Blood Ties

Love Reincarnated

Part 9: The Letter B

Part 9:

Modern day Toronto was as busy as ever; high above the noise, Henry Fitzroy sat back from his desk. Had he still been human he would have been exhausted. But he hadn't been human in five centuries; so he was grinning as he crossed his arms and smiled at his work.

This evening found him finished yet another book. He picked up a random page and laughed softly. He had drawn William with a fierce look on his face as he challenged the young prince to a duel. He missed William; the young man had been courageous and loyal and he had loved Jean-Rene.

Henry picked up another page; his face softened at the artistic impression of his lover. The gardens around her seemed to hold her in their embrace as she stood looking into the distance; one hand outstretched as if reading for something unseen. She was so beautiful to him; even on paper.

The shrill of his cell phone interrupted his musings. Henry put the pages down and picked up the cell. He was expecting Vicky not his publisher.
"Margie," He listened to her for a few minutes, "I realize that you don't work nights." He smiled at her words, "Well you'll be happy to know the next instalment is finished. I just completed the last few frames tonight."

He frowned and shook his head, rising from the desk. "You know I don't do daytime interviews." He walked to the living room. "I don't care if it's Oprah asking. I don't do daytime anything." Henry sat in the couch and stared at the black television screen. "I appreciate that; I am glad that the books are selling so well; but my rules are set in stone."

Henry paused as he heard Correen and Jean-Rene step off the elevator. Jean-Rene laughed softly as they neared the door.

"I'll send you the pages tonight, Margie. Tell them I do nights only, no exceptions. That's what I pay you for." He hung up.

Henry stood as the front door unlocked and opened. Every time he saw her his heart tightened with love; his spirits soared and he felt overwhelmed by the urge to hug her and say he loved her. He didn't stop himself from appearing at her side and sweeping her into her arms.

Jean-Rene was startled as she was suddenly swept into the air and twirled about. It took her a moment to realize it was Henry. The intensity with which he kissed her surprised her. It was as though he were a starving man and she was food. He slowly ended the kiss but kept his arms around her.

"Henry, what..?"

He kissed her again, holding her face in his hands, "I love you, Jean-Rene." He whispered the next words in French, "I love you."

She smiled answering him in French, "I know. And I love you."

Correen loudly cleared her throat. The two of them looked at her; she wiggled her eye brows at them. "Should I put my headphones on?"

Henry laughed softly; caressing Jean-Rene's cheek with hi s lips. "I think she should."

Jean-Rene laughed as Henry pulled her toward the bedroom. "What has gotten into you?"

Henry kicked the door shut and gently pushed her to the bed. He jumped on her, ravishing with his mouth. She laughed happily throwing her arms around him as he pulled her clothes off.

"You do realize we did this already?" She asked, her voice amused.

"They say practice makes perfect." Henry raised himself up on his arms. His long curls obscuring his face. Jean-Rene swept the hair away from his face; staring into his blue eyes.

"You are perfect, Henry."

He knew the words were honest. He gave her a bold grin, "I am aware of that but I still think we should practice as much as humanly possible."

Jean-Rene smiled at him, "As you wish, Your Grace."

**

Correen jumped when Henry put his hand on her shoulder. Pulling off her headphones she looked at him, "Henry?"

"Come on," He handed her coat, "I need your input on something."

Correen was instantly curious, "Sure. What about Jean-Rene?"

"Let her sleep for now." Henry went to the door and opened it. The two of the left the apartment.

Jean-Rene woke and knew that Henry had left; the place felt different without him. She took her time getting dressed and sat at his work desk. He had yet to package his latest work for the editor. She glanced over the images and all of them were familiar. She paused at the sight of her brother William. Her heart ached at the image of him; she missed him.

Without warning she started to cry. Jean-Rene huddled in Henry's chair and wept; holding the image of her brother in her hand.

Flashback

William reined in his horse as he stared up at the grand country house. His father had not bothered to come on this trip. But George had decided to accompany him. Both men were here to see their female siblings.

"Well?" George Boelyn caught up to William, "Not bad for a country home."

William glanced at the young man, "Not bad for a French country home, you mean."

George shrugged as he nodded, "There is that."

William laughed with his friend as they entered the courtyard. Two servants were waiting and took the horses once the men dismounted. William breathed deeply and felt something him rejoice at being here. He was French after all; this was his mother's country. The English side of him didn't much like being here; but he ignored that part of him for the time being.

"William come on," George grabbed his friend's arm and hauled him into the country house. "Do you suppose your sister will remember me?"

"I don't know. Annette is being courted by someone else."

George shoved him, "I don't mean the younger one. I mean Jean-Rene."

William frowned, "What?"

He stared at the young man for a long time before shaking his head. "George she is not like most women. It will take something very...special to make her notice you."

George gave him a droll look, "I am George Boelyn! Who could resist me?"

William sighed as his friend headed further into the house. He followed his friend. "I'd expect a comment like that from Charles Brandon but not you. Perhaps you have been spending too much time with him."

George glanced at him, "You're just jealous."

"Not even close to it."

William shook his head and decided to go in search of his sisters. He turned left and went down a narrow hallway. In the distance he could hear soft harp music playing and a beautiful voice. He knew who was singing even before he stepped outside. The warm sun painted her in gold light as the maid sat on a smooth stone and plucked a small harp. Her black curls shielded her from view as her voice carried to Wiliam's ears. She wore a pale pink gown in the French style. William spotted her bare feet and smiled to himself. Such an innocent thing was taboo and she knew it. He loved her for it.

"Jeanne?"

The music stopped suddenly; her head lifted. "Will!" She set the harp on the ground and ran to him. He caught her and swung her around once.

"We should not do that," He said as he laughed, "It is not proper anymore."

"Oh, stop that. You are my brother!" She hugged him, "And I have missed you so."

"And I you; father sends his love." William stepped back from her, in case someone saw them.

She frowned at his words and returned to the seat she had before, "Does he?"

"Yes, you know he cares for you."

She said nothing, picking the harp from the ground she stared at it for a few minutes. "I heard that Lady Joan died;" Jean-Rene glanced at her brother, "I am sorry. I know you loved her."

William nodded stiffly, "Her death was very hard for me." He moved to the nearby rose bush, staring at the red and white blooms. "Thomas also sends his love to you and hopes that you keep up with your studies."

Jean-Rene sighed, "I do what I can."

"Tell me, brother. What brings you to France?"

William glanced at her, "I wanted to see you. It has been years."

She nodded, "So this has nothing to do with politics?"

"No." William plucked a rose and crossed to his sister; he handed it to her. "I do not play their game."

"But you are friends with the Duke of Richmond. You must have some skills." She took the rose and inhaled it's heady scent. "Thank you for the flower."

William knelt beside her, grasping her free hand n his. "Jean-Rene I am friends with Henry but I do not attend his father's court. I spend most of my days at Henry's house in the country."

"Does the Duke not attend court?"

"Very rarely, Queen Katherine does not approve of him."

Jean-Rene pursed her lips, "But he is the future king. What say does she have over it?"

"The Queen is a wonderful lady; I hope one day you can meet her and see for yourself." William kissed her hand and stood. "Now, shall we go riding? Or have you forgotten how to do that?"

Jean-Rene looked up at him, "This is France, brother. We ride very well here."

William had to race to keep up to his sister as their horses galloped across the country side. He had not expected her to be fast. The wind whipped at his face and he wondered how she was faring. He could se her long curls flying wildly around her head. Her gown billowing out as her mount charged onward.

He saw their home in the distance. His sister continued her speedy trek and showed no signs of stopping. Wiliam urged his horse forward.

The two of them reined their horses in just moments before entering the grounds. William saw George speaking to a beautiful woman. They both looked started at the noisy and chaotic arrival. Jean-Rene swung her leg over the horses neck and slid to the ground. Her face was flushed a rosy color and her hair was a mess. She ran to the woman and hugged her.

William slid off his horse and caught Geroge's eye. The young man crossed to him. "Are you well, Wililam. You look a bit worn."

"Riding with her is a formidable task. She is wild."

George clapped William on the back, "Let me guess, it takes a special man to keep up."

"Something like that." William pulled off his gloves and ran his hands through his hair. "Who is that she is talking too?"

"My sister Anne." George led William over and the two women faced them. "Dear sister, meet my good friend William. He is Sir Edward's eldest son."

Anne curtsied, "Sir."

"Lady Anne, I hope we did not frighten you with our entrance."

"No, not at all."

Jean-Rene grasped Anne's hand, "Anne is a very accomplished horsewoman too. She is so talented at so many wonderful things."

Anne looked away at the praise, "You shouldn't boast so much, Jean-Rene."

"What does it matter?" Jean-Rene hugged her friend, "You have so much greatness to you Anne, the few words of praise I sing are nothing. One day, you'll see people you'll be remembered by everyone."

Anne shook her head, "Such things are not what I want."

Jean-Rene smiled at her, "Give it time, perhaps if you meet the right man, and he offers you the world, you might take it."

"This coming from you?" Anne glanced at her friend, "You don't even notice men."

Jean-Rene nodded, "I haven't found one that is man enough for me."

"The King of France seems to think he is. It's not wise to refuse him again."

"Well, perhaps it is not a king I want," Jean-Rene looked at Anne, staring into her blue eyes and smiling softly, "I would be happy with a lowly page, if he could love me enough to keep me."

Anne squeezed her hand, "One cannot keep the wind and you my friend are much like the wind."

"If I am wind then you are fire. Perhaps that is why we are such good friends"

Anne laughed gently, "Perhaps."

George nudged William and gave him a look. William shrugged. "Well, we should go in and get dressed for dinner."

End of flashback

Jean-Rene stood up from Henry's desk and went to stare out the windows. She had not thought of Anne Boelyn in a very long time. The woman was famous; just as Jean-Rene had suggested she would. But this modern world did not know the real woman; only the legend. Anne had been so afraid of her father's plans; she had often wished for something different. So few people had ever listened when she spoke of her true wishes. But then; no one encouraged her in that. It was her father's wish that Anne capture Henry VIII. There would be no other man or plot.

Flashback

The hour was late; it was near dawn. The carriage rattled nosily in the quiet air. Servants rushed out to greet it. No one came here anymore; so it was s surprise. The cloaked figure had rushed from the carriage and into the house; ignoring the servants the figure had rushed up the stairs to the most distant room in the house.

Jean-Rene was awake; she did not sleep much anymore. The fireplace was ablaze and it threw orange light against the shadows. Candles fluttered as the door opened and shut in a quick motion. The cloaked figure paused in the middle of the room. Jean-Rene slowly rose from her chair at the desk; folding her hands in front of her.

"Not many people know I am here." Jean-Rene told the figure, "I only told my brother."

A slim, gloved hand reached up to the hood and pulled it back. The woman's face was breathtaking. Her beauty was remarkable; but the sadness in her eyes made you want to weep.

"I had to see you." The woman loosened the great cloak and shrugged it off. Her gown was black with pearls and rubies sewn on. Silver threads formed an elegant pattern across the gown.

"Your majesty," Jean-Rene curtsied out of respect for the woman in front of her.

"Jean-Rene, don't. Please, I didn't come here as the Queen of England."

Jean-Rene rose and looked at her, "Then why are you, Anne?"

"I heard of your heartbreak. Your brother grieves with you. Indeed he is the one who told me of your location."

Jean-Rene nodded, "I know. How is your brother, Goerge?"

"Well enough, he still speaks of you." Anne glanced around at the simple and small space. "is there nothing I can say to convince you to come back to court?"

Jean-Rene shook her head, "No, your Highness. I am finished with it."

Anne crossed to her and put her arms around the woman. "To love them is painful, I know."

Jean-Rene hugged the queen, "I know you do."

"They do not realize what it costs us to do it." Anne gently held her face in her hands. "You must not believe what they tell you. I know it is hard." Anne paused, her gaze darkening as she thought to herself. "But know this, for as long as he loved you, he loved you completely."

Jean-Rene smiled at her, "I am aware of that. And I believe he still does."

Anne kissed her on the forehead. "I should have heeded your words all those years ago in France. There is much I should have listened to, especially from you."

"Don't say such things, Anne. You had no choice in the beginning and now, well, once you love it never leaves you."

Anne let her go and sighed; she moved to the desk and stood there for a moment; her hands resting on the surface. "I don't even know when I loved him; I just know I do."

"Yes, the two men have that effect. It just kind of comes out of nowhere."

Anne turned away and crossed back to the door; she put on her cloak, pausing as she lifted the hood. "He is going to kill me, Jean-Rene."

The woman nodded, "And I am sorry for that."

Anne smiled sadly, "if I see Henry I will tell him you are waiting."

Jean-Rene smiled, "I look forward to seeing you again, my friend."

And with that the Queen of England, once her closest friend, left. That was the last time Jean-Rene ever saw Anne Boelyn alive. It was only later that Jean-Rene discovered the item Anne had left behind.

End of Flashback

The next time she saw the woman it was in a portrait in a museum almost two hundred years later. And the world had distorted her story to the point where Jean-Rene barely knew her.

Turning away from the windows, she went back to the bedroom and closed the door. Sitting at the bed she pulled out her backpack and opened one of the inside pockets. Carefully she withdrew a small velvet pouch. Setting the backpack aside she held the velvet pouch in her hand and carefully unwrapped it. The dim light of the bedroom glinted off the faded metal surface. The pearls were chipped and showed signs of age and wear. But despite that it was still a beautiful piece.

Jean-Rene held the necklace to her lips and kissed it. "Anne, I hope you are well."

She sat staring at the string of pearls that held the gold letter B. Anne had worn this constantly in France and for a while, in England. She had left it for her friend that night she came to visit.

Every life that Jean-Rene had memories of Henry and Anne; she would search out the necklace. It had gone from one private historical collection to the other for the last few centuries. Until ending up in an obscure antique shop in Surrey England. Jean-Rene had found the shop on her travels. She had found the necklace in a small wooden box high on a shelf in the back of the store. The owner had no idea what it was and had charged her a few dollars.

Jean-Rene knew the gold letter was original; perhaps reinforced a few times; but it was still the same one as Anne had worn. The pearls had been restrung; they weren't the originals, but it didn't matter. It was the same necklace and it was all Jean-Rene had left to remember her friend by.

She sat on the bed and let her mind wander as far back as it wanted.

**