NB Although all of the great houses and historical figures are real, current period characters are purely from my imagination and have no link with anyone living or dead.

Part 2 The New Born

They put the boy on a gurney and then in the ambulance, draped a blanket on my shoulders and sat me in a seat in the back. My mother got in the front with the driver and we were off to the hospital in Colchester where I had been born. It looks as if the same venue would be the confirmation of my re-birth.

At the hospital my mother explained that I had been definitely her son this morning and they had the birth records to prove it. They gave me a full, and very embarrassing, examination and an ultra-sound. The results came back that I was girl, a real girl and had all the parts a real girl had. My blood, however, was exactly the type it had always been. No-one would believe that I had been changed by a spell, though, and my mother was given some strange looks and was taken off by a shrink to see if she was hallucinating.

When she got back I was sitting in a chair, wearing a hospital gown, and she got the nurse to take a few measurements and then rushed off to get me something to wear home. I did ask “Not a dress, please” so, when she got back, naturally she had bought a skirt instead. She took me into a bathroom and dressed me in a bra and panties, a summer top and a denim skirt and, when I stepped into new pink sneakers I was able to be released as fit, healthy and able to bear children.

She rang my father to come and pick us up and, while we were waiting, we asked about the lad that had come in with me. They said that he, too, was declared fit and that they had taken care of his hair. He was in a room not far away and, when we went in he took a look at me and said “Princess, thank you, my Princess. Your kiss saved me from my eternal damnation”. He looked a lot cleaner and, I shuddered to think, even quite attractive with his buzz-cut. Damn, it looked as if that ‘all girl’ bit was already kicking in.

My mother said “He looks about your old size” and produced my earlier outfit from a plastic bag. We got him into it and he did not look happy with the shorts. “Men do not wear such flimsy raiment” he cried and my mother said that we would get him something better when we got him home. He was totally enraptured by the hospital as we walked out of it, looking as if he had never seen the like. That was nothing to what he acted when we got outside and my father opened the doors of the car for us. My mother sat in the front and the two of us new-borns sat in the back. He needed help with the seat belt and, as we pulled away, he started shaking so I reached over and took his hand, giving it a squeeze. He looked shocked and whispered “Princess, you would touch a lowly vassal such as me?”

He then asked “Horses, are the horses invisible, what sort of world have I woken to?” I told him not to worry; we did not need horses to move us these days. My father asked “What can you tell us about yourself, young gentleman?” The lad had a bit of a think and then said “I was born in a manor called Estaines Parva. My father was some sort of nobleman and my mother was a chambermaid. When he decided to marry he sent my mother and I to work for a gentleman of his acquaintance, a Thomas Paycocke. We had to walk all the way and it took several days, going due east most of the time. On the way my mother was insistent that I use my fathers’ surname in future and made me repeat ‘I am Tristan DeHavilland Bourchier until I was able to recite it in my slumber. Her name was Anne DeHavilland.”

My father said “Bourchier was the second Earl of Essex and he married Mary Say in 1512. He had quite a good career and was a Knight of the Garter. So, how did you end up as a frog?” I had to stifle a giggle at that and my father looked seriously at me in the mirror. Tristan then said “Your Highness, I am sorry to say that it was because of boyish stupidity.” My father said “You do not need to call me Your Highness, I am no nobility” to which Tristan replied “But your daughter here is a Princess, the witch said that it would only be a Princess that would wake me with her kiss.”

My father was driving very carefully and then asked “Do you remember how you had the spell cast on you and do you remember the exact words of the spell?” Tristan said “Well, sire, I was sent to Bocking by my master Thomas to collect some rolls of baize which had been ordered by one of the local lords to refit his billiard table. There were two other lads with me and we had a horse and cart. We collected the baize in Bocking and, as we started to return home, I spied a nice little orchard with some juicy apples ready for the plucking. I told the others to carry on and that I would catch them up and jumped the fence to pick a few apples. That is when a young witch stormed out of the house and caught me. She screamed at me about stealing apples and looked back at the house where an older woman was standing at the door. The older woman nodded and the girl put the spell on me. The last thing I remember was that I would live for eternity trapped as a frog until I was kissed and the only person that could free me must be a princess. No! She said that the person shalt be a princess.”

My father nodded wisely and even I could see the difference. The spell as cast would make the person who kissed the frog a princess, even if she was, at the time, a guy. That gave us one answer but left a lot more to be addressed. My father then said “You should feel right at home tonight, then. The house where you worked still exists but needed to be saved from demolition. You can sleep there for a while until we can work out your future.” My mother piped up “He is the same size as Brian so he can wear Brians’ clothes. We are going to get more for her now; I really cannot see her in those band tee-shirts.”

When we got to West Street Tristans’ eyes widened as he saw the front of the Paycocke House when we slowed to turn into the driveway of our own place. It was only then when I realised that we had been holding hands the whole way. I said “You can let go, now, we have stopped.” And I saw him smile for the first time and it made me catch my breath. My father drove up beside the house and we got out. My father plugged in the recharge connection and my mother went into our house to raid my wardrobe while my father and I took Tristan back over the road to the House. He was fearful as my father opened the front door with his key. I said “It is all right, we always go in this way” and he replied “All the years I was here, I never entered the house proper. It was not something that a yardman did.” We gave him the royal tour of the lower floor and the outbuildings. At one point he broke down into tears and said “This is the shed where I slept. I buried my mother under the floor when she died.” Back in the house we went upstairs and showed him the bedrooms. My father said he could use the Great Chamber and he went white, saying “Sire, I cannot use the masters’ room, it is not seemly!”

My father then sat him down on the bedside chair and looked him in the eyes. “Tristan” he said in a stern voice “You have every right to sleep in this bed. Firstly, none of the fittings in the house are original so it is not really the masters’ bed. Secondly, you are the only living male to be fathered by Henry Bourchier. When he died in 1540 he had only sired daughters. With his death the Earldom was extinguished. If you had lived, you may well have been made the Third Earl of Essex so you are of far better blood than the Paycockes who lived in this house.” Tristan smiled again and then said “That does not help me now, does it, sire?”

Just then I heard my mother call and I went to the top of the stairs. She had an old suitcase in her hand which I expected held every scrap of good stuff I had owned. She passed it to my father, telling him to instruct Tristan about how to wear modern clothing and to show him how electricity worked, the house having been fitted with smoke detectors and sprinklers, as well as some lighting and alarm systems. We left the men to it as she pulled me down the stairs and out of the house, saying “Sarah and Stella saw us get home and they popped in to get me tell you that you will be eating at their house this evening and that they had a lot of their old clothes for you to try on. It makes me laugh to think that I am telling my son to try his girlfriends’ clothes on but it will be a good help until we can get you into the shops to get your own.”

So she let me go along the road to the girls’ house where I was welcomed in. They had shown their parents the video of my change so they were not surprised at the new look but then said how beautiful I had become, which made me blush. That late afternoon and evening I was a clothes horse to a lot of items I had seen the two girls wearing in previous years and we giggled a lot. In the end I not only had a lovely meal with my new sisters but also came away with bags of used undies, tops, skirts, dresses and nightwear to last me months, or so I thought. I did start to learn, as the days went by, that a girl can never have enough clothes or shoes.

I was happy that I remained as Sarahs’ best friend Biff; even though she assured me that she was not a lesbian and was not going to change for me. Standing in her bedroom, totally naked, while the two of them were in their underwear, showing me how to deal with various items of female apparel, cemented the new normal. We were now all girls together and I have to say that when they asked about Tristan, I had butterflies in my tummy as I told them the story.

Marianne Gregory © 2022

NB Although all of the great houses and historical figures are real, current period characters are purely from my imagination and have no link with anyone living or dead.

Part 3 Finding Myself

The girls helped me carry my booty home and both gave me a cheek kiss before they left. My mother and I carried things up to my room and dumped everything on the bed as we went back for more. When I looked I saw that she had been busy while I was down the road; my room was now much more fitting as a girls’ room, my macho posters gone, and the wardrobe and drawers standing open, waiting for me to fill up again.

We hung, folded and stored everything except a nice gown and a nightie. My mother then took me into the bathroom where I was shown what items I now used and how I used them. She then showed me how to remove the make-up the girls had put on my face and, when I looked in the mirror I could see how much it helped. I had gone from pretty to stunning with just a few coats of paint.

I undressed after that and put on the nightie and gown, joining my parents downstairs for a cup of hot cocoa before bed. My father told me that Tristan seemed to be taking being alive quite well, almost as much as I was taking being changed into a girl. I told him that neither of us could do much about it now unless we ran across a modern witch who could turn me back. My mother said “Do you want to turn back?” and I had to think about that.

I said “The problems I see are all around my new identity. I did my learners test as Brian, I can’t see them letting non-Brian taking the practical. I am enrolled in the University as Brian, all my paperwork, my banking, even my library card, are as Brian.” My father just said “None of those are insurmountable. I was wondering how you wanted to go through life. As a man you would be a worker and respected for that; as a woman you will walk the fine line between respect and ridicule. You will get up every day having to decide what to wear, how to act and how to stay safe. Do you really want that?”

I thought a bit, looked at my mother and said “It didn’t do my mother any harm. She had a good career and created a family. What can a man do that tops that?” My mother smiled and said “She got you there, Bill, not a woman for twenty-four hours yet and she already can shoot a mere man down in flames, and, if I am not wrong, captured a young mans’ heart.” I blushed. She then said “Tomorrow we need to go to the salon and get you sorted out, that hair needs taming and the eyebrows are too bushy. We will also get you some more basic bits of underwear and nightwear to see you right. Then we will have to find you some shoes, you will not be living in sneakers every day like you did as Brian.”

My father then said “Yes, Brian, we can’t call you that any more. Have you any idea what you would like to be called in future, so we can start getting the ID changes under way.” I thought and asked “If I had been born this way, what had you picked?” My mother smiled and said “Beverley, dear, you would have been Beverley Francis Fulton.” I contemplated it and considered that Beverley Bourchier may be nice and then nodded, saying “Beverley it is, then; let us do it!”

I had a fitful sleep, being firstly unable to find a comfortable position but not wanting to sleep on my back; secondly because I was having flashbacks of the moment the spell changed me, maybe for good. I did end up on my left side with my knees bent and my right hand clutching my left breast and finally went to sleep. I suppose previous experience took over during the night because I half-woke with my left nipple being caressed and the fingers of my left hand between my legs. It was something I had done with Sarah and it seemed to have made her happy so I allowed habit to take over and the end result was the most amazing orgasm I had ever had, it seemed to roll through me like thunder and then came back for more.

I was shaken when I went out to the toilet to relieve myself and went back to bed to contemplate what had just happened. If this was what being a girl was about; there was no way I would want to go back. It was about two in the morning and I wondered how Tristan was sleeping and, of course, I started to think about things he and I could do together and at about three I was back in the toilet to clean myself up after an experience that would never have crossed my mind as Brian. The spell must have been very powerful, even cast wrongly by a child.

When I did wake next day I felt as if I had crossed the line. I would embrace the new me and be the best princess I could be, if not for Tristan then for some other strong man who could pleasure me and look after me and my children. I went to the bathroom and showered, washing my long hair for the first time and finding out how difficult it was to get it dry again. My mother finally came to my aid with her hair drier and a brush. She quietly said “I woke in the night and I think I heard you find yourself. It is something we girls all do but usually earlier in life. It did sound as if you liked it.” I did blush as I nodded.

Today I dressed as a proper lady, one of the dresses I had snared yesterday being a mid-calf shift in bright orange. There was even a pair of sling-backs that just about fitted. When I looked in the mirror it was a stunning sight with my black hair against the orange. I could tell why Sarah had discarded the dress; her blondeness would not have done it justice. I was a little late for breakfast and my father had already gone over the road. I sat at the kitchen table to eat while my mother listed all of the things that I needed to have done before she was satisfied that her daughter was presentable in Coggeshall society.

She helped me apply some make-up and we walked into the town. The first stop was the salon she frequented where they said they could fit me in later in the day. The next shop was a shoe store where she spent a fair bit getting me fitted with some everyday shoes and a couple of pairs of boots; steering clear of anything remotely sporty. They put our bags aside for us to pick up and we then went to a place that would have been totally alien to me before, being stocked with things I had only seen in magazines and, sometimes on Sarah in our most intimate moments. We spent an hour there and I must say I enjoyed it after getting past that first moment of apprehension.

I did ask her about the cost and she told me that it was expected that daughters cost more than sons to outfit and that I had been a very cheap son to clothe, being careful with what I had. She said “Beverley, a girl has to look good or else she gets a reputation as a tramp. You look good and you feel good and it makes you do good things. Looking good helps you study, looking good helps you interact with everyone and looking good will get you a good man. It is all in the presentation. A first impression is more important for a girl because it will show the direction in how you will be treated by normal people. Of course, there will be those who do not care about how you look; only what they can get out of you, and they are the ones you have to watch out for.”

We picked up the shoe bags on our way back to the salon and everything was piled into a corner for my mother to pick up with the car. I then discovered that the spell only worked on my structure, not those other things. In the fifteen hundreds women did not go to the lengths that they do today so my body now needed to have all the hair that looked good on a boy taken away. I was waxed to within an inch of my life and appointments made for future treatments. My hair was washed again, cut and shaped and then I had the mani-ped works, wondering why I needed painted toenails that were usually hidden in shoes. I also wondered how on earth I was going to manage with the extra half an inch of bright red fingernails that were now firmly attached.

The final part was having my ears pierced and then a full make-up session where we found out what my palette was and a parcel made up of the products that worked best for me. The lady who worked on me commented that she was looking forward to getting me ready for a social occasion because she said I would look fabulous in full evening make-up and my hair put up, a real centre-fold for the social pages. I was finding the attention nice, if a little difficult to believe.

We put the essentials into the new bag I had been carrying; lipstick always needing to be ready. I had my old wallet and some papers in it so we went off to have a bite to eat in the little café before going to the police station to ask about my driving test. In this day and age, post-covid, whenever you did anything important, like getting a learners permit, they issued a photo ID with vax information. They also took a swab for drugs, another to get a DNA profile and even put your fingerprints on file. The covid and the lockdowns had allowed Big Brother to gain the upper hand and I suppose the next step would be an injected ID.

At this time, though, it was a help. After the initial disbelief that I was the person on the photo, they pulled my file and then compared my fingerprints which were only different in area, a girl having smaller fingers. As an extra comparison they did the swabs and told me to come back later that week so that they could re-issue the paperwork with my new picture and the proper gender shown. This would go a long way to getting the rest of my paperwork changed and to getting my new name registered.

Back at home I started dinner while my mother took the car to collect our purchases. My father came in with Tristan following, looking every inch a modern lad in some of my old clothes. When my mother got back he helped us carry the bags to my room and I was little embarrassed as he took in the starkness of it. I so wanted him to see my girlness and this plain room did nothing for my image. Still, he gave me that wonderful smile which made my tummy quiver. He then said “Princess, every time we meet, you have become more beautiful than before.” So I put my arms around his neck and kissed him for the second time. This time I was not blown away but, instead, melted into a quivering mass of jelly until our lips parted. He looked startled but then smiled again, saying, “Thank you, my Princess, for giving me my life back. I am sure that there would be a nobleman who will woo you better than I. I have nothing except that which has been given me; I am a nothing.”

I said “Tristan, you are not a nothing. You are a wonderful man who has to find your way in a world that you could never have imagined. You will do well, I know it, and if you think that you need wealth and status to have my love you are so wrong” and I kissed him again.

Marianne Gregory © 2022

NB Although all of the great houses and historical figures are real, current period characters are purely from my imagination and have no link with anyone living or dead.

Part 4 Playing a New Part

I knew I was in trouble when he didn’t put his arms around me. When I had kissed him I brought my own arms down and stepped back. I said “I’m so sorry Tristan, I am so new at this girl thing I assumed you liked me.” He looked sad and then said the fateful words.

“I do like you, Princess. I respect you and will be eternally grateful to you for bringing my life back to me. In my time the man could spend years wooing his chosen woman and they usually were chosen for their position or their wealth. I loved my mother but I have never loved another woman and I am not really sure what I should feel. Please grant me a little time.” I held back my tears and told him I understood when I really knew I didn’t. We went back down and sat down for a proper meal. On the way down the stairs I asked him if my father had introduced him to Chinese food as delivered and he said that it was new and exciting but left a funny taste in his mouth.

Over dinner my father was quite animated. He told us that his plans were that Tristan would take my place as a guide, dressed in authentic clothing, and would tell visitors the story of life at the House as a true tale, not something we thought went on. That way Tristan could be added to the volunteer crew and also get given intensive schooling in reading and writing; something he was sadly lacking. I thought that it would work well once Tristan became used to strangers. My time, I gathered, would be taken up with becoming Beverley in thought and action as well as officially listed everywhere needed once the licence snag was cleared. He had called his friends and cancelled my visits to other sites.

As the next few days panned out, it was good that I had the time to spare. Sarah and Stella took me under their wings and gave me guidance in getting over my first broken heart as well as living through my first period that started not three days after my transformation. It was during that time I learned that a girls’ life is not all wine and roses. Oddly, the period actually made the lack of Tristans’ love seem trivial.

My father had spent those same days in a mad dash to be ready for the visitors that weekend. We had a coach-load of pensioners booked for a tour and if that was not a baptism of fire for Tristan, I don’t know what was. I spent some time with them and Tristan and I settled in a friendly relationship, actually a bit like brother and sister. He and I went through the clothing stores and we redressed the mannequins around the house in more authentic clothing as well as finding a proper outfit for me to wear as a scullery maid.

When I tried it on his eyes went moist so I asked him why. He just said that it reminded him of Sally, a maid in the household and a girl he had been friendly with. So I was given a quick lesson in Sally, her life and her duties so that we could use it on the visitors. I was also given some training in how to speak like a Tudor wench. That week he also had a thorough training in the use of modern toilets and the need to be clean once my father had caught him crapping in the bushes. It seemed that, in 1500, there was no need for a wash unless you got really dirty and, of course, there were no crappers then.

On the Friday afternoon, my friends played the part of visitors when Tristan; dressed much the same way he had been when we first saw him but a lot cleaner and now with a nit-less wig that was close to his own hair, gave us his practise tour. I have to say that it made the place seem real as he described the duties of every one of the family and staff with me and him describing them as if having a conversation about our fellow workers. Previously we had been glossing over the actual work that Thomas and Margaret needed to do before, thinking that they were just the ‘toffs’ and I found out that they had a place in the fabric of the house as much as the servants.

Going through the house was a new experience as well. Tristan had been through every room, telling my father what had not been available in 1516, the year he ‘disappeared’; and they had removed those items to the store-room. They had also recreated the outbuilding that Tristan had slept in, even putting in a crude bunk which he now used himself, feeling more at home there. He had made a crude wooden cross which was resting against the wall in memory of his mother and he described her death and his burying her under the floor. They had even spread some soil over the concrete to faithfully depict it as it was the last time Tristan had slept there. I had to walk out as it made me want to cry.

The other thing that made me want to cry was the obvious looks Sarah had been giving him. He had never seen her before, being unconscious at the time, and she had never seen him walking and talking so I suppose I should not have been surprised that he hit her in the heart as he had done with me. What was the odd part was that he started to talk to her as if he was telling her his story. After the tour finished Alec said to me “I have been through this place several times before, helping out, but it never seemed as real as it did today. Another thing that looks real is the relationship that Sarah and Tristan may develop.”

After I had changed back into a normal outfit my mother and I went off to the police station to see whether my name change was possible. The sergeant took us to an interview room and sat us down while he opened a file. He said that as this was a special case they had gone into the data base to find any matches. He told us that my fingerprints were an exact match with the originals, my blood type was the same but my DNA swab now had a slight difference. He had pulled my mothers’ DNA from the database and we were a ninety-eight percent match, well within the guidelines. What was odd was that our DNA was a good match with a family of noble birth called the de Veres. The spell had been almost right as it put us both on a noble line. Maybe being a Princess was not so far off the mark. Before we left I had my official records changed and was issued a new learners licence with my new picture and, most importantly, the F in the right place.

My mother said that she had come from Suffolk stock and had been told that she was a descendent of a family called Shernborne. When we got home I turned on my computer and we did some family research and the investigation showed that a Margaret Spring had married Aubrey de Vere, the second son of John de Vere, an Earl of Oxford. Their daughter, Anne, had married Christopher Shernborne and had a son called Francis. My mother said “Well that explains where the Francis comes down the line in my family. It was quite likely that John and Thomas Paycocke had dealt with the Spring family of Lavenham, both being grazier clothiers.”

Friday evening my parents had booked a table for all of us at the White Hart. It was a new experience for Tristan to actually go inside. It had been a way-station for coaches in his day and he told us that it had quite a reputation for its slatterns that entertained any travellers staying over. These days, of course, it was just a boutique hotel with a good dining area. We had a nice meal with Sarah making sure she sat next to Tristan and making his acquaintance.

Very early on Saturday morning we put out cones in the street outside the House for the coach to unload its passengers before it went off to park in the town at the car-park behind the Parish Council. The driver would come back then and join the tour. My mother went to the coffee shop and started making sandwiches, setting out the cakes that had come in from a bakery, and getting the urn hot. My father opened up the doors, made sure all of the warning signs were in place (a lot of entrances being both narrow and stepped) before setting up the brochures at the reception desk. When I was a lot younger I remembered my parents being here seven days a week in the season but, post-covid, we were just going with weekends until the things got back to normal. One of the odd things was that people did not want to walk far from their cars yet. There was no parking at the House and you had to park at the Grange Barn, some ten minutes’ walk away, a thirteenth century barn now open as a museum.

We were ready when the coach arrived at eleven, Sarah and Stella, now in suitable garb, helping the elderly folk out and escorting them to the Hall where Tristan and I waited to start the tour. As they came in I saw that we had some other visitors as well as one person I remembered who I knew was from the Trust head office, probably to see if we were up to scratch. Tristan introduced himself with his own name and we began the tour of the ground floor and the outside areas. There was not enough room for a whole group to go up the stairs and I could see that many from this party would not be able to climb the steep and narrow stairways anyway.

We did our conversation about the people who lived here and the things that had to be done. I must say that I enjoyed it and Tristan really made it real. Sarah and Stella were mainly there to stop people wandering off and getting stuck in doorways. No-one left the tour until we finished with me explaining that there was a first floor but that anyone who went up should be very careful on the stairs, especially coming down.

The bulk of the party went off to the coffee shop and the outside tables and benches, with the younger visitors trying the upstairs. Sarah and Stella acted as waitresses while Tristan and I were cornered by the chap from NT who was gushing in his praise for our presentation, telling us that it was if we had lived in the time. He asked who had thought up all of the interesting characters we spoke about and I said that they were all genuine people who had lived in the house at between 1500 and 1515 and that I had researched that knowledge from an impeccable source.

After that I went up to the reception desk to see my father and I noticed that he had put an urchins’ cap on the desk with a note that said “For your guides”. I asked him if he had seen the guy from NT and he said that they had told him that someone was coming but that everyone this morning had come through reception and paid the fee so the chap may have been trying to inspect us under cover. I then saw the chap heading our way so I said “Here he comes now” and headed off to help my mother and answer questions from those who had gone upstairs.

When we had said goodbye to all the visitors and checked the house and gardens for any strays, we gathered in the Great Hall and my father said that we had all done very well. He then told the others about the NT inspection which we had passed with flying colours, the chap from the Trust was only sad that I, as Sally, would be going off to University before the end of the season because he had never been so engrossed in a tour before, having been at hundreds. He had also reported his happiness that the tour had been carried out by competent teenagers. I had not thought too much about it but the covid must have cut a swathe through the older volunteers. The tips that were in the cap were all for Tristan to give him a start in his new life and the poor lad nearly keeled over when he was told the amount. He had earned more in a few hours than he would have in two life-times when he was a youngster.

Marianne Gregory © 2022

NB Although all of the great houses and historical figures are real, current period characters are purely from my imagination and have no link with anyone living or dead.

Part 5 Changes Afoot!

Tea that evening was fish and chips from the shop, finished with some of the left-over cakes with ice cream. We had another coach-load on Sunday, this time a service club up from London, hopefully a little more agile than todays’ lot. Tristan was now showering every evening in our bathroom before going over the road to sleep, His wardrobe and personal items now stored in one of the out buildings we didn’t open to the public.

Sunday we all did our thing again and it went down well. One odd thing was that the chap from NT was back with another couple of office types and they filmed us on two mobile phones as we went around. It didn’t bother me much and Tristan had no idea what they were doing so we gave out the information, got some laughs and generally must have made everyone happy considering the weight of the coins in the hat again.

Monday was my start to get a lot of things changed; now I had the new licence in my new name. Tristan and my parents spent the day cleaning the House and tidying the garden for next weekends’ visits. I made an appointment with a solicitor in Colchester to work on an official name change and I went around to all the places where I had been listed as Brian to say I was not Brian any more.

Alec and Stella came with me but Sarah opted to help clean the House – the first time ever! Most of the places were quite happy to make the change on seeing my licence but the librarian was not so helpful. Even showing her the clip of my change on Stellas’ phone was not enough so I got her to ring the police station and speak to the sergeant before she would issue me with a new library card. Ridiculous; a bit of cardboard that allowed one to borrow books was harder to get than a laminated licence to drive a deadly weapon!

The downside to this activity was that we were sitting in the local café having a break when a reporter from the local paper came in and made a bee-line for our table. He wanted to know if the story he had heard was correct and that I had changed sex by kissing a frog. We had to say that the story was right, having already told the police and several others in Coggeshall. One thing we had not told them was that the frog had become a teenage man from 1516, something the reporter homed in on when Stella showed him the clip to prove our story. He immediately wanted to interview Tristan but we pleaded with him to hold on until Tristan was fully able to be part of the world that he now lived in.

I said “How would you feel if you woke up and it was 2525 and a guy was shoving a microphone under your nose, asking how you found the world?”

We assured him that he would get full and exclusive access if he took it easy. I suggested that he come along to our tour next weekend because the story we told was true in every respect. He said that he would write the story about me being changed for the next edition so we gave him a potted history of Brian and the description of being changed. He took some photos of us on his phone and had me posing for a couple. He said that he could get the ‘before’ picture from my school photos which the newspapers’ photographer took. So much for privacy! I, for one, was learning more about the world I lived in since my transformation than all of the years I had happily been Brian.

The thing was that I could not keep my change secret and I could not pretend that I had transformed naturally as that would involve examinations, operations and a whole heap of government bodies; on top of a year or more to get through the process. No. the only way to explain the sudden change could only be magic or alien intervention and I thought that magic may be the safest way. Who would want to be known as a bloke who had been abducted by aliens and returned as a beautiful girl? Come to think about that, there are probably thousands who wouldn’t mind.

Tuesday my father took me to the University to have my course application changed. That was no big deal for them as they had dealt with transgendered students before. I still wanted to do history so it was just a matter of making sure my tutors knew who I was, or had been. While we were in the town we went to a couple of the bigger car yards to have a look for a car that I could use.

With the rise of electrics and the comparatively short distances I would normally travel we were looking for an older EV or hybrid which we could afford. The new ones were pretty expensive still but we did find a small Toyota Prius Hybrid a few years old that fitted the bill. My father had a test drive and I sat in the driving seat to see how I felt and, both being happy with it, he put a deposit on it so they could prepare it for delivery. Alec already had one similar in bright red and I had earlier wanted the same colour. However, the one I picked was in a light blue, much more the new me.

It would be registered in my name and I felt pretty good about that. Except for a house, a car in your name was a sure sign of growing up. Needless to say, when I started totting up the costs involved that I would have to stump up later on, it looked a little daunting. We had the appointment with the solicitor later in that afternoon so had a late lunch in the town before wandering in the shops for a while. My father bought me a lovely necklace and ear-ring set and kissed me on my cheek, saying “I may have lost a son but what I have gained will light up my life.” I teared up at that. The appointment went well, we had my police licence and paperwork from the University and he did not even ask how I had changed before preparing the submission for us, telling us that it would take a couple of weeks to be notarised and that he would send us the papers. My father paid the bill and we went home.

Wednesday we found out what the guys from NT were after. My father got a call in the morning and was asked if he, and the rest of us, could be available in the afternoon as they wanted to talk. Of course we agreed so were on tenterhooks until they turned up at the House. We met in the coffee shop with my mother putting on a kettle. There were a few cakes left over from Sunday as well.

The discussion started with them asking Tristan why he chose the name he gave at the start of our tour and Tristan answered “Because that is my name, sire, everything we tell you in our discussion is true.”

That, of course, led to having to tell them the truth about him. I had the clip on my phone that Stella had sent me so I showed it to them, saying that before I kissed the frog I was a boy called Brian. It took them a lot of time to get their heads around the story, especially the part where one of us was born around 1495, the illegitimate son of Henry Bourchier.

The fact that Tristan could tell them about life in the 1504 to 1512 period in the household at Little Eastern, or, as it was back then, Estaines Parva; was enough to convince them that Tristan was the real deal. This made them very excited indeed, as you can imagine, and one declared “This makes what we came for so much more real.”

That was when we found out why they wanted to talk to us. Our presentation was something that had been lost because of tourist guides becoming just that; older volunteer guides with some knowledge. Our first-hand presentation made it so much more real for the visitors. They had taken the clips that they took back to the office and shown them to all and sundry, creating quite a stir, or so they said. There was, in the pipeline, a grand opening of Little Eastern Manor, near Dunmow, a new acquisition for NT that had been given in payment of Inheritance Tax. This was to take place in July and they were planning a big event, possibly with royalty attending.

They had already engaged some younger actors from a local drama school to handle the presentation and tour of the current house which, although very grand, is two to three hundred years younger than where Tristan grew up. They had wanted us to open the show with a vignette of life in the earlier days and referencing the times that the Bourchiers’ lived there. Now, however, they could see more of an introduction to the whole area of land.

I had done some digging and found out that Tristans’ father, Henry, had been a member of the Privy Council to Henry the Seventh and was a very senior member of the royal court. His only living daughter, Anne, had married William Parr, brother to Catherine Parr, the last wife of Henry the Eighth. They had lived there until Anne left William Parr and Parr lost the land when he got into the bad books of the royalty.

Tristans’ grandparents were William Bourchier and Anne Woodville. William died in 1480 when Henry was about five or six. There was no male to rein him in when he started to feel his oats which was how Tristan came about when his Henry was in his early twenties. The real surprise was that his Tristans’ great-grandparents were very well connected.

His great-grandfather, Henry, the First Earl of Essex, was a Knight of the Garter and a great grandson of Edward the Third. His great-grandmother was Isabel of Cambridge, the aunt to Edward the Fourth and Richard the Third. The big house that Tristan had grown up in was totally gone now and the new Manor was some way from the site, built over the remains of an old hunting lodge. After Parr, the land had been reacquired then given to a Henry Maynard in 1590 by Queen Elizabeth the First.

Prior to the time of Tristan, however, the land was a favourite hunting estate that the Plantagenets’ visited often which was when Henry Bourchier and Isabel Plantagenet had got together. Actually, I should have said de Bourchier as that is how the family had been known for the generations that they lived in Halstead.

The discussion got fairly heated then and the upshot was that they wanted both Tristan and I, plus any others that we thought appropriate, to write and present a ten to fifteen minute presentation that will take the attendees on the start of their journey. We were told that professional script-writers were now preparing scripts that the other volunteers would present in the same manner as us; small groups for each era of the present house. The present house did have a lot of interesting history, not so much regal but more showbiz since the turn of the twentieth century.

We were given the date of the opening and told that all our passes would be posted to us once we had decided on how many we would need. Accommodation would be in the Manor itself and we should get there on the Saturday for the opening Sunday. Prior to that we would be expected to go and rehearse with the other presenters a few times.

I think we all got caught up in the excitement, my father itching to write our script, with my help of course, and Tristan was keen to see where he grew up again, not that there would be much still existing. Before they left we did tell our visitors that there would be a newspaper article about me next week with a follow-up about Tristan so we may both be celebrities by the time we arrived in Little Eastern. That it was just that easy!

Marianne Gregory © 2022

NB Although all of the great houses and historical figures are real, current period characters are purely from my imagination and have no link with anyone living or dead.

Part 6 In the Public Eye

When the article in the paper was printed, we started to get a lot of attention. Many of the local lads found out where I lived and sent me letters to tell me how beautiful I was and that they wanted to marry me.

“Yes” I thought “For a few nights, only!” Thankfully, my phone number was not printed and I did not get pictures of cocks sent to me.

Other than the headline ‘The Fish-Kisser of Coggeshall – thrown back by a Frog!”; I must say that the article was very well written, giving the basic facts of who I had been before with a potted history up to the ‘Frog Affair’ with before and several after photos. It did say that I was one of the presenters at Paycockes; that my parents looked after.

For the following weekend we had a bumper crowd at our tours, the reporter and his photographer on the Saturday with the reporter recording our presentation. I was the centre of attention but I did my best to be professional as a Trust Guide and deflect unwanted discussions. On the Sunday we had someone from the Dunmow School of Drama who spoke to my father afterwards, asking if we could come up and speak with them during the week.

On Monday my father took me and Alec down to Colchester to collect my car. With my plates on and Alec beside me we went back home. I was now mobile and would be very mobile once I had passed the test. I had been driving with my father and Alec (in his Prius) for some months so thought that it would not take much more to get me through. I booked the test for the following week.

In the meantime, we had started to put together our presentation. Alec, Stella and Sarah were keen to be part of it and we had a rough outline where I played the part of Anne DeHavilland, Tristans’ mother, and opened up with a brief discussion about the Plantagenets and the First Earl before getting to the Second Earl and his dalliance with me.

Then Tristan and Sarah would join me and we would talk about life at Estaines, with Sarah as one of the scullery maids that Tristan had been friendly with between 1500 and 1512, when we were sent away. Then I introduced Stella and Alec as Anne and Willian Parr who described their own chaotic time on the land.

Well, she did leave him and he did get Parliament to annul the wedding and declare any children illegitimate, the swine. After that I finished my MC part by introducing the first of the other presenters to carry on with the Maynards and beyond.

By the time we got to Dunmow in two cars we had the bulk of it written with just some of Tristans memories to be put into words. Much of Tristans’ dialogue was ‘off the cuff’ because he didn’t read but the script helped us. I drove my car with my mother beside me and Tristan and Sarah in the back, holding hands. Alec drove his with my father and Stella.

We were able to run though the presentation so far with someone filming us so that the following presenters could see how they could seamlessly link with us. After that we were led, in a convoy, out to the Manor where we would do the presentation. It would take place on a lawn area and we would have a marquee where we would change and get our make-up.

We took pictures and asked questions and Tristan asked about the original house, being told that this one was on the site of an old hunting lodge and his face went white. He then had his bearings and led us off some way and pointed out the original site of the main manor.

The Trust chap with us had a wealth of knowledge and nodded as Tristan pointed out roughly where all the out-buildings had been sited. The original building, being mainly wooden, had not left any marks we could see but geo-phys had allowed them to map it.

He then saw a large old oak tree and started towards it. The Trust chap said “Wait, Tristan. Tell us what you expect to find as nothing has been found in that direction.” Tristan said “There was a smaller oak tree at that spot and it had a carving in it. My mother told me that the carving was done by Edward the Fourth and his wife, Elizabeth Woodville, when they stayed here on their honeymoon in 1460.” We all followed him and watched as he examined the tree.

Of course, anything carved five hundred years ago could now be a little hard to find but he did, finally, let out a cry and pointed to a spot about six feet from the ground. The Trust chap took a picture on his phone. He was jubilant and showed us why. There was a carving, very old, of a heart and two ‘E’s intertwined with the date 1460 underneath. He told us that it was a rare example of Edwards own work and would have protection from vandals next time we came up.

On the way back Tristan took me aside as we walked and told me that his mother had told him that the hunting lodge was where he had been conceived. That was something I could add to the talk! Actually, Tristan and Sarah were walking together, hand in hand, while Alec was walking alongside me.

Stella had been mixing with the drama school members since we had arrived and I noticed was taking particular notice of a very handsome lad with a goatee beard. I pointed this out to Alec who said “Yes, unfortunately we have not been so close lately; I think that she is looking around.”

I said “What about you?” and he smiled at me and said “I don’t have to look around, Beverley, I do think that I may have already found who I want to be with, it just is a matter of whether she likes me enough” and then he gave me that smile that works on everyone and I suddenly realised who he was talking about.

Of course, the whole time we had been there I had been being peppered with questions about my transformation which I tried to answer as clearly as I could, even though several obviously thought it was a hoax. It was, though, a very interesting time as it helped Tristan place himself in our world with far more knowledge of where he had come from.

While we were there the chap from the Trust took a swab so that they could see if he really was who he said he was, there being many descendants of the early kings who had DNA already on databases. The odd thing with Tristan was that there were no intervening generations to distort the result.

Stella declared that she would be going into Braintree with her new-found friends and that Hamish, he of the beard, would get her home. So I got my father to drive my car home with my mother, Sarah and Tristan, while I said I would go with Alec into Colchester to see a movie we both wanted to see.

My mother gave me a very old-fashioned look before they left. We gave them a bit of time while we strolled around the Manor gardens and then we followed down to the main road and back to Coggeshall, going past my house and turning south instead of keeping on the main road to Colchester to go a place that we had gone to as a foursome with the girls.

On the way we chatted a bit about what we had got ourselves into, although we had helped out at Paycockes this was a whole level or two above that. It took me the whole trip to come to grips with the fact that my best mate was now thinking about me in an amorous way. We had done a lot of crazy things together, over the years, but the more I thought about it the more I thought that this may be the craziest. We were lucky that the Halfway could fit us in on a table for two and Alec and I had what could be described as a romantic dinner.

On the way home he pulled into a small lane where we had cuddled our girlfriends and I knew that this was the make or break moment. I was in two minds still when he leaned over to kiss me but the moment our lips met I threw all caution to the winds and that kiss lasted several minutes.

When he drew back he looked at the back seat and raised an eyebrow and I nodded. We both got out and into the back seat to be instantly entwined and kissing again. It was like a dam had burst for me and all I wanted was to have Alec hold me and, perhaps, do some other things that was crossing my mind that no-one had done to me before.

By the time we left that lane we had achieved many of the things that I had thought about. He had fondled, kissed and sucked my breasts and used his finger between my legs, bringing me to a raging orgasm. I had kissed him in as many places as I could and had sucked him dry, swallowing something very new for the first time.

We had sat for some time after that, cuddled together and occasionally kissing, before I looked at my watch and said we had to go. He dropped me off at my house, saying “Goodnight, beautiful, I’ll see you tomorrow for a driving lesson.” So I kissed him again and waved as he left.

When I got in the house my mother said “Goodness, girl, you look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge. You obviously enjoyed your evening. That Alec is a very nice boy and I would not mind him for a son-in-law; but not until you have finished university!”

The next day my mother gave me a pack of condoms and told me to keep them in my bag, just in case. I took extra care dressing for our driving lesson; it would be going down to Colchester and driving in all of the main streets that the examiners used. We then drove to Witham where we had lunch and walked most of the River Walk, arm in arm and talking about us. That is, us as a unit, a married couple, a family of two and- maybe- more.

Marianne Gregory © 2022

NB Although all of the great houses and historical figures are real, current period characters are purely from my imagination and have no link with anyone living or dead.

Part 7 The Next Shoe Drops

The next local paper came out on Friday and it had an article in it about “What about that Frog?” which took the reader though the other half of the witches spell and had pictures of Tristan giving his presentation dressed in his Tudor garb. It was all right, fair and factual but lifted the lid on the whole shipment of worms.

That was the day I found out I had an agent, no, make that all five of us had an agent that NT and my father had organised just in case things got hairy. NT had sent him video of our presentation and my father had sent him the clip with the frog.

The agent had organised a security firm to look after us so that day I made the acquaintance of a rather large man in a group of other large men who were going to be with us all during our waking hours until the hoo-hah died down. It was a good job Alec and I had got together before all this happened.

Saturday the national papers ran with the two stories linked together under the headline “Five hundred year old curse creates two new teenagers!” It was factual, if you believe in the facts, but left the door open for those who love conspiracy theories to think that we had cobbled it up for the celebrity status. I had to say, a story where a boy kisses a frog, gets turned into a beautiful girl while the frog becomes a handsome guy who was living in 1500 could be misconstrued.

The crowd on the Saturday was huge with a lot only wanting to look at us rather than the House. Sunday was similar but our heavies made sure we were not hassled. The following week my bodyguard came with me to my test; then waited while I was out on the test then came back with me as I drove my car without the ‘L’ plates.

The downside of all this attention was that we needed a round-the-clock guard at the House while Tristan was there. In the end the best thing was for us to disappear. My father organised a couple of local drama students to play us on the weekend and we coached them through the presentation so that the public who did come to see the House were not short-changed.

The five of us, with two bodyguards but minus our phones so we couldn’t be tracked, were taken to Little Easton where we stayed in the big house. It wasn’t all play, no; we did have to earn our keep getting the place ready for the big opening as well as having more chance to hone the presentation. The big opening was only a couple of weeks away so we had to have it ready to go, especially as we had been told that the King was keen to be at the event.

This upped the level of security in those two weeks before the event. We were still in demand by the press and the TV people but we only went out a pair at a time with our minders. Our agent made sure that we would be paid if it was possible and it was either Tristan and Sarah heading out or me and Alec.

Our agent had sold the video clip of our change to a big media outlet and it had run almost non-stop on TV ever since and the price he got would set up the five of us with a great start to our lives. Stella was able to get around without any problems because she had been the one the filming so was able to go out with Hamish, her bearded pal.

The week before the event Tristan was advised that his DNA was a definite match, within the guidelines, with the Plantagenet dynasty with no less than five different family lines in the present day that they knew of.

We had a full dress rehearsal, using the marquee set up and all the cast fitted with microphones. There was a small audience of security and NT people, our parents and friends and a small group from London. There was a professional film crew getting the camera lines right as the opening would be recorded to go out on TV at a later date.

Living at the Manor was a two-edged sword. One side was that the place had a good perimeter that could be set up with an alarm system paid for, in part, by the government which would be left there for NT afterwards. The other side was that we were in a virtual prison unless we were going out for an interview or photo shoot.

There was another sword that hung over us. The good side was that it made two couples very close. Sarah and Tristan being now genuine couple; like Alec and me. It only took a week for Alec and me to run out of condoms but one of our heavies brought us in some more along with a supply of soap and shampoo. Sarah, being on the pill, was able to have unprotected sex which was a good thing as Tristan would never have known about condoms in his day.

The bad side was that we were going stir-crazy not being able to go out without being noticed and hassled. Our heavies told us that we would be good in another couple of weeks as people moved on. When we had a chance we would walk the grounds with Tristan pointing out trees that he recognised and places he used to play with the younger members of the Bourchier family when he wasn’t doing his work.

One time he found a stick figure he had made from old animal bones and buried. When he dug where he thought it may have been and it came to light he just sat on the grounds and howled like a baby for the longest time with Sarah and I comforting him as much as we could.

Alec quietly covered it again. After that he was determined that, whatever he had to do to be successful in his new life, he would do it the best of his abilities. Those abilities were becoming more impressive as time went on. His royal bloodline was starting to make itself known, now that it had the chance to grow.

The weekend of the grand opening arrived, at last. The Manor was fit for a king, seeing that one would be attending, and the gardens were pristine. On the Saturday morning we had a full dress rehearsal again that was timed to the second. We then were given a protocol training session by a gentleman from the palace who we found out later had not read all the memos. When we did get to meet the royal party there was no such stupidity and stuffiness.

We were all outfitted in our after-opening clothes to make sure it all fitted. The two guys had smart dinner suits while we girls had long dresses with appropriate jewellery which was only on loan. None of us had been so decked out before, especially me, the world we normally lived in being much more casual. Supposedly we should be dressed up when we met his nibs.

Saturday evening we all had a dress dinner as a trial run for Sunday evening. It was very a lovely meal but not something that would keep a teenager up and running – so much plate – so little food. I found it difficult to sleep on Saturday night but Alec did manage to tire me sufficiently to get a few hours.

What was worrying was that he rolled over and fell asleep as soon as he had pulled out which left me angry. The ten days or so being together in one bed was starting to wear thin and we had started to niggle at those little things that we had always disagreed with when I was Brian.

Sunday morning, after breakfast, we were taken to the marquee and rigged out with our outfits for the day. The mics were all fitted and we tested them by walking out beyond where we would normally go during the event. We were expected to conform to whatever was asked of us during the morning and the light lunch and were given badges that told what era our specialty was.

It was odd seeing Sarah made up to look like a servant while I was given some aging as required for playing Tristans’ mother. I did keep notes of my parts in a pocket of my long skirt but was sure I had it all on tap as long as I didn’t get the nerves. Tristan was kitted out as a Tudor lad and looked pretty stunning. The one thing that did not hold true was that we all had sturdy shoes, not something that he had been used to as a boy.

There was a steady stream of visitors arriving, from the local landed gentry to the good folk of NT. Our parents arrived and we walked with them in the grounds for a while. My mother picked up the fact that I was now a genuine woman fairly quickly and told me to be extra careful.

Sarahs’ folks already knew she was a complete woman because she had been having sex with me in the three months before the change. About eleven I had a call that the main visitors had arrived and to get my lot over to the reception area so we left our folks and went to do what we had been contracted to do.

Strangely, I did not feel at all worried about the coming hours. Everyone was keen to meet a prince or two and especially a certain princess. It all went very smoothly; we were introduced and the King immediately said “I want to see the grounds, you know, the old part.”

He was down to earth, having gone so long as a land-owner and producer himself, and with Tristan on one side and me on the other, we took him though the timeline of Estaines Parvo. Once we had got away from the big throng he was very chatty and had obviously seen the frog video and had been brought up to speed on who had walked these woods before.

He asked some telling questions which I could answer and then he asked me if it was my father that had written the books on Tudor and Elizabethan life. I said it was and that I hoped to follow his footsteps in the history field.

His main questions to Tristan were about his time at the big manor and Tristan gave him as much detail as he could. There was an odd moment when the King asked a question in old French and Tristan immediately gave his answer in the same language. Of course, French was the language of the court for a very long time after the conquest and the family who lived here had been in the country since around that time.

We got to the place where Tristan had had his melt-down and he stopped and said “Sire, Your Highness, this spot holds something very dear to me. When I was about five, I made a little stick figure from animal bones with a rat skull for a head. It is buried just here. Do you want to see it?”

The King put his hand on Tristans’ arm and said “Young gentleman, I would like to, very much. They have shown me the results of your DNA test and you, for your time, have as much regal blood in your veins as I do in my time. Please show me your icon and then we can cover it up again.”

Alec bent down and uncovered the skeleton as much as he could and together we stood and looked at it, the official photographer taking pictures. It was one of those pictures that appeared on the front page of the Monday paper.

The bones were recovered and we then showed him the engraving on the tree. The King laughed and said “Not something a preservationist like me would do, but to know that I am standing where King Edward once stood and look at his artwork has made my day. Come, young people, let us go and raid the lunch table. I want you to all meet my family that are here, you have much to give this country and I want you to know that there will be something we, that is the ‘royal we’ can give to you.”

He chatted with Sarah, Alec and Stella on the walk back and the NT guy walked with me and told me that I had a job with NT should I want to be part of it; and so did Tristan, seeing the effect we had had on the biggest benefactor. Back with the crowd we did get to pick up a plate and eat a few things but there was a constant round of introductions, firstly with the rest of the family and then with some of the other VIPs.

I was sitting with Tristan having a very welcome sandwich and cup of tea when we were approached by the then fourteen year old prince who asked “I looked at that video many times and there is no way you could have faked it. Are you really a prince and princess?”

Marianne Gregory © 2022

NB Although all of the great houses and historical figures are real, current period characters are purely from my imagination and have no link with anyone living or dead.

Part 8 The Future Lies in Wait

Tristan said “Young Sire, I was merely a yard-boy in a merchants house when the witch put the spell on me. Only since I have been reborn have I found that I am related to grand people.” He then went on to tell the young prince the full story of how he had been turned into a frog, something that we had kept from the media.

The princes’ eyes got very wide when Tristan told him the wording of the spell. “That would make whoever kissed you a princess!”

He was a very bright lad and I said that this was why he saw me today as I am; having been not that much different than him when my transformation took place.

He said “Madame Beverley, even the make-up cannot hide your beauty. I look forward to your presentation today and, perhaps, meeting you again one day without the crowds around us.”

He then left us and Tristan said “I think he is keen on you, my saviour, I wonder if one day, when we are all a little older, he will try to turn you into a genuine princess.”

I gave a little laugh but I had seen that look in his eyes when we were speaking and knew I had a fan in the royal household. I turned to Tristan and said “The chap from NT said that you had a job with them if you like, do you think you may do it?”

He nodded and answered “I think that I will. I do need to learn how to read and write properly and working weekends with them would give me time. Your father told me that he is organising an apartment for the four of you near your schooling and that I could live in your old room, if you do not mind. He would then organise proper schooling for me.”

I laughed and wondered when my folks would get around to telling me that I was going to be fully independent. We strolled towards the others and rounded up our little group, having to peel Alec away from a very buxom strawberry-blonde he was having an animated conversation with.

Stella gave her Hamish a peck on the cheek and Sarah left her parents. Together we went to our ‘jumping off point’ to wait for our signal. The guests were slowly taken out to the lawn where seats were arranged with the most important people at the front.

I said to Tristan “Take a note of the people in the first three rows, if you ever meet them again, be very mindful that they have a lot of power.”

Things settled down and the organiser warned us that we were about to go live and then I was given the signal to start the proceedings. I put on my most serious face as I walked out in front of this august body and started my set-piece but put as much life into it as I could.

I could see nods and smiles as I related the very early days when the land was a hunting ground of the royals and then I got to the de Bourchiers and the main generations we were interest in. There was a gasp when I related the time when the young Earl violated my body in the hunting lodge that had been on the site in front of where they sat.

Then we brought Sarah is as another worker who I told had helped me in my labour. We then brought in Tristan and had a chat about all of the things that went on in the house during the time he was living here. There was looks of amazement at some of the tasks that needed to be done just to keep a couple of noble folk happy and nary a one disbelieved the fact that Tristan lived at that time.

We got to the death of the Second Earl of Essex and the subsequent takeover of the land by his daughter, Anne. Stella and Alec then came out and related their time on the property and their tempestuous relationship, ending with Parr having the land taken away from him.

I then came forward again and said “After William Parr lost the land it was then given, by Queen Elizabeth the First, to Henry Maynard in 1590. Lo and behold, here he comes now.”

We backed off as the bearded Hamish came out in Elizabethan garb and started the presentation of the next chapter of the history, with his house rising from the ruins of the old manor before the present house started taking shape in 1840 on the ruins of the old hunting lodge.

He took us up to that point and then passed to another actor who took us all through to the twentieth century when the house and grounds were sold to Basil Dean, a famous film and theatre director and producer. Then there was a long line of the drama school actors who provided vignettes of the famous people who had been here, mainly in the Barn Theatre that had been converted in 1913 by the Lady ‘Daisy’ Warwick, supposedly the mistress of the then Prince of Wales.

One of the actors was the girl that Alec had been talking to and she played the part of Hermione Baddeley, a brassy actress of the thirties to fifties. Others played H.G Wells, George Bernard Shaw, Charlie Chaplin, Gracie Fields and George Formby, all had been here among many others.

As they say, all good things come to pass and the last presenter did not take long to take us to the present day, calling on the CEO of NT to start the official proceedings. He joined the rest of us and there was applause as we all bowed or curtsied.

The opening proper then took place with the King giving a nice compliment to us all by saying that he had learned a lot about not only the house and land today, but also about the characters who had walked this ground before us. He hoped that those who come after will continue to make their mark on society and the declared “Little Eastern Manor, a jewel in the fabric of Essex, open.”

I had to wonder why we had spent the best part of an hour getting to the main part which took less than five minutes, but I suppose you cannot take up too much of a Kings’ time. I had thought that the time had come for us all to be put to one side while the royal party was shown around but no, we were all roped in to be part of the processional retinue with the VIPs mingling with the rest of us.

I found my young prince by my side and he told me that for a princess, I made a great actress. And then he said “Miss Beverley, can you sit with us at dinner, Tristan will come too. My father wants to talk to you.”

After the inspection tour we were allowed to get back to the marquee where we removed our costumes and were kitted out with our dinner outfits and then made up to suit. The lass that did my make-up took extra care, telling me that she had seen a few of the people that had spoken to me today and that I had to look my best. We had a slight break where we could relax, relieve ourselves and chat before we were ushered to the Barn where the meal was to be served.

As I had been told, Tristan and I were taken in hand and led to the top table where we were shown our seats. Everyone stayed standing as the royal party came in and no-one sat until the king sat.

I found myself between the young prince and his father with Tristan between the princess and her step-mother-in-law. Looking out at the others I noticed that Alec was next to the buxom one while Sarah was in deep conversation with an older guy who, I remembered, was the director of the filming today.

As the meal progressed I was in the middle of gentle banter between a father and son and it took a strange turn when the father asked me what my plans were and if I was going to study history.

When I said that I was enrolled in a history course at university he nodded, saying “That would be about four years?”

I said it was and he said “Perfect. Miss Fulton, you have impressed three generations of my family today with your knowledge and love of the history you portrayed. It is too early yet but we plan to properly catalogue my grand-mothers collections in all of the houses and castles. It will be a lifetime job and we have been looking for someone young enough not to be hide-bound by tradition yet good enough to know what they are looking at. There are a few things I have seen that do not throw a good light on our, and other families. If you are half the researcher your father is you will be perfect for the job, with a crew to help you. We will give you full access as you need it and I expect that you may find yourself almost part of the family. What do you say?”

I thought for a moment or two and then said “Your Highness, nothing would give me greater pleasure, as long as you write the preface to the first book.”

He laughed and said “Not yet on the payroll but already making demands, you are wonderful.”

The son then said “Miss Beverley, when you start I will be eighteen and ready for university myself. Can I be one of the crew?” I smiled at him and said “Certainly, your Highness, it would be wonderful working with you.” The rest of the meal passed in a haze as I contemplated the opportunity that I had been offered.

The collections went back into very early days and even I knew that there were papers in there that had never been published as too inflammatory. This new incarnation of the dynasty was going to shake things up, that’s for sure.

After that day my life took a whole new direction. We got back to Coggeshall and things settled down. Tristan and I saw out the season at Paycockes, Alec spent time with buxom Jennifer from Jasper’s Green. Sarah was very much the third point of our Paycockes trio.

Stella gave up her thoughts of university and married Hamish to set up a home in Stansted Mountfitchet where he followed his father into working with an airline. Sarah and I were bridesmaids. When I did start at the University of Essex I was living at an apartment with Sarah and Tristan had moved into my old room.

Over the four years we made that apartment our home as Alec had transferred to Chelmsford for his tertiary studies. He and Jennifer started their family a bit early but her family were very supportive and we enjoyed the odd times we saw them.

Tristan became learned in all the ways he needed to for his future life. There were strings pulled which gave him a genuine identity and he was also given an honorary school certificate which allowed him to make a living. And what a living!

The King had taken a shine to him and appointed him to the royal household as an advisor, making sure, or so he said, that he was kept in tune with the earlier kings; there was, eventually, an Earldom. Tristan and Sarah married in Windsor and I was Maid of Honour.

Sarah had kept in touch with the director she had been speaking to at the opening and was now seen quite often on TV as a presenter of, you guessed it, historic documentaries, sometimes with Tristan helping her delve into Tudor life. They made a wonderful couple, and also wonderful parents much later.

And what of me, you may ask. Well, I was urged by my father to follow up on the offer that had been made so, when I graduated, I contacted the Palace and they invited me and my parents to lunch. Things had progressed behind the scenes and I was told that Oxford University had come forward to take me through to a doctorate which would be based on my first book as my thesis if I did the cataloguing as offered.

I, of course, took the job, went through the process of getting my ‘access all areas’ pass and then found myself deep in the cellars of the grand houses, talking to those who had worked in the archives before. My father was very helpful as I found my feet but when I was joined by the young prince my father made excuses to stay at home.

The young prince was extremely bright and would be doing his university course in history as a remote student while being my assistant. Once he was on board a lot of doors that had been kept closed by old-world employees were suddenly opened and the scope of what we had started was revealed.

He and I spent hours together and, although I was some four or five years older than him, it didn’t seem to matter. Soon we were being seen together at big events, openings and galas, often with his parents.

Not everyone could say that they did their quiet necking in the depths of a Royal Palace but we did that and much more. We did, however, get a lot of work done and the crew that gathered around us was very keen and mostly very young as well. The first book, and my doctorate, would take another couple of years but I expect that I will attend that investiture with my new family by my side.

Tomorrow I will be walking down the aisle at Westminster, thanks to the King, now getting ready to step down so that my future father-in-law can take the throne.

When I walk back out into the sunshine with my handsome husband by my side, the spell would have finally come to pass. ‘The kisser of the frog shalt be a Princess’.

Marianne Gregory © 2022