[Hampton Court, England, 1534]
“Damn, the stench of this place!” Nicholas, Earl of Gresham, cursed as he rode through the gates of King Henry’s Palace at Hampton Court. Hooves, heads and entrails of deer and cattle in various stages of decay lay in fetid piles, and packs of royal dogs snarled over the reeking portions. Rugs fouled by the dogs and thrown haphazardly over posts and pillars exuded noxious fumes. Nicholas’s home lay in the North of England where the fragrance of heather and pine scented the air. He was unaccustomed to the squalor and filth that attended the court.
Two disincorporated essences floated above him, unseen and unheard.
“Damn! You smell that? Good thing my stomach’s back in the twenty-first century or I’d barf all over that dude’s head. Whoever he is.”
“So would I and I’m not even pregnant.”
In the courtyard of the palace, Nicholas dropped his reins and slid off the back of his black stallion, Thunder. “Here lad,” he hailed a young page. “Take my mount to the stables. See that a groomsman has him properly cooled and brushed before he’s given aught to drink.” He tossed the boy a shilling and strolled towards the great hall. Here he pressed through swarms of clamoring petitioners as he moved towards the Presence Chamber.
“Greetings, Lord Steward.” Nicholas stopped at the doorway and addressed the steward. “I’ve received a summons from His Majesty.”
The steward passed his eyes over the scroll and motioned him to a seat.
Knowing the king, Nicholas prepared for a lengthy wait. It had been years since he’d visited the Royal Chambers, and he scanned the furnishings with critical interest. Sparkling jewels and finely woven murals lined the walls. Nicholas shuddered at the sight of imported sculptures and fine brass stacked on piles of fouled rugs. The combination of elegance and filth was the hallmark of the Tudor Court.
“His Majesty will see you now, My Lord.” The Steward interrupted Nicholas’ inspection and led him into the Presence Chamber.
King Henry, resplendent in a crimson robe trimmed with gold ropes and flashing gems, nodded in response to Nicholas’s bow.
“Oh, my God! That’s Henry the Eighth!” Katherine reached over and tried to grab Carrie’s arm before she remembered they really didn’t have arms to grab.
“How do you know?”
“The ‘Your Majesty’ sort of gave it away.”
“Yeah, but there’ve been lots of ‘majesties’.”
“Hans Holbein painted this one. And the basic image is there, but old Hans must’ve been a brown-noser. The portrait sure looks a lot better than the real thing.”
“Yeah, glad he’s got the king thing going for him. He’d have a hard time finding a date otherwise. Got piggy eyes, don’t you think? Which fits because the inside of this place smells about as bad as the outside!”
“You grow ever more like your revered father, My Lord Gresham. It’s been a good many years since God’s messengers called him homeward, but his foul murder still plagues my soul. As do thoughts of the murdering Turks who killed him. Come. We’ll sit and talk as old friends do.”
A cold chill shot down Nicholas’s spine, but he took a seat facing the king.
“I’ve no use for the Turks,” the king continued. “They’re a bloodthirsty bunch of barbarians, and it’d be a fine Christian act to rout them from the kingdom they stole from you.”
The chill from Nicholas’s spine crept out into his veins. Born Moldavian, he was the rightful heir to Moldavia’s throne. Something he didn’t want. Years ago the gypsy King, Tarot, had rescued him and raised him as his own. Tarot had always warned Nicholas his duty lay with Moldavia, but until recently he’d all but forgotten. He was English now. He had no wish to claim a foreign throne.
“I’m afraid I’ve had no opportunity to look into the plight of my countrymen these past years, Your Majesty.”
King Henry nodded. “I’ve long cursed the fates that I’ve been unable to help restore your throne, but at last I’m happy to say there might be a way.”
“I’m grateful for Your Majesty’s concern.” Nicholas chose his words carefully. It wasn’t wise to anger a king, especially not one as volatile as Henry. “Truth to tell though, I’ve never felt much like a king, and my life in England has been happy and fulfilling.”
“That’s good to hear, My Lord Gresham.” The king’s tone held a mild rebuke. “Still, as I myself have often found, duties have a way of intruding on a man’s pleasure.”
“Oh, that’s rich!” Katherine snorted.
“Why?”
“Carrie! Don’t you know anything about Henry the Eighth?”
“Never had much impact on the way I buttered my bread, no.”
“He made a career out of ensuring his own pleasure! The damn hypocrite!”
“Most men don’t?”
“Don’t what?”
“Make a career out of ensuring their own pleasure?”
“Got a point there.”
Nicholas steeled himself to hear what the king had to say. He was unprepared for the king’s next words.
“I’m told you have a comely daughter.”
Nicholas’s face lit up “She’s a beauty, our Ursula. She has the grace and charm of her mother, but she gets her flaming tresses from my father. With her sapphire eyes and auburn hair she could almost pass for a pagan goddess.”
King Henry lifted his brows. Catching the danger in his response to the king’s inquiry, Nicholas hurriedly added. “Oh, there’s no mistaking the noble British blood that runs through her veins. I like to think her beauty is a compliment to the mingling of bloodlines.”
“I’d heard she pleased the eye.” The king nodded approval. “That’s why I know you’ll be glad I’ve arranged an excellent marriage.”
Nicholas’s mouth dropped. “But Your M-m-majesty – Lady Kathleen and I planned to have her grandmother, Lady Margaret, present her at court next spring.”
King Henry shook his head. “Lady Ursula’s royal birth requires consideration. You’ll find the match quite suitable. The husband I’ve chosen is Prince Frederick of Russia, a cousin to the tsar’s own betrothed.” The king’s voice and eyes hardened. “There are many advantages to this match, and since the tsar won’t rule without his guardian for another six years, Prince Frederick and Lady Ursula will remain in England for the duration.”
Nicholas forced a smile. Even in Gresham, Nicholas and Lady Kathleen were privy to court gossip. Only last year Prince Frederick’s affair with Lady Millicent was the talk of the court. The affair ended abruptly when Prince Frederick returned to Russia. King Henry appeased the lady’s angry father by betrothing her to a disfavored duke. Nicholas shuddered to think what sorrow that careless young man might bring his daughter.
The king however was well satisfied. “Frederick will arrive in early fall. It would be well for Lady Ursula to be presented to the court at once. You have my leave to depart and begin preparations.”
“As you wish, Your Majesty. I shall return to Gresham Manor at once, Your Majesty.” Nicholas bowed and left the Chamber.
The girls floated back out over his head.
“You get the idea this Lord Gresham dude’s not real happy with any of this?”
“Sure do. And Lady Ursula’s going to be a lot less happy than him.”
“How do you know that?”
“She’s the girl. She must be. The girl I saw in my first trip back. Crying her eyes out in the arms of a guy named Toby. A very good-looking guy but there’s no way he’s Prince Anything. Or even Sir Anything. He’s a commoner.”
“Oh. Shit.”
“Yep.”
* * *
Thunder crested a hill. The lush green meadows of Gresham manor spread out below. Stately birches bowed in the wind, their leaves glistening silver in the sunlight. Nicholas breathed the fragrance of new mown hay. He flicked the reins to give Thunder his head, and the black stallion, anxious for home and pasture, flew down the hill and across the meadow, following the gray granite wall that circled the manor and stretched from its southern boundary to the Northern cliffs and sea.
As they galloped onto the green pasture, Nicholas spotted Lady Ursula streaking towards them. Her auburn hair glinted like burnished copper in the sunlight. Moments later Thunder skidded to a stop and Nicholas gathered his daughter into his arms.
“Welcome, Papa.” Her ladyship hugged him tight. “I thought you’d never come home.”
“It’s been a difficult trip,” Nicholas brushed his daughter’s hair back from her forehead and kissed her cheek. “How’s your mother?”
Her eyes clouded. “The babe’s getting so big. She’s very tired, but she’ll be better now you’re home.”
Nicholas smiled. He hadn’t wanted his wife to risk this pregnancy, but she’d insisted, knowing it was her last chance at another child. “I’m anxious to see her. First though, you and I need some words. I have news from the king. Walk with me.” He handed Thunder’s reins to a groomsman and took Lady Ursula’s hand. “We’ll stop a few moments in the rose garden.”
On the side of the manor, Lady Kathleen’s roses bloomed in a garden. Blossoms of every hue and fragrance climbed the rock fence and clung to the curving arches of the gateway. Pots of blooms hung from trellises and spilled in perfumed splendor over the sides of containers.
Nicholas took a seat on a stone bench and patted the space beside him with his hand, inviting her to sit. He draped his arm over her shoulder and pulled her close.
“My business with the king is going to have a grave effect on your life.” He tightened his arm around her. “I know I’ve told you little about my family,” he continued. “I hoped to wait until you were older before we talked this way, but unfortunately the king has changed all that.”
“I’m not a child, Papa.” Her eyes flashed with indignation and Nicholas smiled and squeezed her hand.
“Please forgive a father’s wish to keep his daughter close as long as possible.”
“Oh, Papa.” She pressed her face against his chest. “Is it something terrible?”
“Or something wonderful. You will have to decide which for yourself. First let me tell you about my father. He was a member of the Moldavian Court. You’ve always known that. What you don’t know is that he was King of Moldavia. He and everyone in my family were murdered when the Turks invaded Moldavia.”
“Oh!” She covered her mouth with her hand.
“I had no wish to tell you this until you were older. King Henry’s father and my father were cousins, making you the king’s cousin as well. When my father realized Moldavia was about to be attacked, he sought help from his English cousin to smuggle me out of Moldavia and bring me to England.”
“How awful to be sent away from your family!”
“It was long ago, and I was a child. I barely remember my family. My foster father Tarot has always been enough family for me. Until I met your mother, of course.”
“The gypsy? I always wondered where you and he met, how you became such fast friends. Why he always seemed to be—your guardian.”
“Yes, Tarot the Gypsy. And yes, he’s always been my guardian. And yours, whether you’ve known of it or not. King Henry, our king’s father, enlisted his aid to smuggle me out of Moldavia in the hope no one would search for Moldavian royal blood in a gypsy caravan. That hope was fulfilled. He and King Henry feared for my safety and never told me of my birthright until I prepared to marry your mother. That’s when I first learned I was heir to the throne of Moldavia.”
“When I was a little girl, I used to pretend you were a king and one day we would live in a grand castle. But I never meant it.” Her voice broke and she swiped at her eyes. “You haven’t told me what King Henry wanted.”
Nicholas frowned. “Because you are a Moldavian Princess, King Henry has decided you must wed a prince. He has chosen Prince Frederick of Russia to be your husband. Your mother and I have been ordered to send you to your grandmother, Lady Margaret, to be presented at court.”
”Prince Frederick? The prince who disgraced Lady Millicent at court. Word of that even reached us here at Gresham Manor! How can King Henry expect me to wed such a rogue?”
“He’s the brother of Princess Anastasia. She is betrothed to Tsar Ivan and the king is anxious for an alliance. He sees this match as a way to bring Russia and England closer. It is my belief the king intends to challenge the Turks for the throne of Moldavia. And put me on it as his proxy king.”
“You can do nothing to stop this?”
Nicholas placed his arm around Lady Ursula’s shoulder. “My heart is heavy, knowing you must pay the price for my refuge. Because should the king restore Moldavia, I must tell you that I do not intend to accept the monarchy.”
“Will you have a choice?”
“Yes. There is one. I cannot rip your mother away from England and I am certain the king knows this. ‘Tis for sure he doesn’t understand it but know it he must. I will abdicate in your favor, which is basically abdicating in favor of your husband. This I believe to be the king’s goal and thus his choice for your husband. No fool is our King Henry.”
“But what if I don’t want to leave Gresham Manor?”
Nicholas tightened his arm around her shoulders. “We are bound to obey the king. To disobey would be treason. You are young. You will enjoy the adventure, whether you think so now or not, whereas it would kill your mother to take her from her birthplace.”
Lady Ursula bowed her head. Father and daughter embraced in silence.
Finally she lifted her chin and stiffened her shoulders. “Don’t be sad, Papa. If I had my choice, I’d wed someone kind and gentle, like our steward Toby. But that can’t be, so the king’s choice is no more burden than any other loveless match.”
Toby? The steward? Nicholas noted the color in her cheeks and wondered as to the direction of his daughter’s heart. He had not been vigilant. A princess of Moldavia could not marry a mere common steward, no matter whether she’d known of her royal blood or no. Perhaps King Henry’s plan was a wise one after all. It seemed sometimes the fates knew best.
“Don’t worry, Papa.” Lady Ursula noted her father’s frown. “I mean nothing untoward, only that in my heart I longed for a kind and gentle man who would share my life right here at Gresham Manor.”
Nicholas’s frown darkened. More reassurances seemed necessary. “I’ll wed Prince Frederick, and I’ll work hard to be a good and obedient wife.”
Nicolas sighed. “I wish I could make things different.” He drew Lady Ursula against his chest.
“We must make the best of what the fates deal us. ‘Tis what you’ve always said. ‘Tis what Tarot’s always said.” She rose and crossed to the stables.
Nicholas watched her walk away. Then he squared his shoulders and turned towards the manor. It was his duty to tell his wife of coming events, much as he disliked bearing news bound to upset her, especially with her so close to term.
Carrie sighed. “Well, that’s the original ‘it is what it is’. Poor kid. That sucks.”
“Big time.”
“Where’s she going?”
“Carrie! To Toby, of course! That’s the part I’ve already seen. Right now we’re further back in time than my first trip.”
“But we still don’t know exactly what’s the connection between all this and you. And Mother Shipton.”
“We’re going to. Time to have a talk with our resident seer. Don’t you think?”
“I think.”
* * *
“Okay, where the hell is she?” Carrie glanced around the room. The only Mother Shipton in sight was the sketch of an old woman on the half-finished portrait.
“In the portrait again, maybe?” Katherine picked up her palate and brush, ready to call Mother Shipton back.
A loud blast of rock-n-roll roared into the room, followed by a high-pitched shriek.
“What the—” The girls raced down the hall, following the sound. Mother Shipton stood in front of the television, hands clasped over her ears.
Katherine grabbed the remote and clicked the TV off.
Mother Shipton turned to face them. “What—what manner of sorcery is that?” She pointed at the screen. “And that noise! Surely ‘tis from Lucifer himself.”
“Lots of folks say that about hard rock, and that’s a fact, but more about Ozzie Ozborne than Metallica.” Carrie laughed. “Welcome to our century, Mother Shipton. That’s a television. Tuned to MTV.”
“‘Tis a devil box!”
“Don’t throw stones, Mother. Your century smells like hell. Guess we all got our little sack of rocks to tote around.”
Katherine held up both hands. “Hey, let’s not get into century bashing. You two sit down. I’ll get us something to drink. And then we’re going to have a talk. That means you’re going to talk, Mother Shipton—oh hell, what do we call you?” Katherine headed into the kitchen.
“Grandmother would be quite seemly. I’ve been around a few centuries; your language patterns are not completely unfamiliar.”
“Do I detect a trace of sarcasm there? Okay, Grandmother. If you two will call a truce and sit down, I’ll get some things from the kitchen and we’ll have our chat.”
“Bring something carbonated. My stomach’s still lurching from King Henry’s Court! And some Ritz crackers and peanut butter!”
“Some international model you are. Don’t you want caviar and canapés?”
“I’m pregnant, remember? I want soft drinks and salt! And besides—you can take the girl out of the country but—”
Katherine laughed. “Nobody’s ever going to take the country out of you, girl! Part of the charm that got you to the top. Back in a minute.”
* * *
Katherine set a tray on the coffee table and handed a glass of tea to Mother Shipton. “You’d better stick to this, Grandmother. That soft drink’s going to send bubbles up your nose and make you choke.”
Mother Shipton clinked the ice back and forth against the glass. “‘Tis too warm for ice. More sorcery?”
“I guess you haven’t spent too much time hanging around this century.” Katherine chuckled. “So have a little more sympathy for how we felt when we found ourselves floating over Henry the Eighth’s stinky smelly court.”
Mother Shipton ducked her head but not before Katherine spotted a smile flitting across her wrinkled face.
“For sure he smells. He’s only been dead a mere 500 years.”
“Okay. Very funny. Now, why? What’s he got to do with me? And why am I watching Lady Ursula? I get that she’s my great, great, great something or other, but what does that mean to me? And the part we saw—she’s a teenage girl getting her world knocked off its center! I know that’s how it was back then. You married who you were told when you were told but seeing it—really makes me appreciate being a modern woman, I can tell you that. And she’s a baby! How old is she, anyway? Fourteen?”
“She’s a full-grown woman!”
“Yeah, right. In your world. Sure as heck not in mine. But the point is what has that got to do with me and my life?”
“She’s your link. The reason ye be. But only because you helped her.”
“Excuse me?”
“Things are coming to Lady Ursula. Some she wants, some she don’t. Her blood survives. But only because you helped her. There’s a crossroad up ahead. Or back in the past. Depends on how ye think on it. If she takes one, well, then her fate—and yours—is sealed. If she takes another, her fate—and yours—is changed. And it’s here I be to make certain sure that happens.”
“You know you’re not making any sense at all, right?”
Mother Shipton shrugged. “And ye’ve found in your young life that all things make sense, have ye?”
“She’s gotcha there, hon.” Carrie laughed.
“And what makes no sense to others, they seek to destroy,” Mother Shipton continued. “‘Always have, always will. ‘Tis the way of the world. And it almost destroyed—us. All of us. Whether we be connected by blood or only by spirit. The sisters of prophecy. Those of us with the gift.”
Mother Shipton waved her hand toward the television screen. It flickered and came to life.
On the screen guards in medieval garb rode behind a horse drawn cart. Inside a woman bound in chains kept her head down and her eyes averted from the crowds lining the streets of Knaresborough. Lady Ursula. Older now, with signs of strain marking her face, but it was her ladyship. Lady Ursula of the tower dream.
The sounds of laughing, jeering voices followed the cart and the girls knew, just as Lady Ursula herself did, that many of the faces in the crowd belonged to those her ladyship considered friends.
The peasants, electrified by the spectacle of nobility paraded through the streets like a common prisoner, worked themselves into a frenzy, calling out as she passed:
“Witch, witch, witch! Burn the bloody witch!”
“Oh. My. God.” Katherine’s face turned white. “Bloody Mary’s witch hunts. That’s why she was in the tower. Not just any tower. The Tower of London.”
“Aye.”
“How do you know that?” Carrie asked.
“I had a thing for English history as a teenager.”
“Okay, so you were a nerd. I get it. What about this Bloody Mary?”
“King Henry’s heir was Edward. A very sickly, short-lived king never married. He was succeeded by his sister, Henry’s daughter. Mary. She was a fanatical Catholic. Known to history as Bloody Mary. Because she burned pretty much anybody she didn’t like the looks of—Protestants, supposed witches, accused traitors. Whoever displeased her fancy.”
“And she didn’t like Lady Ursula, I’m assuming’.”
“Obviously not. Okay, Grandmother.” Katherine turned to face Mother Shipton, who had just smothered a large yawn.
“You want us to stop this, don’t you?”
“Welllll—mayhap I do and mayhap I don’t. Mayhap this is what will happen if Lady Ursula picks the wrong path when she gets to the crossroad. And will never happen if she picks the right one.”
“So where the hell is that damn crossroad? And how will we know it when we get there?”
“Ye’ll know it. The power will tell you. The power was born in you, girl! Born in both of you. Because the Sisters of Prophecy aren’t always connected by blood. They’re connected by power, shared and used wisely. “
“Some damn, Grandmother.” Carrie slammed her glass down on the table. “Pep talks like that, you could be an NFL coach. So send us back already. We got a crossroad to find!”
Mother Shipton laughed. “An adventuress, this one. Ready, my girls?”
“Ready.”
Mother Shipton waved her hand. “Then let go of the ties of the present. And journey back—to the past.”
* * *
“Okay, where the hell are we now?”
“Someplace dark.”
“No kidding?”
“And cold.”
Katherine and Carrie hovered together, getting their bearings, adjusting to night vision. A bedchamber. A massive four poster bed draped with curtains of some heavy material. They peered between the cracks of the bed draping.
“It’s her. Lady Ursula.”
“Thank God. Don’t think I coulda taken Henry Ocho again. For sure not in his nightgown. Or even worse, not in his nightgown.”
A scream shattered the silence. Lady Ursula bolted upright and threw the covers back. She raced out the door.
A young woman urged an older woman in front of her down the hall.
“Hannah? Is it Mother?”
“Lady Ursula! Yes, ‘tis time. I’ve just summoned the midwife. Matilda, will you hurry, for the love of God?”
Lady Ursula followed them into her mother’s room. Lady Kathleen lay on the bed and writhed in pain.
“Mother!”
The old woman bent over the bed and lifted the covers, her hands working out of sight. When she stepped back, she motioned Lady Ursula and Hannah to her side.
“‘Tis not well, I fear. ‘Tis the Lord’s own foolishness, bearing a babe at her age.”
“‘Tis not your place to judge my mother, Matilda! She’s buried two babes and lost three more since she bore me. She well knew the time was near when there could be no more.”
“Aye, that’s all the truth, Lady. And it’s much afeard I am that this will truly be the end.”
“Where’s father?” Lady Ursula asked Hannah.
“He’s sleeping in another room.”
“Why haven’t you called him?”
“Her Ladyship asked me to leave him sleep. Besides, there’s little he could do except worry.”
“He didn’t hear that scream. My God, he could just be here holding her hand!”
“This is a man’s world, Carrie, not our world. Women didn’t think of childbirth the way we do. They didn’t even want the men there.”
Through the night the pains continued and still the child would not be born. The midwife bathed Lady Kathleen with wet cloths and rubbed her stomach through the contractions.
“That woman Matilda’s worse than useless, Kat! She needs a doctor!”
“She needs a C-section and she needed nine months of good prenatal care before that, but honey, none of that was really available back then. We’re not in our own time, Carrie.”
“Can’t we do something?”
“Like what? We’re not even physically here.”
After a particularly long and agonizing contraction, the midwife drew Lady Ursula aside.
“I know nothing else to do. That babe has no wish to be born. Her Ladyship’s strength is almost gone. There’ll be a bad end to this I’m much afraid, and like as not, it’s me who’ll be held to blame.”
Lady Ursula blinked back tears and turned to Hannah. “Please, go call my father.”
She dropped to her knees beside her mother. “I’ve sent for Father,” she whispered in Lady Kathleen’s ear. “He’ll be here soon.”
Lady Kathleen opened her eyes and reached for her daughter’s hand. The hours of pain had drained her strength and she could barely squeeze Lady Ursula’s fingers.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she whispered. “Shouldn’t have watched this. Selfish of me not to send you out.”
“Mother don’t say that! And ‘tis well you know I wouldn’t have gone.”
“Stubborn girl,” Lady Kathleen whispered. She squeezed her daughter’s fingers again.
Nicholas rushed into the room. His hair was sleep-tousled, his eyes wide with fear. He grasped his wife’s hand and pressed it to his lips. Kathleen opened her eyes and a ghostly smile flickered across her face.
“I’m sorry, my love,” she whispered. “Sorry I could never give you your son.”
A half-sob escaped Nicholas’s lips. “All I ever wanted was you, my love.”
“Oh, shit! I’m going to cry! Or I would if I was really here and could.”
“Should we go back? This can’t be good for you to watch—”
“We’d feel like we were deserting! And this is so not happening to me! My baby’s goin’ to just jump right out!”
“Yes, it will. With you as its mother, it’ll probably walk out and twirl on the runway.”
Lady Kathleen’s breathing turned slow and shallow. Nicholas’s lips moved in prayer, and still the ordeal continued. Her temperature rose, her body turned hot to the touch. Lady Ursula bathed her mother in cold cloths but any respite they offered was short-lived.
Just before dawn Lady Kathleen raised her hand and pulled Nicholas’s head to her breast. “I love you.” And she breathed no more.
Lady Ursula fell across the bed and sobbed. Nicholas lay with his head on his wife’s breast, adding his tears to the sweat-soaked linens.
Finally Lady Ursula pulled herself up and spoke. “Hannah, you must send for the vicar.”
* * *
Time seemed to fast forward. Katherine and Carrie hovered above a small crowd. Lady Kathleen’s funeral.
They buried Her Ladyship in the rose garden. When the other mourners left, Nicholas pulled his daughter over to a bench among the roses. “Sit with me, my child. We must talk.” He focused his eyes on Lady Ursula’s face. “I’m so sorry. Your mother was my life. Now she’s gone. And you, my child—you must also leave me.”
“I’m not going to leave you,” She shook her head and set her chin. “King Henry will just have to understand. After such a loss, you need me here.”
Nicholas gripped her hands. “You must not even think such. The king has decreed. To lose my darling Kathleen is bad enough, but to defy the king. You cannot. It would mean your death. You cannot ask me to stand by and watch. You will leave tomorrow for Hampton Court.”
Lady Ursula sobbed and swiped at her eyes. “I only want to please you, Father. If it is your wish that I wed Prince Frederick, then wed him I shall.”
“My poor child,” Nicholas pulled her into his arms and rocked her like a baby. “All this is so unfair to you. And I’ve thought of nothing but my own grief. Please forgive me.”
For long moments father and daughter clung together.
“She’ll like it here,” Lady Ursula said finally. “Surrounded by her roses.”
Carrie flounced passed the stone bench and attempted to stomp her foot.
“I don’t like this century. At all.”
“I’m not very fond of it either.”
“Where’s she going now?”
“Where do you think? Her mother’s dead, her father’s walking around like a zombie, and they’re getting ready to ship her off to this Prince Frederick, wherever the hell he is. She’s going to the man she loves.”
* * *
Lady Ursula hadn’t seen much of Toby. If she was to leave tomorrow, this was her last chance. And he was going to promise her he’d look after her father. Besides, she’d loved him since he’d taught her to ride. Since she’d been a little girl and he little more than a lad himself. Before she left, she needed to tell him that, make sure he knew. Even if there wasn’t a thing to be done about it.
She found him in the birthing barn, rubbing salve into a mare’s distended belly.
“Toby,” she whispered, stepping up beside him. “It’s almost time for me to leave and I would speak with you.”
“Yes, Milady.” He dropped the salve and stood to face her. “I wanted to offer my respects for your mother, but I didn’t want to intrude.”
“Thank you. I know you cared for her, and I’m sure you grieve her loss. But I’m worried about my father. He insists I honor the king’s marriage arrangement, and that means he’ll be all alone here. I leave tomorrow.” Tears sprang up in Lady Ursula’s eyes, and Toby touched her arm.
“Don’t cry, Milady. I’ll be here for your papa as long as he has use of my services.”
“Thank you.” She placed her hand over his. “I want your promise that if anything happens to him, you’ll come for me at Fairhaven.”
“Of course I promise, but nothing’s going to happen. I’ll see to that.”
“And there’s something else I would say to you while I’m still here to say such.” A deep flush covered Toby’s suntanned face. “Oh Toby,” she whispered. “Please don’t treat me like a stranger. I can’t bear to go away without at least telling you what’s in my heart.”
His voice choked with grief. “Milady, as much as I’m yearning to hear what’s in your heart, much as I hope it’s the same as in mine, I’m begging you not to say further. I’m a plain man, and the trust your father has given me here at the manor is more than I’d ever hoped. Master Nicholas has been uncommon kind to me. There’s few Englishmen that’d give even a lowly job to a Scotsman, but your father raised me up and trained me as a proper Steward. He’s always treated me with kindness and respect, and I’d never betray that trust.”
“But Toby, you’ve earned his respect. You’ve worked hard for us from the first day you came here.”
“Yes Milady but speaking to his daughter in a way I’ve no right to would be just that kind of betrayal. Fact is, I’ve grieved over what I’ve already said to you, and I’m hoping you forgive me. Seeing you crying that day in the barn—I said things I shouldn’t.”
Tears trickled down Lady Ursula’s cheeks. “Please Toby, never say you’re sorry. I know you’d never betray father. Maybe it’s wrong for me to want to tell you my feelings, but I can’t bear to go away without a word. If only my life were different! If only I were just a simple farm girl, I’d make a set at you t’would shock your senses.”
Toby smiled despite himself. “I’m not much for words. ‘Tis the best I can do to tell you how it was the first day I laid eyes on you. So beautiful, ‘twas as if the angels themselves had fixed up one of their own and set her down before me. I was lost from the very moment I laid eyes on you, I swear I was, and if’n you were that simple farm girl, I’d take you for my wife and that’d be the end of it.”
“Why Toby, that’s beautifully spoken. I know you don’t want me to say this, but it’s the truth and I need you to know.” Ursula moved in front of him and placed her hands on his shoulders.
She reached her hand behind his neck and gently pulled him forward. Mesmerized, Toby locked eyes with hers and surrendered.
“I love you, Toby Shipton. I’ve loved you from the day you lifted me up and set me down on Gypsy’s back.”
Toby opened his mouth to object, but Ursula placed her fingers on his lips.
“Shhh. Don’t stop me now. I need you to know. I may never have another chance to tell you. My course is set by the king, and I am powerless to stop what will come. But believe this, my love. My heart belongs to you now and ever will.”
With that she raised her lips to his and drawn by a magnet far more powerful than he could resist Toby’s lips came down on hers and they sealed their love in the kind of kiss that endures through the ages.
Finally Ursula drew away. “I’ll never forget you, Toby.”
Carrie stamped her foot and grabbed through Katherine’s ethereal arm.
“Okay, this really sucks!”
“Big-time.”
“Isn’t there anything we can do?”
Tears glistened on Katherine’s eyes. “I don’t see what. And I feel so helpless. I can’t believe Ursula is my, I don’t know, tenth great grandmother and I must sit here and listen to her lose the man she loves. I hate this century.”
“Do you think this is what Mother Shipton wants you to fix?”
“I don’t know. She keeps saying I’ll know what I’m supposed to do, but I don’t, I don’t know anything.”
“It’s okay. Don’t cry.” Carrie soothed her friend. “Look, she’s going back to the manor. We need to go with her and see what happens next.”