Chapter Text
Edward doesn’t get letters from Jacob often, when he’s not in the right area of the world to just talk to the lad. (He doesn’t remember to send them often, either, in Jacob’s defense.)
When they do arrive, they’re long, rambling things that take up multiple pages, postmarked from London every time. So the short missive he’s pulled from the envelope—postmarked from near Crawley—tonight is... concerning, to say the least.
Edward,
There’s trouble in London. Afraid I can’t handle it on my own. Killing me to write you like this, but I’ve got no choice. Even though I know you’ve business of your own to attend to. Have to say I’m sorry for that. I wouldn’t reach out like this if it wasn’t important. Might owe you one after it’s all over, which is a price I’m willing to pay. Don’t worry too much about me, I’ll manage until you can make it back—but I need you now. On the streets here. With me. Nothing else to it.
—Jacob
He reads it once, flips the paper over, sees there’s nothing else on it, then reads it again, frowning intently.
He’s still frowning at it when Haytham finds him. “...What is it?” his son asks.
“Letter from Jacob,” Edward says, frowning more.
Haytham raises an eyebrow. “That’s... rather short to be a letter from him.”
“Aye, I thought so too, and it’s... worrying,” Edward says, handing the letter over. “What do you make of it?”
His son reads it quickly, then—to Edward’s mild amusement, despite the situation—flips the paper over before turning back to the only words written on the page.
“Well,” Haytham says slowly, still looking at it, “it’s a rather... simple code, but if he was in as much of a hurry to write this as it seems, that would be... all he’d have time for.” He looks up at Edward, and elaborates, “The first letter of every sentence spells out ‘take him down’.”
Edward swallows. He doesn’t have any idea who the him in question might be, but Jacob wants him there, so he’ll be finding out soon enough.
“I suppose,” he says at last, “I’d best get back to London, then.”
Several emotions flicker over Haytham’s face in rapid succession, too quickly for Edward to make sense of them all. What he seems to settle on, though, is a rather grim determination.
“I believe Ratonhnhaké:ton will be understanding if our departure is rather hasty, given the... apparent circumstances.”
A part of Edward doesn’t want Haytham anywhere near this mess. He’d be safer over here, on the other side of the ocean, entirely uninvolved in whatever has happened to Jacob. The letter had only been addressed to Edward.
...But, Haytham is a much more distinctive name than Edward’s own, and Jacob clearly thought there was a risk of his letters being intercepted. And while Haytham might not be as stubborn as his son is, he’s still... incredibly stubborn. If he’s determined to invite himself along, he’ll do exactly that.
“You don’t have to join me,” Edward says. And then adds, as Haytham’s opening his mouth to object, “But I’m not foolish enough to try and stop you.”
Haytham snaps his mouth shut, giving him a wide-eyed stare. “...Good,” he says at last.
If Haytham’s coming, Shay certainly is.
...With any luck, Ratonhnhaké:ton won’t decide to join them too. He’s even more stubborn than his father.
Evie’s brother isn’t much for letters, on the whole. He never has been, really. But the usual sorts of letters she receives from him are incredibly long-winded and often result in him rambling at length about how his children, the Brotherhood, and London as a whole have been. They’re much more sporadic on the whole than Evie’s own; she makes a point of writing and sending hers off at the same times every month, whereas she might receive one letter in the span of a month and then three in the month after that, because he forgot something he’d wanted to write about in the first two.
Suffice it to say that there are numerous concerning aspects of the letter she holds in her hands now. It was posted not from London but from near Crawley, it had been long enough since Jacob’s last letter that she was beginning to get worried, and it’s... brief. Uncomfortably so, for him. But even discounting all that...
Evie,
There’s trouble in London. Afraid I can’t handle it on my own. Killing me to write you like this, but I’ve got no choice. Even though I know you’ve business of your own to attend to. Have to say I’m sorry for that. I wouldn’t reach out like this if it wasn’t important. Might owe you one after it’s all over, which is a price I’m willing to pay. Don’t worry too much about me, I’ll manage until you can make it back—but I need you now. On the streets here. With me. Nothing else to it.
—Jacob
Something doesn’t seem quite right, and Evie can’t quite put a finger on what.
“Evie?”
“It’s a letter from Jacob,” she says, turning toward her husband.
Jayadeep’s brow furrows. “You don’t sound pleased.”
Evie considers this, then offers him the letter. “Does anything about this strike you as particularly strange?”
He takes it, brow furrowing deeper as he scans what Jacob’s written. Eventually, he says, “The first letters of every sentence, your names excluded, spell out the words ‘take him down’.”
Oh. He’s right, they do.
“...That,” Evie murmurs, taking the letter back, “is even more troubling. Who does he mean?”
“I have as little idea as you,” Jayadeep says. “...I would go with you, my love, if I could.”
“I know,” Evie says softly. “Thank you.”