XIX. Songbird.

Maude walked silently into one of the meetings held in the House of Commons. Tommy was meeting with an important man, Mr. Oswald Mosley, and she had to accompany him. She walked down the aisle of Tory benches and found herself an empty seat. Her gaze settled on Tommy as he spoke to the room full of men of the Conservative party.

Her brows furrowed when she felt the uneasy feeling of someone watching her. She turned her head, meeting the gaze of a man two benches over. His dark hair was slicked back and he had a neatly trimmed mustache. His dark eyes were settled on Maude, filled with curiosity.

She shifted, clenching her jaw as her gaze returned to Tommy, listening to him speak.

When the meeting was over, Tommy took Maude and led her toward one of the private lounge rooms to meet with Mr. Mosley. She was unsettled and worried when she saw Mr. Mosley was the man who had been watching her earlier. She had heard terrible things about this man, and just being in his presence was off-putting.

"Mr. Shelby." Mosley greeted with an eerie smile when Maude and Tommy approached. He folded up his newspaper and stood up, shaking Tommy's hand. "I must say, you sing like a songbird in the House." he complimented before his gaze flicked to Maude, his smile remaining as he looked her over. "And who is this pretty finch?" he asked as he held out his hand towards her.

"My wife," Tommy replied, his tone holding a hint of warning as he watched Maude take Mosley's hand to shake.

Maude's eyes narrowed when, instead of shaking her hand, Mosley lifted it and attempted to place a kiss on her knuckles. "Who's not flattered," she replied with a hint of sharpness as she snatched her hand back before the man could kiss it.

Tommy cleared his throat at his wife's unwavering behavior that would be perceived as rude or disrespectful by a man like Mosley. "And dangerous." He added as he sat down, and so did Maude and Mosley.

Tommy was not oblivious to his wife's headstrong attitude. It was one of the many things he adored about her. Just because you were dangerous, didn't mean Maude would kneel for you.

"Oh, we adore dangerous." Mr. Mosley replied as he grinned.

Maude looked at him, raising her eyebrows as she crossed one leg over the other. "Who's we?" she questioned him.

"It's a collective noun, in this case describing a group of people who are impatient and young and, as I have said, adore dangerous." Mr. Mosley replied, and Maude pursed her lips as she glanced at her husband, who lit himself a cigarette. Mr. Mosley's attention turned to Tommy. "Mr. Shelby, you had a horse of that name."

Tommy and Maude shared a look at the mention of Tommy's horse. A waiter passed them and Tommy snapped his fingers to get his attention. Maude immediately reached out and lowered her husband's hand when he snapped his fingers. "Whiskey. Irish." Tommy told the waiter.

"Give him one from my bottle. And one for myself. In fact, bring the bottle." Mr. Mosley instructed the waiter before his gaze flicked towards Maude. "And the lady?" he asked as he quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Isn't thirsty," Maude replied as her lips pulled into a tight line. "How do you know about the horse?" She questioned him as she raised her eyebrows while the waiter walked away.

Mr. Mosley's gaze turned to Tommy. "We have a mutual acquaintance. May Carleton," he informed and Maude's jaw clenched as her eyes slowly turned to Tommy, who refused to meet his wife's gaze. " When I asked about you, she said, Oh, my goodness, where do I begin?" he informed Tommy and Maude rolled her eyes.

"And why were you asking after me?" Tommy questioned as he stared at Mosley with a blank look on his face.

"Because, as I have said, I adore dangerous." Mr. Mosley replied as he shrugged his shoulders.

Maude shifted in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest. "And where did she begin?" she asked sharply as she raised her eyebrows.

Mosley shot a side-eyed look towards Maude before turning to Tommy with a tight-lipped smile. "You know, I was rather hoping we might have this meeting alone," he told Tommy and Maude quirked an offended eyebrow at him.

Tommy clenched his jaw, also feeling offended. "My wife is my adviser," he informed.

"And my advice just now was, Don't meet Mr Mosley," Maude replied sharply as she shook her head at the man.

"Because I am dangerous?" Mosley questioned in a cocky tone as he quirked an eyebrow at Maude, grinning again.

Maude scoffed in amusement, a sarcastic grin spreading across her face. "No," she replied as she shook her head.

Tommy inhaled sharply as he looked at Mosley. "What is it you are impatient for, Mr Mosley?" he questioned as he took a drag of his cigarette before handing it off to his wife.

Mr. Mosley diverted his gaze, staring into the distance. "I'm impatient for my fucking whiskey," he muttered in a low voice before slamming his hand down on the table. "Bennett!" he yelled for the waiter. Tommy squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, and Maude wanted to laugh at how uncomfortable she was with Mosley's tantrum. Mosley's attention returned to Tommy. "May Carleton spoke about you the way I imagine one might about a party they barely remember, where you crash the car into the dovecote and live on champagne and cocaine for three whole days," he explained before turning to Maude. "You know, that kind of party?"

"Only three days?" She asked mockingly as she took a drag of Tommy's cigarette before handing it back to him. "That's more of a bore than dangerous." she insisted while blowing out a puff of smoke.

Mosley stared at her, chuckling softly as he smiled. Bennett returned with the whiskey and some glasses before rushing off again.

Tommy grabbed the bottle of whiskey and filled the two glasses. "My wife advised against meeting you because it appears you are moving away from the party...in a different direction," he explained as he took one of the glasses and sat back in his seat.

"And which direction is that?" Mr. Mosley questioned as he raised his eyebrows, shooting a side eyed glance towards Maude that had Tommy's hand plant itself on her thigh underneath the table.

"Towards fascism," Maude replied as she stared Mr. Mosley dead on. She reached underneath the table, putting her hand on Tommy's, fiddling with his wedding ring.

Mr. Mosley stared at Maude for a moment before his blank gaze turned to Tommy. "We are the people, and we have had enough," he repeated part of Tommy's speech earlier. "I thought that was excellent," he said as he pointed at Tommy while giving another eery smile. "In which direction are you heading, Mr Shelby?"

"I am my own revolution," Tommy replied as he stared at Mr. Mosley, his hand still securely resting on Maude's thigh, giving her flesh a small squeeze.

Mr. Mosley nodded before his gaze turned to the bottle of whiskey on the table. "And you prefer Irish to Scotch," he muttered, grabbing the glass of whiskey Tommy had poured for him. "As do I," he said and for a moment, Tommy's grip on Maude's thigh instinctively tightened. "Like all things regarding Ireland, it is... complex. Yes?" he said, but Tommy remained silent as he stared at Mosley.

Maude knew her husband long and well enough to know he was getting pissed off. She could recognize his death stare as he fought to keep his temper in check. She moved her hand underneath his on her thigh, intertwining their fingers as she gave him a cautious look.

Mosley stared at Tommy with a smug look before diverting his gaze and taking a sip of his whiskey. "Oh!" he hummed before his gaze returned to Tommy. "Where do you stand on the Irish question, Mr Shelby?" he asked.

Tommy's lips pulled into a tight line for a moment as he slowly shook his head. "Never been asked it," he replied.

"Then perhaps it's time you were." Mr. Mosley replied.

Maude shifted, growing increasingly worried and concerned by the turn of the conversation, turned to her husband. "Tommy, I am the people, and I have had enough," she told him with a huff as she let go of his hand and stood up.

Tommy went to stand up with his wife but stopped when Mosley spoke again. "We are looking for someone to begin a dialogue...with certain elements in Belfast with whom we don't officially have any dealings," he told Tommy.

"I'll be too busy singing in the House," Tommy replied as he shook his head.

"It would involve a promotion. Junior Minister to the Duchy of Lancaster." Mr. Mosley informed, hoping to sweeten the deal.

"Birmingham is my concern," Tommy replied as he stood up and stomped his cigarette out in the ashtray. "Ireland bores me as a three-day party bores my wife." he mocked as he placed a hand on the small of Maude's back. "Thanks for the whiskey, Mr Mosley."

Tommy led Maude out of the lounge room and down two corridors before coming to a sharp halt, running a hand through his hair. "What the fuck was that about?" Maude questioned her husband as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Ireland." Tommy huffed as he began pacing, running one hand over his face while the other rested on his waist. "It's been Ireland's day all fucking day long." he spat.

"What do you mean?" Maude questioned as her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Tommy came to a stop and turned to his wife, leaning in close to her. "I need you to go home and call Ada, ask for a list of names of people who had dealings with Shelby Company Limited while she was in Boston. Call every name on the list. Ask them about Michael." he instructed, his voice low while he pointed a finger at her.

"Ask them what about him?" Maude asked as she raised her eyebrows.

"Who he's been seeing, who he's been meeting, what deals he's made." He explained.

Maude nodded her head in understanding but she was still a bit confused. "Why?" she asked him as she slowly shook her head.

"Ask 'em, especially about people he's met from Glasgow or Belfast." he continued without answering her question, and again, Maude nodded in understanding.

"Are you not coming home with me?" She asked softly as her eyebrows furrowed again. Tommy didn't answer her as he turned around, placing his hands on a nearby windowsill, lowering his head. Maude stood beside him, resting a hand on his upper arm. "Tommy what's going on?" she asked softly.

Tommy looked at her, his eyebrows furrowing as he slowly shook his head. "That bastard starts talking about Irish whiskey. The fuck does he know? Eh?" he questioned softly.

"More than me, Tommy," Maude replied dryly as she pursed her lips and quirked an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?" she asked him, growing worried with his riddles and all the unanswered questions.

"I'm talking about an empty chair, Maude. My chair. My throne." Tommy whispered as he slowly shook his head again. "People thinking I'm going to fall, they start behaving in a different way around you."

Maude shook her head, slightly rubbing Tommy's arm in small circles. "Who thinks that?" she asked him.

"They start to circle," he whispered as he shook his head once again, his gaze turning to the nearly blacked-out window in front of them. "Who's going to take the throne, eh? Linda, she wants some for Arthur, Aberama Gold, people in the north, Michael..." he mumbled before going silent for a moment. He let out a soft sigh before looking at Maude. "Just go home, make some calls. Protestants are coming, I think."

Maude's hand lifted from his arm and rested against his cheek. "Are you coming home with me or not, Tommy?" she asked softly as her thumb rubbed up and down his skin in a soothing motion.

"I have to think," Tommy whispered as he took her hand and placed a soft kiss on her palm. "I have to clear my mind before we meet Michael tomorrow," he told her, his lips brushing against the skin of her palm as he held her hand to his mouth for a second longer before lowering it with a parting kiss.

"What are you going to do?" She asked him softly as she raised her eyebrows.

"I'll pick Charles up from school today. Maybe me and him will go for a drive, get some ice cream," he told his wife as he slowly nodded his head.

Maude sighed softly, not asking her husband what he was going to do those few hours before Charlie got out of school. She stepped closer to Tommy and cupped his face between her hands. "You scare me when you talk like this," she admitted softly.

"I'm sorry sweetheart," he whispered as he closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers. "Michael's messing with my fucking head," he added in a hushed voice.

Maude pulled her head back enough to look Tommy in the eyes. "Polly doesn't think he betrayed you. Neither do I," she replied softly as she slowly shook her head. "Still, I don't think you should trust him. Neither his American wife," she added.

Tommy stared at her for a moment before nodding, taking her words to heart. He let out a soft sigh before kissing her forehead. "Go home sweetheart," he told her softly before pressing a lingering goodbye kiss to her lips.