A Slow Paced Envy (10/15)
Monday, July 17th, 2023 20:46![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fumblingmusingsA study of a potential Female England characterisation. Snapshots through the years showing how and where her attempts at parenthood and romance run dissonant to the reality of being the motherland of the world's largest empire. There's a lot of people in her head who don't belong there, and it soon becomes everyone else's problem.
Also available on Ao3.
Chapter Ten: 1891-1898, or the end of Splendid Isolationism
Dresden, Germany
“You’ve spoken to Italy?”
“Personally? No. Rarely do people come to see me. I no longer know if it is because they cannot get past my handlers or they just do not care.”
“Ah. You are being sarcastic.”
“...If you say so.”
Holding a white parasol, England turned to inspect the Parade of Princes, lining the path down to the bridge at Dresden. It was her first time in the city. Reluctantly, a little bitterly, she was impressed. Her own cities had their grand spaces, of course, but the air had become so filthy that smog prevented any loveliness from peering through the dark.
London sagged under the weight of its own growth - too fast, too unclean, too crowded. At least the sanitation acts had done their job. For those that had running water in the first place.
She had no beautiful riverside city of this scale. Liverpool and Newcastle were working ports; Manchester and Leeds cities of mill towers and markets; Birmingham was just as choked as London. It was her older cities, York, Oxford, Bath, Canterbury and others, that remained her beauties, and yet they could not match the size and scope of Germany’s city centres of Cologne and Munich and Leipzig. Evelyn was unabashedly jealous, and Ludwig knew it. She was small. Always had been. She felt safe in small.
England stared at the fresco, detailing each of Saxony’s leaders over seven hundred and fifty years. She recognised none of them, so little involvement she’d had with Saxony over her years.
“Ah. He asked me to ask you on his behalf,” Ludwig began. “It isn’t that I’m reluctant to do so, I think he should ask himself, but well. I think he is rather frightened of you.”
“Me?” she cackled. “What on Earth can I have possibly done to Feliciano to make him afraid of me? Aside from providing him with mediocre food. By his standards, of course. My food is perfectly pleasant.”
Ludwig smiled, but did not say much more. He could have taken Evelyn’s arm if he so wished, and enjoyed a walk along the Elbe, and forget any sort of instructions given to him by the Kaiser. But he had a job to do, as awkward as he knew it would be.
Evelyn looked back at him, feeling very out of place without an arm to guide her. Her handsome date often kept his hands to himself, a stickler for proprietaries and decorum, more than England could ever hope to be. He seemed to be comfortable with things at a distance, and England, not emotionally open enough herself, was unable to crack him.
She very much wanted to be kissed by him. Evelyn had not been kissed for… a long time. She wanted someone to call her sweet names, to brush her hair away from her neck, to smile whenever she entered a room. Ludwig… Ludwig probably needed someone to take that first step. So the pair continued an awkward dance, neither quite sure what the other thought of them.
Her children had not cured her loneliness. It was not their fault. They were utterly perfect, all of them. The fault lay with Evelyn, and her greed. She knew this, and yet that did not stop her from wanting.
Sometimes, she thought she caught Ludwig looking at her as if she were something lovely to have. But when she turned the look would be gone, and what was left was a puzzled uncertainty. The look of someone who, after twenty years, was still trying to understand what he was supposed to be feeling.
More and more, Evelyn understood that it was less Ludwig being indecisive in his character - the man practically revelled in the making of plans - and more that no-one had told him how to feel about the island nation in front of him. She had not managed to make herself worth standing by him in his eyes. She felt that, if tomorrow his foolish Emperor told Ludwig to hate her, he would, out of some bizarre patriotic duty.
Ludwig was very good at following instructions. Evelyn worried at the expense of his own individuality.
Case and point, him doing as requested for Italy.
“What did Feli want you to ask me?”
“For your help in the Mediterranean. I think he hopes that you can come to an agreement regarding North Africa and France.”
Evelyn groaned, recognising where the conversation was heading. She stepped away and slowly walked towards the bridge. It was a gloriously sunny day, and she hid in the shade of her parasol, feeling as though she stuck out like a sore thumb in such a beautiful city.
“Tell him no,” she said blithely.
Ah. And with that, Ludwig had his instructions.
England continued, utterly unaware that she had sealed her own misery with such a quick and easy answer. She giggled, complaining further, “I don’t understand where these rumours keep coming from regarding your Triple Alliance and myself, but I have no appetite for being used as a ping pong ball between Francis and Feliciano of all people. He’s always asking for the world you know? It’s frankly rather tiresome. Diplomacy is not a skill of his.”
“He can be… demanding,” Ludwig admitted. “Exhausting. Exacerbating. I can see why Roderich found him so difficult when he was growing up.”
“And yet, he has his moments of brilliance,” she stated, surprised that she found herself defending the spoilt boy.
She turned around, waiting for Germany to rejoin her. He did so slowly, squinting in the bright sunlight. In her white and red dress, she was rather pretty today. Sometimes, oftentimes, she did not have the energy to dress formally or nicely, or so Ludwig had heard, preferring plain woollen and linen clothes over silk. She was making an effort for him, wearing cotton and lace. She had not much changed in the years since he had met her in the field hospital. Still rather sick looking, but she held her back straight. Her hair was getting messier and messier by the day however. There was no softness about her, anything round and curved was in the clothes she wore, and not in her features. Today she was wearing opals on her fingers and earlobes. She was supposed to be forever seen in pearls, housing an extensive collection of centuries old pieces, but Ludwig had never seen them on her.
“Italy has the skill for art and music, and not much else,” he explained.
Evelyn frowned. “That is more than enough. None of us can be everything to everyone.”
She certainly sounded like a mother there. Ludwig snorted.
“He has no discipline and his laziness”-
“Ludwig,” she interrupted, being bold and patting his forearm. “I did not travel seven hundred miles to discuss Feliciano with you. In fact, I really do not wish to talk about politics at all. Is that why you invited me? I thought…”
England’s sharp features shifted into something of a perfect poker face, a warning for his answer to be very carefully chosen. “Why did you invite me here?” she asked. “Please tell me it was for the pleasure of my company? Or… Or more?”
“We have dallied around for too long,” he stated, pulling at his coat, smartening himself up unnecessarily. “My intent was dependent on your answer to Italy’s proposal. You have given it, now we may speak plainly.”
“In what way?”
“In many things.”
Feeling like a foolish schoolgirl, Evelyn’s pulse fluttered. She smiled, taking down her parasol. Her pale flaxen hair, frizzy and not entirely pinned correctly, shined in the warm light. She tilted her head up expectantly.
“You must be more explicit. German frankness is what I expect from you.”
Ludwig chewed his lip. This was going to be awful.
“The Kaiser sees that France and Russia are moving closer together. Which is the opposite of what I wanted.”
England twitched, virulent hatred rearing its head for a split second before she managed to recapture her emotions. Fine. Politics it was.
“Yes. Francis will never be a pariah. Honestly you were foolish to try and engineer such a thing. But. Is this really why you invited me?” Evelyn repeated.
“They have no love for you,” he stated. “As a matter of fact, no-one in Europe thinks kindly of you.”
Her pale face grew even whiter, and Ludwig cringed at his cruel words.
“Except you?” Evelyn asked, laughing without humour. “Is that what you are saying? That I have alienated Portugal and Greece and Denmark and the Netherlands? That Belgium does not trust me? Perfidious Albion? You genuinely believe that I am more duplicitous than Ivan or Francis or… or Alfred.”
Her odd rictus smile collapsed.
Ludwig side stepped her retort. Her eldest boy was a funny topic for her, one he had learned not to bring up.
“Our treaty for Heligoland was well done, and you have never… We have yet to quarrel.”
England was rather gobsmacked. “You say that and yet you’re building a huge naval base at Heligoland as we speak. Why do you need a navy to match mine? We indeed have nothing to quarrel over! I have no wish to quarrel with anyone in Europe.”
“I disagree.”
“Oh!” she groaned, stabbing the end of her parasol into the ground, as if grinding out her frustration, she resisted the urge to strangle the obtuse man in front of her. “What does that mean? I do not understand. You were content to leave a European peace alone, as am I, or did Bismarck’s endless treaties mean nothing to you? And yet, ever since he was removed, I cannot make sense of what you want. So tell me, please, what do you want? What do you want from me?”
“My foreign office-”
“For God’s sake Ludwig! I don’t care about your fat Kaiser or your men in suits with stupid facial hair! I am asking you , what do you want from me ?”
He looked very sad, and quite red in the face.
“I think I know what you desire more than I understand my own thoughts and feelings on this matter.”
England shook her head. “Oh please, enlighten me as to what that is?”
“You are being sarcastic again.”
Her anger faded, a sad depressed exhalation followed. She stared at her feet hidden under her dress.
“Ludwig… I want to be important to you. The most important. For us to look at each other with affection and admiration. Not jealousy and envy.”
“I know.”
A beat passed. Then, Evelyn spoke,“You do not wish it to be so, however. Do you?”
His silence was her answer. She laughed again, resigned, miserable. At least Ludwig looked uncomfortable.
“I do not know,” he replied simply. “But I know that my Emperor is too…”
“Mercurial,” England said.
“Changeable. I must follow where he leads, which means maintaining personal relationships will be very hard. I do not want to put you through strain for the sake of no promise at the end of it all.”
Evelyn’s chest ached. He didn’t care enough for her to fight for her, and was presenting such a fact as a kindness.
She continued to push her parasol deep into the ground, pushing all of her heartbreak and frustrations down. Down. The loneliness would remain then. For how long was she to endure it? Not forever surely. No. Maybe just another millennia.
There was little comfort to be had in such a thought, so she clenched her jaw, and decided to hold her head high. She did what she did best, and began to lecture the young nation in front of her.
“That is very dangerous. You are your people, not a King. You must see what the others say of you, Ludwig. The ship of state is being steered off course. It is inevitable from time to time. To be one of us is to find ways to endure it, sometimes fight it, if you are brave and resourceful enough, but never to accept it wholeheartedly.”
“That is not what I have been taught.”
She sneered. “I am older than Gilbert and Roderich both. I would take my advice on this.”
“...I will consider your thoughts.”
“Ludwig-”
“I think it would be best if I walked you back to your hotel now. I will pay for your journey home, so you don’t need to worry about that,” he interrupted, awkward and unwilling to let the conversation drag on.
She twitched, suppressing a lip quiver. And people believed her to be cold…
“But I wanted to… I thought. Why did you invite me out here?” she asked a final time.
Ludwig swallowed. “I thought sending you a letter was cowardly. If you had agreed to Italy’s proposal, I believe our conversation would have gone differently.”
“You speak as if it means nothing to you either way.”
“As I said. I do not know what I feel for you. Truly.”
She stared. “Well. No one would ever accuse you of being a coward, Ludwig.” Evelyn trailed off, then turned, glaring at the sun. “Very well. We tried and failed. Is it far to the hotel? I am quite tired. The heat is exhausting.”
Ludwig sighed, feeling relief that he seemed to have avoided a major diplomatic incident. Gilbert had implied that it would not be beyond England to throw a tantrum, screaming and crying to get her way. As it was, she cared too much about how strangers in a foreign country viewed her to rock the metaphorical boat. To Ludwig, who had never been particularly intuitive to the feelings of others, he thought she had accepted the end of their slow and tentative friendship - courtship - rather well. To Evelyn, her overriding desire was to be left alone so she could properly accept and mourn what had just happened. God forbid she let herself openly weep in front of Ludwig. She may have wanted him to think fondly on her, but that did not mean she ever trusted him. There was much she wanted to say, to yell and slap and kick, but she pushed it down, alongside her misery, as she could see no long term gain from the action.
No. Better for him to think she did not care deeply either.
Already her grief was morphing into hate, the spiteful little thing that she was, as she glared at the back of Ludwig’s handsome blond head, wishing nothing more than to shove him into the river, or under one of his stupid trains.
Testing the waters with Europe had been a mistake.
*****
Edinburgh, Scotland
“You’ve been requested to go on a trip?” England asked, taking the piece of thin paper from Scotland. In return he pinched the book she had on her lap, a compilation of Conan Doyle stories.
Alasdair sighed, seeing words he had enjoyed dozens of times before, then set the volume aside, leaning back in the sun, eyes closed, freckles stark against pale skin. Evelyn read the memo, then looked at her brother. Sitting in the gardens in the shadow of his great tower dedicated to Walter Scott, the pair were absorbing what little sun they were allowed. Alasdair was darker - or rather, redder - than his sister, owing to his frequent travels and working outside. He had spent some time in India this past year, the skin on his shoulders still recovering from the bright burning light.
“Japan?” England gasped as she read the note. “You’ve been invited?”
“Well. Technically we’ve been invited, but I’ll go on our behalf. They’re putting the final stamp on a new treaty, though it won’t be ratified for a wee while yet.”
“May I go?”
Alasdair peered at his sister, suspicious. “‘May’ you go? What?”
“I have never been.”
“I’m aware. Neither have I. But it’s still not friendly to foreigners there, or did you forget the Tsarevich getting his face hacked off?”
Evelyn snorted. “It was only one sword slash, and I am sure he probably deserved it. And I’d have no intention of travelling far. I would just like to meet him - Japan that is. You can keep me on the boat if you wish. Use the excuse to see Hong Kong and Singapore? Maybe go down to Sydney? Can we manage Wellington too?”
“Oh, so now we’re going on holiday?”
“Why not?” She pushed at Scotland’s shoulder, a laugh bursting out of her. Alasdair swallowed a smile, feeling nostalgic for a time spent nearly eight hundred years ago, when Evelyn had sought comfort after the Normans had invaded and ruined her, desperate to see her Anglo-Saxon princesses on his throne. They used to support each other. For a time. They still did, when they were allowed.
Evelyn complained, “Why can’t we go where we want? Rosebury and the rest of the Liberals will not care a whit, he’s too stupid to notice. I’ve behaved so well these past decades, they’ve backed off.”
“Dinnae think we've missed you taking laudanum still. And you smoke too much now.”
“I have it under control. Not in front of company, and only when I cannot sleep.”
“You never can sleep.”
Evelyn ignored him, pushing, “I so wish to travel again. It’s been so long since I left Europe.”
“Splendid Isolation, eh?”
“Boring isolation. Ali, please. Let me come too. Jan and Gabriel are the only two who knew him, before Alfred kicked the metaphorical door down.”
“A recluse.”
“Mm.” She fingered the paper. “I will take gifts. If this treaty is between equal states, it should come with a gift.”
Alasdair fell backwards into the grass, hands up behind his head with his eyes closed. He had not denied her the request, so she knew she would get her way.
“What will you take? We’ve never had much to offer.”
“Rude.” She leaned over him, picking up the book to wave it in his face. “Do we not have the most wonderful words? Stories and poems and songs, or is this great monument behind us just for show? Let us share them.”
Alasdair stared at his sister. “I dinnae think he will be in much of a mood for literature.”
“Why?”
“They say war is coming between him, China, and Korea. It will not end well.”
“Does it ever?” she asked.
“You’re being morbid.”
“All the more reason for a holiday.”
He sighed, then waved her away. “Argh. Poor wee Eva. Fine. Now off with you. Surely you have better things to be doing than pestering me.”
*****
Tokyo, Japan
Dearest Ma,
I hope you get this, and the gift. I know I should have waited until you got to me but I cannot help it. I am as impatient as you say I am. I took some of the sapphires specially for you - I don’t think they will be commercially available just yet. The pearls are from the South Sea, handpicked for you.
You know, I was in Ottawa the other week, and Mattie kept talking about the ‘All Red Line’, trying to get the last link of the telegraphs down, so we’ll all be connected all the time. Nearly there. I showed him the gift too, so it has his approval as well as mine.
I’m doing what you say, and looking at his constitution and seeing how he did it, but Ma, I feel different to Mattie - and Canada. What worked for him won’t necessarily work for me. And that’s not a bad thing… right? I know you said all of the land was for me, but sometimes people argue and want to stay apart. But that can’t be the case, because then who am I? I’m not just New South Wales, am I?
I can hear you thinking that this is something that should be discussed in person, so yes, let’s leave it. I cannot wait to show you my home. I think you will be impressed. In return, I hope you love your gift. You’ll be so pleased by what we’ve found out here.
I am sure your meeting with Japan will go well. I hear he’s a funny character, but I know you’ll keep him in line. His people are good for pearl diving, if nothing else. They found those pearls I now give you.
Please tell me if you like it? You say you like the opals and my pearls. Do you like the sapphires? I can’t recall you in blue, I admit. Is it a colour you like?
Love and love and love and love from your boy,
Jack
Evelyn read and re-read the letter, twisting and unfurling the sapphire and pearl necklace that her bright gem had gifted her. He really should have waited until she’d gotten to Sydney, but it was of no matter. She ran her fingers along each stone, reflexively as if holding a rosary, counting prayers that she had not made in three hundred years.
“Do you wish for me to stay on the ship?” she asked Alasdair distantly. He was staring in the tiny mirror, fixing his naval uniform. They were docked in Japanese waters, though she had not asked what city. Tokyo, surely?
“For the moment.”
“Very well,” she sighed, unfurling the necklace and holding it up to the light. “Not like I’m dressed to receive anyone at the moment.”
“You’re spoiled,” Scotland complained. The blue light refracted and scattered across her skin. England held her tongue, not sure what to say in response for once. She was indeed not dressed for any sort of occasion. A white lace shift and dressing gown, hair down and frizzing, she was the very image of relaxed. She had forgotten how much she loved long sea journeys, the freedom that she experienced there was unlike anything else in her long life.
“Argh, I will get dressed. Come get me when he’s ready to meet me.”
“If he wants to.”
“Is that a yes?”
“...Aye. Fine.”
“Thank you.”
Alasdair groaned, then left the cabin. Sighing with malcontent, England flopped back onto the bed, continuing to play with the necklace. She kissed each pearl, sighing with happiness. If she was spoiled, fine. What a joy to have a baby who thought her worthy of such things.
With a groan, she sat up again, setting the necklace carefully back in the box it came in, then set about getting dressed. Another white and red gown, flowers sewn into the hem and seams. Time passed far too slowly, and no amount of trying to arrange her hair into a perfect mess of a bun seemed to make it go quicker.
She could hear the men and movement and clattering of the docks, but her window faced the wrong direction, looking out to sea. Evelyn stared at it for a long time. The bays water was remarkably grey. A dirty greenish tinge that did not seem to entirely reflect the white clouded sky above. It was an oddly familiar sight. The deep blues she could often find only on the Cornish coast, and the azure and turquoise depths were unknown within her natural borders. Grey, dirty, rather cold… what a reassuring sight.
The urge to just take off running, up the stairs, on to the deck, down the stern, and throw herself off the back of the ship and into the frigid water appeared with sudden clarity. It had been a long time since she had been able to swim in the sea.
The idea was so tempting, that England decided to do just that.
Leaving the room at quite a pace she zipped along an overly long and narrow corridor until she was able to climb a rather rickety set of stairs, clambering up onto the metal deck. Several sailors and other people who had accompanied them on the long trip from Portsmouth, and those who had only joined at Hong Kong, turned and watched just for a moment as she marched along the long long deck, determined to make it to the back of the ship. For the most part she was ignored, no more interesting than a woman wanting to take in the view, albeit rather strange she was unaccompanied.
She reached the bow and gripped the railings, putting one heeled foot on the lowest rung. It would not be impossible in her s-shape dress to hoist herself up to sit on the metal, swing both feet over and around, then simply flop off the back of the ship.
England looked down, seeing the way was blocked by a bulging bow and what was likely the rudder and propellers further down below the water. If she didn’t want to smash to pieces on the metal, she would need to push herself off, giving a bit of momentum.
She pondered how filthy Japan’s waters were. Surely better than her own shit filled poisoned seas?
Evelyn pushed up, her second foot catching on the metal. Leaning forward, she pondered how very easy it would be to just keep leaning, separate her feet from anchoring her in place, and tumble off the side.
The water churned below, looking uninviting. England never wanted anything as much as to swim in it.
“Eva? Piuthar?”
Evelyn turned her head, neck flopping back to see at an odd angle why Alasdair had called for her.
He was standing, a grimace on his features. With a sharp jerk of his jaw, he ordered her to step back down onto the deck. A slight man in what looked like quite formal Japanese clothing stood next to him, several inches shorter, with a face so perfectly blank that maybe others would not be able to get a read on him, but as it was, she saw him suck on his tongue.
Japan was laughing at her.
The thought shocked England out of the daze, and she hopped down, feet on solid (enough) ground.
Alasdair looked less than pleased, guessing what she was thinking. With a roll of his eyes, he introduced the pair to each other.
Japan bowed, which completely caught England off guard. No-one had bowed to her in hundreds of years, outside of formal dances where it was simply part of the steps. Flustered at being on the end of such an action without demanding it of someone, and conscious of her brother’s eyes on her, Evelyn curtsied in a manner she usually reserved for the Queen, only lacking any of her seeping exasperation at the institution. Even when she had curtsied to other nations, there was always something of a joke in the action. Her deference ranged from playful to insincere or, at worst, spitefully mocking.
As she straightened her back, Alasdair’s face was a perfect picture of befuddlement. Japan seemed relieved though, even if her curtsey was different from his bow, the implications were the same. No shaking of hands required.
When the time came for her to leave the boat, having somewhat sheepishly been apologised to for not making it clear in advance that she was welcome, Evelyn had to hop across a small gap. Alasdair had left her behind with little thought of her dress and its habit of snagging on bolts and cables, so Evelyn made the jump regardless. It was truly a small leap, no danger in it at all. But that did not stop Japan from holding up his hand, catching hers instinctively, and she gripping his, just as impulsively.
The pair let go almost immediately. The poor island nations turned scarlet, England snatching her gloved hand back to grip the string of pearls hanging long around her neck. Japan looked at them, coughed, then scuttled off, clearly preferring the company of Scotland over her.
Signing the Treaty went well enough, and she did hear some mutterings about a conflict over Korea as she peered and peaked at her surroundings, so in love with how unlike anything that she had seen before. Even Hong Kong did not compare.
England kept herself quiet and small, content to watch and learn as the visit passed. She learned several things. Mostly about Japan himself.
He blushed very easily, having a character and disposition that was readily flustered. He tried to hide it with blank eyes and a straight mouth, but it was rather easy to trip him up. He wanted to help, and would often get distracted from the task at hand because something else had caught his eye and he had no skill for prioritisation. He liked beautiful and cute things. Soft things. His hands would open and close in grasping and grabbing motions when excited, like he was resisting the urge to snatch whatever he wanted that was sitting in front of him. He had a sad love, curdled and exasperated and disappointed, for China, yet did not seem to begrudge England one moment for causing Yao a century’s worth of grief. He still thought very fondly of the Netherlands and Jan, just as much as he still thought Portugal and Gabriel were pests.
Japan spoke English well but with an at times unintelligible accent, having somewhat been forced to learn the language when Alfred (and his guns) had turned up some decades ago.
She wanted to ask what it was like, how Alfred came across to someone who did not know him as well as she did. Even when yelling, kicking, threatening, all she could see was her first son, her baby boy. Japan did not exactly have that luxury. To him, Alfred may as well have sprung from the ground fully formed, loud, obnoxious and ambitious.
She had been trying to understand what exactly Japan thought of her eldest, but had been somewhat unsuccessful. Evelyn suspected that it was not wholly positive.
It was at the end of their stay, with England sitting on what felt like a back porch, feet dangling a few inches off the soft earth, that she finally got to speak to Japan one on one. He joined her, moving with his usual shuffling sound, then got down on his knees next to her. The pair watched his garden in the rain for sometime.
“I received your gift,” he began, bashful and soft spoken. “I must apologise and thank you, for I have nothing to give in return.”
“Oh? I do not mind. A gift is not given with expectation of something in return, otherwise it is not a gift.”
“Still, I had expected the formalities and meetings but not the private present. The books are lovely.”
“Do you like to read?” she asked. “I apologise that they are in English. I could have brought Dutch translations if…”
Japan stood up smoothly, walking to a series of shelves, to return swiftly with a novel of his own. Kneeling back down, he held it for Evelyn to take, which she did, shyly.
“It is a children’s story,” he admitted. “But I heard you too like… I do not know the word. Old stories of magic.”
“Fairytales,” she breathed, opening and looking through the softly painted images and black ink script. “I love storytelling. I would spend so many nights making up tales for America when he was a baby. Heroes and tragic loves and angry spirits of the world. Oh, Japan, this is beautiful. Read it to me?”
Japan coughed. “I will try to read about Robin Hood, if you try to read about Princess Kaguya . The next time we meet, we can share stories.”
She stared at the illustrations. “You’re letting me take this?”
“I trust you will keep it safe.”
She turned pink again. “Of course!”
She closed the book and rested her hands on the cover, then began to fiddle once more with her necklace, feeling awfully shy in a manner she could not quite put into words.
“You have been very kind,” she said.
“Ah. Your government… with this Treaty I now may call myself a Great Power. I am grateful.”
Another thing of note. He had ambition, even if he did not seem entirely aware of it. Alfred believed him to be miserable locked away from the world, but Evelyn was not sure much more happiness was to be found amongst other nations.
“Yes… Well. Congratulations. It can be a heavy burden.”
He did not seem to understand, and England sighed, wishing that they could have a common second language. She had asked after his Portuguese, but he had forgotten it, the tongue falling out of use. Her Dutch was in a similar state.
“Are you going to Singapore after here?”
“Yes, for four days, then to see my two children in Australia and New Zealand.”
He blinked. “Children?”
“Jack and Maia. They were brought to me when my people began settling their lands. I envy humans for having families. I… I wanted one of my own. Canada - Matthew - is my eldest now.”
A lie. Evelyn played with her necklace to avoid facing the fact.
Japan frowned, delicately, rubbing his hands together as if to keep them warm. “America…?” he asked quietly.
England smiled sadly, unsure if she wanted to speak of it with Japan. She still did not know where their relationship lay. Evelyn supposed Japan was attempting to discover the same.
“We were very close. Then we were not. And now we are closer, but it is nowhere what it once was.”
She could have said a lot more, but she bit her tongue.
“He has a human name too?”
England blanched, conscious that she had given away three nations personal names without their consent.
Alfred’s name had been the only one she had gotten to choose. Matthew’s and Maia’s had been put upon her by people she did not know or did not care for her opinions. Jack had been a compromise, a nickname which had thankfully stuck.
Alfred was hers. One she held very close to her chest. In all his years, he had not changed it. Despite its unpopularity for so long, it was his name. His name that his mother had gifted him. The name she had always associated with her greatest protector, even if he didn’t quite understand it yet.
“He does. Though he will be quite angry if I tell you it without him present.” She looked at Japan from the side, keeping her face forward. He was watching her rather closely, mouth screwed up tightly shut. Deciding to throw him a bone, she stated, “ My name, if you would like to know, is Evelyn Kirkland.”
She watched as he tasted the name on his tongue, sounding it out. He stumbled over the Ls, but she had heard as much for his language already.
“If it’s easier, Eva is more than enough.”
“Eva.”
“Ay-vah . My family and some in Europe call me that. I see no reason why that should not extend to you.”
Japan smiled, and it was quite a lovely thing to look at. “Ah. I think, I mean… Kiku Honda. I would like it if you called me Kiku.”
“First and last name? Mister Honda? Sir? Lord?”
“Just Kiku.”
“Thank you,” she said, quite touched. She looked down at the book in her lap, stroking the cover gently. “America said you were quite odd. I think his perspective is skewed.”
Kiku coughed, the tender moment thoroughly ruined. “He said that?”
Evelyn paled, wishing she had literally rather than figuratively shot herself in the foot. “I… He… He’s the odd one! Believe me, I could tell you a thousand and one stories about him when he was a baby and he was… well. No. I’ll save him his dignity.”
She cackled, but Kiku only looked pensive. It strangled the laugh in her throat. There was no warmth between Alfred and Kiku, and the news surprised her. Trying to step deftly, she apologised, an act she rarely did aside from trying to save face.
“Forgive me. I was rude. May I ask… and this may also be rude. Has it been hard? I know my government can be… haughty. Coming back on to the world stage after so long in the quiet.”
“So long alone.”
Her hands reflexively twitched on the book. Kiku had spoken somewhat flatly, a resigned truth he believed in quite deeply, but was unhappy about it.
“You too?” she whispered, quite unaware she had spoken out loud. Kiku looked at her questioningly but she said no more, chewing a lip.
“It… I’m not sure how much to say.”
The two of them were tip-toeing around each other, unsure of how vulnerable to be. Evelyn was tempted to dump every single one of her troubles on Kiku in the hopes that he would reciprocate, until it occurred to her that she had no reason to want him to reciprocate. He was simply a stopping over point on her way to visit and see more important people.
He was inspecting her pearls once again. She clutched them, as if conscious he was going to reach over and rip them off her neck. It was a silly thought, she told herself, especially as she had not once seen him move with aggression. At least, if there was an angry part of himself, he had tried very hard these past days to conceal it.
“It is fine if you do not trust me,” Evelyn stated. “I cannot think of many who do.”
“Your children though? Surely -”
“Love is not the same as trust.”
“...I do not think you can have one without the other.”
Her expression grew very ugly, and the pair were grateful when Evelyn’s brother appeared at the end of the path, soaked by the rain. Japan sighed, going off to greet him with the umbrella from the porch. England remained, stuck looking like she had stepped into dog shit.
She didn’t need a complete stranger telling her anything about her children. She ran her fingers over the book once more, and swallowed the very petty and childish urge to rip the pages out. She could not begrudge a man for stumbling over his words speaking in his… fourth? Fifth? Language. England was not that foolish.
She opened up the pages once more, sighing at the lovely ink paintings, detailing a story she could just about make out.
Evelyn wondered how many other people he had given such a loan to.
She didn’t even need to take it. It had been given. Freely.
Slipping off her small white shoes, England turned away from her brother and Japan, creeping deeper into the house, trying to remember where her room was located.
She was tired.
*****
Wells, Somerset
“Alfred?” Evelyn gawked from her position on her chair by the fire, scrambling to stand up and pull her nightgown closer around her, retying the belt. She kept her book in her hand, but backed away from Alfred, who marched into the room with such a critical eye she felt like throwing her book at his face. “Alfred, why are you here? I thought you were in Paris?”
“Signed it yesterday, on my way home…” he looked over her head at her bookcases and trinkets. He moved around the room, spying letters on her desk to a woman regarding petitions and an overly long acronym. “It looks just different enough to be disorientating.”
“You haven’t been here since 1761.”
“Right, so you’ve changed things. That's good. I suppose. But you,” he turned around, squinting derisively, “You look worse everytime I see you. Like you couldn’t be bothered to brush your hair this time?”
She wasn’t dressed properly. Another white dressing gown that hung off her skinny body very poorly. Silk, for once. English people had been copying Japanese fashion recently. Some of it was pretty. A lot of it looked silly. She wandered over to a corner of the room, pulling on a corded cable. If Alfred thought she was calling for someone to kick him out, he was mistaken, as a tiny maid appeared, and Evelyn merely asked for some hot drinks and something small to eat to be brought through to her library.
“It better not be tea.”
England rolled her eyes at her eldest, collapsing back down on a loveseat with a ruffle of crunching cotton and silk.
“It’s eight o’clock at night and I live alone at the moment, forgive me for not being dressed for the ball when I was expecting no-one . And you will take what you are given, don’t be difficult, please, else I will make you leave.” Her voice softened after her warning. “When did you get in? You should have written and I would have met you. Did you run here from Southampton?”
Alfred did look a bit sweaty, but he was shivering too. The December night was cold.
“Why are you alone? Jack said that your girl was still with you.”
Unsurprisingly, it seemed Jack kept Alfred as up to date on family matters and Matthew did. Evelyn pursed her lips.
“Maia is studying. She and her brothers will come home for Christmas.”
Alfred was genuinely surprised. “Where is she studying?”
“University College London,” Evelyn replied, narrowing her eyes in warning for him to not make a smart comment.
Alfred smiled. “You let her go?”
“She’s too bright not too.”
His smile slowly faded, and instead he became pensive.
“Alfred,” Evelyn prodded, “Why have you come to me in such a rush?”
“I needed to talk to you.”
England set the book down she had been holding, America distantly noting that it was a volume of a dictionary of all things. Dialects. Riveting. Patting the seat next to her, right near the fire, she invited him to join her.
“I am here. I always will be, if you let me.”
Alfred moved, only not to sit next to her, but to sit in the chair nearby, looking nearly directly at England. Her chest heaved up and down but she said nothing, choosing instead to spread herself out on her loveseat, extended and stretching like a cat, already half asleep.
“I had thought you would be in New York or… one of your West Coast metropolitan nightmares, celebrating your great victory over Spain.”
“Well, that’s why I wanted to talk to you. I came straight from Paris from the signing.”
Alfred had not actively sought her out in over one hundred and fifty years. Evelyn twisted the ring around on her middle finger, anxious. “What about?”
“You, Evie, what your guys did during this war. You blocked Spanish ships refuelling at the Suez Canal, but you let us refuel in Hong Kong.”
“It’s rather difficult to enforce uniformity across thousands of miles. Each governor is their own little king.”
“Oh that’s bullshit. The cheering in Hong Kong for us was as if it were your men going off to fight.”
She blinked, shifting a little so she could resettle. Alfred, on the other hand, looked haunted. Some great mathematical equation he could not solve. She wished he were a child again, where she would have picked him up and squeezed him tight, letting him mumble out what was troubling him until she could offer guidance.
Her visit during his Civil War had been an exception. She dare not reach for him now.
“You sound surprised.”
Alfred fell forwards into his hands, moving them back as he grabbed tufts of his hair. His knuckles turned white with the strength with which he gripped the strands.
“You annoyed all of Europe. Especially what your sailors did in the Philippines.”
“Germany has no business there.”
“And you do?”
She shrugged. “Purely financial.”
“Then… Then what business did I have there?”
The conflict was difficult to listen to. She joked gently, “If it makes you feel any better, I am currently on a mission to inconvenience Germany in all things. Everywhere they go they look for an excuse to fight, citing one abstract ideology after the next. I think my ships would have gotten in the middle of things regardless of who was on the other side. Just wanted a good view of the action.”
“I heard he rejected you and wants his own grand navy. That you’re not untouchable anymore, that you won’t get your way all the time now.”
“Try not to sound too sympathetic.”
He snorted, amused at her sarcasm. “No I mean… that’s not the point.”
“Then tell me,” England prodded.
“You let me use your communication cables. You sped up selling us those cruisers. You asked us for permission to ask for peace, when everyone else just demanded it. I don’t… I don’t understand.”
She tilted her head, indulgent and amused.
“Yes you do. You’ve always known, it just was inconvenient for you to accept. And now, we’re the same. In almost everything that matters. Great American Empire…”
Head still in his hands, Alfred shook his head, distressed. He looked like he was going to be sick.
“Not you,” he said shortly.
Evelyn sighed, then stood up with a small whimper, treading lightly over to the young golden man in her chair. He did not move away from her advance, but did hold himself quite still.
Dazed, he let her move too close, not resisting when she took his hands in hers, staring in bewilderment as she moved down, sitting at his feet. Her thumb rubbed reassuring circles over his knuckles. “You did very well,” she said. “Incredibly well.”
“The Democrats say I’ve become an Empire. My people do not care if I have. They think I deserve it.”
Her eyebrows raised incredulously. “And thus you are a hypocrite?”
“Well…”
“You cannot look me in the eye and say these past one hundred years you have done nothing contrary to your morals.”
“It’s incredible, your ability to talk in manipulative circles.”
“It is not an intentional one, I am just trying to make you understand. Your ideals are… admirable, but you must be able to marry them up with what your people will do in your name. It’s hard enough to do it within your own borders… international relations are messy for a reason. Everyone has a reason for being the way they are, and it does not make things easy.”
“You said it would drive me mad,” America whispered. “And the more power I get, the more I produce and the more I expand, the more I feel my head…”
“Are you tired?” she asked, thinking of her worst prevalent symptom.
“No. The opposite. I feel like there’s a permanent electric current under my skin, keeping me awake and my brain racing.”
“And it worries you.”
“It worries me how much it doesn’t worry me.”
His words excited her. It seemed further evidence to her long held belief that she was nothing more than a regent, holding the throne until Alfred was ready to be crowned. Her Empire had never sat correctly with her physically (nor politically if she thought about it for more than a moment, which she tried not to do), but having power on behalf of another, that explained much of her ills. She wished Alfred could understand, but he was still not quite ready.
“Is that why you came here? To ask why I aided your cause? You must have known the answer already? Francis would have told you all this. You need not come to me.”
“I know Francis would tell me the truth.”
“Then why?”
America stared at England, red eyed and a little frazzled. She sighed, squeezing his fingers. “Oh my love, you are tired. Shouldn’t this wait until the morning? You have surely had a long day -”
He interrupted her, flinching as her pet name slipped unbidden from her lips.
“Your government wants to cosy up to me.”
He really wouldn’t take a telling. Evelyn suppressed an exasperated groan.
“Because those old shits think you can be a force for good. And that is something my people believe, as do I, when you’re not being spiteful.”
“Your definition of good though.”
“Do ours differ?”
He mused it. “You are a little less dictatorial these days.”
A strangled scoff got stuck in her throat. “I’m flattered you think so.”
Taking a risk, she cupped his jaw with the tips of her fingers on her left hand, feeling the strength of his chin and the softness of his skin. He continued to stare at her, always suspicious of her motivations, never quite believing that she simply thought he was beautiful, and she liked to admire beautiful things.
“I beg you to not give up your ideals, even if it means you rage against the people in power. You're no sheep, Alfred. If you think me cynical and tired and passive, very well. But you must not be.”
“I know that already. You don’t need to lecture me. But I can’t reconcile…”
“Then do not lie to me about your ambition. You like power. I know you do.”
“I like autonomy. ”
“Which requires…?”
Their conversation ended when the door opened, and the food and drink Evelyn had requested appeared. Alfred sat straighter in the chair, but Evelyn did not move from her place at his feet. She watched the maid wordlessly set things down.
“You do not need to serve us, you can retire now Imogen,” she muttered, and the tiny woman vanished without once raising her eyes to the spectacle.
“Is that parkin?” Alfred asked, staring at the ginger and oat cake cut into squares and piled high.
“Oh, yes. I made some a couple of days ago, it is all ready now.” Evelyn smiled, standing up and putting two squares on a plate.
“I haven’t had it for a long time.”
She gave him the small dish. “Well… help yourself. Have you eaten dinner?”
Alfred took a substantial bite of the parkin. Evelyn watched as his eyes widened dramatically, just for a moment, then narrowed suspiciously. “You really didn’t know I was coming?”
England took a sip of her tea. “If I had, I would have cooked you dinner and made chelsea buns for you.”
“I loved chelsea buns.”
“I know. I remember.”
Silence ensued, a little awkward, as Evelyn watched Alfred eat quite intensely.
“How long do you intend to stay?” she asked. “I’ll make you some, for when you go, to take back for your journey.”
Alfred said nothing, choosing instead to wolf down slice after slice of the molasses rich cake. England set down her cup on the mantelpiece above the fire. The heat was a little too much - the fire had been going all day, and the room was a little stifling.
With great care, she moved behind Alfred’s hunched over form in the chair. Wringing her fingers, she desperately wanted to wrap her arms around his shoulders, squeeze him tight and coo that all his anxieties and troubles would one day pass. Maybe blow a raspberry into his ear. That would make him laugh. She missed his laugh.
Alfred put the plate to the side, once again running his now sticky fingers through his hair.
“I don’t know why I came. You’re always so unhelpful.”
“I just tell you things you don’t enjoy hearing.”
“You twist things up, with me or Mattie or anyone in Europe or now I’m hearing stuff with Japan… I don’t ever know what to think of you. You say your priorities are clear as day, but I don’t trust them.”
The fire crackled in the corner, and for a moment the only sound was the burning wood and the two’s quiet breathing.
“I ask you to think,” she murmured, hand hovering over Alfred’s back, so close to resting and stroking reassuringly. “Did you really think that I would ever choose Europe over you? You will always come first if you allow me to put you there.”
Her fingers touched his spine, but Alfred flinched away, up and out the chair, with such ferocity that it made England jump. When he turned to look at her, hands in fists, he looked so confused that her heart broke for him.
“Jack says you’re still sick.”
Evelyn would need to have a word with her youngest boy about what he was sprouting off in his letters to Alfred. It was fine for the boys to talk about their own problems, Evelyn rather wished hers weren’t apparently a worthwhile topic of conversation. Jack was too emotionally honest.
England swallowed. “I hear that a lot.”
“You act it. Body and mind.”
Alfred, agitated and pent up, stalked over to the plate of cake, eating some more. England watched him do so, frowning miserably.
“Go to bed Alfred,” she urged. “I assume you remember where everything is. The house has running water now, so the bathroom will be at the end of the hallway.”
“Which hallway?”
“The one you’re sleeping on. Three doors down from your room.”
“Which is…” he pushed.
Evelyn sneered. Grabbing a pitcher, she threw water over the fire, dousing it and filling the room with smoke and steam.
“Yours. Unless you have completely forgotten. Now kindly fuck off and go to bed.”
Alfred sucked on his tongue, suppressing a smile, enjoying her temper, and said nothing. He left, collecting a bag abandoned in the doorway, leaving Evelyn alone in the dark room.
History Notes:
- When the Kaiser dismissed Bismarck in 1890, Anglo-German relations soured. Wilhelm pursued colonies, a large navy, and frequently doing things for the pure intention of inconveniencing Britain.
- In 1891, Italy and Britain danced around a Naval Treaty in the Mediterranean, and more involvement with the Triple Alliance, but bad diplomacy killed the idea. Russia and France got wind of this and frightened at Germany’s increasingly erratic behaviour, made their own moves for an alliance. Britain repeatedly looked to Germany for back up in the 1890s regarding France and Russia, but got nowhere. Ironically, this ended up pushing Britain closer to France.
- In 1894 the Anglo-Japanese Treaty of Commerce and Navigation was signed. Britain was one of the first countries to give up their extraterritoriality law in Japan, meaning Brits in Japan would be tried under Japanese laws. It followed events like future Tsar Nicholas II having a sword cut through his face, Japanese government collapses, and the 1st Sino-Japanese War. It’s cited as the first time Japan was recognised as a Great Power.
- The All Red Line was the telecommunications between all parts of the British Empire. It was an expensive project, but would serve Britain well in WWI. Australian Federation to a Commonwealth and under a different system to Canada’s Dominion, was on its way. Australia was also beginning to make a name for itself as the place for gems - particularly pearls, sapphires and opals.
- The Spanish-American war in 1898 ended the Spanish Empire whilst forming the American one. Britain was sympathetic to the US, and did some sneaky things. Germany, sympathised with Spain. There was a moment at Manilla where it looked like something was going to kick off between the Germans and Americans. It was exaggerated, but widely reported on.
- Parkin is a spiced ginger and treacle cake that's traditionally eaten on November 5th. You need to leave it alone for a couple of days so it can get extra sticky from all the syrup. Chelsea buns are bread rolls with raisins, lemon, spice and syrup. The book on dialects is The English Dialect Dictionary. The late 19th century involved a resurgence in interest in rural English folk life.
- The overly long acronym is the National Union of Women's Suffrage Societies, formed by Millicent Fawcett the previous year in 1897. In 1878, UCL, was the first university in the UK to award female and male students on equal terms. The exception was medicine, for which they had to go to the London School of Medicine for Women, which had been founded by Millicent's sister Elizabeth.
Link to Chapter Eleven
Also available on Ao3.
Chapter Ten: 1891-1898, or the end of Splendid Isolationism
Dresden, Germany
“You’ve spoken to Italy?”
“Personally? No. Rarely do people come to see me. I no longer know if it is because they cannot get past my handlers or they just do not care.”
“Ah. You are being sarcastic.”
“...If you say so.”
Holding a white parasol, England turned to inspect the Parade of Princes, lining the path down to the bridge at Dresden. It was her first time in the city. Reluctantly, a little bitterly, she was impressed. Her own cities had their grand spaces, of course, but the air had become so filthy that smog prevented any loveliness from peering through the dark.
London sagged under the weight of its own growth - too fast, too unclean, too crowded. At least the sanitation acts had done their job. For those that had running water in the first place.
She had no beautiful riverside city of this scale. Liverpool and Newcastle were working ports; Manchester and Leeds cities of mill towers and markets; Birmingham was just as choked as London. It was her older cities, York, Oxford, Bath, Canterbury and others, that remained her beauties, and yet they could not match the size and scope of Germany’s city centres of Cologne and Munich and Leipzig. Evelyn was unabashedly jealous, and Ludwig knew it. She was small. Always had been. She felt safe in small.
England stared at the fresco, detailing each of Saxony’s leaders over seven hundred and fifty years. She recognised none of them, so little involvement she’d had with Saxony over her years.
“Ah. He asked me to ask you on his behalf,” Ludwig began. “It isn’t that I’m reluctant to do so, I think he should ask himself, but well. I think he is rather frightened of you.”
“Me?” she cackled. “What on Earth can I have possibly done to Feliciano to make him afraid of me? Aside from providing him with mediocre food. By his standards, of course. My food is perfectly pleasant.”
Ludwig smiled, but did not say much more. He could have taken Evelyn’s arm if he so wished, and enjoyed a walk along the Elbe, and forget any sort of instructions given to him by the Kaiser. But he had a job to do, as awkward as he knew it would be.
Evelyn looked back at him, feeling very out of place without an arm to guide her. Her handsome date often kept his hands to himself, a stickler for proprietaries and decorum, more than England could ever hope to be. He seemed to be comfortable with things at a distance, and England, not emotionally open enough herself, was unable to crack him.
She very much wanted to be kissed by him. Evelyn had not been kissed for… a long time. She wanted someone to call her sweet names, to brush her hair away from her neck, to smile whenever she entered a room. Ludwig… Ludwig probably needed someone to take that first step. So the pair continued an awkward dance, neither quite sure what the other thought of them.
Her children had not cured her loneliness. It was not their fault. They were utterly perfect, all of them. The fault lay with Evelyn, and her greed. She knew this, and yet that did not stop her from wanting.
Sometimes, she thought she caught Ludwig looking at her as if she were something lovely to have. But when she turned the look would be gone, and what was left was a puzzled uncertainty. The look of someone who, after twenty years, was still trying to understand what he was supposed to be feeling.
More and more, Evelyn understood that it was less Ludwig being indecisive in his character - the man practically revelled in the making of plans - and more that no-one had told him how to feel about the island nation in front of him. She had not managed to make herself worth standing by him in his eyes. She felt that, if tomorrow his foolish Emperor told Ludwig to hate her, he would, out of some bizarre patriotic duty.
Ludwig was very good at following instructions. Evelyn worried at the expense of his own individuality.
Case and point, him doing as requested for Italy.
“What did Feli want you to ask me?”
“For your help in the Mediterranean. I think he hopes that you can come to an agreement regarding North Africa and France.”
Evelyn groaned, recognising where the conversation was heading. She stepped away and slowly walked towards the bridge. It was a gloriously sunny day, and she hid in the shade of her parasol, feeling as though she stuck out like a sore thumb in such a beautiful city.
“Tell him no,” she said blithely.
Ah. And with that, Ludwig had his instructions.
England continued, utterly unaware that she had sealed her own misery with such a quick and easy answer. She giggled, complaining further, “I don’t understand where these rumours keep coming from regarding your Triple Alliance and myself, but I have no appetite for being used as a ping pong ball between Francis and Feliciano of all people. He’s always asking for the world you know? It’s frankly rather tiresome. Diplomacy is not a skill of his.”
“He can be… demanding,” Ludwig admitted. “Exhausting. Exacerbating. I can see why Roderich found him so difficult when he was growing up.”
“And yet, he has his moments of brilliance,” she stated, surprised that she found herself defending the spoilt boy.
She turned around, waiting for Germany to rejoin her. He did so slowly, squinting in the bright sunlight. In her white and red dress, she was rather pretty today. Sometimes, oftentimes, she did not have the energy to dress formally or nicely, or so Ludwig had heard, preferring plain woollen and linen clothes over silk. She was making an effort for him, wearing cotton and lace. She had not much changed in the years since he had met her in the field hospital. Still rather sick looking, but she held her back straight. Her hair was getting messier and messier by the day however. There was no softness about her, anything round and curved was in the clothes she wore, and not in her features. Today she was wearing opals on her fingers and earlobes. She was supposed to be forever seen in pearls, housing an extensive collection of centuries old pieces, but Ludwig had never seen them on her.
“Italy has the skill for art and music, and not much else,” he explained.
Evelyn frowned. “That is more than enough. None of us can be everything to everyone.”
She certainly sounded like a mother there. Ludwig snorted.
“He has no discipline and his laziness”-
“Ludwig,” she interrupted, being bold and patting his forearm. “I did not travel seven hundred miles to discuss Feliciano with you. In fact, I really do not wish to talk about politics at all. Is that why you invited me? I thought…”
England’s sharp features shifted into something of a perfect poker face, a warning for his answer to be very carefully chosen. “Why did you invite me here?” she asked. “Please tell me it was for the pleasure of my company? Or… Or more?”
“We have dallied around for too long,” he stated, pulling at his coat, smartening himself up unnecessarily. “My intent was dependent on your answer to Italy’s proposal. You have given it, now we may speak plainly.”
“In what way?”
“In many things.”
Feeling like a foolish schoolgirl, Evelyn’s pulse fluttered. She smiled, taking down her parasol. Her pale flaxen hair, frizzy and not entirely pinned correctly, shined in the warm light. She tilted her head up expectantly.
“You must be more explicit. German frankness is what I expect from you.”
Ludwig chewed his lip. This was going to be awful.
“The Kaiser sees that France and Russia are moving closer together. Which is the opposite of what I wanted.”
England twitched, virulent hatred rearing its head for a split second before she managed to recapture her emotions. Fine. Politics it was.
“Yes. Francis will never be a pariah. Honestly you were foolish to try and engineer such a thing. But. Is this really why you invited me?” Evelyn repeated.
“They have no love for you,” he stated. “As a matter of fact, no-one in Europe thinks kindly of you.”
Her pale face grew even whiter, and Ludwig cringed at his cruel words.
“Except you?” Evelyn asked, laughing without humour. “Is that what you are saying? That I have alienated Portugal and Greece and Denmark and the Netherlands? That Belgium does not trust me? Perfidious Albion? You genuinely believe that I am more duplicitous than Ivan or Francis or… or Alfred.”
Her odd rictus smile collapsed.
Ludwig side stepped her retort. Her eldest boy was a funny topic for her, one he had learned not to bring up.
“Our treaty for Heligoland was well done, and you have never… We have yet to quarrel.”
England was rather gobsmacked. “You say that and yet you’re building a huge naval base at Heligoland as we speak. Why do you need a navy to match mine? We indeed have nothing to quarrel over! I have no wish to quarrel with anyone in Europe.”
“I disagree.”
“Oh!” she groaned, stabbing the end of her parasol into the ground, as if grinding out her frustration, she resisted the urge to strangle the obtuse man in front of her. “What does that mean? I do not understand. You were content to leave a European peace alone, as am I, or did Bismarck’s endless treaties mean nothing to you? And yet, ever since he was removed, I cannot make sense of what you want. So tell me, please, what do you want? What do you want from me?”
“My foreign office-”
“For God’s sake Ludwig! I don’t care about your fat Kaiser or your men in suits with stupid facial hair! I am asking you , what do you want from me ?”
He looked very sad, and quite red in the face.
“I think I know what you desire more than I understand my own thoughts and feelings on this matter.”
England shook her head. “Oh please, enlighten me as to what that is?”
“You are being sarcastic again.”
Her anger faded, a sad depressed exhalation followed. She stared at her feet hidden under her dress.
“Ludwig… I want to be important to you. The most important. For us to look at each other with affection and admiration. Not jealousy and envy.”
“I know.”
A beat passed. Then, Evelyn spoke,“You do not wish it to be so, however. Do you?”
His silence was her answer. She laughed again, resigned, miserable. At least Ludwig looked uncomfortable.
“I do not know,” he replied simply. “But I know that my Emperor is too…”
“Mercurial,” England said.
“Changeable. I must follow where he leads, which means maintaining personal relationships will be very hard. I do not want to put you through strain for the sake of no promise at the end of it all.”
Evelyn’s chest ached. He didn’t care enough for her to fight for her, and was presenting such a fact as a kindness.
She continued to push her parasol deep into the ground, pushing all of her heartbreak and frustrations down. Down. The loneliness would remain then. For how long was she to endure it? Not forever surely. No. Maybe just another millennia.
There was little comfort to be had in such a thought, so she clenched her jaw, and decided to hold her head high. She did what she did best, and began to lecture the young nation in front of her.
“That is very dangerous. You are your people, not a King. You must see what the others say of you, Ludwig. The ship of state is being steered off course. It is inevitable from time to time. To be one of us is to find ways to endure it, sometimes fight it, if you are brave and resourceful enough, but never to accept it wholeheartedly.”
“That is not what I have been taught.”
She sneered. “I am older than Gilbert and Roderich both. I would take my advice on this.”
“...I will consider your thoughts.”
“Ludwig-”
“I think it would be best if I walked you back to your hotel now. I will pay for your journey home, so you don’t need to worry about that,” he interrupted, awkward and unwilling to let the conversation drag on.
She twitched, suppressing a lip quiver. And people believed her to be cold…
“But I wanted to… I thought. Why did you invite me out here?” she asked a final time.
Ludwig swallowed. “I thought sending you a letter was cowardly. If you had agreed to Italy’s proposal, I believe our conversation would have gone differently.”
“You speak as if it means nothing to you either way.”
“As I said. I do not know what I feel for you. Truly.”
She stared. “Well. No one would ever accuse you of being a coward, Ludwig.” Evelyn trailed off, then turned, glaring at the sun. “Very well. We tried and failed. Is it far to the hotel? I am quite tired. The heat is exhausting.”
Ludwig sighed, feeling relief that he seemed to have avoided a major diplomatic incident. Gilbert had implied that it would not be beyond England to throw a tantrum, screaming and crying to get her way. As it was, she cared too much about how strangers in a foreign country viewed her to rock the metaphorical boat. To Ludwig, who had never been particularly intuitive to the feelings of others, he thought she had accepted the end of their slow and tentative friendship - courtship - rather well. To Evelyn, her overriding desire was to be left alone so she could properly accept and mourn what had just happened. God forbid she let herself openly weep in front of Ludwig. She may have wanted him to think fondly on her, but that did not mean she ever trusted him. There was much she wanted to say, to yell and slap and kick, but she pushed it down, alongside her misery, as she could see no long term gain from the action.
No. Better for him to think she did not care deeply either.
Already her grief was morphing into hate, the spiteful little thing that she was, as she glared at the back of Ludwig’s handsome blond head, wishing nothing more than to shove him into the river, or under one of his stupid trains.
Testing the waters with Europe had been a mistake.
*****
Edinburgh, Scotland
“You’ve been requested to go on a trip?” England asked, taking the piece of thin paper from Scotland. In return he pinched the book she had on her lap, a compilation of Conan Doyle stories.
Alasdair sighed, seeing words he had enjoyed dozens of times before, then set the volume aside, leaning back in the sun, eyes closed, freckles stark against pale skin. Evelyn read the memo, then looked at her brother. Sitting in the gardens in the shadow of his great tower dedicated to Walter Scott, the pair were absorbing what little sun they were allowed. Alasdair was darker - or rather, redder - than his sister, owing to his frequent travels and working outside. He had spent some time in India this past year, the skin on his shoulders still recovering from the bright burning light.
“Japan?” England gasped as she read the note. “You’ve been invited?”
“Well. Technically we’ve been invited, but I’ll go on our behalf. They’re putting the final stamp on a new treaty, though it won’t be ratified for a wee while yet.”
“May I go?”
Alasdair peered at his sister, suspicious. “‘May’ you go? What?”
“I have never been.”
“I’m aware. Neither have I. But it’s still not friendly to foreigners there, or did you forget the Tsarevich getting his face hacked off?”
Evelyn snorted. “It was only one sword slash, and I am sure he probably deserved it. And I’d have no intention of travelling far. I would just like to meet him - Japan that is. You can keep me on the boat if you wish. Use the excuse to see Hong Kong and Singapore? Maybe go down to Sydney? Can we manage Wellington too?”
“Oh, so now we’re going on holiday?”
“Why not?” She pushed at Scotland’s shoulder, a laugh bursting out of her. Alasdair swallowed a smile, feeling nostalgic for a time spent nearly eight hundred years ago, when Evelyn had sought comfort after the Normans had invaded and ruined her, desperate to see her Anglo-Saxon princesses on his throne. They used to support each other. For a time. They still did, when they were allowed.
Evelyn complained, “Why can’t we go where we want? Rosebury and the rest of the Liberals will not care a whit, he’s too stupid to notice. I’ve behaved so well these past decades, they’ve backed off.”
“Dinnae think we've missed you taking laudanum still. And you smoke too much now.”
“I have it under control. Not in front of company, and only when I cannot sleep.”
“You never can sleep.”
Evelyn ignored him, pushing, “I so wish to travel again. It’s been so long since I left Europe.”
“Splendid Isolation, eh?”
“Boring isolation. Ali, please. Let me come too. Jan and Gabriel are the only two who knew him, before Alfred kicked the metaphorical door down.”
“A recluse.”
“Mm.” She fingered the paper. “I will take gifts. If this treaty is between equal states, it should come with a gift.”
Alasdair fell backwards into the grass, hands up behind his head with his eyes closed. He had not denied her the request, so she knew she would get her way.
“What will you take? We’ve never had much to offer.”
“Rude.” She leaned over him, picking up the book to wave it in his face. “Do we not have the most wonderful words? Stories and poems and songs, or is this great monument behind us just for show? Let us share them.”
Alasdair stared at his sister. “I dinnae think he will be in much of a mood for literature.”
“Why?”
“They say war is coming between him, China, and Korea. It will not end well.”
“Does it ever?” she asked.
“You’re being morbid.”
“All the more reason for a holiday.”
He sighed, then waved her away. “Argh. Poor wee Eva. Fine. Now off with you. Surely you have better things to be doing than pestering me.”
*****
Tokyo, Japan
Dearest Ma,
I hope you get this, and the gift. I know I should have waited until you got to me but I cannot help it. I am as impatient as you say I am. I took some of the sapphires specially for you - I don’t think they will be commercially available just yet. The pearls are from the South Sea, handpicked for you.
You know, I was in Ottawa the other week, and Mattie kept talking about the ‘All Red Line’, trying to get the last link of the telegraphs down, so we’ll all be connected all the time. Nearly there. I showed him the gift too, so it has his approval as well as mine.
I’m doing what you say, and looking at his constitution and seeing how he did it, but Ma, I feel different to Mattie - and Canada. What worked for him won’t necessarily work for me. And that’s not a bad thing… right? I know you said all of the land was for me, but sometimes people argue and want to stay apart. But that can’t be the case, because then who am I? I’m not just New South Wales, am I?
I can hear you thinking that this is something that should be discussed in person, so yes, let’s leave it. I cannot wait to show you my home. I think you will be impressed. In return, I hope you love your gift. You’ll be so pleased by what we’ve found out here.
I am sure your meeting with Japan will go well. I hear he’s a funny character, but I know you’ll keep him in line. His people are good for pearl diving, if nothing else. They found those pearls I now give you.
Please tell me if you like it? You say you like the opals and my pearls. Do you like the sapphires? I can’t recall you in blue, I admit. Is it a colour you like?
Love and love and love and love from your boy,
Jack
Evelyn read and re-read the letter, twisting and unfurling the sapphire and pearl necklace that her bright gem had gifted her. He really should have waited until she’d gotten to Sydney, but it was of no matter. She ran her fingers along each stone, reflexively as if holding a rosary, counting prayers that she had not made in three hundred years.
“Do you wish for me to stay on the ship?” she asked Alasdair distantly. He was staring in the tiny mirror, fixing his naval uniform. They were docked in Japanese waters, though she had not asked what city. Tokyo, surely?
“For the moment.”
“Very well,” she sighed, unfurling the necklace and holding it up to the light. “Not like I’m dressed to receive anyone at the moment.”
“You’re spoiled,” Scotland complained. The blue light refracted and scattered across her skin. England held her tongue, not sure what to say in response for once. She was indeed not dressed for any sort of occasion. A white lace shift and dressing gown, hair down and frizzing, she was the very image of relaxed. She had forgotten how much she loved long sea journeys, the freedom that she experienced there was unlike anything else in her long life.
“Argh, I will get dressed. Come get me when he’s ready to meet me.”
“If he wants to.”
“Is that a yes?”
“...Aye. Fine.”
“Thank you.”
Alasdair groaned, then left the cabin. Sighing with malcontent, England flopped back onto the bed, continuing to play with the necklace. She kissed each pearl, sighing with happiness. If she was spoiled, fine. What a joy to have a baby who thought her worthy of such things.
With a groan, she sat up again, setting the necklace carefully back in the box it came in, then set about getting dressed. Another white and red gown, flowers sewn into the hem and seams. Time passed far too slowly, and no amount of trying to arrange her hair into a perfect mess of a bun seemed to make it go quicker.
She could hear the men and movement and clattering of the docks, but her window faced the wrong direction, looking out to sea. Evelyn stared at it for a long time. The bays water was remarkably grey. A dirty greenish tinge that did not seem to entirely reflect the white clouded sky above. It was an oddly familiar sight. The deep blues she could often find only on the Cornish coast, and the azure and turquoise depths were unknown within her natural borders. Grey, dirty, rather cold… what a reassuring sight.
The urge to just take off running, up the stairs, on to the deck, down the stern, and throw herself off the back of the ship and into the frigid water appeared with sudden clarity. It had been a long time since she had been able to swim in the sea.
The idea was so tempting, that England decided to do just that.
Leaving the room at quite a pace she zipped along an overly long and narrow corridor until she was able to climb a rather rickety set of stairs, clambering up onto the metal deck. Several sailors and other people who had accompanied them on the long trip from Portsmouth, and those who had only joined at Hong Kong, turned and watched just for a moment as she marched along the long long deck, determined to make it to the back of the ship. For the most part she was ignored, no more interesting than a woman wanting to take in the view, albeit rather strange she was unaccompanied.
She reached the bow and gripped the railings, putting one heeled foot on the lowest rung. It would not be impossible in her s-shape dress to hoist herself up to sit on the metal, swing both feet over and around, then simply flop off the back of the ship.
England looked down, seeing the way was blocked by a bulging bow and what was likely the rudder and propellers further down below the water. If she didn’t want to smash to pieces on the metal, she would need to push herself off, giving a bit of momentum.
She pondered how filthy Japan’s waters were. Surely better than her own shit filled poisoned seas?
Evelyn pushed up, her second foot catching on the metal. Leaning forward, she pondered how very easy it would be to just keep leaning, separate her feet from anchoring her in place, and tumble off the side.
The water churned below, looking uninviting. England never wanted anything as much as to swim in it.
“Eva? Piuthar?”
Evelyn turned her head, neck flopping back to see at an odd angle why Alasdair had called for her.
He was standing, a grimace on his features. With a sharp jerk of his jaw, he ordered her to step back down onto the deck. A slight man in what looked like quite formal Japanese clothing stood next to him, several inches shorter, with a face so perfectly blank that maybe others would not be able to get a read on him, but as it was, she saw him suck on his tongue.
Japan was laughing at her.
The thought shocked England out of the daze, and she hopped down, feet on solid (enough) ground.
Alasdair looked less than pleased, guessing what she was thinking. With a roll of his eyes, he introduced the pair to each other.
Japan bowed, which completely caught England off guard. No-one had bowed to her in hundreds of years, outside of formal dances where it was simply part of the steps. Flustered at being on the end of such an action without demanding it of someone, and conscious of her brother’s eyes on her, Evelyn curtsied in a manner she usually reserved for the Queen, only lacking any of her seeping exasperation at the institution. Even when she had curtsied to other nations, there was always something of a joke in the action. Her deference ranged from playful to insincere or, at worst, spitefully mocking.
As she straightened her back, Alasdair’s face was a perfect picture of befuddlement. Japan seemed relieved though, even if her curtsey was different from his bow, the implications were the same. No shaking of hands required.
When the time came for her to leave the boat, having somewhat sheepishly been apologised to for not making it clear in advance that she was welcome, Evelyn had to hop across a small gap. Alasdair had left her behind with little thought of her dress and its habit of snagging on bolts and cables, so Evelyn made the jump regardless. It was truly a small leap, no danger in it at all. But that did not stop Japan from holding up his hand, catching hers instinctively, and she gripping his, just as impulsively.
The pair let go almost immediately. The poor island nations turned scarlet, England snatching her gloved hand back to grip the string of pearls hanging long around her neck. Japan looked at them, coughed, then scuttled off, clearly preferring the company of Scotland over her.
Signing the Treaty went well enough, and she did hear some mutterings about a conflict over Korea as she peered and peaked at her surroundings, so in love with how unlike anything that she had seen before. Even Hong Kong did not compare.
England kept herself quiet and small, content to watch and learn as the visit passed. She learned several things. Mostly about Japan himself.
He blushed very easily, having a character and disposition that was readily flustered. He tried to hide it with blank eyes and a straight mouth, but it was rather easy to trip him up. He wanted to help, and would often get distracted from the task at hand because something else had caught his eye and he had no skill for prioritisation. He liked beautiful and cute things. Soft things. His hands would open and close in grasping and grabbing motions when excited, like he was resisting the urge to snatch whatever he wanted that was sitting in front of him. He had a sad love, curdled and exasperated and disappointed, for China, yet did not seem to begrudge England one moment for causing Yao a century’s worth of grief. He still thought very fondly of the Netherlands and Jan, just as much as he still thought Portugal and Gabriel were pests.
Japan spoke English well but with an at times unintelligible accent, having somewhat been forced to learn the language when Alfred (and his guns) had turned up some decades ago.
She wanted to ask what it was like, how Alfred came across to someone who did not know him as well as she did. Even when yelling, kicking, threatening, all she could see was her first son, her baby boy. Japan did not exactly have that luxury. To him, Alfred may as well have sprung from the ground fully formed, loud, obnoxious and ambitious.
She had been trying to understand what exactly Japan thought of her eldest, but had been somewhat unsuccessful. Evelyn suspected that it was not wholly positive.
It was at the end of their stay, with England sitting on what felt like a back porch, feet dangling a few inches off the soft earth, that she finally got to speak to Japan one on one. He joined her, moving with his usual shuffling sound, then got down on his knees next to her. The pair watched his garden in the rain for sometime.
“I received your gift,” he began, bashful and soft spoken. “I must apologise and thank you, for I have nothing to give in return.”
“Oh? I do not mind. A gift is not given with expectation of something in return, otherwise it is not a gift.”
“Still, I had expected the formalities and meetings but not the private present. The books are lovely.”
“Do you like to read?” she asked. “I apologise that they are in English. I could have brought Dutch translations if…”
Japan stood up smoothly, walking to a series of shelves, to return swiftly with a novel of his own. Kneeling back down, he held it for Evelyn to take, which she did, shyly.
“It is a children’s story,” he admitted. “But I heard you too like… I do not know the word. Old stories of magic.”
“Fairytales,” she breathed, opening and looking through the softly painted images and black ink script. “I love storytelling. I would spend so many nights making up tales for America when he was a baby. Heroes and tragic loves and angry spirits of the world. Oh, Japan, this is beautiful. Read it to me?”
Japan coughed. “I will try to read about Robin Hood, if you try to read about Princess Kaguya . The next time we meet, we can share stories.”
She stared at the illustrations. “You’re letting me take this?”
“I trust you will keep it safe.”
She turned pink again. “Of course!”
She closed the book and rested her hands on the cover, then began to fiddle once more with her necklace, feeling awfully shy in a manner she could not quite put into words.
“You have been very kind,” she said.
“Ah. Your government… with this Treaty I now may call myself a Great Power. I am grateful.”
Another thing of note. He had ambition, even if he did not seem entirely aware of it. Alfred believed him to be miserable locked away from the world, but Evelyn was not sure much more happiness was to be found amongst other nations.
“Yes… Well. Congratulations. It can be a heavy burden.”
He did not seem to understand, and England sighed, wishing that they could have a common second language. She had asked after his Portuguese, but he had forgotten it, the tongue falling out of use. Her Dutch was in a similar state.
“Are you going to Singapore after here?”
“Yes, for four days, then to see my two children in Australia and New Zealand.”
He blinked. “Children?”
“Jack and Maia. They were brought to me when my people began settling their lands. I envy humans for having families. I… I wanted one of my own. Canada - Matthew - is my eldest now.”
A lie. Evelyn played with her necklace to avoid facing the fact.
Japan frowned, delicately, rubbing his hands together as if to keep them warm. “America…?” he asked quietly.
England smiled sadly, unsure if she wanted to speak of it with Japan. She still did not know where their relationship lay. Evelyn supposed Japan was attempting to discover the same.
“We were very close. Then we were not. And now we are closer, but it is nowhere what it once was.”
She could have said a lot more, but she bit her tongue.
“He has a human name too?”
England blanched, conscious that she had given away three nations personal names without their consent.
Alfred’s name had been the only one she had gotten to choose. Matthew’s and Maia’s had been put upon her by people she did not know or did not care for her opinions. Jack had been a compromise, a nickname which had thankfully stuck.
Alfred was hers. One she held very close to her chest. In all his years, he had not changed it. Despite its unpopularity for so long, it was his name. His name that his mother had gifted him. The name she had always associated with her greatest protector, even if he didn’t quite understand it yet.
“He does. Though he will be quite angry if I tell you it without him present.” She looked at Japan from the side, keeping her face forward. He was watching her rather closely, mouth screwed up tightly shut. Deciding to throw him a bone, she stated, “ My name, if you would like to know, is Evelyn Kirkland.”
She watched as he tasted the name on his tongue, sounding it out. He stumbled over the Ls, but she had heard as much for his language already.
“If it’s easier, Eva is more than enough.”
“Eva.”
“Ay-vah . My family and some in Europe call me that. I see no reason why that should not extend to you.”
Japan smiled, and it was quite a lovely thing to look at. “Ah. I think, I mean… Kiku Honda. I would like it if you called me Kiku.”
“First and last name? Mister Honda? Sir? Lord?”
“Just Kiku.”
“Thank you,” she said, quite touched. She looked down at the book in her lap, stroking the cover gently. “America said you were quite odd. I think his perspective is skewed.”
Kiku coughed, the tender moment thoroughly ruined. “He said that?”
Evelyn paled, wishing she had literally rather than figuratively shot herself in the foot. “I… He… He’s the odd one! Believe me, I could tell you a thousand and one stories about him when he was a baby and he was… well. No. I’ll save him his dignity.”
She cackled, but Kiku only looked pensive. It strangled the laugh in her throat. There was no warmth between Alfred and Kiku, and the news surprised her. Trying to step deftly, she apologised, an act she rarely did aside from trying to save face.
“Forgive me. I was rude. May I ask… and this may also be rude. Has it been hard? I know my government can be… haughty. Coming back on to the world stage after so long in the quiet.”
“So long alone.”
Her hands reflexively twitched on the book. Kiku had spoken somewhat flatly, a resigned truth he believed in quite deeply, but was unhappy about it.
“You too?” she whispered, quite unaware she had spoken out loud. Kiku looked at her questioningly but she said no more, chewing a lip.
“It… I’m not sure how much to say.”
The two of them were tip-toeing around each other, unsure of how vulnerable to be. Evelyn was tempted to dump every single one of her troubles on Kiku in the hopes that he would reciprocate, until it occurred to her that she had no reason to want him to reciprocate. He was simply a stopping over point on her way to visit and see more important people.
He was inspecting her pearls once again. She clutched them, as if conscious he was going to reach over and rip them off her neck. It was a silly thought, she told herself, especially as she had not once seen him move with aggression. At least, if there was an angry part of himself, he had tried very hard these past days to conceal it.
“It is fine if you do not trust me,” Evelyn stated. “I cannot think of many who do.”
“Your children though? Surely -”
“Love is not the same as trust.”
“...I do not think you can have one without the other.”
Her expression grew very ugly, and the pair were grateful when Evelyn’s brother appeared at the end of the path, soaked by the rain. Japan sighed, going off to greet him with the umbrella from the porch. England remained, stuck looking like she had stepped into dog shit.
She didn’t need a complete stranger telling her anything about her children. She ran her fingers over the book once more, and swallowed the very petty and childish urge to rip the pages out. She could not begrudge a man for stumbling over his words speaking in his… fourth? Fifth? Language. England was not that foolish.
She opened up the pages once more, sighing at the lovely ink paintings, detailing a story she could just about make out.
Evelyn wondered how many other people he had given such a loan to.
She didn’t even need to take it. It had been given. Freely.
Slipping off her small white shoes, England turned away from her brother and Japan, creeping deeper into the house, trying to remember where her room was located.
She was tired.
*****
Wells, Somerset
“Alfred?” Evelyn gawked from her position on her chair by the fire, scrambling to stand up and pull her nightgown closer around her, retying the belt. She kept her book in her hand, but backed away from Alfred, who marched into the room with such a critical eye she felt like throwing her book at his face. “Alfred, why are you here? I thought you were in Paris?”
“Signed it yesterday, on my way home…” he looked over her head at her bookcases and trinkets. He moved around the room, spying letters on her desk to a woman regarding petitions and an overly long acronym. “It looks just different enough to be disorientating.”
“You haven’t been here since 1761.”
“Right, so you’ve changed things. That's good. I suppose. But you,” he turned around, squinting derisively, “You look worse everytime I see you. Like you couldn’t be bothered to brush your hair this time?”
She wasn’t dressed properly. Another white dressing gown that hung off her skinny body very poorly. Silk, for once. English people had been copying Japanese fashion recently. Some of it was pretty. A lot of it looked silly. She wandered over to a corner of the room, pulling on a corded cable. If Alfred thought she was calling for someone to kick him out, he was mistaken, as a tiny maid appeared, and Evelyn merely asked for some hot drinks and something small to eat to be brought through to her library.
“It better not be tea.”
England rolled her eyes at her eldest, collapsing back down on a loveseat with a ruffle of crunching cotton and silk.
“It’s eight o’clock at night and I live alone at the moment, forgive me for not being dressed for the ball when I was expecting no-one . And you will take what you are given, don’t be difficult, please, else I will make you leave.” Her voice softened after her warning. “When did you get in? You should have written and I would have met you. Did you run here from Southampton?”
Alfred did look a bit sweaty, but he was shivering too. The December night was cold.
“Why are you alone? Jack said that your girl was still with you.”
Unsurprisingly, it seemed Jack kept Alfred as up to date on family matters and Matthew did. Evelyn pursed her lips.
“Maia is studying. She and her brothers will come home for Christmas.”
Alfred was genuinely surprised. “Where is she studying?”
“University College London,” Evelyn replied, narrowing her eyes in warning for him to not make a smart comment.
Alfred smiled. “You let her go?”
“She’s too bright not too.”
His smile slowly faded, and instead he became pensive.
“Alfred,” Evelyn prodded, “Why have you come to me in such a rush?”
“I needed to talk to you.”
England set the book down she had been holding, America distantly noting that it was a volume of a dictionary of all things. Dialects. Riveting. Patting the seat next to her, right near the fire, she invited him to join her.
“I am here. I always will be, if you let me.”
Alfred moved, only not to sit next to her, but to sit in the chair nearby, looking nearly directly at England. Her chest heaved up and down but she said nothing, choosing instead to spread herself out on her loveseat, extended and stretching like a cat, already half asleep.
“I had thought you would be in New York or… one of your West Coast metropolitan nightmares, celebrating your great victory over Spain.”
“Well, that’s why I wanted to talk to you. I came straight from Paris from the signing.”
Alfred had not actively sought her out in over one hundred and fifty years. Evelyn twisted the ring around on her middle finger, anxious. “What about?”
“You, Evie, what your guys did during this war. You blocked Spanish ships refuelling at the Suez Canal, but you let us refuel in Hong Kong.”
“It’s rather difficult to enforce uniformity across thousands of miles. Each governor is their own little king.”
“Oh that’s bullshit. The cheering in Hong Kong for us was as if it were your men going off to fight.”
She blinked, shifting a little so she could resettle. Alfred, on the other hand, looked haunted. Some great mathematical equation he could not solve. She wished he were a child again, where she would have picked him up and squeezed him tight, letting him mumble out what was troubling him until she could offer guidance.
Her visit during his Civil War had been an exception. She dare not reach for him now.
“You sound surprised.”
Alfred fell forwards into his hands, moving them back as he grabbed tufts of his hair. His knuckles turned white with the strength with which he gripped the strands.
“You annoyed all of Europe. Especially what your sailors did in the Philippines.”
“Germany has no business there.”
“And you do?”
She shrugged. “Purely financial.”
“Then… Then what business did I have there?”
The conflict was difficult to listen to. She joked gently, “If it makes you feel any better, I am currently on a mission to inconvenience Germany in all things. Everywhere they go they look for an excuse to fight, citing one abstract ideology after the next. I think my ships would have gotten in the middle of things regardless of who was on the other side. Just wanted a good view of the action.”
“I heard he rejected you and wants his own grand navy. That you’re not untouchable anymore, that you won’t get your way all the time now.”
“Try not to sound too sympathetic.”
He snorted, amused at her sarcasm. “No I mean… that’s not the point.”
“Then tell me,” England prodded.
“You let me use your communication cables. You sped up selling us those cruisers. You asked us for permission to ask for peace, when everyone else just demanded it. I don’t… I don’t understand.”
She tilted her head, indulgent and amused.
“Yes you do. You’ve always known, it just was inconvenient for you to accept. And now, we’re the same. In almost everything that matters. Great American Empire…”
Head still in his hands, Alfred shook his head, distressed. He looked like he was going to be sick.
“Not you,” he said shortly.
Evelyn sighed, then stood up with a small whimper, treading lightly over to the young golden man in her chair. He did not move away from her advance, but did hold himself quite still.
Dazed, he let her move too close, not resisting when she took his hands in hers, staring in bewilderment as she moved down, sitting at his feet. Her thumb rubbed reassuring circles over his knuckles. “You did very well,” she said. “Incredibly well.”
“The Democrats say I’ve become an Empire. My people do not care if I have. They think I deserve it.”
Her eyebrows raised incredulously. “And thus you are a hypocrite?”
“Well…”
“You cannot look me in the eye and say these past one hundred years you have done nothing contrary to your morals.”
“It’s incredible, your ability to talk in manipulative circles.”
“It is not an intentional one, I am just trying to make you understand. Your ideals are… admirable, but you must be able to marry them up with what your people will do in your name. It’s hard enough to do it within your own borders… international relations are messy for a reason. Everyone has a reason for being the way they are, and it does not make things easy.”
“You said it would drive me mad,” America whispered. “And the more power I get, the more I produce and the more I expand, the more I feel my head…”
“Are you tired?” she asked, thinking of her worst prevalent symptom.
“No. The opposite. I feel like there’s a permanent electric current under my skin, keeping me awake and my brain racing.”
“And it worries you.”
“It worries me how much it doesn’t worry me.”
His words excited her. It seemed further evidence to her long held belief that she was nothing more than a regent, holding the throne until Alfred was ready to be crowned. Her Empire had never sat correctly with her physically (nor politically if she thought about it for more than a moment, which she tried not to do), but having power on behalf of another, that explained much of her ills. She wished Alfred could understand, but he was still not quite ready.
“Is that why you came here? To ask why I aided your cause? You must have known the answer already? Francis would have told you all this. You need not come to me.”
“I know Francis would tell me the truth.”
“Then why?”
America stared at England, red eyed and a little frazzled. She sighed, squeezing his fingers. “Oh my love, you are tired. Shouldn’t this wait until the morning? You have surely had a long day -”
He interrupted her, flinching as her pet name slipped unbidden from her lips.
“Your government wants to cosy up to me.”
He really wouldn’t take a telling. Evelyn suppressed an exasperated groan.
“Because those old shits think you can be a force for good. And that is something my people believe, as do I, when you’re not being spiteful.”
“Your definition of good though.”
“Do ours differ?”
He mused it. “You are a little less dictatorial these days.”
A strangled scoff got stuck in her throat. “I’m flattered you think so.”
Taking a risk, she cupped his jaw with the tips of her fingers on her left hand, feeling the strength of his chin and the softness of his skin. He continued to stare at her, always suspicious of her motivations, never quite believing that she simply thought he was beautiful, and she liked to admire beautiful things.
“I beg you to not give up your ideals, even if it means you rage against the people in power. You're no sheep, Alfred. If you think me cynical and tired and passive, very well. But you must not be.”
“I know that already. You don’t need to lecture me. But I can’t reconcile…”
“Then do not lie to me about your ambition. You like power. I know you do.”
“I like autonomy. ”
“Which requires…?”
Their conversation ended when the door opened, and the food and drink Evelyn had requested appeared. Alfred sat straighter in the chair, but Evelyn did not move from her place at his feet. She watched the maid wordlessly set things down.
“You do not need to serve us, you can retire now Imogen,” she muttered, and the tiny woman vanished without once raising her eyes to the spectacle.
“Is that parkin?” Alfred asked, staring at the ginger and oat cake cut into squares and piled high.
“Oh, yes. I made some a couple of days ago, it is all ready now.” Evelyn smiled, standing up and putting two squares on a plate.
“I haven’t had it for a long time.”
She gave him the small dish. “Well… help yourself. Have you eaten dinner?”
Alfred took a substantial bite of the parkin. Evelyn watched as his eyes widened dramatically, just for a moment, then narrowed suspiciously. “You really didn’t know I was coming?”
England took a sip of her tea. “If I had, I would have cooked you dinner and made chelsea buns for you.”
“I loved chelsea buns.”
“I know. I remember.”
Silence ensued, a little awkward, as Evelyn watched Alfred eat quite intensely.
“How long do you intend to stay?” she asked. “I’ll make you some, for when you go, to take back for your journey.”
Alfred said nothing, choosing instead to wolf down slice after slice of the molasses rich cake. England set down her cup on the mantelpiece above the fire. The heat was a little too much - the fire had been going all day, and the room was a little stifling.
With great care, she moved behind Alfred’s hunched over form in the chair. Wringing her fingers, she desperately wanted to wrap her arms around his shoulders, squeeze him tight and coo that all his anxieties and troubles would one day pass. Maybe blow a raspberry into his ear. That would make him laugh. She missed his laugh.
Alfred put the plate to the side, once again running his now sticky fingers through his hair.
“I don’t know why I came. You’re always so unhelpful.”
“I just tell you things you don’t enjoy hearing.”
“You twist things up, with me or Mattie or anyone in Europe or now I’m hearing stuff with Japan… I don’t ever know what to think of you. You say your priorities are clear as day, but I don’t trust them.”
The fire crackled in the corner, and for a moment the only sound was the burning wood and the two’s quiet breathing.
“I ask you to think,” she murmured, hand hovering over Alfred’s back, so close to resting and stroking reassuringly. “Did you really think that I would ever choose Europe over you? You will always come first if you allow me to put you there.”
Her fingers touched his spine, but Alfred flinched away, up and out the chair, with such ferocity that it made England jump. When he turned to look at her, hands in fists, he looked so confused that her heart broke for him.
“Jack says you’re still sick.”
Evelyn would need to have a word with her youngest boy about what he was sprouting off in his letters to Alfred. It was fine for the boys to talk about their own problems, Evelyn rather wished hers weren’t apparently a worthwhile topic of conversation. Jack was too emotionally honest.
England swallowed. “I hear that a lot.”
“You act it. Body and mind.”
Alfred, agitated and pent up, stalked over to the plate of cake, eating some more. England watched him do so, frowning miserably.
“Go to bed Alfred,” she urged. “I assume you remember where everything is. The house has running water now, so the bathroom will be at the end of the hallway.”
“Which hallway?”
“The one you’re sleeping on. Three doors down from your room.”
“Which is…” he pushed.
Evelyn sneered. Grabbing a pitcher, she threw water over the fire, dousing it and filling the room with smoke and steam.
“Yours. Unless you have completely forgotten. Now kindly fuck off and go to bed.”
Alfred sucked on his tongue, suppressing a smile, enjoying her temper, and said nothing. He left, collecting a bag abandoned in the doorway, leaving Evelyn alone in the dark room.
History Notes:
- When the Kaiser dismissed Bismarck in 1890, Anglo-German relations soured. Wilhelm pursued colonies, a large navy, and frequently doing things for the pure intention of inconveniencing Britain.
- In 1891, Italy and Britain danced around a Naval Treaty in the Mediterranean, and more involvement with the Triple Alliance, but bad diplomacy killed the idea. Russia and France got wind of this and frightened at Germany’s increasingly erratic behaviour, made their own moves for an alliance. Britain repeatedly looked to Germany for back up in the 1890s regarding France and Russia, but got nowhere. Ironically, this ended up pushing Britain closer to France.
- In 1894 the Anglo-Japanese Treaty of Commerce and Navigation was signed. Britain was one of the first countries to give up their extraterritoriality law in Japan, meaning Brits in Japan would be tried under Japanese laws. It followed events like future Tsar Nicholas II having a sword cut through his face, Japanese government collapses, and the 1st Sino-Japanese War. It’s cited as the first time Japan was recognised as a Great Power.
- The All Red Line was the telecommunications between all parts of the British Empire. It was an expensive project, but would serve Britain well in WWI. Australian Federation to a Commonwealth and under a different system to Canada’s Dominion, was on its way. Australia was also beginning to make a name for itself as the place for gems - particularly pearls, sapphires and opals.
- The Spanish-American war in 1898 ended the Spanish Empire whilst forming the American one. Britain was sympathetic to the US, and did some sneaky things. Germany, sympathised with Spain. There was a moment at Manilla where it looked like something was going to kick off between the Germans and Americans. It was exaggerated, but widely reported on.
- Parkin is a spiced ginger and treacle cake that's traditionally eaten on November 5th. You need to leave it alone for a couple of days so it can get extra sticky from all the syrup. Chelsea buns are bread rolls with raisins, lemon, spice and syrup. The book on dialects is The English Dialect Dictionary. The late 19th century involved a resurgence in interest in rural English folk life.
- The overly long acronym is the National Union of Women's Suffrage Societies, formed by Millicent Fawcett the previous year in 1897. In 1878, UCL, was the first university in the UK to award female and male students on equal terms. The exception was medicine, for which they had to go to the London School of Medicine for Women, which had been founded by Millicent's sister Elizabeth.
Link to Chapter Eleven
