December 29th, 1852
America walked slowly through the cobbled streets of Boston, pondering in a rare moment of thoughtful silence what she had seen earlier that day.
She had been waiting by the docks for England to arrive – it irked her so much to land in this particular city, especially whenever Amelia commented that the fog was as thick as steam from a tea cup – when she had seen the police arrest a young woman -
A young woman wearing pants.
The very idea was scandalous – women wearing pants? And yet… Amelia could not help but notice the lightness with which she had walked; Amelia's own heavy winter skirts easily weighed at least 20 pounds or so, and some of the more fashionable women's attire probably weighed twice that. To be so free…
Amelia shook her head; she must try to put the strange woman from her mind. America passed many book shops and smiths before coming at last to her and her brother's townhouse; a sturdy brick building that come right up to the cobblestone street, with two well-polished lanterns hanging above the doorway.
She hung up her coat and shawl and drifted towards the staircase. She had meant to go to her room - perhaps she should look at her stereoscope collection again – but before she knew it, she was standing in Alfred's room, picking through his wardrobe to find a pair of pants she liked. Only when she had found one that satisfied her did she go to her own room as she had originally intended. There she pulled out one of her favorite blouses and quickly exchanged her dress for her new outfit. Then she looked down at herself; not bad. She needed a belt, but all in all she looked half decent. She got the distinct impression her ensemble was missing something else, however…
Frustrated, she flopped onto the bed to stare at the canopy and think. After a moment it came to her;
"A coat! That's what I need!" She laughed and jumped off the bed. America ran out of the room, nearly collided with the wall because of her stockings and too-long pant legs, and continued laughing as she slid down the banister. There was a medium sized wardrobe with a mirror in the parlor, which they used for hanging coats and shawls; within it Amelia found the spare formal coat her brother Alfred used for meeting diplomats in, and she pulled it on. Finally, she looked at herself in the mirror.
She looked downright dashing, if she did say so herself. Amelia admired herself from every angle in the mirror, clicking her heels and saluting before laughing some more. She was so absorbed in her own reflection that she didn't hear the knocking or the sound of the door opening afterwards.
"Amelia Felicity Jones, is there a reason you did not wait for Madeline and I at the docks such as you promised me in your letter? And for goodness' sake, would it really be so much trouble to answer your own – bloody hell," Amelia F. Jones turned to see her former older sister, the British Empire, in the arms of her twin sister, the colony of Canada, the latter of which had caught the former after she fainted.
"Could you direct me to your fainting couch, please?" Canada puffed, trying in vain to straighten her colonizer and failing miserably because of both women's voluminous skirts. *
"I don't have a fainting couch," Amelia said wryly, "Because I don't faint." At this, Canada looked like she was about to go into one of the passive-aggressive rants she'd be famous for if she wasn't so quiet, so Amelia decided to quickly step in and sling the unconscious Brit over her shoulder. She then proceeded to dump her former charge unceremoniously on a regular couch.
Canada sighed - Britain would say her sister was too rebellious and unbecoming, and it was times like this that made Madeline wonder if perhaps the Empire was right…
"Hey, Maddie, do you want to try a pair of pants on too?" Amelia asked enthusiastically.
Forget her previous thought, Britain was right; there was not a becoming bone in Amelia's body.
Seigneur, ayez pitié.**
)o(
Canada sighed. Amelia hadn't been able to convince her to partake in gallivanting in male clothing, but she had been able to convince her to accompany her to an opera at the Howard Athenaeum. Amelia straightened her top hat over her powdered wig – something that had gone largely out of fashion half a century ago, and which was now acquiring more than a few strange looks – and strode jauntily across Scollay Square towards 'Old Howard' as she like to call it, despite the fact that it was scarcely six years old.
Madeline could not quite decide whether she should be grateful for this opportunity – it was never a good idea to go anywhere as an unattended woman, or even as two women, without a male escort, and it would be nice to go to the Opera without Britain's infinitely superior opinions. On the other hand, some of the joy wad lost trying to hide her distress over Amelia's vulnerability; she had to hide her worry, however, for it would only draw more attention to her sister.
It would not do for someone to identify the oddly dressed man for what 'he' really was, a scandalously dressed woman.
)o(
Alice Kirkland, lady, and co-personification of the British Empire, woke to a dark, empty, and unfamiliar parlor. Fumbling around inelegantly in the dark, and saying several words she had learned from her counterpart that would shock the ladies at court, she finally managed to find a matchbox. Striking one, she lit a candle – she still wasn't sure what to make of those new-fangled kerosene lamps – and held it up to examine her surroundings. Only through many years of tuition with fine governesses and learning to uphold her duties in the British court did she refrain from further obscenities - for a little while, at least. She was in America's parlor, why on earth had she been sleeping in America's parlor? And then she remembered what that blasted girl had been doing, and she lost hold of her tongue again;
"That bloomin' Glock! What the devil did she think she was doin', prancing about in bloody kecks?! I'll slate her if she presents herself again in such dunnage, and I'll use a rasher-wagon to get the job done proper! Bloody Hell, I've seen Dollymops who'd fit better in a toffken…"
Lady Kirkland sat down on the couch again. "Bloody hell, where did I go wrong with the poor twist?"***
)o(
Arthur Kirkland, gentleman, and male co-personification of the British Empire, was leaving Scollay Square in Boston, Massachusetts after a long day of having to deal with his former colony America and financial matters at the same time. Needless to say, his patience was wearing thin; while America was curt with him personally after the War of 1812, he was still his painfully cheery and obnoxious self with other people, and Arthur wasn't quite sure whether he should chastise the young nation he had helped raise, or just let him make a fool of himself. Certainly, letting Alfred make a fool of himself required less energy on his part. They were just crossing the square in front of the Howard Athenaeum, when Arthur thought he recognized someone entering the theater.
"Good heavens, is that Ca- I mean, Madeline? Who is she with?!" Arthur was so flustered that he forgot he wasn't on good speaking terms with the person he was currently addressing.
Alfred peered above the crowd to see who he was talking about; "Hey, I think you might be right – HI MADDIE!" America waved enthusiastically. The British Empire resisted the urge to smack America, as to do so would be undignified and ungentlemanly.
Canada froze, and stiffly turned around to face her 'mother country.' The man on her elbow did likewise, turning curiously to see what she was looking at. They met in front of the entrance to the Athenaeum.
Arthur spoke first. "Hello Miss Williams, Hello Mr….?"
"Jones. Alfred Jones, I suppose."
"You suppose?" Arthur asked.
America crossed his arms. "No way, come up with your own first name," He said, raising a brow challengingly.
"I refuse to be Archibald… How about Andrew? Andrew F. Jones, pleasure to make your acquaintance."
Alfred sniggered, and Arthur frowned. Whoever this man was, he did not have Arthur's approval to court Madeline. There was something off about his voice, which seemed almost mocking and was ridiculously deep, and this whole name business did not bode well with him.
"Pardon my bluntness, but is there a reason you seem to be only now naming yourself?"
The strange man smiled. "Well you see, normally I would go by a different name, but it does not fit well tonight."
"Oh? And pray tell why that is so?"
"My name is Amelia, Mr. Kirkland."
"What? I never told you my – BLOODY HELL IT'S YOU!"
And for the second time that evening, a personification of the British Empire fainted in Boston, Massachusetts.
A/N: Where was male Canada? He was trailing forgotten behind Artie, that git. Just kidding! This is actually semi-based on a true event; On December 29th of 1852, 'Emma Snodgrass, referred to by East Coast newspapers as "the girl who has recently been visiting parts of New England in pants" was "again" arrested in Boston on a charge of vagrancy. Since Emma was regularly employed as a clerk, and paid her bills, the vagrancy charge didn't hold. She was released after the judge had given her some "wholesome advice about her eccentricities," to which she "responded with becoming grace and promised reformation." The next day, however, Emma was back on the street in her "male attire."'
* Yes, there was actually such a thing as a fainting couch. You can read about several theories for why they were needed on Wikipedia, or you can read Caroline B. Cooney's Time TravelersQuartet, which is where I first heard of such absurdities :)
**French for 'Lord, have mercy.' Or at least, that's what I hope it means… non parlez-vous Francais?
***"That bloomin' half-wit! What the devil did she think she was doin', prancing about in bloody trousers?! I'll beat her if she presents herself again in such clothes, and I'll use a frying pan to get the job done proper! Bloody Hell, I've seen amateur prostitutes who'd fit better in a well-to-do household." twist = (twist and twirl) = girl
This was my first ever Hetalia fic, and I hope y'all liked it :) Reviews are, like, totally fabulous, and they'll put you on Prussia's awesome list.
Thanksforreading!
Juniper