Chapter 14

Elizabeth sat cross-legged on top of her duvet. She had just finished her weekly evening of pampering, and was waiting for her fingernails to dry. Her ‘relax’ CD of choice was playing, and she had some of her new favorite Mango candles lit. She planned on ending a most enjoyable evening by reading the ‘new’ used book she had picked up at Canterbury’s, her favorite old book shop. She leaned over to dig in her desk drawer for her favorite book mark to honor the occasion – when her fingers brushed against the package of letters that had gotten pushed to the back of the drawer. She pulled them out, noticing with horror the smudge on her nail polish she had received for the trouble. Still, her attention turned back to the letters. She had nearly forgotten all about them, these pieces of paper that had gotten her here in the first place. How could she have ignored such an important link to her past? “It is important not only to live well, but to remember well what we have lived,” she thought to herself, pushing back into the corners of her mind to try and remember who said it. But it was to no effect. “Stupid memory – what good is remembering the quote if you don’t know who said it?!”

She undid the ribbon around the letters, holding them in the same careful fashion she had been doing for many years. It wasn’t that she expected to find something new, no; she had gone over every word many times. It was more a need to connect with Mae on a personal level again. To again feel her emotions and her humanness through her handwritten letters. Elizabeth felt spellbound as she again pulled out one letter after another, to follow the beautiful handwriting of Mae.

Dear Jane, July 28, 1893
My friendship with you is one of the most important parts of my life. I often forget to thank you for your true loyalty and thoughtfulness. Every day is another day to thank God for friends like you, and for the wonderful life I have been given. Despite all the adversity, my soul sings. I remember the carefree days we spent together in Aberdeen and think…
Elizabeth stopped suddenly, and re-read the sentence from the letter she was holding. Aberdeen? She hadn’t really given much thought to that passing reference before. But now it seemed to jump out as a glaring hint. Aberdeen? Scotland? When was Mae in Scotland? She quickly kept reading but found no further references. She grabbed her notebook to mark down her idea:
May 3 – Could Raymond have been Scottish or lived in Scotland growing up – if so – should be checking Scottish census not English!
Having captured her idea on paper, Elizabeth was content to put the letters away and ponder for awhile. “What if Mae was really Scottish – that would be why I’ve been hitting so many dead ends in my research. She would have been born and raised Scottish, which would account for all the references to her later life and none to her formative years!” Elizabeth was getting excited. If it wasn’t so preposterous, she would have gotten dressed and gone right into Oxford to start researching at the library. “Scotland! Imagine that. I never would have thought – Obviously – because I didn’t think of it until now. Oh – maybe Dante will be able to help me, his field is Scottish research!” Elizabeth was getting really, really excited. Even the smudge on her nail polish didn’t dampen her enthusiasm. “This is GREAT! I have so many leads to follow tomorrow morning. Oh my goodness, I could just scream!” And so she did.

The following morning, true to her word, Elizabeth went on the earliest train from Charlbury to Oxford to get a quick start on her new Scottish vein of research. Her excitement kept her from even getting her requisite pre-work coffee. Ricardo would probably be worried about her – because she was usually as regular as a any regular could be. However, nothing could stop Elizabeth from following this new lead, which she felt deep down inside would be the breakthrough she really needed.

Just as she was settling down to her computer workstation and was ready to type in her first search term: “Mae Raymond, Scotland” she felt a tap on her shoulder. Turning around she came face to face with Browning. He was bending over her chai with a silly grin on his face. “You’re here early this morning – aren’t you? Getting caught up on your music downloads or something?” Elizabeth was perturbed at the interruption, but she realized it would be unpardonably rude to tell Browning to leave her alone. So she tried the polite but abrupt approach: “Good morning Browning! I’m just here getting a fast start on the next phase of my research. I’ve just begun it and I’m totally caught up in it right now.” Browning did not take the hint that Elizabeth had just thrown at him. “So, you want to go get a coffee with me?” Elizabeth would need to be more forceful, “No, I can’t get a coffee with you Browning, I just explained to you that I’m starting my next phase of research and I can’t, and also don’t want to leave. Got it?” She felt like it came across a bit harsher than she had meant it, but Browning didn’t seem too affected. “Oh, alright then, how about tomorrow? You could come for lunch at my family’s house. I think it would be the perfect study break from your ‘next phase of research.’ She couldn’t refuse his earnest eyes. “Alright, I’ll come tomorrow. Where do you live?”

“Surely there must be some mistake” thought Elizabeth as she stared up at the magnificent mansion. She checked the address that Browning had written on the envelope for her. 228 Lantern Lane. The large gold numbers on the brick pedestal by the gate clearly said 228. This was where Browning lived. “My goodness! He must be rich.” Part of her wanted to turn right around all find some generic coffee shop to sit in and call Browning to meet her on neutral territory. But she knew that taking the cowardly route was less than becoming, and, on top of that, made very little sense because she’d just spent almost a half an hour walking to find the house. “Courage – girl!”

The button on the security system made no sound when she pushed it. She wanted to push it again to make sure it worked, but she knew from experience that it gets very annoying when someone keeps ringing the bell, so she resisted the urge to lift her finger for the second time. Thankfully, it was working, and she soon heard a voice through the intercom: “Please come in Ms. Hanover” and the sound of the gate unlocking and magically swinging open. Elizabeth couldn’t make up her mind if this reminded her of a fairy tale house or a haunted house. She walked down the curving lane, and pondered the resemblance. Both magical and haunted houses had an element of the unexpected as well as the supernatural. “I guess it all comes down to two things: intent (for evil or good) and the weather. Any house looks scary on a dark cloudy night, and even the most sinister house seems kinda quaint when seen on a bright sunny day.” Given the fact that it was a bright sunny day, Elizabeth determined to herself that there was a possibility that this was a haunted house and she had been lulled into complacency by the sunlight, but that the more likely option was that this was in fact a happy house. Shortly after she had reached this conclusion, she had finished her trek from the front gate to the front door, a longer distance than in most other Oxford houses.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Hanover, please come inside.” A version of a butler greeted her at the door. She thought of him as a version of a butler, because although he was completely acting the part, he wasn’t wearing the tuxedo that fit the stereotype in her head. He was very distinguished and very British, though, which did fit. Elizabeth was quite delighted at his invitation, and carefully stepped into the cool marble foyer. She was immediately overwhelmed by the size of the space in front of her. Even from the outside, the house looked grand and large; but inside it was positively gigantic. She had to crane her neck back to be able to see the domed ceiling above her. The luxury of inspected the rest of her surroundings in detail was kept from her, though, as the Butler led her into another room, that appeared to be the sitting room. “Please wait here” leaving as silently as a good English butler from Elizabeth’s imagination would. She chose an oddly shaped, overstuffed armchair, that was the unfortunate color of salmon. Elizabeth took pity on such an ugly piece of furniture in such a beautiful room. “It must get neglected” she thought to herself, before she abruptly stopped the train of thought, reasoning that “normal people do NOT talk about furniture having feelings, silly!”

“Elizabeth! Welcome to my home. Did you find it alright?” Elizabeth had to swivel her head around to face Browning as he entered the sitting room from the French doors behind her. “Oh, yah, sure, I mean it was a bit more of a walk then I had expected, but it was clearly marked once I made it here.” Browning showed her into the ‘study’ which was exactly as a British study in a mansion should be, full of books, a big wooden desk, and leather chairs. “Sorry, this is kinda dark, but we’re having the sitting room re-done, and it’s messy.” Elizabeth was still adjusting to the dark light when Browning leaned over the desk with a very serious look on his face. “We’re going to London, said Browning with a dramatic flare. “And you are invited.” The grin on his face made Elizabeth think twice about taking him at his word. Still, the prospect of London was worth a little risk, so she took the bait: “London? For me?! What more could a girl ask for?” He seemed to be legit, so she questioned him further. “Really, I mean, when are you going?”

Browning leaned back into his large office chair and launched into his speech. “Well, you remember Meg, right? She needs to attend some sort of lecture in London that’s next Friday afternoon. Well, she couldn’t very well just go for Friday afternoon and not stay for the weekend, could she? So she asked me if I wanted to go with her for a little getaway, and she also asked if I would invite you to. We three can have a weekend of fun and excitement, although given that it’s the three of us, we’ll probably spend all our time in museums or libraries, but heh, if we say it’s fun – it’s fun.” Elizabeth thought it sounded like a great idea, she had just been bemoaning the fact that she lived in the south of England and never seemed to have the time to take jaunts into London. This would be just the thing – a guilt free jaunt that wouldn’t take up too much of her valuable research time. “Okay, sounds great – but where are we going to stay? Are we going to youth hostel it? I’m not sure how many more youth hostels I can live through.”

Browning laughed, “I’ve put in my time in youth hostels as well. Nope, we’re upgrading, London done right – sleeping on the couch in a friend’s flat.” Now it was Elizabeth’s turn to laugh: “Really, we’re staying at your friend’s place?” “Yeah, it’s really nice, and best of all, it’s free. Doesn’t that beat a youth hostel any day?” Elizabeth had to agree – a weekend in London was not cheap, and saving the money on accommodation would make the trip even more guilt-free. “I’m in. Tell Meg I am quite thankful for her Friday meeting. Or I could just tell her myself, she isn’t here now, is she?” “Sadly, no, she has teaching all day today. But give her a call tonight, I’m sure she’ll be really excited that you can come. So we’ll meet on Friday at the bus station, 12 noon.”


It was Friday morning, and Elizabeth was entirely too early. She had a habit of always leaving extra time to get somewhere in case something went wrong, but of course it seemed like nothing ever did go wrong. So it was 11:15 and Elizabeth was ready, with her stuff, at the bus station. Some businessman in the past most have foreseen this circumstance, or at least bargained on there being enough people like Elizabeth to open a coffee shop directly next to the bus stop. Elizabeth went inside, and sat all of her stuff down on one of the barstools that looked out over the bus yard. Then she spent 4 minutes deciding what she wanted and eventually came back to her seat with an Earl Grey Tea with milk, no sugar, and a caramel shortbread. “It’s amazing that the British can keep secrets so well. It’s hard to comprehend how caramel shortbread is so popular all over Britain, and yet no one’s even tried one in North America. Alas – I could make millions just by stealing the recipe for English caramel shortbread. Maybe then I would have enough money to stay here in Oxford to study more.” Mental discussions on British baked goods had lead her down a familiar path – that of worrying about the time when she would have to leave the city and life she had grown to love. Thus she spent the next 20 minutes working herself up over the fact that it would all be over soon, and she’d have to say goodbye to her libraries, her research, her professors, her friends. She was almost to the point of tears when Meg and Browning finally showed up. Elizabeth gulped down the last of her tea. “Quit crying about the future, and live in the moment.” She pepped herself up, threw out her trash, and threw the duffle over her shoulder.

Stepping outside into the sun, she got a warm ‘hello’ from her friends. As she got on the bus, she began to regret her decision to have tea, for two reasons. First, it was a really hot day, and the bus didn’t appear to be air-conditioned, and second, there was no washroom on board. “Uh-oh, this could be bad. If we get stuck in London traffic, I’m going on the side of the street.” Fortunately, the bus left early enough that there wasn’t any more traffic than usual, and they arrived in the city in good time to get Meg to her meeting and get Browning and Elizabeth into an adjacent coffee shop to wait for her to finish.

Elizabeth was having trouble with her patience. As much as she would have another leisurely coffee shop chat about literature with Browning on any other day, she felt anxious to get started on her London weekend. Meg had called about 15 minutes previously to apologize for being late and to explain that the meeting was going to take longer than anticipated. This left Elizabeth and Browning with at least another hour to kill, sitting in the coffee shop, occasionally talking and sometimes just watching the London pedestrians scurry by. At least it was a comfortable shop; Elizabeth had never felt so impressed by the décor of a coffee shop before. It was done in creams and warm browns, and the leather couch she was currently occupying was so large that you could curl your feet up under you and take a nap. The warm feeling would have been especially wonderful on a cold, solitary winter afternoon. However, the heat and her impatience meant she could only admire it as something that she would love normally, but that she was to peeved to fully enjoy. Browning didn’t seem to notice Elizabeth’s impatience, and he was droning on about Greek tragedy, a subject she found only mildly interesting on the best of occasions. “Sorry, Browning, would you excuse me?” She slid off the huge couch that made her feel like an elementary school student whose feet couldn’t touch the ground. Browning was left hanging in mid-sentence, as Elizabeth set off in search of the washroom. “Yes, that was rude, I know – but he just wouldn’t stop, and I do have to go to the washroom. She found the washroom, but it was not as she expected. It was a hallway of doors, each leading to a unisex single washroom, equipped with toilet and sink. “Wow, how progressive! Easier to use, more private, and easier to keep clean. I should have thought of that.” She started towards one of the doors, “so many choices, which one to choose?” when suddenly a door opened, and a woman walked out quickly, bumping into Elizabeth who was standing there mid-decision.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” It hadn’t been Elizabeth’s fault that the lady had run into her, but the Canadian in her urged to be the first to apologize. The woman looked up and seemed startled, “Oh, hello, um, no – no, it was entirely my fault; I was a bit hell-bent on getting back to my coffee.” She smiled gracefully, and Elizabeth had a vague feeling that they had met before. The feeling appeared to be mutual, because the woman was studying Elizabeth, making her feel like she had grown two heads, or something. “Do I know you?” Elizabeth was the first to break the silence, it was making her uncomfortable. “Well, I’m not sure.” The woman took a step closer to peer at Elizabeth’s face, which made her even more paranoid that she had chocolate on her mouth. “Aren’t you Elizabeth Hanover?” The woman asked. “Yes, I am, but I’m afraid I don’t know who you are.” The woman smiled warmly, “I’m your fairy godmother – in a way.” But Elizabeth wanted to know exactly who this woman was now; she wasn’t patient enough for more games. She gave an impatient sigh “I’m sorry, I don’t understand. Your name is…?”

The woman seemed to unconsciously draw herself up to full height. “I am Alexa Drew. I am a friend of your tutor, Susan Nottim.” “Oh” Elizabeth felt quite a bit easier knowing which realm this new acquaintance fit into, “I believe I remember her mentioning your name. But what do you mean by ‘fairy godmother’?” Alexa guided Elizabeth by the elbow away from the line of loos to stand against the opposite side of the hallway. “Well, Susan knows that my field of research is similar to yours, actually the same years, different obscure Scottish female authors. So usually just before or after she had a tutoring session with you, she would call me up to prep. And you just thought that Dr. Nottim knows everything there is to know about all academic fields? No, she just has a large selection of wise friends she uses as resources. So, in a way, I feel like I have been your tutor over the last few months. As you get closer and closer to finding Mae Raymond, I get more and more excited with you.”

Elizabeth was thrilled to hear the news of her very own ‘fairy godmother.’ She had been wondering how Dr. Nottim knew so much about Scottish women at the turn of the last century. And she had always been a bit disappointed when Dr. Nottim showed little excitement over Elizabeth’s breakthroughs. But now she knew Alexa had been getting excited instead.

Elizabeth invited Alexa over to the corner where she had left Browning pondering Greek Tragedy. She was excited to be able to introduce her new ‘fairy godmother.’ “Browning – you’ll never guess who this is!” He looked up, and said “Alexa, it’s good to see you again.” Alexa nodded, “You too, Browning, it’s been quite awhile, almost a year I’d imagine.” Elizabeth was disappointed at their casual acquaintance. She had hoped Browning would get as excited over meeting Alexa as she had, but it was now clear it would not be so. “So then, you already know each other – I won’t have the pleasure of introductions.” Browning gave her a slightly patronizing smile, “you can if you like, dearie, but it will be a bit superfluous.” Seeing the dejected and embarrassed look on Elizabeth’s face, he relented. “Well, do sit down, you to, and Elizabeth you can tell me the whole story of how you know the illustrious Ms. Alexa here.”

Elizabeth, Alexa, and Browning were quickly caught up in conversation. It seemed they had much in common, and their was a second round of coffee all around as they talked about the joys of Oxford, and the research they were all involved in. Elizabeth couldn’t learn enough about Alexa’s work – they were both going down the same general track, except for different obscure authors, and more importantly, Alexa being 10 years further down the path than Elizabeth. So there was much knowledge to be gleaned. So much, in fact, that Elizabeth was truly disappointed when Meg popped through the coffee shop door, and bounded over to their table, full of apologies for keeping them waiting during her long meeting. Meg didn’t know Alexa, so Elizabeth was given the pleasure of at least one introduction. And Meg was nice enough to at least pretend to share in Elizabeth’s excitement, even though, like Browning, she didn’t really have any special interest in Scottish history.

Although Elizabeth felt like she could have sat and talked for hours with Alexa, she had the common sense to realize now was not the appropriate time. So the two women set a date to have lunch together in Oxford, and Alexa excused herself. Which left Browning, Meg and Elizabeth ready to hit the town and enjoy London. They started to discuss what to do first. Suddenly, there was the all-to-familiar sound of British rain. And it was not a light mist of any sort, but a full-out downpour. The three hopeful travelers turned their faces to the window in despair. “Yuck – the weather forecast said it was supposed to be a dry weekend – this torrential rain is not dry!” Elizabeth felt the need to verbalize her inner whining. Browning gave her the second patronizing look of the afternoon: “Come on, stop being so silly, there are lots of things to do in London in the rain. It’s one of my favorite times to see London.” Just like that, Browning had made Elizabeth feel unimportant and inferior. She had been on such a high after meeting Alexa that this was a crushing blow. She felt like stomping off to do London by herself, but this would certainly be seen as immature. “And, I suppose he’s right in a way, but he didn’t need to say it like that!” She had two choices: recognize it as a small incident and let it go like water off a duck’s back, thus getting ready to have a lovely weekend enjoying Browning and Meg’s company; or stifle her hurt, and stew all by her lonesome for two days. Not a pleasant option, so even though the conversation had changed topics, she gathered her courage to spurt out: “Browning, what you said hurt me and I know you didn’t really mean it and you probably don’t remember what you said but I need to tell you that it’s okay.” She stopped to take a deep breath. Browning looked at her like he didn’t quite know what to do with her, then he gave her a big smile – “Thanks for telling me that, whatever it was I didn’t mean it to hurt you.” “I know.” Elizabeth said, happy to have the entire thing done with. “So it’s a rainy Friday night in London – what to do first?”

They decided on a plan, it was still early, so they wanted to go to the Tate Modern for a few hours before dinner and maybe a late show. “The first thing we need to do is go see if we can get half price last minute theatre tickets.” Browning was quick to take the lead. But Elizabeth was unwilling to let him play know-it-all tour guide. She still had some pride left, and she too knew London well. “Leicester Square it is, then,” Elizabeth said with a smile. Browning gave her a sly look that seemed to say: “touché.” Meg giggled, and seemed content to stay out of Elizabeth and Browning’s friendly bickering. The three of them ran out from the warm embrace of the coffee shop and hurried towards the glowing stairwell leading down to the Tube. They took the necessary line, and then made the requisite switch, eventually ending up at the Leicester Square station; a long journey for a short distance. Then they found the line to stand in for entirely too long. By the time they got to the kiosk, they were thoroughly drenched and quite unhappy to hear that the only shows left involved singing animals or murder mysteries. “So there’s nothing at the National Theatre or at the Gielgud?” asked Elizabeth hopefully. The ticket agent seemed to be out of patience, after having 100’s of tourists asking the same silly question, “No, we only have a certain number of tickets available and when they’re sold out, they’re sold out.” Meg tried her hardest to talk Browning into seeing the singing animals show, but he wouldn’t stand for it, and Elizabeth had no desire to get in the middle of a sibling argument. Eventually, they left the ticket booth, really wet but ticket-free. “How about the Tate? I think that would cheer us all up.” Elizabeth was trying to play peacemaker, but Meg was thoroughly disappointed, and Browning was moping. So the three set off on another tube ride, but the trip to Bankside was considerably more subdued.

The Tate did brighten everyone’s spirits. “There’s something about seeing scary modern art that has to put a smile on your face” thought Elizabeth to herself, and she stood in the large Turbine Hall, listening to the voices all around her. And the fact that all three of them seemed to be enjoying it equally. It was a good place to dry off, too. They finished the first two floors before closing time, when they were kicked back out into the rain. “I’m sorry guys, I can’t really stomach much more wet-weather London fun tonight. Anyone up for an early night?” Meg and Browning seemed more than willing to comply, and they all agreed that the weather would have to be better in the morning. They found Browning’s friend’s flat, and after the precursory small talk, they were given blankets and allowed to sink into the comfort of a couch after a rainy, cool evening.

Elizabeth awoke to the lovely feeling of a sunbeam warming her nose. “Ummmm,” she said to herself, rolling over to let her entire face enjoy the feeling, like a flower turning towards the sun. She had the half-asleep, cozy, Saturday morning feeling, of being warm and drowsy under lots of blankets. It didn’t even matter that she was on a couch, she had a wonderful night’s sleep. “I wonder what time it is?” She tried to untangle her arm from the pile of blankets. She always slept with her watch on, “you never know when you’ll wake up in a strange place and want to know what time it is.” After taking a few seconds to focus her still sleepy eyes, she decided it was either 9:15 or 2:45. With her incredible powers of deductions, she decided it was 9:15. “I wonder if everyone else slept in, too?” She half-sat up to look at the other couches. Empty. “How could I have slept through them getting up?” She looked around again and saw the note propped up on the coffee table.

Morning Elizabeth! Hope you slept well. I (Browning) am going out for breakfast with Ted, and Meg went for a run. Enjoy a slow Saturday morning, and Ted says to help yourself to whatever you want in the kitchen. See you later.


Elizabeth giggled with delight; lying back down and stretching like a cat. For the second time she had to exclaim “Ummm” at the joy of a slow, sunny Saturday morning all to herself. “Just what I needed” as she padded towards the kitchen, determined to figure out how to work the coffee machine if it killed her.