Astor // Arthur Shelby x Reader - Peaky Blinders

Letter #7

October 1915

Dearest Lover of Biscuits,

Please tell John I received his correspondence and respectfully deny his request, but I have included a photograph of a pheasant breast for his pleasure. It cost a fair penny for such an innocuous photo at our last dinner and raised a few eyebrows, so it's really just as scandalous as what he originally intended.

I am so sorry to hear what you are going through. Please remember that every soldier is a man just like yourself, fighting for his country — the Turkish men even more so, defending their homeland during an invasion. War is wicked and cruel to all of us, and especially to those of you in the frontline. I imagine that doesn't make your job any easier, but you must lift your spirits somehow.

I wish there was something I could do to help you more. I have sent more supplies, and even whiskey and cigars — to hell with their regulations, I'll pay twenty pounds in bribery if I have to. Our Lady and Saviour indeed — tell the chaps I expect a rolled out carpet and to be hand fed grapes if ever we should meet, though I'll settle for a stiff drink and a handshake.

In the interest of continuing to be a ray of sunshine, I shan't dignify your brother Tommy with a response, but will state that I'll eat my hat if he knows more than May, particularly considering he's never even seen Arion in person. Perhaps the photograph I sent was taken at a strange angle.

Arthur Shelby, is your letter a confession that you are in fact both crook and criminal yourself? You bad man, I knew there had to be a catch somewhere. And a boxer to boot? Now I am even further intrigued. You must tell me more. I accept your invitation to attend both a race and a boxing match, on the condition you promise not to let me get trampled by the other rowdy attendants.

Your talents really are wasted on illegal betting — you proclaim to know nothing of farming, and yet in just one sentence have demonstrated you know far more than I. I haven't the slightest idea what sort of farm I want, but I do not have the stomach for animals in pain and so that rules out anything involving slaughter. What does that leave me, crops or orchards? I spoke with one of my potential advisors after receiving your letter and he told me farming involving livestock is the most profitable, but I can't help but feel even dairy farming would end up involving dealing with illness and injury to the poor cows. I raised the idea of a strawberry farm, but was quickly told the season would be too short to make any profit for most of the year. Maybe I've simply lost my mind and the whole thing would be a disaster and ought to be avoided.

Brave soldier, are you making fun of me? I could egg a house if I so pleased, I am sure of it. I may struggle to knock down a fence with my bare hands but could find a sledgehammer easily enough in one of the caretaker's barns, and I am not above arson if such measures are warranted. As for the intentional discharging of a firearm, I have shot many a gun in my lifetime, and am in fact personally in possession of several hunting rifles, including a Lee-Enfield and a Gewehr 98. I do not wish to harp on about animals, so instead I shall tell you my reason for not partaking in hunting is that my dogs rarely leave my ankles and they cause quite a racket in the woods.

Between that and the constant business of the place, it may not be as quiet as you envision — though I daresay still more peaceful than a battlefield. I am not royalty, I can assure you, but that is not for my parents' lack of trying. My mother, before she married, was a Charteris. Her family have served the royals for generations, and my uncles on her side are intelligence chiefs and the like in the British Expeditionary Force. My father's the youngest of many sons who relinquished the family title and moved their wealth overseas, and so he has been left with what is essentially a poorly maintained pile of shit (forgive me my language), and barely two pennies to rub together. Now they are too old to have any more children and finally bear the male they so covet, and both my sisters have followed their uncles to New York with new husbands, so the estate is my inheritance and I shall retain it even if I marry. Which my parents are urging me to do most urgently, despite the fact I have no interest, purely so they can line their own pockets and continue this sham of a pretence that they are of 'fine breeding'.