London, England - September 1920
Henry glanced up at the timetable in the Waterloo Station, his narrowed gaze scanning the lettering to find the platform number he needed for the 10:45 service to Weymouth, calling at Southampton; his ultimate destination. It had been a tough week since that fateful night when he was caught in that alleyway with that handsome Italian envoy. In the week since, he'd been constantly on edge; mostly the doing of his rather overbearing father and his obsession with getting Henry out of the country with utmost urgency.
Henry ultimately settled on the name 'Henry Dunmurry' as an alias; Dunmurry was his Mama's maiden name and surname of the Dukes of Ulster, influential Anglo-Irish noblemen of which his maternal Grandpapa was one. Henry was well born to say the least; his paternal ancestors had noble English blood that traced back to the Plantagenets, as well as connections to Southern European noble families through his Granny's Bourbon ancestry. On his mother's side however, he had Anglo-Irish blood through his grandfather, tracing back to the Tudor conquest of Ireland, as well as his maternal grandmother being a daughter of Queen Victoria herself and thus making him cousins to half the royals in Europe.
Nonetheless Henry always felt like the odd one out in his terribly well born and often out-of-touch noble family; he was thankful for the privilege and luxuries he'd been born into but there was always something missing. A yearning of sorts that left him willing a different life; a simpler, more common life. He loved his parents dearly, cherished his grandparents whilst they were alive, looked up to his eldest brother Edward, and cared for his younger sister Georgina, and tolerated his other older brother Matthew; Matthew and Henry didn't exactly get on well, mostly Matthew's doing since he'd always been absolutely beastly to his wretched little brother ever since they were children. But now here Henry was, standing in Waterloo Station about to bid his family farewell; embarking on a journey across the Atlantic...to Canada.
Whilst deployed in the battlefield hospitals of France, Henry befriended many other servicemen from around the Commonwealth; one young Army Doctor from Canada in particular who served alongside Henry was Adrien Bilodeau who went on to be one of Henry's closest friends and a welcome wartime companion before he eventually went home to Canada to work as a surgeon in Québec City.
Granny's suggestion to go to Canada set of a barrage of lightbulbs in the young Henry's head; and he wasted no time in sending a telegram to his friend in Québec to ask a favour of him. He waited patiently with bated breaths as the telegram travelled across the Atlantic and back with a hopeful heart. In the days it took to hear back Henry received a courier from the Home Office with brand new identification documents and passport with a cut out window across the top revealing the handwritten name 'Henry Dunmurry'. Once he got word from Adrien that he'd be more than willing to host him whilst he figured out his future in Canada, all plans were set in motion.
"Platform 11..." Henry said softly with a conflicted huff; he hadn't slept a wink the night before just as one tends to do the night before embarking on a consequential journey. But for Henry this wasn't any old holiday to the seaside; he felt this conflicting slurry of emotions within his head, anxiousness as to what the future holds mixed with an understandable fear for setting off on his own in a new country where he only knew very few people. But a part of him also felt excitement; a restless iota of him hoping this was a new page that'd prove to be a fresh start where he could be who he wanted without the heavy expectations of the English aristocracy weighing him down.
He cocked his head to the side to see his older brother Edward standing silently with a next to him before the timetable; a warm smile forced across his handsome face though his dark brown eyes had sadness in them, sadness that his darling little brother was leaving. Edward had always been so protective of his younger brother but Papa still warned Henry that it wasn't in his best interest for his brothers to know his secret. Though Edward would likely try to help despite his discomfort of his brothers 'perversions' as he'd likely perceive it, Henry's other brother Matthew would likely not be so kind to his brother's situation.
Henry leaned a bit forward to see Matthew standing on the other side of Edward as he stared down towards his shoes with a smirk plastered across his face; to put it lightly Matthew didn't hate Henry, he absolutely despised him. He despised the way everyone was so charmed by his little brother; who for a good nine years was the baby of the family until Georgina was born. He hated how Henry could literally get away with murder should the situation arise, and though Henry still somehow managed to admire and look up to Matthew, he knew in his heart that if Matthew ever found out about his sexuality it was likely that Scotland Yard would have an arrest warrant for poor Henry within the hour. It went without saying that Matthew was likely chuffed to bits that his hated little brother was leaving them.
"I wish you'd reconsider..." Edward said softly, his voice sincere and his eyes seeping with care and love for Henry; he was about five years older than Henry and especially whilst at boarding school Edward acted more like a father to Henry than an older brother. "We'll all miss you terribly."
"Not all of us." Sneered Matthew as he folded his arms over his chest with an irritated look on his face. Henry felt his heart sink in his chest as he lowered his gaze to the ground; he told himself that he hated Matthew, but deep inside his heart he still clung tot he slightest hope that his cruel, hateful brother might one day make amends with him.
"Matthew, why don't you go somewhere." Edward scolded before making his way back to the rest of the family on the platform, leaving Edward and Henry alone for a second.
"Don't listen to him, Harry." Edward shot Henry a supportive smile. "When it comes to it, he'll be the one to miss you most."
"I doubt that highly, but... Thank you for saying it regardless." Henry sighed as he glanced up at his older brother's kind eyes, sensing a glint of dread in them. "And...Thank you for always being so kind to me. I love you."
"I-I love you too, Harry. But..." Edwards lips gently parted as his eyes seemed to wash over with a sudden realisation. "You... You're not coming back... Are you?"
"It's not quite that simple Edw-"
"There's something going on here, isn't there..." Edward whispered lowly, glancing over across the platform to see his father, the Duke, clenching his fists in anguish as he stood with the rest of the family; hardly the look one would expect of a man sending his youngest son off across an ocean. "What exactly is going on here, Harry?"
"I promise to write often." Henry said softly, evading the question as best he could.
"Whatever's the matter, you can tell me, Harry. I can help you. You're my little brother, I'll always be here for you. You realise that, surely." Edward said genuinely as his warm, loving brown eyes locked steadfast with Henry's deep sea blues. "No matter what..."
"You see, brother. I'm afraid you're wrong in that regard." Henry closed his eyes and pursed his lips to hide his pain. "I don't think you'd be there for me if you knew... Anyway enough of this, we should really ought to get back onto the platform, the train will be in soon." He said dismissively as he turned around to join the rest of the family.
"Whenever you'd go out to the pub or clubs late at night. I used to tell you to be careful." Edward started, making Henry to dead in his tracks. "Had you ever wondered why?" Henry felt his heart stop in his chest, as though the breath was knocked clear out of him. "I know, Henry..."
"Edward, y-you...B-but H-how...?" Henry whipped back around and locked eyes with his brother; they looked so cosy, so understanding, so empathetic.
"I know everything." Edward nodded reassuringly. "I've known since you were a little toddler playing in my lap. I knew my little baby brother was different, and I knew one day he'd need to act upon his differences with the utmost discretion."
"You know... And... You're not disgusted by me?" Henry eked out the words breathily as he felt his heart practically beating through his chest.
"Not in the slightest." Edward whispered with a slight smile. "Come now, Henry. You're acting as though our lot never come across men like you; hell, half the men downstairs are of your persuasion. And you'd be surprised what many of our lot get up to behind closed doors."
"Well not terribly surprised, but don't lets get into that..." Henry muttered, furrowing his brows perplexedly. "I just-I-I don't know what to say..."
"There's nothing to say, Harry." Edward smiled at him with a tinge of pity in his eyes. "Canada is still British, they may have their own Parliament and a degree of legislative autonomy after Confederation, but most of their laws are still remain British. I implore you to exercise caution whilst there. If anything more-so, because Papa and his influential reach won't save you if you're plain old 'Dr Henry Dunmurry', a cottage hospital general practitioner from a small farming village in Hertfordshire."
"I understand." Henry nodded pensively; he had a point. Canada was still a Dominion and for decades to come until the Canada Act 1982, British Parliament would reserve the right to pass laws that could be implemented in Canada and even amend the Canadian constitution whilst sitting in Westminster should the need arise. Henry was travelling somewhere where he had a degree of anonymity, but it wouldn't be a safe haven for his 'sort'.
In a way, though Henry was starting anew in a new land, he was taking a risk; should he be caught in a situation that he had been the outcome would likely be worlds away from what had transpired. Had that underground pub been in Montréal rather than London, young Henry would likely be in jail awaiting trial; but with his family's powerful connections, aristocratic privileges, and far-reaching influences he was far better off.
"I want you to write me whenever you can." Edward said softly, glancing over to see his father staring at them with a cold unfeeling glare. "I expect regular letters. Send me a telegram if you ever need anything. Remember Papa is old friends with the Governor General over there should you ever find yourself in trouble. You'll be jolly far away, but always remember that you're never alone. Not truly. And don't you worry about Papa, he'll come round soon enough."
Henry smiled at his older brother mutedly as he felt his heart swell ever so slightly in his chest; it was strange to think that he was so casual about the matter, but he chose not to question it. In his heart he felt so alone, and though he wasn't naive enough to believe that Edward understood him, not with his perfect little family with a wife, a daughter, and all; but his words were enough to make Henry feel like he wasn't so alone after all.
Edward patted Henry on the shoulder lovingly as they made their way back onto the platform to wait for the train. He bid farewell to all his family; his Granny, his Mama, his sister, his sister-in-law, Matthew grudgingly, and Edward again. Henry would glance towards his Papa every so often as he a few feet away looking on with a stressed disappointment in his eyes; he wanted him to say goodbye, he wanted him to say it'd all be alright.
It wasn't long before the train pulled up to the platform, the residual steam from the engine wafting about as the sound of the whistle warned passengers to join the train. Henry could feel a knot in the back of his throat as he held back the urge to cry; he'd always been told it wasn't very English to cry, and certainly not in public.
"Send a telegram as soon as your ship docks to let us know you've reached safely." Said Georgina as she caressed her brother's cheek, giving him a soft, chaste kiss before hugging him tightly.
"I will." Henry chuckled to keep the tears at bay that he could practically feel moistening his deep blue eyes. "Try to get on with Mama, and pay attention to your lessons."
"I love you, Harry." Georgina said softly as Henry felt his lower lip beginning to give way.
"I love you too, Georgie." He replied, placing a soft kiss on her blond tresses.
"Uncle Harry!" Henry smiled as he felt small hands tugging on the leg of his trousers. He glanced down to see his little niece, Anna staring up with those big innocent eyes of hers. She beckoned him with her little hand, prompting her uncle to kneel down to the little toddler's eye level with a sweet smile. "Uncle Henry, I've brought you a gift." She said with a pout as she handed a deep leather-bound book to her beloved uncle.
"Oh, for me?" Henry smiled lovingly, taking the book out of the little girl's hand and flipping through the gold-leaf edged pages, only to them entirely blank. "A diary?"
"Father Christmas gave it to me Christmas last." She said sweetly earning her a smile from her handsome uncle; Henry's Mama gave it to her for Christmas last year, though Henry didn't understand what she could possibly be thinking. What in God's name could a three year old possibly do with a blasted diary?
"But poppet, don't you want to keep it. You could use to paper to write me a letter once you've learnt how." Henry offered, affectionately pinching the little girl's cheek.
"I want you to have it so you'll won't forget me." Anna said softly, sending a pang though Henry's chest.
"I'll never forget you, poppet." Henry cooed genuinely, paternally caressing her cherubim cheeks with the back of his hand.
"And you can write me stories about your adventures!" Annie bounced with excitement. "Then when you come home you can tell me stories!" Henry's smile faltered ever so slightly at that, glancing up towards his father to his cold dark eyes staring down at him unfeelingly. The truth of the matter was that Henry had no return ticket booked; though unspoken, it was quite clear to Henry that he shan't be England for the foreseeable future.
"Sounds like a plan, poppet." Henry said soft before the little girl beckoned him once again to come closer. Henry smiled, knowing exactly what was going to happen; he leant closer giving his cheek tot he girl and allowing her to give him a loving peck before he pulled his little niece in for a warm loving hug.
"My dear Harry..." Henry's mother walked up to him; her hand moving up to caress the raven haired boy's alabaster skin. "Take care of yourself, my darling boy. I love you with all my heart."
"And I, you mama." Henry flashed her a pained smile, his melancholic eyes briefly flashing towards his very irritated looking father standing at a distance from the rest of the family.
"He'll come round, dear." Henry's Mama whispered with a smile. "Well, perhaps he won't in the way you wish, but you're his pride and joy and you leaving will eat him up inside. He loves you the most."
"Forgive me, Mama. But I'm not sure I quite believe that." Henry chuckled to hide his pain. "Papa has been disappointed with me since I decided to study medicine, since I decided to go to Oxford instead of Cambridge. Remember, when I lost the gold Faberge pocket watch Uncle Nicky gave me for my Christening, he didn't speak to me for a month!" Henry's Uncle Nicky was really his Mama's Cousin though they called him Uncle fondly, that is after bowing and addressing him as 'Your Imperial Highness'.
"It was terribly sentimental dear..." Mama sighed knowingly, a tinge of sadness in her eyes for her late Cousin who had been executed by the Bolsheviks along with his wife and children. On the event of Henry's Christening, Uncle Nicky brought him a gold Faberge stopwatch with a beautiful pearl inlay and diamonds encrusted on the watch-face where the numbers were meant to be. Henry kept it with him as a talisman of luck since he was a child and took it to France with him when he was deployed; but unfortunately somewhere along the way he'd lost it. The family was disappointed that it'd been lost not because it was valuable, but because it was given with so much love and affection. Love and affection from a beloved cousin who was no longer; Uncle Nicky, or as the world knew him, Tsar Nicholas II.
"Don't worry about that now, dear. You've a train to join." Henry's Mama forced a smile, cupping her son's face lovingly as her broken blue eyes fought the tears that she felt gathering in her tear ducts. "God speed, dear Harry. I wish you every happiness in the world..."
The whistle blew once again, warning the passengers to board as he made his final goodbyes to everyone except his father, who had yet to truly acknowledge him or the fact that he'd likely never see him again in this life. International travel was a terribly expensive and dubious matter in that day and age, and it was likely that once Henry made his way over to Canada, he'd never see his homeland ever again.
"You all go on ahead to the motor, I'll join you. I want to speak to my son." Papa said coldly, though Henry felt his heart flutter ever so slightly hearing his father call him son for the first time in the week since that fateful night. The older man waited as the family cleared off, glancing around to ensure nobody was around. "I trust you've gathered by now that you won't be seeing any of them again." He began, glancing up to see his son nod with an empty look in his deep blue eyes. "I've given you enough money to sustain yourself for a while, but that all stops whilst you're away. Our family's coffers will remain locked to you, Henry."
"I understand, Papa."
"Right, well. I'll leave you to it, then." Papa's tone remained fridgid though the slight crack in his voice gave away how he truly felt; his darling boy was going away and though in his heart he knew it was wrong, he, like many an aristocratic Edwardian man would have, chose honour and reputation over his own flesh and blood. "I wish it didn't have to be like this, but I wish you the very best of luck and a safe journey... Goodbye Henry." He let out a heart wrenching sigh as he turned on his heels, turning his back physically on his son just as he had figuratively a week prior.
"I didn't choose this for myself, Papa." Henry said softly, watching his father's neck tense up visibly as he stopped dead in his tracks. "I didn't choose to be who I am. If I had a say in it, I know bloody well I wouldn't choose this for myself. I wouldn't choose ridicule, scandal, hatefulness from society. I wouldn't choose to lose my family in the process. I didn't choose to be different. I didn't choose to be who I am Papa, but I am who I am and I am not ashamed of it..."
Papa stopped for a second, standing still as the final whistle called for the last of the passengers to join the train. He didn't dare turn around and look back at his son, and instead made a decision that he'd likely regret for the rest of his life. He couldn't bare to look into those beautiful blue eyes and see what sort of emotion they held; so instead he walked straight, continuing away from the platform not so much as sneaking a glance at his young boy.
Henry felt his heart sink in his chest though he didn't dare show it on the outside, only allowing himself the slightest sigh as he watched his father disappear into the crowd of Waterloo station; likely the last he'd see of the man. He stepped towards the train carriage and climbed up the metal steps into the First Class car; a numbness of sorts permeating through his body the entire way there and as opening his designated First Class compartment to see his bags already neatly stacked inside by a Station Porter.
Henry shut the sliding door to the compartment to find himself completely alone for the first time in a while. He sat down onto the uncomfortable train seat as he felt all the emotions he'd kept locked and buried deep within the dark recesses of his mind come rushing up to the surface. He sat numbly as he stared mindlessly out the train window onto the platform; as he watched the train leave the station, watching the station turn into the city, and the city into the rolling countryside.
He cried the entire route to Southampton, knowing that once he got off this train and onto the ship he would no longer be Lord Henry Aldringham, son of the Duke of Hertford; he'd be Henry Dunmurry, an ordinary, common country doctor. He cried, mourning the loss of his family, mourning the end of life as he'd known it, mourning for the loss of his home and country... Mourning the death of 'Lord Henry Aldringham'.