e l i t e s / T. Shelby / Th...

By completelyinsecure

107K 3.9K 229

e·lite /əˈlēt,āˈlēt/ noun noun: elite; plural noun: elites a group or class of people seen as having the grea... More

✧ t h e f a c e s ✧
✧ t h e f a c e s ii ✧
✧ e p i g r a p h ✧
✧ d a r k n e s s ✧
✧ m a d n e s s ✧
one * ˚ ✦
two * ˚ ✦
three * ˚ ✦
four * ˚ ✦
five * ˚ ✦
six * ˚ ✦
✧ e n d o f a c t i ✧
seven * ˚ ✦
eight* ˚ ✦
nine* ˚ ✦
ten * ˚ ✦
eleven * ˚ ✦
twelve * ˚ ✦
✧ e n d o f a c t i i✧
thirteen* ˚ ✦
fourteen* ˚ ✦
fifteen* ˚ ✦
sixteen* ˚ ✦
seventeen* ˚ ✦
eighteen * ˚ ✦
✧ e n d o f a c t i i i ✧
nineteen * ˚ ✦
twenty * ˚ ✦
twenty-one * ˚ ✦
twenty-two * ˚ ✦
twenty-three * ˚ ✦
twenty-four * ˚ ✦
✧ e n d o f a c t i v ✧
twenty-five* ˚ ✦
Twenty-six * ˚ ✦
Twenty-seven* ˚ ✦
Twenty-eight* ˚ ✦
Thirty* ˚ ✦
━━━march 1926
━━━september 1926
━━━march 1927
━━━september 1927
━━━march 1928
━━━september 1928
━━━August 1929
Thirty-one* ˚ ✦
Thirty-two* ˚ ✦
thirty-three * ˚ ✦

Twenty-nine* ˚ ✦

1.2K 62 4
By completelyinsecure

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺
"I know. So far, I don't see anyone worshipping me. Kissing my feet."

He was such a maddening man.

Irene scowled behind her glass of champagne, watching Thomas Shelby sit there, on the couch, laughing it up with Lizzie Stark. The latter proceeded to side-eye the socialite as she puts a hand on his arm. Save for her and Isabelle; everyone was having a wonderful time. Drinking, chatting, dancing, whoring. The two oldest daughters of the Grosvenors were scrutinizing the room with much poise, holding their champagne with their Garrard adorned fingers.

"I thought we were the guests of honour, " Whispered Isabelle as she twirls the diamond necklace on her neck. Irene sighed before chugging the last remnants of her champagne and motioning for another glass, "I know. So far, I don't see anyone worshipping me. Kissing my feet."

The both of them laughed rather too loudly. Every guest turned their heads, the buzz around the room immediately coming to a halt. Robert, who was talking to Daphne - of course - shook his head disapprovingly. The two drunk girls shrugged before suppressing another laugh.

Without her noticing, the corner of Thomas' lips turned upward. Smirking at the ridiculously beautiful heiress clad in green satin. Her dark winding hair was let down, cascading down her shoulders. Irene was accompanied by her favourite companions, her sister and a glass of alcohol.

Snapping from his trance, Tommy stood up, "Nice. Hey!"

His eyes drifted to Irene. But when he caught her, she quickly averted her gaze everywhere else except him.

Well, that was infuriating.

Clearing his throat, Thomas Shelby continued, "Listen up. Um... Before we go and eat, I'd like to say a few words. Last time we were all here, it ended badly."

Tabitha hugged Arthur from behind when he agreed with a simple, "Yeah."

Irene fought the urge to vomit into her glass when Mr Shelby looked at Lizzie as he said, "And now, we're in a happier place."

"You know, Tommy knocked her up," Ada whispered to her. Both Isabelle and Irene turned to Ada with lightning speed.

The latter finding it impossible to ingest the news, she puts her glass of champagne down—something she had never done before. Out of the peripheral of her eyes, she could see how Isabelle was signalling to Ada and the latter realizing and forming a big O with her lips.

Pregnant, huh. That was why he was ignoring her, being so indifferent towards her. Because he got Lizzie fucking Stark fucking pregnant.

Suddenly the scene in front of her becomes blurry. Her heart was beating fast against her ribs, her palms becoming sweaty, her head suddenly ringing. Thomas Shelby lied to her. Maybe he didn't lie outright, seeing it wasn't really her business, but he definitely withheld the truth. Was she nothing to him? Was Irene just another piece in his game, ready to be rid of?

Was she really that low to him?

She was a fucking aristocrat everywhere else. Except in Tommy Shelby's devil eyes.

He let her stay up all night wondering what she had done so wrong for him to disregard her.

He made her doubt her fucking self.

All for hiding the fact that he shagged another woman? When Irene already knows that he probably have shagged half of Birmingham already.

"Irene, my darling, are you alright?" Ana approached the two. The rest of the girls following her.

She blinked, "Huh? Oh yeah, I'm splendid,"

"Superb even." She didn't need those looks. Those sympathetic looks.

The girls looked at each other. Knowing that Irene was far from being superb. They have only seen her like this twice or thrice during the span of their two-decade friendship. And all of them doesn't end with laughter.

From across the room, she could see her Papa and brother standing happily near Thomas Shelby. Completely unaware of what he had done to their sweet little girl. Probably talking about the next big business move or the next political arrangements.

This was all their fault.

So when a server approached, hands busy carrying drinks and amuse bouchées, The socialite snagged a glass when the blue-eyed gang leader lifted his whiskey,

"That's it. I'd like to raise a toast-"

She yawned loudly. Catching the attention of all those in the room, including the man raising his whiskey. Irene lifted her drink to match Tommy's before downing it. Setting it down loudly before winking her tear-filled eye.

"Irene-"

The girl passed Thomas on her way out the door, letting him savour her one more time before losing all this. Letting her flowing green dress truly glide around him before setting her eyes outside.

She didn't even bother looking at the looks of alarm on every person's face.

It was true. Tonight she wasn't the guest of honour.

She, in turn, was the guest of horror.

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺

It was freezing outside.

She probably made a mistake by going to the gardens instead of truly rid herself of this place. But something about watching the roses dance under the chilly wind brings a certain tranquillity to Irene's racing minds.

She rested her head on her knees, truly processing what she had done. Irene was not one to panic quite quickly, but the idea of her father and brother being mad at her truly made her rethink her rude yawning. She studied the green mulberry silk clinging on her body, noting how thin it was and how unsuitable it was for this wintry weather.

Singing native French songs seemed to be a fine idea to fill the silence.

The gardens were probably not the best place for hiding from your scrutinizing confidantes, but she truly was reluctant to move. She doesn't want to give Thomas Shelby the satisfaction of coming back so easily. The longer she took, the more desperate he would be—the more gullible.

Though she was not sure, a man like Thomas Shelby could be gullible.

Oh well.

Footsteps behind her made Irene stiffen. Not him, not him, not him.

The person settled closely next to her. She hid a triumphant smile; It was Ana. "Hi."

"Hello, young lady."

"Ugh, don't call me that." The wind carried Irene's voice up high. Her half Spanish friend chuckled lightly, a sound she would always treasure. "So, you missed the news."

"What news?" Irene was worried. If any of her friends needed anything, she'd be happy to help, even if it meant risking her own life in the process.

"I'm expecting."

The Grosvenor socialite's eyes widened, "Expecting as in-"

"I am carrying a baby in my body. And it's John's." Added Ana after seeing the quizzical look behind her friend's brown orbs.

Irene clapped her hands around her mouth, languidly blinking long-lashed brown eyes. She'd gone pale by this point, pausing to process the incredibly shocking but joyous announcement. She hugged Ana tightly, "No. I-I mean, what? How?"

"Well, I know you haven't done it in a while,"

Ana earned a playful glare from Irene.

"But babies are made by having sexual relations."

Irene breathed into the night, "Wow. So many things happening tonight. Lots of babies are coming, huh?"

The hand caressing her hair was gentle enough for Irene to be closing her eyes. Careful enough not to spill her tears in front of her newly – or at least to her – pregnant companion. "Are you okay, Celeste?"

"I'm alright," Irene said, letting her voice tremble. "I'm just, uh, enjoying the night sky."

Her glance at Ana was brief, though long enough for her to catch the sympathy behind her eyes. She gave her a sweet smile to compensate for the not-so-convincing lie.

Then silence. Just them, the starry night sky above, the cruel winds, and the sound of crickets accompanying the sombre mood.

Irene finally spoke again. "I'm not fine, actually. But... Uh, I will be." She nodded her head as if to convince herself. "I will be. I always am, after a while anyway."

She paused. "Wait, why are you crying?"

tears stained ana's cheeks with tears, "It's – please stop lying to yourself, Irene. You are miles away from being fine. It hurts us to see you like this; you never do this. Not for a boy. A-and this,"

She gestured with her hands, "This self-destruction lying thing you're doing. It breaks out hearts. This steel façade you always put on the minute you wake up to the second you close your eyes again. When inside, you're just broken glass. From that incident to this kidnapping. "

"You are perfectly allowed to be vulnerable, Irene."

Irene took a shaky breath before laughing aloud. The sound of her laughter bounced across the walls of the manor. They probably heard her cackle inside. Wondering what was so funny that made the heiress go from sour to sweet. Though anyone gifted enough with an ear could tell her laugh was just another forced mechanism to fill her sad void inside.

"Ana, darling, please. I am brilliant. I have a new niece – or a nephew – coming soon. I have you girls, my family. Oh, when did you find out about your pregnancy anyway?"

Ana noticed how Irene was changing the subject swiftly. That bugger was one smooth talker. She sighed, "Uh... two-three weeks ago?"

"And you've hidden this from all of us?"

"Well, I wanted to be sure."

"Right."

Ana leaned back, "And scared, I was scared. I had to tell my papa first. Thank God he was supportive."

"That's brilliant, Ana, truly. I am so so happy for you."

Ana rested her head on Irene's bare shoulder, "So can I ask you a question?"

"Of course." Answered Irene as she leaned her head atop Ana's. Just leaning on each other for support. A pretty raw moment for her to be this vulnerable. Later, we'll build the bricks up one by one again.

Ana locked her arms together, "What do you feel towards Mr Shelby-"

"Wait, did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"That sound. Someone's called us." Irene stood up, fixing her dress before leaving her pregnant friend behind, looking puzzled. She moved her legs swiftly around the manor, chuckling inwardly.

It took a while for Ana to realize, "Irene. Come back here!"

The Grosvenor heiress was already marking the stairway close to the terrace.

"Irene Grosvenor, you come back here right now!"

Irene snorted, laughing at how gullible Ana could be. Her feet carried her atop the steps, where she paused to catch her breath. Once she lifted her head, sweat making her hair stick to her forehead and the back of her neck, Irene was greeted by someone long gone yet still very much attached to this grand manor.

She shivered. The painting of Grace Burgess stared back at her.

"Well, well."

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