Chapter Content Warning: canon-typical content.

Protests & Inquiries

1919

Clara sat on the edge of her brother's bed, one eye on him as he shaved in the mirror and the other on her math assignment. She'd become more intentional in watching those around her in recent weeks, the questions she posed a bit more by design than mere curiosity, her observation of their behaviors more critical, though most of them hadn't noticed her attention.

"Tommy?"

He turned to her, half of his face still covered in the cloud of shaving cream he'd had yet to deal with.

"Finished?" he asked.

He had forbidden his sister from asking about anything aside from the math problems until she finished her work, but not more than a quarter of an hour had passed and he'd already entertained half a dozen of her questions since that time, all of them having nothing to do with the numbers.

Clara glanced down at the paper. She was very nearly finished, but she'd gotten caught up somewhere along the way either from a bit of true difficulty or from a bit of distraction. Clara stood up from Tommy's bed and climbed onto the chair beside his dresser, careful as she moved the steaming bowl of water out of her way to set the papers down.

"Can you help me?"

"Can I finish this first?" Tommy asked. His usual morning routine taking far longer than normal, what with her questions and near-constant chatter.

Clara nodded, settled her arm on top of the papers, and rested her head down against it as she watched her brother return his gaze to the mirror.

"Are boys supposed to shave every single day?" she asked.

Tommy pulled the blade up from under his chin and over his right cheek, focusing his eyes on his reflection.

"Supposed to?" he asked before skimming over another untouched patch of skin.

"Well, you do," Clara said, "but sometimes John and Arthur don't. John says it's a bloody pain, so that's why he doesn't do it on Sundays, and Arthur forgets a lot or if he's slept over somewhere, he doesn't. They both say girls like clean-shaven men though."

Tommy took a final sweep with the razor, reaching beyond Clara's head for a towel to wipe the remaining bits of shaving cream from his face.

"Are little girls supposed to have their hair done every day?" Tommy tugged at one of her braids. "Because you're quite insistent that you need something special done each morning."

Clara fingered the braid he'd tugged on. "These aren't even special ones, just regular."

"Special enough," Tommy answered. He'd given her one on each side rather than a single plait down the back as he usually did. "We could always leave them out, let you look like a wild little devil, eh?"

Clara shook her head. She sometimes liked leaving her long hair loose but she didn't like the strands getting caught up in things or the inescapable tangles and painful hair brushing that followed in the evenings. She had no desire to be trapped between her aunt's legs on the floor while Polly combed through a day's worth of tangles. The braids, even when Polly pulled them so tight it made her head a bit sore, were much preferable. And Clara wasn't certain if the latest of her aunt's threats were sincere, the one about chopping Clara's locks off to her shoulders if she continued to be such an obstinate devil about having her hair brushed out at the end of the day.

After pulling on his button-down and fixing the cuffs, Tommy came back to his sister's side, settling his collar in the mirror before turning to her. He tried to nudge her off the papers to get a look. "Alright, what's your question?"

"But you still didn't answer about the shaving," she said, holding steady with her arm covering half of the math problems despite his reaching for them.

"I've told you no more questions until that work is done. What do you want to know about shaving for anyhow?"

Tommy didn't question her renewed presence in his room during the mornings. He appreciated the uncompelled nature of her company too much to draw attention to it, but he was curious about the types of questions she'd been asking, both of himself and his brothers, apparently. Questions about shaving, and haircuts, and cologne, and clothing, and shoes. She'd been asking about the lot of it.

"But it's nearly done."

Tommy pulled the papers from her grasp and swept his eyes over the partly finished work. "Well nearly done isn't done, is it?"

"But it is very nearly done," she answered. "And I need to know about the shaving."

"Why do you need to know?" Tommy asked.

"Because I won't be able to focus properly without knowing."

Tommy let out a light snort, shaking his head. He thought of making some sort of comment about knowing other ways to make her focus on her work, but he wouldn't have meant any type of threat even if it passed his lips.

The truth was Tommy wasn't sure of the answer. He hadn't always shaved or put much effort into his appearance, hadn't always engaged in these daily rituals. There had been a time when he was too preoccupied with helping with the horses and he'd only bother with any of it if he had plans with a girl. But since returning from France, he shaved every day. Maybe it was because he hadn't always had the choice during those four years or because he knew now that appearances mattered in the world of legitimate business. Either way, those weren't sentiments Tommy had any interest in passing on to his sister.

Tommy was perfectly happy for Clara to remain the slightest bit undiscerning in regards to the impacts France had on him. And he found it a pleasant surprise that despite Ada's rouge and fancy clothes and four-inch heels, his youngest sister had shown little interest in her appearance aside from the constant requests for special braids and the strop she'd thrown over a year ago about the red coat he refused to purchase for her.

"It's just a habit, I suppose," Tommy settled on.

Clara didn't believe her brother but as Tommy held out his hand to help her down from the chair, she didn't push it.

"Now, what's the trouble with this?" he asked, holding up the paper.

Clara climbed beside him as he sat on the bed, settling on her knees with her arms rested over his shoulder. Tommy studied the papers in his hand, looking through her work, but Clara was looking at her brother's face.

"Are you sure it's not because it looks nice?" she asked, her finger poking the smooth skin of his cheek. "Or maybe because it feels nice?"

Tommy caught Clara's finger and pulled her around to sit on his lap, holding the papers out for her to take. "The only thing I'm sure of is that you're making every attempt at not finishing this work when we're due at the Garrison at nine."

"We?" she asked. "I thought you said I could go on my own."

"You can, but I thought it was time to see how things are coming along, make sure you're not giving Grace too much trouble with all your inquiries and protests and—"

Clara turned towards him. "But you don't need to come. You're busy and—"

"And I can make time to see how your schooling is coming along."

"What if Grace doesn't want you there?"

"For what I pay her, I don't believe she'll have much of an opinion on me being there."

Clara wasn't typically one to sit back and allow her fate with her brother to be decided by someone else's argument, but considering the easy smile on Tommy's face and seeing as it was Grace's third or so time with successfully challenging her brother, Clara kept her mouth shut.

Because of Grace's efforts, Clara was sometimes practicing numbers with actual pages from the accounting ledger. They took occasional walks by the Cut, talking about the junctions and the movement of the water, the movement of goods. The woman had helped Tommy get the school lined up, the school she'd start at the next semester so long as she passed the entrance exam scheduled at the end of the following month. And now that Grace was advocating with Tommy for another field trip, this time to the Birmingham Central Library, Clara mostly kept her eyes on the book she was meant to be reading and the list of questions she was meant to be answering.

"The library?" Tommy said. "She's been well-behaved enough for that?"

Tommy glanced from Grace to his sister and a hot rush of blood colored Clara's cheeks. The question wasn't entirely without merit and Clara stilled, the pencil in her hand motionless as she waited for Grace's answer.

Grace laughed, leaning back into the door frame, crossing her arms casually over her chest before glancing at Clara. "Your sister has been an angel, Thomas."

Clara glanced up to find both adults were watching her and she forced a small smile.

"An angel? That's quite a change in status, eh?" Tommy moved his eyes back to Grace. "Can't remember the last time anyone called my sister an angel."

Clara's gaze followed as her brother and her tutor got caught up in some sort of staring contest, lasting just a few moments until Grace let out a small laugh, shaking her head from side to side just once.

"It's true, Thomas," Grace said. "She's been working hard and anyway, she's far too advanced for the books she has available to her now."

Tommy nodded a few times and rubbed at his chin. After finishing the detective books, Clara had started begging after Tommy's collection again, stating the very same sentiment coming from the barmaid just now. "She's told me you said so, but she certainly wasn't angelic about it."

"I've loaned her some of mine to get us through, but she's on the last one and—"

"I suppose it won't hurt." Tommy turned to his sister. "Especially if you've been as good as Grace says."

Clara swallowed the dryness in her throat and tucked some loose strands of hair behind her ears before picking up the pencil again. She wasn't sure why Grace had said it, why she had claimed Clara had been an angel. Things had improved in a way, a small measure of gratitude coming through in Clara's behavior since they visited the school. She hadn't been so obviously indignant towards the woman, but they still had their moments of friction, moments Clara was perfectly happy to think her brother would never learn about.

Tommy nodded towards the bar and a patron who had strolled in a bit early for opening. "I can stay with her if you'd like to see what Rivers is after."

Grace nodded with a smile, turning away as Tommy looked to his sister and pat the spot beside him on the bench. Clara slid down to him.

"So, what's she got you reading this week?" he said. "And tell me how you managed to go from where you were with her last week to having her wrapped around her little finger, eh?"

Clara shrugged as Tommy pulled the book from her hands. He gestured to the sheet of questions she'd left behind at the end of the table and Clara handed it over.

"Pride and Prejudice," Tommy mused as he scanned through the questions she'd scratched out on the top of the paper. "Right, so, tell me. What's it about?"

He had never read the book himself, but from Grace's questions, Tommy surmised that the story was some sort of romance. She had his sister analyzing the role of women and marriage and love.

Clara settled back onto the bench, folding her arms over her chest as she crossed her ankles and settled her stockinged feet over Tommy's knee. "I'm not too young for it if that's what you're thinking. Grace read it when she was my age."

Tommy nodded as he pinched a foot in his hand. "Where are your shoes?"

Clara pointed under the table. "My boots are too tight."

"Too tight? Since when?"

Clara shrugged. She'd noticed the pain at some point during the last month, attributed it at first to all the extra work at the yard, all the extra walking around Small Heath.

"Aunt Polly said I can't have a new pair. These were supposed to last through the winter."

"Next time you come to me. Can't have my sister running barefoot around Birmingham, too much of a liability," he said as he tickled the arch of her exposed foot.

"Tommy, don't!" Clara shouted as she pulled her feet back from him, folding her legs up on the bench and out of his reach.

He made a production of holding the sheet of questions with both hands. Clara relaxed a bit at that, shifting a measure closer once again as he looked at her. "Right, well, go on. Tell me how this Elizabeth Bennett is different from her family."

"I haven't answered that one yet," Clara said.

"I can see that," he said, "so, let's have it then. What's so different about this Miss Bennett?"

Clara cleared her throat. "Well...Lizzie is her father's favorite, but I think her mother doesn't like her as much."

"Why's that? What makes her the father's favorite?"

"Because she's the smartest, the cleverest of the girls."

"What else?"

"Well, she's very observant," Clara offered. "And very curious." She sat up straighter, letting her feet fall in front of her. "And she's opinionated about things that matter, and she's not silly and frivolous like the others."

"Almost sounded like someone I know but then you said she wasn't a silly girl."

Clara kicked toward her brother, a half-hearted endeavor she engaged in with a smile on her face. Tommy easily caught her foot in his hand before she made contact.

Tommy snorted. "See, just as I've said, eh silly girl?"

"Tom—"

"How are those questions coming?" Grace's eyebrows raised as she watched the two of them from the open doorway, a small smile on her lips.

"Just fine until he stole them and started calling me names and now he won't let go of my foot," Clara answered, more focused on pulling at the fingers wrapped around the arch of her foot.

"Sounds as though we may need to ask your brother to leave us."

"My apologies, Grace," he said, a playful smirk on his lips. He dropped his sister's foot and slid the paper across the table to her. "Of course, you're right. Not the proper time for play, eh Clara?"

Clara sat herself up, leaning over her work.

"My frivolous little sister here brings out the mischief in me."

"Tommy!" Clara shirked away from her brother, grabbing his hand with both of her own as Tommy's fingers dug into her side.

"Mr. Shelby, if you could please allow your sister to focus for just a few more minutes."

Tommy glanced at Grace, stopping his assault on Clara's side. Clara straightened herself and her clothes once again.

"I'm Mr. Shelby now, am I?"

"When it's business we're speaking of, yes," Grace folded her arms across her chest.

"I see," Tommy said, turning away from Grace towards his sister. "A nice, strict teacher I've hired for you, Clara. Won't even allow her employer to get between you and your education."

"There's not a thing that should come between a girl and her education."

Clara looked between the two of them. Their smiles had faded and again there was some message passing between her brother and Grace that she wasn't able to decipher. Whatever was being said, Clara felt certain her brother was losing and she scooted closer to him.

"We were only playing."

"No, Clara, it's fine." Tommy leaned forward to grab the newspaper, tapping his sister on the head as he sat back. "Grace is right. I'm not here to distract you."

Even though they were now sitting outside the library waiting for her brother, in her mind's eye, Clara was still turning in circles as she looked to the high ceilings of the library's main reading room. The long wooden tables were filled with stacks of books and diligent readers. She was surrounded by enormous boxes of catalogs and a spiral staircase leading to another level of cases stacked with books of every color and thickness. Despite her interest in the books, Clara kept going back to the image of the room's intricate ceiling, the pattern of the stonework, the blue sky framed by a skylight, the pieces of dust dancing in the sunlight spilled through the windows into the cavernous room. It had been beyond her expectations and the single negative thought she had was that no one had thought to bring her sooner.

Tommy was late and while Grace was growing a bit restless, Clara hadn't noticed, casually flipping through the book Grace had borrowed for her using her own library card. "So I can get another book next time I come? Any book I want?"

"Many of them can be borrowed," Grace answered. She was a bit surprised by Clara's enthusiasm, somewhat accustomed to a different version of the girl than the one who had been chattering away since first setting foot in the library. "The reference books must stay in the building, but the others can be borrowed."

"And I can get a library card? Like yours?"

"Children receive blue ones, but yes, I'm sure your brothers or aunt could get you one."

Clara ran her thumb along the book's cover, another title written by Jane Austen. "It's a very lovely place," she said, "a library."

"It is. We'll have you to the university next. Have you been?"

Clara shook her head. "But Tommy says he'll send me someday if I keep good marks."

"And now they'd even award you a degree. What would you study? What would you like to be?" Grace asked.

Clara shrugged. She hadn't ever thought much about what she'd like to be when she grew up and she'd certainly never been asked. She assumed she'd just work for the betting shop, like Aunt Polly, or be a mother, like Martha, or she'd be like Ada, doing whatever it was that Ada did.

Before Tommy took her from school, Clara had never even thought of the fact that she might ever need an education to support herself or that if she did have a need to support herself, it could be by doing something she had any type of choice in.

"Aunt Polly is the company treasurer," Clara said.

"And is that what you'd like to be?" Grace asked. "You're good with numbers."

Clara shrugged again. "I like helping. My sister was going to be a nurse. She took a course, but I don't really like… I suppose I'm a bit fussy about blood. Did you choose? To be a barmaid?"

Grace snorted softly, almost caught off by the question because a barmaid was only one of her identities and in truth, she had been brought up to be a wife, a proper wife to a wealthy husband who would have a few children, children to be looked after and educated by a team of governesses. She was never meant to be a barmaid or a private tutor or an agent of the crown, never meant to live in a rented room in the slums of Birmingham teaching gangster's child about numbers and the classics.

Grace decided on offering something that was close enough to the truth. "No, I suppose this life sort of chose me."

Clara nodded. "Well, maybe I could run the business when I'm big enough."

"And why shouldn't you?" Grace answered.

"Are you trying to talk my sister into putting me out of a job?" Tommy asked.

Grace opened her mouth to respond, but Clara didn't give room for her to answer his question, stepping up on the bench and putting the book in Tommy's face as she explained to him all she had seen in the library, her account punctuated by questions he wasn't given the chance to answer until Clara placed her hand on her brother's shoulder, catching her breath only to begin again straight away. "Grace said you or Aunt Polly have to get me a library card. She let me use hers to borrow this, but I can get my own and—"

"New boots and a library card? I see Grace is teaching you to demand what you'd like."

Tommy knew it was a simple coincidence, Grace asking for the extra money a few weeks ago for the dress and his sister asking for the card now, but he enjoyed teasing Grace, enjoyed the blush that came into her cheeks at his words.

"Your sister knows well enough how to voice her desires without my influence."

Tommy would concede the barmaid that, would allow that his sister had been well enough equipped to protest and position herself to get her way well before they made their arrangement.

"Please, Tommy?" Clara tugged on his arm. "We can just go back in now and it only takes a minute and—"

"I came here to take you for new boots," he answered, pulling his arm out of her reach.

"But it'll just take a minute," she answered. "I saw someone else get one while we were inside and—"

"We're on a schedule and we'll need to accompany Grace back towards home. Don't want to keep her too long."

"Oh, that's alright." Grace stood up from the bench. "I can make it back to Small Heath well enough on my own."

Clara studied Grace's face now that they were nearly the same height, with Clara standing on the bench and Grace just beside her. During the brief conversation with Tommy, she'd applied a layer of lipstick and ran a hand through her hair, smoothing out her curls before rearranging her hat.

"I wouldn't want to leave a lady here alone. Birmingham can be a dangerous place," Tommy answered. "We won't be long with the boots and I'm sure you'd be a better help than me."

"As much as I'd love to, I actually have an errand of my own," Grace answered.

Before Grace spoke, Clara had been ready to protest the notion of the woman coming along, but it struck her that being taken to the library today may not have been a coincidence. Especially because Grace had an errand on this side of town. If it was an errand like last time, running an errand actually meant meeting a friend and wasn't truly an errand at all.

"I suppose you could come with us if you wanted," Clara said, "maybe you can run your errand after?"

"Oh, um well, when I say errand, it's really an appointment." Grace glanced at her watch. "And if I don't head off just now, I'll be late."

Clara trailed after her brother by a few paces and he glanced back at her, frowning at her glum demeanor. They'd watched the barmaid walking in the opposite direction before setting off themselves and they'd both been lost in their own heads ever since.

While Clara was busy thinking about the pain in her feet, Tommy was dwelling a bit on the fact that without bringing Grace along with him to Zhang's the meeting with Billy Kimber would be less productive, still necessary, but not nearly as potent if he got to show off the barmaid again.

"Enough pouting. We'll get you the card another day," Tommy said.

Clara furrowed her brow and mumbled something Tommy didn't hear. She was still a few steps behind him when he noticed her flinching with each step and Tommy pulled his sister over to the wall settling her on the ledge as he pulled off a boot, revealing her bloodied stocking.

Tommy huffed as he began loosening the laces of the shoe in his hand. "You could've told me it was this bad. You start the other one, eh?"

She worked to slide the shoe off her other foot, wincing as it came free.

"You're mad?" Clara asked, startled by his tone and the roughness of his yanking at her laces.

"I'm not mad, not at you, at least," he answered. Polly was a different story. There was no reason for Clara to be going around with bloody feet, not when they were doing well, not even if they weren't. There may have been a time when a Shelby child had to suffer through a winter with boots a size too small because they couldn't afford a new pair, but things were different now.

Clara winced again as Tommy fit the loosened shoes back on her feet and he helped her to the ground. Clara slipped her hand into his as they started walking again. She called his name and Tommy glanced down at her.

"Do you think Grace has any friends?"

"She's a friendly girl," he answered.

"But do you think she has any proper friends?"

"I don't know who Grace has in her life," Tommy said, which in a way was true. He knew who she didn't have in her life, her family and friends from Ireland.

"She's never mentioned anyone?" Clara asked.

"No," Tommy answered, "though I can't imagine she'd tell me."

"Well, are you her friend?"

Tommy glanced down at his sister. "Do you think I have friends?"

"Freddie was your friend," she said. "And I'm your friend."

"Yeah, well, you're a special exception now, aren't you?" Tommy said, turning them down Hill Street.

Clara pulled them to a stop, protesting his diverting from the usual route. "Ada always takes me to Colmore Row."

Tommy had never gotten a pair of shoes from the Zhangs, but Tommy knew the daughter who was also thought to be a witch did them and he figured he could accomplish two things at once while avoiding the extravagant little shop Ada had been taking their sister to for years.

"Mr. Zhang, you'll remember my sister."

The man leaned over the counter and looked down at the girl, nodding. "Miss Shelby," he said before turning to Tommy. "We don't make dresses, Mr. Shelby."

"She's actually in need of some new boots." Tommy glanced at his pocket watch before reaching for his bill clip. "Your girl can take her now and I'll join them in a moment."

"Mr. Shelby, please, no trouble today," Mr. Zhang answered though he accepted the bills Tommy placed on the counter.

"Do you think I'd bring my sister if I was expecting trouble, Mr. Zhang?" Tommy placed his hands on Clara's shoulders, moving her forward.

Mr. Zhang breathed deeply for a moment before waving Clara behind the counter, offering her a short stool. "You wait here for Mei. She'll be with you in a minute."

Tommy handed his sister the book he had been carrying. "Don't leave this spot until the girl comes for you, eh?"

Clara nodded, opening the book and training her eyes on the page until Tommy stepped away. She couldn't help but look around the place, settling on her knees to better see her surroundings. She had been to Mr. Zhang's once before, just a quick visit the previous winter and the unfamiliarity of the place, the hustle and bustle which was somehow different from that of the betting shop, was far more enticing than her book. She watched her brother weave his way through the tables, talking with Mr. Zhang as he went, fingers reaching out to touch the suits as he passed them.

Clara didn't recognize the man who approached her brother and she put the book under her knees to give herself a bit more height above the countertop. Even as the scattering women dismissed by Mr. Zhang found their hiding spots with her behind the counter, Clara kept her eyes trained on the men. Tommy's glance in her direction sent a cold sharpness through her and she wobbled on the stool, drawing the other gentleman's eyes to her as well before Mr. Zhang's daughter pulled her from the stool and behind the curtain.

"Thought I told you to stay put?" Tommy said, towing Clara along on the sidewalk outside of Zhang's. He'd not said a word on the subject while they waited, not wanting to welcome any of his sister's questions in mixed company and nearly an hour had passed by the time Tommy finally guided his sister out of Zhang's, the whole endeavor with the shoes taking longer than he'd anticipated. He'd done little but brood and fester the entire time.

"I did stay put. I stayed on the stool."

Tommy dropped her hand to light a cigarette, making a conscious effort to slow his pace and temper his anger, reaching out for Clara's hand again once he no longer needed his own to light the cigarette.

"Tommy, who was that man?" she asked.

Tommy never intended for Billy Kimber to know about any more of his family than he needed to, planned to keep everyone aside from John and Arthur out of it entirely, which was why he'd hoped Zhang's girl would take Clara in the back straight away to get started with the shoes. He puffed on the cigarette, willing the smoke to fill his lungs and do its bit at calming him before he answered.

"His name's Billy Kimber. He runs the races."

"And you're going to see him?" Clara asked. "At Cheltenham?"

"I am," Tommy answered.

"And you're taking Grace?" she asked.

Tommy nodded, thinking that he never should have brought his sister along in the first place. It was careless.

"Can I come?" she asked. "To the races?"

Tommy shook his head.

"Why not? If Grace is coming, I—"

"Grace is doing a job for me and you're too young for the races."

"What kind of job?"

"That's enough of your questions for today," Tommy said, "and no one else hears about this, understood?"

Clara nodded and stayed quiet for a moment, keeping up with Tommy's quick pace despite the pain in her feet, more noticeable now that she'd given them a reprieve.

"Tommy?" Clara tugged on his hand a bit and he glanced down at her.

"What is it?"

"Well, don't you think it'd be smart of us to just go back to the library now? Since it's only a very short walk? They're open until five and if you take me, I won't complain anymore. And I won't ask any other questions, either. I promise."

Tommy stopped walking, flicking his cigarette into the gutter and scuffing it out. "Oh, you promise that, do you?"

Clara nodded.

"Well, I'd be a fool not to take you up on that, wouldn't I?" Tommy said as he lifted Clara in his arms. "No more inquiries and no more protests? It should be a quiet night at number six."

"But wait, I can walk myself."

"I thought I wouldn't hear any more protests out of you?"

Tommy took her silence as agreement and once again stepped off towards the library until he heard Clara utter his name, the second half a bit higher-pitched, almost sounding like a question. He stopped walking, ready to turn them around and head back to Watery Lane if either a complaint or a question tumbled out of her mouth, but all Tommy heard was a tired thank you mumbled as his sister rested against him, her head lowered into the crook of his neck to shelter against the cool wind.

Clara had planned to use the protest and inquiry-free walk to think through the information she'd gathered, but her brother's steady steps and the warmth of his arms made her tired, less worried about making deductions, less able to focus.

She had already decided that her brother was, for a fact, sweet on Grace Burgess. Of this, Clara was absolutely certain because she'd seen each of the signs Arthur had told her about. She'd seen his smiles and observed the special attention to his appearance, and now she had even seen him create a handful of excuses to see more of the woman. Clara even thought perhaps her brother had settled on something closer to love. Grace also smiled easily when Tommy was around, and she fixed her hair and put on lipstick and seemed to pop up in on their days more and more, but Clara wasn't convinced that the woman was in love, at least not with her brother.