Her eyes fluttered open. She is back from the dark abyss and yet... With a raspy voice, she spoke. "Charles Brandon, the Duke of Suffolk. What are you doing in my chamber?" Looking around she grew nervous. None of this looks familiar to her. Where is she and why is she here? Tears welled up in her eyes. Oh, God! Her mind is blank. What is wrong with her? Her breathing turned heavy and ragged. All she can hear is the beating of her heart and blood rushing into her ears. Panic began to set in. She clutched at the bedsheets.
Trying not to freak out himself, Charles was again at a loss. He turned his head to the doorway and his eyes begged her father to intervene. Which he did. Striding back into the room, Henry came to his daughter's aid. When her arms reached out for him, his heart broke. Gathering her gently to his side, he spoke in a calming tone. "Dearest, what is the matter? What can I do for you?"
With a dry, shaky voice Mary inquired "Where am I? Has something happened to me that I'm not in Ludlow anymore? And why can't I remember anything?" Her body trembled as she wept onto his side.
Both Charles and Henry were at a loss. Finding words, Henry kissed his daughter's forehead. When he did finally speak he declared "The Duke is going to go fetch the doctor and we'll get this all straightened out. Just lie still. Don't jostle your wounds." He made to get up and talk to Charles, but his daughter held him.
"Please Daddy. Don't leave me." Her voice sounded so weak, so frail, so frightened that it gutted him. And so he stayed put and motioned for Charles to go.
He did not want to leave his wife's side, but he did. He sent William to get Doctor Pearce, then poured himself a glass of wine and waited for the doctor. The whole time he tried not to think about what is happening to his sweetheart's mind. Instead, he tried to focus on the fact she is awake.
When Doctor Pearce and Edmund arrived they immediately went into the bed-chamber. It seemed like forever, but finally, they emerged. The two physicians waited for the King to appear and when he did, leaving Joan inside with Mary, the doctor began a lengthy explanation.
"First it is good to note that Her Ladyship does not have paralysis, nor any nerve damage. Her back aches, though, but that I expected. Her ribs ache but are mending. Her wrist is not swollen anymore but is tender. However now an unexpected consequence has popped up. She has what academia calls amnesia." He saw everyone in the room look puzzled.
So he continued. "As I said before, Her Highness took a terrible fall. She had a traumatic event happen. The brain has to heal itself and by doing that she now has amnesia, where the mind has blocked off certain life events. It's like the mind has put her life into boxes and those boxes have been sealed off. There is good news and bad news here." He looked to the Duke, who was pouring another glass of wine, and told him "One for me if you please."
Charles poured himself and the doctor a glass of fresh wine. He's going to need it to get through this amnesia. This good news and bad news business.
After being handed the drink, Doctor Pearce took a sip. Upon swallowing it down and cleansing his pallet, he spoke some more. "The good news is that it's possible for the amnesia to resolve on its own as the brain heals itself. The bad news is there's no way of knowing how long that will take." Turning to Edmund he communicated "Edmund do you remember that case in the brain class at the university?
Edmund nodded. "I do Sir." The doctor encouraged him to share his knowledge. "Doctor Pearce and I took a class in Rome, some time back, on the brain and cognitive functions. There was a case study of a person who had amnesia like Her Ladyship. This man awakened from a sleep too, but never recovered his memories until almost two years after being awake."
The lone female in the room, Dot, began sobbing at that news. Charles stumbled into a chair. And the King, for once, felt truly weak and beaten. Apparently, there are some things being a King cannot fix.
However, Doctor Pearce offered hope. "Now don't be defeated. The key here is to help the brain retrieve the memories or create new ways for the retrieval to begin. The main thing is to keep her calm and aid her in the memory retrieval process. I'm not saying overwhelm her at once. That would be too much. What I am saying is recall past times spent together, especially Your Majesty and Lady Dot."
His eyes turned on the Duke. "Because she does not at present remember anything of you, outside of being the Duke of Suffolk, I would refrain from having too much communication with her. Let her get accustomed to this new way of being before adding to the fact she has a husband and two babies. That in itself is a lot to take in."
Those words rubbed him raw. After which it was settled that Dot would move into the room connecting onto the main living area, in the Duke's apartments. For now, His Highness would move into a room across the hall, with the twins. As his things were being moved, Henry sat with him in the new room.
Without thinking, Henry stated "You look and smell like shit. When was the last time you bathed or slept or eaten?"
Staring at his friend, Charles had a deadpan expression on his face. "Thank you for that. I feel ever so much better. My life has had a huge moment of impact and you tell me I look like shit. Perhaps this is my inside expressing itself outwardly because that's how I feel." He held the cold glass of wine to his forehead.
For once in his life, Henry Tudor apologized first. That was when Charles told him "My life is forever changed. My wife cannot remember any memories of us. How do you look at the woman you love and tell yourself you can't hug her, you can't kiss her, you can't make love to her, or do any of the things you used to do? How do you that? How am I supposed to get through this?"
Again Henry is at a loss. For one he doesn't think he's ever loved any woman the way his friend loves his daughter. Perhaps he loved Katherine like that once a long time ago, before stillbirths and miscarriages and a need for a male heir. For another, he has no words to say to soothe his friend. So for once, he stayed quiet.
The weeks that followed saw Mary get out of bed and hobble along like her mind— hobbling along with memories. There are some things her mind released and she remembers. Taking slow walks around the castle has brought some images to light. Times as a child, happy and sad times. Her father has been regaling her with tales of childhood and that has helped. The same happens with Dot.
But then there are things still closed off. For example one day she was wandering the grounds with Lady Dot. The two came across the Duke of Suffolk who bowed to them and bore his eyes into her own. It made her feel naked and vulnerable. She's always known him to be a charming, handsome man but that look— that stare left her bare.
As the two passed ways, he into the palace, and she outdoors, her head turned. Her eyes followed him as he walked up the steps. Dot noticed this and asked, "What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking. Oh, I'm not sure what I'm thinking, except he looks at me as if he knows what I look like without my slip and underpinnings on." As her eyes continued to watch the Duke's retreating back, she meant that in truth. There's something about him it seems all too familiar.
And it carried on like that. Every encounter with the Duke of Suffolk left her a little breathless and a little heady. Until one day by the urging of Lady Dot and the King, Charles decided to woo his wife. "Make her remember her love for you," Henry declared. His Lordship had heard their tales of how she seems to know him but knows him not. That was when he realized hope was not lost.
However, he has a problem. "How does one woo their wife?" he questioned. His friend stared blankly at him. It's obvious Henry will be no help here.
As it happened the King was holding a May Day banquet. Life goes on even though time seems to have stopped for both Mary and Charles. The Duke's every intention is to woo his wife and hopefully, she'll remember him a little clearer. So he picked a bouquet of her favorite flowers, roses, and peonies, in the hopes of asking her for dances and time together at the feast. The bouquet has various shades of pink, which she also loves. He even wrote her the ending of a silly little poem to go with it.
Knowing she is outside on the lawn with Dot, he took the flowers and poem in hand. His gait and stride are true, right to his wife. Except he did not consider another would beat him to her. Upon reaching the door to go outside he spied his rival, Edward Seymour. Why the hell is talking up his wife? A quiet fury settled in his body and his confidence started to wane.
He was tempted to turn around and leave, but Lady Dot saw him and waved to join them. Trying not to be irritable, he walked over. Her eyes met his. He looked away for fear of breaking down, but no matter how far away he looked her scent found him. The breeze blew it softly to his nose: roses, vanilla, and something fruity. His heart clenched as his fingers did the same to the bouquet.
Edward Seymour bid them a good day, after daring to place a kiss on his wife's hand. The nerve of the man. Right in front of his eyes too! His jaw tightened. Lady Dot then exclaimed, "We were just headed to the pond to sit and read weren't we, My Lady?"
Looking bashful, Mary stated her agreement. "We were." At that moment, Dot announced she left something in her room. Then she asked the Duke if he wouldn't mind walking with Mary to the pond. For which Mary decided she would give her friend a stern talking to later. She knows how much His Grace discombobulates her senses, for some unknown reason.
On their slow walk, Mary noticed the flowers. "Those are beautiful. Whoever you're giving them to is a lucky lady. Roses and peonies are the prettiest of flowers. You must really admire her." In her heart, she wishes someone would notice her and give her flowers too. And yet, it feels like someone has. She just can't remember.
His heart sped up and he wanted nothing more than to tell her "I love you", but he did not. Instead, he settled for "I do admire this particular lady a great deal. She is the fairest, and loveliest of ladies." It was then Mary almost tripped over a big root in the ground. Flowers tossed aside, he caught her in his arms.
Now both their hearts are beating fast. He held her and their eyes locked together. On their own accord, their faces moved closer, so close they could feel each other's breath. Then movement was heard behind them. Lady Dot called out. Setting his wife to right, his hands rubbed her arms where he had grasped her. Before he does something truly stupid, he bid her a good day and took off for the stables. He needs a ride and a drink, but a ride first.
Dot came over and found her friend breathless. "Are you alright?"
Nodding Mary said yes and watched the Duke retreat to the stables. It seems she always watches him leave, but then her eyes rested on the flowers. He forgot them. Bending to pick them up, she took them in hand and brought them up to her nose. They smell heavenly.
Noticing a piece of paper tucked into them, Dot announced "Oh look! He forgot to get this." She pulled it out and started to open it. Mary snatched it away.
"You cannot read something that is not meant for you. It's not right," she exclaimed.
Dot disagrees. "Oh please. You can certainly read it. I mean what if it's a cry for help? And it would be sitting there, nestled in the flowers never to be read." She prattled on and on until Mary had no choice but to read it.
"Fine. But then we're putting it back where it belongs." She opened the parchment and read aloud. "Merciless Beauty by Chaucer— Upon my word, I tell you faithfully. Through life and after death you are my queen. For with my death, the whole truth shall be seen. Your two great eyes will slay me suddenly; Their beauty shakes me who was once serene. Straight through my heart, the wound is quick and keen."
Staring at the paper a voice flashed in her head. It spoke the first lines of this poem. This poem— she remembers hearing it. The voice feels so fresh, so raw, so true. It cuts her deep down to the soul. Dot's hand rested on her arm. "Are you alright?" She said yes, but she isn't sure. Is she alright?
The two returned to their walk to the pond. "It's a beautiful poem. What does it mean?" her friend wondered.
Holding the poem in her hands, Mary's stomach twisted in knots and it seemed to take flight. "Love. It's a declaration of love." Her mind kept coming back to the voice and the poem.
Later that evening, she did not feel like joining the festivities to celebrate May Day. She just didn't, even with the prodding of Dot and her father. Instead, after eating a few bites of dinner, she wrapped a throw blanket around her shoulders and ventured onto the lawn. Sitting ensconced among the fireflies, she allowed her mind to wander on its own accord.
She loves them, the fireflies. They light up the night with their glow. It's like they bring a little bit of magic into the night. Specks of living light in the darkness. Don't lose hope. Don't lose hope they whisper and flash. Each flash and fade is a new truth.
Then she looked up to the sky and saw the stars. Looking at them made her think of herself. Only in the darkness can they be seen. That's how she feels, with her mind so mush— in darkness. And for a moment she allowed herself to cry. But the stars also guide you home. So in that moment of tears and sadness, she prayed for a star to guide her home.
It was then she smelled him before she saw him. Sage, bergamot, and sandalwood. She knows that smell. It's the scent of manliness, butterflies in the stomach, weak knees, and a racing pulse. It's the Duke of Suffolk, but that smell... Her eyes closed and she inhaled it, letting it encapsulate her senses.
A vision flashed in her mind, like the fireflies flashing around outside. It's a vision of a tub. The Duke is in it and a hand is washing his hair. Is that her hand? She couldn't think about it because he came to sit beside her in all his handsome, manly glory. To which butterflies flew in her stomach.
"Mind if I join you?" he asked. She shook her head no. He sat beside her. They were quiet just looking at the fireflies and the stars.
There's something between them, something electric, something that hums with energy. She can feel it. Her mind has been giving her more and more visions of him lately. Visions of him in undressed and compromising positions, vulnerable. If only she could remember everything fully and not in part. It's so frustrating!
The music playing at the banquet could be heard outside too. He stood up and held his hand out. "Care to dance My Lady?" For a beat, she sat unmoving and he wondered if perhaps he shouldn't have asked. His eyes turned down and his hand began to drop, but then she spoke.
"I'm not sure if I can move well. My knee is chipped and my wrist still aches. Although my ribs are better, they are bruised. I'm a bit broken," she disclosed with a soft voice. A voice so soft he almost didn't hear it. He knows that voice. It's her voice of sadness and embarrassment. He knows all her voices.
He smiled at that. "It's OK. Broken things can be fixed and beautiful too. I promise I'll be gentle." She nodded and turned seven shades of red at his beautiful comment. He helped her to stand, then she rested her hand in his. At first she thought he was going to lead her in a circle dance, as was the customary thing, but she was wrong. He held her hand and rested his other on her shoulder and the two of them danced a couple's dance.
It was then a flood of memories returned. One, in particular, was of them dancing closer than this before a ball, at their house. And she remembers that too, their house. Both houses in Wales and Suffolk along with their children. Her children! Pushing herself away from him, she needs air. Lots of air. With her hands on her stomach, she gasped to take in breath.
Overcome with worry, his pulse raced as he put a hand on her back. "Are you alright?" It is the same question Dot asked earlier. Is she alright? At that time she didn't have an answer, but now she does. And instead of giving it, she retreated into herself. A self that's so very, very swamped by the deluge of information loosened in her mind.
"I need to go inside, please," she told him. With a sad expression, he took up her blanket and helped her to the apartments.
Over the next few days, all of her memories unlocked and returned. During this time she studied her husband. She REALLY studied him. Everything from his hair, which needs to be trimmed. From his face, which has a growth of beard and mustache, all the way to his mannerisms. The thing she learned is he is tired and hurting, but keeping himself together somehow.
She also learned just how much he loves her. For his blue eyes were never too far from her. They always sought her out. Also questioning Dot provided a lot of answers regarding her Duke. Then she slyly asked the same of her father, whom she also realized might hold a smudge of affection for her. Although she doesn't completely trust him yet.
A new week began. With it came a tournament. A joust is being held in honor of May Day. She hates jousts. They're so pointless. However, her fingers took up a ribbon from off the vanity. A beautiful blue silk ribbon. One she's worn in her hair before, or rather one Charles has taken from her hair. Her mind provided her with images of other things that are silk, like a few dresses at home, William and Owen's skin, and her husband's voice.
Snapping her out of the memories, Dot came to collect her. Together they strolled down to the festivity. In a clever move, she told her friend "I'm going to peruse the craft booths". Before Dot went to find Anthony, the two agreed to meet up before the joust started.
Bypassing all of the booths, her aim is straight and her feet took her right to her husband's tent. Knowing he's most likely armoring up, she almost chickened out. The guards nodded and let her pass the entrance. He had not yet put on the chainmail or anything. In fact he was still in his normal clothes. Stopping and looking up from cleaning his shield, his mouth went dry at the sight of her. "What brings you to my tent, My Lady?" he asked.
Her heart thundered out of control. Pretending she was still in a fog, her voice spoke in a coy manner. Deciding it best not to look at his eyes, she studied his shoes instead. "I wanted to give you something. I know you probably have lots of ladies give you favors, but I wanted to give you a token. To let you know I hope you win." Before she could back out of this, he came to stand in front of her. It caught her unprepared and she inhaled a big whiff of masculinity. It made her insides turn to jelly.
"I already have a favor from my favorite girl. I keep it close to my heart, especially on a joust day." He reached into his shirt and pulled out the horrible thing she had embroidered.
Tears fell down her face at the sight of it. Letting the mask of falsity fall away, she sniffled out "Why must you carry that ugly thing around? I've never been more embarrassed at my embroidery skills than that. Here carry my ribbon instead." She placed the blue ribbon in his palm.
Dumbfounded he stared at it. His ears caught what was said. Did he dare to hope? If he asks and she still is forgetful then his heart will shrivel up at her feet. But he has to know. With a quaking voice, he questioned her. "What are you saying? You remember giving this grouse to me?"
She took his hand, pushed him to sit in a chair, and then made herself at home in his lap. Her hand ran over his face in a loving manner. Tender kisses were placed on his forehead, his cheeks, and his nose. She nuzzled her cheek against his growth of beard. Taking his face in both hands, she looked into the deep ocean of his eyes. "Thank you."
Afraid to speak, for thinking this is all a dream, he whispered "For what?"
Having released his face, her fingers carded back through his hair. "For everything. For allowing your love to be so big that you put it aside for me to get well. And I am well, in my mind, but my bones are still tender. I remember you, the twins, our life together, everything. No matter what challenges we face, I will never forget you Charles Brandon. Just like you promised to never leave me, I promise to never forget you. Our love is too much for that. We will always find our way back to each other." Then her loving fingers wiped his tears away.
Big, strong, muscular, manly Charles Brandon broke down. His body shook as he sobbed. All of the emotions he had suppressed came flooding out. Her intent was to be strong for him, but his pain is too much. She wept too, for all of the weeks he was alone and all of the memories that had been gone, lost to a haze.
Memories are the mind's way of holding on to the things that should never be lost. A sweet and precious picture of life. No matter how old they get, some memories can never be replaced. And sometimes they pour out of the eyes and roll down the cheeks. But when her cries were calm, she told him the sweetest thing he'd ever heard. "All my best memories are with you and all I want to do is make more."
And he cried again, but this time with thanks. Thanks for what he has. Thanks for his wife. Because what was lost is now found. Being lost is sometimes worth being found. He found her once in Ludlow and he found her again in her waking sleep.