Let’s face it. Britain is Harry’s Jerusalem: the place of his birthright, his wounds and his unfinished business. Like Jerusalem, the ancient city shaped by Kings David and Solomon, Britain is a stage upon which the old dramas of monarchy, inheritance and belonging continue to unfold. For Meghan, Britain is her crucible: the place where she became royal, lost her illusions and discovered the cost of refusing to disappear.
Since returning to Britain more than a fortnight ago, the Duke and Duchess of Sussex have maintained a dignified silence. The Duchess’s only public utterance has been an Instagram post honouring her friend Gloria Steinem. Harry, meanwhile, has reportedly announced his intention to go skydiving this month in support of a military charity, according to People and HELLO! magazines.
That silence is unlikely to last forever, though. The couple may well be seen during the coming week, perhaps on a school run or leaving one of their familiar haunts, and there’s hardly a question that the cameras will be waiting.
If Meghan is photographed, attention will inevitably turn to what she is wearing: a carefully chosen coat, polished accessories and the kind of understated look that can generate headlines without a single word being spoken. For now, however, the Sussexes appear to be keeping their movements private, leaving the public to wonder whether their next appearance will be planned, accidental—or captured by paparazzi at precisely the moment they least expect it.
I find myself wondering, will they turn up in Sussex to reconnect with the county whose name they carry? Might there be a discreet visit to a local charity, a meeting with community leaders or an appearance that reminds the public that the titles Duke and Duchess of Sussex are attached not merely to a royal quarrel, but to a real place and its people? Such a visit would be symbolically potent. It would allow Harry and Meghan to step beyond the palace drama and acknowledge a part of Britain that belongs to their story—without seeking permission from the institution they left behind. But in a kingdom still preoccupied with who may enter its sacred spaces, even that simple act would be interpreted as a challenge.
Speaking, as I was earlier, of the biblical city of Jerusalem: it has always been more than a place, hasn’t it? To this day, it is a symbol of inheritance, power and the struggle to determine who belongs within the sacred walls. David established the kingdom, Solomon adorned it, and the generations that followed fought over its meaning.
Britain’s modern monarchy inspires much the same possessiveness. Its most zealous defenders do not merely criticise Meghan; they speak as though she must be expelled for the kingdom to survive. Tom Bower, now promoting another attempted takedown of the Duchess, has publicly declared that “the monarchy in fact depends on actually obliterating the Sussexes from our state of life.”
This is no longer dispassionate royal commentary. It is an openly stated campaign of destruction—Bower has actually used the words “obliterating” and “destruction” himself—and proof that, years after Meghan left royal duty, her very existence beyond the palace walls continues to unsettle those who once believed they had the power to define her.
Now that Harry and Meghan have made their quietly glamorous return to the United Kingdom together as a family unit, it almost puts into context that tee shirt she wore just a few weeks ago in Montecito which said “It’s giving MRS”. In retrospect, it reads almost like a coded message. Meghan Markle is no Queen of Sheba. She does not leave the kingdom alone.
Yes, to my way of thinking, if Meghan has an ancient counterpart in this story, the Queen of Sheba comes closest. The Queen of Sheba was a foreign woman who arrived in Jerusalem with her own identity, intelligence and splendour. She entered Solomon’s celebrated court as neither servant nor supplicant, asked difficult questions and judged the kingdom as surely as its king judged her. Her importance did not begin when she crossed Jerusalem’s threshold, and it did not end when she left.
But the resemblance ends at the city gates. The Queen of Sheba departed Jerusalem without Solomon. Meghan left with her husband, Prince Harry, Duke of Sussex, and she has returned to Britain with Harry beside her and their children at the centre of the life they have built. She is not a dazzling visitor passing through a king’s court, nor is Harry a prince she must leave behind. They arrive and depart as a family. And perhaps that is what the monarchy’s most zealous defenders still cannot forgive: the foreign woman did not simply walk away with her sovereignty intact. The king’s son chose to walk beside her.
Long live the King!
Image by ChatGPT inspired by Holland Cooper
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