Twin Flames (Twin Flames #1)

Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

O utskirts of York, 1536

Madame Alicia was sympathetic to George and Cara’s predicament and keen to offer them her hospitality.

‘So, you mean the soldiers are searching for you all over the city?’

‘Yes, we believe so,’ said George. ‘Posters declare there is one thousand pound on our heads, dead or alive. Who knows who else has the reward in their sights, and is in hot pursuit? I would like to assure you, Madame; we are innocent of the charges brought against us by the council. We, like so many in these dangerous days, are victims of political intrigue and have fallen from favour following the beheading of Anne Boleyn.

We find ourselves unexpectedly on the wrong side of the king. The quicker we get out of your home, the better it will be for all of us. We have no wish to endanger you and your household. I have high hopes we will be restored to our former position in the good graces of the king, as soon as he examines the evidence. I fear he was misinformed, and we have been misrepresented by the enemies of the queen, God rest her soul.’

Madame Alicia fashioned herself in an exotic style but was an indigenous product of the Yorkshire dales. She was born during the reign of Henry Tudor and raised on campfire tales of the Wars of the Roses, and came from a family of enthusiastic House of York supporters.

‘Whatever you need; simply ask. My humble home and resources are at your disposal, my lord. We never know what evil tidings the king’s soldiers will wreak upon us next. I have no loyalty to them. Some are decent enough individuals who frequent my ladies, but as an army, they are cold-hearted rogues. And I’m tired of the endless taxes and the constant disagreements between the northern lords and the king.’

They stood clustered together in the sitting room of her private wing, and she spoke in a loud whisper. Everyone knew, speaking ill of the king and his government was to endanger one’s life. A few misplaced words were sufficient to be charged with treason, so by collaborating with Cara and George, the risk was considerable. Even here in her establishment, miles from London, one couldn’t be sure who was a Tudor informer. ‘The walls have ears,’ was a sensible tenet to live by in Tudor England if you wished to increase your odds of survival.

‘Could you possibly lend us a carriage? I’ll endeavour to have it returned to you as soon as we’ve reached our destination. It’s safer for us all if I don’t tell you where we’re going, but if you trust my word, I swear I’ll see you are reimbursed with interest. If we can’t get the carriage back to you in the condition we take it; I’ll have one of my men purchase a replacement and see that you are well rewarded for your generosity.’

‘Think nothing of it. I’m honoured to help, and I accept your kind offer, my lord. I have a carriage in the stable below which you can take. If anyone notices it’s missing or reports a sighting of it on the way into the city, I’ll say it must have been stolen.’

‘Brilliant idea. Thank you. We’re most grateful,’ said George.

‘Madame Alicia,’ said Cara, ‘I think we’d be wise to disguise ourselves, or I fear we’ll be recognised in an instant. Our faces line the trees on the road to the city. What could you offer us in terms of clothing and wigs?’

Madame Alicia pursed her lips as she pondered, ‘Yes, I concur. I do believe I have just the costume for you, my lady. It will be a bit more challenging to disguise my lord , but I have a blonde wig which I think will be perfect for you. We can disguise you as a Parisian noblewoman, and if you are questioned, you can say you’ve come from King Francis’ court. The French are unpopular in these parts, but you’ll be safer than travelling without a disguise.’ She bustled off to peruse the delights of her wardrobe, excited at the prospect of a good dress up.

George, Cara and Swifty sped along the last portion of the Great North Road and prepared to enter the city in the newly acquired carriage.

‘Let’s hope being conspicuous serves our cause in that we’re so obvious; they will think we must surely be innocent! It’s such an elegant carriage, there’s no chance of us passing undetected,’ said George.

‘Swifty?’

‘Yes, my lord?’

‘If anyone speaks to you, act dumb. We’ll say you’re a mute from birth if necessary.’

‘If you say so, my lord, but why do you wish me to be silent?’

‘Because, after hearing your terrible attempt at impersonating a French lad, we’ll have more chance of saving our necks that way. If they hear you, they’ll know us immediately for the imposters we are.’

Swifty looked dejected, and his small shoulders slumped.

Cara smiled. ‘Never mind, Swifty; think of silence as a gift. . . you’ll have it easier than us. We’ll have to put on a ludicrous French accent and pretend we’ve come from the Valois court.’ Her blonde wig bounced upon her head as she talked. The colour suited her; the golden curls accentuated her high cheekbones, and the contrast with her sparkling, grey eyes was striking. Madame Alicia had painted a sizeable brown beauty spot above Cara’s lip, and she looked every bit the chic Parisian. She suspected Madame might have taken it a little further than required, but Cara hadn’t wanted to spoil her fun.

George cut a flamboyant figure in a burgundy and gold tunic, lavish lace undershirt, pointed beard and a full moustache. They’d styled his hair in the latest Parisian fashion, and the coiffed effect was ostentatious. Compared to his usual understated elegance, he looked quite the dandy. Madame Alicia had said she’d heard this fashion was all the rage in France. Cara caught his eye and winked, struggling to hide her giggles at his obvious discomfort.

‘I feel quite ridiculous,’ he complained. ‘You may well laugh. You, of course, look stunning, while I look like a first-class fool with all of this pomp. My face itches as though an entire army of ants marched across it and back again continuously throughout the night.’

His nature was typically so amiable that Cara was amused when he was grumpy, and found his outburst particularly endearing.

‘Uh-oh, we have company,’ said George, craning his neck out of the side of the carriage as they hurtled along the bumpy road towards the entrance to the city. ‘Soldiers ahead. There’s a checkpoint. Let the games begin. Pray, we may fool them with our sheer ridiculousness.’ His tone was playful—he saw no need to increase the tension.

‘Bonjour,’ George addressed the soldier who poked his head inside the carriage. ‘How may we help you?’ He said in his most exaggerated French accent.

Hampton Court Palace, 1536

Cara and George’s fortunes plummeted on the night the soldiers burst into their apartment at Hampton Court and dragged him from their bed. Cara hadn’t slept all night, terrified of George’s fate, but she had made sure to arrive, as usual, to assist the queen in dressing. She knew what George would advise her to do. He would tell her to continue in this unfortunate masquerade as if he wasn’t in disgrace.

‘Do you have any word of George?’ asked the queen, dropping the usual formalities.

‘I’m afraid not, Your Grace. I’ve heard nothing since they arrested him in the middle of the night.’ Despite Cara’s efforts at stoicism, she couldn’t hide the tremor in her voice, and tears clouded her eyes.

I mustn’t crack. I must stay strong.

The queen touched her shoulder. ‘Try to be calm, my dear, I pray the king will awaken from this madness soon, and restore us all to the peace and tranquillity of bygone days. Earlier this morning I prayed for the good health of the earl and your family as well as a full pardon so he may be restored to you forthwith. I will do my best to influence my husband, the king, in my next audience with him. My influence is greatly diminished as we both know, but perhaps I can reason with him by reminding him of the loyalty your husband has shown us. It’s little more than a year since he created him an earl, in recognition of his esteemed service to the Crown. His work on the Tudor Kings’ Manuscript was outstanding. The king was delighted with the commission, but I fear it has temporarily slipped his mind.’

‘I am grateful, Your Grace. Your words bring me hope in these dark days, although I must confess to feeling quite despondent, thinking of my husband locked up, I know not where.’

‘It’s dreadful. I will make enquiries as to where he is being held and see to it that he receives additional supplies at the first opportunity. I still have loyal servants throughout the city.’

‘Thank you, Your Grace. You are very kind.’

‘I can’t imagine what the king is thinking by accusing him of treason when he has been such a loyal advisor and trusted confidant. No doubt Cromwell has a hand in it. He is a master at planting false evidence to embroil those who rival him. Your husband has risen too high, too fast. Cromwell’s ambition will be the death of us all if we underestimate him.’

Cara didn’t attend the May Day Tournament at Greenwich Palace; she made her excuses to the queen, saying she felt unwell. She wished to remain quietly in her apartment at Hampton Court. George’s arrest had taken its toll; she could not bear to face the king. Queen Anne was sensitive to Cara’s precarious situation and thought it wise that she not draw attention to herself.

‘Through my network of spies, I’ve learned that George is in Newgate Prison,’ said the queen. ‘I don’t have any details at this point but will endeavour to ascertain more.’

Cara’s skin was pallid, and she feared she might throw up upon hearing the queen’s words. She had yearned for news but receiving it was a bitter blow. ‘I’d hoped there had been some mistake. I prayed our worst fears wouldn’t be confirmed,’ she said.

‘I know. I’m sorry, my dear. I was on my knees in the chapel at dawn, but it would seem that God has not answered my prayers. I will do my best to have someone get word to him. Newgate is shocking by all accounts. Why the king hasn’t put him under house arrest or in a solitary cell in the Tower, I can’t imagine.’

Cara bid her beloved mistress farewell, not suspecting the next time she would see her would be to witness the queen’s execution. Several days later she received a letter from one of George’s men, which read:

‘The queen has been arrested. She is being transported by barge to the Tower of London to await trial. Leave the palace immediately. Go into hiding for your safety. I am doing my best for G.’

Cara burned the note, gathered some of her belongings and prepared to leave, under cover of night. There were several people in the palace she could trust, and they would figure out a plan for a quick getaway.

‘Please open up my lady.’ There was a banging on the door before the handle turned. Her maid tumbled into the room and fell at her feet; such was her distress. ‘I’m sorry,’ Mary gasped for breath. ‘I ran as quickly as I could,’ she clutched her side.

Cara helped her maid to her feet and gripped her shoulders to steady her, ‘What is it? Make haste, please tell me now. Do you have news of the earl, my lord Cavendish?’ She felt like shaking the maid; such was her impatience.

‘No, my lady.’ She lowered her eyes and whispered, ‘They are coming for you. I heard the soldiers talking. They’re coming to arrest you next. I ran as fast as I could to tell you.’

Cara’s blood rushed from her head, and she thought she would faint. She sat on the bed for a few seconds, trying to calm and organise her thoughts.

What can I do? How must I get away to rescue the children?

She tried to form a plan but couldn’t think what to do if the soldiers were already on their way to her rooms. There was nowhere to hide. She grabbed more of her jewellery and hastily adorned herself with as much as she could. Her hands shook as she slid gold rings set with precious stones onto her fingers. She thrust a hefty purse of coins into her bodice and dashed for the door.

‘Say as little as possible, Mary. If they question you, don’t say you’ve seen me. Say you came to serve me, but I was nowhere to be found.’

‘I will, my lady.’ Mary began to sob.

‘Please calm down. You must stay calm for your own safety. Say nothing, and you will be safe.’

Three soldiers burst through the door and grabbed Cara roughly by the arm. ‘You’re under arrest for treason and witchcraft, by order of King Henry VIII.’ One of them held up a notice as he read the charges.

York, present day

Cara tried to settle back into her old life. She went to the office each day and attempted to immerse herself in her work. Where once she would light up at the idea of a new project, her work had now lost its appeal. Reasonably, she knew it was crazy to think about a man so much, even one with whom she shared such an affinity. But reason played no role in her feelings for George.

I’m like a lovesick girl who can’t think about anything or anyone else. Ugh.

She’d thought women weak who behaved in this way. She would never be like that, or so she had believed. Now she had a new compassion for the poor souls whose hearts had been enslaved to the point where they couldn’t eat, sleep or think about anything or anyone else.

She’d been infatuated with James, her first love, and had been sure he was the one . Now it was evident that what they had shared had been nothing compared to this all-consuming desire to be with George. Sometimes it was like a curse, and she wished they had never met. Her life had been dull and bland before that day in the bookshop, but at least she wasn’t heartsick.

She picked up her phone and called Sylvia, who scheduled her in for the next available appointment. She would be able to talk to someone about her travels to Tudorville, as she called it fondly, and her feelings for George. Sylvia was the only person she could trust in this madness. The time travel was wacky. She knew it was happening, even though it was surreal to think of it, but the intensity of the pain in her heart about George was unbearable. She was despondent. Conflicting thoughts cycled round her head, competing for her attention, day and night. She had given up trying to justify her state of mind. Their last conversation replayed itself in her head throughout each day, ever since George told her he was leaving. She wished she could somehow turn that conversation off.

He had phoned late one night a few days earlier, and after a bit of light banter, he said, ‘I’m not used to feeling this way. I’ve never felt the way I do about you. I don’t know what to do.’

A rush of intense love flooded her being, and the relief was palpable after a stressful day of doubt and indecision.

It’s going to be okay.

He continued, ‘I can’t tell Joanna. I don’t know how.’ His voice faltered. ‘Jane is in her final year at school and has exams soon. It doesn’t seem right to leave now.’

‘I see,’ said Cara. ‘Yes, of course.’ Disappointment crushed her short-lived elation. Bile rose in her throat, her stomach flipped and she felt sick.

‘I’m going to the London office in a couple of days. There’s so much going on as a result of the manuscript publicity. The media is going bonkers about all things Tudor, and people who wouldn’t usually consider it, are commissioning work like crazy. The BBC has asked to interview me at Hampton Court Palace.’

‘How wonderful,’ said Cara. She fell silent, reeling at the implication of him not leaving Joanna and instead leaving for London.

‘The publicity will be great for your work too,’ he said.

‘Yes, yes, I suppose it will.’ She didn’t care; it was little consolation. Knowing he was nearby had given her hope.

After a pause, she asked, ‘How long will you be away?’

‘I don’t know. It depends how it all goes.’

‘Will you be going alone?’ Her heart pounded as she awaited his reply.

‘Yes. We have a small team permanently based at the London branch, although I may ask my assistant to accompany me.’

Cara’s mood turned darker at the thought of a glamorous assistant working side by side with him in London. She’d never been the jealous type, but recently she saw a new edge to her nature which both surprised and alarmed her.

Is he going to London to put distance between us?