⤞ 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

a/n; Hi everyone! So before you start reading I just want to make you aware of changed the details a little in this post-jack the ripper syndicate fic in that Jacob doesn't lose his eye. I feel he deserves that much, poor baby.

That being said, I hope you enjoy this 온라인카지노게임! Apologies if this chapter is a little dry, I'm just setting up the 온라인카지노게임

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The streets of Whitechapel held less of a prevalent aura of complete terror once the people of London came to learn of the monster's death.

It was as if things were beginning to return to normal, even the skies that had been nothing but persistently grey and murky with fog all winter long were beginning to clear in the new year of 1889.

However that fog never quite left the minds of the twin Assassins, Jacob and Evie Frye. In a sense, Jack's blood had stained their hands far beyond what a simple splash of cool water could wash away. How Evie had to beg, to plea with Sergeant Abberline to not let word of Jack's real hi온라인카지노게임 and background let slip to the wider world.

All he could ever be to the public was just another sadistic murderer with a mind more warped than rusted wrought iron fencing. If the truth came out that Jack was part of an organisation devoted to the freedom and protection of the people, it could very well destroy the London brotherhood and in principle, perhaps the entire Brotherhood across the world.

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January 1889

A blinding whiteness captured the sun on that rather chilly Sunday morning, the sky deceptively blue in contrast to the freezing temperatures that still held the city.

As Dame Evie Frye sat at the table in her brother's Whitechapel apartment residence, she couldn't help but think that no amount of sunshine in this city could rid her or her brother's minds of their immense guilt.

The teacup on the table before her was going cold, as she peeked around the corner and still saw no signs of Jacob rousing from rest. She couldn't exactly blame him, he'd been through far worse than she had at the hands of Jack.

Initially, when Evie had found her brother on the brink of death under Lambeth Asylum, she had thought the ripper had removed Jacob's left eye completed. Luckily, after the immediate trip to the doctor following that crazed evening that's events could be compared very much to a Shakespeare tragedy, it appeared only that the area around the eye had been slashed - hence the swelling and the horrifying bloody look. Evie was at least somewhat relieved that at least her brother had kept his eye.

However upon returning home, that one relief fell flat to everything else that had mounted on her mind. The whole scale of Jack's murderous reign. It had surely left her shaken, but her brother? He had barely said a word. At first she had put that down to his exhaustion, shock and pain at the hands of his injuries.

But as time had gone on, and the New Year was seen in, Jacob's silence only lessened by the uttering of a few syllables or short sentences each day. Her heart broke, she truly believed the brash Assassin with wit as sharp as a knife was dead - dead and left in that dark basement cell under the fallen Asylum.

She worried for Jacob, knowing she had to return to India soon- back to Henry. Her brother was barely caring for himself, with his eye injuring healing he was still only partially sighted - he had tried and failed so many times to make a cup of tea with one arm in a sling and only one eye to concentrate with... well most of the time that simple activity ended in furious animosity fuelled by frustration. He had been the leader of the Brotherhood here for so long and now he could not do so much as make a cup of tea?

Evie hated it - trying to calm him and assure him it would get better in time. Those words over time had only acted as some kind of abrasive surface, like a piece of sandpaper over and over again. Jacob had become bitter, angry and resentful of his situation.

It was then that Evie had decided before she could leave, she had to try and find someone to take care of her brother. She very much feared for what would happen should he be left alone, he might end up injuring himself all over again... or even worse. She knew there were plenty of agencies around and she could surely secure a nursemaid of some kind to ensure that Jacob didn't end up getting himself into a worser situation.

And so, with a tea left stony cold on the table and her brother still presumably sleeping in to avoid seeing the light of another day - Evie headed up from the chipped old wood table and headed for the door, steps striding and purposeful as she left the apartment and headed down the wooden, creaking steps to the world outside.

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Even the grimiest of workhouses seemed a better alternative to this. Your chaotic family home with your screaming 6 year old brother and 8 year old sister, a constant headache as they ran around the cramped one roomed place you had to call home.

"Theodore! Eloise! Will you be quiet for just ten minutes?" You cried, even their shrill squeals had been enough to make it hard to concentrate on the washing, let alone anything else. Perhaps your fuse was shorter than usual due to the fact you had been dropped once again from your last maid job at an elderly gentleman's residence because you spoke your mind too much.

Of course, at 22 years of age you were very much aware of the fact that women without stature, without titles - were just around to serve. Serve their masters, serve their husbands and serve their houses. However, that didn't always sit right with you. If you felt injustice or the need to share what was on your mind, then wild horses could not hold your tongue back. That nonchalant 'free movement' (as the last master, Mr Edwards had called it) of your tongue had landed in you in trouble a fair few times.

"Maybe if you could hold down a bloody job for more than a month you wouldn't have to keep coming back here!" the belittling voice of your mother sounded, a forty-something woman with a face far beyond her years due to the long hours she worked and the children she had raised. Your father had left the family you were merely a toddler, gone into the night and never seen again. You could understood why time had been unkind and aged your mother so, she'd had more than enough stressors on her plate.

"Ma, I want more than anything for that to be the case." you replied, dunking some more nightshirts into the luke-warm water in the tub, "You know how I struggle to keep my mouth shut sometimes.... it's not easy when I know something is wrong yet I'm not supposed to say anything." you huffed, tucking a stand of your (hair colour) locks behind your ears.

"Stubborn, just like your bloody father." she stated, with a sprinkling of humour in her voice. "I know it's not easy love, but that's just what we have to do in life. We just get on, keep our noses clean and try to earn a living." she said, her voice nonchalantly dismissive and placating towards her own situation. Fleeting your glance across the room, with the grimy boarded floors - the barely glowing hearth and the damp patches on the ceiling. You wanted more than this! Surely there was more to life than squatting in a hole like animals, making just enough money to see scraps on the table and rags on your backs.

"I'm not sure I want to do that, ma." you responded, a sullen realisation to your voice. A strange silence fell about the room - perhaps it was because Eloise and Theodore had rushed out to the street to play with their hoops and sticks or maybe it was because your mother too had come to realise that wanting better for you was something she had always desired.

Folding one of Theodore's scuffed trousers, your mother set it on the table and bore you a weary but optimistic smile.

"Then you bloody go out there and work hard for what you want, my darlin'." she whispered, passing you as she made her way back out to the washing line in your tiny courtyard back garden, her hand tenderly brushing your shoulder on the way.

With another brisk dunk of some more clothes into the tub, you had very much decided that after this lot was done - you were making your way back down to the agency office for the third time this week. You mollified your ferocious voice inside; reminded that demon that barked in your ear that you always deserved more than this - that perhaps starting from the bottom and working your way up was a more practical and feasible way of working towards your dream of being something more than a servant girl.

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a/n; thank you so much for reading! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter :)