Betrayal (56 page)

             
“I guess I should have warned the old dears about losing my job, but I didn’t want to worry them,” she said taking a seat opposite Dan.

“You are Lydia’s cousin, right?” Dan asked.

“Yes.”

Jan entered the room carrying a tray with a large bowl of steaming turkey soup, some buttered bread and a cup of coffee.  “Oh, Christine,” she said settling the tray on the table and removing the dishes from it. “I didn’t know you were here. Are you hungry?  I’ve some turkey soup on the cooker if you would like some.”

“Yes, Jan, that would be lovely,” Christine replied. “It is a lovely room isn’t it? The paneling is Jacobean.  I love the way the carpenter has placed the twin round-headed arches on either side of the fireplace.  He had a fine hand for carving. Look how delicately he has decorated the pilasters and bases with fleur-de-lis and trailing vines to match the work on the ceiling. I think this is my favorite room in the house.”

“So do you think you will like going back to London?” Dan asked lifting his spoon to the delicately decorated Mikado bowl.

“I enjoyed working in our little hospice in Torquay. It will certainly be a change, but Michael has been in London all along.”

“What type of work does he do?”

“He’s a neurologist at The Royal Free in Hampstead.”

“The Royal Free, that’s an interesting name.”

“Yes, it was founded in 1828 by a surgeon after he sought care for a dying young woman at several hospitals and was refused because she couldn’t pay. He founded the hospital to provide free care to those in need. Today, it is a major teaching hospital.”

             
“Perhaps you can find a job there?”

             
“Perhaps, when we were first married Michael and I thought of immigrating to Australia, but then thought Canada would be closer to home.  I hope if we do get back together we might consider immigrating again. I loved the sense of adventure we felt as we poured over maps wondering where we would go. I suppose Canada is facing the same shortages of doctors and nurses as we are?”

             
Dan laughed, “Anywhere in Canada would be happy to get such a husband and wife team.”

             
“When are you returning to Canada?” Christine asked.

             
Dan’s face changed, his jaw tightened as he stared down into his empty bowl.

             
Christine regretted her question immediately. She quietly excused herself and left the room. 

             
                                                                      ***

              After an exhausting dinner where Lydia fought to keep her confused feelings for Alan and Dan secret, the party at last separated for the night.

             
Dan was disappointed when Jan showed him to the green bedroom. Expecting to share Lydia’s room he grumbled until Jan gently reminded him that he was not at home.

             
Lydia undressed for bed, her head spinning with the implications of Alan’s declaration of love to her.  “Thank goodness Uncle Henry insisted on separate bedrooms, saying Aunt Ella would never approve.  Dear sweet prudish Aunt Ella, I had thought to be fighting with you to allow Dan into my bedroom, but now,” her voice trailed off as she went into the connecting bathroom to brush her teeth.

             
After having rinsed her mouth Lydia stared into the mirror, hopelessly searching for a way out of her confusion.  Giving up, she thought of the heroine of Gone with the Wind, Scarlett O’Hara, drew her hand to her brow in her best Vivian Leigh imitation, and said aloud. “I will just have to think about that tomorrow.”

             
Just after midnight the house was awakened by Lydia’s loud scream.  It was several minutes before Alan and Dan came running from the opposite ends of the hall meeting Henry and Christine in the corridor.

             
“What’s happening?” Henry asked, tying the belt of his satin dressing gown around his ample waistline.

             
“I heard Lydia scream,” Christine said.

             
“What are you all standing around for?” Alan demanded as he reached Lydia’s door.  He paused to knock lightly on the door, but when another scream was his only response he pushed the door open.

             
Lydia was thrashing around on the high four poster bed.  She was screaming the name Andrew over and over, her voice hysterical with fear.

             
Dan looked to Alan for an explanation but Alan had none to give.

             
“Who is Andrew?” Henry asked Christine.

             
She replied with a shrug of her shoulders.

             
Alan reached the bed first, but his touch did not wake Lydia. He suddenly had an idea.  He turned to Dan. “Pretend that you are this man Andrew and see if Lydia will respond to your voice.”

             
Dan took a step backward shaking his head and raising his hands before him. Lydia’s dreams frightened him and he had no intention of interfering with them.

             
Christine stepped to Dan’s side urging him to try.

             
Dan drew a deep breath and asked Alan, “What do I do?”

             
“Just speak to her.  See if you can get her to tell you what is happening.”

             
Dan shook his head, unwilling to be drawn into this hellish dream of Lydia’s.

             
Lydia screamed again balling herself up into the fetal position, her knees tight against her chest. She was crying piteously as she shivered violently under the feather duvet.

“Oh, okay,” Dan said, moving stiffly to the bed.  Christine moved to his side placing her hand on his shoulder as he leaned over the bed.  With his right hand extended he touched Lydia gently on her arm.  “Dearest,” he said.

“Who are you?” Lydia cried wriggling away from his touch.

Dan looked about the room for a clue to what Lydia was talking about. Seeing none he floundered on.

“I’m Andrew, of course” he said.

“You are not Andrew.  He left me here to die.” Lydia cried her body wracked with violent chills.  “Who are you? Are you with the Anya?  Has she sent you to help me?”

Dan looked to Alan and was dismayed when Alan shrugged his shoulders.  No one in the room knew what Lydia was talking about.  Alan urged Dan to say that he had been sent to help.

Lydia straightened her legs and reached for Dan’s hand, her eyes still firmly closed.  “It is you, isn’t it?  Vladimir?”

Dan grimaced, he didn’t like the game he was playing, but Christine was urging him on so he replied, “Yes, it’s Vladimir; I have come to take you to the Anya.”

Lydia’s shivers stopped as she drifted off to sleep, a small smile creasing her lips.

              Alan shepherded the small group out of the room closing the door behind him saying, “She should sleep now.”

“What the hell was going on in there?” Dan demanded, stopping the group a few feet from Lydia’s door. “And who the hell is Vladimir?”

Alan shook his head.  “I don’t know, but obviously he helped Elisabeth. I will need to do a regression tomorrow with Lydia to see if I can find out.”

“Enough of this nonsense,” Dan shouted.  “Don’t you people realize she is sick and she needs a doctor?”

Henry laid a gentle hand on Dan’s shoulder. “She has one,” he said pointing to Alan, “and we are content with his care.  Now it is late and I think we should all go to bed. We will continue this conversation in the morning.  Are you coming, Christine?”

“I will go back to bed in a few minutes, Uncle; I want to speak with Alan and Dan first.”

“Well, all right.  Good night then,” Henry said as he walked to his bedroom door, opened it, and walked inside closing the door behind him.

“Alan,” Christine said, “I think it is time we told Dan the family history behind the dreams Lydia has had, don’t you?”

“I agree,” Alan said leading the way to the curved staircase. “Do you think you could make us a pot of coffee?”

“Yes, of course.  I will meet you in the lounge in a few minutes.

An hour later Dan was still shaking his head at the fact that the reoccurring dream, had not only troubled Lydia’s mother and grandmother but quite possibly her great-grandmother too. “How can this be?” he asked incredulously.

“I don’t think it is a past-life experience,” Alan said quietly.

“Past life! That is utter foolishness!” Dan shouted, jumping to his feet. “I refuse to be drawn into this nonsense!”

Christine looked at Alan, and gaining his nodded approval, she suggested to Dan they might take a drive into Totnes in the morning to clear their heads.

Dan replied with a smile saying that, yes, he would like that very much.

Alan raised his napkin to his lips to hide his own smile. He was pleased with Dan’s reaction to Christine’s invitation, more pleased then he could politely show. Standing up he suggested mildly that it was indeed time for bed.  The others nodded their agreement and the little troop made its way back upstairs with Alan taking up the rear. He watched quietly as Dan and Christine made their way to their separate rooms closing the doors securely behind them. 

“At least with him gone maybe Lydia and I can do another regression and find out who Vladimir is?” Alan shook his head. He closed his bedroom door and turned towards his bed and sleep. He was tired and he knew he would need his wits about him in the morning if he was going to unravel this newest twist in Elisabeth’s story.

***

             
Dan was sitting across from Lydia in the elegant dining room at Morely’s Cross the next morning. “Who is Vladimir?” he asked, his arms crossed tightly on his chest.

             
“Who?” Lydia replied, choking on a crumb of toast.

             
“You called out his name last night in your sleep, don’t you remember?”

             
“How do you know what I said in my sleep? You weren’t there, were you?”

             
“We all were, Alan, me, Henry, even Christine. Weren’t we?” Dan asked, looking around the table.

             
Christine’s cheeks flamed a deep crimson when Lydia looked her way. Alan simply nodded his head in agreement and Henry Hays-Morely mumbled into his napkin.

             
“What? What are you talking about?” Lydia demanded, stirring her tea so quickly and violently that Christine feared Lydia would crack the old china tea-cup.

             
“You had a nightmare last night,” Alan said quietly hoping to soothe Lydia’s agitated behavior.

             
“You were screaming,” Christine added.

             
“You were shouting out the name, Andrew, over and over again,” Henry said as he reached for another slice of toast.

             
Lydia blushed wildly.  “But who is Vladimir?” she asked shyly.

             
“That’s what we’d like to know” Dan said, staring at Lydia.

“I have no idea,” she said as she nervously folded and unfolded her napkin in her lap.  “Are you sure you heard right?”

              Dan threw his napkin down on the table, pushed back his chair and stood up. “I am telling you now, Lydia, I will not put up with this nonsense any longer. I want it to stop, now. I’ve been offered the directorship of a new Palliative Care Centre in Halifax and I cannot have my colleagues snickering behind my back because my wife believes she is the reincarnation of, of…” Dan paused, searching for the right word, but Lydia interrupted.

             
“I never claimed to be the reincarnation of anybody!” Lydia shouted. “I wasn’t Elisabeth Beeton in a past-life.  Alan thinks she was my great, great, who knows how many greats grandmother.  She was here at Morely’s Cross. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

             
“Grandmother or reincarnation, who cares, I certainly don’t, Lydia, I’m fed up. I’m going home.” Then suddenly Dan remembered his manners. He turned to Henry and continued, “Forgive me for bringing disharmony into your home, Henry, but I cannot stand any more of this nonsense. I hope you can understand.”

             
Before Henry could reply Dan burst out of the room, slamming the heavy oak door behind him.

             
Lydia paled.  She couldn’t understand Dan’s outburst. She had no memory of the dream. “Perhaps, I should go after him,” she said laying her napkin aside.

             
“Let him cool down a bit,” Henry suggested.  “I’ll go and make sure he is all right.”

“But who is Vladimir?” Lydia asked, confused by the scene that had just taken place.