Timeless Falcon 1

by Phillipa Vincent-Connolly

  I slide out of bed and curl my toes into the plush rug. Where’s my dressing gown? My head wasn’t right after my late-night audience with the king. Gosh, I got away there. Lucky, I didn’t have to slide between the sheets with him. He certainly has a way about him. I can’t help chuckle thinking about the things I do to keep his interest in my friends. What will Anne think? She’s going to kill me when she finds out I’ve shared how she feels about his treatment of her sister.

  “Mistress Elizabeth, ’tis Jane Parker. She insists…” Jane, looking flustered, pushes past Agnes.

  “Who exactly do you think you are?” she screams, standing at the foot of my bed, hands on hips.

  “Pardon?” I pull my plaited hair over my shoulder.

  “You heard me.” Her eyes are ferocious. “You have upset George, and he will not speak with me.” He avoids speaking with her at the best of times, but I’m not going to tell her that.

  “Why, Mistress Parker, would that be my fault?” I ask, reaching for my dressing gown, which Agnes has found. I wrap it over my shoulders and shove my arms through the sleeves. Agnes ties it up on me.

  “George was angry when you danced with the King last night!”

  “And?”

  “I know he cares for you… I-I’m not stupid!” Her eyebrows knit together as she squints at me through the slanted sunlight.

  “Do not screw your face up like that, you will spoil your beauty,” I quip. “George and I are friends. You know this.”

  “It is more than that, I can feel it.” Her scowl darkens her eyes. “I have seen the way he looks at you…how you exchange glances.”

  She’s right, I know, but I have to draw her off our scent. Besides, it’s not my fault we fell for each other, and it was long before she met him.

  “I am his betrothed,” she snaps. “Soon to be his wife!”

  “I know, Jane.” I walk over to her, arm outstretched, wanting to give her some reassurance, but she stiffens and backs away.

  “Do not be charitable to me, as if you feel sorry for me,” she says. “I have told George he is to have nothing to do with you again. You are not to socialise with him or spend any time alone with him, whatever!”

  “That is not for you to command,” I reply. “Only Sir Thomas Boleyn can tell me what I should or should not do regarding his family.”

  “Ladies, perhaps it would be best for you both not to be arguing?” Agnes pleads. “Mistress Anne would not like it, and neither would Master George!”

  I can’t stop a chuckle. “Agnes, George would love it. You know he enjoys being the centre of any attention.”

  “Now you are making fun of my betrothed!” Jane shouts. “Have a care, Mistress Wickers.”

  “If George were here, he would be laughing, too. It just shows how little you know him.”

  “And you know him better?”

  “I like to think so.” That probably wasn’t a wise thing to say.

  She paces up and down the bed-chamber. “You come from France. No one has heard of you, yet you have money in your own right. Your parents never visit Court, and no one has ever met them. You align yourself with the Boleyn family, who take you in without question. You make friends with Anne and my fiancé…goodness knows why?” She’s fuming now. “You bewitch George so that he falls in love with you, even though you know he is to be married.” Her voice must be heard on the next floor at this stage. “According to the Boleyns, you are a servant – yes, a servant! – yet you swan around the Court, dancing with the King, and now I have heard you met with him in his private chambers and, I do not doubt, have probably been in his bed!” She turns to me, her eyes blazing. “Who do you think you are?”

  “I have cast no enchantment on anyone. I am a good friend of the Boleyns, nothing more.”

  Agnes strides back into the room, her brows furrowed, ready to put her two-pennies’ worth in, which is nice to see. “Mistress Wickers has been nothing but loyal to the Boleyns…and, as far as Master George be concerned,”—her country accent comes stronger with her ire—“’tis him who flirts with Mistress Wickers, not the other way around. He pushes himself upon Beth, I have seen and heard it with mine own eyes.”

  “You are lying!” Jane cries.

  “No, Mistress Parker. I never lies.”

  “And another thing!” Jane shouts, swinging back to me. “You conspire to not only take George from me but after last night, you plan to come between the King and Queen!” She is spitting feathers now. “How dare you come between a good Catholic marriage, that the Pope has blessed from the very beginning.”

  “I have done noth—”

  “I knew you were an evangelical as soon as I set eyes on you!” She persists in shouting, her ire twisting her mouth. “You turn George against me, and now, for your own ends, you are prepared to turn His Grace against his beloved wife!”

  I hold my hands out to her. “Jane, you have this all wrong, I swear!”

  “Well, whatever the case, I shall petition the King and ask that you be banned from Court, so that you will never return!”

  “Ye cannot do that!” Agnes shouts.

  “Watch me!” Jane snaps at her. She swivels back to me. “If you have charmed the King, then I will go to the Cardinal myself and tell him of your misdeeds, so he can ban you from Court.” She’s beside herself as she paces the chamber.

  “Jane, this is all jealousy against me, which is completely unwarranted.”

  “Elizabeth Wickers,” she almost growls, “you have proven to me what a brazen and wanton opportunist you are. You are not fit to serve the Boleyn family, and I will tell Sir Thomas what a deceitful, google-eyed whore you are, who should be locked in The Tower and the key thrown away!” She glares at me before storming out. Agnes follows after her, making sure she has gone, then bolts the door behind her.

  “I am so sorry, Mistress, please forgive me?”

  “It’s all right, Agnes. This isn’t your fault.” My legs are shaking. “If anyone else bangs on my door, do not let them in, understood?”

  “Yes, Mistress Beth.”

  “Now, help me dress.”

  She hurries around the chamber. “Which gown would you like, Mistress?” She pulls a clean shift from the top of a trunk.

  “The dark mulberry one,” I reply, “with the sheep-colour sleeves and black French hood.”

  “And the petticoat and kirtle?”

  “The plain, red-wool petticoat, and the damask, sheep-colour kirtle.”

  “Very well.” She soon finds the garments and lays everything out on my bed, then proceeds to help me into each item at their allotted time.

  “Mistress, why are you in such a hurry?”

  “I do not know,” I lie. “I feel the need to get some fresh air.” I want to get back to Hever to avoid confrontation with Jane again, or with George. But what if Jane carries out her threat? Perhaps going back to Hever isn’t a good idea, either. I want to avoid all the questions from everyone. And I don’t want to think about what Sir Thomas would make of me visiting the king in the middle of the night. Neither do I want to answer questions from George about what might have happened. What if she goes the cardinal or, God forbid, the queen? I will be done for – thrown in The Tower under false allegations. Wolsey would never believe a newcomer to Court. He would side against me because he dislikes the Boleyns. If I’m locked in The Tower, I may never get out. My goodness, I may never get back to my own time, especially if they strip me of my possessions. The ring might be lost for eternity and I would rot in a prison cell with no hope of ever seeing my family or freedom again.

  Agnes fumbles around, her panic mirroring my silent distress. She finishes dressing me, just as she’s done so many times before.

  “Sit down, Mistress. I shall do your hair.” I sit at the dressing table, holding a small vanity mirror as she pulls my hair into a tight bun at the b
ack of my neck – no time for fancy braiding. She sits my French hood just in the right spot, tucking the edges over my ears.

  “That looks well on you, do you not think?”

  “Beautiful, Agnes,” I reply, viewing my reflection in the mirror. I turn to her. “Would you mind fetching some bread and cheese from the kitchens, so I can break my fast?”

  “Of course, Mistress Elizabeth.” She turns to go into the outer chamber.

  “Agnes, what time is it?”

  “Nine of the clock,” she answers. “I just heard the chimes in the courtyard.”

  “Thank you, Agnes.” How did I miss that? I give her my best smile. “And, Agnes, thank you so much for all your support.”

  She glances back at me, delighted in herself. “I shall be back in no time at all.”

  I know I haven’t much time, so I check all my personal belongings, making sure there’s nothing incriminating left amongst them. Then I pack everything together in the trunks, ensuring the chambers are left tidy. My conscience is at me. I need to escape the problems I’ve caused here. Should I just go? I’ve not said goodbye to Sir Thomas, nor to his wife, or Anne or Mary stuck at Hever. Then there’s George. What do I do about him? If I say goodbye to him now, that’s only going to open up a huge can of worms, especially with Jane. If he’d just waited to see what happened with the king, and what he’d wanted, rather than jumping to conclusions, then Jane might have left well alone. His jealousy of Henry has driven Jane’s jealousy. Oh, it’s all such a mess. Maybe I should never have done the time-travelling experiment in the first place. I know I’ve overstepped the mark – probably even messed up that time-space-continuum stuff, and things might not be the same when and if I try to go back to my time. Do I take a carriage back to Hever to use the portal, or should I see if the ring works on its own, like before?

  My heart leaps at a pounding on my chamber door. George is roaring my name, his voice rising above the hammering of his fist.

  “Beth! Beth, open the door. I need to speak with you, as a matter of urgency.” I don’t answer, but tiptoe to the door and turn the key in its lock.

  “Beth, open the door! Please talk to me.” He groans, and my heart is fit to burst. “Jane did not mean to be so harsh. I beg you, open the door.” A silence ensues for what feels like minutes. What do I do? Something shuffles outside.

  “Mistress, open the door. I have your food, just as you asked.” Agnes. I’d forgotten she’d gone for food. “I know you are in there!” she says, knocking on the door. Goodness, between her and George, the rest of the palace will be wondering what’s going on.

  “Mistress Wickers, has the cat got your tongue?”

  I remain silent as they continue to call my name and bang on the door. Damn it, what am I to do? I rush back through to the bedchamber and shut the door, then grab my bag of essentials and sit on the bed. Time to go. I twist the cypher ring and rub the ruby stones. What do I think of? Where do I think of? I want to go back to my time, so where’s the safest place I can return to without anyone being suspicious? Nine in the morning at home – what would be happening? Mum and Dad will have already left for work. The only thing left alone in the house will be Rutterkin, and where will he be? Probably comatose on my bed, snuggled up on my duvet.

  I’m sat in a locked bed-chamber now, so maybe I should think of my own bedroom. Yes, that’s it, my comfortable bed, with my warm duvet, and Rutterkin curled up, right in the middle of it. Eyes closed, I visualise my room and a normal university morning when I’ve got up late. Agnes and George continue banging on the door and shouting, but I mustn’t be distracted. It’s time to go home. I focus as hard as I can: bedroom, bed, duvet, Rutterkin…

  My breath catches as my mind swirls and tumbles for what feels like seconds, then everything settles and I open my eyes, look up, and see the familiar smooth, white artexing of my bedroom ceiling. Home. It worked, I’m home. I look to my right and, there, on the pillow beside me, Rutterkin is curled up in a black ball of fluff, his stomach rising and falling with each deep sleepy purr. His ears are twitching – it must be a good dream. I look down to see that I’m lying on top of my modern, crisp, clean and flea-free duvet, and I’m dressed in my mulberry gown. I’ll have to get out of that. The French hood is intact on my head, and my leather cow-mouthed shoes are still on.

  The most unimaginable headache is pounding through my head. I get up to look at myself in my wardrobe mirror and pull off my hood to reveal the little bun Agnes so neatly created at the nape of my neck. Thank you, Agnes, you looked after me so well. I grab for my linen bag and dig around the bottom of it to pull out my I-phone to recharge it. Damn it. Where is it? I wanted to check the last few photos I took. Don’t panic, it’s bound to be in here somewhere. There are a dozen shots of Anne, and Hever, and George, sleeping near the fire in Anne’s bedchamber. Then I remember, I’d left my I-phone in a bag, under Anne’s bed at Hever. Damn it!

  I sit back on my bed. This was no dream I’ve been living these last few months. These people I’d been living my life with are all real, and I will miss them so much, especially Anne. Have I messed things up with my stupid meddling? What will become of her? What will become of them all? Will I ever get back?

  Reviews for Timeless Falcon – Volume One

  ‘Omg. I loved this so much. I was super sad when I finished it. I felt as if I was there smelling all the smells, touching the fabric. Hearing the voices and all the sounds. I fell in love with all.the characters/ historical people - I didn’t want it to end. It took me back in time wishing I could touch the items, be there in person. Nothing was missing from the book, what I meant was when I finished the book I felt like I was missing a friend. I didn’t want it to end. I felt like I was missing my best friend.’ - Bethany McMahon

  ‘I just wanted to say thank you for letting me read your novel, I am so excited for you and the journey you have begun! What an accomplishment!’ – Catherine Breckinridge

  ‘A delightful story!’ – Professor Suzannah Lipscomb

  ‘A compelling and evocative retelling of Anne Boleyn’s entrance into the Tudor Court. The book is packed with historical details and insight which allows the reader to fully immerse themselves into one of the most fascinating stories of the 16th century.’ – Sarah Lane

  “A new and amazingly detailed rendering of Anne Boleyn and the Tudor court with an original twist that will leave the reader wanting more.” – Caitlin Newman

  “Timeless Falcon is just as good, if not better, than anything Gregory or Weir has written. I was hesitant about the time travel aspect, as it is so often done badly, but Vincent-Connolly does this very well. I also loved that it was a refreshing, different way of telling Anne Boleyn’s story. I started reading and couldn’t stop. Can’t wait for the next one!” – Jennifer Lynn Dulo

  Acknowledgements

  This is my second novel, but my first historical novel, which, as a trilogy, has been a long time in the writing. It began from my interest in history, years ago, with Anne Boleyn and the dramatic story of her fall, reading the likes of Jean Plaidy when I was a child of nine. My study of Anne and of history, has never diminished. I know that Anne’s life history is an interest shared by many: the crowds who visit Her Majesty’s Fortress, The Tower of London, compelled to see the supposed site of Anne’s scaffold, or visitors who flock to Hampton Court Palace where Anne stayed in triumphant days, or to Hever Castle, which was her family home for a time. The fascination with everything Anne Boleyn is evident in numerous websites on the internet. The insatiable appetite for all things relating to the Tudors, from raunchy television series to opulent films, to the Westend musicial, Six! continues unabated. I have consulted academic works and research on Anne Boleyn and personalities of the Tudor Court, by successful historians like Eric Ives, Suzannah Lipscomb, Amy Licence, Elizabeth Norton, Lauren Mackay, David Loades and others, to frame a number of real events in Anne’s life, to bring her
story around Beth to life. Primary sources are also fantastic devices to learn of historical context, and analysing sources is the closest we will get to remove the veil between these historical personalities and events, in order to conclude anything which remotely resembles any truth. The highlight of my research was looking through and holding the twenty-six pages of Anne Boleyn’s indictment of her trial, and seeing the indents in the vellum where the Duke of Norfolk had ticked the jury off with his quill as they entered the King’s Great Hall at the Tower of London. My primary research included documents from websites such as British History Online and The Archives, Kew. The icing on the cake in terms of research, was having the opportunity of being in the front row of The Aldwych Theatre, to watch Ben Miles in Hilary Mantel’s stage adaptions of ‘Wolf Hall’ and ‘Bring Up the Bodies’ – on the last night’s performance – and knowing Hilary Mantel was in the audience. What an incredible experience that was. The play was an atmospheric-inducing device, and historical aspects of the drama were thought-provoking. It is this insatiable appetite by both historians, and enthusiasts for Anne Boleyn, that compelled me to write a completely different take on her story, rather than the usual regurgitation of Anne’s story, from her point of view.

  Moreover, this is my protagonist’s story, from Beth’s point of view, which enables us to observe Anne in a different light. What would we do if we had the ability to time-travel back to the Tudor period and meet Anne? Would we behave ourselves and not tamper with history as we know it, or would we wreak havoc and try to save Anne from her well-documented downfall? These are the dilemmas that face Beth Wickers. Her story is one I felt obliged to write, and although I include primary events, it will never be close to the truth of Anne’s life, as unless we were there at the time, we would never know all the facts relating to Anne Boleyn. Furthermore, I wish to stress that although this book is loosely based on original sources, or digital archives, and academic accounts – apart from Beth and her time-travelling, of course – Beth’s character and her experiences in the Tudor period were used as an entertaining device to creatively retell Anne’s story, and is written purely for enjoyment, and to entertain.