Betrayal (23 page)

Elisabeth stared at the shiny trinket, her face blank. “What did you say?”

              “Think of it ever, speak of it never.  My dearest, would that I could rip my heart from my chest to give it to you, but alas, I have but this tiny silver heart to give.  Wear it close to thy heart and know thee always of my devoted love. At last, my sweet, a safe rendezvous away from prying eyes. No more stables or safe houses, here at last alone with you.” His lips nuzzled against her cheek as he pulled her robe loose dropping it to the floor.

             
She stood naked before him; the cold floor beneath her feet chilling her nipples to hardness, gooseflesh covered her skin in anticipation of his touch. His fingers traced the outline of her face and neck, then lazily down to clutch her breast. She liked standing naked before him, to see his pleasure as his manhood stretched against the fabric of his tights, his breath labored, his eyes lusty as he stared at her nakedness. Teasingly, she raised her hands to her breasts kneading the soft fleshy globes. His breath quickened as her hand slid down her belly to tease the hair at the top of her thighs. Springing forward he clasped her tight in his embrace, carrying her to her narrow bed.

             
Later in the darkness of her small attic room Elisabeth remembered he had been particularly rough in his lovemaking that last night in Hever. She winced at the memory of the painful bleeding that had followed. He had not come to her since that night, but despite the painful outcome Elisabeth had hungered for his touch. He had never been a gentle lover, but ever an attentive one, and she loved him. The memory of his touch, the taste of his lips and the thrust of his hips made sleep difficult. Yet exhaustion held sway and Elisabeth slept.

FIFTEEN

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 9
TH

             
Lydia awoke startled. The dream felt so real she expected to find the warmth of his kiss still on her cheek. She blushed at the feel of his hands pulling at her robe tearing it from her body in haste. Lazily Lydia reached for Dan seeking a repeat performance, but his side of the bed was cold. Had he gotten up earlier? She listened for the sound of his step. The townhouse was silent save for Tremayne’s impatient mewling.  Where was Dan?

             
“Oh,” she said aloud, “It’s Friday. He is attending that Emergency Medicine Meeting with George. George! Yes, it is the name of my dream lover! George Seelye, my dream lover?” Lydia laughed loudly. “Hardly, the man in my dream was much younger, taller, and so handsome. I wonder if the names being the same, means anything.

Someone once told me that there was no such thing as coincidences, yet my dream is Elisabeth’s life, not mine. I suppose I should ask Alan, but then again suppose he thought…  Oh no, nobody could think I have a crush on George Seelye. Could they?”

              The black cat leapt on to the bed to settle beneath his mistress’ hand. Lydia pouted as she stroked the cat’s sleek coat. “Oh, Trevy,” she sighed. “It was all just a dream, but what a dream.” With Dan away there was no need to hurry out of bed. Lydia nestled down into the sheets, pulling the comforter up against her chin. Soon she drifted off to sleep, seeking once more her dream lover.

             
Lydia recognized the girl Elisabeth standing by an open window. Now Lydia seemed to slide into Elisabeth’s body and she felt the girl’s excitement as a horse and rider approached below. The handsome rider scanned the windows with his gaze. As Elisabeth bent forward to lean out the window she heard a woman’s voice say, “Well, husband, it is time you arrived.”

             
Lydia felt the girl’s fear of discovery as she jumped back from the window, knocking a small vase from a table nearby. Yet Elisabeth could not hold back and dared to peek again, this time to be rewarded with a brilliant smile from the now dismounted horseman.

             
“George,” called the shrill woman’s voice, so well known to Elisabeth. “Are you going to delay all day or do you intend to come in and tell us your news?”  Elisabeth watched as the tall angular woman turned toward the house. Standing at the bottom of the gilded staircase she screamed, “Elisabeth, tell your Mistress her brother is returned from Hever and would speak with her. Elisabeth! Do you hear me, girl?”

             
“The Devil himself in deepest Hell has heard you, wife.  Worry not for the maid Elisabeth.” Spinning his wife around Lord Rochford continued, “Now tell me of the King’s last visit. Does my sister welcome him to her bed?  For he wearies of the chase and will soon search out another hare.”

             
“Husband, fear not. His Grace has found the grazing here to his liking. Since I removed the girl Elisabeth from your sister’s chamber the King has twice been invited therein.”

             
“But does she take him to her bed?”

             
“Am I servant to listen at doors?  Yet I think they have pleasurable times together.”

             
“Good work, Jane.”

             
Lydia awoke sometime late morning with those words repeating in her head, ‘good work, Jane,’ wondering what it all meant.

             
The ringing of the bedside telephone interrupted Lydia’s questioning thoughts. She was pleased to hear Alan's voice.

"Are you busy this afternoon?" he asked in reply to her hello.

"No, no plans, why?"

"I thought today would be a good day to do a regression."

"Dan would have to be there," Lydia replied shyly.

"I would rather not, but time is slipping away. And remember you two promised we would do it soon."

Lydia hesitated.

"It is nothing to be afraid of, I promise. 

“I will have to speak with Dan and he is not home right now. I’ll get him to call you. The kettle’s boiling I have to go,” Lydia said hurriedly. She hung up the telephone before he had a chance to answer her.

SIXTEEN

EARLY SUMMER 1530

              Elisabeth was called to her lady’s chamber. Once released from her deep curtsey Elisabeth made for the hanging closet to bring out her lady’s choice of dress for the day.

             
“No, Elisabeth, leave that. Come brush my hair, I have need of your soothing ministrations,” the Lady Anne said as she seated herself before the polished tin mirror. The sadness of her mistress’ face drew Elisabeth to speak.

             
“Why so sad today, m’lady?” she asked lifting a heavy lock of Anne’s dark hair and beginning to draw long strokes through it with a stiff brush.

             
“Oh, Elisabeth,” Anne sighed, with tears in her doe-like eyes. “Shall I speak to you of pressures of family or seek only solace in your loving touch?”

             
Elisabeth remained silent, her only movement to choose another lock of hair.

             
“My sister’s son has come to Whitehall. Carey thought him his, but I wonder. Still, his Grace does not shout it from the rooftops as he did boast of the wench Blount’s bastard son.” She sighed again, heavily.  “There are those of this household who would have me become as my sister, the King’s whore, but I will not have it.  When I give myself to a man, he will be my husband.  Never in my sister’s footsteps will I tread.”

             
Elisabeth winced as she remembered the touch of another woman’s husband on her skin.

             
Feeling Elisabeth’s shudder, Anne turned to face the girl. “Elisabeth, you are a maiden yet aren’t you?”

“Oh yes, m’lady,” Elisabeth lied. What else could she do?

“Good, then you and I will so remain until the marriage vows are said. I can see by your face that you wonder at the King’s admittance to my chamber. We but play at games, sing, and I read to him. He would like more, that I am sure, but I would not have him take a whore to wife. And his wife I shall be. Elisabeth, you must keep unto yourself, in plight to husband as yet unknown, your virtue, or seek service elsewhere.”

“Yes, my lady.”

The sermon given, Anne released her servant to choose a gown of deep blue and silver tissue. Once dressed, she departed for breakfast leaving Elisabeth to tidy her chamber.

Elisabeth stood morosely before the mullioned window remembering the sweetness of her lover’s embrace. She was not foolish enough to believe he would leave his wife to marry her, yet she dreamed it could be. ‘So, the rumors be false,’ she thought as she struggled with the heavy fur coverlet as she made up the oversize, bolstered bed. ‘She has not given herself to the King as George had boasted. He had been so sure when last he came to my bedchamber.’  Her thoughts turned to their lively lovemaking, leaving her unaware of the opening to the chamber’s door.

“Day dreaming again, Elisabeth?” shrilled Lady Rochford. “Who is the man you lust so over? Ah yes, Ferris in the stables.  Must be, for you were seen entering therein at Hever.”

Elisabeth flushed deep red, turning to hide her embarrassment from Rochford’s prying eyes.

“Never mind, ‘tis common enough behavior for a wench. Still I would not let your mistress know. Come girl, your mistress requires you, but for what purpose I know not. Hurry girl, my sister must not be kept waiting.”

Elisabeth, relieved by the need for haste, ran for the servant’s stairs. Worrying that her meetings had not been as secret as she had thought, she vowed to tell George at the first opportunity. But, alas, that opportunity was not to come for on her arrival she witnessed an argument between her mistress and her lover.

“Anne, will you see reason?” Lord Rochford said.

“That you mean to sully my name, to make me as my sister, a whore. Where is the reason to that?”

“Not whore, Anne, but lover and beloved. Do you not see the wisdom of gaining the King’s complete favor?”

“I have his complete favor now. Witness where I am living and his obvious preference of Whitehall to Westminster.”

“I tell you the hound wearies of the chase.”

“And I tell you I am no hare to be sacrificed to the hunt.”

              “Then it is true. You have withheld your favors?” Jane Rochford asked.

“Of course,” was Anne replied sharply.

“Then your maid is smarter than you for she knows if she seeks a husband above herself she must grant him favor,” Jane Rochford snarled.

George Boleyn snapped his head around to face his wife. “And just what do you mean by that?”

“It’s true enough. She has been seen entering the stables at Hever on at least two occasions.”

“And so what does that mean, pray tell?” her husband snorted.

“On both occasions it was late at night and there can be but one explanation. She goes to meet her lover.” Jane paused for effect, as the room became silent as the grave. “The stable boy, Ferris,” she finished triumphantly.

Elisabeth backed into the shadows of the Great Hall.

“Enough!” shouted the Lady Anne. “This is my household and I will not have you speak so of one so innocent.”

“Innocent! Hrrmph.”

“I told you to be silent, Jane, and I will not repeat myself.”

“But there are witnesses who could be called.”

“Silence, Jane,” her husband growled. “You do not know of what you speak.”

“First, you plead to make me the King’s whore, now you slander my maid, enough of your venom. You will both return to Durham House today. I will have peace in my household and I cannot have it as long as you remain. Pack your things and be gone.”

George Boleyn roughly pushed his muttering wife ahead of him as they exited the Hall. “Hold your tongue, woman, lest I tear it from your head,” he snapped as he caught sight of Elisabeth sheltered in the shadows.

Elisabeth winced at the look he gave her; nodding her assent to his mimed plea for silence. It was the last she would see of him for weeks.

SEVENTEEN

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 30
TH

             
Dan crossed the parking lot from St. Joe’s Health Center to the Medical Arts Building, to George Seelye’s office. Entering George’s private office Dan smiled at his friend seated behind a desk piled high with manila folders.