"My lying is a second skin by now, so easy to forget it's there, so I don't always remember that lying is actually an art, and those who aren't meticulous about it are easily exposed." Jillian Cantor, Margot

---- 

XXVIII.

Joe dressed quickly, and by dressed it meant that he had shoved his legs into a pair of breeches and boots and was running back down the hallway trying to force his flailing arms into his coat with an untied cravat flapping about his neck.

He was nowhere near as quiet as Ed had been and Joe knew that he was at risk of alerting the house that he was up and about and was in fact leaving, but he did not care. There was something grievously wrong and Joe wouldn't leave his brother to fend for himself.

The way Ed had reminded Joe that he loved him was haunting and frightening, and it made Joe think of all the times that his brother had said such things. Ed often told Joe that he loved him with concern and anxiety about his tone, as though he needed Joe to know that he loved him above all. It sparked three dozen questions and Joe could not force his legs to move quickly enough while simultaneously chastising himself for not tackling Ed to the ground five minutes earlier.

When Joe made it outside onto the street which was illuminated by the soft flames in the flickering streetlamps, he immediately spied Ed walking around the corner onto one of the main Mayfair streets. His head was down as he marched with purpose.

There were no hackney carriages about at this time of night, nor had he woken any of Ashwood's servants to have a carriage brought around for him. Wherever he was going, Ed planned on travelling alone.

Joe continued to follow Ed as carefully as he could, making no effort to call out to his brother lest Ed be frightened off. Joe was worried. This behaviour was concerning, and Joe needed to know if Ed was in trouble. Ed was always the one determined to fix Joe's problems and to protect Joe from their father. Ed never, not once, asked for anything in return. But that did not mean that he did not need help.

Ed left the residential streets of Mayfair and their grand houses and journeyed to a livelier part of town about a mile from Ashwood Place. The public houses were all lit up and people, drunk men, spilled out of them onto the streets reeking of ale. Scantily dressed women gathered in groups of three or four, and as Joe passed them, they called out to him with their prices. Joe couldn't even muster a polite decline as he continued to follow Ed, who expertly weaved his way through the busier street.

And then he disappeared.

Joe's heart stopped as he broke into a run, sprinting towards the place he had last seen Ed. Had someone grabbed him? Had he been abducted? The worst flashed through Joe's mind as he realised that he had come to a narrow alleyway that diverted away from the main street. It was dark and oppressive, and the buildings either side of it looked like they leaned over towards one another, almost touching at dormers on the third floors.

But the alleyway was where Ed had disappeared to, and Joe made it just in time so see Ed knock three times on a door and be received inside. When the door had opened, the alleyway had been lit briefly, and the sound of music from within spilled outside. And as quickly as the door had been opened, Ed disappeared inside, and the door was shut behind him.

What in the world was going on? What was this place? Was it a tavern? Why on earth would Ed sneak out in the middle of the night to visit a tavern? They had only been sipping very expensive whiskey at White's a few hours earlier. Joe was certain that if Ed had wished to continue drinking, or ... or perhaps if he wished to secure the company of a lady for the evening, their father would have happily facilitated him.

Joe could not stand there wondering. Whatever this place was, Ed had not been himself, and Joe knew that he would not ever be able to live with himself if he did not make sure that his brother was safe. No matter his mistakes, and there had been a multitude, he would get this one right.

He made his way down the alleyway and he could taste his heartbeat. His breaths were rapid and unsteady, and his palms were slick with sweat. There was only one door. The rest of the alley was filled with empty wooden barrels, crates of waste, and the sounds and smells of rats scurrying about. Nevertheless, Joe lifted his hand and knocked on the door three times, just as he had seen Ed do.

Joe was surprised to see a peephole open, and the confused gaze of a man behind it. The door swung open to reveal a young man of about five and thirty, with tousled, untidy dark hair and a very perplexed brow.

"Didn't I just let you in, Mr Turner?" The young man's voice was slightly slurred, indicating that he had been drinking.

Mr Turner? Was Ed using a pseudonym?

Joe could hear the sounds of jovial music and a multitude of voices behind this man. It sounded like a party, and a large one at that. This man seemed to be keeper of this establishment, the one whom admitted the guests, and Joe very quickly understood how to use his appearance to his advantage.

"Yes," Joe confirmed. "I dropped something outside and I had to retrieve it. Let me pass, would you?" he asked with a silent prayer.

"Alright then."

The door was opened wider, and Joe offered the man a nonchalant nod of appreciation as he crossed over the threshold. Meanwhile, on the inside, he was stunned that his pathetic excuse had actually worked. The moment Joe was inside, the door was closed behind him, and he was assaulted by the scent of ale that had leeched into the wooden floors and walls.

A curtain, a thick, red drape, was all that blocked Joe from the party behind it, and so he took a deep breath, stepped forward, and pulled it aside. The room behind it was large and rectangular, and filled with sofas, chairs, and a long billiards table. Candelabras littered every surface, and a bar was established at the back with a well-stocked inventory.

Joe anxiously searched the partygoers for his brother, and so he did not notice at first that there was not a single woman present. But it did not take him long to realise that some of the guests were ... quite familiar with one another.

They were all gentlemen of varying ages, as evidenced by their dress and their adornments. They all carried golden pocket watches and swirled glasses of amber liquid. But ...

Joe's eyes focussed on the settee nearest to him. The floral upholstered sofa was occupied by two men. The eldest was seated to the right of the chair, and the younger ... the younger was seated in his lap with his arms encircled around the older gentleman's neck. The moment Joe began to notice these connections, it did not take him long to see how many of the men in this establishment were cocooned together as though they were ...

Molly house.

The term suddenly came to Joe, an isolated memory from his time in the navy. It was a place he had heard about, a clandestine, secret place for men who possessed certain preferences. Such knowledge had come with strict warnings of conduct for officers, with the threat of death, hard labour, or transportation for any officer caught in a place such as a molly house and participating in the illegalities that went on there.

But then, all at once, the blood began to drain from his face, and Joe felt a coldness sweep over him. His stomach began to spasm and churn as he realised that Ed was here.

The shock was crippling, paralysing, and Joe completely forgot how to breathe. His eyes flicked about as if independent from his body, searching desperately to be wrong. He felt the tears begin to flood his eyelids and prickle as they spilled over.

And that was when Joe finally spotted Ed. His brother, his twin, the one he knew best of anyone, was standing closely with another man by the bar. The man reached out and gently brushed Ed's cheek with the backs of his knuckles.

This had to be a dream, a nightmare. This could not be reality. Joe and Ed knew everything about each other. They were each other's closest confidante. They were twins with twin souls! And yet, as Joe trembled in disbelief, his heart practically fell out of his chest and shattered upon the ale-soaked floor.

Joe quickly realised, to his own devastation, that he didn't know his brother at all.

He knew that this had to be his own fault. Joe would certainly find his failure. But in that moment, he could barely think for the tremors that were vibrating through his body.

Something made Ed's head turn then, and suddenly the dark brown eyes that mirrored his own found Joe. Joe watched as the colour completely disappeared from his brother's face, just as it had done in his own. Fear, horrid fear and pure terror flooded Ed's face as he mouthed the word 'No!'.

Ed immediately left the man he had been speaking to, but his path was blocked by several gentlemen celebrating a master move on the billiards table. Ed looked up at Joe with desperation in his eyes, but Joe couldn't find the words. He couldn't stay. He whipped around and fled the molly house, racing past the inebriated doorman and disappearing out into the night.

***

Joe did not sleep at all. He had not returned to Ashwood Place, and instead found himself in a park nearby lying down on a bench to stop his mind from swirling out of control.

His plan failed.

Joe could not stop his mind from racing, his heart from thumping, his lungs from collapsing, any of it. The only thing that he could do, the only thing that made him feel any sort of connection to this earth, was by flipping open the back of his pocket watch and rubbing his thumb over the soft lock of hair.

Staring down at the dark curl of hair, and knowing just how he had secured it, should have disgusted Joe. But he couldn't bring himself to part with it. He could still remember the day he had reached forwards in front of him with a pair of scissors, and he had snipped a chunk of Perrie's hair off. Joe, of course, had meant to torture her, as was his pastime, and he had most definitely succeeded. But in the middle of it all, he had pocketed a lock, and it had lived in his watch ever since.

Why? Joe had absolutely no idea. But if anyone asked him, this watch was his most prized possession, and it was not because of the timepiece itself.

The hair that he had kept was evidence of his own cruelty, but Joe was selfish. He was cruel and selfish, and, in that moment, he desperately needed the comfort it brought him.

Joe desperately needed Perrie.

The thought and realisation came as quickly as the guilt did, and Joe collapsed atop the park bench in exhausted confusion. He needed her, and he couldn't explain why. He simply needed her, and he hated to need or rely on anyone. Joe didn't deserve to be a burden on anyone. His existence meant that his mother was not alive, and his deafness meant that his father was severely in debt. Joe was already the greatest burden on his family ... so much so that even his own brother ...

Joe could barely think of Ed without breaking.

He needed Perrie.

Joe needed Perrie to put butter in his boots. He needed her to climb on top of him while they were swimming in the pond in order to try and drown him. He needed her to throw soup at him while screaming in frustration. He needed to watch her beautiful blue eyes flare as he called her a 'little imp'. He needed to watch Perrie smile, and to see her knowingly speak to his right side. He needed to see her dark hair at her waist and her sharp tongue in action.

Because every moment in Joe's life where he had felt an ounce of true happiness, Perrie had been right there. He needed her, and that was perhaps his most selfish act of all. 

----

Shocked? Bamboozled? Flabbergasted? 

Lol, just you wait. 

Molly houses were real secret places during the 18th-19th centuries were men would meet to socialise and possibly meet sexual partners. At this point in history, homosexuality was illegal and the crime was considered 'sodomy' or 'buggery'. Words I absolutely DETEST. At this time, as well, homosexuality was considered a capital offence. 

I am so, so thankful that today my friends who are part of the LGBTQI+ community can live in peace and are free to be themselves, but they stand on the shoulders of these brave men, women, and humans, who braved prison and death to simply be who they were and to be with they people they loved.

But even in this day and age, it can still be a shock to family members when their loved ones come out. Or are discovered. 

Still so much to come. So much drama. So much. So much. You're not ready. Hehehe.

Vote and comment xxx