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"You took my Burberry coat didn't you?!"
November 1925
present-day
Irene huffed frustratedly, her arms flailing about. In her hands, came clothes flying around, forming a pile of finely-crafted luxury garments. Her brown eyes look around, unsatisfied.
The girl walked toward her wardrobe, her fast hands once again moved through the neatly-hanged clothes. Not finding what she's looking for she crossed her arms against her chest pacing back and forth, contemplating on which sister raided her wardrobe and took her coat. She stopped mad pacing,
Imogen.
Still in her nightgown, Irene grabbed the black silk robe hanging on the coat hanger and exited her room. The smell of breakfast wafted through her nose, immediately after she walked out of her room. Its smell seducing her, as if the food itself knew that she was going to throw her sister a fit.
Not now, stomach, after i scold her ears off i swear i will give you my undivided attention she thought as she caressed her grumbling tummy. She snickered at the silly thought.
Irene's feet carried her to the dining room where she knew the culprit behind her missing coat will be. As she walked through the tall mahogany doors leading to the dining room, Irene noticed that her papa, Robert, and Imogen had started eating breakfast.
With her papa sitting at his seat at the head of the table, Robert sitting on his right and Imogen sitting beside him. No one sits on the left side of their papa, that space belonged to Irene.
Her papa's eyes looked up from his papers when he saw his oldest daughter came in, "Ah... you've graced us with your presence. Good - "
"I've always told you to fucking tell me whenever you take clothes from my wardrobe, have i?" Irene pointed a finger toward her sister Imogen, who's trying to eat her poached egg.
"Morning..." Papa continued, grimacing at his daughter's choice of word. Irene turned her head quickly to her father, "Morning." Then back to her little sister, who seems to be unbothered by the sudden accusation.
Robert and Papa looked at each other, knowing where this is headed. "Well?"
Imogen looked up with an innocent look webbed on her face, "I haven't the slightest at what you're talking about, Irene."
Irene scoffed, "Oh how brilliant you are at lying, did my old school La Rosey taught you to lie? The Art of Deception; How to Become a Snake?"
Imogen's face started to tinge red as she stood up, "Again, Irene the Great, i have no idea-"
"You took my Burberry coat didn't you?!" Irene tore off a piece of bread angrily and shoved it inside her mouth, she tried to ignore the growling in her stomach, she really did. "Irene, you have about a dozen times four of those, you have to be more speci-"
"The cream coloured one Aunt Margoux had delivered from France!" At this, Imogen's face contorted into a hard-thinking expression. Irene scoffed again, this time she added her signature bitchy rolled eyes.
To help her sister remember, Irene added, "I distinctly remember you said you were going to have tea at the Kingston's, and i remembered clearly you were leaving the house in such a haste. Had i known you were carrying my coat - which was illegally taken - i would have refrained you from going."
"What is with all the shouting? It's morning, people, morning!" Came in the second oldest daughter of the family, golden hair a nest atop her head, eyes still droopy - with what seems like boogers still decorating it -, and a track of drool dried from the right corner of her mouth to her chin. All of them looked at Isabelle as she took a seat beside Irene's. Their papa mumbled through his cigar, "And they say my daughters are the most beautiful among the land."
"Isabelle, Imogen had stolen my Burberry coat." Irene sat in her seat between papa and Isabelle. The girl that had just woken up beggar-like poured tea unto her and Irene's cup, "Irene, are you really a twenty-six year old? You have so many other coats, why fuss over this one."
Irene saw the smug look Imogen had thrown her way, she wanted to rip it right from her face.
"Besides, we have to be generous with all of our stuff, we are sisters for God's sake. We share the same blood, why can't we share clothes?" Isabelle continued, her chest puffed up proudly. Imogen rolled her eyes, "That's a lot coming from you, Izzy."
"Excuse me?"
"Just two weeks ago, i wanted to borrow your Prada dress and you said no."
"I just defended you arse, and this is how you repay me?"
"Oh so you ask for her permission but you don't ask mine?" Irene chimed in, looking at Imogen like she was a dead meat.
"Besides, Imogen, you think i'm gonna let you borrow my Prada dress to a painting class?"
"What happened to your bullshit about generosity and blood?" Imogen exclaimed loudly, throwing her hands up in the air.
"Still waiting on that Burberry coat." Irene sipped her tea, while cracking on her eggs. Now the argument has escalated to just three sisters shouting at each other, each one louder than the last. This is normally how they would start their morning, a healthy dose of arguments and fights over things that are not relevant to fight about.
The two men seems to had gotten used to this interaction as the both of them are still enjoying their breakfast. With a puff of his cigar, papa rubbed his temple back and forth, "Right, girls. That's enough."
It was as if a spell had been cast, all three girls obliged immediately. Mouth shut as they once again take their seats around the table. Papa looked antsy this morning, despite him trying hard to mask it all, she could see it.
Although Irene couldn't recall the last time her papa looked anything like nervous or over the edge, possibly she simply never seen her father nervous in any shape or form. All she knew was that her papa was not afraid of anyone, a proud man. He had always been someone well respected by both the aristocrats and the civilians.
Hugh Grosvenor is simply a modern man with intelligence, charisma, and a generosity like no other.
"Right, so, you are all coming with me on a business expansion to Birmingham."
The quietness engulfed the room, a pin drop could probably be heard at this point. All three girls looked at each other slowly, then turned to their brother, Robert. He looked awfully calm and reserved, Irene sighed, "I knew something was up when Robert hasn't uttered a single insult on your appearance, Izzy."
Isabelle rolled her eyes, raking her fingers through her hair trying to tame it a little.
Irene turned to her papa, "But papa, we have no business doing in a place like Birmingham. Our place is here in London, send Robert to do the expansion." Robert upon hearing this sent a glare to his sister, with a kick in the foot. They never truly grow up these aristocrats.
"I'm afraid it's not that simple, darling. You see, i have a very specific business with a certain young friend. Goes by the name of Thomas Shelby." Irene's head perked up at the name.
She had heard that name before, among her circle of aristocrats. They were talking about him in hushed voices, as if the man they talked about were there. Thomas Shelby runs a gang in Birmingham, called the Peaky Blinders with his Romani-blood family. Said that he was one of the top business rivals Irene's papa has, she was quite impressed. Takes a lot of brains and balls to match her papa's level of business.
Nevertheless, the man was a mystery, Irene didn't even know what he looked like. Some would say he was descended from a gypsy witch with red eyes like a stag's blood—she would laugh at this one, some would say he used witchcraft to climb his way to where he is now—also seemed far fetched. One of the talking aristocrat even went as far by saying that his late wife was an Irish harlot on the run.
Which is what, Irene never knew. All she knew was that, it's dangerous to befriend the likes of Thomas Shelby.
"Well, papa, my main concern is that our friends had made a commitment of wanting to live with us starting this year. It's sort of like us all girls living in one house together, i heard people do that in America." Isabelle pointed out, eating her berries. Irene nodded solemnly.
"You mentioned that. Do you think i'm going to let you six girls live all alone in a big grand house while a business expansion is going and all the men are gone? Certainly not."
"Papa, it's truly fine we-"
"I have no doubt in women, nor have i depict them as lower or weaker than men. But please, girls, you do remember the last time me and your brother made the mistake of leaving women alone is the house during a business expansion-"
Papa is talking about Mama, and how she died when he went away. That happened eight years ago.
"-So, i have took the liberty of calling up all of my old friends, the fathers of you friends, to ask them to let your dear friends live with us at Eaton Hall as ... fosters of the Grosvenor. And of course, they agreed. Considering the age of my friendship with theirs, i have considered your friends my daughters as well."
"And besides, you all have very important roles in my empire, and equal major shareholders in the company. This is something major shareholders won't miss."
The three girls seems to be in a deep thought. All of what their papa has said makes sense and seems to be convincing. They just hate the idea of leaving the grandeur of London, where most of their circle are. Daughters of duchesses like them, marchionesses, court ladies, have made London the hub for the upper crusts. But this is her father specifically asking, Irene is weak when it comes to her family. The oldest daughter of the Duke of Westminster felt all of this is thrusted upon her and her sister so suddenly. "Alright papa, we'll come with you. But do know this, it is with our heaviest hearts to do so."
"I know darling, i know. And i apologise, i feel terrible, really i do. How about this? I'll give you more allowance on top of what you've already received as major shareholders." Hugh Grosvenor knew just the right way to entice his daughters. Their ears perked up as if a dog's would. They all smiled, Imogen feigned a hand on her chest, "We would like that very much, sir, yes."
All of them shared a laugh.
"Oh, and girls, please try to pack light."
The girls snickered, "Oh papa, have we ever known to pack light?"