Y O U R C R U C I B L E
"May you be in heaven a full half hour before the devil knows you're dead."
Lottie Thorne, sister of the notorious Freddie Thorne, is counted as part of the Shelby family. And her loyalty is...
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"What did he say?"
Exhaustion was the only thing Lottie felt as she climbed out the car and stepped into the white house of her prison cell. It wasn't late, the sun was only beginning to set, but they had left early for some other business Lottie didn't know about. James gripped onto her forearm tightly, his fingers pressing harshly into her skin and she was sure that she would not doubt get a bruise from where his fingers bit into her flesh throughout the night. Lottie knew she had to be calm. She had to be, her children's lives depended on it. If she upset James, Freddie and her unborn child would pay for it. Not for the first time, she questioned how her life had come to this. How had she, Lottie Thorne, the infamous girl from Birmingham, one of the Peaky Blinders, turn into this cowering woman? She reminded herself there was strength in silence and patience, but she was not a patient woman. Sure, she could hurt James, kill him. He wouldn't be her first, but then what? She knew there were men guarding the house, she was watched, and so was Freddie. She knew if anything happened to James, the same would happen to her children.
Lottie shivered, but tried to mask it as she stepped inside. Jemima appeared instantly at her side, helping her with her furred coat. and the two smiled warmly but discreetly at one another. A second, young blushing maid helped James out of his, but he paid her no mind, which only caused the girl to shoot a seething glare in Lottie's direction.
Jemima rested a hand in Lottie's arm. "Would you like some tea, Miss?" She asked.
Lottie nodded before murmuring quietly so only they'd hear, "And slip a little whiskey in it, too."
The maid smiled and nodded before hurrying away. Lottie walked through to the sitting room and sat down onto the armchair by the fireplace, forcing a sweet smile in James' direction as he moved towards his study. Jemima returned with a tea cup and Lottie drank from it deeply after thanking the girl. He knew now - he knew that she was pregnant with Michael's child again. It was too late to deny it. Her sole reason for existence now was to protect her children, both born and unborn. Cradling her swelling belly, Lottie knew what she had to do. Taking a steadying breath, she pushed open the door to the study in which James sat staring into the fire from his armchair.
He heard her enter, but he didn't look over. His hand rested on his chin, thinking, considering, calculating. Swallowing hard, Lottie stepped towards him, around his desk, and knelt by his feet. She hated herself for what she was doing, but it was necessary. She was Lotitia. She took his hand which was resting on the arm of the chair and held it with both of her own. "James," she began in the soft, weak voice she knew he loved to hear. "James," she repeated. "I can only imagine how much you hate me... I wish the truth isn't what it is, but..." She rested a hand on her belly. "But this child... it won't be Michael's - he was only a boy that I used to amuse myself with. He meant nothing to me. No one ever did. Only you. This child wouldn't be his, but yours. It would be you and I who would raise it. This baby..." Lottie looked up hopefully at James who was now looking down at her with careful eyes. "It will be ours."
