Benjamin Barker back in the upstairs room after all these years. She never thought she'd see him again. He had always caught her eye, even with Albert alive, 15 years ago. Her marriage had never been a particularly happy one. Albert wasn't cruel to her, but he was a lot older, and that was…disappointing. But there were few options for a girl of her class, and when Albert showed interest, well, she made the smart choice, the prudent choice.
If he remembered her at all from those days, he hadn't shown it. Why would he remember her? He was a beautiful, talented man, with a beautiful, foolish wife, and a beautiful baby girl. And she was…ordinary. The landlord's much younger wife. Nothing special there. But he'd always been kind in any interaction. So attentive to his work and his family.
Nellie crossed to the door and turned the sign to 'closed'. Not that that mattered. Before he'd walked in her door like a ghost risen from the grave, no one had come in in weeks. She pulled a tankard off the shelf, and filled it with gin. She took a long sip, some liquid courage, then topped it off and headed for the stairs. He probably wanted to be alone what with all the new information she'd provided him earlier, but she couldn't help herself.
She'd offer him a nice drink, and maybe later she could persuade him to join her for some stew. There were some scraps of vegetables left. She wasn't going to inflict another pie on him-she certainly didn't eat them either. She could be a good cook if she had the means. It just had been a long time since she had the means. Albert had passed on not a year after the judge had taken the baby.
Nellie made her way up the stairs. There was no bell. She'd sold the metal for scrap years back. If he was going to go back into business, they'd have to get a new one.
The door was ajar, so she paused at the threshold for a moment. She'd forgotten how bare this room was. It had been years since she'd even come up here. After it all went down, Albert cleared out what had remained and sold them. Except the box of razors, she had hidden those away. She'd always hoped that he'd come back some day, however unlikely that was, and now he actually had.
The only furniture that remained was a big black steamer trunk in the corner. He sat on it now, staring out the window towards the street. His dark eyes seemed focused on nothing. He looked exhausted, wearier even than when he'd set foot in her shop two hours earlier. The dream he'd held onto for fifteen years of reuniting with his family had come crashing down.
She was partly to blame for that. Nellie hadn't outright said Lucy was dead. She had taken the poison- that was true- and seeing what was left of her would break him even more. Better he thought she was truly dead.
She didn't knock, but crossed the room to stand beside him. She held out the gin and laid her hand on his shoulder. "Mr. T, I—"
In a flash, he swatted her hand away, and whirled round, throwing her up against the wall. She cried out in surprise and the tankard of gin tumbled to the ground. Her feet were barely touching the ground. He was looking at her with such a vicious intensity. Feral.
No, he wasn't looking at her, he was almost looking through her, still zoned out. The whites of his eyes were slightly bloodshot, and he had huge, dark circles underneath. She wondered how long it had been since this poor man had slept. His journey back to London from Botany Bay couldn't have been easy.
She took a deep breath, not an easy feat with how tight his grip was. His hands were warm against her shoulder and her hip where he had her pinned. It was oddly exhilarating, but she was acutely aware of the danger she was still in.
"Mr. T!"
With the arm that wasn't held down, she reached up and stroked his cheek. Maybe she was imagining it, but it seemed like he leaned into the touch.
"Mr. T…" she said, more softly this time.
He blinked rapidly, coming back into reality. His grip relaxed, and her feet were fully on the floor again. "I…," he faltered, leaning forward pressing his forehead to the wall behind her. He was breathing hard, and shaking a little.
His chest was warm against her cheek, and she closed her eyes for a moment. This almost-embrace was something she'd imagined many times. Hopefully there'd be more of it to come. Her hands came up to rest on his chest, hooking her fingers around his suspenders and grazing up and down. His breath hitched a little.
After a long while—longer than she expected really- he pulled away, staggering backward to sit on the trunk. He tipped forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. "Did I hurt you?" he asked quietly.
"No," she told him, crossing to sit on his other side on the trunk, trailing her hand along his shoulders.
"It is not a good idea to startle me," he said sadly, with no menace.
"I can see that," she smiled, trying to add a bit of levity back into the room. She scooted closer to him til their legs were touching.
"It has been a long time since I've been around people."
"I know, love."
"I don't want to hurt you," he said fighting back a yawn.
"You need to sleep," she told him.
He snorted. "Unlikely."
"You do." She put her hand on his knee. "You're safe here."
"I need to find a way to get to Judge Turpin."
"And you think he's just out wandering the street at all hours of the night, now, do you love?" He closed his eyes with a sigh. "You need to go about this in a smart way—otherwise he'll be shipping you right back where you escaped from. You know that.". He nodded. "In the morning, I've got an idea—"
"What is it-?"
"I'll tell you in the morning".
He growled but did not push the issue. A yawn escaped his mouth.
"Lay down," Nellie suggested. She tugged gently on his shirt, trying to encourage him to lay down on her lap, but he shook his head. "Do you want a nice gin or something?" she asked.
"Leave me."
"I could get you another."
"Go."
"Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me." She sighed, but scooted off the trunk to face him, hooking her fingers around his suspenders again. "I can find something that might help you sleep." She ran her fingers along his chest as she walked away.
She paused in the doorway. His gaze had followed her. For a moment, he almost looked like he was going to jump up and follow her right now. She turned and started down the stairs, leaning back against the wall as soon as she was clear of his view, and taking a deep breath. Never in a million years had she thought this was the way her day would go. She had dreamt about him for so long, and now her was here again in her house, and she was making suggestive comments his way, and he seemed into that? Or at least like that wasn't the worst idea in the world. What? This could prove to be an even more interesting night yet.