Lord Gregory

I must have dozed off or passed out because the next things I remember happening is being pulled up into a sitting position. I opened my eyes and James was gently pulling me up by my shoulders. Then he slid in behind me so I could lean on him. On the small table in front of us was a sumptious-looking breakfast. Some scones, some eggs, some sauteed green and red vegetables. There was a pitcher of orange juice and a pitcher of water. My stomach growled loudly and I almost laughed. It felt so good to feel just even a momentary piece of joy.
James reached over and grabbed a plate, bringing it to the couch. Then he started feeding me. I ate like a baby bird, hungrily gulping down every bite he fed me. After about ten bites, I started feeling a little better and then right then, there was a knock at the door. One of the guards came in-maybe John? Or was it Jimmy? I wasn't sure, so I just concentrated on eating-announced "Lord Gregory is here, sir."
"Let him in," James handed me the plate of food and the fork, and picked up his own plate from the table. I continued to lean on him, but was now feeding myself, feeling stronger. A tall, rather older-looking man came into the room with a smile on his face, until he saw me, when it turned into concerned look. He came over and bowed to James and then to me.
"Please, have a seat, Lord Gregory," James said as he motioned to the couch opposite of us.
Lord Gregory sat down, still with the concerned look on his face. I was starting to feel uncomfortable. I searched his face, pretending to study my tomato on my fork and saw that he had a lot of worry lines. But he also had smile lines. Perhaps he wouldn't be too hard on us.
James cleared his throat. "There...is a problem. That we need to discuss with you. It's very sticky and I'm not sure how to publicize it, or whether to publicize it." He stopped and glanced at me, leading Lord Gregory to do the same. I stopped eating and smiled at him. He smiled back, obviously trying to put on a good front for me.
"As you know, she was kidnapped last night. And was unconscious. We awoke her every two hours to prevent her from falling into a coma, but when she awoke she...she had amnesia. She still does have amnesia. She doesn't remember anything. Even her name." He stopped and we both turned toward Lord Gregory. I had been watching him the entire time that James had been speaking and his worry lines had become more and more pronounced. After James had finished speaking, Lord Gregory sat in silence for a few moments. At last he began to speak.

"Well, you're right, this is a sticky situation. I assume you've had her evaluated by Doctor Applegate, sir?"

James nodded.

"Did he advise any specific course of action?"

"Yes. To try and jumpstart her memory again, and meanwhile talk to you."

"Hm." Lord Gregory placed the tips of his fingers together and placed them at his mouth. He sat there thinking for another few moments.

"Why don't we keep this quiet for two or three-no, two-days and see if her memory returns. If it does, no one shall speak of this. If not," he sighed, "we shall decide how to proceed. I shall reflect on this problem in the meantime and by the time two days is up, shall have a proposed course of action."

"Thank you, my Lord," James shook Lord Gregory's hand as he stood to go. Lord Gregory bowed to us, opened the door, and left.

I felt relieved when he left, having had to pretend all was right while he was here. James also felt this way, as I could tell by his sigh when the door closed.

"It's a right old mess, Rebecca, and no mistake." he glanced at me, almost laughing then sobered. He sighed again. "I'm sorry, Rebecca, it was an old joke between us. You loved that line in my accent." I noticed for the first time that he spoke in an English accent, as had Lord Gregory, while I didn't. As I was noting this, he shrugged then pointed at my plate with his fork. "Eat." I obediently put a piece of egg on my fork but couldn't shake off the feeling that I had caused a calamity. I frowned, looking at the egg, trying to balance my options. Frustrated, I realized my brain wouldn't work until I had finished eating. I lifted the egg to my mouth and at the same time lifted my eyes to find his gaze fixed on me. He solemnly said, "Rebecca, this is not your fault." I nodded, pretending all was right, but he shook his head. "No, I mean it, Rebecca. You have to step back from that feeling or you won't succeed. Let God in and let Him heal you." I frowned, this is another thing that I didn't remember. And yet, something tugged at me from deep inside. I could feel something and I knew that God-whoever He was-was something important and that I needed to figure it out. And who knew-maybe He could help me. What was I to lose, anyway?

--The content of this post is copyrighted to Rebecca Ahlers 2011. Reproduction of any of this material is strictly prohibited without the author's written permission.

My rooms

We got out of the room and into a reception area where a nurse was sitting behind a desk. "Your Majesty," she said, standing up and looking toward James.
"Yes?" we stopped.
"I...well, as a recommendation, sir, I would advise making her look less ill. Perhaps she can act as though all is well?"
"All is not well," I thought to myself. But I didn't feel well enough to speak up.
James glanced down at me and noticed just how sickly I looked.
"Rebecca," he said gently, "do you think you can manage to walk a few halls with me, smiling and pretending like you're all right?" I trepidiously nodded, not understanding how I could manage this feat.
"When we meet someone, do as I do. If I nod, nod. If I say 'good morning,' say 'good morning.' And be sure to listen carefully to the names. I'll be sure to say 'Lord' or 'Lady' so you can repeat. I do hope we don't meet anyone, though." he turned us toward the door. "And one more thing: you always smile. So smile to whomever we see." he smiled at me and filled me with a little bit of warmth that I could feel loosen up my smiling muscles.
We headed out the door and traveled through corridors and corridors. "Buckingham Palace must be huge," I thought to myself, then chided myself for thinking that, for of course it was huge-I mean, it was a palace, for goodness' sake! We got through halls and doorways, went up staircases and down more corridors. Everytime we heard footsteps I became nervous. But it was always just a servant or a guard-the palace seemed to be full of such people. And to these people I had to merely smile and nod my head while they curtsied or bowed to us.
We got to our rooms without mishap. There were two guards, on either side of the door. We stopped in front of the door and one of the guards started to open the door. We walked inside, but right as we passed over the threshold and I thought we were safe, James stopped and turned towards the guards.
"Jimmy, John," he addressed them, "there's something you ought to know. Understand, this is strictly confidential and such but..." he glanced toward me, "she has amnesia. Completely. So if she's acting strangely, just keep others from noticing it and know that it's simply a memory fluke." The guards solemnly nodded, but in an understanding way, and I hoped they would prove to be helpful allies through this, my crisis.
James closed the door behind us and guided me to a couch. I collapsed onto it, exhausted from our long walk. I closed my eyes, trying to wake up, trying to understand, trying to remember. Something. Anything. But nothing came to mind. Meanwhile, James had gotten onto a telephone line and was apparently asking for room service. "Yes, we'll take brunch for two up here. Thank you." Some pressing of buttons, then "Yes, Lord Gregory? Yes, I have an urgent matter to discuss with you. Could you come up to my apartments? Yes, now is good. Thank you." He placed it back in his speaker and I could hear him coming towards the couch where I lay.
"Rebecca?" I made a "mm" sound so that he would know I was awake. I was too tired to talk but my brain was going into overwork mode trying to comprehend my situation.
"I'm having some food brought up. Also, Lord Gregory-he's the Private Secretary for the royal household, responsible for all of our communications with the media-is coming up for a quick chat about the situation. I hope you don't mind?" I shook my head, feeling terrible for causing this mess.
"It's not your fault," he said, as though reading my thoughts. My eyes opened and looked at him in astonishment.
He smiled, then said, "I've always been able to read your face, Rebecca, and anguish was written quite clearly when I said that he was coming. I won't tell him that, though." He grinned, obviously trying to cheer me up. I wanly smiled back, trying to give him some encouragement. But the truth was, I was too tired to care about much anything.

Doc

As I slowly came to consciousness, I heard voices. I lay still, straining to listen. It sounded like they were standing a couple feet from the bed. It sounded like two men talking to each other.
"I only gave her a little bit. She was having such a problem breathing, two breaths did it for her." There was a heavy sigh. "She...she seemed to be having trouble...remembering...."
"What did she say?" here another voice broke in.
The first voice continued again. "She asked 'Where am I?' and didn't seem to remember that we lived in London. She seemed confused after I told her we were in London. Then she asked who I was! I assured her that she was all right. But she just fought me. She was fighting me the whole time, but she was so weak, the poor thing, that it was too easy to keep her down. And then..." here he paused as though wondering about what exactly he had done wrong, "I raised my hand to get the cloth because she was panicking so bad but she saw me raise my hand and...shrieked...'don't hit me!' I wouldn't hit her! You know I wouldn't, Doc! I've never said or even joked that I would hit her!"
The other voice, called "Doc", said quietly, "But her father did. If she has really has forgotten who she is, her subconscious will tell her that men hit. If she doesn't know who you are, she will be scared of you."
I started to panic again. I didn't know who I was, did I? I could feel my heart beating faster and faster. Then suddenly loud beeping started on my left. It frightened me so much that my eyes popped open. A nice-looking older man walked from the doorway over to the side of my bed. He smiled compassionately at me as I looked up at him-frightened, I'm sure.
"Now...miss," he started slowly and carefully, "I want to talk to you, and help answer some questions for you. But if you start panicking and your heart rate makes this beep," here he pointed to the machine next to my bed, "I'm going to have to give you something that will knock you out. Are we clear?"
I nodded.
He continued, "Now calm down, and let's try to answer a few questions. First of all, I am a doctor and he," the doctor pointed towards the other man standing in the doorway, the one I had met earlier, "is a friend. I'm sorry he gave you such a fright this morning and I assure you he meant no harm to you. However, if you feel uncomfortable around him, he need not be around you." The doctor cast a sympathetic look at the other man as he said this, almost apologizing for behaving in such a manner.
He turned back to me. "You can call me Doc. Now, don't panic; 'I don't know' is a perfectly good response. But do you know what your name is?"
I knew that I should know. I could feel my pulse starting to race. The machine started beeping and I feared that our conversation would be terminated. I turned fearfully to the doctor, who was watching me calculatingly compassionately.
"Calm down," he said quietly. I forced my pulse to slow, and made myself think. I carefully searched through my memory bank; and found it empty; devoid and empty of anything except my morning encounter with that man standing in the doorway.
The doctor nodded as the machine stopped beeping. "You always were able to get your emotions under control-" he cut himself off, and looked as though he was afraid that he had said too much.
"Wait. You know me?" I asked. Beyond feeling frightened, I had a desperate need to know who I was.
"Yes, ma'am," He quietly looked me over, evaluating how much I could take. "If you start feeling overwhelmed, then stop me. I'm going to tell you who you are." He stopped, and looked me over with his eyes.
I nodded, excited and trepidatious.
He looked toward the other man, as though warning him to be silent. "You were walking through town one night and..." he stopped and made sure I was doing all right. "somehow got separated from the group and went missing. The police were notified, and you were found in an alley. Cut and bruised, lying on the ground with broken glass lying around. I didn't find any damage physically, but I was worried about your head. Apparently you have amnesia."
No, duh, I thought to myself. But it would pose certain problems. He could be one of my abductors, for all I knew.
He continued, "that was last night. We woke you every two hours to assure that you would not fall into a coma. Do you remember that?" I again carefully searched my memory, but no, nothing came up. I shook my head.
He nodded. "You did seem as though you were drugged last night..." His voice trailed off, looking at me thoughtfully.
I chanced a glance at the "friend;" he was standing unmoved in the doorway watching our exchange.
"How does your brain feel?" The doctor asked.
"Okay," I replied. I stopped and carefully tried to evaluate my condition. Besides the panic, it felt normal.
"No fog?" he asked.
"No," I answered.
He took a deep breath, again looked at me as though assessing my strength and then opened his mouth. "I'm going to tell you who you are because I think you can take it. Stop me whenever you start to feel...overwhelmed." He stopped, then began again.
"You are in Buckingham Palace, in London. You were the daughter of an English earl; there was a...sort of a competition and you won." He paused, glanced towards the man in the doorway, then said, "You married the prince."
He stopped and my mind whirled. I married the prince of England? That means...that I'm a princess. Which means that I'm royalty. Which means that I am married. So that man in the doorway must be my husband, the prince. Which means when I awoke this morning I was in our bedroom. My mind calculated all this quickly and i turned toward the man in the doorway.
"You're my husband?" He nodded, watching to see my reaction. I reflected that it probably hurt to have your wife not recognize you or remember your wedding.
"Come here, James," the doctor motioned him to the side of my bed. James walked over and stood looking at me.
He obviously didn't know what to say, and neither did I. The doctor looked between us and slowly nodded. "All right, here's what you need to do. You both need to...introduce each other." He looked toward James apologetically. "You'll have to figure out how to handle the media attention and ramifications of this amnesia. I would advise...well, for now, just educate her as best you can, filling in important memories. Do things the way you always have, see if you can jumpstart her memory. You'll have to talk with the Private Secretary, of course, to decide how to react publicly. Privately," he again looked at me, as though analyzing me. "be careful with her. She's like an innocent child. Do not abuse the power and trust you have right now. Her psychological balance more than likely is delicate; don't make her do anything that she doesn't want to."
James nodded, and I looked into his face. He looked strong, but kind and good. I hoped he was.
"Now, why don't you take her to your apartments, show her some pictures of you two, talk to her, let her rest, feed her..." he finished, then quickly added, "I wouldn't advise venturing outside, though. Of necessity her maid and guards must be informed, but keep the informed people few and trustworthy."
James again nodded, then stretched out his hand toward me. I hesitated, then took it. I wanted to trust him. What reason did I have not to? Anyway, if he really was my enemy, who could I trust? Who did I have to turn to? I would have to trust him, and time would tell.
The doctor took the heart moniter and numerous other wires and things off of me, then nodded that I could get out of bed. I sat up, and felt dizzy. I kept going, however, and stood. I would have fallen over for dizziness had not James reached out and quickly caught me around my waist. I hung onto him, because I couldn't tell up from down.
"Don't worry, this is just because you haven't eaten," the doctor hastened to assure me. I hoped he was right. The dizziness abated enough so that I could see the room, but the room still tilted.
With James's arm still around my waist, we walked out of the room, to what I was sure was our apartments.

The start of something

I awoke with a start. I felt slightly out of sorts, as though I had been drugged. I saw soft light to my left. I shifted to see if it was a window, and whether it was daylight outside or not. As I shifted, pain exploded in my side and I gave a breathless gasp.
"Shh," said a concerned, softly insistant voice. As my brain registered the words being spoken, my body registered being gently but firmly being pushed back down to my previous position. Which I discovered was in someone's arms. It hit me with a start: I was in someone's arms, in someone's bed, in someone's bedroom. And I had no idea who that person was. I started to struggle and scream, which made my side, again, explode even more painfully than before. The voice again murmured endearing pleadings to be quiet, and to lay still. I finally stopped struggling not because I believed him, but because I was breathless with pain and it was taking all of my energy to just take breaths.
"Where am I?" after a moment of catching my breath. I was very tense, on account of my lying in his (whoever he is) arms.
In a slightly confused voice he answered, "At home. In London." London? What on earth was I doing in London? That wasn't home! Was it? I started to panic. Where was home? Where did I come from? Where did I belong?
"Who are you?" He must have heard the panic in my voice because he slowly, calmly, and quietly replied, "Rebecca, everything's going to be okay."
Rebecca? Who did he think I was? Rebecca was not my name-my name was.... At this point my panic escalated to the point where I didn't care about anything anymore-I had to get out at any cost. I couldn't breathe. I felt claustrophobic. I couldn't see. I couldn't feel. And I didn't care. I blindly thrashed my arms and legs, trying to scream but struggling to catch breath. Through the fog that was clogging my thoughts, I could tell that he was easily overpowering me. I opened my eyes as he held me down on the bed. He let go of me with one hand and reached up-and I knew-I just knew-he was going to hit me. I didn't know where that knowledge came from, but it was truth, I knew. I screamed with all of my power (which wasn't much) and thrust my arms over my face. He gently pulled my arms off of my face and there were tears in his eyes as he placed a cloth over my mouth. I started to struggle again-I could smell the poignant smell of something bad-but to no avail. The cloth was over my nose and mouth and I could no longer hold my breath. I resignedly stopped struggling and breathed in. Whatever it was, let it come.