Eleanor woke the next morning, having slept through the night for the first time since coming to her parents house. She would have slept better with Tommy beside her but the romp in the boathouse it seemed had been enough to allow her enough peace to fall asleep. She was still in her party clothes and felt rather rumpled so she had a bath and dried her hair, only then did she go down to breakfast quite late. Her father had left on his hunting trip and her mother and the twins were likely out on some long walk at this time in the morning. She took some toast from the breakfast spread on the sideboard in the dinning room and poured herself a cup of tea from the place laid out for her at the table and carried both out to the back lawn.
Tommy was standing, looking out at where Eddie was putting one of the horses through her paces, the eternal cigarette dangling between two graceful fingers, a cup of coffee on the table beside him. He looked up when she came out onto the little gravel lawn closest to the house. The look he gave her was enough to freeze her in her tracks. She put down the toast and tea on the table beside her. "You're leaving." She said. It was not a question.
She'd known he would and yet, somehow she'd managed to not quite believe it.
"I wanted to wait until you were awake." He said.
He'd wanted to see her. More than that, he wanted not to feel like he was sneaking out of the window while she slept. It was one thing to talk about rings and babies with her mother as if she had already agreed, it was another to leave her without a word of reassurance.
He'd sat up long after her mother had retired from the study thinking about strategy. The situation in Birmingham he knew not enough of to ponder much on that; besides he had decided his general strategy there: no prisoners, only burning ground beneath his feet. The question of Eleanor though, of the baby, of his path there he was less certain. He'd decided, in the end, not to confront her with the knowledge of the pregnancy with her before he left. Now wasn't the time. With the turmoil of him leaving, the fight that waited for him in Birmingham, the state of mind she was clearly in was not one in which he wanted to ask her to marry him.
No, when he asked her he intended to have a a clear conscience, a ring and enough fucking time to argue with the surprisingly intransigent will beneath the pliable, submissive girl who knelt at his feet, eager and open-mouthed. He was a more than observant enough man to have noticed the little moments of rebellion that were not to be solved with a belt or a bit of rough fucking. You'll get no apology from me. The way she'd looked just before she'd started to walk, to cross the cemetery to safety as if... for a moment she thought of disobeying his command. He did not want this to be the issue on which all that soft, supple willingness opened up onto the steel he could sometimes feel beneath.
He could feel his knuckles tighten on the railing of the porch and forced himself to relax. Another benefit of waiting would be to give himself time to let his own hot-headed feelings wane a bit. Going back home to Birmingham, putting a bullet or a fist into the skulls of whoever had caused this mess, letting a little bit of time pass, all of it could only serve as a bit of time to allow himself to develop a tactical, rational distance from his current emotions.
It would not be strategic to let her see the part of him that wanted, more than anything, to either fuck or beat a truthful answer to the question of how long she'd known she was pregnant out of her. So help him if she'd known when she'd taken him in the car from Birmingham, if she'd risked not just herself but his child... he pushed that thought back. Not the time for that now, Thomas, he reminded himself. You'll have the rest of your life to make sure it never happens again.
"I'm taking the car back to Birmingham within the hour."
She bit her lip. "Are you sure I can't come with you?"
"No sweetheart." He said. "Birmingham won't be safe for the time being."
"When can I come back?"
"I'll fetch you"
She swallowed and went to him. She stood on her tiptoes and snaked an arm around his neck, pulling him down to kiss her. He obliged, parting her lips and exploring her mouth with his but only tenderly. He put one arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him, on to her toes and arching her a bit against him so she was just slightly off balance. He allowed himself to indulge the desire to run a hand up the side of her, letting his thumb trail over her stomach, memorizing the very subtle little swell beneath her frock. He kissed her top lip, then her lower lip and then broke it off. "I don't want you to go." She whispered, pressing herself inside his jacket, hands wrapping around his waist beneath it. He could feel her hot breath through his vest, just over his pound heart.
"I know you don't."
She looked up at him. "You could be killed."
"I don't intend to be." He took her again in his arms and held her there until the shaking subsided.
"Promise me you won't be."
"I promise." He loosened his grip and tilted her face to his and then pressed a slow, warm kiss to her red lips, then to each red eye.
She shook her head, tears still leaking. "Just stay Thomas, please. I am begging you to stay."
"I would, if I could."
She let out a tearful little laugh. "Liar. You hate it here."
He smiled. "I will admit I'm a bit out of my element. A brummie boy like me never dreamed of rubbing elbows with the likes of your neighbors. I'm sorry if I've ruined your reputation sweetheart."
She laughed. "I don't think my neighbors ever imagined that I was ever capable of a liaison, much less with a genuine Birmingham gangster. I'm sure I'll be the talk of the neighborhood for a generation."
He cupped her ass under her skirt. "Surprised to find you liked a bit of rough were your friends?"
"No more than I was, I think."
"I'm learning a lot about you this trip the countryside as well though." He mused. "Perhaps I really should take your mother up on the opportunity to come back, eh, Ellie?"
She blushed, looking furious. "Oh Jesus, don't call me that please, it sounds even worse when you say it."
He laughed. "What, you expected me not to notice that no one in the world calls you Eleanor here?"
She shook her head. "I can't stop my mother or David and Abigail from calling me that but you're not allowed Thomas Shelby."
He gripped her ass a bit more firmly and tilted her chin up to meet his gaze. "And how, Eleanor, Arden, do you propose to stop me, eh?"
"If you call me that in Birmingham, in front of Polly, it will be a cold day in hell before I ever suck your cock again."
That got a rare, genuine smile from him. "An obvious bluff is a liability, sweetheart. Empty threats only make you seem weak." He told her fondly, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
She didn't protest his leaving again but neither did she let him stray to far from her. It was as if, knowing he would soon be gone, she needed him at arms length from her in the meantime. She asked the cook to make him sandwiches and coffee for the road, and to bring them both tea on the lawn. Her mother and the twins returned just as they were finishing tea.
"Oh I'll be sorry to see you go Mr. Shelby." Lady Arden said, helping herself to tea. "As will the neighborhood I'm sure. You've been a real breath of fresh air."
"Where are you going?" Annabelle asked.
"Back to Birmingham."
"Is it nice there?"
"Sometimes."
"As nice as here?"
"Not usually."
"Then why go back?"
"I have some business there that needs finishing."
"Can I come visit you in Birmingham?"
"Not just now."
"Will you come back again?"
"I'm not sure. Your gran would have to invite me."
"Oh I'm sure she would." She turned to Lady Arden. "Wouldn't you nana?"
"Yes dear, of course Mr. Shelby would be welcome any time."
"Are you going to kiss Ellie before you go?"
"Do you think I should?"
"Yes."
"Well alright then." He obliged with a rather chaste kiss for Eleanor across her knuckles.
"Not like that..." She began but her grandmother put her hand across the child's mouth.
"Mr. Shelby we've had a wonderful time having you. I do hope you'll come back anytime Birmingham can spare you."
He got into the car and turned gunned the engine. In the rear view mirror he could see Annabelle run after the car for a few paces. Behind her Eleanor faded into the distance. She stood beside her mother and both watched as he disappeared down the driveway, back to the city.
The country days were an unimagined hell to Eleanor.
She sat in the garden, watching the ice in her squash juice melt and felt as though the slow trickle of condensation down the glass was like the sands of time running far to slow through an hourglass that had no end. At first she had tried to keep busy, filling her days with her old country routine: garden parties, riding, calling and walking. She'd tried exhausting herself and her mother with a flurry of activity. But none of it had helped.
It didn't matter how weary she was when she crawled into bed. Sleep didn't come for hours and when it did it was full of horrible things. She was back in the abattoir only now Tommy hung from one of the meat hooks, dangling limp and pale but still dripping his lifeblood onto the floor. She stared at the ten of sword's card in Polly's hand but now the man turned his face to her and she could see that it was Tommy. And always, always, always in the dream she looked down to find that her legs were soaked in blood. That usually was what woke her up, the shock of the blood down her skirt. She woke in a cold sweat always and several times had to run to the restroom, throwing up whatever little morsel of food she'd had for dinner at the images that came to her.
In the end she'd simply given up trying to sleep or dull the pain of not knowing if he was dead or alive.
She remembered the feeling of moving through the house like a wraith. In the days after the death of Gabriel, she ate and bathed if her mother reminded her. She went where she was invited but all of it seemed as if she was sleep walking. She might have fallen into a similar pattern again except... except for the the little thing, a secret source of strength, growing within her. The baby. Her baby. His baby. With Tommy gone it was somehow easier, or perhaps just more important, for her to cling to the little bit of him growing within her. At night she curled around it protectively when she missed him the most profoundly. In the day the smug, secretive feeling it gave her made the rest of what she had to endure bearable. She ate without prompting, took the twins on a walk when her mother asked, all with a feeling of detachment, exhaustion. At various times during the day some small effort, lifting spoon to mouth during the soup course of dinner, running herself a bath, she would be suddenly gripped with a fatigue so profound that she wondered if she would be able to complete the task instead of sinking down where she stood.
The only time the weary feeling lifted was when she let herself slip into daydreams. Blue eyes with long lashes, a dark head of hair, soft little legs and tiny, perfect fingers and toes... those were the thoughts that galvanized her to eat, smile, maintain the facade.
By all reason she should have felt terrified to be pregnant and unmarried and yet all she felt was something akin to the emotion she'd felt the first night she'd gone to the betting house: detachment and fear, depersonalization and elation, terror and anticipation. Despite all the complications it would bring she couldn't wait to begin to show a bit more. Already she loved to run her hand over the small swell where she knew it resided. What would it be like when the baby began to kick, to move within her. And when the baby came, that she longed for even more.
She was conscious that the neighborhood was already whispering about her but found she cared very little. This was no longer her real life, not like Birmingham. Where once she would have been devastated to know that the grand dames whispered behind their fans that she'd whored herself out a man who made his money on horse racing and worse, now she found that it mattered less to her than what the old matron's of Small Heath had said behind cupped hands. She'd just grown used to being Tommy Shelby's whore in the eyes of the world.
She'd grown to like it.
David and Abigail made a valiant attempt to cheer her up. David most of all invited her on nearly constant walks, rides, trips to the village. She went around to the Smythe house almost every evening for dinner.
The night before she'd stayed late playing a hand of whist with the siblings and their mother. When David had offered to drive her home as she had walked over for the exercise she'd taken him up gratefully. They'd driven with the windows open at her request, the night air being rather fresh and her feeling as if she might nod off at any second.
When he'd stopped the car just over the old bridge that led to Belton house she'd turned to him. "Has the car..." She began but was cut short when he leaned across the seat and pressed a kiss to her lips.
She reeled back, shoving her off him. "David, stop that!"
He leaned back slightly but didn't put the car back into gear. "Ellie," he said quietly. "Be reasonable."
"What exactly do you mean by that?" She snapped.
"You know how fond I've always been of you. I'm trying to tell you that I still feel the same way... the way that I did when I asked for you to marry me."
"David...I'm fond of you too. But my feelings as well have not changed."
There was something a little cold in his voice when he said, "your feelings may change in time. It is your circumstances however that have prompted me."
"My circumstances? What of them?" Her voice matched his in coldness.
"I'm offering you a chance to start over. Surely you must know the damage you've done to yourself." He said in a softer tone, ignoring her question. "I want to help you."
"I have no idea what you're talking about David and I sincerely hope you're drunk. I'd thank you very kindly to drive on and let me down at my own house without saying anything else foolish that we'll both regret in the morning."
"I want to marry you Ellie."
"Don't be ridiculous."
"I don't mind that he's had you. You won't have to pretend with me as you will with another man. You made a mistake but I forgive you. You'll want nothing as my wife, I'll take care of you."
"I would thank you not to continue with this conversation."
"I'm offering you a chance to save yourself." He hesitated. "Ellie... I would raise the baby as my own."
She had been staring straight ahead, refusing to meet his gaze. But at that her eyes flashed back to him, blazing with anger. "What the fuck do you think..."
"It's not hard to guess why you're skipping cocktails these days." He interrupted softly. "Abbey's stopped even offering you one."
She blinked, unable to refute him but unsure what else to say.
"I wouldn't fault you for it. If you're worried that I would hold it against you, I wouldn't." He reached for her hand again. "I know that you were vulnerable in Birmingham, alone and still reeling from the loss of your brother. Your parents never should have allowed you to go, I told them as much. He must have told you all that you wanted to hear, must have been convincing..."
"David, please stop talking like this."
"I love you Ellie, I'll always love you." He said. "I forgive you."
Her mouth pressed together into a line. "I don't need your forgiveness David."
"Think of the baby Ellie. Do you think it would be better off without a father? Or with a father like that? A fucking mobster."
"I'm not talking to you about this David."
"Has he threatened you? Are you worried about your safety, the baby's? I can protect you, surely you know that. I could take you to Spain or Germany for a few years, even America if you like, to let the whole thing blow over if that's what you're worried about..."
"Tommy would never hurt me."
He blew out a disbelieving noise. "He would never hurt you? That man? He already has! The damage he's done to your reputation here, if you don't accept me, it will be permanent. No one in their right mind will allow their son to offer for you with a bastard child on your hip. Even if you came to your senses and took care of it, there will always be rumors enough to make sure you'll never be acceptable to any worthy man."
"Don't talk about what you don't understand, David."
She opened the passenger door and got out onto the bridge. She started walked toward the manor. She heard his door open and close behind her and wasn't surprised when he caught her wrist, whirling her to him.
"You would be his whore then?" He snarled. "Rather than be my wife?" He pulled her back violently against him, spinning her around.
She put both hands to his chest and shoved him as hard as she could, wrenching her arm back. He didn't let go but she did manage to put some distance between the two of them. "I will be his whore until the day that I die David! No matter what else happens to me." She hissed at him. "Now get your fucking hands off me."
"And if he never comes back from Birmingham?"
"He will."
"If he doesn't? If he's shot dead by another gangster? Or moved on to another whore? What will you do Eleanor, if he makes a ruined woman of you?"
"I will be a ruined woman."
"You're out of your mind!"
"Let go of my arm David. Right now."
He looked down at her for a long moment and then, to her relief, let go of her arm. "When you change your mind let me know. I will find some way to take care of you."
She spun on her heel and walked off down the road, listening with real fear for the sound of the crunch of footsteps following her. To her relief though she only heard the car roar to life, turn on the bridge, and head back down the road away from Belton house.
Back in the back garden she watched the condensation roll slowly down the glass and fought the urge to scream at it to hurry up. Didn't it know that every second that passed here without news of if Tommy was dead or alive was a torment? Didn't it know that even in the bright sunshine she felt as if the world was full of storm clouds and rain?
She heard boots on the gravel and turned to face the man coming up the path. "Hello papa." She greeted him.
Lord Arden was a short man, almost squat, with a ruddy red face and mustache from two decades prior. He had the eternal look of the colonel he had once been in the army, a man ready, at any time, to scramble forth to muster. He was dressed for hunting, a long shotgun dangling, broken in two at his side. The score of pheasants slung over one arm announced that his trip had been a success.
"Ring for some sandwiches Ellie, there's a good girl." He commanded, sitting down in the chair opposite her.
She smiled and obeyed. When the serving maid came to see what they needed Lord Arden passed off the gun and quail to her, though the girl looked as though she rather preferred not to handle the bloody carcasses of the birds. "Some sandwiches, please, Nell, and maybe some sherry I think."
"Good sport Ellie, good sport." Her father said encouragingly.
"Seems you've won over the kingdom of beasts today papa."
"I should say so. It as a good show. You should come tomorrow, I'm returning there to see if there's any left to be cleaned out."
"I can't be bothered to get up that early papa. Annabelle is a better bet I'm afraid."
"The spirit is willing but she can barely hoist the gun. She'll be a good shot someday but those spindly little arms, your mother should feed her up."
Nell brought them the required sandwiches and sherry and retreated back. Lord Arden tucked into the sandwiches while his daughter poured him a sherry. "Where's your mother got off to then?" He asked.
"She took the twins into the village to see the tailor. She says they need new outfits for the London season."
"Oh good lord. Glad I was out and not available to be chauffeur. How did you manage to avoid the task then?"
She shrugged. "I slept in. I was at the Smythe house late."
"The Smythe's again? You go there almost every night!" Her father frowned. "I don't like that David Smythe Ellie and I don't mind telling you either. He was a fine little boy but he's grown up to be a right blighter, if you'll pardon my language."
Eleanor couldn't help stifle a laugh. Strange that her father would bring that up, given what had passed between them the night before. But she had been surprised by her father's intuition before. For all he appeared to care for nothing but hunting and riding in the day, and sherry and military history at night, she had seen moments where he had acted with instinct that bordered on clairvoyance. It was him who had gone to fetch Annabelle and Micheal from Frances and Gabriel just two days before Gabriel had shot himself. Whenever she was almost out of money on holiday or in Birmingham, having frittered her allowance away on something on an impulse, the phone would surely ring or a telegraph would arrive with a message from her father and a few extra pounds on some flimsy pretense.
"You think he's grown up to be a blighter papa?"
"Well he has! Has he not?"
She took a sip of her sherry. "I suppose he has. It's only..."
"It's only what?"
"I'm surprised to hear you say it."
"Why ever so Ellie? You know he's a coward through and through, probably better than I do. He never signed up for the war, after all, never even as an officer."
"I think he had a medical dispensation papa."
Her father let out a grunt that made it clear what he thought of that. He took a healthy draft of the sherry and set to the last of the soggy offerings meant to accompany tea. Eleanor rang the bell again to ask for a healthy slice of the game pie from the night before, knowing that getting out in front of his appetite with something more substantial was imperative.
"Well what did you think of Thomas Shelby then?"
"That bloke who came in on a stretcher?" Her father frowned. "A bit your swain wasn't he?"
"I'm not sure. Did you think he was my swain?."
Lord Arden grimaced. "A girl shouldn't ask her father for his opinion of nor advice on her suitors Eleanor, you know that." He was quiet for a moment longer then added, "now there's a man who fought in the war."
"Did mama tell you he did?"
"No, she didn't need to."
"What do you mean?"
"I've never a met a man who didn't fear death who hadn't seen hard combat."
She glanced up. "How do you know he doesn't fear death?"
But Lord Arden's patience for the philosophical had run out. He was watching the girl cross the lawn with what looked to be a healthy forth of the game pie. "Good lass, good lass." He encouraged her as she approached. "Set it down gently." To Eleanor he said. "I've got a sudden hunger for those rather fine scones your mother always has lurking about somewhere. Ellie, tell this girl to fetch us some at once!"
She knew better than to try to get an answer from her father that he didn't want to give so she asked for the scones and some more sherry as well. Her father took to the pie with his usual enthusiasm, making quick work of it. When the pie was gone he stretched out in his seat, contented for the moment in the knowledge that the scones were on their way. He took a cigar from the pocket of his vest and lit it contentedly.
Eleanor watched the smoke curl up into the blue summer sky and poured herself another glass of tea, wishing it was whiskey, wishing the smoke was from the end of a Sweet Afton.
What will you do if he doesn't come back from Birmingham? Trust David Smythe to say exactly what she herself was asking herself almost constantly. At first she'd thought about leaving the countryside, not sure she could bear to stay. She could go to London but Tommy wouldn't be looking for her there and she thought it was not such a good idea to call or send a telegram. If he wanted to send her news he would have done so, the fact he had not meant he did not want her to contact him presently.
She touched the little fleck of silver that hung beneath her dress just between her breasts and let herself run her hand over her abdomen. In another month or so the little flicker of life within would begin to show underneath her dresses. What would David Smythe say to her then? What would she say to her mother? Her father? To Polly and Ada?
What would she say to Tommy?
She knew him well enough not to worry that he would oppose her keeping the baby if that's what she wanted. He wasn't a man to shirk his responsibility, nor deny that he'd had equal part to her in what had happened. She didn't think he would be angry at her either, he was too rational for that. There would be no horrible scene, no accusations or questions of paternity. That was not her worse-case scenario, at least not in the rational light of day. If she had to guess she would have bet he would offer her some kind of arrangement, an allowance and a small house, something more than generous. But would he come see her again? Fuck her again? Would he take her as she wanted him to? Or would one mistake be enough for him? Now that he knew she would keep his mistakes, would he want to risk another?
Sitting on the floor of the abattoir she'd mourned the fact that she hadn't owed him anything. It had been fine to owe him her life she had learned, tolerable. He had not, as she had feared, changed his bearing toward her in the slightest. It had felt miraculous, like she'd spun some great gambling wheel and come home with all her winnings.
But how would it be to owe him a second life?
TBC
AN: Well I think that's the first chapter in like the last ten without smut in it. Still my usual trash but no gratuitous banging. I hope you enjoyed it anyway and don't worry I'll get right back on my bullshit next chapter :) Sad to say I think I'm coming to the end of this sweet story. It has been SO much fun and I hope you have enjoyed reading half as much as I enjoyed writing. Thank you all SO much for the generous reviews. They have certainly been the wind beneath my wings as I write and I'm already plotting my next bit of Tommy/OC smut (still just a vague outline in my mind but maybe a little bit of Alpha/Omega shit? Just more straight up BDSM... I haven't made my mind up entirely). Please let me know what you think of this chapter as always my beloved fellow deviants.