Chapter 1.
Young Elizabeth Dollington, of the Newham Dollingtons, was as fine and refined as it was possible for a young lady to be. Magnificent, in both dress and manners, and fluent in Latin in French.
One day she was walking through an east London market, perusing the goods, not sure what to get. None of the fabrics were of the usual quality she demanded however here she hoped to find some antique which would set her apart from her society set. She liked to be different, quirky.
Without really thinking about it she turned down an alley she hadn’t seen before to find a large, hairy, man with a deep voice stood behind a table with some broaches on it.
“hello gorgeous,” he said as she approached, “see anything you like?”
She perused the stall and picked out a little hatpin and asked how much. He said 5 shillings and she offered back 3.
“3 fucking shillings!” he said, turning sour and dark all of a sudden. “You come down in here in your fucking fancy clothes and shoes that cost more than my house and you fucking try to haggle me down. Fuck you and your fancy life, fuck you!”