Authors: Eliza Dean
We
stood silently, neither knowing what to say next.
I was thankful when his voice broke the
stillness, “Have you seen the Bell Tower?”
“No.
I haven’t made it that far yet.”
“Would
you like a private tour?” his hazel eyes flashed and seemed to plead with me
silently.
“How
could I refuse?” I answered in return.
Chapter
9
H
e pushed open the
door for me and followed me out into the sunlight, “Is this your first time in
England?”
“It
is.
I’m here with a friend.
She’s on business.
I came to keep her company,” I followed him
as he walked to the outer shell of the castle.
“So
your days are open to historical research on Elizabeth?”
Was he mocking me?
“I have a
very
detailed itinerary that a friend did before I left.”
“Ah,
may I glance at it?
I could offer some
pointers.”
Reaching
into my leather bag I pulled out a folded copy of the itinerary and handed it
to him.
I watched for his reaction as he
scanned the pages quickly.
“London,
Westminster, Hatfield, Hampton Court, Warwick, St. Mary’s Warwick,” the last
entry drew his attention more than the others.
He stopped and looked at me, “This is very heavy on Elizabeth and her
history.”
I
shrugged, trying to play it off, “I’m a fan, I guess you could say.”
He
handed it back to me, “That’s quite a list.
I hope you’re here for more than a few days.”
It
was a simple question but I detected a tinge of hope in his voice and it made
me smile, “We’re here for two weeks.”
I
swear I feel him sigh in relief, “Two weeks.
You should be able to accomplish a lot in two weeks.”
At that moment, it again struck me how
uniquely handsome he was.
His dark hair
was not short and was a bit shaggy and hung casually around his handsome strong
face.
His skin was bronzed, his
cheekbones chiseled like a smooth marble.
As I stood by him I breathed in the scent of his cologne which smelled
like a mixture of something fresh and outdoorsy mixed with leather.
I felt safe next to him, not at all aloof
like I did with most strangers.
I turned
away, embarrassed that I so boldly stared at him.
“The
tower, my lady?” he said with a grin and held his arm out for me.
I took it and laughed despite myself.
“So
you, Ronan Sutton, are an expert in all things Elizabeth?” his name rolling off
my tongue made me shiver as we walked arm in arm towards the enormous tower.
“I
am, I suppose.
I’ve always felt a
strange sort of connection with her and with that particular time.
The older I got I knew I wanted to do
something historical related so I could study her more.”
As
we passed Tower Green the same raven still sat on the plaque where I had stood
earlier.
I eyed him warily as he did the
same and as I did I almost tripped on uneven bricks in our path.
“Do
the ravens make you nervous?” Ronan asked me.
“No.
Well, not at first.
But earlier I was there, reading the names
and that same bird swooped down next to me.
He was so close I could feel his feathers on my cheek, and he landed
right on the plaque, inches away from me.”
“Strange,
they usually avoid everyone but their keeper,” Ronan remarked, “Such a solemn
place.
Her mother was killed there, at
that very spot.”
“I
read that,” my eyes were still fastened on the ominous bird that was watching
my every move, “Did she cry when she was brought here?”
Ronan
stopped and turned to look at me, “Anne?”
“Yes.
I just wondered how she must have felt, being
condemned to die by a man that she adored, leaving behind a daughter that she
would never know.”
Ronan
studied me carefully, “She died well, as they put it back then.
She didn’t cry and went bravely to the
scaffolds and asked that the people forgive her husband for what he was doing
to her.”
I
stood quietly processing the information as I looked at the site.
“You
know,” Ronan said, “I’ve worked here almost ten years and no one has ever asked
that question before.”
“Sorry,”
I answered sheepishly, “Something like that is probably common knowledge to
history buffs.
I honestly don’t know
enough about all this to have a deep conversation with someone who’s as
knowledgeable as you are.”
“Don’t
apologize.
It’s refreshing and …
fascinating,” he winked at me.
Ronan
gave me a tour of the Bell Tower and explained to me that when Elizabeth was very
young she was housed in the tower for a period of time.
He also spent the next several hours walking
with me throughout the castle, showing me all kinds of things that I was
positive were not in the guidebooks.
Later, we found ourselves back at the Visitors Center where Beatrice
beamed as he led me through the main door, “Come with me,” he said, “I’ve got
something to show you.”
“Ah,
you found her!” Beatrice smiled.
“I
did.
I’ve been showing her around the
old place,” Ronan shed his coat and I had to force myself to keep from staring
at his muscular form that had been hidden underneath.
“They’ll
be here in twenty minutes to take the photos,” Beatrice said as I followed
Ronan into his office.
“Thank
you Beatrice,” he replied before pulling out a chair for me, “Come, have a
seat.”
I sat and watched as he unlocked
a safe that was built into the wall.
I
put my bag on the floor and quickly took off my hat and jacket.
I worried about my appearance and if I had
hat hair and quickly ran my fingers through my long hair and fanned it out on
my shoulder.
I watched as he retrieved a
small box from the safe before turning back towards me.
When
he looked up he stopped, his mouth which had opened to speak now seemed to be
frozen.
He sucked in a quick breath,
“Your hair.”
I
blushed.
I was used to that reaction
when people saw my hair.
It was one of
my best attributes, no doubt.
But this
man’s reaction seemed different.
“It’s
probably a mess …”
He
seemed to regain his footing, “I’m sorry.
It’s beautiful.
I could see it
was red under the hat but I couldn’t …” he trailed off as he rounded the corner
of the desk and took the seat beside me, “I’ve got something to show you.
I’ve just retrieved it this morning.
It’s on loan from the former Prime Minister
in order for us to shoot some photos of it.”
I
must admit, I was intrigued.
It had to
be something important.
It was such a
small box that I couldn’t imagine what was in it.
I heard the main door open and Beatrice
greeted someone who had questions about a ceremony or something.
Ronan got up quickly and shut his office door
before returning to the chair beside me.
“I
feel like I’m about to hear some kind of big secret or something,” I smiled at
him and he grinned at me in return.
“Like
I said, this is only here for twenty-four hours.
Normally I would never let anyone know we had
such a thing, but with your interest in her, I thought you might want to see
it.”
I
gave him a puzzled look, “This was hers?”
He
smiled as he opened the box.
I peered
inside and could barely make out a petit gold ring embedded with tiny
rubies.
There was no single center stone
but a collection of diamonds that formed an unmistakable E.
A tiny pearl was also embedded there.
It was breathtakingly beautiful.
I gapped open mouthed at it as it lay in the
tiny box.
Ronan reached in for it and
held it up so that I could get a better look.
“This
was
hers,” I said and to my surprise
it was more of a statement, not a question.
“Yes,”
he whispered, “No one knew it existed for years.
It’s not for public display but is owned
privately.
I’m lucky to have it at all.”
My
heart was hammering in my chest.
I
couldn’t seem to tear my eyes away from it, “It opens.
Is there something still inside?”
Ronan
looked surprised, “How did you know?”
“What?”
“How
did you know it opened?”
I
was caught off guard.
How did I know?
I didn’t have an answer.
I just knew.
“It looks like it opens, that’s all.”
Ronan
opened the ring and my hand flew to my mouth to suppress a gasp, “They’re still
there after all these years?”
“The
paintings?
Yes,” he answered, holding it
up so that I could get a better look, “Ellie, do you know who this is?”
Ronan
pointed to the top painting but I was focused on the obvious painting at the
bottom, “That is Elizabeth,” I pointed to it before raising my finger to the
picture he referred to, “And that is her mother, Anne.”
I
was staring so intensely at the ring that I neglected to notice the look on his
face.
I could see him moving it towards
me with his right hand.
As if in slow
motion I watched as he slid it onto the ring finger on my right hand.
I flexed my shaking fingers and watched as it
slid effortlessly across my knuckle and into place.
Instantly I got a flash of the same moment
but my hands were ghostly white and my arms were encased in a brilliant gold
silk gown.
The hand raised in the
sunlight which gleamed off the newly made gold ring, the rubies casting red
shards of light about the room.
I
sucked in a quick breath, “Take it off, please take it off,” I said, almost
choking on the words.
Wordlessly
he slid the ring from my finger and dropped it into the box, “Ellie, are you
alright?”
I
fanned myself, suddenly feeling very faint.
Ronan
sprinted to a mini fridge in the corner of the room and retrieved a bottled
water, “Here, drink some water,” he opened the bottle and handed it to me.
I took it and downed a few sips before
closing my eyes and taking a few deep breaths.
I could feel him rubbing my arms, his warm fingers gliding smoothly
across my skin, “Are you okay?”
I
nodded, fearful of opening my eyes.
He
must think I’m crazy, “Better, I think.”
I was rapidly feeling more and more uncomfortable and claustrophobic.
Not necessarily from him but from my
surroundings.
“I’ve taken up enough of
your time, I’m sorry for this …” I pointed to the now closed box, “I’ll get out
of your hair.
I know you have that photo
shoot soon.”
I went to get up and felt
his hand at my elbow.
“Ellie,”
he gently pleaded, “Maybe you should sit for a few minutes.”
I
smiled at him, attempting to regain my balance, “I’m fine.
I skipped lunch, I’m sure that’s all it
is.”
I motioned to the box, “Thank you
for letting me see that.
I know it’s a
big deal.”
“You
are most welcome,” he reached for my bag on the floor, “Let me walk you out.”
“I’ve
taken up enough of your time,” I hesitated.
“There’s
time,” he slung my bag around his shoulder, “I insist.”
Ronan
led me from his office past Beatrice and the tourist that were trying to
decipher a map in the lobby.
We walked
past the guard at the entrance and then took a left towards the water.
“Where
are you staying?” he asked.
“The
Grange,” I pointed towards the direction I had taken this morning, “It’s that
way I think.”
“That’s
conveniently close by,” he chuckled.
We
walked silently, side by side while I took a few deep calming breaths.
As we approached the bridge that overlooked
the mysterious Traitors Gate I stopped and pointed, “What’s the deal with
that?”
“Traitors
Gate?
It was a way to smuggle prisoners
in or out of the castle,” he stopped and leaned casually against the rail of
the bridge, “It was how they smuggled her in the night she was brought to the
Tower.”
Of
course it was.
It would explain my
vision from this morning, “She came at night in a small boat, through here?”