It wasn't the entrance she hoped for - or expected in the very, very least. Claire blinked away the burning in her eyes. She would not, could not, cry. Not here. Not in front of these people. Not in front of these… these strangers.
Two large hands gripped her wrists, making her look up at the man. Sam, his eyes wide with worry, hovered over her.
"Claire," he shook her slightly. "Are you okay?"
She hated the frantic tone in his voice. Hated his devouring touch. She didn't want to be touched. She wanted space - air, to be alone.
The haze that had enveloped her mind ceased. She glanced at the lady in the purple coat - it wasn't Neta, and from the looks of everyone else in the room, the lady was likely Beth, Desmond's wife.
"I'm fine," Claire said, her voice unusually pleasant. She tried to smile, tried to find an excuse for this. "I'm fine, Sam. I just..."
Oh god, what would she say?
"I knew someone with that same purple coat and… and it just surprised me. And… and that vase was very slippery. I think some of the water had spilled from the sides." She was rambling now and Sam seemed to take the bait.
His grip on her lessened until he held only one hand, and wove his fingers through hers. He smiled.
"You were frozen like a statue," he murmured only to her. But he took a step to the side, letting his family have a view once more of Claire. "Come meet my family, we'll have someone clean this up."
Claire caught the look he gave to Desmond as he led her across the room. She used his energy and matched it, meeting his parents, younger sister, aunt and uncle, and lastly Desmond's wife.
She met them with such polite enthusiasm, it was as if nothing had happened. They didn't catch the sadness in her eyes, the lack of spark that hadn't been there for months and months. They didn't notice that whenever she could, she'd turn away from them- to the windows - and barely listened to their stories from the latest gossip, to business, to things she didn't care a bit about. She longed to be away. Away…
Claire found herself wishing she was back at the Arrow House in her cozy room, with Meredith, with the rest of the staff, even with Tommy.
The rest of the day, past dinner, continued with surface level conversations and questions that made Claire cringe internally. They didn't go back to the stables. Sam seemed to have forgotten but Claire didn't.
His family was nice, she couldn't say otherwise, and they accommodated her whenever they could. They were fun, a little rambunctious but Claire observed them like an outsider. She didn't know what had changed but she saw his family in their little bubble. Perhaps it was seeing them enjoy each other's company without a second thought, because they had all the time in the world to be with one another. Or perhaps, it was because of what Claire knew, what she experienced, and witnessed.
These people were born into wealth and high society, much like she was. They were sought after and looked up to. The public would please them to no end… and they didn't have anything to fear.
They sat in one of the libraries, the men smoking their cigars and the ladies tasked with a bottle of champagne. Claire never liked champagne, but it seemed Beth did as she guzzled the bottle down.
Beth was a character. She was loud, outspoken and liked attention. She was funny too, making Claire laugh on several occasions for crude remarks about the men. She'd taken off her coat making it much easier for Claire to even look at her. And every time she did, she'd feel a little better… sometimes a little worse. Up close, Beth looked nothing like Neta - making her feel so much better about it. But then came the thoughts, the memories, of Neta, of her coat.
Despite her attire, Claire liked Beth. She became Claire's distraction, falling into the gossip and latest news of Cheshire. Beth herself was a complete gossip - though that was likely to happen to any woman who didn't work, had a well-off husband, and bore no children.
A clock somewhere in the house chimed. Its haunting sound echoed into the room. Claire took it as the time to excuse herself, painting the picture of a simply tired young woman.
"Let me walk you," Sam shot up from his chair. The smell of whiskey was heavy on his breath. She could use a glass of that.
"No," Claire pressed, her hands lingered on his arm and chest. "I'm fine. You're in conversation." She nodded to Desmond, his father and uncle.
"Very well," he said, eyeing her with one brow raised. He pulled her into his chest and kissed his head.
"Goodnight, Claire."
She didn't reply. Instead, giving him a small smile and nod, then turning on her heel. She tried to keep her pace even as she left the room, knowing there would be some eyes on her. As soon as she reached the hall, her feet quickened to a run back to her room.
Claire locked the door to her bedroom and stripped herself of everything but her undergarments. She sank into the bed and tears fell from her eyes before she even hit the mattress.
This was a bad idea. This pretending… this huge, huge lie. It suffocated her and Sam… Claire groaned. He was perfect in every single way but - she rubbed her face viciously, pressing the heel of her palm into her eyes until she saw stars.
It was all coming to her now - the reality of her situation. If she was with Sam, stayed with him as he so obviously wanted and live a life of picture perfect luxury (which there was a part of her that wanted to), then ultimately, Evelyn would die.
Evelyn Oppenheim would cease to exist, replaced with Claire Williams. And the Fascists that murdered her family… they would win.
She couldn't let that happen. The fate of her family's name relied solely on her.
Her eyes drifted to the desk in the corner of her room where a sleek, black telephone sat. She bit her lip partially thinking she'd gone mad… or was it the best thing she could do for herself?
She remembered what Meredith had said some days ago about Tommy… this thing she claimed he had for her. Their first few encounters, all the times he'd come to the park… keeping her secret and then finding her - taking care of her, letting her stay in the house.
He was a dangerous man, but he was protecting her. Even offering her to live at the estate and to stop working for him.
She hadn't let herself even think of it - until now.
She sat up and quickly padded to the phone, not letting doubt a single inch of space to stop her, and did the unthinkable. She called the Shelby House.
It was selfish - she knew that. Sam didn't deserve what she was about to do. He deserved Claire Williams… not Evelyn, and Claire wasn't sure how much longer she could keep up this charade.
Pacing back and forth, Claire waited for the line to dispatch to the Arrow House - specifically to Tommy's office. She knew she couldn't reach Meredith this way - but she didn't need to reach her, she needed to reach Tommy, the only person in the world who knew her secret.
She rubbed her eyes. The tears now dry on her cheeks. God, she probably looked a mess - a complete and utter maniac. She glanced down at herself, she was still practically naked. Her skin pricked from the cold air seeping in from outside through the windows.
Her breath hitched when the line clicked.
"Thomas Shelby."
For a moment, she was silent.
"Hello?" he asked again.
"Tommy," she breathed. "It's Claire."
On the other line, Tommy froze. The strain in her voice did not pass him.
"What's wrong? Where are you?" he demanded, leaning forward to brace himself on his desk. The only light in the dark room came from his desk lamp. He stared at his company's invoices in front of him - seeing but not paying any attention.
"I-," she paused. "I'm in Cheshire. At Arley Hall - with Sam. I…"
Another silence between them.
Tommy's jaw locked at the mention of Sam. She was far away with him… so why is she calling him?
"I want to go home," she said. Her voice broke before she could finish the sentence.
Her words struck him in a way he hadn't felt in a very long time. Home.
Home to the Arrow House. His house. But that was hours from her. He glanced at his watch. It was just past midnight.
"What do you want me to do, Evelyn?"
Did she really want what she was implying? For him to get her? He'd do it - he knew he would, but he needed confirmation. He needed to hear her say it.
She sighed, the sound clear as day through the phone.
"I don't know. I'm here in this room. And… and I don't want to pretend anymore. It's sickening." She paced more. She chewed on her fingernails as the memories of the day flashed through her head. It all started with that damn purple coat, but maybe it was time for her to move on, to stop pretending. "I just want out. Am I crazy if I want - want you to get me?"
Tommy listened to her breaths. They were rapid. Something must have happened for her to be in this much distress - something must have cracked.
"I know it's far," she went on. "And I can explain myself later. I'll find an excuse to tell Sam. I'll-"
"When we hang up the phone, I will call Arley Hall, ask to speak with you because Meredith is hurt, alright? Hurt enough that you need to come home and be with her."
Claire nodded rapidly. The smoothness in his voice, the decisiveness, soothed her. He was too good at making plans, good ones at that, and executing them. It was enough for her to trust him wholeheartedly.
"Alright?" he asked again.
"Yes, yes."
"It will be after three that I'll be there."
"Okay. Tommy, thank you."
He heard the brutal emotion in her. The rawness unsettled him.
"You're welcome, Evelyn."
She ended the call, placing the speaker on its stand. She really did it. She stared at her bedroom door, at the piece of wood that separated her and Sam. She barely heard the murmurs of their voices.
Tommy would call any second now and Sam would come to her, worried and sorry. Guilt lingered in her stomach. She clutched it as if she could physically push the feeling away.
This was only a temporary fix. Sam would no doubt continue to date her - or try to. If only she could be honest with him, She always held onto a hope that maybe one day she could be, but after seeing his family, the life she would be expected to live, she knew deep down that that day would never come. The Frasier's, as kind and welcoming as they are, were sheltered - too oblivious to the harrows of the world, of what she had experienced.
If Sam did know who she really was, if his family knew, it would be the same melancholy apologies. They had no idea what she felt, not a single clue, but Tommy…
Claire rubbed her neck. She needed to get in bed so when Sam came she'd look the part. She unlocked her bedroom door and slipped into a nightgown before settling back into her sheets and closing her eyes.
Three knocks and the door creaked open. Claire's eyes fluttered open. She had fallen asleep. She squinted at the door, seeing Sam's big figure stepping inside.
"Claire," he said softly, shutting the door behind him. They were enveloped in darkness. Only his weight on the edge of the bed indicated where he was.
"Hmm?" The sleep in her voice was real.
"I have news," a sourness in his voice. "Your boss, Mr. Shelby, just called. Something happened to Meredith. He didn't say but she's injured… I don't think it's good, but it's not enough to fear the worst. She's asking for you."
She was so happy that he couldn't see her. He couldn't see the deep frown on her face. Sam believed Tommy and he really did think something was wrong with her best friend. Oh, she was a horrible person.
"Mr. Shelby," he continued, the sourness returning. "Is on the way to come get you. I wanted to drive you myself but…" he barely gritted the words out. "He was very insistent."
He mistook Claire's silence for shock. His hand found hers and upon finding them clammy, he grasped them both.
"Meredith?" she asked urgently, sitting up. "What's happened? Did he say?"
"No, only that she's hurt." He paused, and Claire knew he had turned to look at her. "He's rather bossy."
She wanted to laugh. If only he had any real idea.
"You still have a couple hours before he arrives. I know she is your best friend… I can keep you company if you'd like. I wouldn't want you worrying away about her. I'm sure all will be fine."
Her stomach twisted - he was too good!
"Your family -"
"Don't worry about them. Your friend comes first. They'll understand. I'm just sad you'll be gone during the holiday."
She didn't say anything, only held his hand as she lay back down and pulling him with her.
It was so wrong what she was doing. Basically using him but she did like him. She was interested. There were feelings there that she couldn't ignore but… it just couldn't be. It just wouldn't work.
She hadn't been held in a man's arms for years. She allowed herself that satisfaction and this was likely the last time she'd ever be around Sam. He crawled into bed beside her, fully dressed and a faint but distinct smell of liquor on him. She didn't mind it - not at all, as he pulled her into him and they both fell asleep.
Tommy must have sped through the night. When he arrived at the ridiculously lit Arley Hall, it only confirmed that this was one of the most impulsive things he has ever done in his entire life. But he knew if she asked again, he would do it in a heartbeat. The estate was massive and he looked at it with a tinge of disdain as he ascended the steps of the main entrance. He wasn't even given the opportunity to knock when the door swung open and a servant silently ushered him inside.
"I will alert Madame Claire and Sir Frasier of your arrival," the old man said quietly and disappeared in the darkness of a hallway.
Tommy browsed the foyer as he waited, suddenly having the urge to smoke. He'd do that once he got Evelyn and though he was tired, he was wired to the bone. Energized in a strange, strange way.
He didn't know how long it took until he heard their voices. Evelyn's was distinct… and so was Sam's. Tommy stiffened as they turned a corner and stood before him. Evelyn, pale in the dim light, stared at him with wide eyes and Sam barely tossed Tommy a look before turning to Evelyn.
"Write to me soon," he said. Tommy watched them with no shame. He noted what Sam wore and especially that he was holding both of Evelyn's hands. He brought them to his lips. "Meredith will be fine," he said into her knuckles.
"I know… and I will," Evelyn murmured. She could barely look at him. Her eyes were focused on his chest.
He embraced her and Evelyn returned it - much to Tommy's dislike. Sam didn't let her go, until after he pressed a long and meaningful kiss on her head.
"Keep her safe," he said stiffly to Tommy, pulling away from her and finally acknowledging the other man. He reached near the door, for the small piece of luggage, and all but shoved it at Tommy.
"Always." Tommy's face was hard, almost lethal, when he took it. Evelyn went to him, unable to stop looking at his face. He always kept her safe. Tommy glanced at her, the edge in his gut finally subsiding.
"Bye, Sam," Evelyn nodded to him, a sad smile on her lips. The servant returned, opening the door for her as she directed herself to the car.
Tommy's footsteps were quiet behind her. She didn't say anything - not yet, until they were in the confines of his car. The sleek black Ford was still on and the sight was a relief. He reached around her, nearly shocking her from how close he was behind her, and opened the door for her.
She glanced over her shoulder at him, their eyes connecting - a million words between them.
As soon as the door closed, the longest breath left her lips. She didn't look at Tommy until he shifted the car into drive and only then did she look one last time at Arley Hall. The doors were closed. There was no light in the windows.
"Thank you," she said, finding her voice. She looked at Tommy. His face was straight with no emotion.
"Care to tell me what happened?" His blue eyes slid to hers, It was the first time he really got to look at her and it was all he needed to see who tired she was.
"She was wearing the same coat as my sister's," Evelyn said. She still looked at Tommy while he drove them farther away from Arley Hall. "And I… I couldn't do it anymore."
Tommy shot a quick glance to her, finding her staring at him but there was a glaze. A glaze he was too familiar with. She wasn't looking at him, but rather remembering something.
He didn't ask who she spoke of and frankly, he didn't care to know specifics, only the jist of what occurred. Silently, he reached for her hand. Even with his glove on, he felt how cold it was. She didn't move for a moment, as if she needed to register - or was too stunned by the gesture. But when she did, she held his hand firmly in her lap and it stayed there for the rest of their drive. Tommy, for a reason he couldn't fathom, wouldn't pull himself from her.