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When you get married you lose yourself. It happened to Polly, it happened to her sister in law. No one ever spoke her name, she just became Mrs. Shelby in life and death. Polly was luckier, she guessed, at least people used her first name back then. Even before the Peaky Blinders, before the name Shelby could make a grown man shit himself, Polly could still with a glare make people move aside.
Her sister in law couldn't. She was fragile. Like she'd been plucked from some land far away and unable to thrive in this world. Polly called her “Fae” because she was convinced she was a fairy.
She had loved her. Polly never said it. The world wouldn't have understood it. Her brother would have killed her for looking at his wife. But she had.