Chapter 12
CHAPTER 12
W illow Manor, York, 1536
Edward Makepeace’s schoolroom at Willow Manor faced south and the afternoon sun cast a luminous sheen over Thomas and May’s bowed heads. Thomas was a studious child who applied himself to each lesson, while his younger sister, May, received frequent reminders from their tutor, to pay attention. She spent much of her time daydreaming about her beloved mare. There was nothing in the world more thrilling to May, than Nutmeg related activity. At six years old, she was already a skilled horse rider and jumped higher fences than her brother. Thomas, aged nine was more the scholar, and Edward Makepeace declared him advanced in mathematics for his years.
There was a sharp rap at the door. Edward thanked the kitchen maid for delivering the letter and unfolded a thick yellow sheet of paper under the curious gaze of two sets of brown eyes. It wasn’t often mail was delivered directly to the schoolroom, especially during lesson time.
‘Something must be up,’ whispered Thomas, poking May in the ribs.
‘Ouch,’ she cried, giving Thomas a hard shove in his side.
‘Now, now, children, settle down please,’ said Edward in a kind, firm tone, peering at them over the paper. He pushed his spectacles up his large nose and resumed reading.
‘Is it from Mother and Father, Sir?’ asked May. ‘Are they coming home soon? I miss them so much.’
‘No, I’m afraid they’re not coming home just yet.’
May’s tiny frame slumped, and tears welled in her dark eyes. Thomas, sensitive to his sister’s volatile nature, reached out to pat her arm. ‘Don’t cry, May. If they’re not able to come home, it’s because they are on important business for the Crown. Mother has explained this to us, remember?’
‘May’s bottom lip trembled as she stared up at him, but she visibly held herself together. The children had grown used to not having their parents at home, but occasionally May became melancholy.
‘I have good news. Can I trust you both to keep a secret?’ asked Edward.
May perked up immediately at the promise of intrigue. ‘Yes, of course,’ the children chimed in unison.
‘What do our parents say, Sir?’ asked Thomas. ‘Are they well?’
‘They wish you to come to them, but it must remain an absolute secret. No one but us must know. Your father says our lives depend upon it, so children, I’m deadly serious when I say we must keep this between us. Do you understand?’
They nodded, the solemnity of his words hitting them both simultaneously.
This must be serious, indeed, thought Edward.
Edward’s hand shook slightly as he contemplated the bold black instructions on the letter. ‘You know how your father goes on secret missions for the king to locate important manuscripts? He didn’t pause for a response but continued, ‘Well, we shall be embarking on a mission of equal importance, so I’m going to need you both to have your wits about you and to be on your best behaviour.’
They nodded again. May couldn’t sit still.
‘Are we to go to them today, Sir?’ she enquired. ‘May I ride Nutmeg? She will help us on our secret mission.’
‘I want you both to go and get changed into the warmest, old clothing you can find. May, borrow some of Thomas’s clothes. You are finally going to get your wish to dress like a boy. For this mission, you shall be as if you are Thomas’s little brother. And blacken your faces too. You need to look grubby; like stable boys or kitchen hands.’
May gulped and sped out of the room as fast as her wiry little legs could move.
Thomas tidied up his equipment, looked intently at his tutor, and said, ‘Sir, are my parents in very grave danger?’
Edward tousled the boy’s hair; he was fond of Thomas. ‘I won’t lie to you, dear boy. We are in dangerous times, and it sounds as though your parents have had to go into hiding. Best to keep it between us men for now. No need to alarm May any further. Do I have your word?’
‘Yes, Sir, you can count on me.’ Thomas hurried from the classroom and went in pursuit of his sister and some suitable clothes to prepare for their secret mission.
Thomas was steady and mature for his age. Children of noble birth were in many ways privileged, but George and Cara had schooled Thomas in the realities of courtly life. He was aware of the perils of their position. Edward, who was named after Edward of York, King Edward IV, had taught the children the history of the Wars of the Roses. They knew courtiers could fall from favour in a blink of the king’s eye. Since their parents were summoned to court, the children had led a quiet life at Willow Manor, under the guardianship of their Cavendish grandparents and tutor.
Edward looked at the letter once more.
‘Please don’t tell my parents. For all concerned they shouldn’t know. I trust you to follow my instructions regarding the children.’
George had signed the letter with a rich flourish and the ink was slightly smudged.
Our peaceful life is about to change.
He hurried out of the schoolroom and up the backstairs to his quarters, to prepare for the journey ahead. His pulse quickened at the thought of the dangers involved in smuggling the children to their parents, who were now on the run from the king’s army.
Twenty minutes later, Edward led the children quietly down the servant’s stairs. They looked like a couple of ragamuffins with their frayed clothes and blackened faces. ‘You did a great job. Now we just need to get you to your parents, and all will be well.’
‘What will you do, Sir?’ asked Thomas.
‘I’ll do the bidding of your parents whatever that may be. I’m their loyal servant. I’ll do my best to provide whatever they need of me.’
‘I hope you can stay with us,’ said Thomas.
‘Yes, me too,’ whispered May. ‘Please don’t leave us, Sir.’
Edward squeezed one shoulder of each of his wards, to comfort them. ‘I hope I can stay with you, but whatever happens, you’ll be with your parents, so there’s no need to fret.’
They arrived at the stables and Edward jumped into the shabby carriage used by the household’s staff for errands. He signalled to the children to follow, giving them a hand up. He’d sent word earlier to Swifty’s brother, Bertie, as per George’s request, asking him to prepare the carriage, explaining the need for urgency and secrecy.
He nodded to Bertie, to indicate they were ready to depart and the horses’ hooves clicked immediately into action. The less they lingered, the safer for all concerned. Edward planned to exit the grounds of the manor quickly as if he was going about his regular routine. There was nothing out of the ordinary in having two servant boys in the carriage to assist him.
Purchasing school supplies was heavy, tiresome work.
He planned their potential alibi, in case soldiers stopped them as they crossed the city.
London, present day
Cara sat nursing the remains of a latte in a coffee shop on the Royal Holloway site in Bloomsbury.
What’s going on?
She’d time travelled back to Tudorville with the amazing professor, but here she was already back in present-day London as if it had never happened. There was one significant difference to previous trips; this time, she could recall more of the details. Eddie had assured her that her recollection of the previous timeline would be readily accessible the more she travelled. He had discovered his ability to time travel ten years ago and was intimate with the process. He had been travelling back and forth between present day and Tudorville ever since. He explained that the information from her past life must have been stored in her memory since the moment her gift was activated when she met George in the bookshop.
Thanks to her fortuitous introduction to Eddie, she was beginning to understand how time travel worked. She’d just witnessed several days of her previous life in 1536, but in this timeline, it was as if nothing had changed. She found it disconcerting. It reminded her of when she’d travelled abroad for a gap year. Upon her return to York, everything seemed oddly different but also much the same, as though she’d never been away.
It’s the most incredible thing. How will I ever tell George about our past life?
Cara ran through what she’d recently witnessed in Tudorville, trying to piece together how events had unfolded. She and George had made it into the heart of York, undetected, fooling the soldiers with George’s foppery and her Parisian finery. George’s childhood friend, Sir John Locke, suggested they hide in his basement. He was sympathetic to their plight and shuffled them into the safe haven upon arrival. Understanding the need for discretion after seeing the posters in the city, he didn’t ask questions. The Yorkists stuck together so although soldiers were searching for them, being in the heart of York was the safest place they could hide.
Cara played back the scenes as if watching a technicolour movie.
Sir John Locke’s Basement, York, 1536
‘Do you think Edward will be able to get the children to us?’ Cara asked George. She was tormented by the possibility of the children being captured since they despatched their letter to Willow Manor.
‘I have a good feeling about it. Edward is smart and trustworthy. We’ve counted on him for years. He’ll do his best, and if anyone can get them to us, it’s him.’
After a torturous couple of hours, they heard horses’ hooves and the sound of wheels hurtling into the circular driveway. Cara rushed in the direction of the tiny window, leapt onto a stool and craned her neck to try to peer out.
‘It’s no good. By our lady, I can’t see a thing,’ she cried and stepped down, throwing her hands up in despair. ‘George, pray come over here, and see if it’s the children. I can’t wait another second, or I will explode.’
George balanced on the stool and peered out with ease through the grille of the high basement window. ‘Good news, my love. Here they are! Edward has arrived, and if my eyes don’t play dastard tricks on me, he brings with him two children whom I believe to be our very own. They look more like grimy chimney sweeps, but I suspect Thomas and May will be revealed beneath those filthy faces.’
‘Thank the good lord,’ said Cara. She rushed into George’s arms when he jumped down, and he held her tight.
A few moments later they heard high pitched, chattering voices on the stairs, followed by admonishments from Sir John to keep the noise down. The children burst into the basement, and May ran to Cara, wrapping her thin arms around her mother’s waist. Thomas was more restrained when he greeted his father, but he couldn’t hold the tears back for long, and he clung to George. Then they all hugged, and Cara was overcome with emotion. The basement conditions were dark and damp, but their love was palpable. They settled onto a blanket on the hard floor and feasted on a supper of bread, cheese and ale. Despite the rudimentary nature of the food, none of them had enjoyed a meal so much in ages. They were together again, and that was all that mattered. A chill ran through Cara as she wondered how long it would be before she was swept back to her complicated life in the present day.
‘Where’s Eddie?’ asked Cara, looking at Thomas and then at May. ‘How awful of me. In the excitement of seeing you both, I forgot all about him. How clever he is to have brought you here so quickly. We must thank him.’
‘Eddie,’ said George. ‘Who’s Eddie?’
‘Oh, silly me, I mean Edward, of course.’
The children giggled and nudged each other at the ridiculous notion of their tutor being called Eddie.
‘How quaint,’ George chuckled. ‘What brought that on? But yes, indeed, you’re right, we must thank him and decide what he should do next. I’ll ask him to join us shortly. I imagine he’s dining in the servant’s hall along with Swifty. It will be good to see Edward and to hear the latest news from Willow Manor. It seems like forever since I saw my parents.’
London, present day
Cara’s phone rang and jolted her out of her daydream and back to the dregs of her cold latte. She couldn’t avoid speaking to George any longer. ‘Hi, how’s it going?’
George filled her in on the details of his business in London and then asked how she’d got on with her meeting. ‘Did you make the progress you wanted?’
When she’d texted him, Cara had been deliberately vague about the purpose of her trip. She didn’t want to lie but also didn’t want to tell him the real reason for her meeting with quantum time traveller, Eddie Makepeace.
‘Yes, he’s a brilliant fellow. I think he’ll be a good contact, so it was worth the effort.’ She could sense his curiosity, and purposely changed the conversation.
‘It sounds as though you’re very busy. I think I’ll head back to York shortly.’
‘Oh, okay. I thought I might see you,’ he said, after a short pause, sounding disappointed.
‘It’s been a long day. I left York so early to make the appointment with the professor.’
Cara yearned to see him, but it was all so awkward, and she didn’t want to get in the way of his work commitments.
‘How about you join me for the visit to Hampton Court? Would you come for the interview? I could do with a quick consult with the pre-eminent expert in Tudor affairs. I’m a bit nervous, Dr Bailey.’
‘Don’t be silly. You know everything there is to know about that manuscript,’ she laughed.
She knew from previous discussions that he was a pro at dealing with the media, but she felt a warm glow at his persistence. His charm was impossible for her to resist. She would love to be with him at Hampton Court.
I’d love to be anywhere with him.
He continued, ‘I’m at the company apartment in Knightsbridge. Why don’t you come over and stay here tonight? We can grab something to eat, and if you’re free, we’ll drive to Hampton Court together in the morning.’
Cara was silent for a few seconds before saying, ‘How could I resist the temptation of Hampton Court? It’s such a wonderful place. I did the research for my doctorate there.’
He let out a low whistle, ‘I’m relieved to hear it, although I confess my ego is a little wounded that it’s only Hampton Court you can’t resist.’
Cara laughed again, ‘Don’t push it, Cavendish.’
‘Fair enough, after our last call I thought you might not pick up the phone today, never mind accept an invitation, so this is promising.’
‘By the way,’ he smoothly changed the subject, ‘I meant to tell you, I was reading some archive papers and discovered something quite bizarre.’
‘Oh, really, what?’ Cara’s heart thumped as she wondered whether he could possibly have found out about their past life together.
‘Well, it’s strange, but it seems as though George Oliver Cavendish, you know, the one who was in charge of the Tudor Kings’ Manuscript for the king. . .’
‘Yes, yes,’ said Cara, unable to stop herself cutting in, what did you find out?’
‘His wife was called Cara: Countess Cara Cavendish! I nearly choked on my tea when I read it. I couldn’t believe it. Isn’t it a weird coincidence? It’s not as though Cara is or was a particularly common name. It is delightfully serendipitous.’
‘Gosh, that is incredible!’ She laughed, ping-ponging between being nervous and ecstatic that he was beginning to see their connection went deeper than anything he had previously imagined.
‘My ancestor’s work was acknowledged by King Henry VIII, and that’s why he was made Earl of Gloucester. I wanted to call you immediately to tell you about Countess Cavendish, but you were so angry with me, I didn’t.’
This was dangerous territory, so Cara steered the conversation away from Tudorville. She wanted some time to think through how to handle this revelation.
‘I’m never angry with you for long. Don’t you know that by now?’
‘Great, so now we’ve established you’re never going to be pissed off with me again, and you’re always going to accept my invitations, when will you get here?’
‘Do you know which tube I need to take from Bloomsbury to Knightsbridge?’
‘Let me think. . .um, no. You must have me confused with a man who knows every route in London!’
‘Ah, yes, true. Okay, well I’ll look it up and get to you as soon as I can.’
‘Walk to Russell Square, I think that’s the nearest, and I’ll be there to meet you.’
‘Ah, wonderful.’
‘Cara?’
‘Yes?’
‘I’ve missed you. Hurry up.’