Nell (11 page)

So he had. The answer came to her as clearly as the bells of Westminster. Her father had wished to rule all of Ireland. Admitting the truth would keep her alive and convince Henry of her integrity. “Aye. That was his dream, albeit a distant one.”

Henry chuckled. “Good girl. I'd not expected that.” He stopped and took her chin in his hand, turning her head so that she was forced to look at him. “We shall get on well together, Eleanor. You are clever. I enjoy clever women, although I prefer not to marry them.”

“I am indeed fortunate that your grace is well and truly married and that soon you will be a father again.”

His eyes glittered strangely as they moved over her face. Deliberately, he rubbed her jaw with his thumb. “All in good time, Eleanor. All in good time. The child does not sit well with Jane, but she is England's queen, and so she shall be honored.”

Henry's thumb was at the corner of her mouth. Nell prayed that she wouldn't gag. Affecting a sneeze, she stepped back out of his reach. “Your sentiments do you credit, cousin,” she said. “I look forward to meeting your wife. Great care must be taken to keep her calm. After all, the succession is at stake.”

They were at the entrance to the conservatory, and no one else was in the hall. He held open the door and followed her inside. Nell looked around, and her heart sank. The room was a riot of blooming color and completely empty of anyone but the two of them. She could feel the king behind her, so close that the repulsive, unmistakable odor of rotting flesh reached her nose.

She willed herself not to flinch when his hands came down on her shoulders. His breath was hot against her ear. “We shall deal well together, Nell,” he said hoarsely.

“Of course, your grace,” she replied in a cool voice.

“You are so lovely.” His lips seared the nape of her neck.

Nell's back teeth locked. “Your queen would not approve.”

“We must be very discreet so as not to alarm Jane and bring on the babe. You do understand how important a son is to me, don't you, Nell?”

She suffered his hands as they slid down her arms and settled on her waist. “It must be your sole concern, your grace.”

“Call me Henry. I would hear my name on your lips.”

“Henry.”

He turned her around and pulled her against him. Feverishly, he ran his hands across the exposed skin above her neckline. “Holy God, how I want you. You are driving me mad with wanting.” Bending his head, he covered her mouth with his own.

When she could stand no more of his probing tongue, Nell pushed him away and fought the urge to scrub her mouth. “This is madness,” she gasped. “They will look for us and gossip. Word will spread throughout the court and reach the queen.” She locked her fingers together and left her future to fate. “I have no wish to become a royal mistress, your grace. Surely there are others who can satisfy you until Jane is recovered.”

Henry adjusted his corset and stretched his aching leg. He needed whiskey quickly. The exertion pained him more than he would admit to anyone. He frowned. The Fitzgerald chit needed reminding that his power was absolute. He would rather she be willing, but he would take her whether or not she wished it. “I can do much for you, Nell.”

“My needs are few.”

He took her hand. “There is young Gerald to think of. Is his life less than your maidenhood?”

She would make him say it. “You would spare Gerald if I agree to share your bed?”

“I would. And when we finish with each other, I will settle gold upon you. You will be a rich woman.”

She sent up a silent prayer of thanksgiving that Donal's child would soon be in evidence. Henry would not want her then. “Shall we bargain, your grace? My body for as long as you want it in exchange for gold and my brother's life.”

He stroked her cheek. “Not so quickly, lass. We must arrange this carefully. Jane must never hear of it.”

The warm air was making her head ache. “She will not hear of it from me, Henry.”

His fleshy face broke into a wide grin. “Good girl. You may wait on me tonight in my chambers.”

Bowing her head, she allowed him to place his arm around her waist and lead her out of the room.

***

Nell gritted her teeth and paced back and forth from one end of her small chamber to the other. Forward three strides and back three, forward and back, back and forth, kicking the confining skirts from between her legs. The man was thrice her age and gross enough to make her skin crawl. She imagined the oozing sore on his leg, and the mere thought of it made the nausea rise in her stomach. Her mouth twisted humorlessly. Hadn't she predicted that she would be given to just such a man? If only she had gone with Donal to Aughnanure.

She heard a hissing sound. The flames rose and spit as if a gust of rain had blown down into the hearth. Her eyes widened, and the hairs on the back of her neck lifted. She felt something, a presence in the room that had not been there before. There could be no mistaking it. Her mother had brought her to an awareness of the netherworld after her first Beltane.

Nell blinked and rubbed her eyes. A form, oddly familiar in its strangeness, stepped forward out of the licking flames and into the room. Nell gasped. It was a girl dressed like a man. She stared at the apparition for several seconds before finding her voice. “Who are you?”

The girl brushed the soot from her sleeves.
You
know
perfectly
well
who
I
am, Nell. I told you I wouldn't come. Now send me back immediately.

Nell lifted her chin. “Identify yourself, or I'll call a guard.”

That's rich. I wonder if anyone will be able to see me here, in your time. After all, no one can see you in mine. Why don't we try it? Call the guard.

Nell inched toward the door. “I've never seen you before. Tell me who you are.”

Jillian frowned.
I'm Jillian Fitzgerald
, she said slowly.
Please
say
that
you
know
me. You've visited me all of my life until a few years ago. For some reason, you decided that I should come back here with you.

Nell's mouth dropped open. She would have spoken, but a soft scratching noise at the door stopped her. She looked at Jillian, a question in her eyes.

Jillian shrugged.

“Come in,” Nell called out.

A servant stood at the door. “Did you wish for a bath, my lady?”

“Yes.” She looked from the serving girl to Jillian and back again. “Anne, was anyone in my room this afternoon?”

“No one but me, my lady.” She looked around. “Was anything out of place?”

“No, not at all. A bath will be lovely. But not until later.” Quickly, she closed the door on the confused servant and spun around to where Jillian stood in the center of the room. “She didn't see you.”

Apparently
not.

“But why?”

I've already told you. I'm not of this time. I haven't been born yet. I don't exist.

Nell sat down weakly on the bed. “From what time period do you come?”

The
twentieth
century, nineteen hundred seventy-eight, to be exact.

“In your century, can people move freely back and forth across time as you do?”

No. At least, I've never heard of anyone doing it.

“And you expect me to believe you?”

Jillian flushed and balled her fists.
I
don't expect anything but to be sent home immediately. You brought me here, now send me back. I didn't want to come in the first place.

The fire crackled and a log snapped, sending a shower of sparks onto the brick hearth. “I do believe you, Jillian Fitzgerald,” Nell said softly, “and I'm very sorry, but I have no idea how to send you anywhere.”

Jillian's face lost its color, and she sank down onto Nell's feather mattress.
How
can
this
be? Why don't you know me?

Nell tilted her head and thought. “Tell me what it is that I should know about you.”

Pressing her fingers against her temples, Jillian shook her head.
Most
of
it
was
a
long
time
ago. But there was something strange that happened recently.

“Go on.”

After
six
years, you came back and told me you were carrying a child. You asked me to tell you everything historians had written about you because you had to make a decision. I wasn't much help, I'm afraid. There is no record of a Nell Fitzgerald in anything I've researched. It's as if you never existed at all.

Nell's forehead wrinkled. She stared at the stranger with her shoulder-length hair, her slim curves revealed by the odd clothing she wore. “How strange. Perhaps there is something you've overlooked.”

You've come to me all of my life, Nell. It isn't likely I'd miss your name.

“Eleanor is a family name,” Nell explained. “There is one of us in every generation. Perhaps you've confused me with someone else.”

Jillian's mouth dropped.
I'm stupid,
she whispered.
Totally, completely stupid, an idiot, a blind idiot.
She jumped up and rewalked the path that Nell had recently worn into the floorboards.

“I'm sure you'll enlighten me when you've finished maligning yourself,” Nell said, allowing the faintest tinge of mockery to color her voice.

Don't you see, Nell?
Jillian had come to a complete stop in front of her.
I
didn't know your name was Eleanor. All this time I've been looking for
Nell.

“Good Lord.”

Exactly.

Nell's eyes gleamed. “Then you
can
tell me what lies ahead.”

Not
a
great
deal
of
it,
said Jillian reluctantly.
If
I
remember
correctly, Eleanor Fitzgerald was married briefly to Robert Montgomery. Later, she was kidnapped by an Irish chieftain, and all traces of her were lost.

“That's impossible. Robert Montgomery has no wish to marry me, nor I him.”

Jillian leaned back on the bed and crossed her arms under her head.
Do
you
know
him?

“We've met.” Nell blushed, remembering a conversation late one night by the fire and the way the knight's eyes had lingered on her face. “Jillian, I must ask you one final question. Do not spare me, for I would know the worst. Does history tell of Henry Tudor's women?”

It
has
a
great
deal
to
say
about
his
wives.

Nell wet her lips and looked away from Jillian's expressive sea-colored eyes. “What of the women he bedded who were not his wives?”

Jillian stared at Nell and, for the first time, realized the disadvantages of beauty. When she spoke, her voice was very gentle.
I'm sorry, Nell. I've never really given it much attention. Perhaps if I went back, I could find out.

Nell's laugh was bitter. “I haven't time for that. Henry expects me tonight.”

Jillian thought for a minute.
When
you
came
to
me, you said that you carried a child. You told me the father's name, but I can't remember it. Whose child is it, Nell?

Nell shook her head. “I will not say. The less you know, the better.”

No
one
can
see
or
hear
me. I don't exist. It doesn't matter what I know.

“Why do you need to know anything?”

To
help
you
and
to
get
back
to
where
I
belong. My life is just beginning. I want to live it.

“How can you help me?”

I'm a Fitzgerald. My family can trace its ancestry back a thousand years. If you tell me who the father of your child is, I may be able to tell you where he fits on our family tree and who his descendants are.
Her own innate honesty forced her to admit another possibility.
There
is
the
chance
that
I
may
find
nothing
at
all.

“You're forgetting that I have no idea how to send you back.”

A voice through the door interrupted them. “Your bath water has arrived, my lady.”

Jillian and Nell exchanged identical looks of dismay. “I've run out of time, Jillian,” whispered Nell. “There is nothing more to do except pray.”

Ordinarily, that would reassure me,
said Jillian dryly,
except
that
is
exactly
what
I
was
doing
before
I
ended
up
here.
She thought a moment.
I
may
be
able
to
help
you, temporarily, if you do exactly as I say.

Nell looked puzzled. “I don't understand.”