☆ ᴡᴀᴛᴛʏꜱ 2024 SHORTLISTER!! ☆
A tragic misunderstanding. A murder. A secret. An unlikely partnership. A spirited countess and an enterprising racketeer.
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Manchester, England. May 1925.
The Roarin' 20s. An era of glamor, decadent parties, jazz mus...
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“Aye, ya gotta be there, alright?” Liam said into the telephone receiver. “I want as many members of the family present as possible.”
“I don't wanna hang around a bunch of bloody toffs all night, Will,” Jackson's voice moaned from the other end of the line. “Up-tight sods in their prim tuxedos and shite drinkin' booze we paid for. Fuck 'em.”
“Booze I paid for,” Liam corrected. He ran a hand over his face and slouched lower on his desk chair. “Jackson, listen to me, eh? Ya listenin'? You're me brother. Ya need to be there. You and Ransom. And Audrey. I need all my siblings in attendance. It's important. Alright?”
Jackson clicked his teeth. “Yeah, alright,” he said, his tone amicable. “For you, Will. But I'd rather spend me Saturday night at the Broken Crown than a stuffy party for the Clementine Mercer Institute. Just so's y'know.”
“I'd rather be at the Broken Crown, too, Jack,” Liam stated. “We agree on that point. But this fundraiser is necessary; we need those donations for the expansion. There are too many orphans in England. Too many motherless children. We know somethin' about that, don't we?”
“We do, aye,” Jackson granted, his voice laden with memory. “I'll be there. In me finest.”
“Good,” Liam said. “Glad to hear that. And I hope this goes without sayin', but ‘your finest’ better include Tuppence on your arm.”
Jackson produced a pitiful sound in his throat reminiscent of both a whine and a groan. “Liam. Ya tryin' to kill me? Send me off to Flanders Fields all by me lonesome? Thought we were family!”
Liam shook his head against the handset. “Are you really comparing a night in the company of your wife to being killed on the battlefield?”
“I am, aye! And rightly so! Y'know what she's like, Liam.”
“I know, Jack. I know,” Liam allowed in an attempt to head off his brother's wallowing. “Having Tuppence there will be aggravating. It will. For everyone. Ya think I want her makin' moony eyes at me all night? No. But she's Edmund Holcroft's daughter, and your marriage to her is widespread news. Those upper crust attendees will expect to see her there. With you. Y'know I'm right.”
Jackson huffed into the receiver. “Yeah, I know. You're right, Will. Ransom bringin' Luisa? Tuppence seems to like her alright. Likes her fancy Italian dresses, anyway.”
“Aye,” Liam confirmed. “Luisa'll be there. And once you and Ransom take a couple turns around the ballroom with 'em, the ladies can keep each other company. It's a show, Jackson. A performance. These posh types like to see family unity. Stable married couples an' all that. Makes them feel more at ease with their own decisions, which in turn, makes them more comfortable about openin' their pocketbooks and writin' cheques.”
“Alright, yeah. Understood. I can put on airs for donations.”
“Good man,” Liam praised his youngest brother. “Eight o'clock. Tower Ballroom. With Tuppence. And no misbehavior.”
