✔️ | 𝐛𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐦 𝐛𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞; peaky blinders

･ ｡ﾟ°• ♔ •°───𝒙𝒊𝒊. 𝒍𝒊𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒔

Before work on Wednesday, Trixie had pulled on a hat and a veil, suddenly grieving widow instead of hopeful bride. On her way to Saint Catherine's, she caught a passing glance at herself in a store window and almost started. The woman in the reflection looked unreal, like a painting, or one of the ghosts in the gothic tales she was so fond of. That wasn't Trixie—the mourning didn't look good on her, no matter how much practice she had with it. It took a long moment before she found the strength to pull away and keep walking, quietly slipping between men on their way to work.

In the Church, Campbell was waiting, as promised, in the priest's confessional. Trixie settled opposite him, the screen dividing the two not enough to stifle his open-mouthed breathing.

"Good morning, Inspector," she greeted, chipper despite the headache blooming in the back of her skull. "Nice day out, isn't it?"

"Nice day if you enjoy inhaling ash and grime."

Trixie didn't know what to say about that, as the memory of Campbell smoking a pipe was the first thing that came to mind, and sharing that probably wouldn't get her anywhere. "I enjoyed your letter," she said. If he wasn't interested in small talk, he might as well explain the purpose of their meeting.

"Sometimes, the most important things must be left unsaid."

"I'm not sure I follow."

Campbell heaved a sigh, as if disappointed. "I arranged this meeting because something concerning has recently come to my attention. You see, Miss Price, I have the feeling you've been lying to me."

Trixie blinked at him dumbly. "And why ever would you think that?"

Campbell—to her surprise—had the audacity to laugh, fearsome and wheezing. "Oh, Miss Price. Does your involvement with the Shelbys ever extend beyond the personal?"

She took a moment to measure out her next move. This certainly was not ideal, or expected, but that could sum up most of the last five years of Trixie's life. By now, she knew how to handle being on the spot—and it wasn't like Campbell had made it that difficult. A bit dumb, he'd commented. She'd just need to prove him right. "What do you mean, beyond personal?" she asked him.

"Financial, maybe," Campbell replied. "Perhaps professional."

"Well—" she started. "He gives me an allowance every week." Not wrong, technically, as long as one considered salary and allowance to be interchangeable. "I like to shop. It keeps me busy."

"What do you like to buy?"

"Hats," Trixie said, her voice flat. "I like hats. They add character to an outfit." Also not wrong. Perhaps Campbell would also have some appreciation for fashion, given his penchant for the round-topped bowler hats, but probably not.

"So there's nothing more to your affiliation with the Shelbys than your...your love for that man?" Campbell asked.

Love—always love. It was all anybody wanted to talk to her about these days: Ada's wedding, her supposed engagement, even from Tommy, all she seemed to get was Good morning, darling and Where's your ring, dearest? Trixie thumbed the ring, a habit that had developed since he'd admitted his reason for giving it to her. She'd never had this particular tic when it came to Luca's band, but something was always dragging her mind back to Tommy, and then back to that night, and then back to the things he'd said.

"I loved him, once," Trixie said simply. After rolling the words around in her mouth so many times, they came out without putting up such a fight. "That's all. What else would there be?"