vii. | hell hath no fury

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chapter  seven:




hell  hath  no  fury





"Heav'n has no rage,

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"Heav'n has no rage,

like love to hatred turn'd, nor hell a

fury, like a woman scorn'd."






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AFTER A LATE BREAKFAST THE NEXT MORNING DELILAH MADE QUICK WORK OF THE DISHES AND WAS JUST about to make her exit from the kitchen when her grandmother took notice of the air of excitement radiating from the girl.

"Where are you off to in such a hurry today?" Mary asked from behind the days paper making the redhead stop in her tracks at the doorway of the small kitchen.

Shift her weight in a nervous habit the girl readied herself for whatever her grandmother might have to say about her plans. Orla had forewarned her cousin of Mary's dislike for the Shelby family. Not that Delilah was the least bit surprised by it; Mary Sainte didn't seem to like much of anyone.

"I'm off to the Shelby house," she told the old woman hesitantly, not one to lie about anything, "Ada Shelby has invited me to tea today."

The room was still for a moment while Mary seemed to process her words.

With a sigh, the Sainte matriarch put her paper to the side of the table and leveled her granddaughter with a look.

"I feel as if I have been very lenient with you, Delilah; all I've asked of you is to find yourself a job to keep you busy, teach you something of responsibility. Unlike your cousins whom my daughter let's loose to run around with the ruffians of the city," she rolled her eyes at the thought, "and to be a woman of God and attend your weekly services. But I won't tolerate you getting yourself involved with that family."

The hardness at the mention of the Shelby family hadn't lessened any by the end of her scolding.

Delilah tried not to bristle at the implied command: stay away from the Shelby's or else.

Nodding empatheticly, the girl schooled an understanding look on her face. She didn't like to lie, she had never had reason to, but the Shelby family had been nothing but kind to her so far and according to Lillian and Orla, their families were very close. So, why did Mary seem to disdain the very thought of them?

SACRILEGE | THOMAS SHELBY | PEAKY BLINDERS STORY (HIATUS)Where stories live. Discover now