Ruth was alone, Jacob having been left home with Eleanor so she could have time to breathe. The basket was empty as she approached the first stall, gazing at the trinkets, some that reminded her of conversations with Edward Blackwood. She lifted a small clock and examined it, admiring the craftsmanship. She could afford it if she wanted to buy it; she had saved her money up good and well since being in the employ of the Blackwood family. She looked to the vendor, a chubby cheeked older man with a red face and a jolly disposition. She asked for a price and he must have seen something in how she handled the piece that made him undersell the piece, but she only paid a few pence and no more at his insistence.

She thanked him for the trinket and stepped away, gazing at the object before tucking it away into the bottom of the basket. She drifted toward the smell of street food, purchasing a few Scotch eggs, tucking one away and nibbling on the second. Once she was done with her meal, she fully intended to look about for some clothes that would fit her better now that she had changed in her figure with the birth of her son.

For the moment, however, she was content to have some time to herself.