The Arrival of Richard III

by Kari August

  Dickie held his head in his hands. “I can’t believe I just did that.”

  Caroline looked at him, still laughing. “Me, neither. My parents would kill me if they knew.”

  Dickie jumped to his feet and gave Caroline a hand up. “We’d better get out of here before they discover us.” They hurriedly put on their shoes and joined the tour group again, but chuckled each time they looked at each other over the next couple of tour stops.

  The Total Tour was nearing its end when they entered the Tower of London. It brought back a lot of memories for Dickie, both good and bad. Caroline seemed to sense Dickie’s changed mood and gave him some space. He appreciated her sensitivity to his feelings and liked her all the better.

  Unfortunately, he did not at all welcome the attitude of the special tour guide just for the Tower. The supercilious man was definitely proud of himself. In a haughty tone of voice, he began by explaining that this part of the Tower where the group was now standing had first been built by the conquering Normans. Dickie yawned. Yeah, he knew.

  The guide led the group to the second floor. “Before the Tower was essentially turned into a royal prison by the Tudors, this room had been used for council meetings by the monarchs. For those of you who know your English history, you probably remember that Richard III had schemed for the crown”—he paused as if delivering a punch line—“since birth.” The tour group politely chuckled.

  Dickie’s mouth dropped open. What? Again this nonsense!

  “And this door, ladies and gentlemen”—he pointed to an archway and lowered his voice sinisterly—“is believed to be the one from which Richard departed the council meeting in order to plot the execution of William, Lord Hastings, who was his final impediment to obtaining the crown. You see, Lord Hastings, it is believed, had been scheming with Edward IV’s widowed queen and Edward IV’s former favorite mistress in order to remove from power Richard, who had been named temporary protector of the future king Edward V. They suspected that Richard was scheming for the crown himself. Richard, though, found out about their plotting to get rid of him and took action.”

  What, what, and what?!

  “Richard came back into the council meeting through that door and asked his councilors, including Lord Hastings, what should be done to someone who was plotting against him as protector. Lord Hastings, unsuspectingly, answered that such a person should be treated as a traitor. Then, on a signal, Richard’s men stormed the council chamber, grabbed Lord Hastings, and dragged him out into the courtyard, and, without so much as a trial, immediately and crudely axed his head off on a log lying on the ground!”

  The tour group gasped.

  Dickie had had enough. “Cocksblood! You lying whoreson!”

  He reached for his sword at his waist. It wasn’t there, of course. Damn, these pansy twenty-first-century men and their weapons ban! But the tour guide shrank a bit from Dickie, while Caroline took a step forward and said hesitatingly, “Dickie?”

  Remembering himself, remembering that he was supposed to be a modern commoner, he gave in, but just a little. “I mean, you lying focker!”

  Caroline laughed softly and whispered to Dickie, “Why do Brits say ‘focker’ instead of ‘fucker’? That and ‘brilliant’ all the time.”

  It was enough to help Dickie rein in his temper. She continued. “But I know what you mean. It sounds a bit far-fetched to me also. Since when have a man’s wife and his former mistress ever teamed up and plotted together? Of course they would have despised each other.” She motioned with her hand. “Come on; let’s get out of here and go view the crown jewels.”

  Managing to shake off his remaining anger under Caroline’s pleasant gaze, he allowed her to lead him out of the room. “All right, perhaps I’ll recognize some of them.”

  She turned back to glance at him. “Dickie, you crack me up.”

  He looked at her puzzled. “Is that good?”

  Caroline smiled her sweet smile. “Absolutely. I happen to be a pushover for goofballs.”

  Dickie shrugged and followed her out the door.

  An hour and a half later, he marveled at the fact that on the same day he had wept in front of Ned, remembering his precious family, he now stood with an arm around Caroline’s delicate shoulders and a hand holding hers. But, biting her lower lip, she had just revealed that she was actually a little afraid of heights, and they were now in some sort of huge revolving glass bubble—he thought he had heard it called a Ferris wheel—at the very top, viewing the city of London below. This was their last stop on the Total Tour, so Dickie figured there was little harm. Besides, he was a true believer in the art of chivalry. As a youth and into adulthood, he had owned and read nearly every book about gallant knights and ladies in distress. He had wanted to be King Arthur and Lancelot rolled into one.

  Caroline looked up, “Thanks, Dickie. You’re my knight in shining armor.”

  She couldn’t have paid him a higher compliment. Dickie smiled down at Caroline. “Glad I could be of some help.”

  “Dickie, I was wondering. Would you like to join some of my friends and me tonight barhopping? We might try to find where the Beatles used to play.”

  Beetles? What was she talking about? Dickie found he actually wanted to spend some more time with her. Not that he was interested romantically, and he doubted she was either—she was a bit young, at least ten years younger—but he liked the thought of going out again for the pure fun of it. But he knew he should decline. “My cousin Ned has probably already made plans for us tonight.”

  “Can’t you break them? Or bring your cousin along, too.” Her eyes sparkled. “I know—if you can come, we’ll pick you up in front of your hotel at eight o’clock. It’s on the way.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. Hope to see you then.” Dickie felt a burst of excitement and anticipation. Ah . . . to be free and footloose ordinary folk. He started whistling for the heck of it.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ned was sitting at the hotel desk, submitting their information online to the society, when his thoughts wandered. He couldn’t believe he had actually asked Lindsey to dinner tonight. But he had felt an immediate attraction that he just couldn’t ignore. First off, she was very appealing. Oh, not in a model kind of way, as Charlena had been, but more the approachable girl next door. She had long sable hair that she wore loose without adornment, and a figure that, though not voluptuous, was still shapely. But her eyes! Now, they were possibly her best feature: a soft shade of bluish gray, with dark lashes, serious and bright. He hadn’t noticed whether she wore any makeup, but she didn’t need to. She exuded a quick perceptiveness, and Ned couldn’t wait to get to know her better. He knew, though, that Dickie had to come along.

  Ned looked up when he heard the door opening. “Hi, Dickie. How was your tour?”

  Dickie sat down on the couch and turned on the television before answering, “Fine. Uh . . . interesting.”

  Ned frowned slightly. He had a feeling there was some story Dickie had to tell about the tour, but he hesitated to ask. Ned was in a good mood and didn’t feel like getting upset by Dickie’s latest antics. Besides, he had learned that if something untoward had happened, he would eventually hear about it.

  Dickie inquired, “So what happened with the society after I left? Are we actually going to join?”

  Ned paused. “I know they seemed rather dippy when you were there. But you know, Dickie, I thought about it some more after you left for your tour and came up with an idea that I think might work.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Well, we still join the society, but open an American branch. One where we have more control over meetings and what projects should be pursued.”

  “Why don’t we just start a society on our own? Who needs that group of eggheads?”

  “Good question. Well, we would be joining resources. Could pick their opinions, ah . . .”

  Dickie was looking confused.

  “I asked Ms. Sport if she would like to discuss i
t over dinner tonight.”

  Dickie laughed. “So that’s what this is all about. You’re attracted to Lindsey from the society.”

  Ned could feel his cheeks turning red for the second time in one day. What was wrong with him? “Where did you get that idea? I didn’t say anything about her. . . .”

  Dickie’s grin widened. “You didn’t have to. But sorry, I can’t come to dinner. I met somebody pretty also. I’m joining Caroline and her friends barhopping. Besides, you don’t need me there tonight to discuss an American branch.” Dickie snorted.

  “Barhopping? Are you trying to speak like an American now?”

  “How am I doing, mate? Besides proper English, French, and Latin, now I can add American English to my repertoire.”

  “Americans don’t say mate. Australians do.”

  “Oh.”

  “Were you watching some Australian actors on television?”

  “I guess I was. Anyway, tonight I’m getting a buzz on.”

  Ned grimaced. “‘Buzz on’? Dickie, don’t. American slang, even old American slang, just doesn’t suit you.” Ned moved from the desk and sat down next to Dickie on the couch. “So who exactly is Caroline? Where precisely are you going and how do you plan to get there? What time will you be back? And are you sure you won’t get lost?”

  “You can be such a buzz kill, Nedster.”

  “Dickie, stop!”

  “Ned, my own mother didn’t worry as much about me. Caroline’s studying business administration somewhere around London. She’s meeting me in front of the hotel at eight. I’m not sure how late I will be, but I’ll take money for a taxi if Caroline and her friends don’t drop me off back here.”

  Ned pleated his brows. “How are you at holding your liquor? We haven’t drunk much together.”

  “Believe me, Ned—anybody who spent as much time with my brother Eddie as I did couldn’t possibly not know how to hold his liquor. Actually, he used to tease me that I was too serious and needed to loosen up. I just never was much of a big celebrator like him.”

  “Good. Keep it that way.”

  “Although I did enjoy feasting and pageantry a lot.”

  “You mean for special occasions?”

  “If there was one thing I learned from Eddie, it was the importance of appearances. Eddie could have England’s finances in a total bind, but he still put on a grand show, wearing luxurious attire and hosting meals with the most sumptuous dishes and choicest wines. Did you know Henry VI could sometimes give a rat’s fart how humbly he presented himself?”

  “No, I did not, but back to tonight—”

  “I always wore the finest available garments and enjoyed hosting the most magnificent feasts. I would hire the best musicians and everyone danced.” Dickie stood up from the couch. “Do I look all right? Is this what one wears barhopping?”

  Ned eyed his “I climbed the Fourteener” T-shirt—it seemed to be a favorite of Dickie’s—jeans, and hiking boots. “You appear fine to me, but I’m no expert at barhopping either. Look, just try to get back by one or I’ll start to worry.”

  Dickie chuckled. “Yes, Mother.”

  Lindsey had wanted to change out of her practical but extremely boring skirt and blouse before dinner, but had stopped herself, knowing Ned had meant it as only a business meeting. She entered the hotel restaurant and looked around. She saw Ned at a corner table by the window and inwardly jumped up and down when she didn’t see Richard. Ned smiled and watched her walk toward him. She caught him eyeing her up and down briefly. She was pleased. She knew she had a trim figure even if the rest of her was so-so.

  He stood as she approached and helped her into her chair. Her mother would have approved. “Good evening, Ned. Have you been waiting long?”

  Ned smiled. “Not at all. Sorry, but my cousin couldn’t make it tonight. I ordered the scallops in lemon butter as an appetizer.” He gestured toward the plate. “Would you like to share? Or perhaps order a starter for yourself?”

  Lindsey smiled. “Scallops are one of my favorites.”

  Ned grinned as if he had just hit an American home run—or was it a goal? She wasn’t a sports fan and didn’t really know. An elderly waiter approached and handed her a menu. “Shall we start with a cocktail, madam?”

  She saw Ned had ordered a glass of wine and did the same. Wasn’t it considered passé nowadays to be drinking during a business meeting? Wait! Perhaps Ned thought of this as a date after all!

  Then she reminded herself to calm down. She was just being silly. She moved her overly large purse from the table to the floor next to her feet, suddenly embarrassed that she wasn’t carrying some trendy tote. But she always kept her ungainly bag with her in case she became inspired and wanted her drawing pad.

  Ned looked at her thoughtfully a moment. “When I first came into your office, I caught a glimpse of a sketch. Is it in your bag? Could I see it? It looked interesting.”

  He wanted to see one of her designs? She was suddenly thrilled that he took notice. But she backpedaled. She knew she needed to explain. “I, uh, work part-time for the society. I’m finishing lessons at a design school. If the office is slow, I work on assignments.” She pulled out her pad, opened it to the page she had most recently been drawing on, and handed it over.

  Ned studied the sketch and then, without asking, flipped back to see more of her designs. “You’re a dress designer? I never would have guessed.”

  She scoffed. “Well, I wish I were a dress designer, not that my parents would approve. I’m just learning the art right now.”

  Ned tilted his head. “Of course, as a lawyer I’m no expert, but these look very accomplished.” He looked at her, puzzled. “Why wouldn’t your parents approve?”

  Did she really want to explain? Let Ned know without a doubt that he was having dinner with a genius? Possibly scare him off? Even though this was the supposedly advanced twenty-first century, there were still plenty of men who valued ditziness in a woman. But then again, what difference did it possibly make at this business meeting? Who cared whether he liked her? Lindsey sighed. Well, actually, she did. And she might as well find out just what type of man Ned was.

  She took a deep breath and began. “You see, Ned, I’m not trying to brag, but I have an extremely high intelligence quotient, and my parents have always expected better from me than being a dress designer. I enjoyed history enough to have majored in it at the university, but it’s . . . not my passion. My parents think I’m now the head of the society, which isn’t true. And although I do not enjoy the deception, until I can become successful as a designer, I know my parents would be . . . well, aghast right now that I’m pursuing this career path.” She waited for his response.

  He remained quiet a long time, just staring at her. Lindsey began to squirm in her seat. Finally he burst out with, “I think I want to be a park ranger.”

  That wasn’t at all the response she was expecting. “A park ranger?” It was her turn to look perplexed.

  “Yeah, at Rocky Mountain National Park, to be exact. You know, help protect nature, guide the visitors, watch for environmental changes . . .” He trailed off.

  “Well, why aren’t you, then?”

  “The same reason as you. I’ve got an extremely high IQ and my parents always expected differently from me. Also, I’m in a competition with my cousin Clarence.” Ned proceeded to explain a long convoluted tale involving his grandmother’s inheritance.

  Lindsey chuckled. “I never thought I’d meet someone in a similar predicament to mine.”

  Ned grinned. “Neither did I.”

  And from then on they had a hundred questions for each other. They first talked about their childhoods. Lindsey told Ned about her dual citizenship. Her mother was American—though you’d never know it by how English she had become—and had insisted that Lindsey be born in the States. Next they moved on to how large their families were, who their favorite pet was growing up, where they liked to vacation . . . the conversation just seemed to flow
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br />   At one point, Ned ordered a bottle of wine to accompany their dinner, but other than that, Lindsey paid little attention to what she was consuming. By dessert they each felt comfortable enough to reach over, without asking, and sample each other’s choice. Ned adored chocolate, same as she. It was just . . . well, enchanting.

  The waiter then intruded and asked whether there was anything more he could get them. Ned looked over at Lindsey questioningly. She shook her head. Ned told the waiter to just bring the check. Lindsey glanced around and saw that the other customers had cleared the restaurant. The meal was ending, it was time to leave, and yet she wanted to spend more time with him.

  Ned suddenly got a guilty look on his face. “Ah, oh. We’ve hardly discussed the society and forming an American branch and . . . well, I know my cousin is especially concerned with what the society can do for him—I mean what the society does.” He looked a bit flustered at his remark.

  “Would you like to go someplace else?” It just popped out of her mouth. And now it was Lindsey’s turn to blush deeply. She had never acted so boldly, especially on a first date, and please God, this was their first date, wasn’t it?

  Ned hesitated, but then answered, “I share a hotel suite upstairs with my cousin. There’s a living area between each of our bedrooms where we could talk. I mean, uh . . . if you don’t consider it too forward or improper.”

  Lindsey had no idea whether he meant to actually discuss the society or if he was asking her to sleep with him. She never would do that on a first date, but she found herself answering, “No, not at all. Your hotel suite would be fine.”

  Ned sat on one end of the couch and Lindsey on the other. He couldn’t help smiling. Call him the grinning fool, but he just really liked her. She was attractive, witty, and bright. He had never been so drawn to a woman so quickly in his life. He had shocked even himself when he had told her about wanting to become a park ranger. He had read once that experts said it was easier for people to divulge personal secrets to strangers. Perhaps that was it, or possibly it was kindred spirits bonding, but he couldn’t help suspecting that there was something more.