The Boleyn Effect (The Boleyn Ending)

by Deborah. C. Foulkes

  ‘She will not be referred to by any other, but honestly a name is the least of her worries.’

  Nausea starts to pull at his stomach as they weave through the clinical corridor, stopping at a group of chairs. Holding out his hand a small one fills his causing tears to sting his eyes. He’d give anything for everything to be different. For him not to bring her into such a place. Dark brown eyes look at him and he shudders. Her eyes. This little girl looking up at him is the image of her mother and it still wrenches at his heart.

  What would he tell her in the future when she asked about her mother? He didn’t have the answers. Not the ones he was brave enough to tell. All he could say was that she was made with love. Because despite what transpired, he had loved her mother deeply and she no doubt loved him just as much. It was just others got in the way.

  Finally, they reach the door and Harry squeezes his daughter’s hand. This was it. No turning back. She had demanded to see her daughter after four years and the doctors were not convinced it would help, but here they were. The door opens and there she is sitting in a pure white shift and her dark hair tied back. Almost nun like. The thought makes him smile for a moment. There is nothing nun like about the woman sitting in that room.

  The moment he’d opened the contract sent to him was the moment he knew the woman who’d captured his heart was in a plot to ruin him. She’d begged him to stay. Told him that she was pregnant. Another lie, he was sure. But then from then on everything changed. Katherine in the flat pointing a gun at him and shooting.

  As he lay on the floor he heard everything and realised that not only he, but Leigh had been played. All so his wife could get her hands on her father’s money. When the police had arrived, Leigh had been found with the gun crouched in a corner muttering. The start of her decline.

  Of course during the medical tests it was discovered that she was pregnant, Harry had done everything he could to make sure she had everything she needed. All while his wife, best friend and son were all convicted for attempted murder. Harry had never known himself be in such a dark and lonely place. He’d blamed himself for everything. Depression consumed him. The only light to emerge was the day Leigh went into labour.

  Due to her emotional and mental condition a caesarean was opted for. He stood there as a pink ball of feistiness was handed to him and he fell in love. Leigh had been silent throughout the delivery, but as he turned to leave she spoke one name and it caused him to rush out and vomit. He hated it, but he felt compelled to allow Leigh one thing. But he chose to shorten it for his in comfort. Now that name leaves her lips as Leigh turns to see their daughter.

  ‘Elizabeth.’

  Harry could feel the tiny hand gripping tightly onto his. Seeing a scowl darken the Leigh’s face he went down on bended knee.

  ‘Beth, sweetheart. Remember what we talked about. This is your mother. Now go and say hello.’

  ‘Okay Daddy.’

  Unease fills him as he watches his daughter go to her mother. His body ready to snap into action if needed. Leigh reaches out and touches Elizabeth’s cheek and Harry flexes his fingers to ease the tension there.

  ‘You’ve grown so much,’ Leigh says. ‘She is beautiful.’

  Leigh lifts her eyes to his and again he shudders. Those same dark eyes still hold some magic and power.

  ‘I’m going to have a baby brother soon,’ Beth exclaims.

  Leigh stiffens at her words causing Harry to take a step forward.

  ‘Is that right?’ she says.

  Beth now nods enthusiastically not realising the possible danger. She’s just excited about being a big sister.

  ‘Mummy says I can give him a name and I think Edward is nice.’

  Now Leigh gets to her feet and eyes Harry up evenly.

  ‘Take her away.’

  Breathing a sigh of relief, Harry grabs Beth and pushes her out the door where a nurse waits.

  ‘I just need a minute more.’

  The nurse nods as he closes the door. Turning towards Leigh his heart leaps once more as tears fall down her face.

  ‘So you married Jayne, Henry?’

  Teeth clenched he hates it when she calls him that. The sign of her madness and why she’s here.

  ‘She is good to us both,’ he states.

  ‘Is she as good as I was to you?’ she asks.

  Moving closer to him, he can feel every part of him stiffening. Damn it! How does she do that to him even now?

  ‘Does she play the games that we used to play?’

  ‘No one can ever be like you,’ he answers diplomatically.

  Looking down at her, he can see a spark of the woman she once was. The Leigh, he’d met all those years ago. The young woman with so much life inside her. With her head tilted up, it’s an open invitation, but he can’t allow her to seduce him again. Not when he will just get his heart broken once more. He has to remember why he’s here. The real reason for her letter and request to see Beth.

  Reaching in his pocket he pulls out the hidden gift wrapped in a handkerchief and pushes it into her hand. She looks down at it and frowns before looking back up.

  ‘I have one more thing to ask,’ she says.

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Make love to me one last time. Just like in the old days. I can feel you want me still.’

  Harry steps back and shakes his head.

  ‘I can’t. I’m married. I love my wife.’

  ‘But you loved me too didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then say it. Tell me you loved me too.’

  Tears now run like streams down her face and it takes all he has not to pull her into his arms and give her the one last wish.

  ‘I loved you, Anne.’

  Leigh watches as Harry leaves her sanctuary. Her heart hurts with a mixture of grief and relief. He did love her. Love her enough to bring what she needed. The descent into madness had saved her from being dragged down with the others, but she’d become a prisoner is so many other ways. She was alone in here. George had proved how much of a coward he truly was and had taken his life. Her family had disowned her. She was dead to them all, all while Harry lived with his pretty new wife and her daughter. Now she couldn’t cope with that any more.

  Anne Boleyn had grown from historical figure to someone that shaped everything about Leigh. Now she was going to do the queen proud and finish it.

  Opening the handkerchief the clean silver blade looked small in her hand. But it was sharp. Harry would have made sure it was sharp. Her letter to him had merely stated

  ‘Give me what Henry gave Anne. Do me the honour he did her.’

  She would now be able to finish the story started by George nearly five years ago. A challenge that she could do just as Boleyn had done. She’d followed his guide and now she was alone it was time to finish it. Death by a clean and pure blade just like Anne Boleyn without the man or king she loved.

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