Chapter Text
Matthew takes things slowly. He acclimates. He spends forever wondering if he should do something rather than outright taking an action. He doesn’t speak for hours at a time, and he sometimes likes to disappear into the wilderness. He was born one day without realizing that it had happened, and for a long, long time, he knew two constants in his life: he was the northern land, and his brother was the southern land. And the two of them had been stuck like glue for days, weeks, months, or years before everything changed rather suddenly.
One day, his brother was there. The next, he was not.
And Matthew never quite knew what to make of that.
Days, weeks, months, and years went by. Decades. Matthew gets a new name and a father after spending half a century alone. But Matthew doesn’t really know who he is, because he was so used to defining himself by pointing at his brother and saying, “We’re opposites, but we’re the same.”
It all started one day when some men taking count of how many souls lived in the north took notice of him. Weeks or months later, a man named Francis Bonnefoy introduced himself to him. Matthew—Kanata, back then—would have disappeared into the woods the first chance he got after that, but the man said that he recognized him. He recognized him because he had met his brother on one occasion, and they were the same. The concerning thing at the time was the hidden context in that—why would this man assume Matthew was a twin and not the original unless he knew something had happened. That’s when he explained something that Matthew—still Kanata—had spent decades wondering about.
Some other person, a person like them (because Francis was definitely not a normal man), had laid claim to his brother’s land, and his brother got swept up in something called England. A man called England. A man that Francis very much didn’t like, and he made sure you knew it, but never stopped talking about. Francis was loud in the same way that his brother had been, and they might even have the same hearts.
Francis left him alone. He returned periodically and would complain about England, and he would talk about his plans for a place he was calling New France, which just so happened to be the place they were standing. Things went on like this, very slowly, for a very long time. Just the way Matthew liked it.
And then, one night before the first snow of the winter, Francis asked him if he wanted to sleep at his house to stay warm. Matthew didn’t really have trouble staying warm, but Francis reminded him of his brother.
And then Matthew kept going over there whenever he got tired of being alone, all because Francis reminded him of his brother.
And then Matthew ended up staying there more often than not, and he had his own room. It was at this point that Matthew was given his new name, because Francis didn’t want anyone thinking his name was Canada, which is what they were calling this part of New France.
And then Francis taught him about religion, which Matthew didn’t really get at first but came to understand.
And then Francis would go, but that was fine, because Matthew would just go back to the woods, which is what he had been doing for years anyway. Francis would return and come find him, and Matthew would go back to the house. It was a cycle.
But Matthew got more and more attached to the man, because he reminded him of his brother, yes, but also because he was something else. Something Matthew also didn’t understand, because it wasn’t something he’d ever had before. It all came to a head when Francis had to leave again, and Matthew felt a new void in him next to the one caused by his brother.
And then Francis was back, and Matthew cried about it, and Francis said, “Don’t worry, little one. Papa has returned.”
And that’s how Francis became Papa, and Matthew got a father without really realizing it happened. That was the nice thing about acclimating. Things that might be scary happened very slowly, so much so that you don’t notice it, and by the time that you do, you realize it was never actually that scary. Scary things, like the loss of his brother, happened quickly. Safe things, like Papa, were slow.
War is something that doesn't fit into Matthew’s equation. War crept up slowly, and then happened very quickly, and then went slow again, and then it usually ended suddenly. It seemed that Papa was anxious about the war for a long time before it happened, which prepared both of them for it once that time came. But then the fast part was quite shocking, and Francis had to leave periodically because of it, which slowed it down again. During the war, Papa told him to stay and wait at the house if he ever had to leave, so Matthew wouldn’t run into trouble in the wilderness. So Matthew stayed there alone with Papa’s house staff, which isn’t something he usually did.
Eventually, the fighting ended in Canada, and Papa had to leave. They said goodbye the way that they usually did, nothing special. Papa figured he would be back a little later than normal because of the war, but he promised to come back with all sorts of foreign goods from Europe to make up for it. He promised to write, which he did frequently. Matthew never could send anything back because Papa was moving around so much, but he was kept up to date on the goings on in Europe (as up to date as things can be when it takes months for the correspondence to arrive).
One day, the house received an urgent letter, shorter than usual.
Matthieu, my treasure,
I apologize for how quick this will be, but I must warn you so that you are not blindsided. We have lost the war, as you know, and the powers that be in France have decided to cede our territory in North America to England. No matter how hard I fought, they would not listen. New France was not as profitable as some of our island colonies, and they decided that was what they wanted to keep. It is times like these that I am reminded that at the end of the day, I am one voice.
I am distraught. This is worse than any hurt I received during the fighting. I am not being permitted to travel back to North America at this time to keep the peace with England. I will see you again, my dear, but I do not know when.
All is not lost. Do not be afraid when England comes for you, or when the British occupation of Canada intensifies. Go along with whatever he asks. Remember, I believe he is in possession of your brother. I hope that he is as kind as you are, and that England has not turned him into something else. I hope that you find him, and he will help you.
England will likely want to bring you to the United Kingdom to parade around what he has won. Do not be afraid—if you end up in England, I will not be far. Stay at the house so that I may have an eye on you, and soon I will send instructions on where to meet me should you end up in Europe.
I love you, my dear. I am so sorry that this has happened. I will find a way back to you.
Your loving father,
F.B.
Every day after that point, Matthew is on edge. He doesn’t know when it will happen, or how it will happen, but England is coming. The loss of his father hurts just as much, or maybe worse, than the loss of his brother, because Matthew has had years to come to terms with the fact that his twin was gone. This is new. He stops sleeping in his own bed, instead staying in his father’s now vacant room. He hardly wants to eat unless it is forced onto him.
He spends weeks, months crying his heart out about it. The house staff are at a loss for what to do—the man they worked for was gone and not coming back, and Matthew was there alone. But the Frenchmen were loyal and stood guard over the place for as long as they could.
Six months pass, and the British arrive.
Matthew can hear their loud footsteps as they take over, and pounding traveling up the stairs. Thanks to his father’s warning, this isn’t as shocking as it would have been. It’s still horrible, but nowhere near as awful as it had been to realize that, months ago, he’d said goodbye to his father for the last time without realizing it. Once again, life has passed him by.
That was another bad thing about acclimating. The scary stuff passed you by, sure, but so did the good parts.
The steps grow closer, and Matthew hears every door down the hall open. Finally, the door to Papa’s room opens. Matthew peeks out from where he had been hiding in a pile of pillows and blankets and spots him. England. The man who has caused every major hurt in Matthew’s life without even knowing it.
England smiles devilishly as he spots Matthew. But something odd happens, as he pauses suddenly in the middle of his approach. The man stares at him, concentration forming on his brow.
Then, he says, “noʎ ʞool ǝʞıl ʎɯ pǝɹɟlɐ˙”
Matthew does not understand it at all. England gets over whatever has bothered him quickly, and he continues to the bed. He actually reaches out and pulls away some of the blankets hiding Matthew, which he very much does not appreciate. But he’s stuck unmoving from a combination of fear of the man and anger towards him for all that he has done. Grief at losing his father. Trepidation to think that this man might be the ticket to his brother.
England frowns again. “noʎ ʎllɐǝɹ ʞool ǝʞıl pǝɹɟlɐ˙ pooƃ pɹol' s,ʇı ǝʞıl ƃuıʞool uı ɐ ɹoɹɹıɯ˙”
“…I don’t speak English,” Matthew mutters. “I don’t understand.”
England’s jaw drops, “ǝɥʇ uɯɐp ƃoɹɟ ʇ,upıp ɥɔɐǝʇ noʎ ɥsılƃuǝ¿”
Matthew can only stare at him. The man looks haggard, his eyes tired and his cropped blond hair lying flat across his forehead. His skin looks lifeless, like Matthew is in the presence of a ghost.
The man blows out a huge puff of air, which Matthew understands to mean that he is very tired of his situation. He then starts making a repeated noise while motioning upwards.
Matthew blinks.
England decides that he is done with waiting and reaches out to grab Matthew by the arm. Matthew feels his heart drop with fear as the man drags him out of the safety of his father’s bed. Once up, he lets go of him and begins to head for the door. Matthew doesn’t move. England notices this and sighs heavily again before repeatedly motioning for Matthew to follow him.
There’s nothing else to be done, so Matthew does. This man has his brother. This man is his ticket to Europe. So, Matthew might as well go along with it. That’s what Papa told him to do.
They head downstairs, and Matthew must remind himself to keep breathing when he sees all of the British soldiers in the house. Two are in the main living room, along with the French staff on the couch. Madame Eleanor Allard, the housemaid and cook, has her arms wrapped anxiously around herself. Monsieur Laurent, the stablehand, is looking around defiantly at the men.
England motions for Matthew to go to the couch with the others, and he sandwiches himself between them. He whispers, “What is happening?”
Laurent grimaces, “The occupation has begun.”
England sits down across from them and grins at them, “ǝuoʎuɐ ǝɹǝɥ ʞɐǝds ɥsılƃuǝ¿”
To Matthew’s surprise, Eleanor answers. She raises a timid finger and replies to him in English. England claps his hands together, glad to hear it, and begins to speak directly to her. Once he is done, she takes a shaky breath and turns to Matthew. “His name is Lord Arthur Kirkland, and he says that he is here to save you.”
Matthew’s permanent frown deepens, “I don’t need to be saved, I need Papa to come home.”
She stares at him for a moment before, presumably, telling England his name. The man shakes his head and says, “Matthew Kirkland.”
No, that’s not right.
England goes on to say something else, which Eleanor translates, “He says that you are his son, now, and that you are no longer French.”
But Matthew isn’t really French—he never has been. He just speaks French, and his father is French. That doesn’t make Matthew French, and their loss of the war certainly doesn’t make him English.
He’s French-adjacent.
Eleanor continues, her voice shaking, “He will be staying here until the end of the year, and then he will be taking you and heading east to the British Colonies.”
Something like hope sparks in Matthew, because that was his brother’s land. Does England truly have him? He wants to ask, but before he can, Laurent snaps, “He can’t take Matthew! He is not Kirkland’s to take!” Addressing England, he says, “Your people may be in control of this land, but you cannot kidnap a child!”
The soldiers standing guard in the room glance at each other, and Matthew notices one of them putting a hand on the knife hanging from his belt.
England arches one of his thick brows at them, “ı ǝʌɐɥ ou ɐǝpı ʇɐɥʍ noʎ ʇsnɾ pıɐs˙” He ignores Laurent’s outburst and asks Eleanor a question. Her face blanches once he finishes speaking.
“Ah,” she says nervously, “he wants to know if you will be obedient.”
Matthew very much does not want to be obedient to this man, but his father had told him to go along with whatever he said. This man has his brother, maybe. That is all Matthew keeps telling himself. If he fights back (which, how would he even do that if he wanted to?), he may be stuck here in Canada. If he allows England to do as he pleases, there is a chance he may see his papa again, and an even bigger chance that he’ll see his brother again. Resisting isn’t going to help him achieve either of those things.
“Oui,” Matthew says to England, and England understands.
𓆟 𓆟
England lives in the house with them, allowing the staff to stay. He is gone for most of the day, off doing some business that Matthew cares nothing about. Matthew has claimed his father’s bedroom as his own, and England takes one of the other spares down the hall. They really only see each other at breakfast and dinner, and England has Eleanor sit at the end of the table so she can translate what he says. Matthew tries to pick out familiar words from what he says, but it is impossible. He’d learned French very slowly, the way he liked to do things, and this man expects him to figure out a brand new language overnight.
The darkness of winter arrives, and Matthew spends most of his time despairing over the loss of his family and the way that England has inserted himself into the role of Father without even asking. He still receives and writes letters to Papa whenever he gets the chance, and his real father tells him to keep his chin up. After the rain comes the good weather. He’s almost positive that England has his brother, and he tells Matthew to keep that in mind.
But England is such a… Matthew cannot find a good word to describe it. Not foul. Not vile. Self-centered, maybe. He’s a self-centered man, and if his brother has been with him for over a century, how will that have changed him? Matthew is almost afraid to know.
But he has hope. It is the only thing he can have.
After living with England for a few months, the man announces that it is time for them to go. His words through Eleanor’s voice, he says, “We are going to go to Boston, and then to London so that you can meet your new king.”
At first, Matthew is excited. This means that he is one step closer to potentially meeting his brother and finding Papa. And then he realizes what it really means—leaving Canada, a month of travel, and the loss of the house staff. The staff were the only ones keeping him grounded to his old life, and Eleanor was the only reason why Matthew knew what England wanted at any given time.
He’s been given a small crate to pack away any items he wants to keep, which isn’t nearly enough room. He’s afraid to leave behind anything precious, but Eleanor and Laurent assure him that they will not be abandoning the house.
The night before they are set to leave, Eleanor passes him a folded piece of parchment. Upon inspection, there’s a phrase written in English.
“This is where your father will be in London,” she whispers.
Matthew stares at the paper, “I can’t read this.”
She reads the address in English, the words rhyming in a satisfying way. 28 Queen Anne’s Gate. “You’ll have to find a map,” Eleanor replies. “I’m sorry that I cannot help you more than this.”
It may not be much use to him now, but it’s something. This is where Papa is going to be. He’d promised to find a way to meet with Matthew, and he has. Papa never breaks a promise.
Matthew cannot help but cry as he says goodbye to the staff the next morning. Laurent is more angry than upset—ranting about how what England is doing is wrong. He doesn’t know that they aren’t exactly human and that things don’t work for them the same way, but Matthew agrees. It is wrong that a war can just redraw the lines of his family tree, and Matthew must suffer the consequences. It is wrong that England can just waltz in like everything is fine and turn everything upside down.
Matthew sits across from England in the carriage and watches with teary eyes as he is removed from Papa’s house by the lake. Once it is out of his view, he turns to England, who is watching him with a strange expression.
After a moment, the man says, “ǝɥʇ dıɹʇ llıʍ ǝq ƃuol’ ʇnq ǝʍ ǝɹɐ ƃuıoƃ oʇ ʞɔıd dn ʎɯ uos˙ noʎ llıʍ ǝʞıl ɯıɥ˙ s,ǝɥ sʎɐʍlɐ pǝʇuɐʍ ɐ ɹǝɥʇoɹq˙”
Matthew sighs, “I don’t understand.”
England frowns in annoyance.
It’s going to be a long journey.
𓆟 𓆟
Barring the loss of his brother and father, Matthew’s trip to the colonies is the worst thing he has ever had to endure. It takes over a month, the way is bumpy, and there is hardly any civilization in this part of the continent to stop and rest at. Matthew has no issue with sleeping in the woods—he’s spent most of his life doing it—but doing it with England is another story. England, whom he hardly knows, doesn’t understand, and has disliked from the moment they met. Scratch that, before then. Matthew hasn’t liked England ever since Papa explained what happened to his brother.
The stress of the whole thing leaves him feeling under the weather.
He’s started to pick up some English words, but not because England ever tries to explain the meaning to him. If Matthew knows it, it’s because he’s figured it out through context. After the third night in a row of England saying goodnight to him before bed, Matthew got it.
England isn’t all bad, but Matthew has a hard time embracing the good parts of him when the bad parts are so awful. Some nights, when they camp in the woods, England sings old folk tunes by their fire. That’s nice. It’s interesting, as all the songs are new to Matthew. But then, if Matthew even thinks for one moment about why he’s in the woods of New England with a stranger, he gets upset again. England gets annoyed when he is upset. It’s a cycle.
By the end of the third worst month of his life, Matthew feels downright sick from all the travel. This is why, when one afternoon, upon their carriage pulling up to a yellow house on a hill, Matthew says a silent prayer of thanks to God. Their cart stops, and England says something to him, probably explaining where they are and what they are doing, but Matthew doesn’t catch any of it. He’s just too exhausted.
Before going inside, he does take notice of the state of the yard and the pasture behind the house. It’s very grown up from a lack of upkeep, which Matthew thinks is strange. The place almost seems abandoned.
And then, when they enter the house, Matthew becomes convinced that it is abandoned. England shouts a name, becoming more exasperated each time, and then gives up.
“Hello?” The man shouts one final time—Matthew knows that one. Hello. Bonjour. He can’t tell how England is feeling in this moment. If he’s angry, or upset, or concerned. All three, maybe.
Matthew yawns, which reminds England that he’s in the room.
The man beckons him to follow him up the stairs, saying, “Come on, goodnight.”
It’s a little early for goodnight, but sure. He’s so tired that he doesn’t care.
Upstairs, England checks the doors of all the bedrooms to see if anyone is around, but no one is. England then picks a room at random and deposits Matthew there, saying something about eating and then leaving.
The blankets on the bed are strewn about, as if a person has been here recently, but everything is coated in a layer of dust. It’s very creepy. Beggars cannot be choosers, so Matthew crawls in and goes to sleep.
He’s shaken awake a few hours later, the sun now close to setting. Still half asleep, Matthew allows the man to take him by the hand and lead him back down the stairs.
“s’ǝɥ ɹnoʎ ɹǝɥʇoɹq,” England is saying. “s’ʇɐɥʍ ǝɥʇ pɹoʍ uı ɹnoʎ ǝƃɐnƃuɐl¿ ı pǝǝu ɐ uɯɐp ʎɹɐuoıʇɔıp˙” The man pushes open a door, and Matthew suddenly becomes very aware that a new person is here.
He looks at this person. A boy a few years older than him. But that can’t be, because this boy has Matthew’s face—a version of it, at least. That’s not possible. They’re supposed to be the same.
The boy looks at him with the same intensity as Matthew does. Almost imperceptively, the boy begins to shake.
England steps forward, pulling Matthew along, “sıɥʇ sı pǝɹɟlɐ˙ ɹnoʎ ɹǝɥʇoɹq˙ ʎlıɯɐɟ˙”
In a hushed tone, the boy says, “Kanata?”
Matthew tears himself away from England in an instant and latches onto his brother. After over a century of not knowing where he was, they are now in the same room. And Matthew had hardly recognized him.
Matthew cries, clutching tightly onto his brother and telling him everything he’s wanted to for all this time. Asking where he had gone, and what he had been doing for all these years. Wondering how he got so tall while Matthew is still so short. Telling him about Papa and the house by the lake.
His brother pulls away and looks him square in the eye, “noʎ uɐɔ llɐɔ ǝɯ pǝɹɟlɐ’ ʍou˙”
Matthew frowns immediately. He’d forgotten that his brother likely spoke English and would not understand him. Well, Matthew doesn’t know what he said either. “I don’t understand,” he says.
But his brother does not get frustrated or annoyed like England does. Instead, he points at himself, “Alfred, Matthew.”
Oh. His brother’s name is Alfred. Matthew cannot help but smile, and he points back at his brother, “Alfred.”
Alfred grins as well, and it is the most beautiful thing Matthew could hope to see. It’s like the sun rising after a dark winter. “Yes!” His brother takes him by the hand and leads him to a seat at the table, where England has already sat down. Alfred points at the man, “Father. Papa.”
Matthew cannot help but feel demoralized at hearing this, and his eyes well up with tears once again. England is Alfred’s Papa. Of course. Part of the disappointment comes from the fact that this man is who Alfred has gotten stuck with, and the other half comes from Alfred himself trying to wedge England into the hole left by Papa.
There’s a commotion, England making a snide comment, and Alfred snapping at him, which surprises Matthew to no end. If anything, it makes him more upset. His brother isn’t supposed to be irritable.
But then Alfred is wrapping his hands around him and saying something that Matthew doesn’t understand, save for the word Kanata. His original name. The one that Alfred had given him. Matthew manages to control his breathing after that.
At least his brother is here, now. A familiar person, even if they can’t understand each other, and even if they are not very familiar anymore. They’ll get along in other ways, Matthew knows it. They were the same, so they had to.
𓆟 𓆟 𓆟
Despite the continued travel, first back in the carriage to the docks, and then the ship, Matthew feels better thanks to the presence of his brother. Every morning, he wakes up and two thoughts enter his head. The first reminds him that he has not seen his father in over a year, and hasn’t been able to send him a letter since they left Canada. This sends him into a fit of despair, but the next thought pulls him out of it. He is reminded that his long-lost brother is asleep in a bunk above his.
Something is off about Alfred, though. Having only been with him for a short time, Matthew does not know how long his brother has been afflicted in this way. He doesn’t quite know what to make of it. Alfred’s eyes follow England all around whichever space they occupy, watching and waiting for something. An opportunity to do something good in England’s eyes, maybe. The chance to say something correct.
But his body remains wound like a spring the entire time, as if he is bracing himself for impact. These two actions are in direct opposition to each other, but Alfred manages both every time. When England leaves, his brother’s muscles relax, and a vaguely sad expression crosses his face. He’s waiting for something, but Matthew doesn’t know what.
England gives him a kiss on the head each night, and Alfred floats away with a smile on his face. Then the following morning, something will happen that wipes it away with ease. It happens every time. It’s a cycle.
After a while, England says that Alfred is sick. Matthew isn’t sure why his brother is sick, but he can see it. There is a heavy weight draped over his brother, and he will not be better until it is removed. But Matthew does not know how to do that.
𓆟 𓆟 𓆟
Alfred thinks that England is possessed by some unholy creature. His brother has very strong opinions about religion and is a very pious individual. These are traits that Matthew never would have guessed about him.
𓆟 𓆟 𓆟
Once they are back on land, Alfred and England get into a huge argument, which Alfred says is about money. Matthew knows that it’s more than that. He doesn’t like to see them fight. It makes his brother so upset, but England doesn’t seem to care.
𓆟 𓆟 𓆟
England, as it turns out, is not possessed by a demon. Something in his brother’s spirit dies.
𓆟 𓆟 𓆟
The two recurring thoughts that Matthew has about his brother and father upon waking up every morning slowly coax him awake. But today is different. Today is different because Matthew has managed to fall asleep not in the immediate vicinity of his brother, and today is different because Matthew is in London.
28 Queen Anne’s Gate.
Matthew throws himself out of bed and dives for his chest of belongings, and fishes around his clothes until he finds the worn piece of parchment. This is where Papa is—it’s been just over a year since he was told about their loss of the war, and Papa’s loss of the northern territory. His loss of Matthew. But Papa knew England well enough to know that he would bring Matthew here, and presumably, he’s here too.
Papa! In London! With Matthew!
Except Matthew cannot read an English map or English street signs. But…
Without even changing out of his night shirt, he leaves his bedroom and crosses the hall to Alfred’s. Interestingly, his brother’s room is a bit more personalized than his is. Matthew is clearly staying in a guest room, but there is no doubt that this room is Alfred’s. A painting of a North American landscape hangs over the bed, and the style of the furniture is completely different from the rest of the house. Old. Colonial. Homey. This must not be his first time visiting here.
It makes sense—Matthew has been to Paris with Papa on a few occasions over the years.
His brother is completely knocked out on the bed, looking far more peaceful in his sleep than he does when he’s awake, especially since the day at church in Prestbury. He’s quieter, now. Matthew does not like it.
Alfred’s face is buried in his pillow, one arm outstretched and hanging off the bed. Matthew approaches quietly, feeling sorry for what he is about to do.
“Alfred,” he whispers in English. “Alfred, wake up.”
No change.
Matthew huffs and switches back to French, “How come after all this time, my brother still sleeps like the dead?”
He pokes him on the cheek. “Alfred!”
One of Alfred’s eyes cracks open, closes again, and then he yawns, muttering all sorts of words that blend together.
“I need your help,” Matthew says, glancing to the door and then back at his brother, who is very slowly sitting up.
Alfred’s eyes are still cloudy with sleep. “Yes?”
Matthew sits on the edge of the bed and takes the paper out of his pocket, and hands it to him, “I need you to find this.”
As Alfred reads over the words, Matthew becomes anxious. Will he want to help him if he knows why Matthew wants to go? He really can’t tell what Alfred thinks about his Papa. His colonies had been against them during the war, the same way Matthew had been against England. Alfred seems to be coming around to the idea of France as Matthew’s father, but France the Nation? Matthew really doesn’t know.
Alfred frowns at the paper, “Where did you get this?”
“…I will tell you if you find it.”
His brother looks at him with uncertainty. “Are you planning on going there?”
Matthew really hoped that Alfred wouldn’t try to stop him. “Non?”
Alfred rolls his eyes. “Because you can’t go alone, if that’s what you think.”
Matthew feels his heart stop. Alfred would really go with him, not even knowing the purpose of the trip? Not even knowing where or how far? “You will go?”
Alfred thinks about it for a few moments more. “You have to tell me what it is.”
“Yes!” Matthew nods along aggressively. “Oui! I will tell you after you find it.”
That is how, many hours after the sun has gone down, Matthew finds himself waiting anxiously in a stranger’s living room. Alfred has not let go of his hand the whole time, and in the dim candlelight, he looks anxious. His muscles are wound up the way they are whenever his father is in the room. He questions the man who had answered the door until the man leaves them, heading upstairs. Suspicion laced in all his words.
Alfred looks down at him and forces a smile, “Papa is here.”
Matthew gasps—he’d figured that was true, but to hear his brother confirm it just sends his heart racing. All of them—his brother, father, and Matthew—under one roof in London.
Thumping sounds from upstairs, and Matthew knows. He just does.
When he sees Papa, he throws himself towards the man. Days, weeks, months, and over a year ago, he’d said goodbye to the man without knowing that would be all they would get. He can feel his father shaking as they embrace, or maybe it’s Matthew who is shaking. Maybe it’s both of them.
Once they’ve finished babbling to each other, Matthew cries, “You were right, Papa. It is him.”
Papa stills and leans down to look at him properly. Matthew can hardly believe it. “What do you mean, my treasure?”
Matthew nods and points back to him, “That’s my brother! You were right, England had him!” Finally looking at him again, Matthew notices that his brother’s eyes are dark.
Papa approaches Alfred, who is frozen solid. “This is your brother?” He asks in English.
But Matthew doesn’t want to struggle through speaking English, so he doesn’t. “Alfred helped me get here—I wouldn’t have been able to do it without him.”
His father shares a few words with Alfred, whose brow seems permanently creased with stress.
They sit and catch up, talking about all of the things that Matthew has wanted to tell him about since they lost the ability to communicate a few months ago. England’s occupation of their house, all the traveling, and, of course, Alfred.
Alfred, who sits by and watches silently, has one thousand emotions in his big, glossy eyes.
The night passes far too quickly, and it takes everything in Matthew to willingly go back to England at the end of the night. But Papa swears that they will see each other again, and once Matthew is done traveling, they will be able to send each other letters again. It’s not enough, of course. The hurt of being separate never ends.
But it is a goodbye that he hadn’t gotten before. One where they both know that their next meeting is not set in stone. But Matthew knows that it will happen, because Papa never breaks a promise.
𓆟 𓆟 𓆟
The following day, England physically strikes his brother after the meeting with the king. The final light in Alfred’s eyes fades, and he spends the rest of the day unmoving and quiet in bed. He skips dinner, and England doesn’t make an effort to remedy it.
𓆟 𓆟 𓆟
England sends Alfred back to North America. This happens suddenly. Matthew doesn’t like things that are sudden, and he hates it when things suddenly happen to his brother which make him disappear for an unknown amount of time. Matthew worries desperately about his brother and wonders if he’ll even be able to survive the trip home in his already depressed state.
𓆟 𓆟
One day in July, the portraits they had posed for are completed. Mr. Florence delivers two parcels. The first is incredibly large and contains the painting of the three of them. It is a beautiful piece of art, but Matthew’s eyes are drawn to the hand of England on his brother’s shoulder and the genuine gleam in his brother’s eye. The corner of his lip is quirked up in a tiny smile.
The second parcel is much smaller and contains a miniature portrait of Alfred. The oval frame is small enough that England tucks it into his breast pocket, but not before Matthew can notice the expression on his brother’s face. Mr. Florence may have tried to pass it off as being a serious look, but Matthew recognizes the thinly veiled melancholy that Alfred had worn nearly constantly after the hand of England made contact with his cheek at Buckingham House.
𓆟 𓆟
One day in October, two letters arrive at the house. One has Matthew’s name on it.
August 8, 1764
Matthew,
I am not sure how much you can understand, so I will try and write this in a simple manner. I will leave out any details that are too personal, should you need to go to someone for help.
I imagine that by the time you receive this, it will be nearly time for you to start making your way across the Atlantic to see me at Christmas, so do not worry about drafting a response (unless something has changed regarding that plan). I arrived home about two weeks ago, and at first, I was at a loss for what to do. Father gave me enough money for me to stay at an inn while I looked for more permanent living arrangements, which I was able to find after a week. He also gave me enough for rent through the end of the year, and I suppose that in December, he will make some arrangement with the landlord about sending payments every month. But I shall not bore you with more talk about that.
The trip alone across the Atlantic was possibly the most difficult thing that I have done. Even the excitement I had about returning home was not enough to overcome the sadness I felt, and still feel, after having to leave you so suddenly. Some days, I feel like my heart has stopped beating and I am simply a wandering corpse. But do not worry about me. The thought of spending time with you this winter, like we did when we were smaller, is keeping me upright.
After securing a place to live, I started looking for employment as Father asked of me. I found a newspaper—a smaller one, not the Boston Gazette—that was willing to take me on as an apprentice. He has a son my age. He has taken to sending me all around town to get interviews with people so that he doesn’t have to do the legwork himself, and he doesn’t mind sending me because I already live alone. Father wrote a recommendation letter for me, but I did not get to see what it said. Mr. Wilson, the owner of the paper, seems to be a nice man.
I cannot wait to see you again. I had hoped we would not be separated once I found you again, but something I have learned over the past few years is that hoping will only get you so far. One must take action to get what they want rather than waiting for good fortune to fall in their lap. I am counting down the days until that fortune visits me.
Your dutiful brother,
Alfred Freegift Kirkland
Matthew is able to understand most of it thanks to his English tutor, and he’s able to glean the full meaning from context. His main takeaway is that Alfred is alright, in one piece, in Boston. That is all he could ask for if his brother could not be next to him. And he’s right—there would be no point in sending a letter now, because they would be leaving in the next week or two.
But he could send one anyway, and then Alfred would know when to expect them. Matthew doesn’t expect England to send back a reply, so he’ll have to make sure it happens. Sure, Alfred said he didn’t have to do it, but Matthew wants to. A few days before they leave, he’ll send it.
Just two more months. And then he’ll finally be back in North America with his brother.
𓆟 𓆟
There have been too many occasions in the past year where Matthew has found himself standing anxiously in front of a door. The glass-half-full interpretation of this is that Matthew should be happy to be reunited with his family. Matthew’s view of things is that he shouldn’t have to be ripped from them in the first place.
After two months on the ocean, he’s made it back to North America. It feels so good to be home. The bittersweet part is that he knows he’ll be going back to England shortly after the new year. But for now, he’s in Boston with his brother.
The door opens, and there Alfred stands, his skin looking more lively than the last time he’d seen him. His brother’s eyes shoot open, and he grabs onto him, hugging him tightly.
Alfred hesitates to hug England. This should be Matthew’s first indication that things are changing, but he doesn’t notice, thanks to the nature of acclimation. A frog boiling in a pot until it is too late.