Ever Crave the Rose (The Elizabethan Time Travel Series Book 3)

by Morgan O'Neill

  He nodded. “I will await word of the date and clear my schedule accordingly. Might I ask a favor? May I bring Anne and Rose? A few days in Essex might be wonderful for them.”

  Elizabeth pursed her lips with a hint of impatience, but then smiled. “Thou misunderstood. Thou shalt join my party at Wanstead and travel the entire summer on progress...”

  What? Brandon’s mind reeled as he struggled to absorb this. Jesus, how many weeks would he be gone?

  “…and thou mayest send for any in thy household thou deemeth necessary to help both thee and thy wife and child, and I will see to it the costs are covered by the Crown. I wouldst not inconvenience your family or jeopardize my babe for anything in the world. And now, I have one more surprise before we end.”

  With that, Elizabeth nodded and smiled as though she’d just bestowed a wonderful gift, then abruptly turned and rejoined the party.

  Brandon watched her go, his hopes for a peaceful homecoming dissolved into dust. He rejoined Anne, put an arm around her waist, and gently pulled her close. She looked up at him with such love in her eyes, it nearly took his breath away. He smiled back. Perhaps it’s not so bad. We can get through this. With her by my side, I can get through anything. Another thought lifted his spirits even more. If we’re all on progress, Anne and Rose will be doubly safe from Norfolk.

  “Mesdames et messieurs,” Elizabeth called out, “I have made arrangements for a very special event. Please follow me into the next room and take a seat.”

  The queen led the procession into an adjoining room, where there was a cradle surrounded by a circle of chairs. Candles flanked the walls, and the windows were shrouded to close out any natural light. The candles had been burning for some time, and the heat was stifling. Alice laid Rose, who slept peacefully now, into the cradle and stepped back to stand behind Anne. Everyone took a seat.

  “What is this about?” Anne whispered, brows furrowed.

  Brandon lifted his shoulders. “I’ve no idea.”

  “But then, what were you two talking about?”

  He looked at her steadily for a moment, knowing she was filled with curiosity, but this was not the time to explain. He quietly replied, “Nothing to worry about. We’ll talk later.”

  “Okay,” Anne said, “but I’m dying of curiosity.” She winked at him, then turned her attention to the queen, who stood and held out her arms.

  “As you know,” Elizabeth intoned, “I cherish learning and knowledge above all things, and for that reason I have chosen to bestow yet another gift, one of knowledge, of foreknowledge, upon this child and her parents. Many of you know him already, but for those who do not, I have asked my personal astrologer, Dr. Dee, to give a reading for baby Catherine Rose.”

  Dee? Brandon narrowed his eyes, trying to recall where he’d heard that name before. It resonated in his mind, from somewhere deep in his past…something… Was it during the war?

  “Oh, I saw him in the choir before the ceremony started.”

  Anne was talking. Huh? Brandon glanced at her, then followed her line of sight. A tall man in a dark, sweeping robe, goatee, and skull cap entered the room. He looked up and their eyes met. He’d seen those steely-gray eyes before…before…

  Tirratarratorratarratirratarratum.

  Strange chanting suddenly filled his mind. Where had he heard it—?

  A memory struck him cold. 1945. Hatfield House. That bloody mirror.

  Tirratarratorratarratirratarratum...

  His world grew fuzzy, unfocused. There was something deeply wrong. He knew he needed to protect Rose from this man and his ceremony, but he found himself frozen, his limbs refusing to work.

  No, don’t touch my daughter, no!

  And then, with voices of concern ringing in his ears, Brandon’s world grew dim and he heard himself yell, “Get away from her!”

  With a supreme effort, he gritted his teeth, launched himself to his feet, and rushed toward Rose.

  * * *

  What just happened?

  Stunned by Jonathan’s behavior, Anne didn’t know whether to follow him as he left with Rose or try to heal the upset in the room. Glancing back and forth, she chose to stay. She would have forever with her husband, but from the look of anger on Elizabeth’s face, she felt she had only a few precious moments to calm the queen and preserve their friendship.

  Anne hurried to Elizabeth and dropped to her knees, reminding herself to speak as an Elizabethan—there was no room for error!

  “Majesty, I am so sorry for my husband’s outburst. He was taken by surprise and lost sight of the graciousness of thy many gifts so generously bestowed upon us. Please, ma’am, forgive him.”

  Silence. Anne could hear someone going after Jonathan and assumed it was Henry. She could also feel the venomous stare of the insulted Dr. Dee. It made her feel like bugs were crawling all over her skin.

  Who was he? And why did Jon react like that?

  Elizabeth did not acknowledge her apology. Instead, she rose without a word and left her there, groveling to empty space. Anne could hear Cath and Lettice speaking to the enraged queen, trying to reason with her, but she sensed Elizabeth’s anger was only just beginning. Anne had to come up with a believable story that would explain Jon’s strange behavior—and she had to do it now!

  She rose and took a step toward the queen, then changed her mind and turned to face Dr. Dee. “Sir,” she began, then paused. Taking his hand, she looked directly into his eyes. What am I going to say? I don’t know, I don’t know! “Sir, my husband, he, uh, when he was a child he lost a brother to a devious man who called himself a physician, and I think… I believe his name began with the letter D, so they called him Dr. D as a sort of nickname. When he heard, when he saw, oh, I think he must have remembered that horrible time in his life. Please, forgive his behavior. It was not meant as an insult, but only a remembrance of the tragic loss of his brother.”

  Dee regarded her silently, and slowly she saw his outrage turn to disdain, then to acceptance, if not understanding.

  “I accept thy apology on thy husband’s behalf.”

  His voice was low and gravelly, and he spoke with a sort of sing-song lilt. Instantly she knew he was a fraud, a cheat, insinuating himself into lives in order to control and dominate. She could feel it in her bones and longed to pull her hand from his. Whatever his reasons, Jonathan had been right. She was so thankful this man had never put a single finger on their daughter!

  She held his gaze and forced a smile. “Thou art most generous and kind.”

  “I wouldst speak privately with thee, Bold Miss.” Behind her, the queen’s voice was cold and measured.

  Relieved to let go of Dee’s hand, Anne turned to face Elizabeth. “I am ever at thy service, Majesty.”

  “Bold and yet contrite when it serves thee.” Elizabeth regarded her with a stern countenance. “Thy husband hath yet to return. Is he still captive of his terrible memories?”

  “I think it more likely he is being chastened by the verbal thrashing Henry is surely giving him over his rude, albeit unavoidable behavior.”

  Elizabeth continued to look at her until finally she shrugged. “This event is ruined. Dr. Dee, thou shalt take the midday meal with me in my chambers.” She turned to Lettice. “Please advise the staff that the celebratory feast is cancelled. I am no longer of a mood to make merry.”

  She started toward the door, Dr. Dee hot on her heels, then stopped and turned back to look at Anne once again. “Methinks ’twould be for the best if the entire Brandon family returned to London. Today. Make sure the good doctor knows his services are still required on progress. We shalt arrive at Wanstead on the fourteenth. Let thy husband know he may apologize to me in person at that time.”

  With that, Elizabeth swept from the room, and Anne was left to wonder how Jonathan had gotten roped into going on the queen’s progress, and when, or if, they’d ever find themselves back in her good graces.

  Chapter Five

  Richmond Palace

&nbs
p; “What happened in there?” Anne asked her husband as she rushed into the back room where he’d taken Rose. Henry and Cath stood by, looking perplexed, and Anne was thankful to see Rose sleeping soundly in Cath’s arms.

  Pacing, Jon looked at her with such torment in his eyes she stopped abruptly, even more concerned than before. This was so unlike him.

  “Annie, something’s very wrong,” Jon said, folding her into his arms.

  She hugged him tight. She could feel him trembling, his heartbeat thundering in his chest.

  “God help me, Anne, but I can’t help it… Something tells me he’s evil. I can’t say how I know—memories come in bits and pieces, so vivid, but they all tell me the same thing, and that is to stay away, and keep our baby as far from him as possible!”

  “Jon,” she pushed back and took his face in her hands. “Jon, slow down. Rose is safe. You saved her. Now calm down, please. Take a breath and explain from the beginning.”

  He looked up, blew out hard a few times, and then refocused on her. Anne sensed he felt better. Maybe.

  “Sorry, yes, quite. I’ve got it now,” he said. “I remember I was nearing the end of my furlough after Mum’s death. I’d asked Catherine to join me and my father for an excursion to Hatfield House. It was our first date, and we’d motored out for a day trip.”

  She glanced at Cath, then Henry, who both stared at Jon with interest.

  “Jon, what is it about Dr. Dee?” Anne asked.

  “We were in the last room, the one with all of the bits and pieces from Queen Elizabeth’s life, and there was this mirror on a stand. I remember Catherine telling me it was Aztec and that it came into the possession of Dr. Dee. It was then I heard chanting that wouldn’t stop. Tirra… Tarra… Something akin to that. And all of a sudden, the curator started shouting at me for touching the mirror and booted us out.”

  He looked at Henry and then let his gaze take in the room.

  Anne saw understanding, surprise, and shame tinge his expression.

  “Bloody hell, what have I done?” he whispered. “The queen must be furious.”

  He ran his hands over his face and shook his head. “I must make amends with her, I know, and with Dr. Dee, even though every instinct tells me he’s not to be trusted. You must promise me, Anne… He can never see, let alone touch our daughter. Never.”

  “All right,” she said, struck by his vehemence. “Elizabeth has cancelled the evening’s events. She said we should leave Richmond, and then you can apologize to her at Wanstead.”

  Jon nodded. “I can do better than that. I’ll apologize right now.” He turned and strode away.

  Worried, Anne watched him leave.

  With a gentle cluck of her tongue, Cath placed Rose in her arms. “Wouldst thou prefer a moment of privacy, my dear?”

  “Privacy…yes,” Anne said.

  Nodding, Cath led Henry out of the room.

  Several minutes passed before she realized she hadn’t told Jonathan about her ruse with Dr. D and the dead brother. Her first instinct was to rush off to intervene, but then she stopped herself. It was too late. Way too late. Jon would have to punt.

  Damn. She paced the room with Rose in her arms and waited.

  * * *

  Surprised to have been granted access into Her Majesty’s private dining chamber, Brandon kept his gaze on the floor tiles in front of him as he knelt before the queen. Dr. Dee was off to his left, and Brandon could feel the man’s eyes boring into him.

  He fought his revulsion and remained mute, grasping for inspiration as to what he should say, what he could say, that would fix the rift he’d caused.

  “Didst thy wife tell thee of mine own strict orders?” Elizabeth said sharply. “Thou wast to come to Wanstead and apologize there—not here, in the midst of heated tempers.”

  “Forgive me, Majesty. Please accept my deepest apology for mine own untoward behavior.”

  He glanced up. The queen frowned at him and then her gaze narrowed even more.

  Taking a deep breath, Brandon prepared himself for a tongue lashing—or worse.

  “Thy wife tells me thou suffered in thy youth at the hands of a certain doctor whose name started with the letter D.” Elizabeth continued to study him with a scowl, but her voice had grown softer, her stance less rigid. “Is that so, Doctor?”

  This conversation had certainly taken a different turn than Brandon expected. Shaken, he could not fathom what story Anne might have concocted on his behalf, and sought words that would not give away her falsehoods.

  Grasping at straws, he said, “I… She may have gleaned some insight into that troubled history, for I sometimes thrash and speak in my sleep,” he replied. “I have tried to erase the memories, dark as they are, but it has become—most unfortunately for all here today—quite obvious I have not succeeded. Therefore, I must ask, nay, beg thy forgiveness and that of Dr. Dee.”

  “As thou knowest well, I, too, have known much loss in my life,” Elizabeth said, her tone giving nothing away as to her frame of mind. “And I can understand putting overmuch faith in healers, prognosticators, and magicians who possess more ambition than skill.”

  Loss? Ambitious magicians? What had Anne said? Even more anxious to choose his words with care, Brandon heard shifting and thought it came from Dr. Dee’s direction. Was the queen reminding Brandon of his own place in the pecking order, however subtly, or was that comment meant for Dee?

  “Majesty,” Brandon answered, “my sole ambition is to serve the patients at St. Bart’s to the very best of mine own abilities, and, whenever needed, to be of service to thee. I seek no honors, and the beneficence thou hast shown to me and my family are most humbling and greatly appreciated. To be severed from thy service would be a deep wound, indeed, but only in the sense of losing thy friendship and the ability to care for thy medical needs as they arise. I have never sought glory or position, and would gladly give back all I have gained, if it would convince thee of my sincerity and devotion, and the depth of my regret for my earlier reaction.”

  Brandon angled himself toward Dee, and added, “Sir, I extend my regrets to thee, as well. I was rude and embarrassed thee in front of many—an act for which I will never forgive myself. Please accept my heartfelt apology.”

  Silence. Utter silence.

  Brandon dropped his gaze to the floor and focused his mind on a line of sweat he could feel trickling down his chest. He wondered how long the torture would last, and if it would get worse.

  The queen huffed. “I have been immeasurably tolerant of thy wife and her bold ways, but what makes thou believe I wouldst extend my tolerance to thee?”

  Heart hammering with dread, Brandon looked up and saw the queen’s unyielding stare. “Majesty, I am sorry. It is not often I am at a loss for words, but look into mine eyes. I am in pain knowing I hurt thee and let thee down. I have the greatest respect for the throne of England and those who sit upon it. I honor my queen, Elizabeth, so Majesty, please forgive me.”

  She looked at him frankly, and he held her gaze, striving to convey his sincerity.

  “’Tis oft asserted I am a good judge of character,” Elizabeth said in clipped tones. “And ’tis true, else I wouldst certainly be dead by now at the hands of those who seek to entrap by guile and deceit. Thou hast much to learn about my royal court and the expected behavior of those who attend me, but I shalt give thee a reprieve for letting me down, as thou hast phrased it.” She took a deep breath and shook her head. “I am as yet vexed by this, but I have changed my mind as to this evening. Dr. Dee, accept his apology at once, for I wish to recall everyone for the feast, as planned, and afterward I expect to spend the night dancing. Dr. Brandon, I do hope thou dost remember the steps learned yestereve, for I expect thee to lead me out for the first round.”

  Brandon rose with a surprised smile, quickly kissed her hand, and then stole a glance at Dee. He seemed unperturbed, but shot him a penetrating, yet undecipherable, look.

  “I thank thee from the bottom of my heart, Mos
t Gracious Majesty, and I look forward to our dance,” Brandon said to the queen, “even if it means thou shalt have need of my medical expertise afterward for thy ruined toes.”

  To his amazement, Elizabeth threw back her head and laughed, then clapped, and servants came running. “Carry on with your preparations for the feast! Tonight we shalt celebrate after all.”

  She turned, her skirts flying as she left the room, her servants following swiftly behind.

  Everyone, that is, but Dr. Dee.

  The man frowned. “I heard thee plain as thou took thy daughter from the cradle. Thou said the words. I wouldst like to know how thou didst learn mine own incantation.”

  Brandon went cold. What the hell did I say?

  “Answer me! How didst thou learn mine incantation?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Thou didst chant words of great secrecy and import known to very few. And thou spoke of a mirror as well. Aztec. I heard the word come from thine own mouth.”

  What in bloody hell? Brandon stood stock-still, trying to recall exactly what had led up to his grabbing Rose. He couldn’t recall saying anything.

  “Thou art mistaken, sir,” Brandon protested. “I might have called out to my daughter, but I said nothing else.”

  “Nay, I am certain thou didst say it.” Dee stared hard at him, but when Brandon offered no explanation, he abruptly turned on his heel and left the room.

  Suddenly, the damnable eerie whisperings filled Brandon’s mind once again. Tirratarratorratarratirratarratum… Tirratarratorratarratirratarratum.

  Bloody, bloody hell! He cupped his ears, tormented by the sound. He made a vow then and there—he would never again discuss this with Anne. It would scare her to death, and he resolved to bear the burden alone.

  He took a deep breath and set off to find his wife and child.

  Chapter Six

  The first hint of dawn made the center courtyard seem soft and dreamy as Anne and Jonathan made their way back to their suite in Richmond Palace. They had, quite literally, danced the night away, and she felt exhausted.