Page 18 of The Rest is History
If I thought seeing her as Anne Boleyn was surreal, then processing around the palace with her as my queen, her hand on my arm, is a total head fuck. Shelby’s wandered off to find Cassie, who plays Katherine Howard, and Rebekah—Catherine Parr. I think she wants to round them up and drag them to meet our shiny new member.
We carefully descend the main staircase (I can tell Elodie’s getting used to dealing with her long, full skirt) and emerge out into a sunny Base Court. There are tourists milling around here, and I feel unusually self-conscious as I lead her across cobblestones shiny with centuries of foot traffic.
I’ve held off from turning my head and looking directly at her. It’s too much in too short a space of time.
Seeing her outside of school, in a place that’s special to me. A place where I’m someone else completely.
Seeing her likethis. The woman of my fantasies dressed as the woman who’s beguiled and bewildered people for centuries, and this lowly academic for years.
And now, touching her. Her arm in mine. The fabric of her skirts brushing my (very attractive) white tights as we walk together.
I wonder how we look together. What kind of picture we make. Eye-catching, certainly, even if her pearls and my ermine are fake. Simultaneously at one with the profound history around us and at odds with the tourists in their denim cut-offs and Crocs and rucksacks.
Blending in and standing out.
But do we look cohesive?
All day, every day, all I feel is the weight of separation between our beings. In these instantly identifiable costumes, could we pass as a couple? Even a long-dead one?
Anne and Henry’s relationship was undoubtedly marred by power struggles and toxicity, by disappointment and delay, forso much of it. Eric Ives, the historian who’s conducted the most thorough rehabilitation of Anne’s character in recent decades, talks about the ‘gradient of catastrophe’ from her coronation to her execution. It can feel as though she and Henry waited years and years to be married (which they did; seven years, almost), and that the three short, busy, tumultuous years after they were wedded were like the downward spiral of a rollercoaster.
The sweet spot of their happiness was so fleeting.
I’ve noticed, therefore, that it makes visitors to the palace exceedingly happy to see Henry and Anne as an actual couple. Familiar. Intimate.Content.And that’s what I hope to give them once I’ve given Elodie a chance to warm up to both the role and this new dynamic with me.
It’s also a selfish move.
Obviously.
Because this is the closest I’ll ever allow myself to get to her.
The first visitors clock us and move right in.
I nudge Anne—I mean Elodie. ‘Ten o’clock.’
She breaks her visual survey of Base Court to look up at me. I jerk my head.
‘Oh. Should we?—’
‘Greetings, good sir!’ I boom as a family nears us, all four wearing headsets and holding the audio tour guide. The parents look amused and the two kids apprehensive. The public reacts to us in such weird ways. Some people get genuinely flustered, or star-struck, or intimated. They lose the power of speech and turn bright red.
I find it all highly amusing.
The dad plays ball. ‘Good morning, Your Highness!’ he exclaims heartily, elbowing his eldest kid in aisn’t this a larkkind of way. The boy looks like he wants to sink into the ground and die.
‘Actually,’—I soften my voice so I don’t sound like I’m lecturing them too much—‘you may address me asYour Majesty. I heard that the Holy Roman Emperor had employed this new title, so I have adopted it too. I rather like it.’
‘Your Majesty,’ the dad whispers, looking blindsided.
The daughter, probably eleven or twelve, is staring open-mouthed at Elodie.
I can relate.
She points. ‘Is that Anne Boleyn?’
Elodie seems to remember her role. ‘Yes, I am. Hi there.’ She gives a little wave. I’m sure she feels awkward. I felt utterly ridiculous the first time I played Henry. Now I find it terrifyingly natural.
The girl turns to her mother. ‘She’s so pretty,’ she stage-whispers.
