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He can see her posture slipping as the night goes on. It’s been a long two months, filled with meetings just like this. Late nights with the Venturer team drinking, passing around finger food (always prepared and served by Taggie), shooting the shit and discussing the future of the franchise if they’re able to secure it.
The lines between the two sides are messier than ever. Rupert and Freddie spent some time in America and London seeking investors and opportunities for expansion. Without much success, they returned a few weeks ago. Tony was only recently discharged from the hospital, and still claims to not recall the events that brought him there, leaving a grenade on the ground that everyone is fearful of stepping on. Despite her continued support of Venturer, Cameron has been running Corinium in Tony’s absence, keeping her too occupied to be heavily involved in the discussions. And too occupied to spend much time with Rupert since his return. There had been one awkward conversation about marriage in order to secure her visa, in which Rupert had said it was prudent for them to see first what the fate of the franchise would be before they did anything rash. He doesn’t like to think about that particular fork in the road should it be needed.
In a minor but unexpected twist, Lizzie has been hanging around at most Venturer meetings despite her husband’s allegiance to Tony. Nobody questions the reason for this. She’s a friend to most of them, after all. A neighbor, even. But Rupert knows the real reason - an affair, which he wholeheartedly encourages, and the fact that Lizzie is beginning to flirt with the concept of divorce.
Seb remains a loyal member of the group, although he regularly appears to be on edge. After feeling the young man’s eyes on him for nearly half an hour the other night, Caitlin came to join Rupert at the edge of the room, revealing the reason for Seb’s ire.
Conspiratorially, she had whispered, “Tag broke up with him, you know. Just the other week. He hated you before, but I reckon he loathes you now. Don’t worry though, she never told him about the kiss so he has no reason to act on it. She’s very protective of you. A bit romantic, don't you think?”
When he had looked at her, utterly gobsmacked, she had just winked, patting his shoulder and skipping away.
Knowing the reason for Seb’s discontent demeanor has Rupert fixating on Taggie tonight, even more so than usual. She’s tired, he knows she is. Her face is drawn, faint bruising under her eyes from lack of sleep. She’s overworking herself with all this franchise nonsense, stretching herself too thin.
When he sees her gather a couple of dishes, declining Lizzie’s offer of help with a well-practiced smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, he tracks her as she moves in the direction of the kitchen. Noting that Declan is deep in conversation with Charles and Freddie, Rupert doesn’t hesitate to follow after her a minute later.
When he eases into the doorway, he finds her immediately. Apron around her waist, she scrubs at something in the soapy sink water. She’s not crying, but she might as well be. Her eyebrows are drawn together, lips pursed, shoulders tense. Gertrude raises her head to him from her bed just a few feet away, before seeing it’s Rupert and relaxing back down.
“Can I help?” He asks as softly as he’s able.
She pauses for only a moment, never lifting her eyes from the platter in her hands, before resuming her work.
“It’s fine, Rupert. You should rejoin the party.”
He knows the danger of ignoring her wishes, of upsetting her further, but he can’t stop himself from approaching her anyways. He pushes as close as he thinks she’ll be comfortable with, landing with his hip against the counter just a foot from where she stands.
“Tag…” he breathes.
“I can’t… do this right now,” she chokes out, eyes falling shut, platter slipping from her fingers as they find the edge of the sink, gripping tight.
He’s never seen her so defeated and his heart is breaking over it. He doesn’t want to be the cause of her pain.
“Can’t do what, darling?”
She heaves a breath. “I don’t know, I… any of it.”
He lets the silence hang heavy, allows her to rest in the truth of whatever she’s feeling. Of all the things he could say, he’ll never know why the next words come out of his mouth.
“Caitlin mentioned the other night that you ended it with Seb.” It’s truthfully the least important thing he could prod her about, makes him sound like a jealous boy, and he kicks himself for it.
The words earn a sharp, bitter laugh as she glances, or maybe glares, up at him. Then she looks back down, studying the swirling suds. She’s quiet, a somber look on her face as she thinks for a long stretch before speaking.
“It wasn’t because of you.”
“No?” he asks in his best attempt at being neutral, looking down to his shoes.
“Fine,” she says, and he glances back up to see her lips worry against themselves before she continues, “It wasn’t just because of you.”
“Mmm,” he hums in understanding. And then something changes as her shoulders slump in. She looks for all the world like a woman collapsing in on herself.
He softens himself as he inches just a bit closer to her.
“Please talk to me, Taggie. What is it?”
“It’s all a mess,” she whispers. “Mummy doesn’t answer our calls and Daddy is depressed and drinking all the time. The only thing he’ll talk about is the franchise, and the only thing he pulls himself together for is these meetings which I’m pretty sure are just his excuse to drink with company. I’m doing everything I can… To take care of the house and Caitlin. She’s back at school in just a week, and there’s so much to do, and we haven’t even completed her pa-p-packing list. They changed the jumper requirement this year and we need to get the new ones, um… ooh what’s it called. Emboldened?” she asks, her energy growing frantic. “Or…Fuck,” she whispers as her eyes squeeze shut, searching for the correct word in her mind that she’s incapable of producing.
“Taggie, slow down, you’re working yourself into a state,” Rupert says calmly, allowing himself the indulgence of raising his fingers to her bicep, his thumb rubbing small circles on her shoulder.
But she only shakes her head, eyes misty and unseeing as she turns to face him. “No, no, I’ve been running around town, spending too much money, and on top of that I can’t make sense of the bills for the house. But it’s pretty clear, we’re digging ourselves right back into debt. I’m always up late worrying and making sure Daddy gets to bed. And I ended it with Seb because I’m suffo-suff… I can’t breathe. And I’m tired, really tired, and when I’m tired, I can’t stop thinking about you. But there’s no point to any of it, is there? No point at all. It’s stu-stupid.”
There’s tears slipping down her cheeks now as she hiccups on a sob, and he really can’t stand it anymore.
“Nonono, don’t cry angel, I didn’t want to make you cry,” he says, finger raising to notch her chin upward. It’s then that she finally seems to see him, finally seems to solidify his presence in front of her.
“Rupert?” she whimpers, her face collapsing in complete heartbreak as the floodgates open.
And then, just like once before, she’s falling into him and he’s pulling her close. Taggie tucks her body in tightly, her arms folding up against his chest, her face pressing neatly against his neck. It takes him about half a second to assess what she needs.
His left arm encircles her, palm putting just enough pressure in the middle of her back to help her anchor herself close. His other palm snakes up into her hair, fingers working against her scalp in what he hopes is a soothing rhythm.
It’s quiet aside from her erratic, huffing breath. “Embroidered,” he says gently, his cheek nudging against hers. “Hmm? Caitlin’s jumpers need to be embroidered?”
A fresh sob breaks through her, but he feels like he’s helped her resolve something as she nods against him.
“That’s fine, that’s ok angel,” he shushes, his palm lowering from her hair to the nape of her neck, thumb tracing along her pulse point tenderly. She’s anchoring him just as much as he’s anchoring her. “You should have told me sooner, sweetheart. I’m here, Taggie. I know it’s all a mess, but I promise I’m here. I’ll always be right here.”
The promise is ambiguous, and it’s likely she doesn’t believe him, which he’s afraid is more than valid. In truth, things remain complicated. They’ve all been left in a terrible state of limbo. But his devotion to her, his willingness to be the answer to any worry she carries, is pure. So for now he needs to give her as much as he’s able. He needs to do his best.
Eventually, her heart rate slows and her breathing regulates, and she grows a bit lax in his arms. But they don’t break apart. She shivers, fingers fiddling with a button on his shirt. He asks if she’s cold, but she shakes her head no, pressing just a bit closer to him. There’s no space between them, from where the crown of her head nudges his jaw, to where her thighs are pressed against his. He thinks of kissing her forehead, but he doesn’t. She doesn’t deserve the risk of him muddying the lines further. It’s already confusing enough. So he settles for just holding her, palm sliding in a respectable line up and down her spine in a way that could maybe be considered friendly, comforting, his cheek nuzzling her temple. It’s so goddamn comfortable. Being near to her is a drug. He figures he could do this for the rest of his life, her breath warm, puffing against his clavicle. He wants to take her to bed, but only because he can feel her growing sleepy and he knows he could get her to rest for a reasonable number of hours, which she sorely needs. He’s really not sure they would have ever made the choice to part if it weren’t for her father.
“Ey! What’s going on here?” Neither of them hear him come in. His demanding presence shatters the peace, his voice rising from the doorway.
Rupert takes a bit of pride in the fact that Taggie doesn’t spring apart from him, doesn’t startle at the intrusion of being caught. There’s something there. A claim that she’s not ashamed to be near him like this. A representation of her defense of him, perhaps. A choice being made.
He raises his eyes over the fluff of auburn hair tucked into him, acknowledging Declan before returning to his focus, which is Taggie. It’s always Taggie. He flutters his thumb against her neck, and then her cheek when she finally pulls her face from its shelter, eyes holding each other for a moment. Then, without rush, she disentangles herself from him. He keeps a few fingertips on one of her hips for a second more. When he knows she’s safely standing without his support, he finally breaks the contact, stepping back. She quickly swipes at her reddened nose, sniffling, and then finally turns towards her father.
“Nothing Daddy. Nothing is going on,” she says, an irritated edge to her tone. “Christ, leave it alone already,” Rupert hears her say quietly as she passes her father and exits the kitchen.
Declan jostles as she passes him, but his only response is to raise his tumbler of whiskey to his lips, eyes dark as he glares at Rupert. But this time, nothing is said between the two, no punches are thrown, a contrast to how it would have been two months ago.
Rupert looks around, wondering where they go from here.
“I think I’ll take Gertrude for a quick walk, before heading out,” he declares. “Tag seems a bit overwhelmed getting things cleaned up.”
Declan stays stoic before nodding, something shifting into place in his eyes. Shame, maybe? Acceptance?
“I’ll let her know you’ve taken care of it,” Declan finally responds, before nodding and leaving the kitchen.
Left by himself, Rupert takes a moment to breathe, looking at the moon just outside the kitchen window. If he were a different version of himself, a man who had made different choices in his life, he could be more forthright. He could whisk her away from this home, so long as it’s what she wanted. But he’s made a muck of it all.
“All right, c’mon girl. Let’s go sniff for a spot to piss, yeah?” He says to Taggie’s beloved mutt, who springs up eagerly. To his delight, she doesn’t hesitate, trotting with trust beside him on a nearby trail as he lights a cigarette. When they’re both done, he returns to the house, where it appears everyone has been sent home. The cars are gone and the hearth room is empty. Declan’s office doors are shut, where he’s likely passed out on the couch, and Taggie and Caitlin are nowhere to be found, probably off to bed.
He thinks of doing something mental, like climbing the stairs to her bedroom door, which he now knows is located on the right mezzanine. He just wants to check on her, make sure she’s alright. But then he thinks about sitting with her, to make sure she can sleep… Maybe slipping beneath the covers and laying with her. Holding her for a bit. And then…
He sighs. Instead, he grabs his jacket and exits the Priory, jumping in his car. By the time he’s pulling into the front drive at Penscombe, he has a clear list in his head of what needs to be done next.
When Taggie wakes the next morning, it’s to the disappointing effects of a hangover, without the benefit of having been absolutely plastered the night before. No, instead she’s left with an emotional headache, and the terrifyingly clear memory of breaking down and staining Rupert’s linen collar with her tears.
She lets herself mope for just a moment, before getting out of bed, slipping on a jumper, and heading to the kitchen to get started on breakfast. She knows she and Caitlin have to make as much use of the day as possible.
“Cait!” she shouts through the halls, but no response comes. She doesn’t bother seeking her father out this early. When Taggie gets to the sink to finish the last few dishes from the night before, she sees the note. It’s written in large capital letters, the ones Caitlin knows she has an easier time with.
GERTRUDE HAS BEEN OUT.
I’LL BE BACK BY NOON.
- CAITLIN
“What the fuck, Caitlin?” Taggie mutters to herself. Wasting a whole morning like this really isn’t an option. Taggie also has to prep for a ladies’ tea at the Hampshire’s tomorrow, which she was planning to do after she took Caitlin into town. Having no other option, she grabs her apron and gets to work on some cakes and scones.
By the time noon rolls around, Taggie is blowing a hair from her face as she sits at the table idly. The kitchen’s been cleaned, she’s washed herself and put on jeans and a blouse for town, and several pastries are cooling in front of her as she nurses a cup of tea.
Left to her own silence, Taggie’s mind becomes fixated on the feel of Rupert’s large palm on her back, the smell of smoke and cologne on his throat, the safety she felt being held by him like that. The way he's ruining her for anyone else by simply caring for her so well.
It’s then that she hears tires out front.
“Finally,” Taggie mutters, staring into her cup, face resting on her palm as she listens to the front door opening.
“I’m telling you. In just one winter it was four house mice, two bunny rabbits, and a kitten. Mummy had the idea of throwing them all back out to the snow just before Christmas, but Rupert, Tag had such a fit over it that Mummy would have had to put her out to woods along with them. She’s the patron saint of small animals, our Tag.”
And then, Rupert is in the doorway of the kitchen with her sister at his side.
“Ahh, the saint in question,” Rupert says, eyes finding her before he looks back to Caitlin. His smile is cheeky as he continues, “Believe it or not, your sister’s adoration for rodents is one of the first things I learned about her.”
Taggie’s eyes bounce between them, noting the several shopping bags each is holding. She can’t make sense of Rupert’s presence, and quite frankly can’t really handle the way he’s looking at her, so she looks to her sister instead.
“Caitlin, what-” she starts, but her sister cuts her off.
“Rupert was here this morning when I woke up. Him and Gerald took me into town, they helped me finish off my packing list.” Her eyes are mischievous, looking between Rupert and Taggie. “Wasn’t that nice of him, Tag?” she asks, but before Taggie can respond, Caitlin is gathering the rest of her bags from Rupert.
“I’m going to go put this all up in my bedroom. Thanks Rupe! It’s been a dream!” she tosses back at him, doing a little spin as Rupert huffs an abashed chuckle. And then, she’s gone.
Taggie is without words, her wide eyes on the doorway, before swinging back towards Rupert. Watching her, he pushes from where he’s leaning and walks around the table to stand in front of her.
“Rupert…” she starts, but then he’s dropping in a crouch in front of her chair, holding up a small yellow slip.
“This is the receipt from the tailor. The jumpers will be ready on Thursday, noon.” With one hand he sets the receipt on the table in front of her, and with his other he reaches out, giving her denim-clad knee a squeeze.
“Rupert, you didn’t have to... I didn't mean for you to -“
But then he’s standing, running a hand over his tie. With a thumb over his shoulder he asks “Is your disapproving father in his office? We need to have a chat.”
Taggie can only nod at him. “I think so.”
Rupert watches her a moment more, looking her over as if to make sure she’s survived her self-implosion. Then he offers her a small smile and a nod, and he’s off.
An hour later, Taggie sets up a tray of tea and sandwiches, and edges her way into her father’s office. Neither man breaks from their conversation. When Taggie approaches, she sees the house bills spread out on the table between then, a mess of papers and calculations, and what she thinks are bank forms.
When she tries to set the tray down, Rupert reaches quickly to help, clearing a space for her.
“This looks lovely, thanks angel,” he says, sending a small smile up at her. She blushes, glancing to her distracted father before returning Rupert’s smile.
Finally breaking from his concentration, her father glances up, eyes ashamed and apologetic. She clears her throat, worrying her palms against her apron.
“Well, I’ll just – “ she starts, about to excuse herself.
It’s her father who reaches out, fingers grabbing her wrist to keep her in place. She freezes, her eyes meeting his.
“You’re alright, Tag?” he questions. And though it may be weak of her to give in so easy given what he’s put her through, her love for her father makes the forgiveness come quick. It always has.
“I’m alright, Daddy. We’ll be alright.” She steps forward, wrapping an arm around his head to press a kiss into his hair.
Taggie never fully learns what the two men discuss that day, all she knows is that things get better. Life gets a little easier. And Rupert lets himself get a little nearer to her. He checks in on her, never lets things get as bad as they were. After that night, he makes sure Taggie never feels alone with it all.
Through this, one thing becomes certain- she will probably spend the rest of her days being in love with this man who is working very hard to love her back despite his own nature; despite the fact that they are very much not together. They can’t be. But still. It feels nice that he’s trying.
It will destroy her if he ever stops.