looked after."
                              
"You make it sound as if I'm some feeble, doddery old codger." he grumbled bitterly, holding his ground whilst Evie looked at him with a sadness in her eyes. 
                              
"I'm not saying this is forever Jacob. Just until you get better and regain full sight in your left eye." she remarked, hoping the fact this would be temporary might put him at ease. "Please, just give this poor girl a chance. She should be here soon." Evie replied, a closure to her tone as she returned her gaze to the streets below. 
                              
The sky had averted to it's usual grey and overast hue by the time the afternoon rolled around. Saving yourself the long walk, you hailed a cab from Lambeth to the address in Whitechapel. 
                              
A nervousness had bubbled in your stomach, not unusual for you when considering prospect jobs. Gazing out of the carriage window, you watched all the other coaches and carriages bob by, drawn by the fine horses with their floating trots. 
                              
As you made your way across the bridge, you began to think about what sort of person Evie's brother might have been. She was around the same age as your mother, so you imagined maybe her brother was some years older? Especially if he required a carer. Was he perhaps getting too old and rather senile to take care of himself? You'd dealt with a very elderly gentleman in one of your previous jobs, and he was mainly alright if he didn't rant on and on to you about the stupid things - like how he only liked his toast if it was nearly burnt or the window left just open enough it allowed a breeze but not too open he became cold. That aspect of older people you found... tiring.