* * *
Dutch Van der Linde had been tricked once by a man named Bronte. Bronte was a man not to be reckoned with in Saint Denis. He had money, infamous fame, and high status.
what was the trick Bronte committed before? He stole Jack, eventually the gang got him back, but now Bronte was being friendly. What is it that sneaky aristocrat could want from the Van der Linde Gang? Nothing, really, except for the fact he was skeptical, threatened even. He needed to befriend his enemy only to know how to be rid of them. So, how could he become closer to Dutch Van der Linde and make 'amends'?
Invite them over to his mansion for a party. It was the only thing he could think of. What more trusting of an act than an invitation to one's own home for a celebration.
"Arthur, Bill, and Hosea," called Dutch. "Come over here, now!" He was waiting around his tent, pacing back and forth until those who were summoned showed up.
Arthur headed over, pausing from sharpening his throwing knife. He rolled his eyes and set the blade aside. "What's goin' on here, Dutch?" He asked with his hands on his belt.
Hosea fixed his hat and tie. "Yes, Dutch, what seems to be up your sleeve now?" He set his focus completely on the leader of the group, awaiting further explanation.
Dutch looked to each man, then carefully chose his words. "Men, we need to branch out. We need to settle ourselves in with the town. Bronte has invited us to his Mansion for some kind of-" he gestured his hands around, "party! Yes, of all things. What a perfect opportunity to set ourselves amongst the common people-"
"A party?" Arthur shifted his weight. "The hell, Dutch? I thought we 'supposed to lie low! This Bronte man is nothin' but trouble? Why would we want to go back to him for?"
Bill furrowed his brows. "Hey! Dutch's got a plan. There's a reason to his methods!" He clearly just wanted to go along with whatever Dutch had in store. He was a compete 'yes-man' most of the time.
"Yeah, Dutch, I'd have to agree with Arthur on this. He took Jack! Now we're all buddy-buddy with him because he kept his word once?" Hosea was a man of reason and logic. He would carefully plot his next move and this 'plan' of Dutch's did not make any kind of sense.
Dutch tightened his fists and shook his finger. "You all need to have faith! Bill understood, he's on top of it all! We have to get in close with Bronte. He's got money and connections! You know how many rich folks are going to be there?"
Arthur crossed his arms and inched a little closer. "Yeah, and we'll get found out! We know nothin' of what those 'rich folk' talk about! All we know about them is how to steal their money. What if they catch us while we're at it?" He did have a point. They were con-artists and thieves and of they got caught in a close conversation with one aristocrat at the party, there would be a good enough chance they would be found out.
Dutch sighed. Why was convincing the gang to go to a fancy party becoming such a hassle? "Well, Hosea is all we got for that. The two of you need to stay quiet, I guess!"
Just then, (Y/n) chimed in. "What's all this noise? You know, with all the yelling?" She could only hear bits and pieces of what was being said and was interested in what was going on.
Bill raised his brows. "Well, if it isn't Arthur's little-" he stopped talking after receiving a threatening glare from Arthur. "...oh!" He threw his hands up in defense and turned away from (Y/n).
Hosea turned to her, wondering of her background. "(Y/n),"he started, "you wouldn't know anything about what wealthy men and women talk about, would you?"
"Uhh," she croaked. Had they found out who she was? No, impossible...well, maybe not 'impossible' but...
Hosea continued, "maybe how they act?"
"Well-"
"We may need your help."
"But-"
"You seem like a bright young lady. You mentioned once you read quite a bit. Perhaps you'll pass off as a rich aristocrat!" Hosea quickly looked over the rest of the men next to him. "Think about it! No one would suspect a lady like (Y/n) to be deceitful."
Dutch rubbed his chin, thinking over the suggestion. "Well, that would make some sense. Abigail and Tilly would not pass well, Karen and Sadie are a complete 'no' to the mission, and Mary keeps her head in the clouds way too often..." He began to analyze (Y/n), squinting his eyes.
Arthur had not known what to say. The mission did not seem to be dangerous, well only if they did not get caught in the stealing act, so there was little to object to if (Y/n) was brought in the mix.
Dutch walked closer to her, causing her heart to pump quickly. (Y/n) could tell he was mentally questioning the decision. "Who were you before coming here?" He asked.
(Y/n) wanted to avert her gaze, but she stood tall and confident. "Before I came here? I was a maid to a wealthy businessman. He got robbed and killed and so I had nothing left to go to." It was a lie, and it was a bit of truth.
"So, " Dutch said, "you recall what kind of people businessmen spoke to? What have they talked about? Surely you have experience in the matter."
She nodded her head in assurance. "But of course. I know exactly the kind and how to read each one of them."
Dutch turned around back to the men. "Alright then, it's settled. (Y/n) is our girl to guide us."
"You can't be serious-" said Bill. His arms fell to his sides in disbelief. He mumbled to himself, "we don't need no girl...we were fine with shootin' our way out before..."
Hosea patted (Y/n) on the shoulder. "Welcome to the gang officially, Miss Johnson!" He pulled Arthur towards him. "And, Arthur, you can stand in as (Y/n)'s husband at the party-"
Surprised, Arthur coughed and cleared his throat, his face slightly heating up.
Dutch closely paid attention to Arthur's reaction. He, himself, had wondered how infatuated Arthur was in (Y/n). Dutch was against the idea of him settling down with a woman ever because it would lead to Arthur, his right-hand man, to leave the gang. He thought he would lose him to Mary Linton, but luckily she was not as interested in Arthur. He could not afford him leaving. He was a pawn he could not give up, at least just yet.
(Y/n) was caught by surprise. "Hosea, what on earth-"
"No aristocrat woman would be seen escorted alone at a party or any public setting. It's just how it is, you know that I'm sure." Hosea winked at (Y/n) and turned to Arthur. "And I'm sure Miss Johnson would prefer being escorted by you rather than me, Dutch, or Bill."
"Pfft," (Y/n) said, "anyone but Bill."
* * *
Bill propped his leg on a wooden stool and laid back into a seat while waiting for the others. "How long does it take for y'all to get ready?" He complained.
Hosea walked up beside him, fixing his bowtie. "We have to look the part, Bill. We can't show up looking like the usual, well, us." He lightly kicked Bill's leg with enough force to push it off the wooden stool. Bill grunted and crossed his arms. Then, he raised his brows in surprise.
Hosea did the same except with more enthusiasm when seeing Arthur. "And who is this dapper man I'm speaking to?" He smiled and patted Arthur on the shoulder, happy to see he cleaned himself up nicely. His hair was neatly trimmed and swept aside; his black suit and white dress shirt were pressed; his face was nearly shaved clean. Arthur was always seen by many as a decent looking man, but now that he had put in the effort, he was almost a new man. He definitely could pass off as a wealthy denizen of Saint Denis.
"Ha-ha," Arthur said in a dry, sarcastic laugh. "I could say the same to you two! I mean, looky you fellers. I don't think I've ever seen Bill look so clean b'fore." He grinned, content with offended look etched on Bill's face.
Dutch came over dressed in his best suit and his hair slicked back with pomade. He usually tended to dress 'fancy' or something close to being presentable, as Dutch thought highly of himself. But, tonight, he tried specially to look the part of a wealthy man amongst the people at Bronte's mansion. "Good evening, my good men!" Dutch laughed. "Now, I'm assuming we're awaiting Miss Johnson."
* * *
Meanwhile, (Y/n) was struggling to lace up her dress. When she had worn these fancy gowns before, a maid or her mother was close by to readily assist. Oh, she missed her family. (Y/n) thought about her parents daily, reminiscing the days before the cursed arranged marriage.
"You need some help there, Miss Johnson?" Asked Micah. He passed by her tent and could see her form struggle to lace her dress through the thinnest opening of the flaps of the tent. Micah was always a snake, sneaking around to find the perfect opportunity to bite. He moved aside the tent's flaps and slowly sauntered closer.
(Y/n) quickly spun around to avoid the creepy man before her from seeing her bare back. "Micah, get the bloody hell out of my tent!" She said harshly with gritted teeth.
He chuckled and an evil glint had shown in his eyes. "Oh? So, Arthur's pet finally got my name down? And she's got some bark to her, huh?"
"I said get out!" (y/n) grabbed a nearby empty glass beer bottle and pointed it at Micah. "Now!" She warned.
Micah was impressed. (Y/n) had changed since his first encounter. "You know, I like me a feisty woman like yourself." He smiled an evil grin. "I was just tryin' to help you out. You see, we got off on the wrong foot back then. Lacing up your corset is the least I can do to make up for it." He advanced closer.
(Y/n) had a fierce look in her eyes. She could not believe the audacity this crazy man had. Quickly, she grunted and slammed the glass bottle to the side table in the tent, making the bottle broken with many sharp points. "Leave me alone!"
"Micah! Get out of there or I won't hold (Y/n) back from piercing your heart out!" Yelled Sadie. She never trusted Micah either. Actually, quite a few others around the camp were beginning to have a sense of distrust towards him.
He backed up, giving into their demands. "Alright, fair enough." He shoved past Sadie as he slowly made his way out. "But (Y/n), if you ever get tired of that Cowpoke, I'd be more than delighted to have you." He laughed to himself while walking off into the camp.
Sadie walked in the tent and close its flaps behind her. "You alright, (Y/n)?" She glanced at the glass shards.
"Yes, I'm fine. Thank you for that. I really thought I was going to have to stab a man just then." (Y/n) thankfully smiled to Sadie. "Would you please help me with this? I can't seem to reach it." She turned around to show the un-done lace of her (f/c) dress.
"Of course," said Sadie. "I understand the struggle. These darn dresses were always the worst!" The two girls laughed and (Y/n) afterwards departed to meet with the other men. It seemed that tonight was going to be a long night out.