Read Waking Elizabeth Online

Authors: Eliza Dean

Waking Elizabeth (20 page)

BOOK: Waking Elizabeth
2.95Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

“You
grew up here?” I asked in disbelief.

“I
did.
 
Within those very walls,” Ronan
seemed to be enjoying my shock.

“You
said I would have my own room, you should have said my own wing,” I rolled my
eyes, playfully hitting him on the shoulder.

Allister
pulled up to the expansive double wood door.
 
Ronan opened the car door and helped me out.
 
“I can get our bags from here, Allister.
 
Thank you for picking us up.”

“Of
course,” Allister nodded.
 
“Your parents
are due in tomorrow.
 
I’ll pick them up
at the station at noon.”

Ronan
nodded, “Thank you.”

I
looked at Ronan, my eyebrow raised, “Your parents aren’t here?”

“No.
 
I came in a day early and didn’t give them
enough notice.
 
They’ve gone to visit my
Aunt in Bath.
 
They’ll be back
tomorrow.”
 
Ronan threw my bag over his
shoulder and rolled his suitcase up the few stairs to the front door.
 
“They offered to come back early when I told
them I was coming in today … and bringing a guest.
 
But I told them to keep to their schedule,
that I would scrounge up something for us to eat and we would see them
tomorrow.”

 

Chapter
21

 

I
followed him as he
pushed open the huge door and walked inside the expansive foyer, “Do they mind
that you brought a guest?”

“Mind?
 
No … Intrigued … yes,” Ronan set our bags
down on the floor, “I’ve never brought anyone here.
 
Ever.”
 
He turned to face me, reaching out and looping his fingers in the belt
loop of my jeans and pulling me close, “Our rooms are 2 stories up.
 
I’ll take you up there if you want to freshen
up and see your room, or we can do that later?
 
How about I show you around down here first, maybe take a walk outside?”

Ecstatically
happy to be with him, I nodded, “I would love a tour.”

Ronan
took me by the hand and eagerly walked me around his palatial family
estate.
 
It was very similar to some of
the places we had already seen, minus the ropes and signs telling us not to
enter and don’t take any pictures.
 
There
were eight rooms alone on the main floor including several sitting rooms, a
kitchen, dining room, and a game room.
 
The walls, fireplaces, floors and art were very vintage and historical
but the amenities were all modern.
 
It
was the perfect balance of the two mingled together in one fabulous house.
 
I was astounded that a house this enormous
and elegant could still feel homey and relaxing.
 

“It’s
unbelievable Ronan,” I looked up at the 20 foot ceilings in amazement, “And
even more unreal that people live here.”

He
laughed, “I grew up here, so I guess I’m used to it.”

“I’m
not sure how,” I shook my head and narrowed my eyes in his direction, “Farm
house, huh?”

“Come
on, I’ll show you around the grounds,” he took my hand and led me through a
side door and towards the barn where there were several horses grazing
nearby.
 
Allister was there again,
working in a rather elaborate tack room.
 
He waived at us shyly and continued with his work.
 

“What
do your parents do?” I asked him, reaching out to rub the ears of a horse that
stood close to the fence.

“My
mother is an art dealer, my father is a professor,” Ronan answered, gently
scratching the nose of the mare.

“Ah,
now I understand all the beautiful paintings and statues in there,” I squinted
against the sun, “And what does your father teach?”

He
grinned at me before responding, “History.”

I
laughed, “It runs in the family!”

“It
does.
 
I was very young when my mother
came across a replica of the Armada Portrait of Elizabeth.
 
She brought it home with her one night and I
was awestruck.
 
I was hooked, since that
very moment.”

I
looked around the quiet grounds of the estate where the only noise was the
occasional sounds of the animals in the distant fields.
 
You couldn’t even hear the cars from
highway.
 
“This is so very different than
London.”

“It
is.
 
I enjoy London and my job, but it is
nice to come out here and unwind.”

I
climbed on the fence that overlooks the field of sheep, “I’m not sure I would
ever leave this place.”

He
smiled, “It is … tempting.”
 
Ronan
studied me silently as I took in my surroundings, “Hungry?
 
I’m sure we can find something in the
kitchen,” Ronan asked.

I
hopped down from the fence and brushed off my jeans, “Sure.”

We
walked back toward the main house, waiving to Allister in the barn as we went
by.

“Does
he work here full time?” I asked.

“He
does.
 
He lives here as well.
 
There are apartments over the barn.
 
We also have a full time housekeeper named
Penelope.
 
She cooks and takes care of
the house.
 
She lives here, in the main
house but my parents gave her the weekend off since they were with my
Aunt.
 
Allister takes care of everything
when she’s gone.”
 

Ronan
pushed open the door for me and I went in, wiping my shoes on the mat by the
door.
 
I looked up and saw a large
painting in the hall that I hadn’t noticed before, “Is this your parents?” I
asked, but already knew the answer because Ronan bore a striking resemblance to
the distinguished man in the portrait.
 
Same eyes, same jaw line and yet when I looked over at his mother, he
had elements of her too.

“Yes,”
he nodded, “And this,” he pointed to another portrait that hung close by, “is
my sister, Eloise.”

He
had never mentioned a sister, and I had never thought to ask.
 
“Eloise,” I said her name, “Where does she
live?”

“Scotland,
with her husband and children.
 
She’s 4
years older than me.”

Again
I noticed how Ronan resembled his sister.
 
Each had dark hair and the same hazel eyes.
 
She was beautiful and looked to be in her
early twenties in the portrait.
 
I turned
to him, “I’m learning all kinds of things about you today.”

“Well,
unless Penelope left us some dinner, you’ll soon discover that I’m a horrible
cook,” he took my hand and led me towards the enormous modern kitchen at the
back of the house.
 
We walked in and I
shook my head in disbelief.

“You
know, my entire apartment would probably fit in here,” I laughed.

“So
would mine,” he answered, pulling open the hidden refrigerator door that
blended in with the dark oak cabinets on the wall.
 
Ronan peered inside, “How about a
sandwich?
 
We’ve got some ham and roast
beef.”

“Sounds
perfect.”

 

We
made our sandwiches and ate them while sitting on the kitchen countertops like
we were in high school.
 
The formal
dining room seemed like a waste to use for such an occasion.
 

“There
are no restaurants around here for 30 minutes or so.
 
I can see what we have to cook here for
dinner tonight.
 
Penelope always keeps
the kitchen stocked, but like I mentioned before, I’m not a cook,” Ronan
shrugged shyly.

“Well,
I am.
 
So, if you show me where
everything is, I’m sure I can whip up something.
 
That is, as long as your mother doesn’t mind
me cooking in her kitchen.”

He
laughed, “I think you’ll be fine.
 
Penelope would chase me out of here with a broom if she caught me trying
to cook in here.
 
I would destroy
everything by the time I was done.”

After
we finished our lunch, Ronan helped me down from my perch on the counter, “How
about a ride?”

“Where?
 
You said there wasn’t anything around for
miles.”

He
smiled, “Not that kind of ride.”
 
He led
me again through the house and outside towards the stables.

“A
horseback ride?” I paused and put my hands on my hips, “I haven’t ridden in
years.”

“You
don’t forget how to ride,” he chuckled, pulling me along with him, “I’ll put
you on a slow horse.”

I
sat in an old chair in the barn and watched Ronan as he expertly saddled our
horses.
 
He was in his element, as he
slung the heavy saddle across the horse’s back and tightened the straps.
 
He motioned for me to come towards him so I
did and he helped me into the saddle.
 
With his fingers gently holding my ankle he slid them into the stirrup,
“A little long, I’ll raise them,” he said, before adjusting them on each side.
 
“Comfortable?” he asked, looking up at me,
the sun glistening off his olive skin.

“Perfect.”

He
patted my leg before slipping the reins over the horse’s head and handing them
to me.
 
I nervously took them, hoping the
animal didn’t take off out of the barn, and watched as he mounted his own horse
which was quite a bit larger than mine.

“He
knows where to go, and he’ll follow me.
 
Don’t pull too hard unless you want him to stop, just give him the reins
and leisurely let him walk,” Ronan said, leaning down to stroke his horse’s
neck.

I
followed him from the barn and into a pasture with the sun setting behind us in
the west.
 

“How
much land do your parents own?” I asked him, surveying nothing but green fields
in the distance.

“1000
acres, more or less,” he said, pointing, “The closest house is that way and
there is an old abandoned abbey just over that hill.”

“Abandoned?”

“Yes.
 
It’s from the 13
th
century.
 
I’ll take you over there to see it,” he
turned his horse in that direction and luckily for me, mine followed.

“13
th
century,” I shook my head, “We have nothing like that in the US.
 
I couldn’t even tell you what our oldest
building is.”

“Not
counting the Pueblo buildings in New Mexico, your oldest building is the
Fairbanks House in Massachusetts.
 
It was
built in 1637, if I’m not mistaken,” Ronan said, running his fingers through
chestnut mane of his horse.

I
closed my eyes and smiled, “Of course you would know that.”

He
didn’t bother to answer but I could see the corners of his mouth lifting
playfully.
 
I followed him up the hill
and towards the stone abbey in the distance.
 
It appeared to be in ruins with the doors and windows missing.
 

“I
played here when I was a boy,” he mused.

“You
were lucky.
 
It’s a great playhouse.
 
I played with empty washing machine boxes in
the back yard,” I grinned as the horses’ slowed and stopped in front of the
main entrance and what was left of the stone steeple.
 

Ronan
dismounted and walked casually to my horse.
 
I dropped the reins and threw my right leg over the saddle to
dismount.
 
Ronan’s arms reached towards
me, grasping me by my waist and gently easing me to the ground.
 
Suddenly everything went black and then
immediately gloriously white.
 
I could
see people all around me, some in armor, and some on horses.
 
I was weighted down with heavy armor myself, my
red hair whipped around me in the wind.
 
My horse pranced under me nervously, his gray mane under my gloved
fingers.
 
I looked up and saw
him
, smiling at me in encouragement,
telling me I had done well.
 
He reached
for me, easily lifting me from the horse and setting me on the ground before
him.
 

“Ellie?”

My
eyes snapped open and I reached out for Ronan for balance, “I’m fine.
 
I’m fine.”

“What
did you see?” he reached for my face, a concerned look on his.
 

“I
don’t know.
 
I was outside, on a cliff, maybe.
 
There were people everywhere, soldiers … in
armor.
 
I was on a gray or white
horse.
 
I was in armor.
 
It was windy, and … he was there.
 
Smiling at me.
 
He said that I had done well.”

Ronan’s
eyes lit up as he looked at me, “Tilbury.
 
She was addressing her troops before the Spanish Armada invasion.”
 

“Why
was she in armor?”

“Robert
convinced her to speak to the troops as if she were one of them.
 
She rallied them before battle and thus the
most famous naval military achievement in England’s history was won,” he smiled
at me, his eyes on fire with wonder, “Was he there?
 
You saw him?”

I
nodded, “Yes.”

“You
know it was him?”

“I
would recognize him anywhere.
 
I can see
him as she did.
 
She worshiped him.
 
I can feel it when she looks at him.”

Ronan
leaned forward and kissed me on the forehead, “Amazing.
 
Tilbury,” he whispered.

I
shook my head, “Did it happen here?
 
Where is Tilbury?”

“No,
it’s near London,” Ronan answered, “Why?”

I
shook my head, confused, “Not that any of this is normal, but typically I have
these when I’m near something that causes me … or her to remember,” I looked
around me at the empty field, “Hours from where it happened and nothing here
but this,” I motioned to the ruins of the abbey, “I don’t know what would have
brought it on.”

BOOK: Waking Elizabeth
2.95Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

One Man's Love by Karen Ranney
A Wild Swan by Michael Cunningham
Escape the Night by Eberhart, Mignon G.
The Detonators by Donald Hamilton
Prank Wars by Fowers, Stephanie
A Suitable Boy by Vikram Seth