Tommy just as the gray light of dawn was starting to creep in through the window feeling a strange compulsion to be out under the open sky. He disentangled himself from Eleanor's slender limbs. In her sleep she'd clung to him, one arm across his chest and one leg thrown between his. She made a small sound of protest but didn't awaken as he carefully slid from the bed. He pulled trousers on over his naked form and opened the door. The hallway was dark the gray light beyond was bright enough that he could navigate it after giving himself a moment to adjust to the darkness.
He went out onto the back porch area and stood, looking out on the mist and the garden. A few deer were in the garden, nibbling at the grass. One looked up at him for a moment, then returned to their feeding. He lit a cigarette and watched them for a while, thinking about what he would need to do when he returned to Birmingham. It wasn't clear to him what he would need to do when he returned but he knew it would involve a lot of hard work, a few bodies at least. Polly he was sure would have gathered more information but the nagging worry of the unknown battle plan was difficult to tolerate.
He finished the cigarette and lit another one.
When dawn had truly come and he could hear the first stirrings within the house he went back into the bedroom. Eleanor had gone from his bed in the meantime. He slept for another hour or two and when he woke and came down to breakfast found that he was just in time for a rather lazy, late breakfast.
As ever her father had gone out early that morning, probably before even Tommy had awoken. Eleanor's mother had opened a bottle of champagne and she and Eleanor became rather tipsy on the strong mimosas being poured. The twins were initially excited to be served the extravagant breakfast but quite quickly became bored and begged to be let out to play on the lawn.
After the meal it was time to get dressed for the party which was an afternoon garden party. Tommy picked out the suit he liked best in the closet, a dark three-piece that, though a little old-fashioned ,was the closest approximation of his usual style. He went down to the parlor to wait for the women and was highly gratified when Eleanor came in a few moments later. She was dressed in a way he'd never seen her before, a long lavender dress that was clearly expensive enough to be a cocktail dress but somehow had an air of naivete that would have made it stand out in the city. There was a little too much ruffle in the sash and the neckline to be worn in Birmingham, let alone London. She had a set of long pearls on, which matched the large pearl and gold earrings and gold bracelet on one arm. Her hair she wore long, not fashionably pinned up short like she did in the city. She'd compromised to the fashion of the day with a little lavender ribbon that supported a delicately spray of flowers.
"Don't laugh." She said, as if anticipating his thoughts. "This is how they dress in the country."
"You look beautiful. You always do."
He was standing by the window, looking out at the lawn and the sloping driveway up to the house. He'd helped himself to a whiskey from the sidebar and had been thinking in a round about what would need to be done when he got back to Birmingham.
He was more than glad to let her slip under one arm, one small arm going under his jacket to wrap around his waist. She had been doing that more than usual, since he'd woken up. He fucking hated the idea of her clinging to him because she was scared he would slip away again, back to illness or Birmingham. When he found the men responsible for making her afraid on his behalf he did not intend for the resulting carnage to be subtle or quick. No, this would need to be a rather public lesson for anyone who thought to do something similar in the future. She and the rest of Birmingham would need to know what he did.
Perhaps this time he would bring her some ring or token from the men he killed for her. She had surprised him after all with how easily she'd accepted the necessity of what he'd done to get her back when she'd been kidnapped. Instead of flinching back in fear, tears or hysterics, she'd brushed a soft kiss over his bruised knuckles and taken her back between her legs and into her bed without so much as blinking.
But in the meantime he wouldn't deny her. And besides, nothing could diminish the pleasure of the small body in his arms. The smell of her perfume, her body was like a shot of whiskey, a warmth that spread from his belly to his brain and radiated in waves down to his fingertips. She tilted her head up for a kiss and he obliged. He kissed her thoroughly but methodically, nothing that promised any escalation. He explored her mouth gently, parting her lips and drinking deeply from her.
Since they were alone he let himself indulge, tangling one hand in her long hair and tightening his fingers in it until she felt the familiar control and melted against him, limp under his authority. As ever, something within him thrilled at the way her muscles slackened, ready to be moved however he chose, her will submitting to his the second he asked. Her lips parted and she came easily as he drew her roughly back by the hair. If they'd been in the betting parlor he would have opened his pants and with the faintest downward pressure, let her sink to her knees before him. He would have been inside her throat in less than a moment and the expression in her wide blue eyes—hunger and anticipation—let him know she knew that all too clearly. Since they were instead in her mothers sitting room he tilted her head up, bending to kiss her exposed throat once. She shivered and he let her go, loosening his fingers in her hair.
She hesitated for a moment, waiting for more, then with a sigh, pillowed her head against his shoulder.
"The long hair at least has obvious benefits." He told her quietly. "It would make an excellent handle."
"Thomas Shelby, please go fuck yourself." She murmured quietly.
He didn't restrain his smile. "Are you wet Eleanor? From that alone? Frustrated perhaps, from lack of use?"
She pressed her lips together and said nothing.
"Answer me sweetheart, don't make me insist."
"I've been wet since I got up this morning you fucking ass hole." She hissed. "Since I got into the tub with you yesterday. Since you woke the fuck up in fact."
"Don't swear, you're in your mother's house. All you'll get is a beating and no joy if you misbehave."
She glanced up, hopefully. "You'd spank me here?" She asked.
He shook his head and gave her a soft kiss. "I'll make sure you don't like it sweetheart, you know I can."
She weighed that for a moment, wondering if the contact alone would be worth the pain. If he brought her to tears he wouldn't be able to help himself from running a calming hand over her ass and flanks afterward, might even pull her up in his lap, the familiar length of his erection digging into her ass... but the glint in his eyes she knew meant he was serious about making sure she wouldn't like it. Thomas Shelby had never once struck her with a blow without all the power of his arm and his inhuman attention behind it. He could be cruel, even to her, in the right mood.
She shook her head, deciding she liked this indulgent, pleased mood better than frustrated retribution, no matter how much she knew a beating would clear her head. She could put aside her own needs, if that's what he needed her to do. She pressed her lips together and slid one hand up to curl in the lapel of his vest, gazing up at him.
"No Thomas, I will be good." She promised.
He felt his cock stir in his pants at her words. I will be good. Obedient, pleasing little thing, he had no doubt in his mind that he'd fuck her raw when they got back to Birmingham. Maybe he'd tie her to the bed for a couple of days, wrists to either bedpost but with just enough slack that he could flip her onto hands and knees to take her from behind or get her on her knees, bent forward to fuck her mouth. As sore as she'd been the day he'd taken her virginity, that's how he intended to make her feel.
He let himself slide a thumb along her bottom lip, his signal to her he wanted her mouth open. Obligingly those soft lips parted and let him slide in a digit to rest against her tongue. She kept the tongue soft, as he liked her to start when he put his cock in the same place, just letting it rest there until he chose to move it. "You always are a good girl, aren't you sweetheart? Eager, obedient. You let me do exactly what I fucking please."
She nodded, unable to speak.
If he could have he would have rewarded her by letting her kneel for a bit, something to calm her down, relax her. It wouldn't do for them to be discovered like that though so instead he took her by the hips and turned her against the bookshelf beside them. Her hands went up as he pushed her against it, grasping the ledge on either side of her head and in an instant his own hands were over hers, his long strong fingers interlacing hers, trapping them. He trapped her body against the wide dividing post, pushing her forward until her forehead touched wood. He leaned the weight of himself against her, letting her small frame feel how much larger and more powerful his was, how easy it would be for him to take her despite any struggle. He flexed his fingers in hers and nestled his cock into the warm inviting cleft of her ass, letting her feel it was half hard. With the knee that was between her thighs he parted her legs, giving him better access to her and making her gasp.
He pressed the weight of himself against her and brought one hand up to brush the hair from the back of her neck before returning to trap her again. He leaned forward and kissed the prominent vertebrae just at the base of her neck, letting her feel his hot breath ghosting over her skin like some great predator just behind her.
Her body went limp, head falling forward to expose more of her vulnerable neck.
Eleanor couldn't believe the effect the position had on her, better than any whiskey, better than any sedative. His breath against her neck, his body against hers. She felt helpless, held. And delicious, clenching, familiar heat pooled in her abdomen. She wanted to stay like this forever, trapped beneath his body, safe from everything in the world and at the same time completely at his mercy. Tommy pressed gentle kisses to the back of her neck and began to whisper something low and soothing to her in Romani, the tone one might use to gentle a frightened animal. Please, please let me stay like this for as long as you can, she thought, please don't pull back from me Thomas, hold me as long as you can.
Only when he heard the sounds of her mother and the twins coming down the stairs into the entrance hall did he step back. He adjusted his pants into a more comfortable position. She stayed there a moment longer, as if she almost hoped he would come back to hold her. But when he took her by the hand, she came obligingly. He went to where he'd left his whiskey and tossed it back, then tucked her arm in his.
"Come now, let's not keep your mother waiting."
"Thank you." She said earnestly. "Thank you for that Tommy."
Oh sweetheart, it's never for you. He opened his mouth to say it but then closed it again. It was a lie, it had been for her. He'd wanted to calm her, gentle her, even if it meant that he was now uncomfortably hard. And he lied to her so very rarely.
Instead he said nothing, but led her out into the entrance hall.
Their destination was another great house only a few miles away, not the nearest neighbor but close to it. The lad who was driving them pulled up the wide circular driveway and they went up the stairs and then through the house to the rather gay party happening on the lawn behind it.
Eleanor had not been wrong about the style of dress at the party. She looked completely camouflaged in the forest of other young ladies dressed in varying pastel shades and long pearls. They fluttered around the wide lawn like flower petals drifting on the wind, ferried between groups on the arms of young men in dark suits. Waiters passed around canapes and drinks and from the sound of conversation there was quite a bit of imbibing going on for the party was quite loud, despite having more than enough space to disperse.
They were greeted by their hosts. Abigail and her mother shook his hand warmly. They were wearing the same wrist-length lace gloves that Eleanor was. David Smythe approached them too with a waiter who offered them champagne.
"Glad to see that something finally tempted you out of the house Ellie. It has been so frustrating to have you back in the neighborhood and not coming to any party at all, no matter what the temptation." He tossed a pointed look at Tommy at that.
She laughed. "Sorry David, be sure that it wasn't meant to insult anyone."
"Not at all, of course, we understand but I, for one, am just glad you've finally seen the light and come out to socialize."
"David, you remember my friend Mr. Shelby from Birmingham. You two met at the races in London a month or so back I think."
"Ah yes, the glorified gambler."
Tommy took a sip of his champagne, wishing it were whiskey, wishing he could just punch the other man and have done with it. Lord give me the strength to endure the aristocracy. The younger man was clearly spoiling for a fight of some kind, hoping to provoke Tommy in some way, but though he was annoyed at the attempt at flirtation he didn't really feel threatened. He considered pulling Eleanor against him for a kiss but decided not to embarrass her. Even in this garden party, out of his usual element and at the other man's home, he couldn't take David Smythe seriously.
They mingled throughout the party for a while. Tommy didn't particularly care to remember the names of all he was introduced to, a litany of names and titles that seemed unending. Finally though they found themselves at the edge of the party and cut free from any conversation.
Eleanor put her half-finished glass of champagne down on one of the tables covered with a pristine white tablecloth. "This house has quite remarkable grounds Tommy, you wouldn't care to see them would you?" She offered.
He felt he'd rather do almost anything rather than listen to more of the insipid conversation around them so he offered her his arm and they strolled into the gardens. He couldn't help but feel that she had a destination in mind as the two of them wound deeper into the gardens. She was chatting away idly about the history of the house and the grounds but he was quite sure that it wasn't him who chose which direction they turned down the paths. She took them quite far away from the party, down to the banks of a fresh and wide stream that was likely contiguous with the one that cut through her family's own lands.
The path ended in a small dock, two little jets of wooden planks that jetted out into the stream. Between them had been built a little boathouse with a number of charming little crafts within, hung from the rafters to keep their bottoms clean. She took his hand and pulled him toward the little building, dropping the pretense of his arm and taking him by the hand. The second they were around the edge of the building she was in his arms, reaching up on tiptoe to press her lips desperately to his. He caught her hands in his as they reached for the front of his trousers. "Eleanor..." he began.
"We're not at my father's house." She said firmly. "We're not on his lands. You can take me here."
She was looking up at him and her pupils were blown wide with lust. He licked his lips, considering. "I'll not be gentle." He warned her. It had been too long since he'd had her and seeing David Smythe at the stupid party had riled him up, much though he hated to admit it.
"Please, don't be."
"You'll have to be quiet with the party so close."
She nodded eagerly. "Anything you want Tommy."
"Kneel."
She knew how she liked it when she used the tricks she'd learned at finishing school to make it pretty for him. She sunk to her knees as gracefully as a ballerina, spreading her legs an pulling her skirts up over her thighs to give him a glimpse of her garter. He regarded her for a moment as she looked up at him standing over her. He slipped a thumb into her mouth and she opened it for him, letting him rest the digit on the soft expanse of her tongue.
"You would do anything that I ask you now."
"Yes Tommy."
"I could deny you your pleasure and take my own and you would thank me for it."
"Yes Tommy."
"Slip your gown off your shoulders and push your bra down."
She wriggled obediently out of her top, pulling down the thin sleeves and her brassiere to bare her breasts to him.
He opened his pants and pushed into her mouth. She accepted him eagerly, swirling her head around the sensitive crown of his cock before pushing down farther, tongue skimming along the seam at the bottom. His head fell back and he groaned in pleasure. He tangled both hands into her hair and let himself handle her roughly, smearing the careful lipstick as he thrust into her mouth. She gagged slightly as he thrust but he paid no attention, pushing her all the way to the base of him. She didn't struggle though, she never did. He held her to the base of his cock for a moment, looking down to meet her eyes, still turned up to him. He knew she couldn't breath with his cock so deep down her throat and yet she didn't look panicked. Despite everything in the world, despite what had happened, Eleanor Arden still trusted him. Still wanted to please him even at the price of her own breath.
David Smythe would never see her like this. On her knees, debauched and well fucked she was at her most beautiful. And he would never see her so. No other man in the world would, not if Thomas Shelby still drew breath.
He drew her back and jerked her roughly to her feet by her upper arm. She came easily and let him push her several steps back to the back of the boathouse. He turned her to face one of the rough and cheerily painted beams, pushing her against it until she was flat to it, crushed between his body and the hard wood. With one hand he caught both her wrists, jerking them back behind her so she was completely helpless. He kicked her legs apart roughly and with the other hand pushed up her skirt. He almost groaned when he saw she wore nothing beneath the long, conservative skirt but the garter belt. So she'd been planning this since she'd gotten dressed this morning at least. Beautiful, little whore, he thought gratefully.
He hadn't given her any time to prepare but when he thrust into her, driving deep and heedless of her comfort he found her already wet and willing. Still she had to stifle a muffled moan. He was still quite big for her. No matter how much training he gave her, no matter how willing she was, she found him difficult to accept even under the best of circumstances. At this angle and with little preparation he knew the feeling would be intense. "Tommy..." She whispered, voice edged with a plea.
He paid her no mind though. He pulled her arms up, forcing her more tightly against the wood and drove his hips into hers at an angle he knew would push her sensitive little clit against the beam whenever he pushed into her. "Tommy...oh Jesus, please have mercy Tommy, please, please... oh God."
She was panting as his speed picked up and then with a little whimpering cry she was cumming. She started to wail and he clamped one hand over her mouth to silence her. It was his last coherent act. The feeling of her contracting on him was enough to put him over the edge. With a final thrust forward he pushed his body to hers, thrusting up into her and pressing the length of him against her back, crushing her between his chest and the beam. His still bruised ribs screamed out in pain but the how of it was lost in the explosion of pleasure as he spilled into her.
When he returned to his senses he found himself still sheathed within her. She was limp, held up by the weight of his body against the beam. He reached around to the front of her and found the little pleasure button. It was the work of less than a minute until he brought her body to another shuddering little orgasm, her muscles spasming around his now soft length. Whens he was finished he slid out and let go of her hands. She braced herself against the beam as she stepped back, zipping up his pants.
"You can turn around." He informed her. "I've finished with you for now."
She turned to face him, almost shyly. "Thank you..." She said. "For not denying me."
He winked. "Almost always an idle threat with me. The only one I ever make I think."
She smiled. "I think I would have cum just from you fucking my mouth truth be told. I can hardly think of anything else these last few days."
He lit a cigarette, trying not to smile to broadly at the thought of her walking around the garden party thinking about sucking him off in the boathouse. "Fix your face Eleanor, if you don't want to announce it to the world."
She laughed and dug in her purse for her compact and makeup. It was the work of a moment to restore her lipstick and powder. If you looked closely you could tell her lips were perhaps slightly more swollen then they had been but the color was hidden beneath the dark lipstick and he doubted anyone at the party would suspect what was behind the difference.
"We best get back to the party then." He said.
David Smythe was waiting for them almost at the edge of the party when they returned. "Ellie, I've been looking for you all over. I had mother open some of that champagne you always took so partially too. I told her that you're so rarely in the country we better spoil you now if we ever want you back." He said. "Come have a glass with me."
David held out his arm. Eleanor shot him a questioning look though before she took the other man's arm. Tommy smiled benevolently. "I think you'd better try it." He told her.
He met the other man's eyes. David looked rather angry that Eleanor had asked his permission before accepting his arm but Tommy smiled back with real good humor. "No need to hurry her back to me, Mr. Smythe. She always comes when I call."
The other man's tone was icy. "Right then."
No sooner had the two broken off form him then Abigail Smythe waved him over. "Yoo hoo! Mr. Shelby! Oh Mr. Shelby! Do come over here to be introduced."
She was standing in a circle of women roughly her own age, all dressed in what seemed to be the uniform of the party for the unmarried: the same kind of soft pastel taffeta or silk dress that fell modestly to the knees. "This is Mr. Shelby, a friend of Ellie's from Birmingham."
Tommy had the distinct sense that Abigail had rather told the girls a little bit about him before he had arrived for they all looked at him with a shy nervousness. "Mr. Shelby is a gambling man. Isn't that right Mr. Shelby?" She said with a wink.
In the car on the ride home Eleanor put her head against his shoulder and nodded off against it as he wound up the long, quiet country road. Mrs. Arden had taken the twins home early in the evening but sent the car back for them so he let the girl sleep, enjoying the quiet moment of just the two of them. She was still asleep when he pulled into the driveway so he left the car there instead of taking it to the carriage house. He went around to the front steps and knelt. He slipped an arm under her knees and shoulders, ignoring the protest of his own ribs and the wound and lifted her. Her dress spilled out over his arms like a waterfall of crinoline and lace. Warm light spilled out of all the windows of the house as he mounted the steps with her. A servant pulled open the door for him and he carried her to her room.
He placed her gently on the bed. She stirred slightly in her sleep as he took off her hat, shoes and stockings then pulled back the sheets on the other side, lifted her again and slid her beneath. He bent an placed a soft kiss on her lips, when he rose he found her mother was at her door, looking in at them.
He pulled the covers over her daughter and then stepped out into the hall.
"You wouldn't care for a drink, would you Mr. Shelby?" She said.
"I would."
He followed her to the parlor where she took out a decanter and poured two glasses of an amber liquor. She handed one to him and then went to sit on the edge of one of the sofas facing the fire. He chose a seat across from her and sat as well. "Charles has gone to bed already, he intends to be up in the morning quite early. I'm afraid I'm more of the night owl of the two of us."
"So I see."
She considered him for a long moment and then opened the drawer of the small table beside her. "I've been trying to think of a way of giving these back to you without causing a fuss and I simply can't think of it." She drew out a small handkerchief and leaned forward to hand it to him. Tommy put out a hand and she placed it in, leaning quickly back.
Tommy opened the handkerchief and inside found the set of sturdy brass knuckles he sometimes kept on his watch chain and the little snub-nosed pistol he'd had in his pocket the night he'd been shot. Someone had taken the larger one from his hostler clearly but had missed the small gun in his pocket.
"I didn't want to put them with your other things in case any of the servants found them." She said, by way of explanation. She hesitated. "They are your, are they not Mr. Shelby?"
"Yes."
This time there was a longer hesitation before she managed to get her question out. "You are... a man of violence then?"
In truth Tommy didn't use the brass knuckles much. He found mostly that if he wanted to turn another man's face into pulp he wanted to do so in a way where he could feel the man's bones break against his own. But he didn't feel that would be an appropriate answer to Eleanor's mother's question.
"Yes."
She nodded and took a sip of whiskey. "I thought so." She sighed. "David Smythe says you're some kind of gangster. That you run a criminal family in Birmingham. He told me that I should ask Ellie not to speak to you. That I should tell her its a matter of her inheritance if she doesn't break the association."
"Do you intend to?"
Lady Arden considered him for a long moment and then shook her head. "No." She watched his expression carefully and then, to his surprise, laughed. "Are you shocked Mr. Shelby?"
He decided that if they were to have this conversation, if she'd found the revolver and been told more or less what he was, it hardly mattered if Lady Arden knew that he smoked. It could only go better if he could sooth his nerves.
"I am surprised." He admitted, fishing the cigarettes and lighter from his coat pocket.
She pressed her lips together. "She loves you. You know that don't you?"
"Yes."
What did it matter to split hairs with her mother on whether or not she loved him or if what she felt for him was something more sinister? Tommy had seen enough alcoholics in his days to know that she'd taken to him like an alcoholic to whiskey. Only a few hours ago she'd let him use her on her knees in a boathouse with her social peers close enough to hear if she'd screamed as she'd really wanted to. That she wanted him, wanted what he did to her body, was clear enough to see. She'd risked damn near enough to prove that to him and the world, coming back to him after she'd been kidnapped had been proof enough but taking him back to her family's estate... The girl clearly had no sense when it came to him.
If her mother wanted to call that love he was not going to correct her.
"Do you love her?"
"Yes."
That at least was an easier question for him to answer. Perhaps he hadn't always loved her. When he'd given her the silver necklace he'd thought his feelings had been more primal, a desire to own her more than love her. The moment she'd put the silver around her neck she'd been bound to him in the eyes of any gypsy, bound to him by blood, a spell that could not be broken. Traditionally he should have slashed palms and mingled their blood together to bind the spell of the silver but he'd decided to count the virgin blood he'd spilled from her as that part of the ritual.
But Polly had been right, as she always ways. He hadn't been able to tell the difference in the end between possession and love. Somewhere along the way though the desire, the need to control and consume, had become much more than he intended. She had wormed his way into his heart, right in there next to Arthur and Ada and Poll, John and Finn there she now stood, another piece of his family out vulnerable in the world. Eleanor, who wanted to be tied and beaten but not married. Eleanor whose parents called her Ellie, who didn't want to talk about her dead brother, the countess who kissed him in her mother's rose garden and the whore who bent over his desk whenever he asked- he wanted all of it. Not just the fucking and spanking but the stupid parties in the countryside, her hand in his at the races, the way she took his arm in the movies or spread her legs for him on a picnic basked to let him feast on her. God but he was a fool. The bruised ribs and stab wound were a cheap lesson indeed. He would have thought he knew better.
He mother took a sip of her whiskey and said, very quietly and looking into the fire, "she's pregnant."
Tommy's heart turned over in his chest. He felt as if he were walking down a flight of stairs and suddenly found the next step twice as far down as he had expected, a sudden giving away of expectation that left him stunned. He thought of her in the boathouse when he'd turned her to the beam. When he'd finished with her he'd run his hands down her belly and flanks to bring her off with his hands. Had there been some subtle swell he had missed in his haze of lust? He could almost feel her smooth skin under his palms, the fine hair over a very fine curve that had certainly not been there a few months ago. And then every muscle in his body seemed to harden at the thought of it. His knuckles on his whiskey glass suddenly pale and the fine line of his jaw stood out to even more prominence.
When had they stopped being careful? He racked his brains, trying to think. Had they ever talked about when they had stopped using the capotes? But he wasn't even sure he had been fully conscious of the change. It was after he'd brought her back from the cemetery and the abattoir he realized with a start. That afternoon, against the vanity, he had taken her without one, needed to claim her with nothing between them and done so without consideration of either the consequences or the significance of the act. It hadn't even really felt like a decision as he'd never stopped to ask himself the question of if he should. Afterward there had been no part of him that thought to reach for one. The instinct to do so had simply vanished from his mind.
Was it possible that some part of him had wanted this to happen? Wanted to get a child on her? Yes. No sooner had he asked himself the question than he knew the answer. He loved her didn't he? Wanted to keep her with him, against all probability and sense. What better way to tie her to him forever than a baby- a literal piece of him planted within her. Better than the cords to lash her to the bed, better than catching her wrists at the small of her back. Even if he hadn't made the decision consciously he knew some part of him had done this on purpose.
And more shameful still came another thought, an even less worthy one. The idea of her pregnant with his child was enough to make him rock hard. The posh girl who got on her knees for him, now he'd knocked her up as well. He'd had the last of her virtue. There would no pretending to another man or the world that she hadn't first been his. She'd come to him an innocent, a virgin, and he'd had every last bit of her honor now. He wanted to go back to the room where he'd left her and slide into bed beside her. Warm and sleepy he'd part her legs and thrust in, waking her with a gasp, then thrust in until he spilled himself deep within her, onto the fertile soil of her womb.
He pushed the image away. Tempting though it was, it was not immediately practical. And more to the point her mother was now peering at him with a curious look. He wondered how much of his thoughts had shown on his face and fought not to look away. "How far along is she?"
"I'm not sure. Early days I think. She hasn't told me but her bedroom is close to mine and I can hear her in the morning when she's sick. All the women in my family have horrible morning sickness, particularly when we carry boys. I had to be hospitalized with Gabe."
"I see."
The countess took a small sip of her drink. "You do not... you do not doubt that it is yours then? Do not... deny it?"
"It's mine."
Lady Arden adjusted the hem of her skirt and then said, "there are always options of course. There's a convent nearby that takes girls... a doctor a few counties over that I've heard of..."
"That will not be necessary." Even to himself Tommy's voice sounded sharp, too loud for the quiet hour of the evening. The white knuckles on the glass tightened even more at the suggestion.
For a long moment they regarded each other. Lady Arden cleared her throat gently. "You'll come with a ring then?"
"Yes."
Lady Arden pressed her lips together. "I suppose... I suppose that Eleanor had mentioned to you that she never intended to be married. She likes to tell people that, but she never likes to talk about why. I don't suppose she told you, did she?"
"No, she didn't." He admitted.
"Not one for hard truths our Ellie, and never about Gabe. For her, well, he hung the stars." She sighed. "But you deserve to know the truth I think, why she doesn't want to be married, if you are to ask her for her hand."
She took a long sip of her drink and then met Tommy's eyes without reservation. In her expression he saw a familiar sadness, the longing and pain that was in Eleanor's eyes when she spoke of her brother. In Poll's eyes when she thought about the babes she had lost.
"He killed himself. He fell in love with his wife very young, they married young too. He thought she was the love of his life she was less content, less serious about him. When he found out his wife was unfaithful for the second time, he couldn't bear it. Eleanor always admired him, looked up to him. She took it the hardest of us all, in her own way, and she blamed Frances, his wife, for the loss of him. I'm not sure she got over it, none of us did of course but Ellie... I had to take her to hospital a fair number of times in those first months, when she wouldn't eat or drink. I thought I'd loose both my children to grief.
"It was like a miracle when she decided she wanted to study to be a midwife, like that thought brought back the animus to the corpse that had been lying in her bed for a month or more."
She had said nothing when he'd said that it had been no one's fault that her brother had died. An accident she had called it, not exactly a lie but not exactly the truth either. Eleanor never liked to talk about unpleasant things. She only wanted not to think, to feel peaceful, to focus her mind on a single task, to kneel and obey.
Lady Arden passed a hand over her face, looking tired and, for the first time, as old as she was. "I don't mean to burden you Mr. Shelby, with a bit of sad old family history. But you deserve to know why she feels the way she does, even if she won't tell you herself. It's only... she's quite a headstrong girl in her way. I really do believe her when she says she doesn't intend to marry."
"To me she will say yes."
Eleanor's mother considered him for a long moment before saying, "you're sure?"
"I do not intend to die with any bastards Lady Arden, not by your daughter."
It wasn't so much confidence in her willingness that made him so sure, but rather in his own determination.
The lady hesitated, then raised her glass to him. "I would drink to that Mr. Shelby. Let me ring for one of Charles' nicer bottles so we can celebrate properly. You prefer whiskey to champagne I think?" She raised the little silver bell at her side once. When the girl from the hall came in she said, "The Macallen eighty-six from the cellar Claire, please. You'll need to ask Edward for the key to the locked case."
"Right away Lady Arden."
"I'm surprised you're in the mood to celebrate Lady Arden." He said when the girl had left.
"My daughter is to be engaged. Why shouldn't I be?" She asked. The words were formula, reflexive good manners meant to smooth over the moment of unseemly honestly but her expression wasn't horrified, quite the contrary she looked at him with real interest.
"Gypsy from Birmingham. No title. Can't have been who you were imagining for a son-in-law." He didn't add a man who she knew had been in at least one fight with mortal intention, a man with brass knuckles and a pistol in his pocket.
She considered that for a long moment, then said very quietly. "I've lost one child to melancholy Mr. Shelby, I'll not lose another. Frances was everything in the world that was proper and respectable and because of that I think... well, I wonder if I didn't overlook some of the things that I could have warned him about. And you, Thomas, well she looks like the little girl I remember when she looks at you.
"I thought about asking Charles to look into your business, your history, your family and suitability but none of that would change the way Ellie looks at you, would it? She's here. She can stand to look at the twins, listen to her father and take tea with her mother. She can bear to walk the halls her brother walked again for the first time in years. As for the rest..." she brushed her hand over the couch next to her as if to clear away some dust. "It's not something anyone will remember in a generation or two."
Not something that anyone will remember in a generation or two. This was how these people thought, these rooted, settled, entitled people. People who built houses that lasted hundreds of years and accumulated wealth that lasted nearly as long, who had whiskey from their grandparents and didn't think twice before ringing for a girl at this hour to bring it. All that easy power, generations of men and women who had never gone to bed hungry or fought for their place in the world: men who were officers not sappers and foot soldiers and women who knew how to hold their shoulders and pour a glass of tea—it added up to a confidence in their place in the world that couldn't be shaken by a daughter who took up with a scoundrel.
"You think she came back here because of me?"
That at least explained why her mother seemed to like him so much. If she thought he'd brought her daughter back to the family estate, thought he'd marry her when there was little hope she would be married otherwise, it made a little more sense why Lady Arden seemed so unnaturally predisposed to like him.
"I know she did."
"She shouldn't have."
"There's never been a use in telling Ellie that she shouldn't do something she's set her mind to. Skinned knees... broken collar bone...a horse that's five hands to big for her... or you Mr. Shelby, when it comes down to it."
He leaned forward onto his knees and met her gaze directly, pleased when she didn't shy away from the bluntness of his regard. "When she is my wife, I'll take better care of her then that."
Her mothers eyes widened. "I hope so Mr. Shelby, I certainly hope so."
He raised his glass and to his surprise she finished her glass of whiskey in a single drink. He tilted his own back.
The girl came in with the new bottle, no doubt an exceptional vintage and decanted it. She put out two fresh glasses for both of them and made her respects before slipping back out. Lady Arden leaned forward and poured them both a generous portion, handing one to him. When she she leaned back on the couch, skirts carefully arranged around her she spoke again. "Now that's settled, I suppose we should speak specifically then. Her dowry is not enormous but it's a sizable sum. Charles will have the exact number in his head. He can go through it with you tomorrow before you go, and the estate and rents and so on as well. I suppose it's not to early to start thinking of the crest, if you'll want to change it I mean when the land passes to your name. Charles would be so flattered of course if you would consider keeping the words and the seal of course but... that will be your choice."
"What do you mean?"
Her eyebrows rose. "Eleanor is to inherit. If you are her husband it will be your name that the lands will pass to in reality. Did you not know that?"
He frowned. "The estate will not pass to the twins?"
Lady Arden shook her head. "The twins were not Gabriel's, not by blood. He raised them as if they were but it was always clear that... that the estate could not be theirs. Their mother made that clear enough to all of us." She frowned. "You didn't know that she was to inherit then? You thought her only to have her dowry?"
Tommy's head was swimming. The estate did complicate matters. He'd not have it said that he married her for her money, or the title. There would be scandal enough with the match, compounding that with the math people were surely to do on the number of months between the marriage and birth was inevitable. He would spare her the whispers that she'd been trapped for her title if he could.
"The estate will remain in her name." He said firmly. "She can manage it how she wishes. When it passes to our children though they will be Shelbys of course but in the meantime I will not intervene. And as for the dowry, there will be none."
Lady Arden's frowned deepened. "If you're worried..."
"Gypsies have no concept of a dowry. Rather the contrary, we pay a bride price."
"A bride price?"
"Paid to the family of the girl." He did not mentioned that it was specifically to the father of the girl and meant to compensate him for bringing a virgin girl to the alter. Nor that he meant to compensate Lord Charles Arden double for the pleasure of having had his daughter well before her wedding night.
"I don't think Charles or I would quite know what to do with that." Lady Arden said with a little nervous laugh.
"I would never dishonor you daughter by not paying it."
"Charles might protest."
"It will not change my mind."
He intended for hers to be rather extravagant in fact. It might mortify Eleanor if she ever found out the exact sum he had calculated but it would serve a dual purpose. He was not sure how much Lord and Lady Arden knew of him or his business but he intended to show them that he was both not in need of their help financially and in some way... that he was not a man to be taken lightly. Paying a shocking bride price would signal to her parents that he was not just some gangster who had knocked up their daughter but someone who had the means and intention to take care of her afterward. Then there was the simple fact that as leader of the Peaky Blinders he would be expected to show his wealth and power with an extraordinary price. Whatever he paid would only serve to increase his power in the eyes of other gypsies.
"You'll want to marry her in a Catholic church I presume?"
"Yes."
She laughed, drumming her fingers on her chin. "With another man I think I might see if you would compromise. But from the way this conversation is going I'm not sure that will do me much good. Perhaps if she weren't pregnant and I could have asked Charles to do the negotiating it might have gone better."
"We can be married by an Anglican priest as well, I have no objection to it. But she'll need to have a Catholic ceremony as well or she will never see her as truly my wife."
"Is that important?"
"Yes."
For her and their children's safety it would make all the difference. It was one thing to grab Tommy Shelby's favorite piece of snatch off the street but he intended to surround her and their children with such a threat of retaliation that the streets of Small Heath would be the safest imaginable place for them. Starting with legitimizing her status as his wife was the first step.
All of that though would have to start once he'd righted his own fortunes in Birmingham.
TBC
AN: Merry Christmas to you all! Here is my Christmas present to you! It's terrible smut as usual but no less than you would expect and hopefully what you wanted good girls and boys. I'm so sorry I didn't write back to the comments last chapter! I am the WORST (definitely on Santa's naughty list but we already knew that). Please, please, please let me know what you think of the chapter! As usual I love it when you point out specific parts you like! FEED MY PRAISE KINK PLEASE. :) Twinelove