VICES AND VIRTUES | Thomas Shelby

FOURTEEN

make sure to read thirteen before this!

SEVERAL MONTHS LATER
"What do you suppose, darling?" Elijah asked Florence as they stood with the decorator in the room that was set to be the baby's nursery in just a couple of months, "What colour would you like the walls to be?"

"Something neutral," Florence smiled, resting her hand on her bump, "A pale yellow would look lovely, given how much natural light this room gets."

"And for the furniture, do you have a preference on wood?" The decorator asked, a question she never imagined having to fathom, given that she spent the first three months of her life sleeping in a drawer lined with blankets.

"Something light also," Florence smiled as she approached the window, "It'll be winter by the time the baby is here, I don't want it to feel too dull in here."

"Very good, my lady," The decorator nodded, "I'll get back to my workshop and start working on the designs and I'll liaise with some good carpenters I know."

"That's great, thank you Mr Potts," Elijah nodded, "Please have one of the maids show you out."

"Good day to you both," Mr Potts smiled before leaving the room.

"I doubt I'll ever get used to this life," Florence sighed as she rested her hands on her hips, with little understanding of how the baby inside of her could possibly have another two months of growing to do, "It still feels odd that they call me Mrs Harrington."

"It'll be second nature in time," Elijah assured her, aware of how difficult she had found it to adjust to a life of being waited on by staff daily, "Besides, the fussing will only get worse when the baby arrives."

Despite her faith in Elijah, Florence had feared that he would wake up one morning, regretting his decision to marry her and father her child conceived out of wedlock. But that day was yet to come, and with every day that passed, Florence doubted whether it ever would.

Elijah was already playing the part of the doting father exceptionally well. He would be out at work most of the day, but when he returned he would join Florence for dinner prepared by the chef. Once they'd eaten they'd find themselves in the drawing room or the bedroom, where Elijah would talk away to Florence's bump, while the pair wondered whether the words could even be heard.

Despite their relationship being a societal facade the pair knew that the maids were likely to gossip, so they agreed to share a bed to prevent their relationship coming under public speculation. They had done a good job in the four months that followed their wedding, people who met the couple were keen to comment how in love they seemed and how much of a proud father Elijah would be.

"Do you think people believe us?" Florence asked, holding on to her baby bump.

"I don't think we'd still be living in this house if people doubted us," Elijah answered, "Gossip travels and my parents would have staged an intervention by now."

"Your mother does love to visit, it's like she just always knows when you've left for work and there she is checking up on me," Florence replied in frustration, "Yesterday she turned up and she spent the entire time telling me how she raised you and George."

"I hate to say it, but it'll only get worse once the baby's here," Elijah warned her, knowing how much joy his mother would find in controlling such a situation.

"She's already contacted the nanny who looked after you and George when you were babies, she's aware that where I come from we raise our children ourselves?" Florence explained, having felt blindsided by Margaret's efforts to involve herself in the arrival of her grandchild, still clueless that there is no biological link between them.