"..."
"..."
"..."
"You have reached the voicemail of-"
Huffing, I ended the call. Josh refused to pick up my calls, leaving me with the only option to attend to the Grantham party alone and find some answer to my problem. As I left for the Grantham party I greeted by Edward's delightfully sad face.
"Your Majesty," I snarked, curtseying. I had a hint of frustration in my icy tone, knowing he was going to force me into something I couldn't escape.
"Matilda." Edward greeted, scoffing at my curtsey. "Are you going to the Grantham party?"
"Where else would I be going?" I snapped, glaring at him. Edward took a breath before walking towards me, putting a hand on my shoulder.
"I know I've pushed you into this, Matilda, but I have to think of the monarchy now. As King it is my duty to uphold its dignity and reputation and I must do all in my power to keep it intact. That's what we, I, was born to do."
"I know that, Eddie, I just..." I sighed, looking to my brother for help. "I do not wish to marry, not yet. I'm only twenty and I have so much life left in me before I wish to settle."
"I'm not asking that you marry, just that you at least have the appearance of a stable relationship. Appear to be content, happy."
"Appearing to be happy is what us Royals are best at." I chuckled, "but I understand my duty, Eddie. But I won't marry someone I don't love."
"And I respect that." He spoke. He tiptoed towards me and engulfed me in a warm, brotherly hug. I couldn't help but feel a little sad, thinking of Father.
"I miss him, Eddie." I whispered, wiping a small tear away from my cheek.
"We all do, but it will get better." He responded, hugging me a little tighter.
"Promise we'll stand up for each other." I professed, looking up to him. "We cannot become like Father and his brother, not now."
Edward gulped a little, thinking of our family history. "Of course, but you must go now or you'll be late. Can't have you missing any suitors, can we?" He winked, nodding to Smithers.
"I'm not so sure they would agree." I chuckled, turning to the car.
"Thank you, Matilda. You've given me a lot to think about." Edward called as I walked towards the car.
His words stuck with me as we drove through London. Our family had a history of sibling rivalries, in which the monarch and their younger sibling were utterly torn apart upon the succession of the oldest. In our Father's case, his brother grew angered by his inferior position and attempted to get Father to abdicate in favour of him. The entire affair was a complete flop and now he lives somewhere in Spain as a disgraced Prince. Whether he'd be returning for the funeral was another affair completely; I doubted our Mother would want him there, but it was Edward's choice. Mother had only influence as the Queen Mother, no real power.
"We're here, m'lady." Smithers spoke, dragging me from my thoughts back into reality.
"Thank you." I responded, briskly jumping out of the car and onto the steps of the Grantham house.
The house was a white, Georgian building and typical in London. It had a small balcony at the front and underneath pillars, creating a stone patio. The steps were the same white stone, and extremely old. It was interesting to think of historical figures who had stepped the same steps as I was now; rumour has it they hosted Queen Victoria in the late nineteenth century.
