Astor // Arthur Shelby x Reader - Peaky Blinders

Chapter 22

"Firstly, we must sell six of the horses."

I stare at the lawyer as though he has lost his mind.

We are sat around a large oak table, Luca and I and both our families. They are all gathered and crowded around the one end. The lawyer included. I sit alone at the other end.

Everything is still grey.

"Absolutely not," I say.

The lawyer sighs. "Mrs Changretta—"

"Astor," I correct him forcefully. "I chose to keep my name."

Luca gives me a warning glance, a tip of his head. We have been married only two weeks, and already I know what this look means — careful. You are embarrassing me in front of my mother.

The last time I pushed him further after he gave me this look, he smacked me for it once everyone else had gone.

He has many looks. I have learned this about my bastard of a husband. If he tilts his head to the left and shrugs, it means he doesn't care. But if he tilts his head to the right and shrugs, it's a warning. Choose well, or I will hurt you. He chews a toothpick when he wants to feel a sense of control. When he's disciplined. But when his nostrils flare and his eyebrows raise, he has no care for discipline any longer.

I swallow, and pray I won't earn any more bruises. Not that it matters. He's careful to keep them concealed now.

"Darling, the horses cost simply too much," says my mother, with her dusted hair piled on her head. "I mean really, eight of them? We simply have no need."

"Your mother's right," Luca says. His voice isn't loud — he doesn't need to be. "If we want to save the estate, horses and staff are the first to go."

And, though I have been the one proclaiming the staff are needless for years and years, I freeze at this news too. "The staff?"

Mother gives an irritatingly false laugh. "Yes, dear. Really, there's no need for staff at all when it'll just be the two of you living there."

I clench my hands into fists beneath the table. "So I've been telling you for years, mother. And yet you only seem to care now you have moved out."

That wipes the smile from her face. But Luca's parents shift uncomfortably. Luca pulls a toothpick free and brings it to his mouth.

"I'm willing to compromise here with my wife," he says. "The cook and the governess can stay. We'll soon have children, after all." Go to hell. "They can share the housekeeping between them."

"A splendid idea," Mrs Changretta smiles warmly.

I take a breath. "And what about the farm?"

The lawyer rifles through his paperwork. "You cannot afford provisions for the staff. Not until you are generating a profit."

"But I fund it entirely from my trust fund," I argue. "What little is left of it, anyway."

"You parents added my name to the trust," Luca says. "We must both agree on any withdrawals. It's now become part of the estate."

Of course they did. I smile bitterly and stand to my feet. "Anything else? Or can I go, as I do not get a say regardless?"

Luca's nostrils flare. I blink, before addressing the room again.

"What I meant to say was, I trust my husband to make the rest of the decisions in my stead. I shall take my leave."

"I'm heading to New York this evening," Luca says to me. "I'll have a couple of my men come check on you while I'm gone. They can even stay in the House, if you wish. I'd hate for you to feel unsafe there, all alone. Where anything could happen."

The others in the room may miss the threat behind his words, but I do not.

"No need, my darling husband." I force a smile. "Have a safe trip."

"Make sure you get those horses gone in a day or two," he tells me. "Free up some liquidity."

"How on earth am I supposed to sell six horses so quickly?" I ask.

He shrugs. "An auction house?"

May. She will know if one is being held.

"Alright," I say. "Leave it to me."

***

I frown at the muddy car tracks plastered across the driveway as I arrive home. As though somebody's tried to find the house, veered through the grounds, and stumbled upon it, before shortly turning and leaving again.

I enter the kitchen, where Lucille and Pauline are cleaning. The whole thing's bloody ridiculous, by this point. I've scarcely been able to eat since agreeing to marry Luca, and nobody else lives here anymore to feed. My mother and father have moved to Kensington, London. Bought a place there next to their favourite duke with the money Luca paid when we married.

"Did somebody come by?" I ask them as I sit on the counter. My legs no longer swing merrily, but stay stiff as I tuck my knees to my chest.

"I've been restocking the storeroom all day," Lucille tells me. "Wouldn't have a clue."

Pauline shakes her head but won't meet my eye. That's not unusual for her, anymore — especially not at mention of the storeroom.

"I saw muddy tracks outside," I say.

"Might have been the postman," says Lucille.

She freezes. Both her and Pauline are still, realising what she has said.

My stomach clenches. The familiar ache spreads through my chest. It hurts to hold my eyes open. It hurts to even exist.

I suddenly find myself not wanting to be in the room with them anymore. Not wanting to be in a room with anyone.

"I need to make a telephone call to May," I say quietly, leaving the room with Rudy and Mopsie at my feet.