A Knight in Shining Armor Read online

  Once seated on the train and it started to move, Nicholas’s eyes bulged at the speed. But, after a few nervous moments, like a true Englishman, he adjusted to the speed and began to walk around. He studied the ads high up on the walls, smiling in delight at one for Colgate, recognizing the toothpaste she’d purchased. If he could recognize words, perhaps it wouldn’t be so difficult to teach him to read, she thought.

  In Bristol, they changed trains. Nicholas was aghast at the number of hurrying people in the station, and he was fascinated with the ornate Victorian ironwork. She purchased a fat guidebook to the great houses of southern England at the newsstand, and on the ride to Bath, she started to read to Nicholas about his houses that were now in ruins. But when she saw that hearing of such waste and destruction made him sad, she stopped reading.

  He looked out the big windows and now and then would say, “There’s William’s house,” or “Robin lives there,” when he saw one of the enormous houses that dotted the English countryside almost as frequently as did the cows and sheep.

  Bath, beautiful, beautiful Bath, was a wonder to Nicholas. To Dougless it was old, since the architecture was all eighteenth century, but to him it was very modern. Dougless thought that New York or Dallas with its steel and glass buildings would look like outer space to him. He would act as though they looked weird, she corrected herself, then noticed that she was correcting herself less often with each hour she spent with him.

  They had lunch at an American-type sandwich shop, and Dougless ordered club sandwiches, potato salad, and iced tea for both of them. He thought the meal was tasty but lacking in quantity. It took some fast talking, but Dougless managed to drag him out of the restaurant before he started demanding a boar’s head or whatever.

  He was so fascinated with the crescent-shaped rows of houses in Bath that Dougless hated to get a taxi and take him out of town. But getting into an automobile took Nicholas’s mind off the buildings. The taxi drivers in England are a different breed from those in America. English drivers don’t yell when someone takes “too long” to get into a car, so Nicholas was given time to look at the vehicle. He examined the door and the door lock, opening and closing it three times before getting in, and once in, after examining the backseat, he leaned forward and watched the driver steer and shift gears.

  When they arrived at Bellwood, the next tour didn’t start for half an hour, so they had time to walk around the gardens. Dougless thought they were beautiful, but Nicholas curled his lip and barely looked at the flowering plants and the ancient shade trees. When he walked around the big, sprawling house, he told her what had been added to the house and what had been changed. He thought the additions were architecturally dreadful and minced no words in telling her so.

  “Is the treasure buried in the garden?” she asked, annoyed at herself for asking; she sounded like an excited child.

  “Ruin a garden by putting gold at the roots of my plants?” he asked in mock horror.

  “By the way, where did you put your money? Where did they put their money, I mean?”

  Nicholas clearly didn’t understand her question—or didn’t want to—so she dropped it. Since the gardens seemed to be making him angry, she led him to the gift shop, and for a while, he was happy in the shop. He played with the pens and some plastic change purses, and he laughed aloud when he first saw a tiny flashlight with “Bellwood” stamped on it. But he didn’t like the postcards, and Dougless couldn’t figure out what had so upset him about them.

  He removed a tote bag with a silk-screened photo of Bellwood on the front from a rack. “You will need one of these,” he said, smiling; then he leaned forward and whispered, “For the treasure.”

  Dougless did her best not to look thrilled at his words. As calmly as she could, she carried the tote bag and the flashlight to the register, where she paid for them and tickets for the next tour. She tried again to look at the postcards, but Nicholas would not let her. Every time she got near the rack, he forcibly clamped his strong fingers on her arm and pulled her away.

  When the next tour was called, Dougless and Nicholas followed a dozen other tourists into the house. To Dougless’s eyes, the interior of the house looked like a set for a play about Elizabeth the First. The walls were paneled in dark oak, there were Jacobean chairs scattered about as well as carved chests, and armor was hanging on the wall.

  “Is this more like what you’re used to?” Dougless whispered up to Nicholas.

  There was an expression of disgust on his handsome face; his upper lip curled upward. “This is not my house,” he said in distaste. “That what I did should come to this is most unpleasing.”

  Dougless thought the place was beautiful, but didn’t say so because the guide had started her lecture. It was her experience that English tour guides were excellent and knew their subject thoroughly. The woman was telling the history of the house, built as a castle in 1302, by the first Stafford.

  Nicholas was quiet as she spoke—until she came to Henry the Eighth’s time.

  “A medieval woman was the chattel of her husband,” their guide said, “to be used as her husband saw fit. Women had no power.”

  Nicholas snorted loudly. “My father told my mother she was his property—once.”

  “Sssh,” Dougless hissed, not wanting to be embarrassed by him.

  They moved to a small, oak-paneled room where the darkness was oppressive. “Candles were very expensive,” the guide was saying, “so medieval man lived his life in gloom.”

  Nicholas again started to speak, but Dougless frowned at him to be quiet. “Stop complaining, and, by the way, where’s your treasure?” she asked.

  “I cannot seek treasure now. I must hear how your world thinks of mine,” he said. “Pray tell me why your people think we had no mirth?”

  “With all the plague and big pox and small, plus trips to the barber to have your teeth torn out, we think you didn’t have time for fun.”

  “We made use of the time we had,” he said as the group moved into another room. As soon as they entered, Nicholas opened a door concealed in the paneling, and as soon as he did, a loud buzzer went off. Dougless slammed the door shut, then gave a weak smile of apology to the tour guide, whose quelling look made her feel like a child caught with her hand in a cookie jar.

  “Behave!” Dougless hissed at him. “If you want to leave, I’m ready.” His actions were embarrassing, and she feared that he just might start telling the guide that he had built this house, and he had lived here.

  But Nicholas didn’t want to leave. He followed the guide through room after room, snorting now and then in derision, but saying nothing.

  “We now come to our most popular room,” the guide said, and by the little smile she gave, her audience knew something amusing was coming up.

  Nicholas, being taller, saw into the room before Dougless did. “We will leave now,” he said stiffly, but he said it in a way that made Dougless very much want to see what was in the room.

  The guide began to speak. “This was Lord Nicholas Stafford’s private chamber, and, to put it politely, Lord Nicholas was what is known as a rake. As you can see, he was a very handsome man.”

  When she heard that, Dougless pushed her way through the group to the front. There, hanging over the mantel, was a portrait of Lord Nicholas Stafford—her Nicholas. He was dressed just as she’d first seen him, wearing the beard and mustache she’d first seen, and he was just as handsome then as he was now.

  Of course he wasn’t the same man, Dougless told herself, but she was willing to admit that the man she knew had to be a descendant.

  The guide, smiling at what she felt was an amusing story, began to tell of Lord Nicholas’s exploits with various ladies. “It was said that no woman could withstand his charm once he set his mind to have her, so his enemies were concerned that if he went to court, he might seduce the young and beautiful Queen Elizabeth.”

  Dougless felt Nicholas’s fingers biting into her shoulder. “I will take you to the t