Chapter Text
Henry and Alex fell into the hallway in a pile of limbs. They laughed almost deliriously, clutching each other and kissing every inch of skin that they could reach. They nearly banged straight into a portrait of George II, but neither of them seemed to notice.
Alex was the first to pull away. He pushed his hair out of his face and blinked rapidly. “Okay. Oh, shit, that was so great. The look on her face– Okay. Alright. I need to go back– I need to call my dad, talk to the campaign, get Nora to look at the metadata for the motherfucker who hacked our–”
“Kid,” interrupted the American woman who’d been standing with Shaan earlier, “give yourself a few hours.”
Alex blinked at her like she’d suddenly sprouted a second head.
She smiled wryly at him. “Yeah, don’t get used to it, you piece of shit. Four hours, max, and then I’m dragging your ass back on the plane whether you want to go or not.”
Alex stared at her, eyes shining. She started to make a sound of protest, but Alex was faster– he grabbed her in a tight hug and pressed his face into the shoulder pads of her blazer.
“Thanks, Z,” Alex muttered.
She pushed him off, but both of them were grinning.
They all made their way downstairs to the back entrance, where their cars were waiting for them.
Alex whispered something in Henry’s ear. Henry grinned.
“We’ll meet you back at Kensington,” Henry said, barely offering them a glance. He practically tackled Alex into the backseat. Jane couldn’t help but smile.
It was less than an hour before Alex was due to leave for America. The four of them were arranged in some strange parody of the day before: sprawled across the couches and cushions in the music room. This time, however, the door was wide open.
Bea had brought in her laptop– blessedly returned by Shaan– and started playing the latest episode of Bake Off. On Netflix, thankfully, so they were cut off from all of the news coverage.
None of them were really watching it, of course. Henry and Alex were trying to savour every last second they had before they were on opposite sides of the planet again. If Alex stepped into the hallway to make a call, Henry followed. If Henry got up for a cup of tea, Alex went with him. Even now, they were cuddled up together on the carpet, practically in each other’s laps.
Bea was taking the opportunity to doze on the settee– which she definitely needed, after staying awake for over twenty-four hours straight. And Jane was simply taking a moment to enjoy their victory. A new age was dawning, and they were the ones that had forged it.
“Janie,” Henry began. “Did you really mean what you said earlier? About you wanting to save the monarchy?”
Jane spluttered. “Of course not!”
“Then why’d you say it?” Henry asked, confused.
“Listen, Henry– right now, that old bat’s useful to you as an ally. Once she calms down a bit, she’s going to go back over that conversation, and she’s going to agree with what I said. If she needs people to lie to her a little in order to keep her calm, I’m happy to oblige. But when she stops being useful– when your popularity outweighs hers, which I’d bet is pretty close to happening– I will happily watch you get behind a podium and announce that the monarchy is fucking dogshit, actually, and everyone should follow your lead and disavow it.”
“I mean,” Alex cut in with a grin, “I would’ve summed it up with ‘utilitarian political expediency,’ but I like hearing you use curse words more.”
“Christ,” said Henry, looking amused and slightly sick all at once. “I knew I should never have introduced you two. I hope you know that if you decide to team up and actually assassinate my eighty year old grandmother, I’ll testify against you both at your trial.”
“Well,” joked Jane, “I have been listening to a lot of Sinead O’Connor recently. Maybe I’ll call up the IRA.”
Henry burst into giggles. Alex clearly didn’t get it, but smiled right along with him.
“Give it a year,” advised Jane, “and then you can start seriously planning your abdication.”
Both men froze. Alex looked to Henry, trying to gauge his reaction.
“Sorry,” Jane backtracked. “I’m sorry, I thought you’d talked about that already.”
Henry stared. The corner of his mouth pinched, but his mind was clearly working a million miles a minute.
“D’you really think I should?” he asked eventually.
Jane gave him a sad smile. “Will you ever be happy if you don’t?”
Jane eyed her house warily.
No, it wasn’t her house– she was going to have to remember that, from now on.
“You ready?” Bea asked quietly.
“No,” Jane responded honestly. She got out of the car anyway.
Bea followed close behind. Two or three PPOs got out of the car that had been following them to stand a few yards away.
It was the day after Alex had left. Soon, Henry would be heading over to the States while Alex addressed his own nation. The Palace would issue a statement announcing Alex’s new status as an official suitor.
Jane, however, had much smaller, more practical things that needed to be dealt with.
An unnatural sense of calm washed over her. The worst had already happened, after all. She had already lost everything. Now, it was simply time to see if anything could be reclaimed.
Jane made her way up the front steps, Bea a comforting presence at her back. She took out her keys, and with shaking hands, slid the key in the lock.
It went in, and the lock turned.
Jane gasped. Bea’s grip tightened on her arm.
“Okay, that’s good,” said Bea in a measured voice. “But you’re not out of the woods yet.”
Bea’s PPOs followed them into the house. The lights in her foyer were on.
Jane wondered, for the first time, whether she ought to have turned her work phone back on to survey the damage.
The house looked just as it always had, almost like nothing had happened.
“Hello?” Jane called.
“Lady Colthurst,” came a male voice from the other room.
Jane prowled forward, Bea hot on her heels. She came face to face with an unfamiliar man in the sitting room, his suit freshly pressed, his hairline receding.
His eyes widened. “Your Royal Highness,” he stammered out, hurrying to bow.
“Who are you?” Bea asked. “Why are you in my friend’s home?”
The man swallowed nervously. “My name is Oliver Davies, ma’am. I’m a private barrister representing Lord and Lady Colthurst in their estate concerns.”
“Are you,” sneered Jane.
“Yes, ma’am. I’ve been instructed to inform you that this home, the Colthurst London residence, is no longer available for your use. You will need to vacate the premises immediately.”
“You can’t be serious!” Bea exclaimed. “What kind of cruel, heartless– why are you doing this, letting them hide behind you?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but my hands are tied. This is the job I have been hired to do.”
He’s sorry now, Jane thought, in his wilted suit. This is the way the knife gets through the door.
“No eviction notice?” Jane asked.
“Your parents wished to handle this matter quietly.”
Jane almost snorted. I bet they did.
“You may go through your things,” Davies continued, “and take what you wish, but I will have to make a note of everything you decide to take. Anything purchased using Lord and Lady Colthurst’s accounts will be repossessed at a later date.”
Jane wanted to dash over to America and give Alex the world’s biggest hug. He’d gone through UK legal statutes with her before he left, making sure she understood her rights in any relevant scenario. Even from the States, he’d been sporadically texting her links to websites that explained the law in simple terms.
“I’m surprised you would say that, Mr. Davies,” Jane said coolly. “Any personal items of mine— such as my clothes, books, and electronics— are my property, even if they were purchased by my parents. The three elements of inter vivos gifts have been met, by any reasonable standard.”
Davies’s eyes went wide as saucers. He scoffed, weakly. “I—I’m not sure what you’ve read on the internet, ma’am, but—”
“Shut it,” said Bea, with all the fury of a Royal.
“What makes you think I haven’t retained a barrister of my own?” Jane asked. She was bluffing, but Davies had no way of knowing that.
He gulped. “Nevertheless, ma’am, you cannot continue to reside here.”
Bea looked ready to argue further, but Jane held up a hand. “It’s fine.”
Bea frowned. She turned back to Davies, a calculating look in her eyes. “And are there any additional conditions? What could Lady Colthurst do to retain residency in her home?”
Davies began to look even more uncomfortable. And suddenly, Jane knew what he was about to say.
“If Lady Jane were to convince Lord and Lady Colthurst that the rumours surrounding her lifestyle are unfounded, and if she were to…” Davies coughed. “If she were to publicly condemn the behaviour of His Royal Highness Prince Henry, she would be allowed to stay, with all of her possessions, and access to her family accounts would be restored.”
Bea looked ready to claw his eyes out.
Jane couldn’t help but laugh. Davies looked hopelessly confused at her reaction.
“How long do I get?” Jane asked. “To go through my things and pack?”
Davies looked as if he were hoping the floor would open up and swallow him. “It would be preferable if everything were to be taken care of today, ma’am. But the Colthursts are willing to allow you three days, maximum.”
Jane tsked. “Really, Mr. Davies? I thought you said you were a barrister. I get a month. Twenty-eight days.”
Davies was turning an interesting shade of puce. “Given that you have never paid rent for this property and that you never signed a formal lease agreement—”
“—I get twenty-eight days instead of the usual sixty,” Jane finished.
Jane turned to Bea, smiling sweetly. “Bea, darling, could you ask your lovely, armed Personal Protection Officers to step in? I think Mr. Davies might like to meet them.”
Bea grinned. She opened her mouth, but Davies hurried to stop her.
“That won’t be necessary, ma’am.”
He gathered up his papers, shot Jane one last baleful look, and left.
“Cheers, Ollie!” Jane called after him.
The front door slammed.
Jane was packing boxes when her phone chimed.
Pez
We’ve got to stop meeting like this, Jane.
It’s because I’m in so many group chats. Popularity is my curse— I always find out about distasteful things as soon as they happen.
Turn on the telly.
Jane frowned. She picked through the mess on her living room floor for the remote and switched it on.
“—not true,” Jane’s mother was saying plaintively on BBC One. “It’s not.”
Jane
ugh. thanks for the heads up pezza.
“Jane is my daughter,” her mother continued. “I would’ve known if she was…one of them. Not that there’s anything wrong with it in principle, of course. But poor Jane has been starry-eyed over Prince Henry since their first date. There hasn’t been any official statement from the Palace or from the Americans regarding the truth of the allusions to my daughter’s lifestyle in these Waterloo Letters. The only possible explanation I can think of is that Prince Henry lied to Jane from the beginning. I’m sure she’s heartbroken.”
“Haven’t you spoken to your daughter since the leak?” asked the interviewer, a slight frown on her face now.
Her mother’s face immediately contorted, a hand coming up to cover her features as she cried.
Or rather, Jane supposed, to hide the fact that she wasn’t actually crying at all.
“Jane won’t take our calls,” sobbed her mother. “No one in the family has been able to get in touch with her. We’ve even reached out to Kensington Palace, and all we can find out is that she’s safe and alright. I know that the needs of the Royal Family come first, of course, but preventing Jane from speaking to her family to push some pro-gay agenda is simply inhuman.”
Jane thought for a moment, and then sent out a text.
Jane
henry, on a scale of 1-10, how angry would the firm be if i did an interview?
Henry
You want to eviscerate your parents on live television?
Jane
eviscerates such a strong word
Henry
Oh, I’m not reprimanding you. On the contrary— this might actually be fun. Make sure you get a good time slot. The rest of us will make a night of it. We’ll make popcorn, FaceTime Alex, June, and Nora. There’s nothing like some schadenfreude to ease the mind.
“So,” said the interviewer, a plastic smile on her face, “let’s begin with the question on everybody’s minds. Why did you do it? Why did you go to great lengths to make the world believe you were deeply in love with Prince Henry, when in fact, you were secretly a lesbian?”
Jane fought down a wince. This is what she wanted, after all: the chance to speak about everything that had happened.
There was only one rule that the Palace had drilled into her: don’t diss the Queen.
“My interests and those of Prince Henry were fairly aligned. The two of us are genuinely excellent friends, but we knew from our first meeting that we would never be anything more. While Prince Henry feared backlash from the public if he were to be open about his sexuality, my fears were much closer to home, I’m sad to say. After the leak, my parents froze any bank cards of mine that they could access, and sent a lawyer to evict me from my home of several years.”
“That’s horrible!” exclaimed the interviewer.
Jane could tell she didn’t really care one way or the other, but that wasn’t important. They were both using each other to achieve their own goals.
“Why would your parents do something like that?” the interviewer asked, like she didn’t already know.
It wasn’t hard for Jane to muster up a grimace. “My parents are very traditional. They made it clear to me that until I changed my ways— and until I publicly spoke out against my dear friend, Prince Henry— they would no longer consider me their daughter.”
The interviewer looked contemplative, and a bit shocked, like she hadn’t expected Jane to be able to hold her own.
“I think that with the world’s focus placed firmly on His Royal Highness and the First Son, you may have fallen through the cracks.”
“There seems to be an international consensus that this was a cyberattack from the American side. I won’t rehash the details, since there are tech-minded professionals who can explain it much more precisely, but the Claremont administration seems to have been hacked by their opponent in the upcoming election, Senator Richards. In short, this leak was done not with me, Prince Henry, or the First Son in mind, but was done rather as an underhanded attempt to smear President Claremont before Election Day. Outing someone’s gender identity or sexual orientation can not only be emotionally devastating to them, but can put them in physical danger. I know that Senator Richards wasn’t thinking about my safety or wellbeing when he leaked those emails, but perhaps he should have been.”
The interviewer nodded along. “How are you doing in the aftermath of the leaked emails? How did you cope with your life being completely turned upside down in such a way?”
“Actually,” said Jane, “I was especially grateful to Alex— Alex Claremont-Diaz, that is. He’s very passionate about the legal system. He made sure that I was aware of all my rights beforehand, regarding mandated time periods before an eviction can be enforced, and my ownership of my personal items, and the like. Considering the circumstances, I’m actually very lucky. I’m well above the age of majority, I have a job, I have friends who I can rely on to help me out if I need anything. Many people don’t have any of that to fall back on when they are ostracised by a homophobic family. If my conditions were different, I may very well have been desperate enough to go back into the closet to win back my parents’ affection and economic support.”
“And why are you speaking out now?” asked the interviewer. “What would you like the people of the world to know?”
Jane took a deep breath.
“I wanted to speak publicly so that the world would know my side of the story. But I also wanted to take a moment to talk about queer youth who don’t have my resources or abilities. As many of us know, the Okonjo Foundation has spent the past few years pursuing many philanthropic opportunities, including shelters for homeless youth. I was ecstatic to hear that Prince Henry has decided to take a hands-on approach to the running of these shelters, using a new foundation in his name to dedicate shelters to queer youth in need. Henry is preparing to make safe havens for queer youth in the UK and in the US. In a different world, I could very well have been one of those young people in need of help. I want to say how wonderful I think his endeavour is, and how necessary.”
Henry
Jane. You are unfathomably kind. I do not deserve you.
Pez
You made H cry.
Bea
That was wonderfully done. You remembered everything we practised!
Nora
Omg Alex was NOT expecting you to talk about him. He’s lowkey trying to get AF1 to take him to the UK rn so he can hug you.
June
Would you be cool with looking over a speech I’ve been writing?
5 MISSED CALLS FROM: Alex Claremont-Diaz
“Hello, is this Jane Colthurst?”
Jane paused. Ordinarily, she would’ve hung up the phone straight away. But this call had come through on her personal number, somehow.
It was less than a week before her twenty-eight days were up. Pez had an apartment in Soho that he barely ever lived in, and was happy to offer her his spare room until she found a place. Most of her things were already packed.
To say that she was on edge would be a massive understatement. She hadn’t heard a peep from her family since the immediate aftermath of the leak, and she wanted to keep it that way. Even Oliver Davies hadn’t darkened her doorstep once. Jane prayed that her peaceful existence wasn’t about to be violently disrupted.
“Yes,” she answered warily, “this is she.”
“Excellent. This is Madeleine Gerson, I represent Mayfair Estates, the owner of the highrise on Chesterfield Hill? Your flat’s all ready to be moved into. All I need is for you to come in and sort out the final paperwork.”
Jane paused. “I’m sorry, Miss Gerson, I’m very confused. I didn’t put in an offer on any flat in Mayfair.”
It was wildly out of her price range. She hadn’t even glanced at listings in the area.
The rustling of paperwork sounded over the other end. “Yes, of course, my apologies— it was purchased on your behalf by a friend of yours, a Mister…William Darcy?”
Jane stopped breathing.
“It’s all paid for, of course,” continued Madeleine blithely. “This hardly ever happens, but your proxy paid it all up front. I thought he must’ve been an heir or something, but when you look his name up online, all that comes up is some old book! And ordinarily, of course, we can’t accept offers from anyone except the person looking to own the flat, but a lot of people over my head have given this their seal of approval. And the wire transfer went through right away! It was just a simple form to transfer the contract into your name, at that point.”
Jane stammered, fighting for air. “Er— sorry, er, how long is the lease for again?”
“Ninety years,” said Madeleine. Jane’s legs gave out from under her, and she collapsed onto the sofa. “That’s the maximum we’re allowed to give, you see, it’s all complicated tax nonsense, but we’ve been instructed to keep informally extending the lease agreement for up to nine hundred and ninety-nine years, at your discretion. Essentially, it’s yours forever.”
“And how much did my friend pay to extend the leasehold for that long?”
Madeleine told her the number. Jane’s vision went white.
“Essentially, it functions like an owned property. You can live in it, sell it, rent it out. It stays yours even if ownership of the building itself changes hands.”
“And when would you need me to come in?”
“Within the next few days would be wonderful. I could give you the keys, show you around the place as well.”
“Right,” said Jane, “let me call you back. There’s something I need to take care of first.”
“Where is he?”
Shaan blinked. “Er, ma’am, are you–”
Jane shouldered past him, storming into the palace.
“Henry!” she called as she took the stairs two at a time. “Henry, you fucking bastard! Where are you?”
She found Henry and Bea in the dining room, eating lunch.
“Janie, what’s–”
“I cannot believe you!” Jane exclaimed. “Oh, if only I could get my hands around your neck right now–”
“What the hell is going on?” Bea asked.
Jane turned to Bea. She pointed an accusing finger at Henry. “He– your brother— that wanker–”
Henry, at least, now looked suitably alarmed. “What are you talking about?”
Jane tried to catch her breath, tears running freely down her face. “He bought me a three bedroom flat. In Mayfair.”
Slowly, Bea smiled.
“That’s what you’re so upset about?” Henry asked incredulously. “I know I probably should’ve asked first, but that doesn’t warrant— I thought you’d be happy!”
Jane launched herself at him.
Henry jolted, but caught her. Luckily, he was steady on his feet, and able to give her the balance she needed to turn her motion into less of an attack and more of an embrace.
“Thank you,” she sobbed into his shoulder.
Tentatively, his arms wrapped around her back. “You’re very welcome.”
“That’s not the only property Henry’s purchased recently.”
Jane pulled back, confused. “What do you mean?”
“Bea,” Henry hissed.
Bea gestured at her brother with her chin. “Henry’s moving to New York. To manage the shelter there.”
Jane turned to look at Henry, shocked.
“It hasn’t been decided yet,” said Henry sheepishly. “I haven’t even told Alex.”
Jane raised an eyebrow. “You bought a house in New York and didn’t tell Alex?”
“I’m going to!”
Jane giggled.
After a moment, her smile faded, and her thoughts turned melancholy. She drew Henry into a second hug, tighter this time.
“It’ll be good for you,” she said. “I’ll miss you terribly. And you’re not allowed to spend any more extravagant amounts of money on me, except for paying for my First Class airfare to come and visit you in the States.”
Henry’s chest rumbled with his laughter. “There’s no need to go to such extremes. I’ll just send my plane.”
2021
Henry
As you know, everyone’s coming to ours for the winter hols this year. Here’s the thing: Pez wants to stay through the end of January to spend time with Nora and June. So, we thought we might make an extended trip of it all. Fancy spending a month or so in the States? I’m this close to talking Bea into it. She’d definitely agree if you stayed as well. I know you’ll have to go back before the uni break is up, but that still gives us weeks. What do you say?
[Attached photo: A guest bedroom in Henry and Alex’s brownstone, neatly made up. David the beagle sits on the floor near the nightstand, clearly posing for the camera, complete with a red bowtie. A box set of books labelled “The Jane Austen Collection” is sitting on the bed.]
Jane
well, if im doing it as a favour to you, then i suppose i must.
;)
Jane put her phone down and snuggled further into the armchair in her sitting room. Outside the window, people bustled about, cars zipped up and down the street. The setting sun tinged the sky shades of peach and crimson.
She had years of this ahead of her. Years and years of it.
Jane wished she could sit down with her teenage self, closeted and jumpy and lonely, and tell her that it would all end up alright.
Keep some room in your heart for the unimaginable, she’d say. It’s out there, waiting.