Wednesday, June 27, 2007, Wessex, England
Ancestral Estate of the Lancastrians of Wessex

The moment was finally at hand.
 
Seamus and Thane had arrived as planned, in black-tie, unaware.
 
They probably expected a birthday celebration marking my 37th year of existence.
 
What they got is something they would never expect.
 
But I had planned it the day immediately after her elimination.
 
I realize now that this is something I should have done in 1993, after my Father’s death.  I was mesmerized though by the money and status and abused both equally.
 
I was a drunk, over-sexed 23 year old with billions of pounds – only thanks to my Father’s and his predecessors’ work and investment – at my disposal.
 
I was debauched and shamed countless women, my family, even the Palace, but none so worse than myself.
 
Marissah saw this all, knew it all, and took advantage of it to the fullest extent.
 
It was time to put an end to all of it.
 
And that was what this moment was for. 
 
My duty was clear.  I am now going to serve my family, my ancestors, my name, and my heritage to the best of my ability.
 
I stand outside the two solid oak doors, carved centuries ago flawlessly by master craftsmen, donned in black.  I wear all the regalia – sword, emblems, and accouterments befitting my station as Duke of Wessex, but none as important as the Chain of Nobility.  This centuries old silver chain bore the family crest of the Lancastrians of Wessex since the Norman Invasion of 1066.  It is in remarkably good shape given its age and the wars and bloodshed it has seen.
 
I await my signal: three stiff hits on the floor by James, who is dressed very well I must say, with a wooden staff, followed by his pronouncement of my title and station.
 
It should be anytime now.
 
I shouldn’t be nervous, but the anticipation is a bit much.
 
This is a very momentous occasion, and nothing shall ever be the same, ever again, after this.
 
My white gloved hand grips the small ceremonial mace in eagerness, as the light catches off the Chain of Nobility just so.
 



KNOCK.
 
KNOCK.
 
KNOCK.
 


Finally.
 


“Your Ladyship, Master Edward, gentlemen.  The Most High, Noble and Potent Prince His Grace Robert Edward James Lancaster II, by the Grace of God, Duke of Wessex.”
 
One of the solid oak doors opens as James stands to the side, door in hand.
 
I swallow slowly and enter the small drawing room, which has a complimenting single small oak wooden table sitting in its centre.  I walk past James, who bows his head respectfully, as does those assembled: Thane Kushner, Seamus Finnegan, my ex-wife, and my son, who looks slightly bored.  I smile at him and all who nod at me as well.
 
Thane and Seamus stand with their hands behind their backs, whereas Stephanie stands beside the small table, Edward in front of her with her hands on his shoulder.  She looks beautiful in a deep marine blue dress, accentuated with diamond earrings and diamond necklace.
 
I approach the table and Thane and Seamus move to my flanks: Thane to the right, Seamus the left.
 
The document sits with a calligraphy styled pen sitting uncapped to its right.  I have seen it a thousand times, had my lawyers look at it and even sent a draft to Buckingham Palace for the sake of review; but this time it stares back at me.
 
I say a small prayer in my mind as I place the mace down on the table, and pick up the pen.  I take a deep breath and expel.  With slow, deliberate, neat movement,
 
I sign it.
 
I pass it to Seamus.
 
He signs it.
 
He passes it to Thane.
 
He signs it.
 
And it is done.
 
I turn to my son, who looks up at me and smiles.
 
I lift the Chain of Nobility from off my shoulders and lean down, and place it around his neck.  It hangs heavily on him I know, and hangs near his waist.
 
But it is his now.
 


And I am nothing.
 

Robert Edward James Lancaster II, Duke of Wessex,
is history.


I take my son's hand, and with a look of puzzlement in his eyes, I bow my head to him in fealty, showing my allegiance to him as the de jure Duke of Wessex - although he will not take on this role until 18.

I now leave him, the lands, and everything else in my ex-wife's capable hands.

James then switches on a small recorder, which plays our national anthem, to which we all stand at attention.

God save our gracious Queen,
Long live our noble Queen,
God save the Queen:
Send her victorious,
Happy and glorious,
Long to reign over us:
God save the Queen.
 
 
We depart the drawing room, and for a few hours after we chat and stand in the dining hall of the Estate, enjoying the refreshments laid out for all of us.  I thank everyone for attending and for their help, and say farewell to James, Lili, and the staff of the Estate who have served me so faithfully for these many years.
 
A car waits for me outside and I enter, for my journey to Heathrow and back to Toronto.
 
I leave the United Kingdom a changed man on a British Airways flight.
 
A tear creeps into my eye, and I wipe it.  But for the first time in almost twenty years, I smile inwardly.
 
I can be that which I am.
 
Finally.
 




But what am I?

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