The Adventures of Naughty Nelly

By Caroll Casey

‘She looked as though butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth but......’

'Nelly had to make a living the best way she knew how’

‘Respectable ladies still have to eat’

Short story, set in 17th Century, Kingdom of England.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Caroll Casey
• Release date: Mar 26, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301411504

Caroll Casey

Caroll Casey is a self-promoting gossip who has always been intrigued by lives lived in the past. Profile image by JK Blackwell.

Book preview

The Adventures of Naughty Nelly

Published by Caroll Casey

Copyright 2013 Caroll Casey

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this eBook. This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Chapter 1

Wherein I learn my new craft

I was an only child and although born into poor circumstances my parents spared no effort in providing me with an education above my station. I was taught dancing, needlework and French and my poor father laboured long and hard to provide the wherewithal for these luxuries. Apart from my education I had been blessed with a comely face, straight teeth, robust health and a buxom figure.

When I was seventeen my parents died within six months of each other and I was left to fend for myself. After my grief had faded I took stock of my life. My father had left me £120, some household linen and a few pieces of furniture. Having an abhorrence of toil and no desire to fall into poverty, and no intention of earning my living by the sweat of my brow, observation had shown me there were other ways. Many a friend of my father had intimated a willingness to recompense me for a small treasure I possessed. Common sense told me if men of limited means were prepared to pay, men of much greater capital would also be willing to pay. So I decided to guard this asset as well as I could until such times as I could turn it to a profit, for I knew that once surrendered it could never be regained.

Needlework had given me nimble light fingers and I wondered whether this talent could be put to good use. Reading in the broadsheets of the skills of pickpockets and how they learnt their wicked trade, I decided to teach myself to remove objects of value from unsuspecting fools.

Taking an old worn, velvet coat of fathers I set about sewing little bells all over it. When I was satisfied with the completion of my task, I pulled a stool from under the table, climbed upon it and stretching up, hung the coat from a hook in the wooden ceiling beam. As if to remind me of the recklessness of the endeavour I was embarking on, it swung gently in the draught like some poor soul on a gibbet.

In the privacy of my rooms I practised removing coins from the pockets. At first the little bells pealed in my ears as though Christmas was already upon us but I persevered until I could do so without the garment as much as trembling. I became quite skilled and decided the time had come to put my practice into use.

Overcoming my fears, I ventured out into the town and sauntered with the casual demeanour as a lady taking the air. I had dressed carefully in quality clothes, wore a little discreet jewellery and in my purse carried two guineas, the very picture of virtuous young refinement. If someone shouted pickpocket it would not be me who attracted the attention, a lady with guineas of her own. Spotting a likely victim, an elderly man, rotund and slow, I drew level with