Healing the Fisher King

Ashley woke up at about 4:30 AM Greenwich mean time. She rolled over and looked at her cell phone, groaned, shifted and tried to make herself comfortable. She turned toward Chelsea who was sleeping peacefully. Ashley settled in and gazed at her paramour. To her, Chelsea looked like she was fifteen years old, her beautiful oval face creamy in the blue light of night, innocent and fresh. She had a few freckles on her cheeks and forehead from her summer walks about London. She seemed so peaceful and content in her slumber that she almost glowed. In those quiet timeless moments Ashley felt like her heart was boundless in its capacity to feel, to love. She had never experienced the intensity of it before. At times she was afraid of its power. But now, in this half dream state she felt comfortable as if it was the safest, most secure place to be. It was the thing that had gone missing in her life until now. And she could not fathom Chelsea not being in it. Even the barest hint of separation felt painful. Not that she needed to be physically present at all times. Certainly they had their own separate identities and pastimes, but a curious knowing that the love would never wane, only deepen between them.

Sleep would elude her so she decided to get up and make her way to the kitchen to see if anyone else was awake at that hour. She crept quietly out of the immense suite of rooms and down the elegant curving staircase that almost seemed like an illusion. She heard the footpads of someone stirring and as stealthily as she could she crept down the long corridor where the luminescence if a single incandescent light overflowed onto the Moroccan runners that absorbed and hid her presence. The room was an office for Mr. Smoot who had been made power of attorney for the Dame. He was the overseer of all of her holdings, investments, foundations and trusts including her own personal property over the last decade due to Dame Thornton’s increasing age and fragility. As she peeked in she could see Mr. Smoot rubbing his eyes and shuffling mounds of paper trying to organize and prioritize the measures to be taken for the estate to make a smooth transition. He seemed overwhelmed and perplexed if a bit disheveled in his elegant velvet robe. He smoked. She disliked smoking. She knew that once the Hyde Park house was truly theirs they would forbid smoking in the house altogether. If anyone chose to embrace the habit they would have to go out to the garden. Then out of the shadows she heard a husky whisper.

”Ms. Coleman?” The sound of her name startled her and she took in a sharp breath and froze for a moment. Mr. Smoot’s eloquent yet authoritative voice reminded her of her father. Her immediate reaction was that she was in trouble somehow. Then she remembered she was an adult and one of the masters of the house.

“Yes?” She replied weakly. Then she stepped into the amber glow of the dim desk lamp.

“Is everything all right?” He asked in a low voice.

“Yes---yes, I just…couldn’t sleep.” She replied.

“Seems to be contagious.” Mr. Smoot said as he moved a pile of papers to another table.

“I trust your visit to London has been enlightening?” He said a bit tongue in cheek.

“More than you know.” Ashley said and she smiled at her secret.

“Well…Since you’re up and awake I can take care of a bit of business that affects you directly.” And he rose, stumped out his cigarette took a sip of tea and began to step toward the hallway. He reached for a set of keys and then gestured for her to follow. Quietly they made their way to the top floor of the townhouse. Upon stepping up onto the landing Ashley was strangely familiar with all of the furniture, wallpaper, paintings rugs and knick-knacks. She had wondered why it seemed so familiar. The chaise lounge and the heavy damask curtains even the patterns and colors of the paint and fabric became instantly recognizable. When she first found the Rhys Manor house in Brooklyn and met Victoria thinking she was a museum employee, the entire contents of the house now appeared before her.

“These are beautiful antiques.” Ashley remarked.

“Yes, the Dame has quite a collection.” Mr. Smoot replied.

“She collect these things herself?” Ashley asked.

“She inherited almost everything on this floor from her grandmother.” He said as they neared a locked door at the end of the hall.

“Her grandmother…” Ashley echoed.

“Yes, her grandmother was one of the most celebrated philanthropists in England. Victoria Thornton. She was a moving force in the temperance and suffrage movements. She was also a driving force in reform and eventual labor movements. Shaw based a few of his female characters on her in his plays.” He explained. “Quite an amazing woman.”

The tumbler in the lock turned and the door swung open. It was the Dame’s inner sanctum. It was her bedroom, office and personal space. Decorated tastefully with the most amazing personal collection of art. On the walls hung the lesser known works of Richard Rhys, as well as Mary Cassatt, Edgar Degas, Berthe Marisot, Courbet as well as Picasso, Braques, Duchamp, Matisse and even DeKooning. She was the Peggy Guggenheim of her time and yet she kept a very private life.

“Everything in this room with the exception of some of the more contemporary works of art belonged to her grandmother. She had been a guiding force in the Dame’s early life.” Mr. Smoot said. Ashley moved through the room and she could feel the same kinetic energy as she felt when she was in the Manor house in Brooklyn. She almost expected Victoria to enter the space and greet her as she had so many times when she visited the house in the states. On the walls were tiny mirror fragments that shimmered in the predawn hours like a sea creature illuminated by its own force. And on every surface stood candles. When lit the candles and the mirrors made the room into a sacred shrine.

“Forgive me as I must ask. Are you, indeed, already married to Ms. Barrett? Perhaps in Canada?” Mr. Smoot asked.

“No.” Ashley said taken aback by Smoot’s knowledge of such legalities. “Is it legal in Canada?” Ashley asked embarrassed at her own ignorance.

“Yes…it is…” He said surprised that she knew nothing about the laws of her ‘community’.

“Well then…em…Do you ‘want’ to be married?” He asked and the question felt powerful and loaded and Ashley took a moment to really clarify her thoughts and feelings.

“To Ms. Barrett, of course?” Smoot further specified.

“It has never been discussed before but now that it has come up…yes. Yes, I would like to marry Chelsea.” Ashley said and she was proud of herself. She did not let herself feel judged nor did she waiver in her conviction as it became clear and real.

“Very good.” He murmured. Then he pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. “According to Dame Thornton’s wishes these pieces of jewelry are to be used for the purposes of engagement and betrothal.” He said and he unlocked a small Victorian chest revealing a velvet-lined collection of jewelry. Ashley felt as though she was looking at the crown jewels themselves. On the top left he opened a small compartment following the directions on the page. He pulled an engagement ring elegantly designed in the Victorian fashion with a spiral of diamonds and sapphires.

“This is the engagement ring.” Smoot declared and handed it to Ashley. Then he pulled out a simple gold band. “And this, of course, is the wedding ring.”

She had seen both rings before as distant memories, but ever more familiar on Victoria’s hand when she delivered food to the house. The sight of the rings now in her possession moved her. She felt her throat tighten and her eyes fill with tears. For there was the unmistakable knowledge that Victoria was no longer alive and the thought was upsetting. The rings were a brilliant tribute to her memory. She felt the loss as if Richard might have –an unending heaving of sorrow. But it was temporary and Ashley knew this to be true. And although she had never seen the rings up close she had a vague suspicion that Richard had engraved something on the inside of the ring. The light was too dim in the Dame’s bedroom for her to see. So she moved closer to the window where the light of the streetlamp trickled in.

‘Victoria my all. Love Richard.’ Had all but been worn away. It was barely visible inside the small gold circle. It was the exact sentiment that Ashley was feeling and she realized that she had to formally propose to Chelsea. There was so much to do—so much preparation. Ashley wanted it to be special and terrifically romantic. But what if she said no, she wondered. How would she handle it? She couldn’t let those thoughts invade and so she focused her attention on the excitement of the proposal.

“Mr. Smoot?” She asked still awash in the mesmerizing moment.

“Yes?” He said sleepily.

“This account that we have access to…May I make a request for supplies for this evening? You may have to enlist Erin and Mr. Dillon’s help.” Ashley said enigmatically.

“Certainly.” He replied.

“We’ll go back to your office so that I might give you a list of specific instructions.” She said with growing excitement.

After they had shopped and been dressed in appropriate clothing, Ashley in a black Stella McCartney business casual skirt and Chelsea in a beautifully tailored Bruce Oldfield summer dress, they encountered two hours of etiquette along with the proper curtsy. They had been ushered though the immaculate corridors and various reception rooms at Buckingham Palace and now they sat in a magnificent parlor just outside of where Her Majesty the Queen takes meetings with dignitaries and heads of state.

“I think I’m dreaming.” Chelsea whispered.

“I’d pinch you if I could.” Ashley replied.

“Don’t you dare.” Chelsea said smiling. “I’m not sure what might happen if you pinch me.”

Ashley inched closer her hand in mock position.

“I might pee myself—STOP!” Chelsea said as she scooted down the ornate couch. Just then a gentleman appeared---the secretary to the Queen’s personal secretary, stood before them.

“Her Majesty will see you now.” He said softly then he turned the knob on the ornate door that led into the Queen’s parlor. She was clothed in a robin’s egg blue tailored dress and her signature pumps. She smiled amiably and had the familiar air of a kindly grandmother. However, her personality and her amazing charisma seemed to create an aura of power and refinement.

“Your Majesty may I introduce Ms. Ashley Coleman and Ms. Chelsea Barrett, heirs to Dame Chelsea Thornton’s estate.” The secretary said calmly. Ashley curtsied first and felt like a klutz then Chelsea stepped forward and curtsied perfectly as if she had done it all her life.

“Very nice to meet you both. My condolences. I’m so very sorry for your loss.” She said and her voice was kindly and maternal.

“Your majesty, it is a privilege.” Chelsea replied.

“Thank you so much for receiving us.” Ashley added.

“Dame Thornton was a friend of the monarchy. She was also one of the most profound philanthropists in England and abroad.” The Queen said.

“We’ve been informed of her charity by Mr. Smoot.” Ashley added.

“I’m sure you have. Many of our social programs are made possible through Government subsidies, taxes, etc. Dame Thornton’s foundations make up almost forty percent of the needed funds to keep these programs alive and to serve British citizens.” She explained. “It reaches into the areas of education in the form of financial assistance, scholarships and Schools wholly dependent on charity to give underprivileged children and foreign born nationals an equal foundation on which to learn. Then there is healthcare. Cancer research, HIV research, Alzheimer’s research and spinal cord injuries sustained by our forces in combat. Foundations to offset long term costs for chronic diseases and conditions and such.” She explained. Then her face brightened as if she had a secret. “The truly exciting work that Dame Thornton is responsible for are trusts set up for innovations in green technology and subsidies to promote the eventual abandonment of petroleum.”

“Wow. I did not know that.” Ashley said.

“I requested an audience with you both to ensure that these programs will remain intact.” The Queen continued.

“If I may, your majesty.” Chelsea began. “But we have no legal authority as of yet since the stipulation in her last will is that the two of us be married.”

“I see.” The Queen replied and her brow crinkled in consternation.

“We’ve been told it is not recognized by British law.” Ashley added.

“Civil Unions have been legal since 2005 with all the privileges of marriage.” The Queen replied.

“It stipulates marriage within a belief system, your majesty.” Chelsea explained. The Queen chuckled for a moment and shook her head as if remembering an anecdote or incident from the long forgotten past.

“God bless her. She is forcing her hand.” The Queen murmured. Then she gazed at Ashley and Chelsea and her demeanor became serious. “Are you aware of the seriousness of this responsibility?”

Chelsea took Ashley’s hand and clasped it tight. Ashley was simultaneously surprised and taken. “Yes we are.” She replied confidently.

“Do you love each other?” The Queen probed and it was absolutely out of character.

“Indisputably.” Chelsea replied without pause.

“I am head of the Church of England and therefore I am able to change ecclesiastical law. I must address parliament on this very issue. I find it curious that Dame Thornton exercised her power even in death to ensure social conscience and social change.” The Queen said. “I should like to know your thoughts on this.” She asked. The girl’s looked at each other and Chelsea gazed at the exquisite tapestries on the walls as she collected her thoughts.

“I’m not at all versed in the Bible or church doctrine, your majesty. I’m not a philosopher. I’m just a regular person. But if I look at the issue through the lens of anthropology, archeology and the socio-economic structures at the time these sacred books were written…I see small groups of people some two thousand years ago who needed to ensure their survival through their progeny in work and property. Women were property because they begat children. We live in a world where we must contend with vast over-population. Women and Children in the civilized world are not property. They are spiritual beings that are extensions of our soul families. Why shouldn’t everyone have en equal chance at happiness despite gender? Christian values seem to have evolved into exclusive and separatist ways of thinking a by-product of fear and misunderstanding. Doesn’t that go against all the belief systems---including the foundation of Christianity that say that we are not separate. We are one. We must be inclusive. I also want to say that I did not think I was a lesbian or anything like that. I am a heterosexual woman that happened to fall in love with another woman.” Chelsea explained and she took in a breath and seemed surprised at the eloquence of her own words.

“I’d like to add something if I may, your majesty.” Ashley said. “I concur with everything that Chelsea said. I also find it interesting that almost every other belief system especially the ancient ones have a doctrine in life after death. Rebirth, past lives. We see it in nature with the cycles of the seasons so why wouldn’t it be true of souls. ‘As above, so below’. Let’s say you fell in love with a young man, it was a passionate affair, had children, lived out your life and passed away all still deeply in tune with your mate. Then you are reborn into this world again and you find that same exquisite soul that you recognize from before and the passion is just as strong, abiding and palpable. But the young man you fell for returned as a woman. Would you love her no less?”