Thomas Shelby's office was a realm of calculated chaos.
Well, at least that is what he would like to think of it. When in reality, the room was poorly lit, the air was thick and heavy with the scent of tobacco and licor, with little to no color or life but maybe it's true when they say that the state of your room is a reflection of your mind.
Papers, contracts, documents, letters, and ledgers covered his desk, alongside empty cups and cigarette ashes. He was somewhat lost, had much to do, little time, and everything was urgent, so he didn't even know where to begin with.
A quick knock on the door made Thomas glance up, his expression a mixture of annoyance and curiosity. "What?" he grumbled, his fingers running through his disheveled hair.
"Aren't you going to eat, Mr. Shelby? Is lunchtime." Mary asked, twisting her apron nervously. "You've missed dinner and breakfast..."
"I'm not hungry Mary."
"Oh." She nodded, looking down but doing her best to keep the conversation flow. "Ahm, Lady Leonor asked about you this morning."
Thomas sighed, rubbing his forehead as if he had just now learned that he was married and that she lived in his house. "How is she, Mary?"
"Hm, she doesn't speak enough for me to know, sir." He glanced at Mary with an unreadable expression, and she hesitated before continuing. "Well, her meals are left almost barely touched, and she spends most of her time in the garden, alone."
"I see," he mused, his thoughts instantly returning to the recent intrusion. He wondered if it was the sole reason for Leonor's silence or if there was something more significant he was failing to grasp, but how could he compare? They barely spoke to each other, even before it happened. "Thank you, Mary. That will be all."
Mary blinked in surprise, she expected a different reaction from him, a hint of concern at the very least, but once again, he was Thomas Shelby, when it was about him, well, she should know better by now.
To expect the unexpected from him should be the norm, not the exception.
Thomas took another cigarette out of his case and quickly lit up, thinking about his busy schedule for the upcoming week.
There was Diana's gala, his speech at the working center on Small Heath, and what he secretly dreads the most, the visit to the winery with Leonor's uncles.
The reason for such dread was that she insisted on coming along with him and now without Gloria, she would have no choice but to play the role of the quiet wife but something told him she wouldn't go gently, especially when Diana, Oswald and Jack would be there as well.
A sharp knock on the door disrupted his silent contemplation, causing Thomas to almost flinch, irritation clear in his eyes. "What is it now?" he barked, his voice cold and demanding as he lit up the cigarette that was put out amidst his thinking. "Mary, I told you, I'm not hungry."
"...and I'm not Mary," the voice countered, revealing Leonor, who stood before his desk, carrying a tray. "Move it." She indicated his papers with a nod, trying her best to balance the tray in her hands, blowing a strand of her raven hair away from her face. He reluctantly moved his papers, his irritation evident, while Leonor kept the tray as steady as possible. Upon closer inspection, he saw two sandwiches on a plate and two glasses, presumably filled with lemonade.
"What is all this?" Thomas inquired, leaning back in his chair, his curiosity piqued.
"Lunch, I believe," she shrugged, grabbing one of the sandwiches and taking a bite as she took in the cluttered office. Her eyes closed briefly as she savored the flavors. "Do you want to try it?"
Thomas looked at her with a furrowed brow, he was about to argue but refrained as he watched her, his curiosity grew, and he couldn't help but notice a small, reddish bump on her hairline.
"What happened here?" Thomas asked, licking his lips as he reached for a cigarette. Leonor abandoned her sandwich, casting her eyes toward his fingers as she wiped inexistent bread crumbs off her dark green dress. He noticed but didn't put it out. "Leonor."
"Oh...nothing," she dismissed, her hand unconsciously touching the bump as she chose not to meet his gaze.
"It doesn't seem nothing."
"Nothing but a scratch. Do you want to try it?" Leonor insisted, handing him the sandwich but he just glanced at it. "Your new cook made it for me."
"Yeah? And did he make that bump on your head as well?" He was inquiseted, relenteless.
"No, of course not!" Leonor nodded her head knowing her husband was quick to anger as Thomas crossed his arms, impatiently waiting. "The truth is...I can't eat your food, Thomas, it's too english." She appeared embarrassed as he mentioned the bump on her head, pausing between her words, doing her best to choose them wisely. "I tried to but, I can't."
It dawned on him that the warning Mary had given him wasn't simply a matter of fussy eating or lack of appetite.
Thomas figured it was frivolous behavior or the lack of hunger, or even a tantrum, but no. As he continued to smoke his cigarette, he realized that Leonor wasn't avoiding the food solely because of its flavor, and he felt a pang of guilt for not realizing it sooner.
"I just didn't know it would make me fall head first." She tried to change the subject, fixing her hair but it was no avail, the bump was as clear as day.
He then became angry at himself, for taking this long to realize this, under his own roof. Could he imagine if the word got out amongst her peers that Thomas Shelby's wife had been starved to the point of fainting? Even worse, it looked a few days old, so he wondered where she fell and if anyone was around to help her.
"So what do you like to eat?" Thomas took a deep breath, watching as she picked up the other half of the sandwich and took a big bite of it. "Besides sandwiches..."
"I don't like sandwiches." She nearly laughed but quickly covered her mouth, attempting to keep up with her manners. She continued to chew and swallow before speaking again, something he hadn't seen much of around him. Manners, you mean? he thought to himself. "This is the only thing Tony managed to get me in the kitchen that resembles home."
"Why didn't you mention it earlier?" he asked, reflecting on the various hints Mary had provided, which he had ignored. Leonor remained silent, focused on finishing the last bites of her sandwich, but her tired eyes told him why.
You wouldn't've listened.
"Very well," he conceded. "I apologize for not realizing sooner, eh?" He shifted in his seat, acknowledging his mistake, and took a bite of the sandwich she had brought him. The fresh bread tore beneath his teeth with a satisfying crunch, giving way to the tender jamón within. The saltiness of the smoked ham was replaced by the juice of a ripe tomato and the freshness of lettuce, and at last, the olive oil added subtle earthiness to it.
Leonor watched him with anticipation, eager to see his reaction. She was still so hungry that wouldn't be offended in the slightest if he hated it if he spit out and cursed her for even bringing him this plate. "So? What do you think?"
"I can see why you don't like sandwiches." He joked, putting down the rest of it, to which Leonor laughed, quickly picking it up.
"So you won't mind if I finish this for you, will you?" Leonor asked hopefully, dancing in her seat as she was already biting onto it. Thomas nodded a no and watched as she ate the rest, knowing she wanted more than him.
Even though he liked it, even though he wanted it, he wouldn't admit it, at least not for now.
"You know, I think you would like it better with wine." Leonor tried, finishing the last bite, and sipping on the lemonade. "And I know just the one..."
"Of course...how subtle can you be, eh?!" Thomas grinned, in disbelief as he threw his head back. "So the sandwiches were just an excuse, a diversion?"
"No, of course not...fine, maybe the bump on my head was but it almost worked, didn't it?" She chuckled, wiping her mouth. "It's just a joke, Thomas..."
"I don't see it as a joke." He stood from his seat, nodding his head as he walked past her, to which she followed him, through the drawing room to the entrance hall. "No, not this time."
"Please?" She asked, furrowing her brows. "You said I could go!"
He almost gave in. "I said no, Leonor." But their conversation had already drifted into an uneasy pace as Leonor grew more persistent, much to his discontent.
"Why?" She insisted, once again.
"There are people that will be there that I don't want you to be around."
"Who?" And once more.
"Diana, Mosley, Jack-"
She crossed her arms in defiance. "Oh, please, your associates? Is that an excuse or a diversion?"
"Whatever it works with you." Thomas took a deep breath, annoyed. "I'll take you another time, alright? I can't have my new wife around dangerous people for nothing, eh? Or you did forget what happened a few days ago?"
"It happened in your house!" She hadn't forgotten, but she was desperate for fresh air or someone to talk to. Mary was kind, but not what she needed. "Not out of it!"
"The safest place for you is here, inside Arrow House, that will be the end of it."
Leonor glared at him, furious as she scratched the bump on her head, out of frustration, as poison dripped from her words. "If you say so, husband."
The doorbell chimed just as they concluded their conversation, and Leonor reacted before Mary had the chance to, against Thomas's protests she flung open the door to reveal a burly man with a cane, and an array of rings, so golden it matched the sun.
"Ah, hello there. You must be Thomas's new foreign wife." The man spoke with the thickest accent she ever heard, almost as thick as Arthur's, but she found his more difficult.
"Hello..." She blinked in surprise, her hand still holding the door wide open, as she took notice of the dog the man kept on a leash, softening up at the sight.
"Please, allow me to introduce me self, 'cause I don't believe your husband had the kindness to do it, right mate?! I'm Mr. Solomons." Leonor looked at him as he grabbed her hand from the handle, kissing the back of it with a delicacy that she didn't expect out of a such rough-looking man. "But you, my lady, you can call me Alfie."
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