Resurrection (28 page)

Her hunger persisted, so Jane did too. She drained her first glass of blood and accepted the second one offered. By the time she had consumed four pints, her appetite was satisfied. For the time being.

"In the early months you'll need to feed frequently." Ged took her empty glass and set it aside. "We have ample supplies here and can acquire as much blood as we need. You won't need to hunt, as I once did. Your existence will harm no one, Jane. Do you believe that?"

She met his anxious gaze, and nodded. He was, as ever, adept at tapping into her greatest fears and allaying them. "Will I be able to do the things you can? Will I know the thoughts of others? Will I be able to move about as you do?"

He nodded. "Eventually. Your powers will be forming already but to use them well you need to practice. I'll help you. So will Serena, and James. Serena taught me to teleport accurately. Before then I used to end up all over the place. You'll only be able to read the thoughts of humans, not other vampires, but still it's a useful skill. Your eyesight and hearing will already be heightened and will become even more acute over the coming weeks. You'll be stronger, be able to run faster. And," his expression became more serious, "you'll be very, very susceptible to the effects of sunlight at first so we'll need to be careful about that. This house is safe though, and we'll source some protective clothing for you when you do need to go out—to visit our daughter, for example."

Jane perked up at the mention of their baby. Perhaps, for her sake, this might all be worth it. "Can we go straight away? I am less hungry now, so—"

"Of course. Just one thing though. When we get there, I'll tell the staff you're my wife's sister and you're not to contradict me. As far as the hospital is concerned, Jane Twyfford died earlier today and they can't know that you're still alive. You do see that, don't you?"

"I think so. We do not wish them to know about us? Our kind?"

"Exactly. It would be just too awkward. These days we're unlikely to find ourselves toasting over a bonfire on the end of a pitchfork, but even so we prefer to keep our existence secret."

"Will they not recognise me? I thought that you said you took me thereafter I was injured."

"I did, but no one in the maternity unit actually saw you as far as I'm aware. Mr. Baring-Jones himself is the only one who knew the real Jane, and I doubt we'll run into him. If we do, I'll plant some notion in his head about a twin sister."

"But what about the people who did see me, before? Will they not be alarmed to see me back? Will they think I am a ghost?"

"Sweetheart, in that unlikely event, there's no way anyone would recognise the woman you are now as the same battered wreck who died in the Intensive Care Department. Your face was crushed by Cassius' hooves, love, you were covered in bandages for much of the time, and your true features were quite unrecognisable. Believe me, w
e
wil
l
pull this off."

"I... oh." For the first time, Jane began to comprehend the true nature and extent of her injuries. And with that realisation came the first glimmer of understanding the desperation that had driven Ged to override her wishes and do this thing to her. She reached for his hand. "You saved me, and I am glad of it. I think. But, I do not understand, why did you not save our baby also. She is in danger too, is she not? That picture..."

Ged frowned and took her hand. "It's not that simple, Janey. I knew that I could turn you and that you would survive, but for children, and babies especially, the transition is too dangerous, too unpredictable. It can be fatal, and that was a risk I wasn't prepared to take. Perhaps later, or if her condition deteriorates, we might think again, but right now she's in safer hands than ours."

Jane's eyes filled with tears again as she considered the precarious thread by which the life of her child was hanging. "If only I had not entered the stable. This is my fault, I caused her to be born too soon."

Ged was silent for several moments, then, "No, you didn't. At least, not directly. That was my decision."

She regarded him through her tears. "Your decision? How can that be? These matters, life and death, are in the hands of God."

"I think we've already shown that they are not, not entirely in any case. Perhaps God needs a nudge, occasionally."

"What did you do, Ged?" Jane sat up straight and raised one eyebrow in a manner she hoped would elicit an answer. "Ged, please, you are scaring me."

"I'm scaring myself. Look, sweetheart, there's no easy way to say this, so I'm going to just come right out with it. I insisted the doctors deliver the baby now, because otherwise I couldn't have turned you and you would have certainly died. I had very little time. I knew the chances of her surviving were reasonable, if not great, but it was a risk I was prepared to take to save you."

"But, if I had died as you say, she would have perished too."

Ged shook his head. "No, she wouldn't. Well, probably not. It would have been possible to keep her alive within you for at least a few more weeks, enough time for her to develop more, to grow bigger and have a better chance once she was actually born. But then I couldn't have turned you because that would have killed her. I couldn't lose you, so I made Mr. Baring-Jones bring her into the world now to give both of you a chance. So far, my gamble has paid off."

"Gamble? You mean you chose to do this thing, even knowing the likely consequences? I would not have had my life spared at the cost of hers. Surely you would know that."

"I do know that, Janey. But so far my decision hasn't cost anyone's life and I'm hoping it stays that way."

"But—"

"Enough. I did what I thought was best." He stood up, and glared down at her, his mouth twisting as though in pain. His tone was bitter as he continued. "I considered the options and I made my choices. Both of you are alive and I suggest you thank this God you insist on clinging to for that small mercy. You can do it on the way to the hospital." He turned on his heel and strode from the room.

In the clanging silence which followed, Serena stepped forward from her position by the window. She had witnessed the exchange. "He's not angry with you. He knew how you might react, but he felt he had no choice but to do this. He loves you, you see, and he couldn't bear to lose you again. But be assured, despite his certainty that he took the right decision, if your baby doesn't make it, he will always blame himself. And for us, for all of us, always is a very long time."

"I... I did not mean..."

"I know that. So does Ged. But instead of angry words and recrimination, instead of blaming yourselves or each other, you should be strong right now, and stand together for your little girl." She paused, allowing Jane ample time to reflect. "You have a visit to make. So, shall I help you to dress?"

Jane nodded. Almost as soon as the words were out she was ashamed of her outburst and wanted nothing more than to run to find Ged, tell him she was sorry, beg him to spank her or whatever he needed to do to make this right. Instead, she stood, docile, while Serena found clothes and assisted her into them.

Ged was waiting in the car when Jane came downstairs. Luckily it was dark outside so she need not worry unduly about the effects of sunlight, but Serena reminded her anyway as she left the house.

"I apologise." Ged blurted the words to her the moment she got in the passenger seat. "I should never have said that to you. You've every right to be angry."

Jane stared at her hands, twisting them in her lap. "No, I do not. I was shocked, frightened by what has happened, more frightened still by what might yet happen, but I spoke without thinking. It is you who must forgive me, Sir. I know that you had our best interests at heart. Mine… and Mary's."

"Mary?"

She turned to him, a soft smile on her face. "I wondered if we might name our little girl after my sister, Sir. Though if you have another name you prefer, perhaps Mary could be her middle name."

"No, I haven't any other name in mind. Mary sounds very suitable. So, shall we go?"

"Yes, please."

"She's grown so much. Look, Ged. She's still so tiny, but see the way she grips my hand."

Ged grinned at his wife as she rocked the tiny baby on her knees. Mary was still hooked up to a tube in her nose, but the rest of her artificial support system had been removed little by little over the weeks. This little scrap of humanity clung to her life even more tenaciously than he did himself. He was proud of her, of her strength and determination, not to mention her delicate beauty. She looked so fragile, but he sensed a steeliness within her that would stand her in good stead in the years to come. He adored their child every bit as much as Janey did, and hoped that some day she would agree to the turning. For Ged that would make his idyllic existence complete, but ultimately it had to be Mary's choice.

"She's doing that because she's concentrating hard on filling her nappy." Ged peered into the intent little face and wondered not for the first time how he ever got so lucky.

The baby stared back at him in that unselfconscious manner peculiar to the very young. Her perfect mouth pursed in a strained smile, her eyes were unfocused but followed his movements as he came closer. He dropped a kiss on her forehead, then drew back, his nose wrinkling. "Phew, your turn."

Jane crooned to the little one as she removed the dirty nappy and cleaned the baby up, then wrapped a fresh one around her. They were still using the special minuscule nappies provided by the hospital. Mary might have doubled her birth weight, but she still weighed less than two bags of sugar. She was healthy though, and strong. That was all that mattered.

"You'll have to make sure he does his share when she comes home." Abigail came back into the special care unit carrying a pile of towels. She deposited her bundle on a side table then came to check the monitors and the chart which was suspended from the end of Mary's cot. "Won't be long now."

"Really?" Janey's face was transformed, lit by a beaming smile. "How long do you believe—?"

"Within a week or so, I'd say. The obstetric consultant does her rounds later and you can ask her."

"Ged, did you hear that. Our little girl is coming home."

"Certainly sounds like it."

Thank fuck for a fifty-fifty chance.

It was another ten days before they finally exited the hospital with Mary strapped in her baby carrier. Jane sat in the back of the car with the baby. Ged drove like a ninety year old and grimaced at every little bump in the road. Mary slept the entire journey.

James and Serena were waiting for them at Roseworth, both standing on the doorstep as the car crawled along the graveled driveway.

Ged helped Jane to extract the car seat from its fastenings, then carried it indoors as though it was made of the most delicate and fragile porcelain. Of course, this burden was far more precious than that. He deposited the seat on the floor in the centre of the lounge and all four of them stood around and stared at it.

"Why are we all standing here?" ventured James.

"Don't know about you, but I think I'm just waiting for the real owners to show up." Ged reached for Jane and hugged her close. "Are you sure it's not too soon?"

"No." She reached up to kiss him. "This is exactly the right time."

Leicester Cathedral,

26 March 2015

Jane gazed about her in wonder at the manmade grove of creamy white roses and sweet-scented broom. Richard would have approved. He was always a man to appreciate pageantry and symbolism, and this day was short of neither. She reached for Ged's hand and laced her fingers between his.

"Thank you for getting tickets. I cannot believe we are actually here." She murmured the words for his ears alone. It would not do to disrupt the reverent hush which permeated this place and this solemn occasion.

Her husband bowed his head to whisper in her ear. "Wouldn't have missed it for the world."

"It is right that there should be someone here who actually knew him. And loved him."

"Of course. And I suspect this funeral is a vast improvement on the first attempt."

"It is not a funeral. It is a reinterment."

"And the difference is?"

Jane shrugged. "I am not certain, Sir. I suppose it is because Richard already had a funeral after Bosworth."

Ged squeezed her fingers between his. "Probably, though it can't have been much of an affair. Seems like splitting hairs which are already quite narrow enough to me." He cast his gaze around the cathedral in Leicester, the venue for this historic event. "I've been to a few state funerals in my time, and this is as lavish as any."

"I told you, it is not—"

"Yeah, yeah, not a funeral. Do you suppose Mary's all right?"

Now it was Jane's turn to squeeze his hand. "She'll be fine. And Auntie Serena is in her element. It was so good of her and James to come over specially from New York and look after our baby for us."

"True. Even so, perhaps I should phone and check."

"You shall do no such thing, Sir. Phones are not allowed in here, and anyway, you are fussing. Mary is being waited upon hand and foot as it is."

"I'm entitled to fuss. She's my daughter."

"Mine too. And this
i
s
the first time we've left her with anyone." Jane paused to reconsider. "Perhaps we could just nip outside..."

"Too late. We're off." A fanfare of trumpets caused Jane and Ged, along with the rest of the congregation, to turn their heads and witness the entrance of the coffin. As they watched in silence the remains of Richard III were carried slowly down the aisle of the ancient cathedral on the shoulders of six military bearers. Heads bowed as he passed. The assembled guests included many in military uniforms, the ubiquitous black or navy suits, academic gowns, chains of office. Some wore the silver boar badge that Jane well recalled was Richard's emblem. Many of the ladies, including Jane, sported white rose brooches and flamboyant hats. This was indeed a momentous occasion, surreal even, and one unlikely to ever be repeated.

Jane knew, because Ged had pointed them out to her, that the guests included the current Duke of Gloucester and the Duke of Norfolk. Sophie, countess of Wessex, whose husband was a younger son of the current Queen, represented the British monarchy. She was amused to see two Yeoman Warders from the Tower of London, both wearing uniforms which had not changed as far as she could tell from Richard's time, guarding the entrance to the cathedral. Perhaps they believed that even now Henry Tudor and his Lancastrian hordes might attempt to batter down the doors.

The congregation watched and listened in reverent, respectful silence as the proceedings opened. A tall, dark man, an actor she gathered who was apparently a descendant of Richard's, strode to the front of the cathedral to recite a poem. The service continued, and Jane was moved to tears when the Queen's personal message was read out. The Richard she knew, the man in whose household she had found protection and friendship, was no longer to be remembered as a wicked murderer, a blight on the royal line. Instead he was recognised as a King who lived through turbulent times and whose Christian faith sustained him in life and death.

This at least Jane knew to be true. Richard was deeply religious and he would have loathed the hasty, improvised funeral he had endured the first time around, the unmarked grave in soil no longer consecrated, in the grounds of a friary now long gone. This was right, this was appropriate. This was no less than he deserved and long overdue.

Jane gasped when the Duke of Gloucester, cousin to the current Queen and the present holder of Richard's title before he became king, stepped forward to lay a small book near the foot of the coffin.

"I know that book. I have seen it before many, many times. It is Richard's own prayer book. He was never without it."

"I know. I remember it too,“ murmured Ged. “It was found in the King's tent at Bosworth, after the battle. I gather it's on loan from Lambeth Palace for the day."

"It should be buried with him." Jane was indignant. "It belonged to the King and is his right."

"Let it go, love. We can't right all the wrongs of history and at least Richard's memory is being properly honoured now. Let the Duke keep his prayer book. He's taken good care of it so far, after all."

Jane snorted under her breath, far from persuaded.

The service concluded. The six army veterans who had carried him down the aisle lifted the coffin again to take the King to his final resting place, a tomb specially constructed within the cathedral. The Archbishop of Canterbury sprinkled it with holy water as the coffin passed him. Many of the guests wept as the King once again departed, though on this occasion with all the pomp and dignity he deserved. The bishop of Leicester was right, Jane reflected, when he told the guests that for a brief time the King had stepped back out of the pages of history to be once more a real human being. It seemed to her that through Richard’s brief reemergence the record was being set straight, and now her dear friend might rest in peace.

She hoped so. It was about time.

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