Eleanor looks up at Esme on the stairs as she and Tommy walk into the shop, her brows furrowing at the woman's bitter-sounding words. She shifts her gaze to Tommy at her side, who slides his hands in his pockets and looks at the woman.
"Everyone's allowed to speak." His words startle the woman and Eleanor eyes her closely. "On your feet, Esme. Let's hear what you have to say."
John clears his throat, looking between his wife and his brother warily. "I speak for our household. So, could-"
"John," Tommy tilts his head, his tone derisive. "This company is a modern enterprise and believes in equal rights for women. On your feet, Esme."
The woman looks at her husband hesitantly, but shuts her book, setting it on the stairs as she stands up and turns to face them all. Eleanor crosses her hands before her, raising her brows expectantly as Tommy pulls a cigarette out of the pack and puts it to his lips.
"I'm not a blood member of this family, but perhaps indeed because I'm not a member, I can see things in a different light. So I'll get to my point,"
"That would be nice," Polly blows out a puff of smoke and Eleanor smirks amusedly.
"As my husband said, Shelby Company Limited is now very successful. But London," Esme looks to Tommy, her tone stern and almost scolding. "I have kin in Shepherd's Bush and Portobello. It's more like wars between armies down there. And the coppers fight side by side with them."
Eleanor shifts, reaching up to swipe her bangs out of her eyes as she shares a brief, humorous gaze with Arthur who hides his smirk with his hand.
"And there are foreigners of every description. And the use of bombs is the least of it," She shakes her head, appearing frightful. "I have a child, blessed with the Shelby family's good looks. I want John to see him grow up. I want us to someday live somewhere with fresh air and trees, and keep chickens or something. But London is just smoke and trouble, Thomas."
Eleanor's eyes widened, a shocked hum leaving her. "Thomas?" She echoed incredulously, looking at the woman.
"That's all I have to say."
"That was a lot of words. Lot of words," Arthur nods, reaching for a glass of whiskey that he hands to Tommy behind him. "Wash 'em down with a nice drink,"
Tommy takes it, tipping it in Esme's direction. "Thank you, Esme." He sips half of it and hands the rest to Eleanor, who takes it readily and finishes it off, setting it down roughly on the table beside Arthur's arm.
