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"Do you think I should bring these Buccellati earrings from Lady Cunard?"
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Irene has always loved their home here in Mayfair. Smack dab in the centre of London, yet so out of the reach of people's hands. The Grosvenor House has always been her favourite among her family's vast real estate portfolio.
The townhouse was the largest in London; it represents what the Grosvenors possesses and known for. Wealth, status, and influence. The house itself represents the aristocracy's essence, with tall pillars, grand doors with golden knobs, high walls with no cripples whatsoever, and furniture flown from all corners of the earth - only the finest, of course.
Behind the palatial mansion lies the 500-acre vast greenery - a rare thing to possess here in London. Filled with only the rarest and most beautiful floras - Irene's late mother started planting them a few years before her demise, saying the estate "Lacks colour" and would "Bore someone to death".
And of course, her french-blooded heiress mother is always right.
Irene loved the gardens her mama started; she won't lie, the gardens look majestic and beautiful. Though she instead prefers what lies near the parks, the stables. Not the stables in particular, but what's inside it, her pride and joy.
The Grosvenor Households' stables only houses the finest breeds of horses, sometimes given to the family as gifts from aristocrats from around the world. Just last year, Irene and her siblings were given two sets of horses from their distant cousins in France, who went to visit at the Grosvenor House.
There were three Arabian horses and one thoroughbred. Robert, of course, was given the much more special breed of horse, a midnight-black thoroughbred. But Irene didn't mind, it was only horses. Besides, the Arabian mares were special as they came from Syria, one of the most esteemed Arabian horse breeders.
They were given one colour each; there were ginger, white, and cream coated horses. When Irene saw the fiery-ginger coloured mare, she picked her as soon as she could. Isabelle chose the cream mare, and Imogen, the youngest, got the white one.
But as Irene picked the ginger-coated mare, it seemed like she made a slightly terrible mistake. The horse was a wild, borderline outlaw. The horse wouldn't want to be ridden, touched; even a little pet seemed to upset her. Irene's siblings would snicker every time the horse rejects her, and she would glare at them for doing so.
So, Irene named the horse the only name she sees fit, Al Capone.
A name later, her family would raise their eyebrows at, but she didn't care. Irene didn't give up on Al either; she would see the horse early in the morning and late at night right before the daughter of the Duke heads to bed. She would give her tender pets and give her treats as if she were her own baby. The heiress didn't really know much about horses back then, but it seemed to work.
Al wasn't as wild as she was before, and now she was rideable and appears to be warming up only to the eldest daughter of the house. Al would be upset when meeting someone she doesn't know; even a new horse caretaker was once kicked by her ferociously.
When Irene went to see Al for the last time in the stables - before leaving tomorrow for Birmingham -, after the family consensus of going to Birmingham for a while, it seems someone had followed her. "So, are you just going to stand there in the shadows, papa?"
Her Papa came out with a puff of smoke from his Cuban cigar. "You caught me."
As Irene put on her riding boots, her Papa approached Al, staring at her maddeningly ginger coat, "You know, I've never understood why you named her after a notorious Italian gang leader in America."
"She was wild and untameable. It was the only name I saw fit." Irene shrugged, signalling the horse caretaker - one that Al was familiar with, of course. - to bring Al out and prepare her. Papa grabbed Irene's arm as she was about to follow, " I need to have a word with you. "
The brunette with astonishing brown eyes glances at her horse, about to be saddled up. "Alright, but hurry. I have to pack, you see, I haven't got all day to pack thanks to someone so adamant on moving to Birmingham as fast as we can."
The gentle jab was dismissed immediately by her Papa.
"So, this business with the Shelbys. It will be a dangerous one."
Irene perked a perfectly-shaped eyebrow.
Papa took another drag from his cigar, "It's a very crucial one, yes. And we need this expansion desperately, but I will admit, it will be perilous. I will not disclose the details with you right now, but I will, of course. When the time is to my liking."
Irene rolls her eyes, "And I'm guessing Robert already knew about these ... details of yours."
"Only the surface, yes."
"Papa, honestly, i-"
"Are you still afraid of the dark, my girl?" Papa searched for anything in her face.
Irene drew a sharp breath, "You know the answer to this."
Yes. Yes, one thousand times, yes. Irene Grosvenor is still afraid of the dark.
"I've never known the reason why you have this ... peculiarity since you don't seem to like to tell me the reason why you are afraid of it. But I'm only telling you this, my dear daughter, be careful with your fear."
Another puff of smoke came out of his mouth as Papa caressed her cheek, "As someone would definitely use it against you."
And with that, Irene was left alone in the stables. With her mind going bonkers with what her Papa had cryptically said.
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Irene didn't think much of her Papa's words after she went on a stroll through the little 'forest' behind the manor. That was the first reason she was simply having too much fun. The second reason was that her best friends - and soon to be housemates. However, Irene prefers Manormates-, Lady Anamarie, Lady Daphne, and Lady Tabitha have arrived with their baggage stacks.
Irene and her sisters immediately squealed in delight as soon as they saw the proud stature of their closest friends approaching the massive entrance, their Bentleys parked neatly in the front yard. Of course, the little reunion - which was a bit of a stretch since they all saw each other for a luncheon just last week - wouldn't be complete without all of them crushing each other in a group embrace.
Tabitha was the first to pull away; looking hurt, she said, "Birmingham, though?"
All of them grimaced; Isabelle pats Tabitha's arm, "We know, we're sorry ... But hey, Papa said that as soon as this expansion's over, we girls could go anywhere our heart's desire!"
Daphne then chimed in, with her usual cheerful demeanour, "Well, I think that this is a great chance for us to get a little bit of fresh new scenery. You know, being stuck for too long in London."
Irene has to disagree with Daphne, "Oh no, Daph. I love London too much and will never get tired of it."
"Well, at least we get to live at the lovely Eaton Hall. I, for one, love that manor with all my heart. Lovely scenery, big mansion, what's not to love? All are my favourite things on earth. I wouldn't trade it with anything in this world!" Ana threw her arms up in the air.
Papa poked his head out from his office, clearly aware that his loud foster kids have arrived. "I see you girls have graced our home with your boisterousness. As if my daughters aren't enough-"
Papa was interrupted by three twenty-six-year-old women crashing him into a hug. Irene and her sisters could only smile from afar, very aware of the father-daughter relationship between their Papa and best friends. After all, their mother and fathers were basically "siblings" with the Grosvenor's Duke and Duchess. "Brother from another mother and father." The Lords would say regarding their relationship with Hugh Grosvenor.
Papa chuckled with his trademark archaic laugh, "Alright, alright. I know you all missed me, but my bloody old lungs can't breath..."
"We missed you, Uncle Hugh," said Daphne, the other two nods along with her. Papa waved a hand, took a sip from - what seems to be - his whiskey, "Don't be ridiculous. You girls were here just last week!"
All the girls stood there, smiling as Papa looks at them one by one, "Well, what are you still doing here? Frozen like that. Go on, break a vase or something. I distinctly remember that you girls did not leave a single crystal in this house unbroken!"
All of the girls chuckled as they ushered each other out of Lord Grosvenor's presence, skipping along while doing so. The Lord shakes his head, clearly still confused how twenty-something-year-old women haven't yet grown up.
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"Do you think I should bring these Buccellati earrings from Lady Cunard?" Isabelle asked, showing off the blue sapphire. Now the girls are piled together in Irene's more-than-spacious-bedroom deciding which and what to bring. Irene was folding her array of fine clothes as she chimed, " Well, Izzy, those earrings worth more than the whole city of Birmingham combined but yeah, sure, you should bring them."
Daphne, Tabitha, and Anamarie snickered from the bed. Isabelle shot a glare in Irene's direction. "So Izzy, have you told your fiancé yet about our little adventure up north?"
Isabelle rolls her eyes, "As a matter of fact, yes, I have told Nicholas about our little transfer. And please, it's not like we're going too far north or something."
"And my darling Nicholas understands everything and wishes us good luck."
"God, I envy you. You're already betrothed, Isabelle. I mean, look at your older sister, she refused every man that has come to your doorstep for her hand in marriage, but at least someone's asking her. As for me, it seems like my father is the one turning down bachelors for me." Tabitha sighed dramatically, feigning a hand on her chest. Irene shot a glare in her direction.
"As if someone wants to be with you, Tabitha," Imogen mumbled. Soon after, a pillow came flying to her face.
"You bitch!" Laughed Tabitha. "In all seriousness, though, maybe Birmingham is a chance for us the repent ourselves. To compensate our sins for leaving so many men heartbroken when we were at La Rosey. Maybe, we'll find a guy or two ..."
Irene hates it when Tabitha's eyebrows start doing squiggly dances on her forehead. Suggesting something dirty is going on in the sun kiss skinned twenty-six-year-old. Daphne sat up, a pillow hugged in her arms, "I heard our papas talking the other day, talking something about the Peaky Blinders? Are they really acquaintances with that ... group?"
Irene shrugged, "Papa said there was a business with them. An expansion, he said."
But what business it was, Irene never knew. As she never knew that this expansion will lead to opening up old healing wounds, only to leave them bleeding again.