Waking Elizabeth (6 page)

Chapter
7

A
s I stood at the
picture windows looking out, the lights of Tower Bridge gleamed in the distance
from our overly extravagant room at the Grange Hotel in London.
 
I had shed my black cardigan and stood
rubbing the chills that formed on my arms as I contemplated the strange feeling
of familiarity that washed over me as I looked at the stone fortress just
outside our windows.
 
It was the Tower of
London.
 
I had seen thousands of pictures
of it in magazines and on TV but none of them was able to convey the
overwhelming power of the formidable castle.
 
I felt a peculiar tightness in my chest, an almost suffocating awareness
and as impossible as it may seem, I felt I knew this place.
 

“Well?
 
What do you think?
 
Feel anything yet?” Jess asked as if sensing
my reaction.

“No,”
I lied, “But it is beautiful.”

“Well,”
Jess came up behind me and handed me a glass of wine from the bottle that had
been waiting for us in our magnificent suite, “You can go inside of it
tomorrow, see what you think.”

That
single thought both terrified me and filled me with exhilaration.
 
“Awesome,” I fought hard to downplay my
feelings.

“I
have some meetings tomorrow but I’m going to try and meet up with you.
 
Do you have a copy of that forty page
itinerary that Geoff planned for you?”

I
laughed at her reference to the multi-page document that was perfectly packaged
in a folder with colored font and highlights, “It’s almost a piece of art,
isn’t it?”

“Jesus,
did he miss his calling or what?” Jess reached for the report which sat on the
counter, “Day 1,” she read with fake enthusiasm as she held her glass of wine,
“Arrive in London and take a 5 minute bathroom break at nearest restroom to
gate 23 at Heathrow Airport.”

I
doubled over laughing at her outrageous rendition and was not entirely certain
that it wasn’t in there exactly as she stated, “He goes a bit overboard,” I
giggled.

“You
think?” she winked at me, tossing the itinerary back on the marble counter, “So
what do you think of this place?”
 
We
both looked around, “It’s gorgeous!” she said with a wave.

“It
is,” and I was truly in awe, “I think I could live here for two weeks.”

“Good,”
Jess smiled, “Because we are!”

The
next morning I glanced at Geoff’s itinerary and was thankful that he scheduled
a visit to the Tower.
 
It was right
across the street, within walking distance, which meant my first day touring on
my own could be slow paced without fighting with transportation.
 
I was still a little jet lagged but not near
as affected as I thought I’d be.
 
Jess
had left early for the first of many meetings or tours she had over the week
and I must say that I enjoyed having the suite to myself and leisurely getting
ready for my day at my own pace.
 
It had
been a while since I had a proper vacation and I couldn’t say I had ever struck
out by myself like I planned to do today.
 
I attempted to dress very casual and un-touristy in a pair of jeans and
a gray t-shirt.
 
I chose to carry my
small leather backpack as opposed to a purse and for shoes I chose the always
comfortable and no frill black leather flats.
 
The weather was picture perfect with zero humidity so my hair did
shockingly good without a hint of frizz.
 
I thought about putting it up but in the end I opted for down, deciding
instead to take advantage of the weather that was so opposite of the oppressive
summer in Virginia.
 
I grabbed an olive
green military style hat and some dark sunglasses to complete my ‘I’m not an
American tourist’ outfit for the day.
 
Downstairs I snagged a few brochures from the lobby before ducking into
the fancy dining room for a quick breakfast.
 
Everything was quite good except for the site of grilled tomatoes and
the undercooked bacon.
 
When I tried to
pay the bill the waitress asked me what room I was in.

“304,”
I answered.

“I’ll
just put it on the room charge, Miss.”

“Oh,”
I smiled, “Thank you.”

I
immediately reached for my phone and dialed Jess, knowing that her meeting
didn’t start until 10am.

“Good
morning you!” she said cheerfully.

“Hey,”
I smiled at her voice, “I’m off to explore and I just had breakfast at the
hotel and she put it on the room.
 
I’ll
take care of that at the end of the trip.
 
I just wanted you to know.”

“Actually,
Blair is taking care of it.
 
It was
suppose to be a surprise, and she didn’t tell you before because, well, you
know how she is, but she’s paying all of our ‘expenses’ we rack up in the
room.
 
Full bar, food, you name it.”

“What?”
I was speechless and yet not that surprised, “She doesn’t have to do that.”

“She
wants to do it but she didn’t want us to make that big of a deal out of
it.
 
She’s also rented you a driver for
the week.
 
You’re supposed to call him
whenever you want to go anywhere that’s outside of walking distance.”

I
shook my head.
 
Grandiose was Blair’s
specialty, “I’ll have to call her.
 
It’s
really sweet of her.”

“She
loves it, it’s her thing.
 
Spending
family money on other people,” Jess laughed, “I didn’t tell you yet because I
knew you were doing the Tower thing today.
 
Speaking of, are you on your way?”

“I
am.
 
I’m decked out in my best blend in
outfit,” I smiled at the waitress as I left what I thought was a sufficient tip
on the table, still unsure about the foreign coins in my hand.

“Doll,
you will never blend in with your looks,” Jess said in a hushed voice before
quickly continuing, “Ok, big guys are here, have to scoot.
 
Have fun today and be careful.”

“I
will. It’s only across the street.
 
I
don’t think I can get into too much trouble,” I pushed open the revolving door
and the cool London breeze swept across my face.

“Well,
you know what I mean.
 
Don’t order any
executions or send anyone to the dungeon,” Jess whispered.

I
rolled my eyes and smirked silently into the phone, “Well.
 
No one better piss me off than, huh?”

I
strolled down Prescot Street and ambled towards the imposing Tower Bridge in
the distance.
 
Surprisingly there were
not many people out and about and I was able to really take my time and enjoy
the sites.
 
My face lit up when I saw the
familiar green Starbucks sign on the corner and I went in and asked for my
favorite.
 
Thankfully some things were
universally the same no matter where you were in the world.
 
Feeling utterly hipster-ish, I ventured down
the street with my leather bag tossed over my shoulder.
 

I
could hear the seagulls screeching as I approached the Thames River and the
infamous Tower Bridge.
 
I pulled out my
guidebook and flipped it open to read a little about the old bridge as I took a
minute to sit quietly on a bench.
 
Snapping a quick picture, I sent it to Geoff,
I’m here, enjoying a quiet day with some old stuff.
 
He pinged me back almost instantly
, Cool!
 
Have fun, your grace!

I
smiled.
 
I missed him already.
 
I sat a few extra minutes, watching the
people wander down the narrow street that separated the Tower of London from
the river.
 
I watched as they walked
past, barely even glancing up at the building that soared above them that was
over 900 years old.
 
900 years!
 
That simple fact
alone was staggering.
 
I rose to my feet
and joined them, ambiguously blending in as I made my way to the entry
gate.
 
As I walked along, the sloshing of
water caught my attention and I turned to the right towards the sound.
 
There was an old gate there, sinking into the
murky water, the small waves splashing against the iron bars.
 
I squinted as I read the sign above the
closed gates.
 
Traitors Gate
.
 
The words
felt heavy in my mind as I focused on the green tinted brackish water that
flowed under the gates towards the tower.
 
I closed my eyes briefly and listened to the water rippling below and
the creaking of the gate as it moved ever so slightly against the current.
 
A vision of night, the gates parting, and the
front of a rickety boat flashed in my mind.
 
Rain fell all around me as I huddled on the small boat.
 
My eyes snapped open, forcing the uninvited
apparition
from my thoughts.
 
My first reaction was anger
.
 
Why
did that keep happening to me!
 
Was I
imagining these things or were they real, being forced there by her?
 
I focused on the sign and the words printed
there.
 
How was it that it felt more
familiar to me now than it did 3 minutes ago?
 
Frustrated I tore myself away from gate and walked briskly towards the
entry to the Tower.
 
I opened my wallet
and pulled out a card that Geoff had ordered for me before the trip.
 
In his research he had come across a handy
little Heritage Pass that pretty much got you into all the historical
attractions in England.
 
It was much
cheaper than paying outright for each ticket and it was about to be used for
the first time.
 
I handed it to the nice
lady in the guard box and she instructed me to go to the visitor’s center to
activate it.
 
I followed her instructions
and entered a door on the right with a sign that said
Visitors Center/Historical Documents Office.
 
Another cheerful Brit greeted me from behind
the counter.
 
I smiled and showed her my
Heritage Pass.

“Is
this your first stop?” she asked me, her lively accent making me smile.

“Yes,”
I answered.

“I’ll
just activate this for you,” she took the card and swiped it into a
machine.
 
She then asked for my
identification, “Virginia!” she exclaimed with excitement, “I’ve always wanted
to go there.”

“Really?”
I was intrigued, “Why is that?”

“It
was named after our Queen. And Williamsburg and Jamestown look nice.”

I
nodded, “They’re beautiful, but it’s nothing compared to this,” I waved my arm
at our surroundings, “I mean, you work at the Tower of London.”

The
lady smiled, “It is quite an honor to work here.
 
Jobs at the Tower are hard to come by and
once you’re here, you don’t leave.
 
But
nothing like the old days,” she winked at me, “Do you need a guidebook?”

“Yes,
I’d love one.
 
Thank you.”

She
slid a book across the desk towards me, “It’s our slow season, you should have full
run of the place today without many visitors.
 
So, enjoy your day, Ellie Regan.”

I
smiled at her use of my full name, “Let me ask you while I’m here.
 
Is there a place here or anywhere close by
that’s a museum or something dedicated to Queen Elizabeth?”

“The
current queen?” she asked, puzzled.

“No,
sorry.
 
Queen Elizabeth the 1
^st
,”
I answered sheepishly.

“Oh,”
she chewed her lip, “I don’t think there is a museum, but there are several
sites here that tell you a little about her.
 
She did spend a great deal of time here at the tower, some of it not so
good, mind you.”

“Okay.
 
Well, I just thought I would ask.
 
I’ll look at the guidebook and see what’s
there.
 
Are there any of her things
here?”
 
As soon as the words were out of
my mouth I regretted them.
 
I must sound
like an idiot.

“Her
things?” the woman replied, her thin brows raised in question, “Well, her
saddle and gloves are at Warwick Castle north of here and there are a few
things, books and letters and a baby gown at Sudeley Castle.”

Already
feeling ridiculous for asking such a question I started to back away,
“Okay.
 
Thanks so much for your help.”

She
held up a hand to stop me, “There is someone here who is an expert in all
things of that era.
 
He’s the head of the
historical documents department.
 
He
loves to talk to people about Elizabeth and anything regarding the Golden Age.”