Even the slightest offset of unfamiliar stitching in the sheets roused Verity from a foggy and dense sleep, feeling like a prominent cloud hung around her brain yet she felt she had gotten no rest. In those first few discombobulated moments, her hazel eyes adjusted to the room around her – and the reality of the previous night's events flooded in. This room had served as only a ghostly reminder in recent months of what worse, it only existed in the corner of her brain where she allowed it... yet here she was again, with the very real and grounded feeling of knowing exactly where she was.
Adjusting herself upwards towards the head board, a fiery pain shot down her ankle which caused the psychologist to hiss outwardly. With a furrowed brow, she plumped her pillow behind herself and felt considerably trapped once again. She could recall the encounter with Tommy, which felt strangely bizarre in the cool white light of a new day – such light that was hoping to peek through the dense and dramatic long curtains that hung in each room of Arrow House.
However any recollection beyond the point where she had tried to leave seemed mixed in her mind – like a selection of puzzle pieces tossed out onto the ground haphazardly.
Some muffled voices from beyond the door caused her to escape the ruminations of her mind for a second.
"Master Shelby, Miss Grant is not very well. She is resting right now, you must keep your voice down." It was Francis, taking on a rather stern yet hushed tone – clearly thinking Verity might still be resting.
"But she's back! I want to see her!" the young boy was desperately trying to keep his voice down but the excitement was hard to the child to contain. Verity knew the pure joy in Charlie's voice would be the only thing to bring a smile to her face.
"Come along Charlie, I'm sure she'll be up after your lessons are finished." Francis' voice seemed tired, even more laboured than it had beforehand. Verity did wonder what the house had been like after she was gone, she could only imagine Charlie's sadness as he had often described to her in the letters that it had been difficult without her.
The sound of the little boy's footsteps rushing back down the corridor left her with a lonely feeling once more of being bound up in bed all day, which Verity already knew would drive her crazy. Besides, she had to get in contact with Henry and let him know she was alright – and that her appointments for the next few days would probably need cancelling until she could get out of this place.
The first item to do once the psychologist had found the least painful way to leave the bed, was to throw open the curtains in the room – allowing soft morning light to pour in generously. It considerably lightened the anxious feelings that shrouded Verity in doubt, the fear that she wasn't quite sure how the next day or so was going to pan out.
She passed the nearby full length mirror, taking a look at herself in that crisp white night dress she had been changed into. A moment of panic grabbed her, and for a second she worried maybe Tommy might have gotten her changed and put her to bed – however the very neatly folded and pressed clothes at the dressers told her that clearly Francis had been the one; relief with immediate effect.
Getting ready for the day was a slow and rather painful exercise; each step into the items of clothing was done with care – and if not for bashing her ankle a few times, Verity had managed to dress herself considerably well under the circumstances.
Making her way back into the room, brush in hand as she combed through her hair slowly, she eyed her large stilettos with cold stare of pure venom. How they had betrayed her into this very sorry position.
-
Downstairs, the house was eerily quiet – and felt lessened of the usual turbulent energy that hung about in the air whenever Tommy was about. Charlie was in the study, his tutor having arrived (and still completely unbeknownst of their letter cockup) and lessons were underway.
How these times much reminded Verity of when she had first lost her home when her sister found out about her work with the Shelby's. How Verity would stalk the house daily trying to find things to do if Charlie was busy – and would pray for the excitement of the train journey down to the club twice a week.
She hobbled carefully into the sitting room – eyeing the piano that had gotten her so wrapped up in all this in the first place. She cursed herself for ever pressing those few keys and mumbling her stupid little song. Maybe then Tommy would have been less inclined to ruin her life.
"Ah, Miss Grant!" Francis' voice in the doorway behind her caused Verity to jump a little – the psychologist turning on the spot as she directed a sweetened smile to the courteous maid.
"How is your ankle? Mr Shelby had me call the Doctor, he's coming to see you this afternoon."
Verity sighed deeply, of course he did.
"It's tender I must admit, but I can manage." She returned, a placid smile on her face which betrayed her all but frustrated emotions.
"Can I fetch you any breakfast? A Pot of tea at least?" Francis always seemed so genuinely caring, and not just a forced front that all house staff were expected to put on. Verity had always seen Francis be nothing but kind and caring always towards her work and the people in the house... even the volatile likes of Tommy.
"Some jam toast would be welcomed... and a pot of tea wouldn't hurt." Verity replied with a bashful smile, "But on one condition... you must sit down and have a cup with me."
The housemaid seemed conflicted, as if she knew that was very much slacking off from the long list of duties she had to attend to that day. However, Verity's pressing stare, and perhaps the desperate flicker for some company all but swayed the maid in the end.
"I'll be back shortly." She confirmed, disappearing from the room with that ever so efficient swing to her step – whilst Verity at least tried to get comfortable in the house that had caused her so many conflicted emotions in such a short space of time.
-
The steam wove it's way into the air in a stream of wispy white curls, as Francis held her cup and saucer with some rigidity, like she was already anxiously thinking about the fact she technically wasn't doing any work.
"Do you know where Mr Shelby has gone today?" Verity asked inquisitively, hoping to distract Francis from feeling she had to rush off to get work done.
"Down to London I believe, Miss Ebson is due to have her baby soon. I think Mr Shelby wanted to have some discussions with his brother." She explained, one of those sheepish smiles on her face like she feared for talking too much out of turn.
Verity tried to disguise the abundant pain that flashed through her chest upon the mention of Scarlett... another one of her ghosts she had pushed to the very back of her mind, so much so it had become a cluttered cupboard and the woman had almost entirely repressed the sweet and happy memories of the American who had brought her so much joy... and crushed her heart so carelessly.
Verity's lips flickered into an uncertain smile, perhaps too obvious to pass off as anything else.
"Wow... time certainly does fly." She swallowed a mouthful of tea as she began to realise just how much of this life she'd been pushing out in order to keep the random panic attacks at bay. How easy it had been to sink into the new life in Castle Combe – with it's lazy stream ambling on, glossy water reflecting the rich sunlight. The miles of green all around and the blue that extended as far as Henry's eyes. She found she was fighting a pang in her heart thinking about her dear colleague, and reminded herself to contact him.
"Miss Grant, if I may.... Speak." Francis suddenly piped up, and of course Verity was the first to gesture for the maid to continue. She hated this feeling there needed to be some hidden hierarchy between them.
"Charlie is elated you are here. I fear the boy's heart might break should you go again." Francis confided, a bitter truth that was staking itself in Verity's heart. "I heard yourself and Mr Shelby arguing last night, and I know it is very much not my place but... are things between the pair of you irreparable?"
Chuckling in disbelief as she set the cup and saucer back onto the table, Verity stared down into her lap and sighed deeply. Again, there were so many intricate sections to this web that made up her chaotic relationship with the Blinder. It wasn't one simple answer, it was many things – so many wrongs wrapped up in a collective of bad people. Verity found her heart and head were in too much of a good space to ever come back to someone who had wounded her so very badly for their own gain.
"Oh Francis, I wish I could describe to you the half of what he has done to me." Verity was laughing sarcastically, but as she did so her eyes were pooling with tears. "Tommy had my psychology clinic pretty much erased just so he could have me come to work in the Eden Club. He kept this all secret from me, through everything – he let me," she paused to draw breath, staring down at a particular corner of the rug because she could not bear to face the poor housemaid who looked on in pained horror.
"....He let me fall in love with him knowing he had done the absolute worst thing he could ever do. I only found out the truth by chance on that day Mr Solomons came to visit."
Francis looked away, and through her own glassy eyes Verity could make out tears lingering in the housemaid's eyes.
"I had no idea, it pains me to think he ever treated you like that." Francis said after a minute or two, reaching across and clutching Verity's hand. "You were the best thing to happen to him after Miss Grace passed."
Verity smiled shortly at the compliment, as Francis squeezed her hand supportively. It seemed the kind older woman had relaxed somewhat knowing where she stood with Verity, and she freely spoke what was on her mind.
"For what it is worth, Miss Grant. I saw Tommy after you left. It destroyed him. He knows exactly how much he had ruined his life by losing you."
Verity looked up slowly, her eyes reddened slightly from the emotional recount of her experience. She could see the earnest and the honest practically pouring from Francis' eyes.
"Let's face it, we both know the kind of person he can be. Mean, manipulative and cold. But I saw him night after night, more distant than ever after you left."
Verity knew Francis was probably thinking of Charlie, but right now in Verity's mind there was no way she could ever be civil with Tommy... she thought of trying to love him again made her skin crawl.
"He has a funny way of showing he cares." Verity scoffed, "He sent his brother and another lad to the house I'm staying at. They trashed the kitchen and knocked my poor landlady over." Verity remarked bitterly.
"But would you have come back if he had written to you nicely? Begged for your forgiveness?"
The question put Verity's mind into halt – something she had not really previously considered. Upon thinking about it, she shook her head quickly.
"No, I wouldn't. I was done with him."
Sheepishly, Francis cracked another smile and gave the psychologist a knowing look.
"Then he knows you better than you think, Miss." She whispered, patting Verity's hand and collecting her empty tea cup to whisk it back to the kitchen.
With Francis gone, Verity poured herself another tea – frowning as she glanced blankly into the cup, watching the rich brown waters turn a biscuity colour as the milk descended slowly into the drink. She was more confused than ever, resentful and hurting. She didn't want Tommy Shelby to 'know' her. She wanted to forget him – why was he holding on so goddamn tight?
Verity knew that he was very aware of the fact he could have any other woman he wanted, they'd probably all be wrapped around his finger like dazed starlets yet this tyrant kept persisting.
Verity sat back and considered her worth... her value... not only to herself, but especially not to Tommy.
It seemed she had gotten what she had initially set out to achieve, back in the days before the Eden club, before the complications and the pain. Back when she was just the psychologist and he was the patient. She had broken past the walls and to the human being inside.
-
Verity wasn't sure how it was possible for Tommy's office to feel even more formidable considering the morose and stern aura of the man in question was currently nowhere in the immediate vicinity.
She felt herself take a rigid seat in his chair, putting a call through on the phone to Henry back in the clinic. As she was put through, the psychologist resisted the urge to pry through the various letters and papers on his desk – however she felt was very much in her place to rummage through considering Tommy had taken no quarrels with burying his nose into her business.
"Dr Gunthorne speaking, how may I help?"
Verity couldn't help but smile at the polite formality of his gentle Scottish tones.
"Hello there, Dr Gunthorne," Verity smiled, "It's Dr Grant."
Henry's laughter, docile and melodic, channelled through her end of the phone. Verity found it odd to have found so much comfort in someone when she had been so strict with herself she would never trust anyone again.
"Verity," he replied after a moment, the psychologist could practically hear her colleagues smile, "How are you? Have you sorted things, and more importantly – are you alright?"
She leaned back slowly in Tommy's chair, chewing her lip as she wondered on how to tackle the next part. Knowing Henry, he was going to fret over the fact she would not be able to return for some days.
"I'm fine, I just wanted to ask if you'd cancel my clinics for the next 4 days or so. I don't think I'll be back immediately." She tried to keep her tone planate and as nonchalant as possible, but of course he request had cascaded concern onto her friend and colleague.
"Why can't you come home?" He asked, the smile fading from his voice as fast as crows retreating from a gunshot. "Verity, are you really alright?"
She felt a pang of guilty for his immense anxiety over her situation. She couldn't help but feel this way, as she had obviously made Henry aware of her story – but the details had always been sketchy and ambiguous. She had never told henry the man who had captured her heart and all but ruined her life was the notorious Thomas Shelby.
"I just had a fall last night, let's just say conversation got heated. I think I had a panic attack." She explained honestly, resting her hand at her forehead – mentally preparing herself for the next onslaught of frantic questioning.
"You fell!? Are you ok? Where are you now?" he asked, fumbling over his words a little – a mixture of panicky apprehension and frustration blended into one. There a long pause, one at which Verity was not quite sure how best to fill. She didn't want to string lies – not to Henry. However, fortunately for Verity she needn't not concoct a new set of falseties. Henry was a smart man, and used his clinical skills to read into her silence.
"You're still there, aren't you?" he mumbled, sighing deeply. "Tell me where you are V, and I'll come and get you."
The suggestion almost made Verity want to splutter in disbelief, that wasn't exactly something she would be willing to do. This life – the darkness, danger, the sultry singer in the night club charmed by the powerful figure.... Compared to her current life in the tranquility of the cotswolds, long summer days, friendly neighbours and seemingly domestic bliss. They could be no more different than chalk and cheese. Blending them together would just poison the wonderful new world she had created for herself. The last thing she wanted was Henry having to meddle with her menacing ghosts.
"Henry I promise I am fine. He is away at the moment. He has insisted a doctor comes to see me and then I shall be gone into a hotel by tomorrow." She rambled, a lie that spooled off her tongue with reckless abandon. Verity just had to pacify Henry and his anxieties for a little longer. She felt bitter resentment at her own words, if only she would be well enough to hobble her way to the hotel....
"Alright, but please call me tomorrow. If I don't hear anything.... I'm coming to get you." His determination was sweet, but also amusing.
"Henry you don't even know where I am." She smiled softly, realising the trap she had led herself into.
"Because you won't tell me."
Verity's playful smile dissipated, and once again a sickly feeling pooled into her stomach. How she wished this wasn't so difficult, she wanted the past to remain so separate from the gleaming and pure newness of the life she had worked so hard to get back.
"It's for the best." She said plainly, a wordless response of silence on the other end. "I will call you tomorrow Henry. Take care." She concluded, listening to his sombre sounding goodbyes. Verity could only imagine he was taking it somewhat personally that she wouldn't divulge the full information on her situation... but that was something she was just not prepared to do.
Why would she set her paradise on fire so willingly?
-
In the afternoon, after some homemade potato and leek soup and a small nap in bed – the doctor's appointment Verity had been unbothered about having was underway. The older chap, smelling of mints of cigarettes, concluded the psychologist had sprained a ligament in her ankle and it might take some time to heal. A depressing prospect indeed that clouded Verity's mind. It was a short visit, concluded quickly and with the efficiency of a doctor who always had somewhere else to be. One thing Verity was glad for was that she hadn't done any major damage and hopefully she could heal fast enough to get out of here.
A bit later on, and a much cheerier prospect, Verity was visited by Charlie and his very apt dress up white cloak and stethoscope at her bed side. After the little boy had gotten over the initial crazed excitement of his favourite person being back, he was happy to undertake a review of her condition himself.
"You are a very good patient!" he bellowed in this strangely deep, posh voice that only succeeded in making Verity laugh. She could imagine Francis was probably chuckling at the antics from outside of the room.
"Thank you, Dr Shelby." Verity smiled, "I reckon you are even more proficient than the doctor who came to see me earlier on." She smiled, reaching across and brushing the back of her finger under Charlie's chin momentarily in a fond gesture. The little boy laughed, a sound that never became tiresome.
"When I grow up, I think I might be a doctor." Charlie then announced, "Or work with horses. I don't know just yet. Daddy says I'm good with the horses."
Verity smiled at Charlie's innocence, and quietly savoured his completely pure and adorable presence. That boy could be talking about nothing and she would listen to him for hours. He was such a sweet soul – so caring. She only hoped he would forever remain unscathed from his father's sometimes cold and distant ways.
"Your daddy is right, you are good with the horses." She confirmed, a sweet smile on her face, "But you are also a very smart boy too, so if you wanted to be a doctor there would be nothing stopping you, sweetheart." She encouraged, taking his hand and squeezing it softly.
"Are you staying now, Verity?" Charlie asked after a pause, the little boy squeezing his fingers around her own. "Me and daddy missed you. Are you and daddy going to get married?"
Too many question and not enough courage to tell the little boy the painful truth. Wetting her lips. Verity sighed softly and hoped she wouldn't be destroying this little boy's evident happiness.
"Charlie you know I will always be here for you," she started, "But-"
Three stark and bold knocks to the door all but halted the conversation.
"Charlie? What are you doing in there? I thought daddy told you that Verity isn't very well."
Her stomach knotted angrily at his voice, a primal and sadly natural reaction to the sounds of his accented voice. Verity's jaw tightened and she looked away momentarily with a daggered gaze, whilst Charlie was innocently peering at the closed door.
"Sorry Daddy, I just wanted to make Verity feel better." The little boy didn't need any further instruction, he could tell by his father's tones that it was an indicator for him to leave.
As Charlie gathered up his play-pretend medical equipment and headed for the door, the dark wood peeled open and the child disappeared into the corridor – a less-welcome cut figure making his way into the room. Verity couldn't help but exhale a laborious sigh, as the door clicked shut.
"Has the doctor been to see you?" Tommy started, not even directly looking at Verity who was sat upright in bed – arms folded across her chest.
"Yes. Sprained ankle is all really. I should be fine to go soon, I hope." She said with a definitive tone of voice, hoping to set the record straight. She watched on as the Blinder stood with his back to her, looking out of the window at the colourless, cloud filled skies that rolled past the manor. He said nothing for a minute or two, and the feeling of a stuffy uncomfortable silence was beginning to choke at Verity's throat.
Eventually, Tommy broke the silence- turning on his heels and finally taking a look at Verity, his blue eyes a piercing contrast to the muted décor of the bedroom. Verity practically predicted his next move, as his hand reached into the inside of his jacket pocket and picked out the cigarette case.
"I've been to see Arthur and Scarlett today, trying to convince him that business with Eli fucking Valentine is no good."
Verity lifted her gaze from the spot where it had been lingering on the edge of the duvet for some moments. That name... that bastard. She perhaps in some ways hate Eli more than she ever would Tommy... the man was a walking slime ball.
"You speak like I should still care about it," she returned dryly, "I've left that life behind Tommy."
A truth that could have been no realer, but Verity's distancing only intrigued Tommy. He narrowed his eyes momentarily, the unlit cigarette currently hanging precariously from his lips.
"But you were always so close with Scarlett, no?" his voice was radiating smarmy cockiness and Verity found herself recoiling, "She looks about ready to pop. I find it strange you want to leave her in the past too. She was always your best friend?" he knew what he was doing – provoking her like an idiot prodding a viper with a stick.
Verity swallowed hard, in those next few moments her brain calculated her options and she only sought... preservation and peace. She would be no better herself by telling Tommy about Scarlett's secret, and ruining her life. Yes, Scarlett had willingly let Verity's reputation go to the dogs but time had moved on. Verity felt happy now in her new life, and she felt it was very much not in her nature to ruin Scarlett's only sense of peace if she revealed the truth about Eli and the club. She would surely end up a homeless new mother with no place to turn... Verity couldn't stomach the thought.
"I knew if I kept in touch with Scarlett, there would always be links back to you." She said otherwise, a wise and reasonable response in which Tommy seemed happy enough to acknowledge, lighting the cigarette as it chuffed away like a chimney. He didn't say anything else, which was surprising. Verity had been expecting some kind of quick witted remark.
"Since we're here...." He then started, eyeing her up steadily, "You've got nothing to lose, be honest. Did you burn down the Eden?"
Another corpse of the past rising up once again to rear it's ugly head. Verity scoffed at the constant dragging up of dismissed matters.
"I wasn't lying to you before when I said I hadn't done it." She reminded Tommy coarsely, for a second she thought about telling them to look closer at Eli but she didn't wish for any points to trace back to Scarlett. "So, no, keep looking for your perpetrator. But it wasn't me." She adjusted her seat a little in the bed as she sighed frustratedly.
"I loved you Tommy, you should have known I'd never do anything like that to hurt you." She put emotion into her words, and a little venom – as clearly that love was never reciprocated in the same way.
The Blinder rested his back against the dresser at the end of the bed, prising the cigarette from his lips momentarily as angered frown occupied his brow. He read into her bitter tones, his own reaction only amplified by the emotion in her words.
"You think I never felt the same way?" he instigated, "Do you know how much it fucking hurt me to realise I loved you... after all I had put you through? Feeling like I couldn't say anything because then I knew..." his voice was frayed, tense and revisiting of the trauma he had been trying to learn to live with.
"I knew this would fucking happen. That I'd lose you."
Verity raised her gaze, seeing that his eyes had somewhat reddened and become glassier. He turned away before she could look for too long, taking another prolonged draw of the cigarette.
"You've only got your own selfish and greedy ways to blame for that, Tommy." Verity sighed in a tiresome tone. She imagined he probably thought she'd show some pity at the signs of his emotions – but that was far from the truth. She wasn't giving him the satisfaction or the privilege of her compassion.
He surprised her then – the arrogant, never relenting and stubborn Thomas Shelby. For he uttered, a very pained: "I know."
It stunned her into silence, not that she was planning to give him the gift of conversation anyway. He then stepped forwards, clearing his throat as he tried to dismiss the last ebbs of emotions that had threatened to overrun him.
Quietly, he reached into his pocket again – but this time pulled out a small grey business card. The moment he started to make his way to her beside, Verity could hear herself outwardly groaning. She knew it wouldn't be long before he had turned to grovelling.
"Whatever is it, I don't want it Tommy." Verity snapped, avoiding his gaze as he knelt down at her side of the bed.
The blinder took to ignoring her pleas, pointing frantically at the card in his grasp.
"I went to see the head of the General Medical Council today," he detailed with a pressure to his speech – one of urgency and the desperate need for Verity to just listen. "I've made another appointment for us to see him both next week."
"You can cancel that, I'm not going. I won't be here!" she battled back, determined to stay grounded.
"I said I was going to fix this, and I fucking will!" Tommy returned with the same defiance in his voice, "I can get you back everything you lost. The clinic, the patients, all the certificates and more. You won't need to go back because everything you need will be in London."
She shook her head dismally, he didn't get the point did he? It wasn't just the business he had taken. He had made her lose her family, made her lose her trust in people and drove her crazy feeling as if she had been some foolish girl all this time to play his clown whilst he made a mockery of her.
"What about my sister and nephew? Hm? My parents? Are you going to bribe them back to?" she cried, "You don't get it Tommy. It's the principal of it all. Once again you are handing me things I have already done myself. I'm sick and fucking tired of men thinking they can control what they give and what they take."
She saw the dilation of desperate misery rising in Tommy's eyes as she clenched her jaw, hazel eyes icier than a December morning.
"Don't you think you've had enough control of me by now?" She hissed, intonation packed with resentment and a coldness where there had once been warmth and light. Tommy reflected deeply on this, as he mutely rose to his feet and left the room without any further pleas for reason.
He knew he was going to have work a lot harder than that to try to make amends.