Chapter Text
Shelby Household Manor
The Servant
—1—
Working at the manor was a surprise. The boy himself never imagined he would be taken seriously, specially regarding the job he was meant for; it felt almost like a joke, a silly trick to play the part. So, being hired as a butler for the feared head of the Shelby family was honest to God shocking and terrifying.
The wide windows and open corridors left him in awe as well as the beauty of the barn and the well-kept animals. It was known mister Shelby liked to ride early in the mornings or late past midnight under the deep pitch-black winter.
The first time the servant saw him, mr. Shelby came back to the manor, his steps maintained his powerful stance even when no one was around to see. Charlie’s nanny had been looking for him as the baby kept calling for the man after waking up and while technically being his job to find him, after all those past weeks, he had no idea where the man could possibly be.
Soon, he hurried to greet mr. Shelby by the doors with a sharp nod.
“Charlie has asked for you, mr. Shelby.” The man merely looked with a glint of recognition before storming to find his son.
Later on, he seemed to find little flashes of the head of the house.
Some of them were good. Some of them not so much.
—2—
Hearing the man argue with his aunt was nothing new and still impressive. As he worked in the house, talked to the remain help around it, the cook and the nanny; they all said mr. Shelby was a kept man, stoic and impassive. With a piercing stare that imitated the freezing winter he much so seemed to loathe.
Some said his glacially sight would melt only in presence of his son. Charlie was the light of his eyes, a beacon in the stormy sea guiding him home the nights his memories sinked him deep and low. Mister Shelby may not hear the resonance of the picks and shovels anymore but still saw them in his sleep.
The always compose man had a frown on his face, his lips on a thin line only sharing his distaste for the conversation and stating a couple of orders to the other side of the phone, Thomas Shelby hang up with a soundless huff and placed his hand near his eyebrow to ease the increasing nagging pain growing at the back of his head.
They never got any peace. No one of his family ever got peace.
The servant moved seamlessly in the room, took the empty glasses and spared a glance at the half full liquor sitting the the bottle by the table at the other side.
“Your glasses, mister Shelby,” Having the absolute attention of a man such as Shelby was unnerving, nerve-wracking and worrying and at the same time, heated adrenaline and embarrassment made their way to the boy’s cheeks. A young face taintless of horror and despair.
He left the glasses for the man to hold on top of his desk and took his leave.
Mister Shelby often forgot the use of his reading glasses as he called them, and soon started to orchestrated a massive migraine that left him moody for hours.
The servant shortly after discovered keeping a spare of glasses in the office would do magic for him and mostly salvaged whatever was left of his eye-sight. That man surely liked to be left alone in the dark.
Mr. Shelby accepted the pair of glasses in silent and soon after, lighted up a new cigarette.
“Dinner will be served promptly, sir.” The boy assured his master even knowingly of being ignored, all those years, he have seen the man work, climb, celebrate, scream and even fuck passing walks of beautiful women, but barely were able to make him eat anything. Not even with his son besides him. He had used the pretense of Charlie when the boy was feeling lonely and missed both father and mother; only then mister Shelby seemed to reach for his boy and comfort him.
But for that night it didn’t feel like that strategy would work.
“I won’t be there.” Thomas let him know. “However, you are all free to dine outside the kitchen.” The surprise was cleared in the boy’s eyes, it was such an honor to eat at the table of the family and doing so without the head of said family felt wrong. The young one was about to deny his orders when a piercing cold stared advised him otherwise. “You may tell the others.”
“Yes, mister Shelby.”
Dinning at the large table was surreal. The nanny, the cook, one of the maids and him were sitting in display, all surrounding little Charlie who talked and ate happily commenting on how good the supper was for the day. The growing Shelby told stories about his horse, his ridding lessons and even his violin recital that was yet to come. Charlie wished he could invited them all.
He smiled warmly at the boy sharing the overwhelming sense of care as the other servants of the house, they all loved Charlie.
“You will be wonderful, Charlie.” The nanny mentioned.
“And you can always play for us if you want.” Commented the cook with short courage.
“We will always listen.” He said and retreated after dinner.
Hours late into midnight, the servant was wandering around from the kitchen, the halls were lonely and quiet, candles around created shadows that guide him and about to head to bed he was when he first heard it.
Low, quiet, meek whispering, hushed breaths and silent prayers came from the office. A rush of fear traveled down his spine, fear of someone being inside the house, but shortly after unlocking the door he realized it was only mister Shelby.
The man was resting on the sofa, his coat was hanged on his side and his shoes were neatly placed far from it. Mister Shelby’s features were obscured with memories and ghosts, sweat formed on his forehead as his arms flexed in anger. The boy knelt on the carpet and touched the man heated skin trying to wake him up.
The response was almost immediately. Muster Shelby rose up in a second, smoothly reached under his arm and pointed a gun at the servants head.
The distinguished click of the safe being taken off fired up his heart, the boy could hear it running wild in his ears but he stood tall and still, no sign of breathing until Mister Shelby’s gaze focused on him.
A pair of glazing blue, cold and piercing dilated pupils engraved with long soft looking lashes. Looked down on him leaving him frozen on the spot. Mister Shelby didn’t seem to even blink, placing his eyes on the boy, searching for answers to questions in a wicked curiosity; the man knew what the others thought of him, some feared him, some loved him —and he was strictly thinking about him family and having doubts—, and some other definitely hated him, loathed him and despised him. Even himself, in the deeps of night he would wake up with the sinking feeling of abhor for his persona.
But at that time, pointing a gun at one of his servants who still looked at his eyes and not the machine capable of killing them, Thomas felt curious for the boy. Shelby released the safe into its rightful place albeit never taking the gun down.
“What are you doing here?” The boy gradually started to retreat his hands and left them resting on his thighs.
“You were speaking, sir. Talking in your sleep.” A pregnant silence followed that statement and the younger one feared first time while staying in the manor that he would be hurt in any way. Thomas nodded to himself and lower the gun brushing it slightly to the boy’s face. An innocent touch on his nose to finally rest on his parted lips. The cold feeling of the metal combined with the fleeting smell of powder stirred something within the servant’s blood making him blushed in a fading shade of red.
All under the watchful eye of the crime Lord.
A lick of something wickedly dark sparkled his brain to force the boy near the gun one last time by roughly grasping at the back of his head.
“Do you want to die, Little one?” The warmth pouring from the man’s voice was numbing enough to leave his throat dry.
“No, sir.” The servant was unable to free himself, not out of absolute fear. He knew who Shelby was, he knew who his boss was, he also knew all the stories about the Peaky Blinders, so, no. He didn’t fear his boss out of his reputation. He feared being disrespectful at any capacity and not being good enough to the man’s eyes.
“Alright.” At last, Tom left him go although the boy didn’t move. He had a feeling mister Shelby wasn’t doing alright, then again, nobody not eating and not sleeping would be ok in any circumstances. So instead of leaving his boss alone, he stayed. Silently asking for the gun with both palms bare.
Thomas interest was peaked as he pleased the boy silent request and slowly after was surprised by the skilled hands that disarmed every bullet smoothly and placed them at Thomas’s feet.
“How do you know how to use it?” Shelby spoke rough and easy aching to have a cigarette on his lips. The boy stood with care and wobbly legs, went to man’s desk and searched for the item his master needed. Mr. Shelby rose up an eyebrow but either way accepted the cigar and the warmth that followed.
“My Father.” He simply stated. It was no mystery the tells of war and how many families had been torn apart from it. He, himself was about to be shipped away from his crying mother when news broke and thousands of soldiers were send back. He had been a tad too young to be part of it, but was old enough to recognize the signs and tells from it. He could never know what horrors had mister Shelby seen on those lands and he could only imagine. So he told him much.
“It’s better that you’ll never know.” Thomas groaned as the smoke blurred his face to the boy’s eyes and led him to bed. “Good night, little one.” With an unfamiliar sweetness Tommy left a heavy hand rest on the boy’s soft hair with a brush of warmth forgotten by the time he sat back on his desk.
“Good night, mister Shelby.” After months of work and sunny days, the servant felt courage to shyly smile at the man before disappearing behind the door.