#Duchy of Lancaster

[noosphe-re]

Flag of the Duchy of Lancaster

[so-where-do-we-go-from-here]

“The Duchy of Lancaster said: “His majesty the king voluntarily pays tax on all income received from the duchy.””

Well that’s good of him. We on the other hand are obliged to pay our tax bills.

A lack of transparency about their finances for institutions which receive public money and pay less tax than we are obliged to, eg inheritance and corporation tax, cannot go on.

[thepastisalreadywritten]

5 February 2024

The King is being treated for cancer, Buckingham Palace has announced.

It has not said what type of cancer the 75-year-old has but confirmed that it was not prostate cancer. The King was recently treated for prostate enlargement.

King Charles III was crowned at Westminster Abbey in May 2023 alongside his wife, Queen Camilla.

How will the King's duties change while he is treated for cancer?

Buckingham Palace said:

"Regrettably, a number of the King's forthcoming public engagements will have to be rearranged or postponed.

His Majesty would like to apologise to all those who may be disappointed or inconvenienced as a consequence."

It said that he was receiving expert care and "looks forward to returning to full public duty as soon as possible."

While the King is recovering, the Queen is expected to continue attending engagements.

"Her Majesty will continue with a full programme of public duties," Buckingham Palace said.

Despite stepping back from public events, the King will continue with paperwork and private meetings as head of state.

What does the King do?

The King is the UK head of state, but his powers are largely symbolic and ceremonial, and he remains politically neutral.

He receives daily dispatches from the government in a red leather box, including briefings ahead of important meetings, or documents needing his signature.

The prime minister normally meets the King on a Wednesday at Buckingham Palace.

These meetings are completely private, and no official records are kept of what is said.

The King also has a number of official parliamentary roles:

Appointing a government — the leader of the party that wins a general election is usually called to Buckingham Palace, where they are invited to form a government. The King also formally dissolves Parliament before a general election

State Opening and the King's Speech — the King begins the parliamentary year with the State Opening ceremony, where he sets out the government's plans in a speech delivered from the throne in the House of Lords

Royal Assent — when a piece of legislation is passed through Parliament, it must be formally approved by the King in order to become law. The last time Royal Assent was refused was in 1708

In addition, the monarch leads the annual Remembrance event in November at the Cenotaph in London.

The King also hosts visiting heads of state, and regularly meets foreign ambassadors and high commissioners.

For his first state visit, Charles visited Germany, where he became the first British monarch to address the country's parliament, speaking in English and German.

The King then travelled to France for a three-day state visit in September and to Kenya for a four-day state visit in October, where he acknowledged the "abhorrent and unjustifiable acts of violence committed against Kenyans during their independence struggle."

He also delivered the opening address at the COP28 climate conference in Dubai in December, where he said: "The Earth does not belong to us."

Charles is also head of the Commonwealth, an association of 56 independent countries spanning 2.5 billion people.

He is head of state for 14 of these, known as the Commonwealth realms, as well as the Crown dependencies - the Channel Islands and the Isle of Man.

The Queen supports the King in carrying out his work and undertakes her own public engagements on behalf of the 90 charities she supports.

Where does the Royal Family get its money?

The Royal Family receives an annual payment from the taxpayer, known as the Sovereign Grant, which is used to pay for official expenses, such as the upkeep of properties and staff costs.

The amount is based on a proportion of the profits of the Crown Estate, a property business owned by the monarch but run independently.

It had assets worth £16.5bn in 2022.

The Sovereign Grant was worth £86.3m in 2022-2023, the same as in 2021-2022.

But total spending for the year was £107.5m, a 5% increase on the £102.4m spent the previous year, with more than £20m drawn from financial reserves to cover the shortfall.

The King also receives money from a private estate called the Duchy of Lancaster, which is passed down from monarch to monarch.

It covers more than 18,000 hectares of land, including property in central London.

Worth £654m, it generates about £20m a year in profits.

The Duke of Cornwall (currently William, Prince of Wales) benefits from the Duchy of Cornwall, which mainly owns land in the south-west of England.

Worth £1bn, it generated a net surplus of £24m in 2022-23.

The King and Prince William receive the profits from the duchies personally, and can spend the money as they wish.

Both voluntarily pay income tax on the proceeds.

In addition, some other Royal Family members have private art, jewellery and stamp collections, which they can sell or use to generate income as they wish.

NOTE: Edited

[wonder-worker]

The Parliamentary Rolls record that in 1482, Elizabeth Woodville was granted “the wardships and the marriages of the heirs of her tenants of so much of the Duchy of Lancaster as she [held] to her own use.”

— Michele Seah and Katia Wright, “The Medieval English Queen as a Landowner”, Women and Economic Power in Premodern European Courts

[shi0n]

played crusader kings 3 so much on my day off that i started seeing dreams where i was forming political marriages and alliances between my mutuals....

[dreamconsumer]

Anne of Burgundy, Duchess of Bedford (1404-1432).

She was a daughter of John the Fearless, Duke of Burgundy.

[adj4mp]

Pat McFadden and the Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster

The role that the Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster seems to fill is one that's simultaneously very important and yet has almost no responsibilities. While Raynor is the deputy leader of the Labour Party and deputy Prime Minister the Duchy of Lancaster is the second highest rank within the Government. And while historically there were responsibilities to the Duchy of Lancaster those have largely been usurped or delegated making the one that's primary responsibility is advisory to the cabinet, PM and King.

In some ways the role is one that mirrors the Speaker for the House, they're the one who chairs meetings and discussions and ensure all the business is brought to the table. Though as chairman they're permitted to have their own say and opinion in meetings a way that the Speaker is not as a representative of the whole house.

McFadden himself was a minister under Gordon Brown, and a Secretary of Tony Blair so his expertise as an advisor comes from his presence during the last Labour Government. He has also worked within the shadow cabinet in several positions giving him a fairly rounded outlook of the role of the cabinet.

This is one of those jobs that I don't really have any opinion about the appointment mainly because I can't really judge the role, it's not especially prominent to the public and the requirements are somewhat unintuitive.

[inky-duchess]

Fantasy Guide to Dukes and Duchesses

This new series will offer an indepth view of each noble title in the standard European hierarchy of noble titles. Here we will discuss what they are, their lands, their jobs and everything you need to know when writing them.

What is a Duke exactly?

A Dukedom is the highest rank in most noble hierarchies. The Duke rules a section of land within the Kingdom known as a Duchy, for example the Duke of Lancaster or can be a standalone title, Duke of Rothesay. A Dukedom is inherited through the family line, from father to so but the title is bestowed on the by the monarch. Monarchs can also give their children Dukedoms, and often do. For example the second son of the King of France would be the Duc d'Orleans.

Titles, Titles

The Duke is the highest ranking in the land. They are the first among the nobility, among the wealthiest, with the most prestige. A Duke is referred to as 'Your Grace'. If one is meeting a Duke in a social setting, nobles would call them Duke whilst underlyings would call them "Your Grace". A Duke would also hold subsidiary such as an Earldom or two, a Barony or three. But would go by Duke as it is the highest title. Fun fact, Carlos Fitz-James Stuart (pic above) has the most titles:

He is: Carlos Fitz-James Stuart, Duke of Alba, Grandee of Spain, Duke of Berwick, Grandee of Spain, Duke of Huéscar, Grandee of Spain, Duke of Liria and Jérica, Grandee of Spain, Count-Duke of Olivares, Grandee of Spain,Marquess of Carpio, Grandee of Spain, Marquess of La Algaba, Marquess of Barcarrota, Marquess of Castañeda, Marquess of Coria, Marquess of Eliche, Marquess of Mirallo, Marquess of la Mota, Marquess of Moya, Marquess of Osera, Marquess of San Leonardo, Marquess of Sarria, Marquess of Tarazona, Marquess of Valdunquillo, Marquess of Villanueva del Fresno, Marquess of Villanueva del Río, Count of Lemos, Grandee of Spain, Count of Lerín, Grandee of Spain, Constable of Navarre, Count of Miranda del Castañar, Grandee of Spain, Count of Monterrey, Grandee of Spain, Count of Osorno, Grandee of Spain, Count of Andrade, Count of Ayala, Count of Casarrubios del Monte, Count of Fuentes de Valdepero, Count of Fuentidueña, Count of Galve, Count of Elves, Count of Modica, Count of San Esteban de Gormaz, Count of Santa Cruz de la Sierra, Count of Villalba, Viscount of la Calzada, Lord of Moguer.

The Family of the Duke

The wife of a Duke is a Duchess. If a Duke is married to a man, while there is no real world examples, I would personally say they would take one of those other subsidiary titles I mentioned above. Same thing with a ruling Duchess and her wife. However, a ruling Duchess's husband usually sticks with whatever title he came with. The heir of the Duke usually inherits their parent's next highest title, usually an Earldom. The other children are styled as Lord/Lady Firstname.

The Role of the Duke

As the Duke is leader of the Duchy, which is a large section of the kingdom. They are in control of this section, the highest power in law and order, politics and all things in that section with only the monarch above. They handle administration at the highest level, raising troops from their duchy for the crown in times of war, see the collection of taxes and sometimes they might even advise the monarch if they are offered a place of the monarch's council. They would also attend the monarch at their coronation.

Cribs

Dukes like a lot of nobility would have multiple houses, manors, estates etc. Their homes would be the grandest in the land and the social hubs for the Duchy and even the country. A Duke would sometimes live at court when invited but would also have the homes in the capital. This vast portfolio can become a source of income as the Duke can rent them out or a handy way to shelf relatives who depended on them.

[so-where-do-we-go-from-here]

[littlepeakydevil]

Part 26: Do You Love Me

Summary: Tommy and Lucy meet a man dangerous enough to frighten them both, and Lizzie reaches a breaking point.

Word Count: 6,543

Warnings: Smut, polyamory, chronic pain, references to violence, past torture, and past sexual assault.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 2: Selfish

“Lizzie is going to be mad about that for a good long while,” Lucy commented, one hand stuffed into her trousers pocket while the other flicked ash from her cigarette down onto the cobblestones. Her eyes swiveled around, taking in the ash, flames, and glowing embers being emitted into the air by the nearby factories. All around them was the bustle of men and women going about their business, children with dirtied faces and knees marked up with scrapes and soot racing through the streets together. She dropped a few shillings into the cup of a young girl who wandered past them. 

The train station that they were headed to wasn’t particularly far, and it was good for the people to see Tommy out amongst them, walking to work and taking the train like any other ordinary working man. So when they could, they made the trek to the train on foot. 

She didn’t mind. It was nice to get out into the familiar smoky air, settled like a black cloud over most of Birmingham. Despite everything, it still felt like it was where she most belonged. In the dirt and flames of hell. 

Though it did mean that they had to keep a professional distance from each other. No hand holding or letting their sides brush and bump. They couldn’t risk looking suspiciously close. Not even in Tommy’s own kingdom of Small Heath.

“Yeah,” Tommy sighed heavily. “But what else is fucking new?”

She cast him a regretful look. “I’m sorry.”

“What? Why? You didn’t even do anything.”

“It always feels like I’m the root cause of most of her anger towards you.”

“No; you’re not.” She felt him casting her a worried look. “It’s not your fault.”

She didn’t tell him that she didn’t believe that. It would only upset him. And he didn’t need to be worrying about her feelings on top of everything else already on his plate.  

“She’s mad because you tell me things that you don’t tell her.”

“Which isn’t fucking new. That’s always how things have been. If she’s only realizing that now…”

“I think she’s more upset about it being thrown in her face than anything else.”

He shook his head, teeth grinding together. “I’m going to cuff Finn the next time I see him. Jesus Christ.”

“Arthur’s right about him needing educating. The kid can’t keep his mouth shut to save his life.” As she spoke, she rolled her right shoulder back and forth, trying to ease the twinge that had settled in it. Tommy huffed. 

“Yeah. I’ll put him in charge of running the football betting at the shop. Give him something productive to do.”

“Have Isiah keep an eye on him. They’re friends, and he’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything too stupid.”

Tommy nodded. They caught the train just before it left the station, slipping into an empty compartment and closing the door, drawing down the blind that covered the window on the door, hiding them from any curious eyes that may have tried to peek in from the narrow hallway.

“May called earlier. She said that she was at a party that a couple other MPs were attending recently. One of them was asking about you,” Lucy settled into her seat, the train whistling shrilly before starting to move, steadily picking up speed as it pulled out from the station. 

“Oh?”

“Oswald Mosley. He’s the MP for Smethwick. Also the Minister of the Duchy of Lancaster,” she fiddled with her rings, twisting them anxiously around her fingers. “May had…a lot of bad things to say about him.” Another throb of pain rocketed from the bottom of her shoulder blades up to the base of her neck, and she had to fight back a flinch. Fucking Luca. Dead and long gone, and yet still haunting her through the aches and pains that the torture he had put through had left. 

Just like Matthew, her former fiancé and the man who instigated the gang rape that left her nearly dead and fleeing to Small Heath to escape marrying him. He too lingered with her still–despite his deceased status–through the scars he and his friends had left all over her body.

I’m part of you forever, now, his and Luca’s voices, mingled into one, whispered inside her head where they now lived. 

“Lucy?” Tommy’s voice pulled her from her thoughts, his hand lightly touching her arm. She jumped a little, jerking back to life, eyes wide when they met his. “You alright?”

“Y-yeah. Sorry. Just thinking. What did you say?”

His eyes narrowed a fraction, and she was pretty sure that he sensed the slight waver in her voice that she attempted to cover up. But he must have decided not to comment on it if he did. 

“What does Mosley want with me?” He instead repeated patiently. 

“He didn’t exactly say. But May said that he was asking an awful lot about your moral standings on things. She thought that he might’ve been trying to feel out if you would be amiable to joining the new party he’s rumored to be building.”

“The fascists, you mean?”

“Yeah.” They had been sprouting up everywhere it seemed, lately. Germany. Italy. Even in England. It was spooky. “I could do some more research into him, if you think that it would be worth it.”

Tommy considered for a moment, blue eyes glancing out the window to observe the countryside they were whizzing by. “Yes, you do that. He’s gathering information about me, it would only be fair to return the favor.”

She nodded, a hand unconsciously going up to grasp at her still aching shoulder, trying to rub away some of the pain. But she never could seem to get the right angle…

“Are your shoulders bothering you?”

She looked up to find Tommy still watching her, observant eyes zoned in on where her fingers were subtly kneading. With a sigh, she dropped her hand, rolling the aching bone and muscle back and forth with a wince. There was no use trying to lie to him. 

“A little.” 

His head cocked, pushing up with his hands off the seat he was slumped in across from her to instead settle in the space next to her. “Here.”

“Tommy…!” she immediately started to protest, eyes going panickedly to the blinds covering the window of the door leading into their compartment. 

“Don’t worry. No one will see with the blinds closed. And we’re just passing country right now,” he nodded towards the window, which sure enough was only displaying green fields and farmland. “Let me help. If you don’t do anything for them, they’ll be killing you by this evening.”

Spoken from true experience. He’d seen her when the pain got really bad, leaving her unable to sleep or do anything other than cry and writhe, as if trying to get away from the pains wracking through nearly her entire upper back. 

Slumping in defeat, she nodded, turning to angle herself with her back facing him. His large hands found her shoulders, so big they nearly swallowed the entire expanse of each one in his palms–or maybe she was just that tiny. A small sigh of relief left her lips when he began rubbing gentle but firm circles into her skin, just like how the doctor had instructed him to when explaining ways to help reduce her pain. Slowly, he started to urge the tensed up muscles to relax enough to give her some relief. 

“Did you not do your stretches yesterday?” he asked. Lucy shook her head. 

“Forgot.”

She was supposed to do them everyday, to avoid things like this happening so frequently. But in all the chaos yesterday, they’d completely slipped her mind. And sleeping on the hard earth with nothing but Tommy to use as a pillow probably hadn’t helped things.  

“Hm. Sorry; I should’ve reminded you.”

“Not your fault.”

He pressed his fingers a little harder into her skin. “How’s that feeling?”

“Better.”

He hummed, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Just try to relax.”

“Pot meet kettle.”

“You want me to stop?”

“...No.”

He chuckled, the first real laugh she’d heard from him since before yesterday, and rested his cheek against her hair while his hands continued to work. Lucy allowed herself to melt a little under his touch, for a moment not worrying about them getting caught together, or about Lizzie, or Michael, or the company. She was able to just rest. Even if only for a moment. All the while Tommy gently rubbed the pain from her body.

∗ ∗ ∗  

She so did love to watch Tommy speak in the house. 

He stood there, amidst the smoke emitting from cigarettes and pipes, glasses perched on his nose, notes held in his hand, his voice ringing out, deep and rumbling. Pretty, eloquent words. He had them all in the palm of his hand and he knew it, the men seated in the benches around him, and those in the observation area with her all clinging to his every word. And when he was finished, those on his side of the room cheered and rapped their hands approvingly against the wood of their benches, the entire room thundering with the sound. 

Lucy couldn’t help but think that the room looked like a theater. 

Who were they performing for? Themselves? Each other? The people in the observation booths? All of them at once? It was hard to say. 

She spotted him seated to Tommy’s right–her left. In the row below Tommy’s, the third man in from the aisle. His dark hair was slicked back, the mustache that decorated his upper lip meticulously groomed. One side of his lips pulled up at something Tommy said, his eyes gleaming. Lucy felt a shiver go down her spine. Humor may have been what was intended to cross his face, but those eyes of his were dead. No emotion to be found in them at all. They remained focused straight ahead as Tommy spoke, except for one specific, notable moment, when they flickered towards the observational benches where she, along with some secretaries, journalists, and other observers, sat to watch the men speak. Lucy swore that for a second their eyes met, before she hastily looked away from him and back to Tommy. Her skin crawled, the fine, fair hairs on the back of her arms standing up straight. Her very insides seemed to recoil, every instinct within her screaming to get up and run as far away from that man as she could possibly get. 

She kept her eyes glued firmly at Tommy for the reminder of the time spent in the house, despite originally going there specifically to observe Mosley.

She felt that she’d gotten all the information that she needed to about what kind of person he was from just that quick glance alone. 

Soon as they were done, she stood, gathering up her notes, tucking them securely in the crook of her arm and making for the exit where she would meet Tommy out in the hall. 

“How did I do?” he asked, once he found her standing at the usual spot where she always waited for him. Lucy caught herself wishing desperately that she could have pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Splendid as always, love.”

He looked away, lips twitching up slightly, clearing his throat bashfully. “Come on.”

Lucy smiled a little to herself at the reaction, falling into step beside him, heading in the direction of their office.  

“Did you get what you needed?” he asked, as they walked.

“Sort of.”

His brow raised. “Sort of?” he quoted back to her.

“I don’t like looking at him,” she explained in a lowered voice. “He makes my skin crawl.”

“Mm.” Tommy hummed in agreement. 

“Lord Suckerby’s secretary said you’re welcome to come by anytime between now and the end of the day to see him,” she told him just as they were interrupted by a voice calling his name from one of the open doors they passed.

They stopped, turned, and were met face to face with Oswald Mosley, a barbed smile sliding into place across his features as those empty eyes bored into Tommy. Lucy’s skin roiled in response to his posh, clipped voice when he spoke, introducing himself and holding out a hand for Tommy to shake. His sly smile never once ceased, eyes never leaving Tommy’s as he took his hand and shook it firmly. 

“Let me just say, you’ve come to my attention,” the words were spoken in a croon, with the smallest of head tilts. Lucy couldn’t fully decide if the intended effect was supposed to be predatory, or seductive. 

Before Tommy could reply. Mosley’s eyes had snapped, sharp and quick, like a snake striking, to fix on Lucy. She had to fight back the urge to hide behind her lover’s back. The expression on Mosley’s face turned wolfish. 

“Well, aren’t you a pretty little thing?” She felt Tommy tense beside her at Mosley’s words. “Oswald Mosley,” he extended his hand towards her. Lucy felt ill at the thought of touching him, but forced herself to reach out and take his hand. It was cold as ice and dry as a bone.

“Lucy Winters,” she introduced herself, shaking Mosley’s hand once before letting it go, pushing away the urge to wipe her palm on her trousers. “I’m Mr. Shelby’s assistant.” 

Mosley’s eyes darted between them, one eyebrow quirking upwards, a smirk settling on his lips. “Hm. Lucky you, Mr. Shelby.” 

“If you’ll excuse us, Mr. Mosley, we have to get going.”

“Yes, yes, of course. But if you aren’t too busy, I would love the opportunity to speak with you more. Perhaps over drinks?”

Tommy considered. “You can call my office,” was all he ultimately said, hastily turning on his heel and starting down the hall again. Lucy hurried after him, not wanting to be left alone with Mosley. 

“You’re really going to meet with him?” she asked, once they were far enough away to be out of ear shot. 

“Just to hear what he has to say.” He looked over at her. “Don’t worry, I’m not sympathetic to his cause. But keep your enemies closer, eh?”

“Yeah.” She looked over her shoulder, half expecting Mosley to appear spontaneously behind them. “He scares me a little, Tommy.” Her voice was a rough whisper, half ashamed at the omission. 

“Me too.”

That got her attention, and when she looked at Tommy, she noticed something almost unsteady under the guarded armor he kept carefully in place across his eyes. Fear squeezed at her throat. 

A man who was bad enough to make Tommy so frightened was something she hadn’t even thought existed.

“You head on back to the office,” he said, changing the subject with a small clearing of his throat. “I think I’ll go see Lord Suckerby now.”

“You don’t want me to come with you?” He shook his head. “I think it’ll make a stronger impression if I go see him alone.”

“You think he’ll give you any trouble?”

“Maybe. Depends on how hard he was hit by the crash.”

She frowned. She hadn’t really thought about that. Though she probably should have. “Everyone was hit by the crash.”

“Yeah.”

“If Suckerby can’t pay us…”

“He will. I’m not giving him any other choice.”

She pressed her lips together in a small smile. “I’d like first crack at him, if it comes to it.”

Tommy shot her an amused look. “Oh, is that so?”

“After seeing those photos that he wanted us to get for him, there are a couple of things I’d very much like to do to him.”

During the train ride to London she had flipped through the small package of photographs, letters, and cheques that Isiah had handed off to her while they were in Birmingham. Everything he and Aberama had collected from the man they killed in Chinatown who had been using the contents of that package to blackmail Suckerby. Her stomach had roiled at the contents of some of them, bile rising.

Lord Suckerby was one disgusting man. Maybe after he paid them, an unfortunate accident could befall him. Like falling out a window or getting run over by a bus.  

Based on the thunderous, repulsed look that had crossed Tommy’s features when she showed him the photographs, Lucy thought he may very well be open to the idea. The envelope was now stashed safely in the inner pocket of her suit jacket, snug against her side. It would remain there until Suckerby paid what he owed them for their services.

“Alright,” Tommy said, eyes still dancing with fond, quiet mirth. “He doesn’t corporate, he’s all yours.”

She beamed, only just managing to restrain herself from throwing her arms around his neck, stretching up on toes, and planting a firm kiss to his temple that would have left his fair skin stained with red smudges from her lipstick. “Thank you, Tommy,” she said instead, adding what she hoped came across as a playful, affectionate lilt to her voice. He glanced over at her, one edge of his lips nudging upwards, eyes softening. 

They came to a hallway splitting off into two separate directions. This was where they parted ways. Her, turning left to head to their office, him, heading right, towards where Lord Suckerby’s offices were located. 

“I’ll see you soon?”

He nodded. “This won’t take long.”

“I’ll phone his office when I get in and let them know you’re coming. So they’ll be expecting you.”

“Right.”

“And then you have a few more meetings this afternoon.”

“Mm.” He lowered his voice. “I thought that we’d stay at the apartment for the night, rather than go back to Arrow House.”

“That probably would be a good idea. It’d give Lizzie some time to cool down.”

“Exactly.” 

She nodded, moving to head in the direction leading to their office. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

She walked backwards a few paces, fondly watching his broad back disappear around the corner before turning and making her way the rest of the short walk back to the little corner of Parliament that they presided over. 

∗ ∗ ∗

She had not been back in the office long when Tommy returned, heavy footed steps booming against the floor and swiping his fringe from his eyes. 

“How did it go?” Lucy asked, looking up from her desk.

“By the time I left the room, he was screaming my name,” he thumbed a cigarette from his silver case. Lucy raised an eyebrow.

“Is that a euphemism?”

Tommy snorted, plucking out a second cigarette to hand to her. “He only had twenty thousand to give to us.”

“Really?” That wasn’t even half of the fifty thousand pounds they’d agreed upon. She placed her cigarette between her lips and leaned forward towards the flame of his lighter when he held it up for her. “Does that mean I get to play with him now?”

Tommy chuckled, raising the lighter to his own cigarette before closing it with a click. “Easy, girl. I gave him until Monday to get us the full amount.”  

She pouted a little, leaning back into her chair. “You’re going soft, Shelby.”  

“No,” Tommy’s eyes danced amusedly. He reached out, brushing his thumb down her cheek. It was a risky move, since anyone could walk through the door at any moment, but she didn’t pull her face away from the tender touch. “I just want my fifty thousand pounds.”

“Mm. Whatever you say, love.”

His thumb inched into dangerous territory, ghosting over her bottom lip. She aimed a playful nip at it, and he drew his hand back with a grin. 

“Cheeky mare.”

Lucy smiled at him, batting her eyelashes innocently in an ‘I’m-very-sure-I-don’t-know-what-you-mean’ kind of way. Though remnants of his smile lingered on his face and his eyes remained softened fondly, Tommy’s expression turned serious again.  

“Hey, make that research into Mosley top priority, yeah? I wanna be ready when I next see him.”

“Yes, boss.” She gave him a little two finger salute. The corner of his lips kicked up again.

“Thank you.” 

She watched him head through the double doors into his office, leaving them open behind him, a silent invitation for her to come keep him company if she wanted. Gathering up some of her papers, she rose from her chair to follow him. 

It was, after all, an invitation that she never passed up. 

∗ ∗ ∗  

It was dark by the time they started to pack up to leave for the day. Tommy had one final appointment, but Lucy figured she would get a head start on closing the office up while he spoke with the journalist from the London Times. She eyed Michael Levitt as Adam–Tommy’s other secretary at Westminster–led him into Tommy’s office, noting the nervous way that the journalist  kept fidgeting with his hat while he waited. A moment later, Adam came back out, casting an anxious look over his shoulder to where Levitt had taken a seat in front of Tommy’s desk. 

“Mr. Shelby said I was to go home,” he came over to her desk, keeping his voice lowered. She nodded.

“Then go home. I’ll take care of locking everything up.”

“Right.” 

She watched him gather up his things and head for the door, one ear focused on trying to overhear the mumbled voices of Tommy and Levitt. “See you tomorrow,” she told Adam.

“Goodnight,” he nodded. Soon as he was gone, she stood smoothly, snatching up the little journal perched on the corner of her desk and going to Tommy’s office. He had left the doors open, so she was able to slip in without so much as a sound, footsteps muffled against the rugs lining the floor. 

Levitt was visibly sweating, stuttering over his words. Lucy raised an eyebrow, going to where Tommy’s coat was hung up to his right behind his desk. She slipped the journal into the pocket, giving it a tap twice, watching out of the corner of her eye how Tommy’s gaze followed her. He gave a barely indiscernible nod in acknowledgement, and she spun on her heel and left the room, letting her eyes meet the timid Levitt’s for a second before turning her head away. 

She flitted around her and Adam’s office, putting things away and locking them up for safe keeping, even doing some tidying. The whole time, she listened closely to the words being murmured between Tommy and the journalist. At one point, not long before Levitt rushed from the room, she heard Tommy quoting directly from some of the notes she had written in the little journal during her time spent researching Levitt and his activities. 

Soon as he was gone, she locked the door behind him and went back to Tommy’s office. 

“I take it that could have gone better?” she moved to stand on his side of the desk, arms folded over her chest and back leaning against the hard wooden edge. Her head cocked as she watched him rub at his eyes. 

“He was asking about Campbell and Polly.”

“I heard. You want him to be taken care of?”

Tommy wetted his lips, considering. “Yes,” he decided. “Last thing we need is a reporter sniffing around.”

“Yeah. He doesn’t seem like the type that we could just pay off. I’ll have some of our boys handle it at his apartment in Maida Vale. Quick and clean.” 

“Have them do it with enough flourish that it’ll make other journalists nervous. To dissuade anyone else from trying anything for a while.”

“But not easily linked to us, right?”

“Right. And let’s just keep it between you and me. Last thing I need is more temper tantrums over my not sharing information.”

“Okay.”

Tommy leaned back in his chair, reaching out to smooth his hand up and down her thigh. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

His arms looped around her, and she laughed quietly when he pulled her closer, his head tipping back to stare up at her, blue eyes wide and mischievous. 

“Adam went home?”

“Yes.”

“Hm…so it’s just us, then?”

Her fingers smoothed through his dark hair, fighting back a smirk. “Yes, it’s just us.”

With a purring sound from low in the back of his throat, he took hold of her hips and pulled her closer. 

“Tommy!” She laughed as he maneuvered her into his lap, as if this was not something they had done dozens of times before. As if she had not let him fuck her on top of his big desk the very first day they spent in the new office, her face burying in his shoulder with her teeth sinking into the thick fabric of his suit jacket to try to keep herself quiet while his cock pounded into her. 

He pushed open her suit jacket, popping free the first two buttons on her shirt and dipping his head to press his lips to the newly exposed skin. Wriggling in his lap, Lucy hissed at the feeling of his cock already hardening in his trousers, the material bulging against her. 

Tangling her hands in his hair, she tipped his head back enough to kiss him, moaning softly as his hands smoothed up her thighs, urging her to rock against him and fumbling with her belt. It was late, most people working in the building would have already gone home for the evening. But they still needed to be quiet. 

“Mm, did you lock the door?” Tommy asked in a low, rough murmur that went straight to her cunt, walls fluttering around nothing. The things he could do to her with just his voice alone were downright sinful. 

“Yes.”

He made a noise of approval that turned her legs to jelly. “Good,” he lifted her from his lap for a microsecond to slip her loosened trousers and knickers down, hand burning hot where it slid up her exposed thigh. “Always such a good girl for me.”

“A-ah…” her head lolled back, eyes rolling both at the praise and the first brush of his thick fingers across her entrance, circling lazily around her clit. 

“Gotta keep quiet, now,” he continued to mumble in her ear, breath warm where it fanned against her cheek. “Can you do that for me?”

She nodded vigorously. That was all she wanted; to be good for him. To make him happy. 

Turning his head, Tommy pressed a kiss to her temple and gingerly slipped one finger into her while his thumb occupied itself with rolling over her clit. He kept his movements careful and slow until he got her more warmed up, waiting until slickness coated his hand generously before adding a second finger and increasing the pace of his pumps. 

“There you go,” he hummed when he felt her start to flutter around him. “There you go, that’s a good girl…”

“Tom…” she whimpered, biting her lip to try to keep herself quiet, not wanting to disappoint him by letting any sounds slip out to be heard beyond this room.

“I know,” he soothed. “That’s my girl. Bite down on my shoulder if you need to.”

She did just that, nosing the material of his clothing aside to taste his bare skin between her lips. Tommy groaned, low and quiet but impossibly deep, at the first sting of her teeth against him. Her walls tightened, moments away from bursting. His fingers curled within her, pressing right into the spot that made her see stars.  

“Let go,” he ordered in a sweet whisper aimed directly into her ear, and she bit down hard to try to hinder what would have been an incredibly loud moan as her orgasm wrecked through her like a firecracker, bright lights exploding behind her eyes, entire body shuddering with it, pressing close to him instinctively.  

Tommy guided her through it, slowly coaxing her down from her high until she slumped against him.

“Good. Very good, sweetheart.”

She made a happy little noise at the praise, snuggling closer to his neck, nuzzling at the bitemark she’d left on him. Tommy stroked the back of her head, kissing her hair. Sneakily, she snaked a hand down between their bodies to palm the bulge in his trousers, and it was his turn to try to stifle his noises of pleasure, teeth locking down tight around the groan rising from his throat. 

Arms wrapping around her, he lifted her seemingly effortlessly off of his lap, setting her down on the edge of his desk while he stood, hands dropping down to fumble with his trousers. Lucy felt her mouth water at the sight of his long, impossibly thick erection bobbing against his stomach after being released from its confines. Tommy gave himself a few good, languid strokes, jaw dropping open as his eyelashes fluttered, face inches from hers. Lucy spread her legs wider, encouraging him in between them. Her hands grabbed at handfuls of his suit jacket while he lined himself up, sliding in with one deep thrust. 

“Oh,” Tommy rested his cheek against hers, hands flexing where they landed on her hip and thigh. 

“Quiet, remember?” she teased slightly, trailing her fingertips through his hair. He shivered, letting out a breathless chuckle followed by a kiss to her cheek. Burying his face in her neck, hands bracing on her body, he started to move. She could tell that he was trying to start out slow and give her time to adjust to his considerable size, but all it took was her purposefully squeezing around his cock and wrapping her legs around his waist, and his efforts went up in smoke. 

He bucked into her like a man possessed, low grunts muffled against her throat, a few trinkets rattling on the desk from the force of his thrusts. Lucy tucked her face back in against his shoulder, biting down hard on her bottom lip to try to contain her whimpers and moans as his swollen tip rubbed right up against her g-spot with each roll of his hips. 

“Shit. Squeezing me so tight, love,” Tommy rasped out, hand slipping between their bodies to rub at her clit. “Give me another one, yeah? I know you can, sweetheart.”

“Mm…” Her back arched, pressing her clothed breasts into his chest. Her legs tightened around him, and her jaw clenched with the effort it was taking for her not to let the volume of her noises get too high. His cock twitched and throbbed inside her, in the way that she knew meant his orgasm was imminent. The pleasure built like steam rising in a kettle, tension mounting until she felt moments away from bursting. Her walls spasmed uncontrollably around him, as if wanting to keep him locked in place within her for all eternity. Tommy hitched her thigh up a little higher on his hip, allowing his cock to get just that much deeper into her, and applied more pressure to her clit with his thumb. 

She came at the same moment that she managed to grab his face and bring his mouth crashing down onto hers, each of them swallowing what would have been massive moans as they both came fantastically. Her walls clamped down around him, insides fluttering with the force with which she came. Tommy’s chest vibrated under her palms with his growl as he finished, grinding his tip in as deep as he could go while spurting jets of seed into her. 

Lucy released a blissful sigh, closing her eyes and riding out the waves of her climax while basking in the feeling of him spilling his load into her. 

Tommy slumped forwards against her, face nestling in the crook of her shoulder, lips pressing to her neck delicately whilst he relaxed. His arms wound around her in a warm embrace, a quiet purr leaving his chest when she stroked the back of his head. 

“We should go,” Lucy finally broke the silence that had stretched on between them. Tommy nodded, shifting to carefully pull out of her, tucking himself back into his trousers and straightening out his clothes. He plucked a handkerchief from his pocket for her to use to clean the mix of their releases from her thighs, then let her hold onto his shoulders when she hopped off the edge of the desk and regained her balance. 

“Have you got everything locked up?” he asked as she pulled her slacks back up.

“Yeah, just gotta grab a few things from my desk to take with us.”

“Good. I wanna get out of here.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Tommy Shelby eager to leave work? Is there a special occasion I’m not aware of?”

He rolled his eyes, giving her hip a light pinch. “No occasion.” He swiped a few locks of hair off of her forehead and cradled the back of her neck, a smile tugging on the edges of his lips while his eyes looked her up and down. There was something heated in them that made her thighs squeeze together. “Except that I’m not even close to done with you yet.”

∗ ∗ ∗ 

“You know, Frances, if there were to be a snap election in this house today, I wouldn’t win it. Even if I were running against the devil himself,” Tommy remarked to their housekeeper once they’d gotten home. Frances shot him a sympathetic look. 

“I’d still vote for you,” Lucy offered. Tommy gave her a peck on the cheek.

“Thanks, love.”

He went off to go talk to Charlie where he was sulking in the stables while Lucy ventured upstairs, wandering through the winding hallways until she heard the hum of Lizzie and Ruby’s voices. Coming to a halt in the doorway of Ruby’s room, she watched them where they were seated together in the rocking chair by the window, Ruby in Lizzie’s lap, head resting on her mother’s chest while Lizzie read to her from a book. 

“Hi, Lucy!” Ruby said when she spotted her. Lucy smiled.

“Hey, kiddo.”

“Is Daddy with you?”

“He’s down at the stables.”

She let out an excited squeal, jumping off Lizzie’s lap and racing for the door.

“Ruby, what have I told you about running in the house!?” Lizzie shouted after her, but the little girl was already long gone. Lizzie rolled her eyes fondly, shaking her head and closing the book. As Lucy watched her stand to put it away on a shelf, she noticed Ruby’s suitcase laid out on the bed, half filled with clothes. 

“Going somewhere?”

Lizzie sighed, glancing over at the suitcase, then back at Lucy. “I’m taking Ruby to Arthur’s.”

Lucy stared at her. “Why?”

Lizzie’s lips pulled back from her teeth. “Because, I realized this afternoon that I’d rather swallow horse shit than sit down and eat dinner with you and him.” She began to zip up Ruby’s luggage. “I need to get away. From both of you. At least for a while.”

“You could have phoned and we would’ve stayed at the apartment in London like we did last night if you really don’t want us here this weekend.”

“I don’t know if it’s going to be for just one weekend.”

Lucy straightened. “What do you mean?”

Lizzie didn't reply. 

“You cannot be serious. Now, Lizzie? You want to toy around with the idea of splitting up with your husband now? Of all fucking times?”

“He made me look like an idiot at the family meeting!” Lizzie burst out, head lifting and tears in her eyes. “Everyone else knew about the bloody hit in Chinatown except for me! I am his wife! I should be informed of these things first! Especially before you!” The way that she spat out that last word, so full of hate and disgust, made Lucy flinch.  

“For fuck’s sake, Lizzie! There’s a lot of shit here that you are more than justified in being unhappy about, but this? Really? This is where you draw the line?” A humorless laugh left her lips. “I hate to break it to you, but him not telling you things is a normal occurrence. Ada didn’t know about what was happening in Chinatown either.” 

Lizzie looked away, irritably picking up a stuffed animal off of Ruby’s bed. Lucy took a deep breath, and when she spoke again her voice was much calmer. 

“This is not worth throwing a bloody temper tantrum over, Lizzie.”

“I’m tired of being disrespected,” she lifted her head. “I’m his wife, and he needs to start treating him as such.”

Lucy groaned, raising her palms to her face, fighting back the urge to scream into them. “Just once, could you knock it off with the attitude?”

“Easy for you to say, when you always get everything that you want–”

“Oh, do I, now?” Lucy rounded on her. “You think that this,” she gestured vaguely, “is what I want? To have to share him with a woman who openly hates me?”

“I don’t hate you–”

But Lucy talked right over her. “To have to live with the constant worry that you might push me out or he might change his mind and throw me out on the street? That it could happen like that,” she snapped her fingers. “And I could lose everything? Do you think that I wanted to live with that dangling over my head at all hours of the day, Lizzie?” She met the taller woman’s stormy eyes levelly. “We’re all getting a shit deal out of this, so stop feeling so fucking sorry for yourself, and make the best of it,” she moved to the door. 

“You are so fucking selfish, you know that!?” Lizzie shrieked after her, finally fully exploding. “You sap up all his love for yourself and leave nothing for the rest of us! You don’t care that him spending time with you means he’s not here with his family! Those children,” she pointed towards the window that looked out to the stables, “deserve a father who prioritizes them over running after his fucking mistress.”

“Don’t you dare try to use the kids–”

“Well, somebody in this household has to advocate for them!”

“Don’t act like you aren’t just using them as a way to try to get what you want.”

Lizzie’s lips slammed into a thin line. “I’m going. And I’m taking Ruby with me.”

“But not Charlie?” Lucy challenged. 

“If I thought that I could take him without Tommy tearing me apart over it, I would,” Lizzie’s voice had suddenly grown very quiet. “I’d take the two of them far away from you both and never look back.”

Lucy shook her head, exhausted. “He’s not that bad, Lizzie. Compared to what he could be? He’s not that bad at all. He doesn’t hit you. He loves those kids…” she could see from the expression of stone on Lizzie’s face that none of her words would be able to reach her, and yet she tried anyway. “He’s got so much to deal with right now. Please don’t make it worse for him.”

Lizzie continued to just stare at her with a look of both extreme sorrow and loathing, and then she picked up Ruby’s suitcase and shouldered past her without another word.

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[sassyfrassboss]

Okay so for years there have been rumors that Harry truly believed he would co-reign when William became King.

There was also the rumor that when William was to inherit the Duchy of Cornwall, Harry truly intended that William would give him half of the profits.

I think there was even a rumor that when William became King, the Duchy of Cornwall was going to Harry since William would have the Duchy of Lancaster.

Now I always thought these were out of the scope because no one can be that idiotic and clueless about their own family’s history and traditions.

But then Harry did an interview for his book and he was talking about how William and Catherine got precedence and how apparently there was this royal hierarchy and it was made clear that Meghan and himself would never be at the top of said hierarchy.

At the time I thought “yeah no way he never clued in to the fact he wasn’t the most important person in the room.”

Now I’m convinced that Harry was never clued in. In fact, Harry was so clueless that he is now under the assumption that “Sussex” is a duchy and also a surname.

I’m waiting for the news that he is upset his family refuses to give him his coffers from his lowly serfs who till his fields.

[eaglesnick]

“The country is governed for the richest, for the corporations, the bankers, the land speculators, and for the exploiters of labor.” - Helen Keller

On the BBC Today programme yesterday we heard the official Labour Government policy regarding taxation and the rich.

Pat McFadden, Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster, the second highest government office in the land after that of Prime Minister, was asked this question,

"What do you say (to the accusation) the poorest are being pitted against the poorest whilst the wealthy go relatively untouched.” 

His reply said it all:

“We have a progressive tax system.  The top 1% pay about a third of tax. I don’t think, you can in the end, tax and borrow...we are reforming the State"

Lets look at the facts

The top 1% of UK earners pays 29% of all income tax not 33.3% as McFadden said.

According to The Money University, (December 2023) to be in the top 1% of UK earners you must earn more than £180,000 per annum. This 1% takes home just under 14% of the countries total income.

On the face of it, the top 1% or earners seem to be paying a greater proportion of the tax bill relative to their total earnings.  They earn 14% of the countries total income but pay 29% of the total income tax bill.

However, things are not what they seem and Pat McFadden knows this.

First, although the lowest 10% of UK earners contribute a relatively small proportion of the total tax bill, as their incomes are significantly lower, they face a higher burden from indirect taxes like VAT and Council Tax which take up a larger percentage of their income compared to higher earners.

Second, income for the wealthy comes not only from work but from unearned income in the form of dividends and shares, which are taxed at a LOWER rate than income from employment. The Office for National Statistics found that the lowest 10% of UK earners pay an average 42% of their income in the form of income tax, national insurance, VAT and council tax. By contrast, the richest 10% only pay 33% of their total income in tax.

Third, the wealthiest people in Britain are asset rich. They invest in land, property, art, jewellery and other assets that escape taxation even though these assets may gain in value. There is no wealth tax in the UK.

Fourth, we also have to remember it  is the amount of income you are left with after paying taxes that is really important. Using the above figures, if you have an income of  £180,000 you pay 33% in tax, leaving you £120,600. If you are within the lowest 10% of UK earners you have an income of £19,992 per year, of which 42% will go in taxes, leaving you with £11,595.

It is the lowest 10% of earners who are most likely to be on some kind of benefit, the benefits Starmer's Labour government are about to cut. In short, the poor are to be punished for being poor.

Although not a religious person I am reminded of the parable of the "Widow's Mite". It tells of a poor widow who donates two small coins—her entire livelihood—to the Temple treasury. Jesus praises her act, highlighting that she gave more than the wealthy donors, as she offered all she had, while others, who had paid more, still had wealth in abundance after donating to the Temple.

Among other ethical and moral teachings, this parable can be interpreted as a critique of societal systems that leave vulnerable individuals, like widows, in extreme poverty while the rich go on living in luxury.  It highlights the contrast between the rich donating comfortably and the poor sacrificing everything.

Keir Starmer and Pat McFadden please take note.

[wonder-worker]

was edward IV considering waging war with France when he died?

Hi! From what I understand*: no, he probably wasn't considering it.

The Treaty of Arras, resulting in the deprivation of his annual pension from France, appears to have provoked a visceral reaction in him: contemporaries report both anger and melancholy. In February, Parliament granted him a subsidy 'for the hasty and necessary defence' of the realm', money was demanded from the clergy, and he took measures to strengthen the fortresses in the Calais Pale. He also tried to stir Brittany against France by promising to send them 4,000 archers for three months - though it must be said that there was no mention from Edward regarding a proposed English invasion of France during that time. He was clearly angered, but it's difficult to know if he was genuinely considering waging full-scale war, or if it was an impulsive overreaction or sudden need for defense (perhaps both), or merely a tried-and-tested ploy to get money, which he had a track record of doing in the 1460s and which would have been needed now that his French pension was cut off.

(Fun fact: this entire drama resulted in the creation of 'The Promise of Matrimony' in 1483, the first known piece of printed political propaganda in English history.)

In any case, whatever his original intentions, Edward IV evidently seems to have decided to prioritize his continued peace with France by the end of his life. As Charles Ross says:

"If an immediate attack upon France was seriously contemplated for a time, the mood did not last long. By March (1483)**, when relations at sea between France and England had deteriorated badly, there are clear signs that Edward had changed course and was making every effort to preserve the truce with France."

There was a mission from the Garter King of Arms to France in February, likely connected to this. More strikingly, by the time Edward fell sick, he was actively making efforts to put an end to seizures and reprisals against French shipping - which, if we judge how French actions intensified after his death, seem to have been fairly successful.

Long story short, if Edward IV actually considered waging war against France in the beginning of 1483, he seems to have soon changed his mind and decided to prioritize his truce with them.*** Unfortunately, we'll never know how it would have gone down had he lived for a few years longer.

Because Edward IV died so soon after, and the situation remained unresolved, the Treaty of Arras is often magnified by historians as a sort of definite endgame of his foreign policy. Imo, this is a rather dramatic and retrospective reading of the situation. His foreign policy had worked reasonably well (or at least, to his satisfaction) up till that point. Arras certainly was a major setback and deeply aggrieved him - but the fact remains that had he lived longer, this is unlikely to be anything other than a temporary setback for both him and England**** (a trend that was fairly common across the reigns of many other medieval rulers). In this case, we already know for a fact that the conflict between France and Burgundy had by no means died down after Arras: it was, in fact, just as bad. Maximilian continued to desperately appeal to Edward IV for aid mere weeks after signing the Treaty (which Edward would have probably given had he not died soon after) and would later appeal to Richard III as well. So it's not like Edward or England lost their leverage. More importantly, Louis XI himself would die just a few months after Edward, leading to a major change in the structure of European politics, and we don't know how this situation would have unfolded had Edward still been alive at the time. Nor do we know how it would have unfolded had England's domestic situation remained stable for his successor after his death (aka: had his brother not decided to usurp the throne from his preteen nephew and kickstart yet another civil war within his own dynasty). He died at an impasse, and I think that more than anything should be emphasized - but by no accounts should it be taken to mean that he left his heir in a singularly complicated foreign situation. He didn't - at least, not compared to the vast majority of his predecessors - and at any event, like I mentioned, the situation in wider Europe was also rapidly changing at the time. Nor was England "isolated": among others, they did have a treaty with Brittany, and more importantly, there were strides towards a greater alliance with unified Spain: negotiations for a betrothal of his daughter Katherine to Isabella and Ferdinand's heir had been ratified in 1482***** and were ongoing (or already completed, I'm not sure) when he died, leaving the door wide open for a closer alliance that would be pursued by future English rulers, particularly since we know Spain was on the lookout for allies against France during that time as well and did view England as a potential ally.

*Correct me if I'm wrong **Ross says "1482" in his biography, but that's probably a typo considering he was talking about events after the Treaty of Arras. ***It's often said that Richard III inherited a "naval war" with France from his brother, but as we can see, he didn't. He inherited naval tensions (the word choice is important) which Edward IV was already working on putting an end to. The escalation of these tensions was very much Richard's own decision. ****England also seems to have been included in the Treaty of Arras (at Louis XI's "pleasure" lol), though I don't know in what capacity, it was likely window-dressing, so don't quote me on this. It may have been in a similar capacity Charles the Bold was technically "included" in the Treaty of Picquigny. *****I think it was Spain who proposed the betrothal, though I'm not sure so don't quote me on that.

[the-empress-7]

Duchy of Lancaster, Established 1265

Duchy of Cornwall, Established 1337

Duchy of Sussex...does NOT exist

[celticcrossanon]

If not, then why does Charles want Andrew out of Royal Lodge but not Edward out of Bagshot Park?

Some background info…

Royal Lodge has more of a family history than Bagshot Park does. The Royal Lodge was where Her Late Majesty grew up and was The Queen Mother’s Windsor residence, before she passed away (at which point Andrew leased the home). Charles probably has fond memories of the home and wants to “keep it in the family”, so to speak — his own family (aka Harry or William and their families). Bagshot Park, meanwhile, was a residence used by the Duke of Connaught and Strathearn (Victoria’s son) and then leased to the Army until 1996 when Edward and Sophie took over tenancy; it doesn’t have the same prestige, if you will, of the Royal Lodge to the family.

It’s been said that the reports of how big Bagshot Park is and its 120 rooms is greatly overestimated from the Army days. To me that suggests that most of the 120 rooms are very small and perhaps not quite practical for a family. At any rate, Edward and Sophie did significant renovations to Bagshot Park that made the rooms bigger, which also reduced the number of rooms on the property.

Also, Royal Lodge is said to be falling apart and there’s an enormous repair bill coming to fix everything. Charles could be focusing on Royal Lodge because of the enormous repair costs, which Andrew was supposed to be on top of as part of his lease and seems to not be addressing.

And finally, let’s not forget that Andrew is no longer a working member of the royal family, nor even a senior royal. Edward and Sophie are. It doesn’t make sense for Andrew to keep such a large property under peppercorn rent, and he likely can’t afford the market rate of rent (and upkeep expenses to maintain the lease) for a place like Royal Lodge. Forcing Andrew to downsize from the Royal Lodge is also a practical and economical reason in terms of lessening the burden on the Duchy of Lancaster.

Hi Nonny,

Thank you for all this extra information. 🩷 It does make things clearer and sets the 'evict Prince Andrew' narrative in context.

[royal-confessions]

“I really hope that we see The King visit the Duchy of Lancaster and wear the late Queen’s Duchy of Lancaster brooch. Its design could still suit a man and The King’s is the best wearer of male jewelry in the BRF. He’d pull it off in style!” - Submitted by Anonymous