Funeral for a friend

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"According to Bisley tradition, the governess put the girl's body in a stone coffin in the grounds, where it was found many years later, lying amongst rags of fine clothing. The substituted boy was called Neville, or such was the name of the name of the family he was living with at the time." From the book, "Famous Imposters"- Bram Stoker (390)

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His anxiety building, Neville raced back to the Manor. Ingle met him at the door.

"Is it my mother?" The physician nodded.

Within the hour, Lady Ashley and Lord. Parry arrived to find Neville in his mother's room, sitting with her lifeless body.

"Where were you?" Lord Parry asked unkindly. "We had to cover for you after you disappeared."

Deep in grief, Neville ignored the angry man.

"The King has left. We told him you had a sprained ankle." He hesitated than added, "He wished you a speedy recovery."

"Leave him be." Seeing Neville's demeanor, Lady Kat pulled Sir Parry away from the grieving boy.

She knelt beside Neville, who was holding his mother's hands. She could see unshed tears glistening in his eyes. "Neville, your mother will have to be buried in an unmarked grave. I'm sorry but we cannot have a public funeral for her."

Neville held the ring with the White Rose seal tightly in his hand. When he looked at her, his eyes were full of pain and resolve. "My mother and the Princess will be buried together."

Both Lady Ashley and Sir Parry were too shocked to respond. Neville had drawn a red line, an unspoken challenge to who was really in charge. It was a line neither of them wanted to cross.

Later that evening, the real Princess and Neville's mother were secretly laid to rest, side by side in an unused cellar alcove where aged wine had been stored. In the candle light, the room seemed to be floating in space, the smell of damp earth mixing with the scent of white roses lining the caskets. In the distance, church bells were ringing, calling the villagers to evening mass.

Princess Elizabeth, her hair neatly combed was dressed in a lemon yellow dress, trimmed with gold. Neville's mother was in a plain white linen shift. They looked surprisingly peaceful, like mother and daughter taking a nap together. It was the first time in a long time Neville remembered seeing his mother's face relaxed and free of pain.

He turned to face Lady Ashley and Sir Parry.
"I'd like a moment alone please."

After the two guardians had left, he gently placed the House of York ring on his mother's finger. "I'm going to make you proud of me, Mother." He looked at Elizabeth's small white face. "I'm not a puppet in their schemes. I'm going to honor both of your memories."

He was startled by the sound of a rustling dress next to him. Simone had quietly come to stand next to him. She held his hand as the workmen bricked up the alcove.

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