Content warnings can be found here

Chapter Five

Is it true, the words hissed in Peaches’ head, an endless stream of heedless malice, have you really been hiding Teddy Valance?

Every whore and fence and mumper she met along the way asked the same thing, catching her by the sleeve until she wanted to run and scream with it, because if they knew, then Sharp Rick knew, and Bully Jackson, and anyone else Teddy had crossed or borrowed from. She tried to hide her panic, to laugh it off, to let them know they’d get no damn confirmation from her.

She had always known she’d lose him. 

But he was your swell, weren’t he?

Yes, yes, he had been her swell, and it had been his money that had taken her off the game in the first place. She’d had to remind him of that, the day they’d thrown him out of his final lot of rooms, when Jackson’s boys had come for him. She’d said, "Well, I guess I owe you, don’t I?"

Peaches dug her nails into the palms of her hands and run through every foul word her favourite brother had taught her before he’d been press-ganged, and she’d skipped out of that pig-shit village for good. 

She had always, always known that she’d lose him.

But not to Sharp Rick. Not to Tangier, if one of them chose to make a complaint to a magistrate. She pushed her clogs faster through the muck, hoping she could reach him before they did, trying not to let the panic show on her face. Come on, Teddy, be gone. Be long gone.

She had always known that she would lose him.

The street door hung ajar, but then it always did. She shoved inside, past the bumpkin who was reassuring the trollop who lived downstairs that, “It was just a pistol misfiring. A mistake, madam,” and took the stairs two at a time. The door was unlocked, and she barged through it. 

And smelled the gunpowder.
 
In the doorway, Peaches stopped, and dropped her basket. 

There was blood on the floor, a long smear of it over by the fireplace, and other spatters, elsewhere. Teddy sat, slump headed in the only chair, his neck smeared with blood that had been half wiped away, his shirt crusted with it. 

Peaches pressed her teeth together to stop her doing anything so bloody stupid as screaming, and walked over to him. Walked, not rushed, half expecting Sharp Rick or one of those other bastards to jump out from behind the door and teach her what they did to people who tried to help those they were after. 

She was only a step away from him when she caught the reek of brandy. His chest was moving, at least. Tentative, she reached out a hand, touched his shoulder. He jolted awake with fearful eyes, but when he saw her, those blue eyes of softened, and he took her hand, squeezing, “Peaches.”

“Teddy, you bloody fool.” She couldn’t stop the tears, not any more. “What the fuck are you playing at now?”

“Sharp Rick,” he said. “Decided I owed him interest. Someone... must have told him where I was lying low.”

“Yeah, well, it’s all over town, Teddy. You can’t stay here. We can’t stay here. Did they...?”

He tilted his head and showed her the cut, but his ear was still attached to his stupid head. 

“Dandy Pete?”

“He won’t be taking his knife to anyone soon.”

Oh, the blessed fucking fool. “Teddy, you didn’t.”

“What if I did?”

She balled up her fists, fit to punch him. The problem with swells was they didn’t understand how things worked. If Teddy had marked Dandy Pete, then they were finished, both of them. There was nowhere in England you could hide from Sharp Rick, not if he put his mind to it.

“Here,” he said, and held out a flask. 

Brandy. “Where did you get this?”

“It wasn’t me that winged Dandy Pete. That was another chap. I pawned my guns, remember?”

“Wing?” and then she remembered the smell of powder in the room, remembered that bloody yokel on the stairs, blithering about a pistol misfiring. “Right, Teddy, you tell me what the merry hell has been going on.”

“Mmm,” said Teddy, in that sweet, foolish way of his, like everything in the world was a joke. “You’ll maybe want to have a sip from the flask first. And, er, bend the old knees.”

She grabbed the flask and swigged, walking over to the bed. The brandy was the good stuff, the kind he’d used to ply her with before his father cut off his allowance for the last time. Screwing the cap back on, she closed the flask into the palm of her hand. “Right. You’d better not hold back on me, Valance.”

He leaned back in the chair, his long, golden neck peeping through where his stock had been mishandled. “The boat came in, Peaches.”

“And the blimin’ cavalry, by the state of things. That ain’t an explanation, Teddy.”

 “You don’t need to worry. Look. You remember my Uncle Eddy?”
Well, it wasn’t as though they had met. 

“The one whose some kind of...” whatever it was called.

“An Earl. Yes. Well, the old codger’s dead.”

“And he left you money.”

“Sort of. You see, old thing, well... Let’s put it this way, poor Ned’s hopped the twig as well.”

“Which one?” She never could keep Teddy’s relations straight, too many titles, and only the two Christian names between them.

“Ned. His son. The Viscount Hartel.”

“Speak plain, Teddy.”

“It turns out that... well. What with them having gone the way of all flesh, it transpires that... Apparently, I’m the Earl of Forthenby. As of now. The ninth, I think. Or maybe the tenth. I don’t know if we’re counting Ned in the succession.”

She was suddenly very glad that she was sitting down. She unscrewed the cap of the flask and took another swig. When it had gone down, she said, “Pull the other one. It’s got bells.”

“No,” he said, as though he couldn’t credit it, either. “This is it, Peaches. No more popping all the moveables. No more wolves at the door. Forthenby. We’ve done it.”

She poured some more firewater down her throat. There was not enough brandy in France.

“Well, buck up, old girl. It’s not such dire news.” He paused. “Well, it’s a pity for poor Ned and his girl, of course, but...”

She forced herself to smile, “That’s great news, Teddy. I’m very pleased for you.”

“Sod me, Peaches.” 

He got up and walked over to her. He didn’t seem able to stand quite straight, one shoulder hooked up to guard his injured ear. The other side sloped low, more defeated than she had ever seen him. She wondered how much they had hurt him before... before whatever it was had happened. His feet dragged, his steps leagues away from the dancer’s gait he usually had. But when he reached her, he didn’t throw himself down, as anyone else would have done. No. He leaned down and stroked her cheek, touched a stray curl of her hair. Peaches’ chest ached.
 
She had always known she would lose him. 

“This is for you,” he said. “I mean it. Whatever you want. Carriages, pearls, gowns. Everything you deserve. French wine, better brandy than...”

She slapped him. “You fucking idiot.”

He fell back half a step, stumbled, and landed on the ground as though that last blow had done for him. There was a palm print on his cheek, perfect and pink. He gave her a look of total, innocent hurt.

She had known. Always. 

“What...?” he said. And, “Peaches...?”

Because he didn’t know. He honestly couldn’t work it out. 

All the other swells had treated the girls like fillies, as though they mattered less than their bloody dogs, but not her Teddy. No. He’d spoken to everyone with the same wide eyed, playful irreverence: grooms and whores, pot-boys and his wild, stupid friends. The swells had mocked him for it, and the other girls had laughed at him, taken his gold and played him for a fool. Peaches had done the same, too, because she didn’t want it put about that she was sweet on him.

But what could be more like Teddy? Kind, and quick, and worldly, with not one single ounce of common sense.

“How could you? How can you rattle on that same old bollocks?”

“But I mean it,” he said. “I’d always... I always meant it, Peaches. When the boat came in, I -”

“You think I ever listened to that damn fool prattle of yours? You think I want bloody pearls for my hair and Paris perfumes and nights at the Opera?”

“Well...” said Teddy, but she wasn’t having that.

“And how do you think I’ll look? How do you think I’ll sound among all them fine ladies, eh, Teddy?”

“Nobody will give a damn. And if they dare say a bloody word, I’ll -”

“You’ll call them out.” 

He looked astonished that she’d guessed. 

“And that’s how you see your life, Earl Forthenby? With a smoking pistol in your hand all hours because someone insulted your moll again?”

“Strictly,” he said, “it’s Lord Forthenby, and you’d only fight a duel at,” but she raised her hand, and he flinched and shut his stupid, pretty mouth. “Besides, you wouldn’t be my ‘moll’, you’d be...”

“I’d be what? Your mistress? You think I even want that? I got a life here, Teddy. I got friends and work and customers and... You don’t just get to spring a damned inheritance on me and...” and she turned away to knuckle her eyes so he didn’t see her crying.

“Peaches,” he said, “Sweet, I... Look, I’m already on the ground, so if that’s what you want, I... Yes. Go on then.” He shifted to one knee, “Marry me. Let’s do that. In a heartbeat. We...”

“Just bleeding well stop it, Teddy.”

“I’m serious.”

“Oh, I can just see that. All your fine old pals having to bend the knee to Peaches the whore. And how are they going to take it up at Forthenby Castle, eh?”

“Hall,” said Teddy. “And  frankly, sod the whole bally lot of them. Marry me, Peaches. Be my Countess. You’ll do it splendidly. And if anyone looks at you askance, I’ll...”

“Put a ball in them.” She shook her head. “Yeah, that’s your answer to everything.” She’d seen the scars. “Oh, Teddy, stop playing the fool. You can’t marry me. You don’t even know my first name.”

He opened his mouth.

“Because it ain’t Peaches.”

“I wasn’t going to say that.”

She swore. 

“Peaches...” he said.

“I’ll miss you, Teddy.” She smiled at him and started to make escape plans, because when he was gone, Sharp Rick and Bully Jackson would be by wanting to make a point about what happened to a rag-tag whore who tried to get between them and their legitimate prey.

“No. No, dash it all, I’m not leaving you in this dive.”

“Oh, you thought it smart enough when I took you in.”

“I didn’t mean... No. I’m sorry. But you must see. You were there. When I was low, you were there. All those fine gentlemen I thought were my pals cut me dead, but you? No. Everything you had, you shared it half with me. So I shan’t be whisked off to-”

“To your own world, Teddy.”

“- to bloody Fartenby and the lap of luxury while you’re stuck here. Not if I can give you better than that. You always deserved the best, Peaches, and I can give it to you now. Look, I understand if you don’t want to leave your home, because...” He stopped. “No, wait,” he said. “No, hold on a blessed moment. I can’t leave you here. Sharp Rick and that lot are going to be after you now, aren’t they?”

She cursed. He was learning, too slow to help himself, of course, but fast enough to rip through her heart when she was all set on letting him go.

“It don’t matter.”

“Don’t bloody tell me what matters, Peaches.”

“Sorry, my Lord.”

“Peaches.” He actually looked wounded by it. And he was still on his knees.

“You can’t marry me,” she said.

“Alright, fine,” he said, faster than she wanted to hear it. “Not marriage then. But I can set you up, can’t I? Find you somewhere quiet and comfortable near Forthenby. Hedge would be able to think of somewhere suitable, and then...”

“Hedge?”

“Steward fellow. Cool as the proverbial. Put a ball in Dandy Pete for me.”

“And he’ll be happy to find somewhere to lodge your bit of tail, will he?”

“If he doesn’t like it, he can bloody well lump it. And do as he’s told, while he’s at it.”

She would not let the pain show on her face. Assurance came to him so easily. 

“No, Teddy. Use your brain. I know it don’t come natural, but try it this once. Is he really the kind you want to set against you before you even start at that place?”

“I suppose not.” Then, “But I’m not leaving you here, Peaches. Not if there’s trouble.” 

He pulled himself up and sat on the bed beside her, putting his arm around her in the way he always had, the way that made her feel small and beautiful and safe, even though it was her who looked out for him. He smelled of blood and alcohol, of dirt and panic and she leaned up against him, not wanting to lose him, knowing, knowing that she had always been going to lose him.