newlyweds were ready to search out a place to make their home together.

“Well, love, what do you think so far?” Christopher asked from his seat beside

Katerina in the hansom.

She shrugged. “Um, I suppose the small one was best so far, though I don't

fancy the thought of all those stairs. Walking directly into the kitchen isn't my favorite either. It isn't good for entertaining. I wonder who designed such a structure.”

“I agree. It wouldn't be much of an improvement over my rooms. Each floor

is about the same size, only there are more of them, but at least it's furnished.

What about the larger place?”

“It needs too much work,” she pointed out. “Those holes in the walls and floors will leave us either marooned in the hotel for weeks or living in the middle of the renovation. And then we'd still have to furnish the whole thing, and it's huge. ”

“Astute observations, love.”

“And the rooms in the other hotel?” she suggested. “The size is right, and it's

quite luxurious.”

“Too expensive,” he replied. “I don't want to spend so much of our monthly

income on housing alone, even if it is furnished. I hope this last place is better.”

“Well, the location is convenient,” Katerina commented. “In the last minute,

we've passed a greengrocer, a butcher and a bakery.”

The hansom rolled to a stop with a jingle and clatter, and the couple stepped

down.

“Wait again, sir?” the driver asked, grinning at what a profitable morning he

had spent with the Bennetts.

“Please,” Christopher agreed.

The man tipped his hat.

The cold wind had died down to a shivery breeze, and a pale sun tried to

warm her, though it would be several months before any discernable heat would appear.

Christopher withdrew the key he'd received from the agent.

Katerina crossed her fingers as she took in their last option. The

neighborhood consisted of a single continuous string of identical two-story structures, all red brick with white plaster columns supporting white balconies.

The windows had been shaped into triangular peaks for added interest.

“This place is charming!” Katerina exclaimed, resting her hand on the iron pole of a gas streetlamp.

“It is,” Christopher agreed, “and the location is quite good. Close to my parents, far from the Thames and the factory.”

“Doesn't that mean you'll be longer getting to work?” Katerina wondered.

“The weather is still quite cold.”

He shrugged. “Once I find my gloves, I'll be fine. Living far from the factory

is a blessing unless you fancy darkening your hair in a shower of ash.”

“Your gloves are under the bed,” Katerina replied, smirking at his sudden, thunderstruck stare. “I noticed them this morning when I was trying to find my

other boot, and I see what you mean about the ash. Very well. Shall we go in?”

Inside, the lower level consisted of a series of rooms arranged along a central

hallway with creamy plaster on the walls and polished wood on the floors. First,

a small parlor waited to greet guests. Katerina could imagine a comfortable, stylish sofa, a few armchairs and a little table with a vase for flowers. The size

precluded fitting in any musical instruments. Even a diminutive harpsichord would have no place once the furniture arrived. Across from the parlor, a room

with built-in shelves seemed to be a study. She smiled to imagine Christopher sitting behind a heavy, masculine desk, a glass of sherry nearby, bent over a pile

of correspondence. Behind the parlor, a long dining room dominated the rest of

the house, large enough to invite the entire poetry group to dinner, should an alternate location become required. At the back, opening to the outdoors, the kitchen retained a pleasing aroma of previous meals, like a ghostly yet friendly

hug.

“Do you cook much?” Christopher asked.

Katerina shook her head. “A few things, but not many. Father has a great deal of money. You see, his father had a shipping business, which he inherited. Since it runs itself best without his interference, he simply collects the money and does

whatever he wants. Father does have trouble keeping servants because of his temperament, but he always manages to replace them. My duties in the

household were… limited.”

Christopher's gaze turned inward as he leaned against a cold and dormant

cast-iron stove and Katerina could almost see the gears turning in his head.