#fryeaway

The Hotel was on fire - of course it was - and Pearl was stalking the outside of it keeping her eyes peeled for the rest of her associates between worried glances at the thick blackness of the sky. The air was heavy with humidity, the night sky crowded with thick clouds, and it was only a matter of time for that rain to come down.  

The first heavy drops landed on her and soaked into her Muslin nightgown as Jacob swept her up into a fierce embrace.  Pearl gasped, and turned to him to get a better look at his clothes.  She realized, with a sudden punch of relief, that he hadn’t been in the hotel at all.  “Oh thank goodness.”  His lips met hers in a blistering kiss, filled with frenzied relief.

They pulled back, just long enough for them both to spill out “I’m so glad you and Wynert -”  The sentence hung between them, heavy with the sudden realization that their other man was missing.

“Is he still in the Hotel?”  Jacob looked up and scowled at the flames, clearly calculating his route to the American’s rooms.

“He must be, unless he sneaked out earlier.  He’s not with you?” 

Jacob responded with a shake of his head and pulled back, but paused a long moment with wide eyes fixed on her chest.  A moment later he dropped his Jacket onto her shoulders. “Stay dry.  Your nightgown -” He paused, clearly thought better of pointing out that the material was becoming quite clear and corrected to, “Don’t want you to get sick”  He grinned, then pressed a soft kiss to Pearl’s lips and stroked her cheek before stepping back and racing to the building.

Jacob doubts that being domesticated is something he will ever get used to, it’s a completely foreign feeling to not go out scrapping in the more rowdy pubs of Whitechapel, wearing scratchy, worn clothes and returning to the train in the wee hours of the morning with bloody, dirty knuckles, cold coin in his pockets and cheap beer running through his veins. Crystal decanters filled with fine brandy, soft silk and wool caressing his clean skin and now a kept man, any expenses he needed covered by his beautiful wife. Jacob still has no idea what he did to get so lucky to convince someone as beautiful, charming and intelligent as Pearl Attaway to marry him, honestly he expected her to be put off by his bumbling, country bumpkin nature off-putting not the charm he tried to exude around her. There was just something about Pearl that had him tripping over both his tongue and his feet, it was just his good fortune that she wanted a ‘sweet, honest puppy’ as she put it. Jacob supposes that it was a compliment considering how things were now.

Lazing about in bed still causes Jacob to squirm uncomfortably, unused to not just rising off whatever flat surface he had made a bed that previous night, certainly nothing as soft and warm as Pearl’s. A slim, pale hand lashes out and slaps Jacob on his chest, startling him out of his wiggling.

“You’re making me queasy.” Pearl grumbles, one sleepy blue eye visible from under a wild mane of ash brown hair.

“Sorry.” Jacob mutters sheepishly, carding his fingers through her hair, pulling it off her face and tucking it behind her ears. “How’s junior?” He asks, reaching down and rubbing the taut skin of Pearl’s stomach with the rough palm of his hand.

“Imitating you already.” She sighs, placing her hand on top of his and lacing her butter soft fingers with his, the small ring he gave her glinting in the low light. Nothing like the jewels usually adorning Pearl’s dainty fingers, but any offers of getting a better one fell on deaf ears, she never had been ashamed of being seen with him.

Jacob doesn’t even try to fight the proud grin blossoming over his face as the tiny feet of the babe kick against its father’s palm, not even when Pearl sits up with an exaggerated pout on her face.

“I’m uncomfortable, Jacob!”

With a soft snort Jacob, gently coaxes Pearl to lie back down, the doctor having warned him of the consequences of Pearl getting overexcited, making it easier on her by running his fingers through her hair. Like a fussy cat Pearl eventually relaxes, practically purring as he braids her hair for her, twisting the braid up and off the hot skin of her nape. Pearl yawns quietly, the back of her hand covering her mouth as she wiggles in his arms, grabbing on of his and holding it around her, just above the swell of her stomach. Jacob able to feel as the kicks slow and then stop altogether.

“Feeling better now small Frye’s calmed down?”

Pearl huffs. “Attaway, their name will be Attaway, Jacob.”

“Not much of a name for a boy though is it?”

“I don’t care, boy or girl they will be Attaway, how else will an Attaway run my business?”

“They’ll, um, look like you?” Jacob asks lamely, Pearl laughing at his pinched expression, only hoping the baby won’t hate him for giving in to their mother and ‘letting’ her name them Attaway Frye.

“You’re ridiculous! I don’t know how I ever put up with you.” Pearl grins, chin tilted up to look him in the eye.

“Cause I’m cute, I believe you said. All the charm of an excited puppy.”

Pearl grips the back of his neck, nails biting in as she bends Jacob practically in half, pale pink lips puckering and capturing his in a chaste kiss. Pulling back and licking her lips, Pearl nudges her nose against his. “Sounds like me, Mr. Frye.”

“Mr. Frye? Why so formal Pearl?” Jacob asks but Pearl doesn’t answer, just starting up at him, blue eyes unblinking.

Her lips redden, as if she had just bitten them, her voice caressing the syllables of his name in her deep voice. “Mr. Frye… Mr. Frye?”

Jacob’s brow furrows in confusion as Pearl’s voice warps and changes, taking on the accent of a lower class woman than the accent of a high born. Jacob screws his eyes shut, scrubbing his free hand over his face and shaking his head to clear his thoughts.

“Mr. Frye!” The voice shouts and Jacob eyes snap open, pure, unadulterated horror lighting up his dark eyes.

No…

Pearl is lying in his lap, belly no longer swollen with child, her nightdress replaced with her customary purple dress, splattered with blood. Her eyes dull and unseeing, staring up at him accusingly as the slit in her graceful throat tells of the true tale. A hidden blade, his hidden blade has done this, his leather clad hands slippery with her blood. He remembers now, the acrid stench of her blood and the shards of glass littering the floor of the wagon bringing it into the forefront of his mind. He killed Pearl, his lustrous gem of the sea, he stripped her of everything that made her so alluring and perfect.

Dear God, what has he done? Acting without forethought, without taking even a single moment to think, to consider what he was doing. She wasn’t afraid to die, only holding onto him in her final moments, gasping softly as her neck wept heavy streams of blood, staining her soft pale skin and clothes a deep red. At least she didn’t suffer, he cared enough for her to ensure that at least but that is of little comfort to Jacob now. He can’t undo what he has done; can’t will the slit closed, the blood back into her veins and life back in her eyes.

Looking up at the Rook standing awkwardly above him, Jacob shifts Pearl in his arms, picking her up and placing her as gently as he can on her wood desk, righting her clothes and hair as best he can. No one should see her splayed out on the floor, skirts a mess and hair all over the place. She was a lady and he had already taken enough from her.

“Unload the wagons.” He says softly, gently brushing a blood drenched curl off Pear’s throat.

“What about Miss. Attaway, Mr. Frye?”

“I’ll take care of it, just go.”

“Yes sir.” The Rook utters softly, turning away from the sad sight in front of her and heading out to the others.