Chapter Content Warning: canon-typical content.

The Head and the Heart

1919

Grace carefully considered the sky, kept her eyes trained there. There or on the dying plants, or the murky reflection pools, looking everywhere except at her companion. There wasn't much to see, just a grim blanket of gray sky and fading foliage, leaves carried and tumbled about in the light wind. The wind chilled her even through the coat and tightly wrapped scarf, but she didn't mind that. Grace was only grateful it wasn't raining.

"The sister…" Campbell mused, continuing his oration, something Grace had responded to thus far with mere nods and hums. "She was at the museum. Got in a scuffle directly after."

Grace had fallen a few steps behind the inspector, losing herself in the hazy reflection in the fountain's still water. She was listening, but found herself lost in other thoughts.

Grace had met Campbell when she was little more than a child, long before she became an orphan or an operative, a barmaid, or a hired girl or a tutor. She supposed the relationship with Chester Campbell and her role as an operative were the only true things she held in her life any longer, the only bits left of her true self, the true Grace Burgess, but the meetings had begun to give her an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach. The visage reflected in the pool wasn't the Grace Burgess she had once been. This Grace lived a much different life from that of the girl Campbell knew, the girl Grace recognized.

It was actually more the tutoring than anything else that distracted her thoughts as of late, keeping her up to devise lesson plans and write out assignments, occupying her mind when she was meant to be relaying mission updates and discussing strategy. The tutoring and the girl were an integral part of the mission now though, so the distraction could be dismissed. As for the sleep, she had taken to staying up late anyhow. This new Grace didn't find reprieve quite so easily.

There were moments when she forgot why she came to Birmingham in the first place, forgot why she gave up her home in Ireland to live in a dingy room and she supposed that kept the sleep at bay a bit too, the loss of what mattered. She still held to the idea of this being about her father, even if her mission now began and ended with Thomas Shelby, omitting completely the IRA. It was the moments when she remembered that she wasn't in Birmingham for her father that the unease crept in, thoughts that this was all too much, that what she needed more than revenge was peace, and that for the first time in her life, she was starting to resent the parade of lies. These were the thoughts that overtook her in the quiet moments.

The predictability of her days helped. The Garrison, the Shelbys, and her work with Campbell created a routine in which Grace felt a certain comfort. She was learning to read them all, even the Shelbys, and she'd struct an undeniable balance with it all, something that resembled peace, even if it was built on misrepresentation.

And if anything was riddled with deception, it was her qualifications. Grace hadn't taken any teacher preparation courses. She considered herself to be quite the expert on governesses though, having gone through enough of them in her youth, but she certainly wasn't one. The lie she told Thomas, and then to Clara, had slipped off her tongue as easily as any of the others had.

Hailed from Galway.

Raised a good Catholic girl.

Running from unwanted pregnancy.

Worked as a barmaid in Dublin.

Why shouldn't she add 'private tutor' to the list?

Tommy hadn't requested any sort of proof of her training. She was deemed, after some mysterious test, clever enough, and trustworthy enough, to leave his sister in her charge, or very nearly in her charge. In the little under two weeks of lessons, Tommy had repeatedly found ways to linger in the Garrison under one guise or another.

"Are you sure it's wise to be so close?"

"Hmm?" Grace said, looking up from the reflection pool, finally making eye contact. "She doesn't remember it, sir."

"How can you be sure?"

"She would have told her brother."

Grace was certain the girl either didn't remember or failed to make the connection on that day. She had been upset at the time and Grace had been situated at the Garrison when Tommy brought her in, her presence in the pub at that moment almost like an alibi of sorts.

And Grace knew there was something significant there between Thomas and Clara Shelby, something which set their relationship apart from that with the others. Grace had decided on the uniqueness of the situation from the moment Tommy carried the girl into the Garrison that afternoon to get patched up.

Aside from the one near smile, she'd not seen or heard of a side of Thomas Shelby that wasn't hard and bristled, but Grace watched the girl blur his rigid boundaries, ignoring the cautionary growls and almost always seeming to retreat before meeting the sting of a bite. It seemed an instinctual thing, navigating her brother, and even when she miscalculated, the girl still had her brother's quick forgiveness. Grace hadn't expected the man to be good with forgiveness.

"And Thomas has been open with you regarding his sister's opinions?"

Grace nodded. "He has been considerably open with me, especially about his sister."

"The girl likes you then?" Campbell smiled.

"Quite the opposite, sir." Grace cleared her throat. "She's quite concerned with her academic situation as well as the placement of her brother's attention." Grace glanced up at the Inspector. "I do feel if the girl trusts me, her brother's trust will follow."

"And you can accomplish this?"

Grace nodded. "It's well under control, sir."

Campbell shook his head as he sat beside Grace, unable to hide the laugh from his voice. "So, the head of the Peaky Blinders is a child, then? A little girl?"

"No, sir, I believe Thomas is the head," Grace said, "but the little girl has his heart."

"You speak of heart with this ruthless savage." Campbell sighed, clasping his hand over Grace's. "I still feel you are too decent for this work, Grace."

The girl's unyielding dislike unnerved Grace in a way it shouldn't have. She recognized the looks Clara directed her way, the purposeful edge regularly slipping into the girl's answers, the indignant, "well, my brother says…" constantly sneaking through her lips. Grace knew the power little heart-holding girls had over the men who adored them. She had thwarted two potential stepmothers by the time she was Clara's age.

And Clara Shelby's discontent was more dangerous than Grace let on.

Grace didn't necessarily blame the girl for looking after her brother's interests, the brother that by Grace's measure was something closer to a parent to her. Tommy admitted to nearly raising her and the other brother, Finn. He had offered her the abridged explanation, brief and only as it pertained to his sister. The father wasn't around for the kids, gone completely for ten years now. The mother was gone when the twins were young. His brothers and sister and his aunt were what was left.

Tommy's sticking around during his sister's lessons or coming back early to retrieve girl had Grace curious, about his actions, about the small admissions she earned by listening to him, by laughing with him, by smiling with him. So far, the information she'd gleaned had been offered in the name of helping her to get on well with his sister. Grace always stowed intelligence like that away because it pertained to the girl, but it pertained to Thomas Shelby, too. It told her something about him whether he intended it to or not.

Grace spotted the girl coming out from the snug a few seconds before Tommy did. "Finished already?"

Clara glanced at her for a moment before stepping in front of her brother, her back to Grace, no true evidence that she had even heard the question.

Tommy looked at his sister, a casual smile still on his face, the subtle response to a story Grace had just told him, something about her childhood, something simple and universal enough that wasn't a lie. "Grace asked you a question."

Clara leaned against his knee. "Can you take me home?"

Grace barely heard the question. The girl had mumbled it, barely moving her lips to let the words escape. Tommy reached out to push a strand of hair behind his sister's ear, one of those unique tender moments Grace had trouble reconciling with the head of the Peaky Blinders.

"What's going on with you today, eh?"

Tommy had informed Grace that his sister was in a mood as soon as they'd shut her away in the snug. She had presumed it was simply the day's excuse for him pulling out a chair and settling at the table rather than leaving the girls alone, but Grace was nearly convinced it was the truth.

Clara shrugged, redoing the hair tucking Tommy had just finished, leaning into him again.

"Are you sick?"

She didn't look it, a bit tired maybe, but with no other clear signs of ailment. Jeremiah had removed the stitches on her head, leaving a decent bit of scarring, but there were no infections, no complications. By all accounts, she was very nearly mended and cleared for both work in the yard and her lessons.

"I just want you to bring me home." Clara climbed on his lap, shifting closer to his chest when he didn't move to accommodate her.

Tommy budged then, sitting up straighter and shifting her towards him. "Does your wanting to go home have anything to do with the work you're meant to be finishing?"

Clara fidgeted with something, her back still to Grace, the girl obscuring half of Tommy's face.

"Please, Tommy?"

Tommy glanced over his sister's head, eyes flitting to Grace's for just a moment, smirking with just a glance and her cheeks flushed. Tommy pulled his pocket watch from Clara's hand, slipping it back in place.

"That's the fourth question you've not given a proper answer for."

Clara shrugged again and Tommy's hand found her chin.

"Are you finished with your work?"

Clara shook her head as much as his grip allowed, reaching up to rub her jaw when he dropped his hand.

"Then you best go get on with it."

"Can you sit with me since you're skipping your meetings?"

"I'm speaking with Grace."

"I can sit out here, then."

"You can go sit right back in the snug."

Tommy put her back on her feet and Clara folded her arms across her chest.

"But, Tommy—"

"Clara, I—"

"Maybe a glass of water would help?" Grace offered, the scraping of her chair sounding though Tommy put out a hand, slowing her movement as he looked to his sister. She recognized the familiar cadence of their interactions, knew that Clara was inching towards Tommy's bite even though the girl had yet to recognize it.

"Grace asked you a question."

Clara's shoulders rose slowly before finally falling, hands balled into fists. "No, I—"

"I didn't ask you the question." Tommy turned her by the shoulder, pushing her a step closer to Grace.

Clara glared at him for a moment before turning to face Grace full-on, dropping her arms and the subdued tone. "No, I don't want the bloody water."

Grace's lips parted for just a moment. She swallowed once before she and Tommy spoke simultaneously, her words lost and fallen away beneath his deeper tone.

"Most kids talking like that at school earn themselves an afternoon of writing out lines, isn't that right, Gr—?"

"Good thing I'm not at school then," Clara answered.

Grace let out a small laugh, followed by a deliberate clearing of her throat. She tried to sober her face to meet Tommy's eyes.

Tommy's lips pulled halfway to a smirk as he caught the shine in Grace's eyes.

"Good thing Grace is your teacher and not me, more like. 'Cause if it was up to me you'd have used up all your chances on that silly little word."

"I was just telling the truth."

"You were just being smart."

"No, I—"

Grace cleared her throat and while Clara stopped herself short, only Tommy shifted his eyes to her. "Perhaps we can all agree to not use those words in the future and we'll just leave it for today? Since before now it hadn't been discussed?"

Tommy raised an eyebrow. "That's awfully forgiving of you, Grace."

"It wasn't an established rule, Thomas."

"Oh, it's been a long-established rule in the Shelby household, right Clara?" Tommy turned to his sister who merely shrugged.

Grace smirked again. "Well, not between us, not until just now. But now that we've had the discussion, I'm sure it won't happen again, right, Clara?"

Tommy nudged her and Clara nodded.

"Right, so you knew what you were doing," Tommy said. "But Grace wants to forgive it, so it's forgiven. I expect you've got… What do you think, Grace?" He looked to the barmaid. "Another hour with those papers?"

"But—"

Tommy interrupted his sister, pulling the watch from his pocket and slipping it into her hand. "Take this with you. Stay in there until the hour's up. And this is the last chance, eh?"

Clara clasped her hand around the watch and pushed around her brother to go back to the snug.

"Can I shut the door?" The girl asked, turning back to them when she didn't receive an answer. "Your incessant speaking is too loud for me to concentrate."

Tommy nodded, his face neutral though he wanted to smirk and Grace chuckled as the girl pulled the door shut, rattling the pane of glass. Tommy shook his head as he turned his attention back to Grace and his whiskey.

"Mr. Shelby, she's—"

"Trying?" he offered. "That's just how the Shelby women are, always trying on one's patience."

"I was going to say she's not enjoying the lessons."

"She's not here to enjoy herself. She's here to learn something."

Grace shook her head. "A girl like her, well—I have two more things I'd like to discuss as part of our deal." Grace looked to Tommy, a certain brightness in her blue eyes, a calm smile on her lips, hands flat on her lap while she waited.

"Two things? I've already given you more money for the dress and agreed to the singing," Tommy answered, smirking as he sipped the whiskey.

"Well, these conditions are about your sister."

"My sister?"

Grace nodded. "First, I'd like to be allowed to take her out for some practical learning."

"Practical learning?"

"She's clearly a smart girl, but I think she'd benefit from seeing things, having some hands-on learning. I know she won't have been given the opportunity at the school. And she's made it clear she won't be happy sitting here with me all day."

"I'll consider it." Tommy fished a cigarette out of his case, rolling it along his lip before lighting it and looking to Grace. "And the other thing?"

"I think you should put her back in school."

Tommy dispelled a puff of smoke before looking at her. "Trying to put yourself out of a job already?"

"No, Mr. Shelby, of course not." Grace dipped her hand into her pocket, pulling out a pamphlet.

"Her moods are no longer enticing to you, then? I warned you she wasn't nearly so sweet as you thought."

Grace ignored his teasing as she slid the pamphlet over to him. "There's a school just across town. You said yourself she wasn't being challenged before. She'd be challenged there."

Clara was the type of child who would learn whether someone was teaching her or not, the type of child that was too curious for their own good if left alone. And Tommy had been right; his sister hadn't been challenged. Grace was quite certain Clara hadn't ever been properly tested in her eleven years, not academically or otherwise. She seemed to do her fair share of testing others though. Grace was certainly feeling tested, had a feeling Tommy was too.

"There's tuition, but I suppose with her capabilities she would be scholarship eligible."

"You think I can't afford to pay for my sister's education?"

Grace opened and closed her mouth, sending him a straight-lipped smile. "I just think she'd be eligible, Mr. Shelby. She's at least a year ahead in everything except the mathematics, but she's naturally quick with that, so it shouldn't be any trouble preparing her."

Tommy glanced through the pamphlet. "So, you'll prepare her then? For these exams?"

Grace nodded. "So long as she's allowed the outings, and I'm still allowed the singing. She could start there in the new year."

Tommy folded the pamphlet as he fit it in his pocket. "I've already said yes to the singing and that I'll consider the outings." He flicked his cigarette. "And Grace, I'd like you to stick with preparing her for the examination. Don't go teaching my sister any of your diplomacy skills."

Warmth crept into Grace's cheeks as she smiled at him. "I can't help what she picks up on naturally, Mr. Shelby."

Nearly an hour more of conversation had passed when Tommy heard the bell and glanced away from where Grace stood, polishing glasses at the bar. The top of a flat cap emerged through the front door, a small pudgy hand wrapped around the wood.

"Finn?"

"Oh, hi, Tommy. Pub's closed?"

Tommy nodded and Finn turned his back on him for a moment before Isiah followed, both sets of eyes sweeping over the empty room.

"What're you boys up to?"

"Is Clara here? We're supposed to play."

Tommy raised an eyebrow. "Play what?"

"Just playing in the lane, Tommy." Finn rolled his eyes. "She said yes last night and Isiah came down special for the afternoon."

Tommy glanced at the older boy then back to Finn. "So, Isiah came down special and you want to play with your sister in the lane?"

"Yeah, Tommy." Finn climbed into the seat beside him. "And Clara said yes last night."

"What's brought that on?"

"Ruthie got a new ball, but she won't play unless Clara's there because she don't like being the only girl and Clara said she'd only play if Isiah played, so I got Isiah, and Clara's gonna be on my team because she's got a good kick."

"Probably all the stomping she does." Tommy glanced at Grace. "You think she's finished?"

"Must be nearly." Grace moved towards the service window at the end of the bar.

"The boys can take her off your hands, then?" Tommy asked.

Grace turned to him and nodded, knocking as she pulled open the window.

Clara glanced up at the opening shutters, her feet rested on a chair while she read the book she'd brought from home. The pile of questions Grace had handwritten for her sat at the end of the table, discarded there by Clara upon being sent back to the snug.

Grace glanced at the papers. "How was it?"

Clara shrugged once, closing the book and stepping out of the room towards her brothers and Isiah, leaving Grace to come from behind the bar to fetch the papers herself.

"How did it go?" Tommy asked.

"Fine, Tommy," she answered, setting the watch on the table as she leaned over the arm of his chair. "Can I go with the boys?"

Tommy nodded. "Stay away from the Cut. Be home for Polly's supper," he said to the twins before shifting his gaze to Isiah. "Your dad out preaching tonight?"

Isiah nodded.

"Then you come in for supper, too. Tell Polly I told you, alright? And you two, no teasing, yeah?" Tommy glanced back at his siblings.

Finn was halfway turned when he answered, the boys already heading for the door.

Tommy nodded then, and Clara set her book on the table. "Can I leave this?"

He took a breath, raising his eyebrows at her. "What do you think I am, a—?"

"A pack horse," she answered. "Please? I don't wanna get it dirty."

Tommy smirked. "Alright, but no fighting, with your brother or anyone else, alright? And stick by the boys?"

"I know, Tommy."

Finn called back through the door for her and Tommy waved her off. Grace scanned through the blank papers as she returned to the table, handing them off to Tommy as Clara slammed the pub door behind her.

Tommy glanced at the time when he heard the creak of the steps. He hadn't heard from his sister since sending her upstairs with the unfinished papers, and he hadn't expended the effort to go check on her either, but he expected her to be asleep by now.

Tommy had settled at the table with the books after sending Polly home. The extra time at the Garrison and in the yard had cut into time he usually spent with the business. He had needed an evening to catch up, even if that meant being awake well past midnight. He wasn't eager to sleep anyhow. He'd get things in order now and be on track moving forward.

He could feel the daytime visits to the Garrison were nearing their end. When he sent his sister upstairs with the papers and a mandate that they be finished, Tommy saw some sort of shift in her, some understanding. He'd been waiting nearly two weeks for that.

And then there was Grace to consider. There was no doubt the woman interested him, the way she didn't cringe away from Small Heath's lesser qualities, yet he could tell she was surprised by it. And she was a liar, but she had a curious mind and she could hold her own with Clara, had understood the girl quicker than most.

Tommy knew Grace was right, that his sister was hating the lessons as they were and that she'd need a proper school. The outings would help for now, and the idea of being prepared for a real school situation would help too. He'd let Grace be the one to introduce those ideas to her, allow her the credit she was due. Hopefully, that would help things too.

"It's late," Tommy offered, his eyes pulling up from the books as Clara entered the room.

"You told me to finish."

That was his directive, presented when he sent her up the stairs after pulling her away from supper with Polly and the boys.

"You're finished, then?" Tommy nodded towards the papers and she shook her head. "You've been working this whole time?"

Clara nodded once, a stilted and curt movement, and Tommy started to speak into the quiet, interrupted on the first syllable by a sob breaking from his sister's lips, her body quaking as she stood across the room.

Tommy exhaled, thinking of the other brother asleep above them as her sobs rang through the lower floor. "Alright, come here. Sit," he said.

Clara shook her head, arms crossed over her chest with the papers clenched in her hand.

Tommy reached over to pull her closer, taking the papers from her as he rubbed a hand over her arm and shoulder, a bit surprised she didn't seek his arms, merely putting her hands on the arm of his chair to keep the distance.

Tommy tilted her head up to him, her sputtering tears now directed at him as she howled.

"What is it?"

Clara wailed at his question and Tommy brought her onto his lap, pushing her face against his chest, muffling the howling as her body shook against him.

"Alright, Clara girl. It's alright."

Tommy continued to murmur the gentle words, his hand rubbing small circles on her back. She'd gotten quieter after a reminder of the twin sleeping above their heads, but Tommy could still sense the tension in her body, the stress in her clenched shoulders, that extra bit of vigor in the hand grasping his shirt.

Tommy flipped through the pages he'd sent her away with, blank aside from eraser marks and cross-outs, and then he sighed, feeling rather like an idiot because he'd forgotten. Grace had told him his sister seemed to be ahead in everything except the math, told him that the work would be testing Clara beyond what Grace thought she had been taught at the school, just to see, just to be sure.

He dropped the paper on the table.

"Alright, Clara, c'mon, my girl. You've gotta settle. It's alright."

"It's not alright," she finally answered, voice raised as she spoke through the tears and the great gulps of air she was taking to supply them.

"No, you're right, and it won't be if you're decided on being upset."

Tommy twisted her from her spot against his chest, pulling her arms from her face when she raised them to hide behind. He took the watch from his pocket, slipping it into one of her hands for the second time in a day.

Her body still shook but Tommy smiled as she exposed the watch face, her breaths growing deeper and slower as she monitored the clock hands, timing her inhales and exhales as he'd once taught her. Tommy's breathing followed, slowing as he matched her, his ears following the steady ticks while his eyes stayed on his sister.

"So, it's not alright, then, eh?" Tommy said.

Clara shook her head. "I can't do it. I'm too st-stupid."

Breathing nearly slowed, she placed the pocket watch back in her brother's hand and tried to move back against his chest, but Tommy stopped her, forcing her up on her feet as he set the watch away. His hands found the sides of her face.

"Clara, look at me."

She was shaking her head, trying to pull his hands away as she kept her eyes away from him. "No, Tommy. I'm an idiot. I c-c-can't do it a-an—"

"Enough, alright? I want you to listen to me."

"But I can't do it."

"And that's alright. You're not an idiot." Tommy removed a hand to hold up the papers. "You've not been taught this yet, yeah?

Clara sniffled, shaking her head. "Ms. Masters said we didn't need it. Made the girls do needlepoint instead."

Tommy blinked a few times, taking a deep breath. That fucking school, he thought.

"I assumed about your reasons for not doing it before," he said. "I shouldn't have, but I don't want you upsetting yourself over not knowing something you shouldn't be expected to know in the first place."

He knew it was more than that, knew that she was upset with the predicament, upset with him still for taking her out of school, missing Ada still. It wasn't just about a difficult problem set. And he figured she was only this upset because what she really needed, more than those other things being settled, was to be put to bed.

Clara wiped her face, taking a settling breath, and Tommy dropped his hands, watching her as he sat back in his chair. She stepped away, sitting beside him as she continued to wipe at her face.

"If you didn't understand the questions, you could've told Grace. She wants to help you. That's what I'm paying her for." Tommy took a cigarette from its case, making eye contact before reaching for the matches. "Or you could've told me. I came home thinking you were just being rebellious before, reading your book instead of doing your work to make some sort of statement, so I shouted and sent you up."

Clara looked back at him, pulling her legs up and wrapping her arms around her knees while he lit the cigarette, pulling a drag and releasing it away from her. Tommy gestured towards her with the cigarette.

"But I should know my Clara wouldn't do that, eh?"

Clara made an indiscriminate jerk of her head that committed to neither a 'yes' or a 'no' with any clarity.

"No, of course not." Tommy flicked ash from the end of the cigarette. "That'd be silly," he continued, "especially when she'd already used up all of her chances."

Tommy took another drag while watching her. "But then I suppose that is the type of silly thing a smart girl might do without thinking hard enough first."

Clara was quiet, her eyes finding the dying fire across the room, flashing to her brother for a brief moment as a rumble sounded from her stomach and her hands moved to subdue it.

"Your aunt set these aside." Tommy set the plate down in front of her, two undisturbed halves of a sandwich Polly knew her nephew had no intention of touching even when she set them down on the sideboard.

"Eat up and we'll get you to bed."

Clara broke off a small piece of the sandwich as Tommy stubbed out his cigarette, looking to the books again, finally feeling the lateness of the night.

"Tommy?"

He glanced at Clara, all puffy-eyed and blotched cheeks as she picked at the bread.

"You might have been a little right before," she said, focused on her sandwich.

"About all the fussing? I—"

She shook her head. "No, before-before."

Tommy nodded, settling back in the chair. "So, you are a smart girl who had a silly moment and forgot to think, then?"

She shrugged. "Maybe a little."

Tommy took a deep breath. "Well, there are worse things than having a silly moment. Could be a silly girl who never learns how to think," Tommy offered. "There are enough people going around not thinking, so next time, you just remember to think for me, eh?"

Clara nodded, finally looking at him instead of the sandwich. Tommy nodded in turn before glancing back to the books.

"Will you show me?" she asked.

Tommy smirked, eyes still scanning the book. "Show you how to think?"

"No," she giggled, her foot pushing into his knee. "How to answer the questions."

"Ah." Tommy looked at her. "You ask Grace to show you tomorrow. It's late tonight."

"But you're still working on the books."

Tommy rubbed his eyes. If he took his sister up to bed, he doubted he'd come back down the stairs. The pipe and kit were in his bedside table, just steps from where he'd be after tucking her in, far more enticing than ledger lines and John's penmanship.

"Can you show me that? What you're doing with the books? And then I'll go to sleep."

"I should take you up now."

"But I'm not finished eating."

Tommy glanced at the sandwich, a few meager pieces of bread pinched off the only evidence she'd even touched it. Then he looked at the ledger. It was just a benign page, nothing illegal, just the recordings of the previous week's races, nothing fixed, no tracking of protection or contraband profits. He moved the book towards his sister, pulling her chair a bit closer.

"Alright, but just one page," he said, "and you keep your crumbs to yourself or Polly'll kill us both."