Betrayal (33 page)

             
“Don’t think so, but I’m sure there must be some King Cole tea around somewhere.”

             
“That would be fine, thanks.”

             
“Sure, come along, the lounge is just here. It used to be for faculty use only, but now it is quite a hangout for students, so it’s a bit of a mess. Did you bring the journal?”

             
“Yes, it’s right here,” Lydia answered, patting her purse.

             
Once they were settled with their drinks on the long battered sofa in the Professor’s lounge, Lydia handed the book to Alan.

             
His hands caressed the thin, worn leather of the small book. Smiling, he said, “I almost feel I should genuflect before this treasure.” Quietly, he gently turned the pages of the four hundred and seventy year-old book. Early in the book Alan stopped and read a few lines aloud.

             
‘My lord the King has taken possession of York Place and my lord Cardinal has been forced from his home. My lord King has given it for the London residence for his lady Anne. Though I like her not, for she is the King’s whore, I was chosen to serve her. When it was learned that I could both read and write she tooke me to her charge. So it was that I came to serve the Lady Anne Boleyn.’

             
“Anne Boleyn!” Alan gasped. “Do you realize, Lydia, what we have here? We have a contemporary record of life at the Court of Henry VIII. All hope of finding such a thing has long ago been lost. There are commentaries like Thomas More and Chapuys, but this book has the company of that of Madame Campan, Marie Antoinette’s lady in waiting, and that one that was written by one of the ladies in the Court of Nicholas II of Russia. I can’t remember her name, but it was a fascinating look at Court life.”

             
Turning a few more pages, he was about to speak when Lydia leaned forward to point to a particular page. “Begin here, where I stopped just before I came to see you.”

‘I met Master Tremayne at the Three Bells as Jamie bid. The evening was darkening even though it was still summer. Heavy clouds threatened to block the lowering sun. The public house called the Three Bells lay riverside, outside the city of Westminster.

              I tooke stock of Master Tremayne as we entered. He was tall and lean of body. His dark hair crowned his head like a mop, long damp tendrils hung limply about his face. It was a pleasant face, yes, even a handsome face, for he was a good looking man. Perhaps he thought too much of himself or I too little of myself for I allowed Master Tremayne to walk with me along the river’s bank. Jamie had remained behind so that we might speak privately. I told him I loved another and could not be his bride. He grew angry when I refused to name the man.

‘That you love another, Elisabeth, matters not at all. I am given your hand in marriage by your grandfather’s decree. I will have you to wife. Your grandfather in his wisdom has seen that to better serve our purposes you must become my wife. Jamie is to announce our forthcoming marriage tomorrow,’ he told me, grabbing for my hand.

‘I cannot!’ I cried pushing away from his embrace. ‘I will not!’ I screamed as I ran back to the palace. ‘I am lost!’

Here the journal entry ended abruptly. Alan sat staring into space for a few moments before he at last spoke. “Wow!  All I can say is wow. I wonder, what happened next?”

“I don’t know, there seem to be several pages missing from the journal. The next entry is a brief one, mentioning someone, a friend perhaps, who is betrothed to Elisabeth’s cousin.”

“Perhaps now would be a good time to do a regression. Shall we go downstairs to my office?”

Once downstairs, Lydia settled into the soft leather chair opposite Alan’s desk. “All right, Lydia, make yourself comfortable. Let me put some music on and we will begin.”

Lydia smiled as the familiar, peaceful tones of the Canon filled the room.

“Now, Lydia, you know how this is done so please take a few minutes to relax your body. Picture in your mind a warm sandy beach. Feel the warmth of the sand in your feet. Your feet and legs feel warm and heavy with relaxation. Feel the warmth enter your stomach and solar plexus. Feel your muscles relax under the soothing heat. Feel the heat rise to your chest. You are becoming more and more relaxed with each long, slow breath. Your neck is the next to feel the sand’s warmth and your head is heavy. Your eyelids are heavy. Close your eyes and continue to breathe deeply.

As you look ahead you see there is a set of stairs leading down. Begin to descend the stairs, Lydia, becoming more relaxed with each step. One, deeper, two deeper, three deeper yet. Four, deeper down, five, deeper, six, deeper down, more and more relaxed. Seven, deeper, eight, deeper, nine, deeper,” Alan paused for a moment, lowering his voice, he continued, “ten, you are now completely relaxed. Feel the peace of your relaxed state. Now, Lydia, there before you, is a crystal door. Open the door, Lydia, and pass through. What do you see?”

              “I am not sure.”

             
“Look around you; do you see anyone you recognize?”

             
“The mist is so thick I cannot see the prow of the boat. My lady Queen sits beneath the canvas cover. The smoke of the city lies low and fouls the air we breathe. My lady is eager to see the new lion brought from Africa. Her lady cousin accompanies us to the Tower, to see the King’s animals.” Lydia paused. Alan marveled that her voice sounded so different.  “There is to be a masque tomorrow night in celebration of the Feast of St. Francis of Assisi. It is to be held in the White Tower. The King and his favorites will arrive on the next tide.”

             
Lydia hesitated, frowning momentarily; then a wide smile creased her lips. “Sarah? Is that you?” she called out loudly, startling Alan.

             
“Who is it you see, Lydia?”

             
“It is Sarah, I know it is. But how can she be here?”

             
“Where are you?”

             
“We are entering the Tower by the water gate. She is standing on the stair. Can it be? Do my eyes deceive me?” Lydia paused for a moment then called out loudly, “Sarah, is that you?”

             
Lydia paused as if listening to someone. Alan grew restless.

             
“What is happening Lydia?” he said impatiently.

             
“Who is Lydia? My name is Elisabeth. Have we met before? I know your voice.”

             
“Yes, Mistress, we have met at Greenwich when the little princess was born.”

             
“Oh, yes, I remember you, the fellow who knew neither time nor place.”

             
“You remember me? How can that be?”

             
“Pardon, sir, but you delay me. I must be about my lady’s business. Sarah! Wait I am coming.”

             
Alan began to protest, but Lydia raised her hand to fend him off, and opening her eyes, she said, “She’s gone.”

             
“How can this be? She remembered me, how could she remember me? She is a shadow we are observing, how can she know and remember me? I don’t believe this. I have never heard of such a thing happening under hypnosis. What just happened here? Alan stared sightlessly at Lydia. “We have to start again.”

             
Lydia frowned.

             
“Oh, no, not today, I know you’re tired but you must agree to let me hypnotize you again. Tomorrow? What about tomorrow? Can we meet again then?’

             
“No, Alan, there’s not enough time.”

             
“What do you mean?’

             
“I’m going home to England. I must find out how this diary came to be at Morely’s Cross. I told you that I planned to go as soon as I can get a flight.”

             
“Lydia, I must speak with her again. She recognized my voice and spoke directly to me. I must speak with her again,” Alan pleaded.

             
“I recognized your voice. It was me who spoke to you.”

             
“No, Lydia, your voice was different; the accent was heavy and unfamiliar. We have made contact with a woman who has been dead four hundred and fifty years!”

             
“Alan, you are frightening me. Let go of my hand, you’re hurting me.”

             
“Lydia, I want to go to England with you.”

             
“I don’t think that would be a good idea. Dan can’t come and I don’t think he would like it if you did.”

             
“You can’t leave it like this Lydia; you must help me discover how Elisabeth knows me,” Alan pleaded, scraping his hand through his hair in frustration.

             
“She doesn’t know you. You asked your questions during the session and I answered them. What is the mystery in that?”

             
“I was merely directing you under trance. That is not unusual, but I have never read of the subject of the regression recognizing the questioner.” Taking her hand again Alan begged, “Please Lydia, I must go to England with you. I have to be there with you. Please say I can come. I think I am falling in love with you.” He caressed her hand, leaning forward he tried to kiss her.

             
Lydia stood up, anxious to leave. “I must be going, Alan, I really must,” she continued as she pushed past him, running into the hallway.

             
“Lydia, stop, please. We have just had the most incredible experience. We need to catalogue it, study it, and we must try to repeat it.”

             
“No, Alan, I must go.”

             
“Lydia,” he called helplessly to her retreating back. Slowly he walked back to his office, cursing when he realized he had forgotten to turn on the tape recorder.  He slumped in his chair and pulled a bottle of whiskey from the bottom drawer of his desk. As he drank a tumbler of the fiery amber liquid, Alan began to plan his next move.

TWENTY-TWO

OCTOBER 1534

              George Boleyn entered the Queen’s apartments unannounced. He dismissed her ladies with a wave of his hand.  “Jane is away,” he said, taking a seat next to his sister. “She is going first to her parents, then she will go on to Beaulieu Palace. I should have gone with her but …”

             
“You have other matters on your mind,” the young Queen said quietly.

             
“Yes. I must speak with you.”

             
“I know what you want to say.”

             
“How can you?”

             
“You want me to ask Henry to bring Jane back to Court. Do you not?”

             
“Good Lord, no! I want you to help me gain permission to have her put aside.”

             
“You mean, divorce her!”

             
“If need be. I am in love and want to be free to remarry.”

             
“And who is this temptress that causes your insanity?”

             
“Elisabeth.”

             
“Elizabeth? Elizabeth who?”

             
George hesitated. He bit his lower lip as he tried to summon the courage to bear her wrath.  “I want to marry Elisabeth Beeton.  She is pregnant with my child. I love her and I want her for my wife,” he said hurriedly, afraid he would lose his courage before he finished his thought. He exhaled heavily, waiting for the response he knew he would get.

             
“Are you mad?  You cannot put aside Jane to marry a servant.”

             
“She is carrying my child. I am to be a father; I thought never to have this joy.”

             
“She is a servant!”

             
“I love her!

             
“That is as may be, but you cannot marry the wench. She shall go north,” Anne said turning from her brother.

             
“I will not be separated from her.  Do not punish me thus. You above all others know the misery my marriage has been to me. Please, Anne, do not send her away in shame.” George pleaded.

             
Exasperated, Anne sighed heavily. “If you will be so heart sick, then she will return to my service after the babe is born. In truth I would miss her if she did not. But you may not claim the child just yet. I must give the King a son first. All else is lost if I fail at that.”

             
“Where shall she be sent?” George asked hopefully.

             
“To Staffordshire, to Eccleshall, I think. We have friends there who will be discreet, yet reliable should you wish to acknowledge the child later.”

             
“Of course I intend to acknowledge the child. But to whom should she go?”

             
“We will send her to Samuel Sutton. He is a merchant there; he has his ear to the ground for the Bishop of Litchfield, a very useful man, Master Sutton.” Anne paused, running her fingertips over her lips as she pondered the dilemma.  “It is decided. She shall go to Staffordshire. Master Sutton and his wife will care for Elisabeth and her babe,” Anne said, turning back to face her brother. “It is more than you deserve to soil the girl so.”

             
“And Jane?”

             
“Jane is gone. We will deal with her when the time comes. Some lie can be made up to excuse Elisabeth’s absence should Jane return before the girl.”

             
“So, is the King that angry?”

             
“More, he had the wench ready to bed when Jane told the girl’s parents and they removed her from Court.”

             
“Has Henry said how long Jane must stay away?” George asked hopefully.

             
“No, but he hopes it is forever,” Anne laughed.

             
“Pray God it is so,” George said, lifting his sister and swinging her around in a wide circle.

             
“Remember, George, Jane’s father, Lord Morley, has the King’s favor, so she will not be gone overlong.”

             
“Then we must get Elisabeth off to Staffordshire and Eccleshall as soon as possible.”

TWENTY-THREE

BOXING DAY AFTERNOON

              The telephone brought Lydia out her remembrance of her regression session with Alan.  Elisabeth’s diary lay open on her lap.

             
It was an agent from Air Canada confirming a seat on tonight’s flight, arriving in London at 9:35 in the morning.

             
Lydia mumbled her thanks as her mind raced to cover all the details of her rapidly upcoming trip. “Thank goodness my bags are packed,” she said, looking at the two small suitcases she had packed when she came home from the university.

             
“So, you are going?”

             
Lydia turned to see Dan standing in the doorway. “Yes,” she said, ‘that was Air Canada. They had a cancellation so I have a seat on tonight’s flight.”

             
“Tonight?”

             
“Yes, I thought it best to get on with it.

             
“How long will you be gone?”

             
“A fortnight, I expect.”

             
“Two weeks?”

             
“At the very least, I would think.”

             
“Is Alan going?”

             
“I haven’t asked him.”

             
Dan’s audible sigh of relief shocked Lydia. “You really didn’t think I was planning on running off with him, did you Dan?”

             
Dan hesitated.

             
“You didn’t, did you Dan?”

             
“I didn’t know what to think, this has all happened too fast.”

             
“I’m going home. I’m going to find Elisabeth and…” Lydia paused “perhaps myself. I’m not looking for another man, I’m looking for myself. Can you understand that, Dan?”

             
“Yes, I think I can. So, you will be coming home?”

             
“Yes.”

             
“Then I guess I can let you go.”

             
“You must.”

             
“Then I will. Where will you stay, at Morely’s Cross?”

“No, I made reservations at a hotel in Totnes.”

“How did you do that?”

“When I got back from my regression session Alan called and asked how I was going to get to Totnes. When I said Uncle Henry was going to send someone to London, Alan told me that it was a very long drive for someone to come to London. He suggested going on-line to check train schedules, which we did. He also recommended that I might want to be able stay in a hotel should the need arise. So we booked a room for me in a hotel called The Seven Seas…I think that’s the name. I have it written down somewhere.” Lydia paused, looking for her purse.

“Quite the little helper our Alan is,” Dan sneered.

“He was quite a help. Yes.”

“What time does your flight leave?

“It leaves at eight-oh-five tonight from Saint John.”

              “Where is your overseas flight out of?”

             
“Halifax. It leaves at eleven forty-five.”

             
“Not much time between flights,” Dan said, frowning. “But at least Halifax is a small airport. You should make your connection okay. Have you called Henry and Ella yet?”

             
“Not yet. I hope they will understand about my wanting to stay in Totnes. I don’t want to impose.”

             
“I’m sure they will,” Dan said, stepping to the hearth to turn down the gas fire. “Why don’t you make that call now?” Dan continued, “I need a cup of coffee.  Do you want a cup of tea?”

             
“Yes, thanks. And thanks for understanding.”

             
“I don’t understand, but I’m trying.” Dan smiled weakly as he as he turned to leave the room.

             
“I know, Dan,” Lydia said smiling. “Thanks for trying.”

             
“You’re welcome. Now make that call; I’m getting hungry.”             

“I will,” Lydia said. Turning to the telephone she dialed the fifteen digits of the overseas telephone number. Listening for the familiar double ring she framed her words.

              “Hello.”

             
“Hello, Uncle Henry?”

             
“Yes, this is he. Is that you, Lydia?”

             
“Yes, Uncle Henry.”

             
“Have you made your plans?”

             
“Yes, I am coming tonight.”

             
“Tonight, you say! Oh! I shan’t be able to get Willis to London tonight. It is nearly ten o’clock here.”

             
“No, my flight from Canada is tonight, but I arrive in Heathrow tomorrow morning. I will take the train from Paddington Station to Newton Abbot. That’s right, isn’t it? And then I change trains for Totnes.  I have made reservations at a hotel called The Seven Seas, do you know it?”

             
“Know it? Seas, you say? You mean The Royal Seven Stars, yes I know it, but aren’t you staying with us?”

             
“I’ll explain when I get there. I will call when I get to Totnes.”

             
“I really do think you must let us meet you at the train.”

             
“No, Uncle Henry, I must do this on my own.”

             
“Very well, if you say so, my dear.”

             
“Yes, I will call you tomorrow.”

             
“Yes, dear, we are so looking forward to meeting you at long last.”

             
“Me, too. Goodbye for now.”

             
“Goodbye, my dear, safe journey and all that.”

             
“Thank you. See you soon.”

             
Lydia was hanging up the telephone as Dan came into the living room, balancing a rattling teacup in its saucer in one hand and his steaming cup of coffee and plate of Christmas cookies in his other.  “You really should join the circus,” Lydia teased, easing her bone china cup from his tight grasp. “That’s quite a balancing act.”

             
“Have you finished the call to England already?”

             
“Yes. I don’t think he was too happy I’m planning to stay in a hotel.”

             
“He will understand,” Dan said, settling down on the sofa. He patted the seat beside him, inviting Lydia to sit down.

             
Smiling, she did.

             
“Well,” he said.

             
“Well,” she said.

             
“I have to admit I’m relieved that you intend to come back.”

             
“So am I,” Lydia laughed.

             
A wide smile creased Dan’s face as his hand reached for hers.

             
“We have a few minutes before we have to leave,” he said.

             
“We do,” Lydia cooed.

             
“Shall we?” Dan asked.

             
“Let’s do.”

             
Taking her hand Dan led Lydia to the bedroom. After, as they lay entangled in the sweat-soaked sheets, Lydia caressed Dan’s face.  “I wish you could come with me.”

             
“I will try to follow, but I can’t make any promises.”

             
“If you are willing to try, I don’t need any promises,” she said, kissing his chin as she reached once more for him.

             
Dan responded immediately to her touch and they made love again.

             
Now as they lay in contented silence, Dan ran his hand over Lydia’s smooth belly, feeling the rising curve of her hip. His fingers made circles across her taut stomach to slide over her hip, and then he raised his hand to cup her breast.

             
“I love you, Dan.” Lydia’s face clouded as she thought of Alan’s kiss.

             
“I know,” he replied, kissing her hair. “Come home soon.”

             
“I will.”

             
Dan nestled in, pulling Lydia closer.

             
“I thought you were hungry?” Lydia teased.

             
“I was,” Dan said as he nuzzled her sweet smelling hair, “for you.  Do we have time for dessert?” Glancing at the bedside clock Dan grimaced. “I guess not. What time did you say your flight was?”