The Thornless Rose (5 page)

Chapter Six

Anne and Catherine sat at the back of the noisy tour bus, heading for home. The air around them filled with the animated chatter of tourists, along with the warm summer breeze blowing in from every window. All sounds of their conversation would be whisked away here. Anne felt it was safe enough to talk.

“Grandma, I went back to the attic and found some old news clippings. I need to know what you suspect about Dr. Brandon.”

Anne retraced the steps of her bizarre experiences. Still hedging, she left out her encounter with Dudley, as well as the one with Brandon. She tried to explain her growing obsession with linking everything, somehow, to Brandon’s disappearance.

When Anne finished, she felt worn out, as if she had relived the past few days. She cast her gaze beyond the bus window, toward the rolling green countryside.

“This is all so weird,” she muttered.

There was a long pause, then Catherine sighed. “I was worried about you yesterday after we talked, darling, so much so I followed you about, but I lost track of you after the pub.” She glanced at the thornless rose, resting in her lap. “I’d so hoped the sensations would never be felt again by someone I loved. But somehow, I suspected you were being touched by them, too.” Her voice quavered. “Jonnie had experiences such as yours, with sensations every bit as strong. Strong enough for you to need more information, I believe. We’d best get on with a course of action now and perhaps you might be able to right a bit of the sorrow that’s followed me all these years, if we cannot hope to rectify it altogether.”

“What do you mean by a course of action? For what?” Anne asked.

The tour bus stopped at a light, and they waited for the blanket of noise to rise back up and cover them again.

When the bus lurched forward, Catherine went on, “Jonnie was quite unprepared when he vanished, and it is something I have always regretted.” She stared at Anne, her expression sharp with worry. “I hope,” she said, hesitating, “I pray that I am only an old fool with crazy ideas.”

Nervously, Anne pushed her windblown hair off her face. “You’re going to give me a heart attack, Grandma. Please tell me what you mean. I know you’ve studied this and think there’s more to it than Trudy’s ideas about kidnapping or murder.”

Catherine nodded. “That was all anyone could imagine, of course, but there is very much more to it than that. I believe Jonnie saw the past. Or perhaps the past visited him, or pulled at him. I don’t know.”

Anne’s skin went cold. “Which implies what, exactly?”

Catherine looked directly into her eyes. “Time travel.”

“What?” Anne had sensed the words were coming—actually braced herself for them—but hearing her grandmother say them left her stunned. “Grandma, you’re scaring me.”

“Listen now, Anne. I believe it’s a time vortex or gap or whatever you may want to call it. Some of the greatest minds of the past century—Einstein, Tipler, Kerr, Thorne, Mallet—have theorized the potential for traveling back in time, although the ability to artificially construct the
how
has never been seen as a possibility.” Catherine sighed again. “At any rate, my belief is that it occurs spontaneously at times, though whether one travels by happenstance or somehow draws it upon himself, I simply can’t say.”

“Do you know who Robert, Lord Dudley, was?” Anne blurted out.

Catherine’s eyebrows lifted. “Why, yes. He was Elizabeth I’s lifelong friend and closest confidant. She named him Master of the Horse as soon as she got her crown. Some said he was her lover. He certainly pursued her.”

Sounds about right
. Anne pointed to the rose. “I haven’t told you everything. Robert Dudley gave me that rose in the garden when I was taking pictures. And you should have seen the place. It looked so different.”

“Dear Lord.” Catherine paled and put a hand over her heart. “Why is this happening now? Why is this happening to you?” She looked directly into Anne’s eyes. “Is that all you’ve experienced?”

Anne hesitated, desperate to confess her experience with Brandon, but knowing she couldn’t; she was afraid it would break her grandmother’s heart. She bit her lip. “That’s all.”

“Oh, dear.” Catherine sighed. “I must admit I don’t fully understand this. Jonnie never brought anything back. There was no real proof. He never brought anything back from the past.”

Anne stared at her
. But I did?
This was going way beyond hallucinations. “Are you saying since I have the rose, I’m the one who time traveled, not Dudley?”

“I have no idea.”

“No way this is true!” Anne’s thoughts whirled in panic. “Time travel? No way, Grandma!”

Catherine held up the rose. “Tell me, then. How did you get this? You heard the tour guide say Queen Katherine’s Thornless Rose does not exist anymore.”

“I don’t know how I got it,” Anne cried out, “but I do know I’m getting out of here. You’re scaring me to death! I’m going back to Chesapeake as soon as I can get a flight. Then I’ll see a doctor. Maybe I’m just going crazy!”

People on the bus turned and stared, obviously curious about her sudden rant.

Catherine squeezed Anne’s hand, hard. She glared at the tourists, willing them to mind their own business. “Quiet, Anne. Don’t go wobbly on me. We simply must be practical about this.”

“No, I’m getting out of England today.” Anne feverishly searched through her leather bag, cursing and shoving things about at the bottom. Finding her smaller pocket book, she rifled through it, looking for the sheet with her airline reservations. “Here it is. I’ve still got the airline’s number listed. I’m calling to change my return flight.”

She dug into her bag again, found her cell phone, and tried connecting several times, but was unable to get a strong signal. “I need to get off this bus so I can call.”

“But, Anne, the coach can’t let us off here.”

“Why not?” She stood up and pushed past her grandmother. “Driver, we need to stop at the next light,” she yelled.

“Anne!”

“Grandma!”

Shaking her head, Catherine gently placed the rose in her handbag, gathered her things, and followed Anne off the tour bus. They found themselves on the outskirts of London proper, in an area Catherine, and seemingly cabs, rarely visited.

Anne tried her cell again and still was unable to get a strong signal. “Damn!”

Catherine took Anne by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. “Anne, you must stop this. Anne! Do you believe people have never gone missing in the United States? Have there truly never been any unexplained disappearances there? Think a moment, and tell me the truth.”

“Unexplained? Sure, it happens all the time, but––”

“Going back to the States won’t do you any good,” Catherine continued. “People go missing there, too. I don’t believe this has anything to do with location. I believe it has more to do with the person involved, that there is something about you causing this to occur. But I don’t know! Dear Lord, what if it could happen there as here? If you are destined to go back to Elizabethan times, I’d much rather you end up in London than in Virginia. It was a wilderness then, was it not?”

Panic gripped Anne. “Why is this happening to me? It’s freaking me out! I didn’t ask for this.”

“Jonnie didn’t ask for it, either.”

Anne stared at her grandmother for a moment. Then, she threw her cell phone back into her bag. “Well, it never happened to me in Virginia, Grandma. I never had this happen at home. I have to leave London.”

…

As Catherine and Anne entered the house, Duffy raced from the kitchen, yapping with delight. Standing up, he put his front paws high on Catherine’s leg. She patted him absentmindedly. “Not now, McDuff.” Then she called out, “Mrs. Leach, we’re home.”

Anne’s voice was low. “I’m going to my room.”

Trudy came into the hall just as Anne raced up the stairs. “What’s wrong, dear?” When Anne ignored her, Trudy turned to Catherine. “What’s amiss, Mrs. Howard?”

“Nothing. Anne’s just a bit under the weather.”

“Perhaps a cuppa would do her good. Will the two of ye be havin’ a bite o’ lunch then, or straight t’ tea?”

“Tea, please. Bring it into Mr. Howard’s library, if you don’t mind. Anne and I will be spending the afternoon in there, just the two of us.”

Trudy raised her eyebrows at the change of habit. “Straight away, then, in the library.”

“Ta, Mrs. Leach. And do include some sweets. Chocolate, I think.” Catherine glanced toward the stairs. “We have need of fortification.”

…

Anne stepped into the library, but hesitated by the door when she saw her grandmother on the phone. The dust cover on the mahogany desk had been pulled aside, revealing half the desktop.

“Yes, well, that’s awfully good of you. Do tell Peter it’s rather urgent. Yes. Quite right. Thank you.” Shaking her head, Catherine hung up the telephone and muttered, “For pity’s sake, whenever there’s a rush on, one always seems to catch a snag.”

“What snag?” Anne asked.

Catherine turned. “I’ve an old friend at Kew Gardens—Peter Blakely. I rang him up to see if he could help us out with identifying the rose, but he’s on holiday and won’t be back until Sunday week. I’ll put it in the refrigerator to keep until then. Perhaps the guide was wrong, and it’s not extinct. Peter will know.”

“Whatever,” Anne said with a shrug. “I really don’t care about the rose. Could I use your phone to call the airline, and then Mom and Dad, so they can pick me up at the airport? My cell still isn’t working.”

“Yes, but before you do, might I have a word with you, darling? I’ve some things I must show you.” Catherine pushed back the sofa’s cover, motioned for Anne to sit, and then left the room. In a moment, she returned with two bundles wrapped in tissue paper. She placed the larger one next to Anne, but kept the other in her hand as she sat at the desk.

A knock sounded on the door. “Do come in,” Catherine said.

Trudy bustled in with a tea tray. “Now, Anne dear, this should set ye t’ rights. I’ve found yer favorite chocolates an’ some maids o’ honor.”

Avoiding Trudy’s stare, Anne reached for one of the pastries. “Thanks,” she said. She used her finger to scoop out a bit of the filling and tasted it. The sweet, creamy goodness of the maids of honor reminded her of simpler, happier times.

With a sigh, she set the pastry down.

Trudy clucked her tongue. “Ye’ll be wastin’ away t’ nothin’ if ye dinna eat, lass.”

Catherine frowned. “Do give us some privacy, Mrs. Leach.”

Trudy returned her frown, and, grumbling, left the library.

Catherine pointed to the bundle next to Anne. “Please unwrap the parcel. I think it might come in very handy for you.”

Anne pulled away the tissue and unrolled folds of deep green wool. She stood up when the length of the material proved longer than her outstretched arms could manage. The fabric tumbled loose, revealing a beautiful silk-lined cape.

“It’s gorgeous, Grandma. Is this yours?”

“Heavens, no. It belonged to my grandmum. That wasn’t the sort of thing one wore to functions in my day, yet I could never bring myself to part with it. When you were little, I was tempted to put it in the family dress-up box for you to play with, but now I’m very glad I kept it apart. Your great-great-grandmother used it over her gowns when the weather wasn’t cooperating.”

Anne’s eyes narrowed. “And why would I need this?”

“Well, if you ever did vanish like Jonnie...”

Anne shook her head at the ridiculous turn things had taken. “No, that won’t happen because I’m leaving. Please, enough of this, Grandma. May I make the call now?”

“Yes, quite. You should go home. But, just in case, try on the cape. Indulge an old woman’s worries.”

Resigned, Anne studied the garment. The deep, forest green of the fine wool was offset by the shimmering, dark rose hue of the silk lining. She swept it around her back, amazed by its weight as she brought it to settle on her shoulders. Across the front, heavy, black, brocade clasps held it together, while intricate embroidery in black silk thread traced a wide border around the ample hood and hemline.

“Anne, remember the portraits at Hampton Court? You’ll need to have something close at hand if you do go vanishing on me, to cover your modern clothing. I’m sure Jonnie would have passed well enough—trousers are trousers, after all, although I’m sure his uniform looked quite out of place. But you mustn’t wear jeans, or anything short-short, until you’re back in Virginia. You’ll have to find something passably appropriate for the 1500s.”

Another knock on the door. Trudy poked her head in, her gaze traveling to the cape. “Weel now, Anne, are ye goin’ t’ a masked ball, then?”

“Trudy, Grandma doesn’t believe Dr. Brandon was murdered.”

“Anne, please,” Catherine cautioned. She turned to Trudy. “What is it?”

“I forgot t’ ask if ye minded if I hoovered this afternoon, Mrs. Howard. Will it disturb ye?”

“It will not. Now, please, leave us.”

“No, Grandma. She should stay. She deserves to hear this.” Anne saw Trudy’s questioning gaze. “My grandmother thinks Jonathan Brandon went back in time, and she thinks I’m going back, too.” There, she’d said it out loud. Now everyone would laugh at the absurdity of it all.

“Christ defend us!” Trudy sank into the nearest chair.

Her reaction made Anne feel queasy.

Catherine sighed and left the room, muttering, “I can see that Mrs. Leach will need her own cup.”

Ignoring her grandmother’s disapproval, Anne set the cape aside and sat on the sofa. She told Trudy what happened with the monks at Westminster Abbey and everything at Hampton Court.

Still muttering, Catherine returned and poured Trudy some tea.

“The veil between two worlds,” Trudy said after she took a gulp. “Aye, that would explain it. The Druids spoke o’ this in the olden days.”

“Druids now?” Anne said, exasperated. “I’ve known you my whole life, and I know you love paranormal stuff, but come on. This is real life,
my
life. Don’t you understand why I’m upset? It’s like a death sentence. You’re both saying I could disappear forever!” She choked back a little sob. “I’ve got to leave London as soon as I can.”