by Kari August
“So what do you want to know?” Lindsey inquired, breaking into his thoughts.
“Um, how did your society begin?”
“The traditional Richard III society that’s been around for years was too divided in its opinions, which weakened their message. Their talking points didn’t translate well to the public, since their topics were debated among themselves. There was a group of us who had no desire to argue anymore whether Richard III had killed his nephews. It was obvious to us that he hadn’t.”
“I agree.”
Lindsey smiled. “Smart man. So anyway, we formed our own group and are trying to enlighten the public on several issues besides that one.”
“How’s it going?”
“Poorly. We need money. It’s what makes the world spin. We can’t accomplish much without financial backing. We’ve talked about producing a well-done documentary or putting out ads, but we need the cash to do it.”
“How much does the society have in funds right now? Can you say?”
“It’s public record. Only a little over five thousand.”
Ned grimaced. “Not much.”
“I know.”
Ned sighed, knowing he had no way of helping, especially now, while he was unemployed. “What other issues besides the nephews do you agree on?”
“What happened when Richard III executed William, Lord Hastings.”
“What do you believe?”
She took a deep breath. “Well, it’s complicated, as I’m sure you are aware. But we suspect strongly that on Friday, June thirteenth, 1483, Richard III was called out of that council meeting and informed by someone about the marriage precontract that his older brother Edward IV had engaged in, making Edward’s children with actually his second wife illegitimate, thus making Richard’s nephews ineligible for the throne. And furthermore that this was the first time Richard had heard about it or at least seen proof of it. We also believe that someone told him that Lord Hastings, who had been King Edward’s best friend, had known about the contract for years, but failed to tell Richard that he was the rightful heir to the throne.”
Ned jumped in. “Richard, who valued loyalty above all else—”
Lindsey continued: “—was deeply wounded and hurt by Lord Hastings, whom he also considered his loyal friend, and in a fit of rage over the deception—”
Ned finished the sentence: “—executed Lord Hastings. Lord Hastings was never involved in a plot against Richard involving Edward’s widowed queen and his ex-mistress. How ridiculous.”
Lindsey nodded. “Lord Hastings had even been the one who had warned Richard a couple months before about a possible plot against him that he suspected was masterminded by the queen and her kin. And now we’re supposed to believe that he had joined her side against Richard?”
Ned shook his head. “Absurd. But Lord Hastings, who was a second cousin, had been put in an impossible situation. He had been loyal all his life to the house of York, first Richard’s father, then Eddie—I mean Edward IV—and now he was trying to be loyal to Richard. But how could he tell Richard that he was the rightful heir without being unfaithful to the deceased Edward IV, who obviously had wanted his eldest son to inherit the throne?”
Lindsey nodded. “But can you imagine how hurt Richard must have been by the deception? Even if Richard hadn’t joined in the constant celebrating between Edward IV and his party companion Lord Hastings, they had at least known each other for years and had fought in battles together, side by side.”
Ned sighed. “But Dickie didn’t have to kill Lord Hastings, for God’s sake.”
Lindsey smiled. “Yeah, Dickie was the name his family called him by. But, Ned, Richard was a man of his times. If someone committed such deception, it was expected that they would be killed. But, surely Richard regretted his impulsive act. He could have used Lord Hastings’s support at the final battle against Tudor. Hastings’s added troops might have made all the difference.”
Ned nodded. “He treated Hastings’s widow well, though.”
“And he gave Hastings a proper burial, befitting his position. He’s interred next to Edward IV, as had been his wish.”
After a moment, Ned announced, “It was Catesby.”
“Who?”
“It was William Catesby, better known as ‘the Cat’—Hastings’s lawyer and then one of Richard’s top men—who told Richard about the precontract and that Hastings knew about it. How else do you think such a nobody as Catesby could have risen so high in Richard’s administration? He coveted some lands that Hastings owned and wanted to do him in.”
Lindsey asked, “How do you know?”
“Well, obviously I don’t know for sure, but I just finished reading on the plane an excellent piece of work by Peter Hancock, Richard III and the Murder in the Tower, where the author outlines the sequence of events exceptionally well.”
Lindsey looked interested. “Do you have the book with you?”
Ned got up. “It’s still in my bag.” He walked toward his bedroom and Lindsey followed. Ned rummaged through his luggage and Lindsey sat down on the edge of his bed. He found the book and handed it over to her. She positioned the pillows and leaned back against his headboard, one leg now slightly on the bed, and immediately started perusing the book. “This is fascinating.”
Ned smiled. He loved intelligent women. The conversation he had just had with her would have bored his average date silly—that is, if any of them even could have followed it—but not Lindsey. She seemed to revel in it, the same as he. “Lindsey, while you look at the book, do you mind if I get something to drink from the machine down the hall? Those scallops were really salty.”
Lindsey barely glanced up. “Sure, Ned. Can you get something for me?”
“Bottled water?”
Lindsey nodded, already absorbed in reading the book.
Ned found there was actually no drink machine down the hall and he needed to go to the small convenience store across the street. By the time he got back to the room, he found Lindsey sound asleep, with the novel still resting open on her chest. He softly chuckled. He didn’t want to wake her. She looked so peaceful and angelic. He raised both her legs the rest of the way onto the bed and she didn’t wake up. He placed a coverlet on her and she didn’t stir. Ned shrugged. He closed his bedroom door and lay down next to her, with his clothes still on. He raised his arm over his head to nap until she awoke. He fell asleep easily, but was roused an hour later when he heard the hotel door opening and . . . Dickie singing?
“She lubs me, aye, aye, aye. She lubs me, aye, aye, aye. Ooooooo . . . la, la, la, la, la, la, dee, dee, dee, dee, de, dee, you know that can’t be good, aye, aye, aye . . .”
Ned heard Dickie stumble into his bedroom and close the door. Ned started to turn onto his side, but stopped when he realized Lindsey had cuddled right next to him, her leg over his thigh. He smiled to himself and fell back to sleep.
The next morning Ned carefully disentangled himself from a softly snoring Lindsey and quietly closed his bedroom door behind him after entering the common living space. He found Dickie with Lindsey’s notepad in his hand, flipping through the pages.
“Good morning, Ned. Whose are these?”
“Put those back; they’re Lindsey’s private property. You shouldn’t have gone snooping through her bag.”
“I didn’t. It was lying open on the couch and I just plucked this out.” Dickie turned the notepad around to show Ned a sketch. “Did you see this drawing? It looks like something my wife would have worn, but with a twenty-first-century twist.”
Ned couldn’t help but be curious and took the pad from Dickie. He hadn’t seen this sketch. He flipped the page and there was another similar drawing. She must be interested in medieval clothing. The dress was pretty and elegant to Ned’s way of thinking. But everything about Lindsey was pretty and elegant to Ned’s way of thinking. He looked back at Dickie. “She wants to be a clothing designer.”
“Who? The cute girl you had dinner with from t
he society?”
Ned smiled. “She’s so much more than cute, Dickie. She’s intelligent and fun to talk to—”
Suddenly they both heard Lindsey running water in the bathroom attached to Ned’s bedroom. Ned fumbled, trying to close the pad shut. He shoved it into her bag and turned back around to Dickie, who had a knowing smile on his face. “Don’t say a word.”
“Ned, you must marry her if she’s with child. It’s the chivalrous thing to do.”
Exasperated, Ned said, “She’s not pregnant.”
Dickie shook his head. “Doesn’t matter; you still compromised an innocent.”
“No, I didn’t.”
Dickie looked confused. “I really don’t understand some things about this century.”
Ned blew out a breath. “Never mind. Let’s change the subject. You never told me any details of your tour yesterday.”
“It was fun, except the tour guide at the Tower was such an arse. You wouldn’t believe the rubbish he tried to pass off as the truth.” Dickie suddenly smiled.
Ned turned around and found Lindsey standing hesitatingly in his bedroom doorway. She then straightened her shoulders and took a step forward, holding out her hand. “Good morning, Richard. It’s nice to see you again.”
Dickie shook her hand. “You should start calling me Dickie, especially since we’ll soon be family.”
She frowned slightly, bewildered by the remark, then turned to Ned and said, “I’m so embarrassed. I can’t imagine what you think of me. I’m such a sound sleeper, and I think the wine made me even drowsier, and I just feel so comfortable around . . .” She trailed off and her cheeks turned pink.
Richard chuckled. “You should meet my friend Caroline if you think you have sleeping issues—”
Ned smiled warmly and interrupted. “I don’t think anything about you except how much I enjoyed spending time with you.”
She turned directly to Ned. “You did? So did I.”
Dickie chuckled. “Well, well, well. It looks as if congratulations are in order—”
Ned quickly cut him off again. “Dickie was just telling me about his tour of the Tower yesterday.”
Lindsey perked up and turned back to Dickie. “Yes, I heard you saying the guide spouted rubbish. But in fairness, how could you know? I mean, really, how can any of us genuinely grasp the truth until more substantial exploration is done in some areas of debate?”
Ned swallowed, knowing disaster was potentially in sight. Sure enough, Dickie said, “Ned, didn’t you tell her yet?”
Behind Lindsey’s back, Ned did a slicing motion with his hand at his neck. Dickie, please. Just shut up!
Lindsey turned back around to Ned. “Tell me what?”
Ned shrugged. “Oh, just that Dickie is an authority on Richard III.”
Dickie snorted. “I’d say I’m much more than that.”
Lindsey looked at Dickie and smiled. “Where did you learn your knowledge? Which university?”
Dickie chuckled and rocked back on his heels a couple times. “From the school of personal experience—how’s that for knowing what’s true or not?”
Lindsey took a step back and looked from Dickie to Ned. “Ned? What’s he talking about?”
But Dickie just wouldn’t remain quiet. “Oh, go ahead and tell her. She’s going to be your wife, after all, and as a member of the society, it could come in handy for her to know.”
Ned started shaking his head, absolutely horrified. Lindsey took another step back and demanded, “What’s going on here?”
Dickie spoke up again. “I’m Richard III, come back to the twenty-first century to repair my reputation.”
Lindsey’s mouth dropped open. “Ned, tell me you don’t believe what he’s saying.”
But Ned now realized that he did believe Dickie was Richard III. Slowly but surely, he had come to accept it as the truth. Or perhaps he had realized it all along, as soon as Dickie had told him that first day they met that he wanted to be a park ranger. Ned had just not been able to admit it to himself until now. “Well, see, Lindsey, it’s a funny thing, but God actually owed Dickie a favor. . . .” Ned swallowed hard. He had to lie. He just had to. It was the only way to try to keep her.
However, he saw it was too late. She was reaching for her bag with the most hurt and disappointed expression on her face. He could relate. He felt the same way. Gone was any hope for a relationship between them. Sure, they lived thousands of miles away from each other, but Ned had met more than one couple who had made that work. “Lindsey, wait.”
But she was rapidly walking toward the door with one hand raised, as if to silence the crazy people in the room behind her. Ned dropped his head and shook it as he heard the door click closed. He walked to his bedroom and quietly shut his own door behind him.
A few minutes later, Dickie was still wondering what to do. He didn’t think he should try to find Lindsey, but he wanted to make Ned feel better. “Ned? Do you want to talk?”
Behind the door, he heard Ned answer. “No.”
“When does our plane leave for Colorado?”
“Late this afternoon.”
Oh. There wasn’t much time for Ned to explain the situation better to Lindsey. “Perhaps you should call her.”
“What’s the use? She’s thinks I’m insane.”
“Now, you don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do. Go watch television or something. I need to be alone for a while.”
“Actually, I was hoping to pay my respects to Eddie. There wasn’t time for that yesterday during the tour. Want to come?”
“No, thanks.”
“I’ll be careful not to get lost.”
“Fine.”
“I’ll take a cab there.”
“All right.”
“I’ll be back in a couple hours.”
“Okay.”
“I won’t talk to strangers.”
“I wasn’t worried you would.”
Where was Ned, his mother hen?
Chapter Fourteen
Ned continued to mope the rest of the day, throughout the plane ride back and the following day in Estes Park. Finally unable to tolerate his cousin’s mood at the evening meal, Dickie said cheerfully, “So, Ned, we haven’t talked since your dinner with Lindsey about the society and what we should do now to improve my reputation.”
Ned looked up from pushing his peas around his plate. “It’s looking pretty hopeless.”
Dickie frowned. “Why’s that?”
Ned shrugged and went back to playing with his food. “The society needs money, and lots of it. They want to make that documentary for television. Perhaps do advertising. That takes a serious financial commitment.” Ned looked briefly up. “They only have about five thousand pounds.”
“What if we make the documentary? How much does something like that cost?”
Ned shrugged. “A half million dollars? I don’t know for sure, but let’s just say way more than they have or we have hope of obtaining.”
“Good God, what are we going to do now?”
Ned shook his head. “Your guess is as good as mine. And to top matters off, we spent way more than I thought we would with this trip. I’m going to be broke soon if we don’t watch our spending more.”
Dickie didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t realized matters were so dire.
Ned sighed loudly. “I should try finding another corporate lawyer job. It was stupid of me to think I could possibly avoid the inevitable.”
Dickie was aghast. “Now, Ned, don’t do anything you’ll regret the rest of your life. You need to think about this some more.”
But Ned said nothing in return.
The following morning Dickie tried to think positively. He had been in worse fixes before and managed a way out. Ned, however, stared sightlessly at the television. He was still in his pajamas. Dickie had just served him Eggs Parisian. Ned had barely taken a bite before he had plopped down on the couch and sighed. Dickie now put on the Television Buying Network, t
he channel he loved, but which he knew Ned despised. Ned, however, didn’t even bother to complain.
Dickie began folding all his newly washed American clothes. Before loading the laundry machine this morning, he had changed into his royal attire that Herman had given him. The one habit Dickie was enjoying in the twenty-first century was taking frequent showers and smelling clean. He was becoming completely intolerant of unpleasant smells, and his clothes had begun to stink from so much wear.
“Ned, don’t you have a ranger class to get ready for?”
Ned sighed again. “I’m skipping it today.”
What was there to do? Dickie volunteered, “Perhaps I could get a job.”
Ned looked at him briefly. “You don’t have any twenty-first-century skills. At least not ones that will give you much of a job.”
Ned was probably right, but Dickie didn’t like hearing it all the same.
Ned shook his head and looked down. “Everything’s just so disappointing.”
True. True. But this moping about was a little excessive to Dickie’s way of thinking. It wasn’t going to get them any closer to their goal. After he finished folding, he decided to clean the breakfast dishes. He was scrubbing the saucepan when he happened to look out the kitchen window. He whistled low. “Who’s this gorgeous creature walking up our driveway? She’s really . . .” Dickie made curvy motions with his hands.
Ned perked up. “Lindsey? I mean, uh . . . of course it can’t be.” But Ned jumped off the couch and hurried over to the kitchen window.
So the difficulties with Lindsey were behind at least some of Ned’s mood. Dickie had wondered about that.
Ned peered through the window, then whacked Dickie on the arm. “Don’t talk that way about Aunt Elle. It’s creepy. I wonder what she’s doing here.”
Ned and Dickie walked out the front screen door to greet her. Aunt Elle hurried up the drive when she saw them. She gave Ned a kiss on the cheek and smiled warmly. “Ned, it’s great to see you. How are you doing? Did you just get up?”
