IS ARTHUR, PRINCE OF HEARTBREAK, FINALLY OUT OF MOURNING?-2
713 Words
AMELIA SAT AND STARED out the window of the train as it rumbled smoothly from York through the northern countryside toward London. She and her brother Charlie had left at an ungodly hour, and the landscape sweeping by outside was still dark.
Tired as she was, the quiet murmur of the other passengers was soothing. As the train moved further south and more people got on, the ambient accents shifted from Scottish and Yorkshire to the sharper — to Amelia’s ear, at least — accents of the midlands and south.
England, Scotland, and Wales comprised the Unified Kingdom, a political entity that had existed since the eighteenth century. To the west, Ireland was a separate country whose ruling family occasionally intermarried with English royalty and otherwise watched the political turmoil of their cousins across the Irish Sea with amused and benign judgment.
Amelia couldn’t help but feel a mix of envy and resentment toward them. And toward the Scots. They were part of the Unified Kingdom, but they had not only their own distinct voices but their own country. Even Wales was its own country, and Wales was nearly as poor as Yorkshire.
The Yorkish people, her people, were as distinct as the Scots or the Welsh. But rather than be recognized as a country within the Unified Kingdom in its own right, Yorkshire and the entire north — all the counties between the Midlands and the Scottish border — were seen as a backwater. Not worth government money or even a kind word in the myths and legends that drove the nation’s tourism-based economy. Even the worst off of the south always fared better.
It wasn’t a new issue, and it wasn’t one Amelia had any power to solve, even if she was an earl’s daughter. Her parents had never been disloyal to the Crown and had never advocated separation from the south, unlike some of their neighbors. This was, she knew, probably wise. Without acquiescence, she suspected Yorkshire would have even less than it already did. Still, Amelia wished it were possible for her, or them, to do more. She stewed on that as the train made its way southwards. Doing so was better than stewing on the mess of her own life.
“How are you holding up?” Charlie interrupted her brooding. He set his book on the table between them and gave Amelia his concerned big-brother look.
Amelia sighed in lieu of answering.
“That bad?”
“On the brightest of bright sides, I think Father’s relieved his only daughter isn’t going to be marrying a commoner.”
“You know he doesn’t care about things like that.”
“Oh yes. Because Gary was from perfectly respectable new money. And marrying into perfectly respectable new money is all I’m expected to achieve. Hurrah for me, youngest daughter of a minor earl.”
“Mother’s favorite oops.” Charlie teased her.
Amelia made a face. She had two older brothers and was the only girl. Charlie, her eldest brother, was forty, a solicitor happily married with two children, the eight-year-old twins Meg and Freddie. As Viscount Brockett and heir to the earldom, he’d been absolutely supposed to marry someone with a title. Probably a distant cousin. Preferably a duchess or a countess, but at least someone with Lady before their name. Instead he’d married Jo, a black woman from a Yorkish family that could trace its roots to the city’s Roman founding.
Nick, Amelia’s second brother, was thirty-five and resolutely single, despite Jo and their mother’s attempts to set him up with any remotely eligible young man. At least his career in the City working for whichever investment bank didn’t have the most scandals that week was going well.
Which left Amelia, as of today, the failure of the family.
“So,” Amelia said to Charlie. “I got rejected from my first choice school. My boyfriend of two years dumped me without warning or explanation. My mother announced both of these facts to the entire neighborhood. I’m twenty-two, and I will be starting my last term with no boyfriend and no career prospects. Happy New Year to me.”
“You might still get into Santa Barbara.” Charlie was ever eager to be encouraging.
“Charlie?” Amelia did not want to talk about backup schools right now.
“Yes?”
“Shut up.”
“Yes, dear sister.”
They exchanged sleepy smiles over the table. Charlie had always been her favorite. He often played a more substantial role in her life than their father, and he always took Amelia seriously. Even if she was the youngest. And even now that her life had gone completely to pieces.
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- Writer
