10Disclaimer: The English aristocracy as it is now and the aristocracy in this story differ slightly. Of course, I've taken inspiration from the original, but real members of the peerage system are not featured here.
. . .
"This is... Crazy." I muttered, as Jake walked back over to me. We were a little while away from landing in England, which was why Jake had had to disappear and change out of his jeans and T-shirt. I didn't even want to ask why that would be so offensive. "What's happening now, what's the plan?"
This afternoon had been a whirlwind. Honestly, I hadn't thought Jake was being serious when he'd asked me to go with him to England. I mean... It was England. And really, what would I do there? I was just his roomie. An old friend. Sure, it was like nothing had changed since middle school, but clearly for Jake – everything had changed.
Like the fact I probably couldn't call him Jake anymore.
Another thing I didn't want to ask? What I was supposed to call him.
We were on a private plane, too. I couldn't even react like a normal person, either, because I knew it would just freak Jake out more. Ha! He was freaked out? How did he think I felt?
After allowing himself like, three minutes to grieve his dead family, Jake and I had gone to see Bill. Obviously, Jake would need leave.
"Though as far as we're both concerned, my father is grievously ill." When I'd opened my mouth to ask why the Hell we were lying, Jake had just shook his head. "Three dead family members in one accident doesn't sound a little bit much to you, Allie? The first thing Bill will do, with that suspicious nature of his, is Google me and find out for himself – and the last thing I need, is for Bill to know he has a member of the aristocracy on his pay-roll and bound by contract, under a name I procured."
It was all just so complicated.
As it happened, Bill hadn't given a rat's ass anyway. Logan and Kendall had stopped Jake on our way in and I'd figured I'd go and talk to Bill – you know, lay the groundwork.
"Put your hood up, or get out." Bill muttered as soon as I walked in. I'd rolled my eyes and done just that. "What?"
"Jake's Dad is ill. He needs to go back to England for some time off-"
"No." Bill replied immediately, not even looking up from his laptop screen. He was middle-aged, with fashionable streaks of silver in his hair and rimless glasses that reminded me of a comic book villain. "The column is too popular and we've issued that space purely for you two for the next seven prints."
"Bill." Jake had sighed, walking in behind me. "I have to go. Duty calls."
I couldn't help but twitch my mouth a little at that. Bill had no idea what kind of duty.
"I want my column." Bill shrugged. "Sorry, kid, but think of it as my way of letting you know how valuable you are here."
"Bill, come on, don't be a jackass." I pleaded, ignoring the death glare Bill shot me. "Have some compassion! It's his dad-"
"How long would you be gone for?" Bill sighed, looking up at Jake. Jake glanced at me, hesitating. "Exactly. Indefinitely. Depends on how long your Dad takes to bite the dust, right? No offence. But it's true. So how am I expected to put this entire paper on hold for an indefinite amount of time? You're on contract, Verity. That means I have you right where I want you."
"The column won't suffer, Bill, I promise." Was Bill really making Jake do this? "You already have a few of the extra segments you made us do, when you were testing the formatting. You could use-"
"I'm not using old material." Bill interrupted. "And what do you mean the column won't suffer? The column features both of you. She's not on my pay-roll because I magically chose her from Eve in the street. And what about excuses for unmet deadlines? You either take her with you and have every column on my desk as usual, or you're not leaving this goddamn city without a lawsuit."
"She is coming with me." Jake had said quickly – and that was when I'd realised he wasn't kidding. "It's fine."
"Well, I sure as Hell ain't paying her expenses." Bill sniffed. "Can you handle that?" He was talking to me that time, but fear had gripped my stomach. I'd spent so much on the move, could I afford a plane ticket to England? Could I even afford one of those truffle subs they sold at the airport?
"It's all being taken care of by my family, Bill, honestly." Jake had reassured him, making me glare at him in shock. Wait. Did that mean his family was paying for my ticket? Because I mean, whilst my bank balance would love that, I couldn't just roll with that. Didn't he have enough going on, being the new Prince of England or whatever? "I'll email you as soon as we land. We leave tonight."
"So you expected me to say yes, huh?" Bill asked, narrowing his eyes shrewdly. Oh no. "It's a good think you're my golden child, Verity. If this one dies in the air, remember you have to find her replacement."
Oh, nice. The sad part was, I knew Bill wasn't even freaking kidding.
Anyway, after that, it had been crazy packing, giving the doorman all of our milk and emergency calls – from my side, anyway. Natalia had freaked when she'd found out.
"It's bad enough that you've left me in LA for my favourite columnist and would-be future husband if you and your annoying past hadn't muscled in-" I'd rolled my eyes. Nope, she still wasn't over it. "- but now you're disappearing off to England? What the Hell? I mean, why would you even be going on holiday with him if you weren't an item and you weren't telling me?!"
I'd spewed the usual lie – his Dad was sick, we had to be together for work. I didn't like lying to Natalia, but honestly – it wasn't my truth to tell. And the thought of Jake becoming even more "perfect" with his fancy-ass life in England wasn't exactly going to push Natalia's fantasies away any quicker or anything.
"You can't keep lying to everyone, you know. Hiding all your... Feelings, or whatever isn't good for you." I sighed as Jake buckled back in, the red light for belts flashing in front of us. "It's a big lie."
"My father will have died by our first night in England." Jake told me factually – before rubbing his face, as if he'd realised what he'd just said. Hey, I was still reeling. It was screwed up. "I just – I just don't understand it, Allie. I was out buying milk and cookies and he was – they were-"
"When I first spoke to Eleanor, she said your dad and your brother died on impact." I said quietly, feeling like a total asshole for telling him. I mean, he wanted to know, but that didn't make it any better. "Your nephew-"
"Ed." Jake gulped. "We called him Ed, but everyone else called him Lord Maltravers."
"Right." I nodded, wondering who in their right mind would name their kid Maltravers. It sounded like Maltesers, those chocolate ball things that Jake was always groaning about the US not having, despite the fact I'd Googled them and they sounded gross. "Ed was put into an induced coma, and they-"
"It doesn't make a difference though, does it, Allie?" Jake sighed, leaning back and pinching the bridge of his nose. I stopped talking. I probably should have a while ago. It was a motto I should live by, actually. "They died." Quieter this time – "They're all dead."
I looked out of the window, unsure of what to say. I just... I felt so helpless! It was bad enough if one family member was gone, but he'd lost three in one go and been bundled with all of this... Responsibility at the same time. Where did I even start with something like that?
And so, in typical American fashion – if something bad is happening, pretend it isn't.
"So, this whole... Lord stuff." I began, trying to smile as Jake lazily turned his head to face me. He suddenly looked... So… Tired. "Explain it to me. I'm just a stupid American, remember?"
"You're not stupid, Allie." Jake murmured – but I guess that was true, because he sat up a little and forced a smile. "Okay, so, my father is – was-" Jake flinched. "- the Duke of Norfolk. It's a title that's been passed down through the sons of my family for centuries, it's hereditary. He's given certain duties – and other titles, too. Like Lord Maltravers, Earl of Arundel, all of that." I nodded, pretending to understand. "When the Duke has a son, he is named heir and is given one of his father's lesser titles – it's called a courtesy title. Something to identify that, one day, he'll most likely succeed his father."
Okay, that made a little more sense. It was crazy in how it was basically all princes and royalty and basically life before the Boston Tea Party, but it was starting to piece together a little easier in my head.
"Go on."
"Courtesy, lesser titles are given in hierarchy." Jake continued. "Earl of Arundel is the title of the eldest son of the Duke, his successor – just the way Lord Maltravers is the title given to the first grandson of the Duke." Okay, got it. "The younger sons or daughters of the Duke are referred to as Lord or Lady, because of the family's status, but they don't inherit titles."
"That must've sucked." I mumbled, a part of me not quite believing I was pitying a… What? Lord? … God, this was weird. "I mean, you had a title, but everyone knew it wasn't the big one or whatever?"
"The contrary, actually." Jake admitted. "I thought myself lucky: I had the privilege of my family, but none of the responsibility. As long as I didn't do anything too rash or shameful for the family, I was allowed to do as I pleased, live my life how I wanted to. I was allowed to study abroad, move to New York." Jake shrugged, looking down. "Well, that's all changed now."
I don't know why I hadn't thought about it before. But then it hit me.
"Wait, so you can't live in New York anymore?" Oh no. He was the only reason I'd moved to New York in the first place! "Is that what you're trying to tell me, Jake?"
I could tell by Jake's guilty expression that he'd been hoping I wouldn't ask that.
"Allie-" He began, but I shook my head, covering my face. Then what the Hell was I here for? Oh my God. Okay, so I knew I was being selfish in the face of what Jake was going through, but – well, Bill found me totally disposable! He'd said that himself in lesser words, today. In terms of my life. What the Hell was my job to him?! Jake sighed. "Allie... You can't call me that here. At least, not unless we're alone."
I took a deep breath and tried not to look too psychotic.
"What are you talking about?"
"Jake got left behind the moment we left American airspace." If I didn't know any better, I'd say that Jake sounded bitter. And, you know, super dramatic. "I'm Sebastian again now."
It was amazing. I was normally someone who couldn't shut up but for the second time in the space of two days, I suddenly didn't have a damned thing to say.
. . .
I'd changed into something a little smarter than jeans and a hoodie by the time we landed. I was in jeans still, but I'd changed into some black boots and a grey sweater. It wasn't exactly mourning attire, but it was the best I'd had at such short notice that could handle travel.
Jake – sorry, Sebastian – was already outside when I left the jet, talking to someone. I could hear the beginning of their conversation as I walked over, not really sure what I was meant to do.
Also, fun fact - it was freaking freezing. My first time in England and I was already freezing my metaphorical balls off.
"Nick, you shouldn't be here." Sebastian, Sebastian – looked horrified, glancing over at some more guys in black suits - was this a thing? A throwback to Men in Black or something? Was I really being this much of an asshole right now? - by a fancy looking black town car. Did they even call it that here? Damn it. I was freaking out. I couldn't freak out. Why was I freaking out?! "If anyone finds out-"
"Seb, you're one of our oldest friends, you're lucky that it's just me. Everyone would be here to welcome you, if they could." Oh my God, it was like the entire universe was trying to prove me wrong in that people could sound more English than someone like Eleanor, who sounded like she was off a British 70's news reel. "I couldn't give less of a damn about etiquette at this point. How are-" The guy – whose face I hadn't seen – stopped, glancing at me over Sebastian's shoulder.
Oh my God, this guy was hot.
No, like, there was Logan kind of hot and this kind of hot. This was the kind of hot Logan was an imitation of.
He had dark brown hair, bright blue eyes... He was tall with broad shoulders and he was in a black suit and tie and oh wow, I mean... WOW, like really... Really, wow.
Hot damn.
"Oh, sorry – this is… Miss Finsbury, she's a - a work colleague of mine." I'll admit, that got through the hormonal fog I'd just wandered off into. Work colleague? What the Hell did that mean? "Alison, this is… Ah-" Why the Hell did Jake - Sebastian, damn it - look so awkward? What? Was this an old "work colleague" too? "… His Highness, Prince Nick."
I couldn't help it. I burst out laughing. Now the "work colleague" thing made sense.
"Okay, if I hadn't gotten into the habit of working out whether you're kidding or not with that accent, I would have fallen for that." I laughed, punching Prince Nick's arm. Sounded like something out of a Disney movie. "Nice going, stranger! Though that's a good first impression. Come on, what's your real name?" I smiled expectantly. "Prince of England my ass." I laughed again. Wow. I guess the English made up for the weather with their warmth in hospitality.
I rolled my eyes again as Nick, as Seb had called him, glanced at his friend as if he found something funny.
Sebastian's – or "Seb"'s" – friend opened his mouth to speak, but that was when another car drew up, a fancy-ass Range Rover that made me feel like white trash to even be in its presence.
We all stopped – including Jake, no, Sebastian, for fuck's sake -, who seemed to tense as the shotgun door opened and a tall, middle-aged lady stepped outside.
I figured it was bad because of how serious Sebastian's face suddenly got.
Eleanor.
"Lord Sebastian." Eleanor nodded, glancing over to me and pursing her lips a little. I didn't know people still did that this side of the century. "Miss Finsbury." And then, seeing our new friend, Eleanor… Looked terrified. Really terrified. And then… Curtseyed? "Your Highness!"
… Oh, Christ on a stick.
"You're…" I looked over at Sebastian, who was smiling through what I figured was his pain. Eleanor had reminded him where we were, why we were here. "He's… He's really the… I mean…?"
"Nicholas Edevane." Nick - no, wait, Prince fucking Nicholas of fucking England - said, offering me his hand. Oh, Hell no. No, no. "Prince is optional for the most part, I promise."
I laughed, but it came out more like I was a dying cat.
Great. Wonderful. Who doesn't want to sound like a dying cat when meeting a fucking Prince?
I shook his hand. I almost died.
And then winced as soon as I thought of it, because damn, that was an inappropriate thing to think right now.
. . .
I kind of kept quiet and out of the way as Eleanor and His Highness - bleeeergh, I was going to have cringe attacks about that fifty years later - exchanged… I don't know, niceties on the weather? Whatever. But pretty soon, everyone was leaving.
"A pleasure, Miss Finsbury." He'd nodded, before walking off. I'd managed a hoarse see ya - because of course that's what you say to a prince! - before I was bundled in the car.
I knew I should have been paying more attention to what Eleanor was saying, for J - Sebastian's sake, but honestly, I had a lot on my mind and Eleanor's accent was hard to understand when she was talking so fast.
I'd had the good sense to upgrade my cell phone contract to extend to international data and crap like that on the way to the airport, so while Sebastian - God, what a mouthful. Was it too much for me to just say Seb? Or was that just preserved for Prince Nick? - and Eleanor sat huddled in the corner, dealing with stuff I would have been a better friend for helping for, I tried to mind my own business instead. Anyway, I was only Sebastian's work colleague, right? Fitch was my friend.
Which was weird, because Jake Verity, Fitch… Those weren't people I knew, not really. What the Hell did I do with that? I'd known Jake for so long. We'd been friends for so long. But he was from this whole other world that I knew not even a little bit about. Not even a little.
And I wanted to know, I did! But I didn't want to throw questions at him. He had enough going on without explaining it all to me, but - I guess… Work colleague? I wasn't the one causing a drift. He was the one telling me my place was firmly in New York with Jake Verity, or Fitch in Seattle. Not Sebastian Hollingsworth.
But in all of that, wasn't I being harsh? I mean, we'd just been talking to the Prince of England. The Prince of England! That was the kind of thing people joked about… Somewhere, or would do if I ever got drunk enough to tell someone and think they'd believe me. What would you call me if we suddenly met the Prince of England? It could be the new, European version of relationship labelling!
Plus, on top of all of that, I was feeling weird and awkward and inadequate and, you know, absolutely terrified. I'd just met the Prince of England on the tarmac. What the Hell was next?
Even with his whole speech on the plane ride here, Sebastian - who was basically a different person to the friend I'd gotten on the plane with - had majorly underplayed this whole Duke thing. And even if he hadn't, I couldn't just take his word for it! Especially after seeing he was goddamn friends with the Prince of England. I'd feel too stupid to ask.
So I was going to have to get to grips, with at least some of this, by myself.
God bless Google.
I hadn't been paying enough attention to Eleanor to hear what she'd been saying about where we were headed - did Sebastian have anything to do? Or did Jake want some time off? Great, I sounded like a nut-job already, calling him two different people -, but looking out the window, it didn't look promising. We were in a bleary looking town, and I'd spotted a library and a pub, but we'd quickly gotten onto the highway. Grey tarmac, dull skies. If I were more confident, I'd say I fit in as part of the wallpaper already. The pretty thing was all the fields we were driving by, lush and green and countryside looking - but I was a city girl at heart, so that was adjectival as I was going to get.
So… Who did I Google first?
I figured the guy himself, who was currently looking stressed and looking at something on Eleanor's laptop screen. Laptop. Wow. It was weird to think she lived in the 21st century. I guess I'd kind of expected her to be using a typewriter.
I was an ass.
Stupidly, I actually started typing in Jake Verity first. I got so far as the first "e" before realising that was stupid. I mean, what was I going to find exactly? A profile on Natalia's favourite columnist? Which reminded me I had to text Natalia and my Mom to say I was in England safe, which I quickly did, but then went back to my Googling (that was a verb, right? Ever since this stupid job, I'd become my own grammar Nazi).
I hesitated once I finished typing the name. Sebastian Hollingsworth.
Google came up with three auto predictions.
sebastian verity hollingsworth
sebastian verity hollingsworth lord
sebastian verity hollingsworth norfolk
Promising.
I hit enter… And screw the latest Google update, because a damn mini Wiki profile came up as the first result.
Except it wasn't Sebastian's.
Philip Lewis Hollingsworth, 19th Duke of Norfolk
Earl Marshal
Philip Lewis Hollingsworth, 19th Duke of Norfolk, DL, styled Duke of Arundel, is a British peer and Earl Marshal of England… more
Born: 8th June 1959 (aged 57)
Spouse: Emily Verity-Hollingsworth, Duchess of Norfolk (m. 1982)
Siblings: Lady Nicoletta Hollingsworth more
Children: Jonathan Marcus Lewis Verity-Hollingsworth, Earl of Arundel more
I stopped there, scrolling down to the first link and following the bold.
Philip Lewis Hollingsworth, 19th Duke of Norfolk
… Children, Jonathan Marcus Lewis Verity-Hollingsworth, Earl of Arundel, Lord William Charles Sebastian Verity-Hollingsworth…
Okay. So the Dad had a Wikipage. That wasn't intimidating at all.
It got worse. I tried to skip through the actual stuff about his Dad - whose name, by the way, had brought up search results in the News section, which I didn't want to think about -, because it was intimidating, but there was barely anything on Sebastian himself. A fleeting mention as Lord in the Personal Life section, but that was it. No hyperlink, which was impressive really, seeing as he was a successful journalist. How did nobody know that yet? Apart from me?
His brother, though… Little Ed's Dad, Jonathan. He had a whole Wikipage.
It said he was thirty-one. There would be closed brackets after his birthday, 11th of March 1985, soon.
I blinked back tears. I was being stupid. Sebastian may not need me, but Jake sure didn't need the stress of his buddy crying for him.
I went back to the 19th Duke's page - I couldn't bear to think of him as Fitch's Dad -, and read how he was Earl Marshal. It was in blue. I tapped it.
Apparently it was this ceremonial thing… Something to do with announcing the King and stuff like that. The Dukedom - that was what they called it - was this really old thing. The Dukes of Norfolk were all Catholic, which wasn't something I'd ever known about Jake - then again, we'd never exactly discussed his thoughts on religion.
But it was clear that being the Duke of Norfolk was a big deal. Like, a huge deal. Somehow, after lots of clicking - like when you're shamefully stalking someone and you're six accounts in on Instagram of people you don't actually know -, it showed me a fancy tree. In England - not the United Kingdom, because apparently that was an important difference here - the Duke of Norfolk was, like, the top dude. The big guy. You had to call him a title - Your Grace. It was the only type of Duke that wasn't already a Prince or something like that.
What had Jake said to Eleanor, back in the apartment? Please don't call me Your Grace… I mean, the Wikipages were confusing, but if that was for the Duke - and Jake had said that was what he was now - did that mean Ed being in the coma meant nothing? That everything went straight to Jake-?
I looked up at him. Weirdly, he didn't look that different. A little tired under the eyes, his face a little tense, but that was expected, and I could see it more, right, because I was his room-mate? There had been a picture next to the mini-profile of the 19th Duke, of a man in a formal portrait picture in a suit and tie.
Was that going to be Jake soon?
It was scary.
Next. I didn't want to know any more until… Sebastian told me.
Time for my next lesson - the British royal family. I'd already embarrassed myself in front of one of them.
Straight into Google Images, the pride and joy of Google - british royal family.
… Oh, God, they were beautiful.
I was not kidding. This family won the lottery in terms of the genetic gene pool - a Mom with light brown hair and green eyes, a better figure than I'd ever have; a Dad with jet black hair and blue eyes; and then a goddamn legion of beautiful robots, because there was no way these people were real. Or not heavily Photoshopped.
My eyes couldn't take anymore.
Google: prince nick
Prince Nicholas, Duke of York & Albany
Prince Nicholas, Duke of York & Albany, is the youngest son to King Richard V and Queen Consort Emily of the United Kingdom and Commonwealth.
Full name: Nicholas Julian Richard
Just how many of them were there?
I clicked on King Richard's page, ignoring the stuff about how super powerful and famous he was, and going straight to his list of children. There were three.
Issue of King Richard V:
Prince James, Prince of Wales
Princess Millie, Princess Royal
Prince Nicholas, Duke of York & Albany
Great. I'd punched the Duke of York and Albany, which I was assuming was not the Canadian version, in the arm this morning.
They all sounded like such a blast. And yeah, I was being sarcastic, except for Princess Millie. Her real name was Emilia. At least she was chilled out about the whole thing.
I kept at my digging. Prince Nicholas was - and here was the shocker - only twenty years old. He was a baby. A frat boy, or he would be, in other circles. I'd assumed he was close buddies with Sebastian, but if he was four years younger, I couldn't imagine them hanging out all that much after he'd come out to live in Seattle.
Against my better judgement, I decided to take a better look at the family portrait. I'd been intimidated by the pretty eyes and dark hair before, but this time, I needed to… Get it.
Apparently, Prince James and Princess Millie were twins - and Sebastian's age.
Screw Bill and his columnist job, I was clearly a detective.
Princess Millie was cute - and I meant that. Green eyes, dark brown hair, and she had this whole British thing going for her. Not that I could explain how that worked, but it did.
But Sebastian had gone to Eton, which was a guy's school - why was I actively looking for his ties to the British royal family? What was my life? What had I become? - so, unless Princess Millie had pulled a trick like in that Amanda Bynes movie, I couldn't see them being super close.
Though, Prince Nicholas - I just could not call him Prince Nick again, not in my head or outside of it, I'd seen his freaking detailed Wikipage - had said everyone on the tarmac earlier. So maybe they were all super close.
God.
Was this how it worked? Everyone with a castle was buddies?
"We're here." I jerked up at Sebastian's voice. It was easier to remember to call Jake Sebastian when he sounded like that - so… Serious, so solemn.
It wasn't like he didn't have a reason to be.
I looked out of the window… And almost died.
Again.
Because we were driving through a stone gateway and up ahead, even though next to us was this grass hilltop, was a grey castle like something out of the movies. Made of stone and with turrets and towers - was that what they were even called? - and the tiny thin windows and the triangular glass windows and an open roof at the top.
"This… This is your home?" I managed to choke out. No. Come on, now. Jake had lived in a decent suburban place in Seattle, next door to me. Our neighbourhood wasn't exactly fancy. Nice, sure, and suburban, but nothing like… This. We hadn't even been the richest neighbourhood!
But, without realising I was about to puke, Sebastian nodded, looking up at it. God. How long and it been since he was even here?
"This is home." He said. I felt sick. "Welcome to Arundel Castle."
. . .
We got separated once we were inside.
Just, by the way? This castle thing was legit. It wasn't like other castles, where you figured maybe there were a couple of fancy rooms on display and everything else was empty - this was the real deal. There were portraits of Fitch's ancestors - Fitch, because when he looked so sad with a brave face, I couldn't think of him as the stranger Sebastian - lining the walls. Freaking swords hung up on the walls, and fancy artworks and high ceilings and pieces of furniture and vases and shit like that, that looked as if it had come off of the Titanic or in a palace. Which, I guess this place kind of was.
It was freaky, seeing how confidently Fitch walked around the place. He was… Sebastian. Of course he knew his way around, this was his home, but - his home had been next door to mine in Seattle, and it had been nothing like this. That's why, after seeing him like that, I decided I wouldn't call him Sebastian. I understood why I couldn't call him Jake, but - he'd always been Fitch, even before he'd been Jake. I couldn't keep treating him like a stranger. it was too easy to forget that the guy who had grown up in Arundel Castle was my friend.
We walked under high Gothic ceilings and wood panelling down every corridor and I think, at one point, even past an armoury room, but soon we were turning into a little room that, upon entering, I actually realised was a chapel.
Eleanor pulled me towards a small staircase at the back, while Fitch went to meet everyone. There weren't tons of people there - a handful of people, all dark-haired, which I noticed mainly because Fitch's blonde hair stuck out like a halo -, but I watched down from a balcony at the top. Kind of like queens would, in the old days I guess, if this place was that old.
It really was beautiful. There were these giant windows to the side, all stained glass, and everything was dark. There were this beautiful arches and domed ceilings and even me, person to talk the most in every situation, felt like this place needed quiet. There were a handful of chairs in front of the altar.
"Where's the b- his family?" I asked Eleanor, quietly, too, which was a change for me.
"This is the private, family chapel." Eleanor told me. Right. Because people didn't call private chapels in their homes private, right? Then again, it wasn't like I was well versed in castle tradition, so maybe I was just showing how inadequate I was feeling. "There's a public ceremony at the formal chapel, on the grounds. It's attached to the town church and people want to come and pay their respects." Eleanor's voice had wavered. "The late Duke and Earl of Arundel were very popular."
I'd teared up. This was horrible.
"In fact, we'd better follow the party." Eleanor had sniffed, seeing Fitch was leaving. I nodded, going towards the staircase - but Eleanor had shaken her head and so I'd stood, waiting, for everyone to go ahead.
Everyone…
"Isn't that Prince Nicholas?" I tried to hiss. To be subtle. He was standing behind Fitch. Fitch had glanced over at me and given me a sad smile… Maybe I shouldn't have agreed to this trip. I didn't want to be another thing for Fitch to worry about me. But without me here, who would worry about Fitch? Just Fitch, not the new Duke? "Do the royal family always come out for things like this?"
"… No." Eleanor said. "In fact, it would be unseemly for them to come to a Duke not of royal blood's funeral."
"But-"
"But this is the private funeral." Eleanor carried on as if I hadn't even talked. Which, in her head, I hadn't because it was probably a dumb question by a dumb American. "And the Princes and His Grace have always been so close. When there is the memorial service in Westminster, the King and Queen will be represented by other figures."
"Will Prince Nicholas be there?" Eleanor looked at me like she'd kill me. Great. "Not for that reason - though he is cute-" No reaction. Right. "- I just mean, if they're so close, can't they make an exception? How can the King and Queen just forget-"
"The Hollingsworth family has been in service to the Crown for the past several generations." Eleanor told me coldly. Oh, God. "I think they are better judges of their relationship than you, Miss Fins-"
"Oh, you can just call me Allie!"
"Miss Finsbury." Eleanor had said. I'd shut up after that.
Everything else was kind of a blur.
We walked out to the grounds - out of the fancy ass corridor, out of the super fancy doors that were huge and scary, and down a little stone path. Past the super fancy hilltop that there was probably a super fancy name for, over the gravel path where the car had gone - where had it gone? - and further up, and into a turning into a cute little garden where there was a little stone chapel and inside there were inscriptions behind glass and it was bare and weird and then there was the Hollingsworth Chapel, as according to the little plaque.
I kind of stopped when we walked into the main chapel.
There were rows of stone figures, like the type you saw in crypts in old movies to do with knights and princesses, and were there wasn't stone carvings of the people buried inside, there were little plaques on the floor with names. People were filling into the little seats at the end. There was a glass wall, like Eleanor said, where people were watching.
The altar - was that even the word for it - there was a giant stain-glass window. It was behind me, and the glass wall was across. On either side of the altar were these really fancy, carved stone… Areas, I guess? It looked older than the entire building. There were little seats to sit in, too, carved out. Fitch sat at one of them.
I was freaking out.
There were just… Rows and rows of these stone tombs and - what century were we living in? Because Fitch was in the black suit he'd changed into on the plane, but I felt like I was in another century. The people on the other side of the glass wall were sad, some of them were crying - and there was a room, a room opposite me that I could see into, that scared me. It looked like a tomb, with full-size statues like they were lying on tables, but cut off and a little deeper than everything else - and sunlight streamed in but it was so closed off from everything else, that it felt like it belonged to a different world. It probably did.
As we walked in, I saw the two coffins. Both black. Both were on the far end, under the stone carving canopy things. Fitch sat next to them like he'd passed out.
It was closed casket. Oh, God, how bad had this car accident been?
The priest started the funeral mass - that was what it was called, right? God, I didn't even know. I'd never paid attention to being Christian and I hadn't even known Fitch was Catholic, let alone Catholic enough to have two chapels - and everything faded away. Eleanor pushed me into a corner with her, and I heard people sniffling - and some people crying - and then a woman came in and Fitch stood up and she was crying and they were hugging tightly, and oh God, that was Fitch's brother's wife, the one with her kid Ed in hospital -
"I have to see if he's okay." I didn't even realise I was talking. "I - I have to-"
"I don't think that's appropriate, Miss Finsbury-"
"I'm his friend, I need to check he's okay, I - it's so awful, I can't just sit here and do nothing and-"
"Miss Finsbury." Looking back, I'd remember she'd looked nervous as she'd touched my arm - I wasn't talking loud, but I was still standing up in my little corner and the people from the private chapel were beginning to look - and that maybe she'd shown me she was human in that one second, though I was too freaked out to see it. There was just - there was just so much going on. Poor Fitch, in his castle with all these people and ceremonies - but this was normal to him and that wasn't the Fitch I knew, and I knew I was being selfish, but I'd moved away from LA for this guy, I'd changed my whole world for this guy, based on our friendship, on trust, and I didn't even know him and didn't know how to help and - "Miss Finsbury, the best thing we can all do is hope this goes on smoothly. His Grace won't want a scene-"
"I'm not trying to make one, I just - he can't be by himself, he shouldn't have to do this alone-"
"He isn't." Eleanor said firmly, though again, I'd realise later that she sounded human. "He has you here. But you can't do anything for him now, Miss Finsbury. Not right now."
So I'd nodded, and I sat through the whole thing.
Halfway through, I started crying. I didn't even know why I chose that moment, I just… It was awful, it was all so awful, and it was so much and the fact I thought that when it wasn't even anything to do with me just made me feel worse.
At the end, everyone on our side - our side, I did not belong here - of the glass wall went over to Fitch and his sister-in-law to pay their respects again. Apparently the chapel would empty out before he could leave.
I saw Prince Nicholas go up with the rest of his family - which was a joke, I mean, come on - but there was one guy, a tall guy with hair much darker than Prince Nicholas', whose face I didn't see because he was hugging Fitch so hard. I looked around. There weren't so many people around now - I hadn't even realised how many people had started heading back to - where? The castle? -, and I saw this guy shake Fitch by the arms a little, talking to him quietly about something.
He was doing what I should have been doing. But somehow, I knew I was at the back of the line.
"Eleanor, who's that guy? Talking to Fi - Sebastian?"
"That's His Highness, Prince James."
I was done. I was so done.
Fitch had his friends around him - his real friends. Friends who knew him.
"Can you show me to my room, please, Eleanor?" I asked, hoping she'd get it was what I needed. Eleanor just watched me. "I… Its been a long morning and Sebastian has a lot to deal with, I don't want to get in the way."
"You can't call him by his name here. You have to call him Your Grace, or-" Eleanor stopped, her face melting from the icy cold expression she'd kept on since she'd landed. Couldn't she see I was trying? "- of course. Follow me."
I slipped out. Fitch didn't see me.
Then the very worst of it happened - we stepped out of Hollingsworth Chapel and, on our way back up to the castle, I saw photographers hanging around by the stone gateway we'd driven through earlier.
"Is this what it's like for him? What it's going to be?"
Eleanor didn't answer me properly.
"Come along, Miss Finsbury."
I'd only been around for a few hours and already, I felt like I was drowning. If he said this was normal and this was home - then she said to get outta town. Which was exactly what I felt like I should do, because this felt way too much like falling down the goddamn rabbit hole.