I've lowered the rating because, well, if you watch the show, you know what to expect. There's violence, language and sexy bits in many of the chapters, so not for the easily offended but no more so than any of the episodes. Hope you like – please review!
Rachel, 1950.
Nick was late. Again.
He'd been acting so strangely these last few weeks; Rachel didn't know what to do anymore. She'd known for a while he was dealing with some... strange people. As a lawyer, spending his days with criminals, that was to be expected and, well, she didn't mind that. After the war, perspectives changed; nothing was black and white anymore. But recently... he would disappear for hours, sometimes days. Hushed phone conversations, peculiar visits after dark. Why wouldn't he trust her? She'd told him everything about herself, before he'd even proposed, that was how much she trusted him. Thought she'd known him.
Was it possible there was another woman?
If it was just work, then surely he could tell her? There wasn't much she'd judge him for. So maybe he thought he had to protect her, by keeping her out. That thought frustrated Rachel. She was no pure little lamb, no delicate flower that needed mollycoddling. She'd lived through the same Blitz as everyone else and Nick knew well enough her childhood had ended her innocence well before that.
Perhaps it was a caveat of whoever he was dealing with; no telling the little woman indoors. Again, that wouldn't be unusual. Certainly the men who'd called a few days before, the way they'd spoken to her had given the impression they thought she shouldn't worry her pretty little head about it. Rachel was annoyed with herself that she hadn't pushed it then, that she'd allowed Mr Yorke's handsome face and pretty manners to turn her into a simpering housewife, that she'd gone back inside and left Nick to it instead of standing her ground.
And Mr Yorke bothered her. Yes, he was charming, but then Rachel's father had been charming too, and that hadn't made the bruises heal any quicker.
She knew what people could hide behind a mask - indeed, one of the reasons she'd married Nick was because he genuinely didn't have one. Everything he was, was there. He was too open. Until recently.
And it was clear he was hiding something, something huge and important. His mask was developing, but not enough so that Rachel couldn't see it, not her who knew him better than anyone. Who could these people be, what could they want with Nick? Why would they want Nick? Unless of course, they saw the same thing in him that she had; potential. He was honest, but that honesty could be twisted easily enough, as could the ambition that had been stunted by his upbringing, the same thing that had built in him that desperate need for approval, to please and make proud. She'd worked so hard to bring out that ambition in him. Perhaps she should be glad it was paying off, but still she was uneasy, worrying that Nick was in over his head. She should confront him. Yes, she would. Not an accusation, but an assertion of her support, that she would be there for him no matter what he was up to, who he was dealing with.
Resolved to action, Rachel felt a little better. As long as he had her, Nick would be alright. She could keep him from straying any further than was necessary into the dark, just far enough that he could live up to his potential.
But still she couldn't settle, prowling the empty, dark house. She'd changed for bed, but she didn't want to go to sleep yet, not while Nick was still out god knows where.
The doorbell startled her and she allowed herself a moment to slow her pounding heart before she answered it.
Henry Yorke was waiting at the door, holding his hat in his hands and that smile was back, that unnerving smile. On another man, perhaps it would be called boyish, playful even but Mr Yorke carried too sinister an air for Rachel to think of it as anything other than dangerous.
"Mrs Cutler. Rachel."
He said her name as if he were tasting it, or as if by uttering it, he was laying claim to her.
"Mr Yorke. Nick isn't at home, I'm afraid."
Rachel found she was holding the door between herself and the men, half-hiding behind it, suddenly very frightened but not sure quite why. The two men who stood behind Mr Yorke she barely noticed, her attention held by the one who was clearly their superior. His smile broadened and this time it wasn't charming, not at all. It was... predatory, the mask slipping.
"I know. I need to leave a rather important message for your husband. And you'll do very nicely."
The man blinked and when he opened his eyes, they were pure black, the monster within him leaping to the forefront as the mask was discarded entirely and Rachel knew it was all over. This man was going to kill her, and she'd never know what it was he wanted with Nick.
She didn't try to run. She could tell there was no point; she'd never get away and now, neither would Nick. He too was lost, irretrievably.
He should have trusted her. Maybe then, she could have saved them both.
I'm planning more of these, trying to decide who to focus on. Some could get a bit... grim.
Suggestions welcome - Hal doesn't have to have killed them personally for them to qualify, just be responsible or somehow involved. I'm thinking about Lady Mary, but I'm not sure I want to write the version of her she was then (although Hal referring to her as a "shy, fragile creature" could have been a wrong impression all along).