Fettigrew Hall - The Biography of a House

Fettigrew Hall - Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Exiting the tube at King’s Cross, she walked a block to the British Library. It was already 9:45 so it would be open. First on her list was the Magna Carta. She read, “ At her husband's death, a widow may have her marriage portion and inheritance at once and without trouble. She shall pay nothing for her dower, marriage portion, or any inheritance that she and her husband held jointly on the day of his death. She may remain in her husband's house for forty days after his death, and within this period her dower shall be assigned to her.’

Amazingly enlightened for 1215 A.D., she thought. It took longer than 40 days but I just couldn’t stay in our house with all those memories.

The room with old Bibles was fascinating, including the Codus Sinaiticus, fragments of scriptures, the original King James Version, beautiful illuminated bibles, and the Gutenberg. Wandering into the printing area she found Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer. She had been fascinated by him since reading his biography, which included translation of his Tales. He was one of the first Englishmen to write in Middle English, the forerunner of modern English, influenced by the 1066 invasion of England by the Normans.

After the surprise of a Beatles exhibit, she checked her watch to find that she had spent over three hours captivated by literary culture. It was time to head back to Kathryn’s.

Walking along the street she heard a man’s voice question, “Meghan?” She heard him but surely no one in London knew her. “Meghan!” He said again, with more urgency.

 Again she ignored him and continued walking. When he grabbed her arm, she turned, startled and afraid.

“Meghan, where have you been all this time?” He demanded. She felt such a swoon that she fell against him, nearly collapsing.

As he caught her in his arms, he said, “I’m so sorry. Here, let me help you.” Looking at her, he realized this was not Meghan. Of course he knew that in his heart anyway, but seeing her walking along the street had startled him terribly. There was something about the way that she walked, and he so wanted it to be her.

“Ma’am, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I say, are you all right?” Still Megan did not say anything.

“Here, let me find a place for you to sit down. Do you need a doctor?” As he questioned her, he led her into a nearby pub and placed her in a seat by the window. “Ma’am, are you going to be all right? Propping her against the corner, he ran to the bartender, asking for a wet cloth and a glass of water. Running back to her, he dabbed at her forehead, beginning to panic.

“Thank you, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what has come over me. I’m sorry to be a bother. I’m feeling a bit better now.” She picked up the water and took a sip.

“Will you be all right now? Should I get a doctor for you? I didn’t mean to startle you; it’s just that you look so much like someone I knew some time ago.”

She said, “I don’t know what has come over me, I’ve never done this before. I’m so embarrassed. Perhaps I should eat something.”

“Of course, let me find a menu.” He went running off again to the bar, telling the bartender that the woman seemed better and maybe just needed a bite to eat.

Returning, he asked if she would like some tea or something stronger.

“Perhaps some tea,” she suggested. “What did you call me?” she asked.

“Meghan,” he said and then stumbled into his apology and explanation again.

Again she felt a wave of faintness, as she said, “My name is Megan.”