Double Trouble (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
oohforeshadowing) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
wondrousplace2023-03-22 07:25 pm
oohforeshadowing) wrote in wondrousplace2023-03-22 07:25 pm
olden times for Tommy
The great country pile isn't their speed, really.
Double had their lovely house in London, bought and paid for by their adoptive father - a High Fae of some high regard, who'd been fretting about their lands and accounts falling into strangers' hands when he passed on. It was a heartrending story, of course, and Double was...well, positively delighted to be anything the old man wanted them to be. For the right price.
Shapeshifters have long since had a bad reputation for sliding into the upper echelons this way. They hadn't been in penury to begin with, by any means, but 'lovely house in London' money and 'vast estates with mining wealth and hundreds of rate-paying tenants' money is not the same by some order of magnitude.
The old man died peacefully in his bed, well over a century old, and left the manor house and everything that went with it to their sole heir. Who is going to sell it all, eventually, but it feels tasteless not to even let their 'father's' body grow cold.
They move in after the last of their furniture has been transported, and lets the housekeeper give them the tour. They cut quite the figure: long blond hair pinned up in curls, a jacket and blouse tailored tightly to a corseted waist, the snug high-waisted breeches favoured by most males. Their tail is the most exposed part of them and the woman they're following keeps eyeing it like she's not sure if it's obscene or not.
"...show you the stables, your grace," she says, as she walks ahead to the outbuildings.
"Ah. I suppose we ought."
Double had their lovely house in London, bought and paid for by their adoptive father - a High Fae of some high regard, who'd been fretting about their lands and accounts falling into strangers' hands when he passed on. It was a heartrending story, of course, and Double was...well, positively delighted to be anything the old man wanted them to be. For the right price.
Shapeshifters have long since had a bad reputation for sliding into the upper echelons this way. They hadn't been in penury to begin with, by any means, but 'lovely house in London' money and 'vast estates with mining wealth and hundreds of rate-paying tenants' money is not the same by some order of magnitude.
The old man died peacefully in his bed, well over a century old, and left the manor house and everything that went with it to their sole heir. Who is going to sell it all, eventually, but it feels tasteless not to even let their 'father's' body grow cold.
They move in after the last of their furniture has been transported, and lets the housekeeper give them the tour. They cut quite the figure: long blond hair pinned up in curls, a jacket and blouse tailored tightly to a corseted waist, the snug high-waisted breeches favoured by most males. Their tail is the most exposed part of them and the woman they're following keeps eyeing it like she's not sure if it's obscene or not.
"...show you the stables, your grace," she says, as she walks ahead to the outbuildings.
"Ah. I suppose we ought."
no subject
Thomas has been with the estate for almost a decade, now. Initially it wasn't by much choice, but by now he's used to the place. He didn't mind the former owner, and he's on good terms with the overseer who runs it when the master isn't around. They all know he's the best man for the horses, and the former owner loved horses - which spoke for him, at least. When Tommy just got here he was over often enough to frequently request a horse, and he'd ride the grounds, hair streaming behind him as he gallopped.
Now, he doesn't know what to expect. He's heard the craziest stories doing the rounds - more Fae taking over, a group of them, or someone young who's planning to just have parties in the country home. Maybe someone planning to sell it off. Maybe it's someone who's going to lay everyone here off, and replace all of them with their own staff.
Tommy's decided to keep his head down and do his job. If he's still the best at what he does, his chances of staying are much better. He's mucking out the stables when he hears the house staff, and he leans up on his pitchfork to see who it is. He smells, his knee-high boots are dirty, his grey shirt is littered with hay and horse hair. He's here to work the horses, not look good, and he hopes the newcomer sees that. Fae never like it when humans are too attractive, and with his striking eyes, dark hair and high cheekbones he's often caught the brunt of Fae vanity.
no subject
Double, on the other hand, does not judge by looks at all. Not just because of their own, alien even by most supernatural standards, but because they know exactly how deceptive appearances can be.
The scent of horses and excrement is noticeable but not at all unfamiliar. London was so busy with riders and carriages that most streets smelt like no better than this, honestly. Horses themselves make Double feel...slightly nervous. They know it's somewhat ridiculous. An animal several times your size steps on your tail once, and then you panic, and then it panics...
It hadn't been a good afternoon. But it was years ago, and they've grown decent at masking their anxieties.
"Shelby!" the housekeeper calls. "Try and make yourself a bit more presentable, would you?"
Double says nothing at her side, eyes luminous and watchful.
no subject
He clears his throat and puts the pitchfork to the side, buttoning up his shirt, putting the suspenders back up over his shoulder. Somewhere - ah, there, on a peg is where he left his jacket. He even has a hat, which he puts on before he steps forward.
He doesn't really enjoy taking orders, but he enjoys making a living. He steps forward, wipes his hands on his dark trousers and nods at the stranger.
Interesting. A shifter, he's sure - he saw one in town once, but never talked to one. Not so many of them around these parts. "Apologies, ma'am. I wasn't aware we were expecting company."
no subject
"No offence taken," Double trillls, before the housekeeper - May? Marie? Marjoram? Her name escapes them - can say anything.
They step forward, heeled boots confident on the stone slabs, getting right on the boundary of his personal space. Behind them, Mary (?) looks slightly affronted by this absence of protocol, but what could she say?
"You must be the one responsible for the care and feeding of these delightful creatures. My father, may the spirits guard him, he did so often mention how much he loved his horses. Shelby, did you say?"
no subject
Tommy glances at Madelyn behind her, then looks back at the newcomer. She obviously can't say anything, and Tommy obviously can't step back and protect his personal space. He didn't become a stablemaster because he likes other people so much. But he's also very human and this person is obviously not. There's a time and place.
"Shelby," he agrees. "Thomas Shelby. My apologies - your father? He never spoke of a child."
His deepest apologies about the confusion, of course.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
no subject
They spent a very nice afternoon together, and after dropping DT back off at the manor tommy goes back to his own cottage, cleans up, finishes his work, cleans up again - and then has a very nice night's sleep indeed.
They don't see much for each other for a few weeks, until the new owner of the manor orders a carriage to be taken into the nearest city that has a carriage maker. They want something new and flashy - and they want Tommy to join them, obviously. He seems to have so many ideas about what they'd need, after all.
They take a buggy, and so they can do with just the two of them and two horses. Tommy's wearing a good suit, since they're going into town and he has to be a representation of the family. He meets them at the front door with the buggy, holding out a hand to help them ascend.
no subject
In that time, Double has been keeping themself busy. Visiting with tenants, receiving guests, making tentative moves to continue the survey of their land for coal. The steward seemed at first a little bewildered that the new Duke hadn't returned to London almost immediately, and then more still that they want to be involved - but he seems to have adjusted. Indeed, Double has a stronger head for numbers and a more pragmatic financial sense than their father.
Their time in the hunting hide with the stablemaster becomes a fond daydream, but it was not intended to be a one-off. And needing to replace the household coach with a better, newer design is as good an excuse as any to sweep Thomas away into the city.
He looks very handsome in his good suit. They're in breeches today, as well, paired with a ladies' bodice and high-collared blouse under a draping paisley shawl. (Their tail is completely exposed, their outfit tailored around it.)
"A fine morning to you, Mr Shelby," they say, terribly courteous, eyes glittering as they take his hand.
no subject
"Good morning, Your Grace," he says lightly, helping them up before closing their side of the buggy off with a little door and making his way over to his own side.
"You look ready for a day in the city, if I might say so."
Good. They look good. But saying even this is a little daring in their household.
no subject
"As do you," they say, getting comfortable on the padded seat alongside the one Tommy takes up himself. "And the new horses are very handsome, not that I'm an expert."
No expense was spared, and the two new animals harnessed to the buggy are young, strong and in fine health.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
no subject
A little time goes by. The carriage and buggy are delivered. Double celebrates by dragging Tommy into the carriage, pressing him down into the upholstery and demonstrating that shapeshifters have extremely agile tongues and no gag reflex. They also pass a few afternoons learning how to - literally, on a horse - ride. Going solo is still a long way off and they haven't yet explained the exact source of their anxiety, but Thomas is a clever man and they don't doubt he could guess by now.
The autumn gets colder and wetter as the weeks wear on. Continuing work on the mining survey is made more difficult - first by the weather, then by a number of 'concerned neighbours'. Well-established, older Realmsfolk landowners who do not care for this human industry on their collective doorsteps. Double politely informs them that their 'advice' will be taken under consideration.
A week later, Tommy will be the first to learn during a ride that the survey tunnels have utterly collapsed - without casualties, but taking with it several months of work.
no subject
No one from the estate is around - just the workers, who have come up distraught and angry, and the overseer who's fuming. He heads over to inquire, finds out what's going on, and realizes with a sinking feeling that he's going to be the best one to break the news. He tells the man as much, and he tells Tommy to not lead with the suspicion that it was a targeted attack - landowners, Realmers jealous or irritated by all the racket or possible profit. Realmers stick with each other, and not with humans, after all.
Tommy takes it under advice, and heads back to the Estate. He heads up through the downstairs kitchens, asking one of the maids if they'll fetch Their Grace - the maid fetches someone, who fetches someone else, who fetches Double, and by the time they're found Tommy's gotten and finished a cup of tea.
no subject
By the time it gets to Their Grace, the actual facts of the matter have been completely drained from a rather unhelpful report of Mister Shelby bringing 'bad news'. Double leaves their correspondence in the study and asks that he be called on to join them in the library, a large and pleasantly airy space in one corner of the house.
Thomas is duly delivered upstairs, along with a coffee service - the kitchen staff have found that Double is extremely fond of the drink. They're wearing a long pale dress, belted at the waist, their hair in a loose braid.
"Thomas," they say, bare moments after the door closes. "What's happened? Are you all right?"
no subject
"Ah." He's not really at peace here, in his clothes that somehow so much more obviously smell like horse, his dirty boots, all the riches he rather resents anyone having. He tries to relax, but this isn't his kind of place to talk, unfortunately.
"Some of the survey tunnels just collapsed, not an hour ago. I was out riding and came upon the scene. The overseer was very unhappy."
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
no subject
Despite Tommy's best intentions, he ends up visiting them in their quarters again a few times. It's bigger than his own cottage, it's comfortable, they have hot water. But they also see each other on the grounds - honestly, they meet a few times a week, and Tommy finds himself wanting to see them again when they haven't for a few days.
He chalks it up to horniness. They just like to fuck, he tells himself, and they're so compatible in the bedroom. That's all.
This week they haven't seen much of each other. There's a fair in the village, with all sorts of celebrations. The staff are given an extra day off to enjoy the festivities, and everyone gets drunk and dances and wins silly prizes. And Tommy comes back early on the last day, when they're supposed to be enjoying the fireworks a group of travellers put on at the end of the feast. He gets to mucking out the stables quite aggressively, and since there's no one else there his presence is obvious.
no subject
Double does not attend, of course. It's a human festival entrenched in human culture, and Realmsfolk are meant to be above that sort of thing. Furthermore, the whole point of these events is to let people let their hair down, and that's complicated by the presence of whoever you're tying it up for.
It's an unusually warm afternoon, for spring, and they have the windows open in the library while they read. It's because of this that they hear the clatter of hooves outside, the opening and closing of broad stable doors.
There's nobody else around. It's as good as an invitation.
They place a marker in their book and head outside.
no subject
He's got his sleeves rolled up, his waistcoat and jacket flung over a fence. His normal shoes, too, are put away in favor of knee-high boots to protect his trousers. He looks angry, he looks frustrated, and he's working hard enough that he doesn't really hear them coming.
no subject
Double is an observer, of course. They watch people, they read their bodies, they shape their own characters through imitation and synthesis. But they don't need any of that to see from a distance how worked up Thomas is.
Maybe he needs to be alone? But he's a grownup, and he knows Double respects him. If he wants solitude, he'll ask for it.
"...You're back early," they observe, quietly, from the door.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
no subject
It turns out that it's not that difficult to find a theatre which is struggling to scrape together enough funding to put on a show, particularly outside London. Despite having many well-established venues which reliably attract healthy audiences, Birmingham is simply not looked upon as favourably as the capital.
Also, A Midsummer Night's Dream has become an odd cultural relic. First performed mere weeks before the veil between Realms was well and truly torn, a story of Fae royalty using humans' humiliation and deception for their own amusement was so oddly prescient that Shakespeare was almost executed as an enemy agent. It's still performed, but companies are very conscious of the Realmers in their audiences and very careful not to make Titania seem too foolish, or Oberon too arrogant. A little satirical jibing is all in good fun, and the Fae understand that the lower orders need some pressure valves - but there are limits.
The offer made by a friendly shapeshifter with cash to spare and no interest in creative control, or indeed any involvement beyond sitting in on the occasional rehearsal, is accepted with cautious gratitude.
Who knows why Realmsfolk do anything, really.
Double rents a rather lovely apartment near the centre of the city, leaves Mr Lancer with a loose rein to do whatever he feels best for the upkeep of the estate, and allows a brief uplift in salary for the junior coachman while he's doing Thomas's job.
It's a long and rather grey journey, but the countryside is quite lovely as it passes.
no subject
Tommy likes long journeys. He looks at home on the box seat, reins loosely held in one hand as he smokes a few cigarettes during the long hours in the grey, damp weather. He hums and whistles, but doesn't sing. He finds himself mostly humming old songs from childhood, and tapping his foot.
The foot tapping is a little nervous gesture, maybe. Otherwise he's not letting on so much, apart from the fact that he wasn't really talkative when they left. He's thinking about what he might find in Birmingham. What he hopes to find, what he suspects, what he fears. Already he knows John won't be there to rile him up, and he's been trying to come to terms with that knowledge. Maybe the visit make it that much more real. That much more painful.
But there's the rest to see, and speak to. The opportunity to really talk, over the course of months.
His mind is going in circles. It's a good thing he does have to pay attention to the irregular road. When they're outside of the city he taps on the window to alert them.
"Almost there."
no subject
There's a small hatch between the coach interior and the front, to better allow the passengers to speak to the driver. Double has left it open only a crack for most of the journey, and only then for fresh air's sake. This is a momentous journey for Thomas and they don't want to distract him with their own idle prattle.
And they like to listen to him humming.
Now, though, they open it fully to better listen and be heard.
"Wonderful. We're heading to Spicer Lane, not far from the Bullring market - do you know it?"
no subject
"If the roads haven't changed too much, I know it," he agrees. He turns the carriage that way at the next crossroads.
"Is that the apartment, or the theatre?"
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
no subject
Double divides their time between their apartment, the house on Watery Lane - where they appear to have been more or less accepted by the Shelby family - and the theatre. The company of players have adjusted to the presence of the shifter at their rehearsals, and occasionally the director asks if they have any feedback. They always do. But they're not there to run the show, just to offer some small adjustments and encourage them to lean into the satire.
Alexandria and Hyperion's deaths are discovered, investigated, and judged to have been the murder-suicide they were staged as. Double is briefly questioned. Yes, they knew their cousins were in town; no, they didn't meet them.
Naturally, the siblings' estates will go to their closest living relative. Double writes to their solicitor and asks him to see about having it all sold off.
"The play premieres on Saturday night, darling," they report to Tommy over breakfast. "Will you come?"
no subject
Tommy doesn't really divide his time between anywhere. He has major ups and downs - some days he goes on long walks or heads into the city with Double, but he always makes it back to Small Heath for dinner and the night. Other days it's hard to get himself out of bed and out of his head. He frustrates himself to no end, doesn't understand why he can't do it but he just can't. On those days he asks everyone to just leave him alone, and usually he drags himself down for at least one meal.
It's a derpessive episode, but who has the words for something like that? Besides, it reminds him too much of his mother to think of himself as being in a spell. He's just had a hard time. He went through something difficult. He's allowed to sleep.
Still, there are good days, and that's what matters, he tells himself. Today, for example, feels good. He's up before dawn and eating breakfast with Double while the rest of the house is only barely waking up. He treasures these moments.
"I'll come," he says, in surprise. "I'm - glad you're asking me. Are you happy with how it's coming along?"
no subject
"Very much," they say happily. "The company is flourishing, you know? On stage and behind. Such talented people, so many ideas, and there's been so much talk of 'oh, we would love to do it this way, but we can't afford that. We don't have London money.'"
They smile broadly, teeth flashing.
"Well, they have now."
no subject
Their enthusiasm makes him smile as he picks up his teacup.
"So what have they done with your London money? Any tricks?"
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...