Free Pickpocket's Apprentice by Sheri Cobb South

Miss Granger in the manner to which she is accustomed.”
    “I’ve thought of that,” Pickett said eagerly. “I was thinking maybe I could persuade her father to take me on as a partner.”
    “If you are pinning your hopes on Mr. Granger’s patronage, you would do much better to serve out your apprenticeship, and demonstrate your worthiness for such a position.”
    “But—but three years , sir!”
    “I know it seems like a long time now,” conceded Mr. Colquhoun, not without sympathy, “but if she truly loves you, she will be willing to wait.” He did not for one minute believe it—he doubted that Elias Granger’s flighty daughter was capable of such a degree of devotion—but he trusted the ensuing years would give John Pickett time to fall out of love with his master’s daughter, and fix his youthful affections on a more suitable object.
    In this assumption he had much mistaken his man, for never was a lover more faithful than John Pickett. If working for Sophy’s father was indeed his last, best hope of winning her, then work he would. And so he did, shoveling the coal and hauling the heavy sacks with such enthusiasm that Tom wondered, more than once, what had got into the boy.
    And then, in the spring of 1803, came the news he had longed to hear.
    Sophy’s schooling was at last complete, and she would soon be coming home for good.
     

 
     
     
     
     
Chapter 9
     
    In Which John Pickett Makes a Surprising Discovery
     
    The month of May was a torment for Pickett. Every day brought Sophy’s return a little nearer, and yet every day seemed longer than the one before. Everywhere he looked, he found reminders of her—even in a pawnshop. For it was after delivering coal to just such an establishment in Great Hart Street that he went inside to receive payment, and was obliged to cool his heels while the pawnbroker waited on another customer.
    Pickett sighed, thinking of the impatient Tom waiting for him outside, for the woman’s business threatened to be protracted. She was dressed in unrelieved black and heavily veiled, so Pickett could form no opinion as to her age, but the refined accents in which she addressed Mr. Figgins reminded Pickett of the odd changes in Sophy’s speech since she had been sent to school, and he realized at once that this was what she was trying to emulate. For his part, Pickett hoped Sophy never succeeded: if ever a woman were to address him in such tones, he would be putty in her hands.
    Mr. Figgins, however, appeared to be made of sterner stuff. “I’m sorry, Mrs., er, ma’am,” he told the veiled lady, “but I can give you twelve guineas, and not a farthing more.”
    “But they are worth forty pounds, at the least reckoning!” the woman pleaded.
    Pickett couldn’t imagine anyone being dissatisfied with the prospect of being paid twelve guineas. Why, such a sum would be more than half of the twenty pounds he needed to buy out the remaining two years of his apprenticeship. Overcome by curiosity, he shifted sideways until he was able to look over the lady’s shoulder. A necklace of green stones set in silver lay on the pawnbroker’s counter, gleaming in the sunlight shining through the window.
    The pawnbroker shook his head. “I’m sorry, ma’am. You might try one of the fashionable jewelers in Mayfair. I believe Rundell and Bridge buys gems at secondhand sometimes. I’ve done business with them a time or two myself.”
    “Oh, but they—that is, there are—reasons—why I cannot possibly take them to Rundell and Bridge. But if you have done business there before, might you not act as my intermediary?”
    Mr. Figgins took an instinctive step backwards, putting up his hands as if to ward off an attack. “Look here, ma’am, I won’t be getting involved in nothing havey-cavey. I run an honest establishment here, and if I’m not mistaken, this fellow behind you is awaiting payment for his coal. Twelve guineas, ma’am. That’s the best I can do.”
    Aware of