by Rikki Dyson
“Oh, I do wish we could help, my dear,” Alma said, then her face brighten with a new thought. “Stacey, did you by any chance, go by St Mary’s old parish church. Part of the old church has been there since the eleventh or twelfth century. I believe they kept records of marriages, baptisms, deaths and possibly the countess or one of her daughters may have married one of the Nobleman around here.”
“No, ma’am, I didn’t know about St Mary’s church. This was a hurry up trip for me. Perhaps I can come back another time, and search further. Stacey looked at her watch and said, “I’m so sorry to cut this short, but I have a plane I must catch to London tonight. Thank you both for your help. I truly wish I could stay longer, but I promised my husband I would be home by tonight.”
Alma Harden took Stacey’s hand and said, “It truly has been marvelous meeting you Stacey. If you are ever in Scotland again, please stop by for a visit.”
“Thank you Mrs. Harden, I will. I promise you I will be back.”
Alistair walked Stacey to her car and as she opened the door to get in he said, “You know Stacey, it’s a shame you didn’t come into my life sooner. We’re like passing ship in the night. Listen, how about I do some searching on my own. St. Mary’s is a good place to start. I’m sure Mother would enjoy snooping in the old church records. Should I find something interesting about these folks, how could I get in touch with you.”
Stacey wrote down her e-mail address and handed it to him, “You can always reach me there,” she said, then got in her car and drove away.
Stacey almost missed her plane to London. It took her longer to get back to Edinburgh, there was an accident on the highway. While she was sitting, waiting for the road to clear she called Grandmother McLeod to say goodbye. She also called Shane, but still no answer. On the plane she wrote down all the information she had gathered. She wished she had had time to go through the church records, that Mrs. Harden had mentioned. Maybe the next time, we’re in Scotland I can run down to Hawick and investigate the church records. With a smile, she thought, maybe visit with Mrs. Harden and Alistair too.
Chapter 37
London
Stacey arrived at the flat a little after dark. She was disappointed that Shane wasn’t there. She left her luggage in the hall and went upstairs. She was in the shower shampooing her hair when Shane joined her. “You’re quiet as a cat,” she told him as he took her in his arms and kissed her. “I take it your not mad at me anymore,” Stacey said, as he nibbled at her lips. It was obvious, what he had on his mind. As the warm water sprayed over them, they were consumed by the fires of passion.
Later, in bed Shane asked, “Was your trip worth the effort? I missed you.”
“I missed you too, and yes, I believe it was.” Stacey raised upon her elbow, looked Shane in the eye and asked, “Why didn’t you answer the phone when I called?”
Shane put a hand on both sides of her head, pulled her down and kissed her with a searing kiss and said, “We aren’t going to discuss that now are we? We have better things to do, such as this, as he kissed her breast, and this and this.” When he heard Stacey moan, he assumed the subject was closed.
The next morning at breakfast, Stacey brought the subject up again, “Shane, don’t you think we should talk this thing out. I don’t want you getting angry with me ever time we have a disagreement.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. It won’t happen again. My nerves were frayed from worrying about my grandmother. I must go, I’ll see you tonight,” he said, as he kissed her bye and promised he would try to be home early.
Stacey had time on her hands, so she went to spend some time with Annie. Stacey told her about Shane’s grandmother and her trip to Hawick, Scotland. “Yes, I know,” Annie said. “Shane was quite upset with you, but Hugh had a long talk with him and he calmed down after a while.”
“I’d sure like to know his methodology for future use,” Stacey said, half jokingly. “So help me god, Annie, I don’t understand why Shane got so upset about the whole thing. He has been with me from the beginning of this phenomena, and has been so supportive. I never expected him to blow up like he did in Scotland, and now he won’t even discuss it with me. Plus, I’m not in to this dictatorial attitude, that’s come over him. I’m his wife not his child.”
From Annie’s, Stacey went to the history department at the university to talk with Professor Brown. She now had the idea of searching church records. When Alma Harden mentioned St. Mary’s might have records of birth, deaths and marriages, Stacey suddenly remembered the countess and the earl were married by a priest from St. Michaels. If she could find this old church, then perhaps she could find the records and the name of the countess and what her connection was to her. She didn’t want to upset Shane again, so she would search while he was at hospital.
Stacey left the flat, almost as soon as Mrs. Wyatt arrived. She was very cordial with Stacey now that she knew they were married. She was surprised to see Stacey back in England. She knew that Doctor McLeod, was going to travel to Texas for the Christmas holidays to meet his new in-laws. Stacey told her about Grandmother McLeod having a stroke and that Shane had to cancel his trip to Texas and fly to Scotland instead. Mrs. Wyatt listened and then said, “Well, to be sure, Mrs. McLeod, the doctor is a good and caring man who loves his grandmother. How is his grandmother fairing? She is a mighty fine lady, to be sure.”
“Yes, ma’am, you’ll get no argument from me there, and I’m happy to say she is recovering quite nicely. I must go out for a while, but I’ll see you tomorrow,” Stacey said with a smile.
Professor Brown, called Stacey to inform her that a colleague of his was interested in helping in her search of medieval architecture. At the university, she was sitting in the history department waiting for a professor from Bradford who specialized in medieval architectural history. When he arrived, Stacey was pleasantly surprised. She was expecting a stodgy older man with a balding pate. This one resembled, a Norse god with a head full of hair as well as his chest, if what she could see from the opening of his shirt was any indication.
The golden Adonis, put his hand out and said, “Mrs. McLeod, I’m professor Mark Webster. I understand you’re interested in London of the middle ages.”
“Yes, I am,” Stacey said, as she shook hands with him. “It’s so nice to meet you. Thank you for coming. I know it sounds like an odd request.”
With a smile that showed off his dimples and his even white teeth, he said, “Not at all, Mrs. McLeod. I’m a professor of history, so therefore I spend much of my time in the past. Sometimes I think the past is more interesting that the present. Now, tell me, what can I do for you?” That was almost a loaded question. He couldn’t imagine what this very beautiful and very young woman could want from a history professor. Not that he would mind spending time with her, but he did sense a forlornness about her.
“I’m searching for a place, that I’m afraid doesn’t exist anymore, and please call me Stacey,” she said, instantly feeling a connection to him.
“Perhaps it does or doesn’t. Tell me the name of this place, Stacey.”
“It was a small church, by the name of St. Michaels. And it was located not too far from a large manor house by the name of Hampton hall. It was the town dwelling of the Earl of Hampton.”
Professor Webster rubbed his chin and asked, “Have you been to the historical society yet? They carry quite a lot of medieval history.” He was surprised to hear the slight trimmer in her voice. He knew without thinking twice, that he would do all that was possible to help her and to spend time with her.
“Yes, sir, that was one of the first places I checked.”
“Did you check on a map?” He asked. Stacey shook her head no. “You know London has changed considerably over the years. Perhaps we should start there. In what year do you suggest we start our search?”
“Thirteen-seventy, I’m pretty sure it was a functioning church at that time.” Stacey noticed the odd look he gave her, but he didn’t ask any question
s. Stacey felt very comfortable with him. She guessed him to be in his middle thirty’s. He sure didn’t look like any professor she had ever seen. As he rode in the car with her, she asked, “Are you from London, Professor Webster?”
“No, I’m not, I’m from Leeds in Yorkshire, Stacey. And my name is Mark.”
Stacey’s head turned quickly when he said he was from Leeds, Yorkshire. “Have you heard of Dun-Raven castle a few miles from Leeds?”
“Yes, I went there once a few years ago. I’ve often wondered why archaeologist have never excavated there.”
“Are you familiar with the history of the castle?” Stacey asked.
“No, not right off hand, are you?” He watched Stacey’s reaction. There was something mysterious about her, that he couldn’t put his finger on, but it was there just the same. Perhaps working together he would learn more about this young American woman who was so interested in English history.
“Clyde Brown, mentioned you’re an archaeology student from Baylor University. You are a long way from home, aren’t you?”
Stacey glanced at him and nonchalantly said, “I guess it depends on which home you’re referring to. I live in Texas and my husband’s home is here.”
“That makes it difficult on the marriage, doesn’t it,” he said, as he wondered who the lucky bastard was.
“We’ve adapted.” Stacey said. “Do you want me to park in front or go around to the side?”
“In front will be fine,” Mark said, as he heard the sting of dissent in her voice. In the historical society, Mark asked to look at their maps. The young woman was more than happy to help Professor Webster. Stacey got a kick out of seeing how women fell over themselves trying to assist him. Soon they had maps on top of maps. They broke for lunch, and a chance to let their weary eyes rest. In the pub, where they went to eat he received the same attention.
Stacey asked, “May I ask you something personal?” He frowned, but nodded his head as he leaned back and rested his arm over the back of his chair. “Does it ever become tedious, having women fall all over themselves for your attention.”
He smiled at her and said, “In one word, no, and why do you ask?” He thought to himself, I would be happy to fall over myself, do cartwheels or whatever else it would take to have her undivided attention.
“Because, my husband gets his share of the same admiring looks. He says he doesn’t notice half of the time.”
“That’s probably true, you get used to certain things. What about you, do you get tired of admiring glances, from men and women alike. Your young and quite beautiful. I’m sure you get your share of attention. Oh, I see you’re surprised by that. What does your husband do for a living?”
“He’s a doctor at the medical center, a neurosurgeon. A very good one.”
Mark had watched Stacey during the meal. He noticed she was unpretentious and comfortable with herself. He could sense an enigma about her. Why does she live in Texas and her husband live here, he wondered, but wasn’t insensitive enough to ask. Back at the historical society they searched through more maps.
Finally, Stacey looked at her watch and said, “I’m sorry, Mark but I must cut this short and go home, can I drop you someplace?”
“No, thank you, I’m going to look here a while longer and then call a taxi. I’ll see you in the morning at nine,” he said.
When Stacey walked in the door, Shane was sitting on the couch and asked, “Where have you been, sweetheart, and why aren’t you answering you mobile?”
Not wanting to lie, she said, “I’ve been at the historical society going through their maps. My cell phone was dead this morning so I left it on the charger. How long have you been home?”
“Not long,” Shane said. “You look tired. Would you fancy going out for a bite?”
“Yes, I’d love to,” Stacey said as she put her arms around him for a kiss.
After the waiter left their table, Shane said, “Tell me, what information did you dig up at the historical society. And what is this looking at maps all about. This is the first I’ve heard bout maps.”
Sometimes; Shane felt as if Stacey was shutting him out. He knew he had acted badly in Scotland and he would have to regain her confidence, by being more understanding and learn to control his jealousy, of this long dead earl.
Stacey decided, even if this turned out badly that she was going to tell him the truth,
“When I was at Hawick, I met a lady who suggested that I look at the church of St. Mary’s there at Hawick, but I didn’t have time because I had promised you I would be here in two days. Yesterday, I remembered in my dream that the priest from St. Michaels church had officiated at the wedding of the earl and countess. I thought, if we could find the church, then perhaps we could find the records of their marriage.”
Shane had sat and patiently listened, and then said, “That’s a wonderful idea, I wish I had thought of it for you. Sweetheart, I am truly sorry for the way I acted in Scotland.”
As the waiter served their food; Shane was smiling at Stacey. After a few bites, Shane asked, “Who is this ‘we’ that’s helping you with the map search?”
Stacey, put her silverware down, laced her fingers together and said, “He’s a professor of medieval studies, and an expert on middle age architecture and maps. Would you like to come with me tomorrow and meet him.”
Sheepishly, Shane said, “I would love to, sweetheart, but I have a backlog of patients I must see.” Shane took her hand and kissed it and said, “Thank you for asking.”
When they arrived home, Stacey had a text message from Mark, “Whoopee, I found it. I’m aware that’s not very dignified. I’ll see you at nine tomorrow, goodnight.”
Stacey was so excited, she could hardly wait for tomorrow. When she entered the bedroom, Shane was waiting for her with a glass of champagne. Stacey asked, “What are we celebrating?”
“We’re celebrating our love. I just realized today, that you’ll be leaving at the end of the week. I don’t want us to quarrel anymore, sweetheart. I love you,” he said as he took her in his arms kissing and undressing her as his lips and fingers caressed her smooth satiny skin.
The next morning, Mark Webster was waiting out front of the historical society when Stacey drove up. “Good morning, Stacey, I didn’t want to go in until you arrived. I wanted to share your excitement with you,” he said, enthusiastically. Stacey followed him in like an eager child. He retrieved the map he discovered late yesterday and took it to a table where a light would shine on it. He ran his finger along a line indicating a wooded area and what looked like a small abbey. The map was hand drawn with names scribbled in. Along the side of the abbey was scrawled St. Michaels Sanctuary.
Stacey’s excitement was boundless. “How do we go about finding this place?” Stacey asked. “Do you think it would still be there or encompassed by another building?”
“I had not thought of that,” he said. “We’ll look at later maps. This map is dated, fifteen thirty-eight. And as you see London is spreading out in all directions. We’ll find later maps and hope it’s still there. Of course, there’s the possibility it may have been a victim of the Protestant Reformation.”
Stacey studied the map with the sanctuary on it, and then brought out a few of the earlier maps they had searched. With the sanctuary for a guide, she was searching for Hampton hall. It didn’t take long for her to realize, it had been built over to expand the city. When Mark saw the expression on Stacey’s face and her wipe a tear from her eye, he took her arm and said, “Let’s get out of here and go get something to drink.” To the curator he said, “Leave every-thing as is, we’ll be right back.” Across the street at the coffee shop, Mark asked, “Why is this search so personal to you Stacey?”
Stacey looked out the coffee shop window as Mark sat patiently waiting for her answer, “If I tell you, you’ll think I’m a nut case.”
Mark smiled at her and said, “I rather doubt that, but granted I haven’t known you very long. So tell me and take your
chances.”
Stacey took a deep breath and told him about her fall at the archaeology site and about her dream and now she was searching for information on these people. She told him about Hawick in Scotland and St. Mary’s church. That was why she was searching for St. Michaels church.
“I know this will sound ridiculous, but sometimes I feel such a void in my life, as if I’m pining for someone or something. I’ll be the first to admit, I’m very curious about these people from the past and what they have to do with me. I’m trying very hard not to obsess about them, but I do feel a kinship to them, somehow,” she said.
“Well, I don’t think you’re a nut case. A bit strange perhaps.” he said, jokingly. “But defiantly not your run of the mill nut case. Is your husband aware of your dream.”
“Yes, he is, he was my doctor when I woke up in hospital. He looks very much like the earl of Dun-Raven. He’s been very supportive, but he does have some issues about the whole thing.”
“I take it that you haven’t been married very long. How old are you Stacey?”
“I’m twenty-one and we’ve been married five months. I must leave this weekend to go back to school, so I’m hoping to find something tangible before I leave.”
“Why don’t you transfer to here so you can be together?”
“Because our marriage is a secret. We both are the only children in our family, so we’re having a big wedding in June at the ranch, then I’ll be living and going to school here.”
“So, what you’re telling me is, that you’re a bonafide country girl,” smiling, he took her hand, shook his head and said, “We best get back to our search then, we don’t want you leaving empty handed, now do we.”
Back at the historical society, Mark pulled out more maps. Most of them only showed the tower and castle, London proper and the river waterfront. The next one was dated sixteen-ten and the next one sixteen-thirty-five. St. Michaels sanctuary was sketched in on both of those.