Chapter Text
There was a knock on the door of Thomas Shelby's office at home and finishing the word he had been writing, he called out for whoever it was to enter. Silently, the door swung open, light footsteps that seemed to deliberately make as little sound as possible moved closer to his desk and the leader of the Peaky Blinders lifted his head, forcing a small smile onto his face.
"I apologize for disturbing you Mr Shelby, but I have a request of you if you please," the middle-aged woman who had been working for him for years announced demurely, clearly not comfortable with her request and Thomas leaned back in his chair, raising one brow in interest.
"By all means, go right ahead Frances. This seems to be of a personal matter hm?" He cleared his throat, reaching for his cigarettes and his housekeeper shifted, folding her hands in front of her.
"Yes. You see, my niece gave me a call today. She lives up in Leeds and there was a fire in her building, the whole thing burned to the ground and..." Thomas didn't let her finish her hasty explanation, holding up one hand which made Frances stop instantly.
"Now she needs a place to stay. I assume that niece of yours has nowhere else to go?" The woman stood before his desk deflated a little, nodding. It was almost amusing to him how making this request made her squirm like this.
"Yes. It would only be temporary of course and she could help in the kitchens as repayment. She has no one else Mr Shelby, and would end up on the streets otherwise," Frances hurried to add and he huffed out a chuckle, not needing much convincing on the matter.
"How long have you been working for me Frances? Five years is it?" the woman nodded and he nodded back thoughtfully, "in those five years, you have more than proven your loyalty to me and I reward those who are loyal. You can tell your niece, she is welcome to stay for as long as she needs. Let me know when she will arrive and I will send someone to pick her up and bring her here. Now if that was all, I have work to do."
He returned his attention back to the papers in front of him as he dismissively waved his hand, sprinkling ash over his desk, but when there was no reply or retreating footsteps, he glanced up again, raising his brow in silent question. Frances was visibly fighting with herself and Thomas got a little impatient, about to order her to spit it out, when she did so on her own.
"I feel it is my obligation to mention that my niece, Evangeline, is a very pretty thing. Mrs Shelby might not approve of her being here," the housekeeper admitted, looking even more uncomfortable at having to say this and Thomas resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Lizzie approved of little he did these days, this would not make much of a difference in the grand scheme of things. Might give her something other to be upset about than his emotional distance.
"You can let that be my worry Frances. I'll handle Mrs Shelby if it comes to that," he responded dismissively and Frances appeared unconvinced, but since she had gotten what she wanted, she didn't argue the point, inclining her head in thanks.
"Thank you Mr Shelby. Her train arrives at noon tomorrow. I'll leave you to it then." With that, she turned on her heel and walked out, quietly closing the door behind her and Thomas huffed out another chuckle, bemusedly shaking his head. Of course she had already known he would say yes and he felt a bit curious about this niece he had never heard of before.
I had taken an earlier train, for no real reason other than my own restlessness. Now I was wandering through the unfamiliar streets of Birmingham in the early morning hours, observing people rushing to work, the air thick and hard to breathe on account of the factories that burned through copious amounts of coal to power their furnaces that spit out heavy smoke through their large chimneys. The people living here must have all kinds of lung problems I mused to myself, hearing more than one cough or clear their throats repeatedly.
I wandered around for a few hours, to get a feel of the land, also meeting some interesting people along the way, before I returned to the train station since my aunt had told me someone would come and pick me up. That someone turned out to be a young man named Finn Shelby, youngest brother of my aunts employer and clearly a little over excited. He was talking non stop the entire way to Warwick, telling me all about how his family basically owned Birmingham and that he could show me around if I wanted to, though I didn't bother telling him that I had already done so on my own. I think he was flirting with me, but he was a little young for my tastes, in his early twenties if I had to guess and although I wasn't that much older, I preferred my men with a bit more age to their name.
It was a relief when we finally reached the impressive old mansion aunt Frances was working in and the woman in question was already waiting for me in the driveway. Getting out of the car, I smiled brightly as I walked over to her, genuinely happy to see her again.
"Hello Aunt Frances," I greeted her warmly, going in for a hug when she opened her arms with an equally as warm smile. It felt good to be held and I melted into the embrace, closing my eyes as I inhaled her familiar scent.
"You came earlier, didn't you? I can smell the ash and smoke on you," my aunt stated knowingly when she pulled away again and I nonchalantly shrugged my shoulders, grinning a bit sheepishly.
"You know how I get when I have nothing to do. Speaking of which, what will be my duties here?" I was more than eager to occupy myself with whatever she had thought of, but before she could answer, we were interrupted by my driver.
"I'm gonna head back now. If you want me to show you around some time, let me know alright?" Finn looked adorably hopeful as he said this but I didn't want to lead him on in any way, smiling softly to lessen the blow of my rejection.
"You're very sweet, but honestly a little young for me. I would be willing to spend time with you as a friend, but nothing more." Finn's face fell for a split second before he reigned himself in and I felt a bit bad for him but in the end it would be easier for both of us to get this out of the way early. From experience I knew things could turn ugly if I waited too long.
"Friends it is then. Have a nice day ladies," he said his goodbyes, tipping his hat at us before he strode off and got back into the car. Aunt Frances let out a sigh as she linked her arm with mine and began leading me towards the house, shooting me a bemused glance.
"Already breaking hearts as usual. It is almost a relief to see that nothing has changed," she joked and I huffed out a laugh because she wasn't wrong. This tended to happen an awful lot and I knew it was because of the way I looked, but there was nothing I could do against that safe for mutilating my face or start wearing a sack over it.
My aunt put me on kitchen duty, knowing how much I enjoyed cooking and one of the other girls working here even lend me a uniform so I would blend in better. It didn't fit all that good but that was to be expected and I didn't mind all that much. According to the gossip, the head of the house and his wife were having a fight of some sort and thus she and her daughter were currently staying at a hotel, which meant only Mr Shelby and his son currently resided in Arrow house. I was a little disheartened at that because it meant less to do, seeing as there were only two people around and I was soon done in the kitchens, so my aunt send me outside, telling me they had horses here. She explained the way to the stables and off I went, eager to get there. I loved all animals, had already fawned over Cyril the large bulldog that belonged to Mr Shelby and I was eager to meet the horses as well.
Once inside the stables, I noticed a boy of about seven or eight, sitting on a hay bale with a halfter in hand, looking incredibly sad. He looked up when he heard me approach and I smiled in greeting, stopping a few steps away from him.
"Hello there. You must be Charlie right? Why so glum young lord?" The boy wrinkled his nose at the title before his face fell again and he stared down at the leather in his hands.
"My horse is dead. Father killed it," he admitted and I hummed understandingly in the back of my throat.
"I see. And you're angry with him because you think it wasn't his decision to make." There was clear surprise on his face when he lifted his head again and I bridges the space between us, sitting down next to him, my hands folded in my lap.
"I don't know your father, but I would assume he killed your horse because it was sick?" I waited for him to haltingly confirm this, nodding thoughtfully.
"Are you truly angry because he killed it or are you angry because your father isn't around all that much?" Again he looked surprised and I gave him a knowing smile, stroking over his head.
"It's okay to be angry with him because of that. But you should remember that he loves you very much, otherwise he wouldn't have cared enough to free your horse," I explained to the boy and he frowned up at me, seemingly confused.
"He freed him?" he voiced that confusion and I nodded gravely.
"But of course. See, when a horse gets so sick that it can no longer run around, their soul begins to hurt. They need to gallop freely because their souls need the space and if they can't do that anymore, it is very cruel to let them live like this. By killing him, your father set the soul of your horse free again, removing the restrictions of his physical body. It was not only a mercy to do so but an obligation, not only to the horse, but to you as well. Do you understand what I'm telling you?" The little boy remained quiet, his features thoughtful as he pondered my words and I waited for him to sort through his thoughts, my eyes wandering around the stable. It was well kept, speaking of the high regard there was for the animals within and I approved of that, glad to see someone was treating them with respect.
"I think I understand. Do you think he is happier now? My horse I mean?" Tears were shimmering in his eyes and I took his small hand in mine, giving it a gentle squeeze as I smiled reassuringly.
"I not only think that, I know it for a fact. His soul is running free now and that definitely makes him very happy," I assured the child and he smiled back at me, the shadows in his eyes lifting. We talked a little more about the horses that were left and how he was learning the violin but wasn't yet very good at it to which I told him that practice was the key, laughing when he grimaced at that. He was a cute boy, well mannered and spoken for someone his age and by the time he went back inside, there was no more gloominess left in him.
I stayed outside a little while longer, wandering the grounds and enjoying the fresh air before I returned to the house as well, spending the rest of the day in the kitchens, baking loads of scones, biscuits and cookies since I needed something to do. The other girls had already left for the night, but I was still going, covered in flour and powdered sugar as I put away the last of my creations so I could clean the mess I had made.
"That's an awful lot of baked goods," a deep, raspy voice said from somewhere behind me and I jumped a mile in the air, startled out of my thoughts, a small yelp escaping me. Turning around with a hand pressed against my rapidly beating heart, my eyes widened when they fell on what I could only assume was Mr Shelby, my brain stopping completely for a moment. He was handsome, very very handsome, sharp features and incredibly blue eyes that were almost as wide as mine no doubt were though he obviously tried to hide his surprise.
"Evangeline Billings. I'm Frances' niece," I blurted out, caught entirely off guard by his attractiveness and the things I saw and I wished my aunt had given me a warning in that regard, though I doubted it really would've helped.
"I figured as much. Thomas Shelby." the introduction was accompanied by a light smirk that made me blink dazedly and I shook my head to clear the cobwebs in my brain, smiling apologetically.
"I'm sorry, I was just a bit surprised. Usually I'm not that awkward. Well, mostly. And you don't have to thank me for speaking to Charlie, it was my pleasure. He is a good boy, a little lonely maybe but I can see he got that from his father. And I should maybe stop talking now." Audibly snapping my mouth shut, I felt my face heat at having gone off on a tangent like that, revealing much more of what I saw than could be wise and Mr Shelby certainly looked a little perplexed. Me and my big mouth that never knew when to shut the hell up.
"Why would you think I'm lonely?" He didn't sound mad, simply curious but I hesitated regardless. I didn't know him, had no idea how he might react if I told him what I saw because in my experience, people tended to not like it when I did so. Then again he had asked so I decided just to go for it. The worst that could happen was him kicking me out and as unfortunate as that might be, I would survive it.
"I can tell just from looking at you, that you're very close to the edge of ending your own life because the voices in your head keep screaming at you, not letting you sleep. You need to be in constant motion otherwise you lose it completely but you refuse to share your burden with anyone because you believe it is yours alone to bear. You're punishing yourself by staying alone, though you might think it is to protect yourself from more heartbreak and others from you. The drugs you take don't help, making you paranoid instead of helping you to function properly. There is a lot of pain inside you but you won't let it out which is why you dance so close to the edge, hanging on only by the tips of your fingers. I can see all that because looking at you is like looking into a mirror that reflects myself back at me."
Complete and utter silence followed my lengthy monologue and I held my breath, my heart beating rapidly in my chest. I was more than a little afraid now because he was looking at me with such a blank expression on his handsome face that I had no idea what he might be thinking. Too late I remembered that despite the expensive suit and grand home, he was a gangster and could easily shoot me where I stood if he felt like it. A prospect I might have welcomed a few years ago but unlike him, I had managed to step away from the proverbial edge and had found my will to live, somewhat at least. It would be poetically ironic if I were to lose my life like this now, comically really.
Without another word, he turned on his heel and left, his footsteps fading quickly as the door swung shut behind him and I deflated, releasing the breath I had been holding in a big whoosh of air. That had been intense and I still had no idea what he was going to do about my observations but at least he hadn't shot me on the spot, so I saw this as a win.