A Death Along the River Fleet by Susanna Calkins

such deep sleep is not uncommon for one in such a state. Mayhap she’s awakened by now, though.”
    â€œI doubt it. That’s the devil working through her,” Molly scoffed.
    Lucy rolled her eyes and continued to the woman’s bedchamber. When she opened the door, however, she found her lip curling when she saw that the woman was still sound asleep. Even though she had just defended her actions to Molly, it was hard not to be annoyed by such seeming indolence. Even her late mistress, who could be a bit flighty, had never slept so late into the morning. Idle hands are the devil’s tools, she could almost hear the minister’s voice intone.
    Setting the bowl on the table with a loud thud, Lucy gazed down at the woman. She wanted to wake her up, ask her about the name she had uttered before she fell into her deep sleep. “James,” she had said. “Let me be.”
    Did she mean James Sheridan? If so, why did she wish him to leave her alone?
    â€œMiss!” she said.
    The woman did not reply.
    â€œMiss!” she said again, this time more loudly.
    Still the woman did not stir. Sighing, Lucy was about to turn away when she caught sight of the amulet where it gleamed softly against the woman’s throat. Where had the woman gotten such a precious piece? she wondered.
    Then another thought occurred to her. Perhaps she could learn something about the woman if she learned more about the beautiful gemstone.
    With a wary eye on the woman, Lucy grasped the amulet with three fingers and, holding her breath, slipped it over the woman’s head, taking care not to pull her tresses.
    Lifting her own skirts, Lucy placed the amulet in her hidden pocket so that she would not draw the attention of thieves. Hopefully I am not the one thought to be the pilferer! Lucy thought to herself, a bit guiltily. If she were caught, she would have a little trouble explaining to Dr. Larimer why she had taken the amulet.
    Moving quietly into the kitchen, she encountered Mrs. Hotchkiss, who was examining her besom. The cord tying the heather, broom, and other twigs to the handle had come apart, and little pieces from the bundle were all over the floor. “It seems I need a new besom to sweep up my old one,” she remarked drily to Lucy. “And I cannot spare Molly today, for she will dawdle for sure at the market.”
    Lucy seized on the woman’s words, seeing an opportunity. “By your leave, ma’am. I should very much like to see my brother, Will,” she said. Truth be told, as a nursemaid she only needed Dr. Larimer’s permission, but she did not wish to make an enemy of the housekeeper. “I promise I shall not be gone long. I should be happy to stop at the market to get a new besom. A good haggler I am, too.”
    With Mrs. Hotchkiss’s grudging consent and a coin in her pocket, Lucy set out.
    Instead of heading straight to the printer’s shop, however, Lucy stopped first at the shop of a goldsmith she knew, to inquire about the amulet. Like many other guilds, the Worshipful Company of Goldsmiths had seen most of their members lose their shops and livelihoods during the Great Fire. Originally, all the goldsmiths’ shops had been located near St. Paul’s, to the south of Cheapside, but now they were spread throughout the city. Ogden Dalrymple had been the first to resettle on a side street off of Fleet. She knew him to be reputable and, as rumor would have it, quite knowledgeable in jewelry.
    When she walked in, Mr. Dalrymple looked up. He was a short, rather sickly-looking man, who moved as if every joint pained him. When Lucy had met him before, she recalled, he always had a bit of a smile on his face, but now he looked world-weary.
    â€œGood morning, sir,” she said. She noticed then a huge man sitting in the corner, who opened his eyes when she walked in. He was dressed as a simple tradesman, but she suspected that he was employed by the jeweler to