* * *
His name was Patrick Willis and he was once an aspiring jeweler. His father had been a jeweler to the high society in the outskirts of London. Sadly, his father died of consumption when Patrick was fifteen. It was a horrible, slow death of hacking coughs, phlegm, and blood. The fever lingered a long time and the elder Willis lost his mind, could no longer work, and inevitably sank Patrick’s family in debt. Patrick's family placed the patriarch in a sanitarium that promised to cure him, but the money ran out before a cure was found. The sick, old man had to be moved back to home where he was cared for by Patrick's mother and his three sisters.
Hoping his father would recover, Patrick made a desperate attempt to pay his father's debts and keep him out of prison. He took every scrap of valuable jewelry the family had left and went to make a deal with a competing, ruthless jeweler named William Potts. He wanted to see if Potts would buy his family's business. He hid the jewelry well and disguised himself as a pauper while traveling to the jewelers shop so as not to arouse suspicion.
Fortunately, Potts recognized Patrick as soon as he entered the shop and he did not throw him into the street, as he normally would a true pauper. Potts invited Patrick to the back of the shop so that the young man could display the wares he kept in a hidden bag concealed on his person. The swag was mostly bits of wire scraps of silver with a few rare stones. If he had the luxury of time, Patrick could have found buyers fetching a decent price for the items, possibly just enough to pay his father’s debts. Sadly, this was not the case. Patrick did not have time and he had to desperately acquire as much money as he could before his father was sent off to debtors’ prison.
Mr. Potts scratched his chin, taking painfully long to examine the swag, and could see the sweat beading on the young man's brow. He relished Patrick’s desperation and anxiousness. Potts assumed correctly this was Patrick’s first financial transaction. He also heard the rumors of the elder Willis's plight and was quite happy to see his competition sinking into illness, debt and desperation.
Mr. Potts slowly examined every stone, rolling them in his fingers and occasionally sighing for affect. The master jeweler took far more time then he needed considering the level of his expertise. It was all a game, to test young Patrick’s patience and to judge the depth of his desperation. Finally, after what seemed like a painful eternity, Mr. Potts simply grimaced and stated flatly, “No,” without any further explanation.
Patrick grabbed Potts by the sleeve and begged, "Please, sir. Reconsider. I will give you a dandy of a deal."
"No, boy," Mr. Potts smiled coldly. “Now release me and get out.” Patrick's jaw went slack with shock. He released the older man's arm and felt as if the hope of saving his father from debtors’ prison was slipping through his fingers. Brushing off his sleeve as if Patrick's touch had soiled him, Potts reiterated, "Go on now. Out with you!"
As Patrick staggered through the shop's front room towards the door, he looked over his shoulder to take a glimpse of Potts one last time. Maybe his father's competition would change his mind. Perhaps this was all a ploy to lower the cost of what he would have to pay for Patrick's valuable snippets.
Potts had strutted to behind his shop counter where another man in a rich red coat was casually leaning. Both men grinned maliciously and spoke to each other in cutting, hushed tones. Embarrassingly, Patrick was startled by the sound of the tiny bell that hung above the shop's door when it chimed softly as he made his exit. The two men roared in laughter and Patrick could only hang his head and walk out with a defeated gait.
Humiliated, Patrick slowly began his walk home. His mind scrambled trying to find the words he could tell his poor mother that his last, desperate plan was a failure. He thought about his little sisters and how they would fare in a life of poverty, with no dowry and no prospects for betterment.
"SMACK!" Suddenly, Patrick felt a red, hot burning sensation flash across his jaw. It felt like he had stuck his face in a fire. Grasping at his jaw, he fell to his knees writhing with pain. To his astonishment, he realized that a puddle of blood forming on the ground around his knees was from the blood dripping off his own chin. He then felt a hard boot slam against his back forcing him prone into the mud. Immediately, Patrick felt hands rummaging inside his shirt. The thief knew right whereto find Patrick's pouch of valuables and deftly ripped it from his clothes. Looking over his shoulder, Patrick could only see the backside of the thief running quickly down the street. He was sure he had caught a glimpse of a rich, redcoat as the thief darted around the corner.
It took the assaulted young man a few sands of time to figure out what had just happened. His head spun and his face throbbed with pain. He called out for help but strangers just ignored him. The man appeared as a seemingly lowly pauper bleeding in the street, so the witnesses continued to walk by without even making eye contact. The strangers knew it was entirely too dangerous to get involved in other people’s business. The locals knew that exposing a thief was the fastest way to put your own family in danger and find a dagger in your back.
With no one to help, Patrick eventually collected himself and tried to stop the crimson flow from his left cheek by pressing his sleeve against the gaping wound. He knew chasing the thief was futile and that he had better get home as fast as possible to control his bleeding and clean the wound. Nothing killed a man as slow and painful as infection.
When he finally made it home, Patrick’s entire family sat around the kitchen table and cried as he told them what happened, how Potts offered him nothing, laughed him out of his shop, and how Patrick fell victim to the road agent in a red coat. When he was done telling his sorry story, the whole family was silent. His small straw haired sister, Garland, came over and held his hand. Patrick's family knew what this failure meant and that the consequences were ghastly. The Willis family owed the sanitarium a great deal of money.
Since his father had been a prominent jeweler, the sanitarium assumed Mr. Willis had plenty of money and extended him credit. After a few months, the sanitarium wised up and threw Patrick’s father into the streets, demanding payment. Immediately, the sanitarium lodged a complaint with the officials and it was expected that soon the elder, sick patriarch be dragged off to debtors’ prison.
Two days after Patrick failed to sell the jewelry scraps to Potts and was robbed by the road agent, his father died at the humble home they were renting. With tears in her eyes, Patrick's mother sold the wedding ring her husband handcrafted for her to pay for his funeral services and for the following month’s rent.
It was a simple and solemn funeral poorly attended from fear of catching the consumption from the corpse of old man Willis. The service was heart wrenching. The sobbing of Patrick’s mother and sisters who were grieving openly and loudly was muffled by the sound of heavy, falling rain. Garland wept loudly and hugged Patrick's leg as their father was entombed in the earth.
Then, as Patrick made his way from the grave, two agents of his majesty, King George II, grabbed each of Patrick’s arms. He knew then he was out of time. By the king's law, it was decreed that the oldest son became responsible for the father’s debt. This statute was usually not enforced on one as young as Patrick. Unfortunately, his family’s debt was sizeable. He sadly said his goodbyes to his family and he calmly walked away with the agents escorting him. The sobbing sounds that came from his huddled family broke Patrick's heart. Although his mother and sisters vowed to work hard and pay off the debts to free Patrick, they all knew it would be impossible to come into such a large sum of money.