The sound of the pops still whired in her ears, although the last shot was fired five minutes ago, two miles up the road. Millicent pressed herself in the shadows, shaking of fear and chill. Her plain and simple wedding gown was wet, the sleet pouring merciless on the streets, her head and the forever ruined dress. The backyard she stood in was dark and grimy, the rustling of the ruggedly awoken rats made her shiver even more. She listened to the argument lead by the Shelby brothers, the handymen also listened close-lipped, watching the street for their chasers.
Millicent was still horror-struck by the events of the last three months, especially by what happened in the last 24 hours. In the first week of September her father told her she had to marry. In the second week of the same month he told her he'd found a man for her. She wasn't allowed to see him, to get to know him, and, as she learned in the meantime, he wasn't either. It was a big secret, this wedding, a clever plan to make even more money, to gain power and control, to consolidate the business of both parties – her father and the Peaky Blinders.
24 hours ago she had met her husband for the first time, for an affiance dinner. He was about 10 or 12 years older than she and he barely spoke, neither to her nor to the other guests. Arthur Shelby didn't look at her until this morning, when he said his vows. He vowed to love, cherish, honour and protect her, and to be faithful, to forsake all others, as long as they would live. But what if he lied? What if she was damned to lead a lonely life in a golden cage, while her husband lived with his mistress? What if he was an asshole, beating her up just for fun, forcing her to do unspeakable things? A thousand questions spun through her head, and no one was there to answer at least a few.
The wedding ceremony had been as plain and simple as her dress, only their families to witness. The wedding party took place at a small restaurant, and beside the families a few trusted members of both companies attended the party (say companies, think gangs, Millicent thought while Arthur welcomed the guests in the name of Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Shelby). It had been a wonderful party, considering the circumstances. Seriously. But right after the starters some unwelcomed guests shot their way through the dining area and they had to flee, leaving seven dying or already dead men behind, three of the Peaky Blinders, four of her own family. The shocked look on Uncle Alban's face, the hole in the bridge of his nose, was a sight she won't be able to forget. And now she stood here, on her wedding day, teeth chattering, in a grimy backyard, fearing for her life.
"Once the marriage is consummated the case is closed. There's nothing left these bastards could do." Thomas Shelby stated, shrugging. "So ..."
The following silence felt unreal, seconds trickled away. The sleet turned into snow and she was so cold, so damn cold. She cried silently, pressing herself even deeper in the shadows, too afraid to run away and hide somewhere where it was warm.
"So ... what?" Arthur asked after an eternity, maybe because nobody else answered.
"Go on." Once more, Thomas shrugged, nodding with his head in her direction.
"What, here?"
"Aye."
"Are you fucking crazy, Tommy?" Arthur barked, grasping the lapel of Thomas' coat.
"Lots of witnesses. That's what we need. It isn't ... well ... the best way to start the honeymoon, but ..."
"You ... it was you forcing me to marry this girl, you hear me?" Arthur spat. "I vowed to fucking protect her, just hours before. And now you suggest that I rape her in a fucking backyard, on a goddamn pile of rubbish covered in snow, with half a dozen horndogs watching us? Is this what you wanna tell me, Thomas? This is your idea of marriage, of a honeymoon? Are you off your head?"
Thomas sighed deeply, and shook his head: "Cool down, Arthur."
"No, I won't cool down as long as you talk shit like this! Goddammit!" He let go of the lapels and took a step back. "What about the hideout you've arranged?"
"How do you ..., uh, whatever. Aye, alright." Thomas led his brother away from the handymen, in Millicent's direction. He lowered his voice, but she was able to hear him: "Dumack Alley, Number 17. Use the backdoor. I'm coming by in the afternoon. I wanna see some bloody sheets, got it?"
Arthur cursed lowly, but he nodded and took something out of his brother's hand, presumably the key to the hideout.
"Millicent? Come," he then said, reaching out for her. "I've found us a safe place to stay."
Her teeth chattered so much, that she wasn't able to answer.
"Uh, fuck. You're freezing to death, Millie." Arthur said, as she came out of the shadows. "Tommy!" He barked. "Give your fucking coat to my wife."
Thomas cursed but he emptied the pockets of his coat and handed it to her. She didn't know if it was just an illusion but she felt Thomas' warmth enveloping her body. For the split of a second she felt better. Arthur – who, unlike his brother, hadn't had the time to grab his coat – didn't seem to be cold. Maybe because of his hot temper, maybe because of the fact that he wore vest, shirt, waistcoat and jacket.
"Let's go," he said, taking her hand in his, leading her to the passage to the next backyard.
They walked for half an hour through the snowfall, without speaking, hidden in the shadows, avoiding the streets. Arthur knew his town like the back of his hand, he never paused, whereas Millicent lost her compass just after a few minutes. The wind in the backyards was icy, the snowfall got dense and Arthur was clearly cold too by the time they reached Dumack Alley Number 17.
It was a small house, a rear building, not visible from the street.
"Here we are," Arthur said, opening the door. "Wait here, just for a minute. Lemme check that everything's fine in there, aye?"
Millicent nodded – she could also wait another hour outside, as the house was as cold as a grave. They needed to reheat the rooms.
"Alright, come in, Millicent!" He called after a short time.
She took a step over the threshold and closed the door. She followed the noise and found her husband in the kitchen, already lighting the stove.
"First, we need dry clothing. Go in the bedroom and take a look in the wardrobe, will you?"
"Yes," she answered and did as he told.
"The ... the wardrobes are empty. I checked every single one," she said, back in the kitchen, after opening every damn cabinet she found.
Her icy, wet dress stuck at her cold skin, her fingertips were blue and she was still shaking like a leaf. Arthur placed the kettle on the stove and turned around, cursing under his breath. His lips were as blue as hers and now she noticed he chattered too.
"Fuck, I hate you, Tommy. You fucking arsehole ... Are there at least blankets and pillows in the beds?" He asked and she nodded. "Alright. I'm gonna light the fireplace. Stay here, it'll be warm in a few minutes."
Millicent took a seat in front of the stove, closed her arms around her lower legs, making herself small. Thomas' coat was wet inside and out, from her dress and the snow, but she felt like she would freeze in an instant if she took the wool cloak off.
"Look what I've found. They hung on the backside of the bathroom door," Arthur said, stepping in the kitchen.
He held two dressing gowns in his hands, one for a man, one for a woman.
"Oh, good," Millicent sighed, finding the strength to smile a little bit.
"There's a laundry basket in the bathroom. In it I found these," Arthur said and pulled two pairs of wooly socks out of his pockets. "They may be stuck on Tommy's feet for days, but honestly, I don't care right now."
"Neither do I," Millicent answered and got up.
"I change in the bedroom, you stay here, alright?"
"Thank you, Arthur," she answered, taking the dressing gown and a pair of socks out of his hands.
She changed in record speed, getting rid of the wet clothes right after he closed the door behind him. The dry socks felt heavenly and, after a look over her shoulder she stood naked in front of the stove for about half a minute, just to get a bit dryer and warmer. She took her undergarments, cold and wet, from the chair where she had placed them, and thought about putting them on again. She shook her head, deciding against modesty. Arthur was her husband, he would soon see her naked, presumably in the next few hours as the Shelby's were so eager to have him consummate the marriage. She covered her body as good as she could manage in the dressing robe, knotting the belt two times.
"Dressed again?" Arthur's voice came from the other side of the door and he knocked softly.
"Yes. Come in, please. Tea, Arthur?" She asked and he stepped in the kitchen, smiling.
"Much better, isn't it? And yes to tea, Millie."
He closed the door behind him and took a seat at the table. His lips weren't blue anymore, he looked more relaxed, still aloof and imposing, even in a dressing gown and socks.
Once the tea was served he spoke again: "I'm sorry. For everything. This mess was obviously not planned. I ... I wanted to bring you in our home, not in Tommy's newest hideout."
She shrugged and enjoyed the warmth inside and out, caused by tea and the fire in the stove. They emptied the pot of tea in silence.
"More?" Arthur asked and she shook her head: "No, thank you. So, let's get over with it, don't you think?"
"Get over with what?"
"I heard your brother, I'm not deaf. He's coming by tomorrow, checking the sheets for blood."
"No need to hurry things, Millie," Arthur said cautiously, shaking his head.
"No need? Seven men lost their life tonight. Your brother suggested consummating the marriage right in this godforsaken backyard. I have no idea why my blood on a piece of fabric is so important but maybe we should just ... ruin a sheet before even more men lose their life."
"It's because ...," Arthur started but she lifted a hand: "I'm not interested in the details. Please, spare me."
Millicent got up, walking to the door: "Do you want me to be naked when you join me in our marital bed, Arthur?"
"You're brave, Millie." Arthur answered, stepping to the drawers and opened one after another.
She didn't care what he searched for, he would follow her soon. And he did, he was only two steps behind her. "Wait," he said when she fumbled with the knot on her dressing gown.
Millicent looked up and noticed the knife in his hands.
"What are you doing?" She asked. "Are we in danger?"
"No, guess not." He rolled up his sleeve and cut a thin line in the skin on his upper arm.
Then he pulled the blankets off the bed and cocked his head, studying the sheets. He smeared some of his blood on his finger and rubbed the finger over the sheet, causing a smudgy blood stain.
"No witnesses. Just our word and a bloody sheet. No need to hurry, Millie. We've got time. I guess I owe you at least that."
"That's enough? Our word and a bloody sheet?"
"Of course. It's been good enough for King George and Mary of Teck, it'll be good enough for Thomas fucking Shelby, don't you think?"
Millicent smiled: "I like the way you think, Arthur."
"I know happy marriages started with less." He stated, smiling back.