Chapter 29
CHAPTER 29
Y ork, present day
Cara was exhausted after the trip to Seville. She took the following morning off work and pottered about the cottage. She felt flashes of sadness but mostly cold, all-consuming anger which seared her soul.
Usually, when separated from George, she felt despondent, as if she had lost a vital body part. Missing him formed a dull ache in her chest, omnipresent, even when she tried to distract herself.
Over time she had grown accustomed to the feeling and had become better at bearing it but could still be brought to her knees in a heartbeat. A memory, a smell, or the sight of something which reminded her of him, was all it took.
But this fiery anger took her by surprise.
Why was she so angry at him? In the grand scheme of things, this time was no worse than the others. He didn’t even know what he’d done so being angry was pointless.
And then the answers flooded in. She had thought they had a second chance. She had believed he was free and they could finally be together after all of the heartache and suspense since that first meeting in the bookshop. The disappointment was crushing. For a fleeting period, she had allowed herself to hope they might have a proper life together. A life composed of more than blissful snatched moments—a life she didn’t have to hide. Even when she had met Kate and was hit by the new reality, George pursued her, making it yet more difficult for her to let him go again.
Why did he do it? Did he somehow unconsciously sense their connection? Or did he know more than he was letting on? When he had been married to Joanna, and they had grown so close, sometimes she suspected he knew there was more to their relationship.
Like when they were at Hampton Court Palace. How could he not know on some level about their past? It seemed crazy that he would complicate his life with Kate if there wasn’t more to their relationship than a fleeting fancy.
Most of all, she was angry at him for the choices he had repeatedly made; the choices which now dictated their destiny. They must both continue to pay for his weakness, and it made her bloody mad.
‘I would kill you with my bare hands if you were here now, George.’ Saying the words out loud felt good. She’d been trying to control her anger for too long. He had messed up. If she were to believe in the Twin Flame journey, their souls had made a pact before they inhabited their physical bodies.
They were supposed to reunite against any and all odds. George had failed miserably, and she must give up on him. She couldn’t do this anymore.
Cara’s moods fluctuated to the extreme. Occasionally the searing anger dissipated and gave way to an intense longing to feel his arms holding her close against him, but it soon passed, and the anger bubbled back to the surface.
Consciously or not, he had chosen all of this. He was the reason they weren’t together. She had ended her engagement immediately after they had fallen in love because it wouldn’t have been fair to stay with Daniel. But George resigned himself to leading a double life, despite the havoc it wreaked on them both. He hung onto his life with Joanna to the point where the time travel powers that be had taken it from him. And now he was with Kate.
She was tired of trying to make a life with him when he would make no space for her in his. This must be part of the Twin Flame journey. Perhaps they both had different lessons to learn, which she was yet to understand. It was all too painful—she had been squeezed dry like a lemon. Her heart had never bled like this before. She had no more left to give.
She hoped the anger would last because it wasn’t as painful as the familiar heart-wrenching agony which wracked her soul when she let herself give in to her love for him. It was no good. She would have to find a way to exist without him; at least in this timeline.
Listless and weary, she made a cup of tea in an attempt to soothe her soul, and then sat down at the kitchen table. Even the tea reminded her of George. Everything reminded her of him.
She didn’t know what was going on in Tudorville, but she hoped it was better than this mess. Surely, they deserved some luck in one of their lives together. Why did it all have to be so difficult?
Her phone rang. She peered at the screen. It was an unknown number. Hmm. Who could that be? She didn’t want to talk to anyone and so she let it ring until the voicemail took over. That’s what voicemail was for, she reasoned. It was probably one of those automated sales calls anyway.
She browsed her emails and mindlessly deleted, filed and responded to the urgent ones, quickly restoring order to her inbox. If only life was as simple to organise.
Later that evening, she checked her phone and saw there were two notifications of new voicemail messages. She pressed the button and listened.
‘Hi, Cari. It’s Dad. Haven’t seen you for ages. Wondering what you’re up to. How are things? Missing you. Call me when you have a moment.’
She’d been terrible about keeping in touch with people lately, even her dear father. Leading a double life, unable to tell people what was really going on, was disorientating.
Well Dad, I’m a time traveller now. I’ve fallen for this great guy who married me five hundred years ago, but in this life, he’s married to someone else. Well, two someone else’s actually.
She imagined the scenario. Yes, exactly. Who would even believe her? No wonder she had withdrawn.
She pressed the number to listen to the next message, trigger happy, ready to delete it in an instant at the first unwanted word. The number of unsolicited sales calls she received was a constant annoyance.
‘Hello, Cara. This is Kate. It was lovely to meet you at the villa in Seville the other day. I’m so sorry you were unwell, and we didn’t get a chance to talk properly. George explained that you wanted to know more about the Tudor Kings’ Manuscript . It’s me who usually deals with those family matters, you see.’
Ouch.
‘ Anyway, I’m back in London and am free this weekend if you want to give me a call. I’d be happy to help in any way I can. This is the best number to catch me on.’
There was a pause for a few seconds and then as if as an afterthought, Kate said, ‘By the way, my brother was most insistent I call. He’s taken rather a shine to you. He always did have good taste. Hope to hear from you soon. Bye.’ Kate chuckled, and the message clicked off.
Cara’s heart thudded. De-dum-de-dum. What? She was his sister! What a fool. And the memories of their meeting raced through her mind. He’d never once said, meet my wife, or let me introduce you to my wife. And Kate had never said anything about him being her husband. She realised now; they had been no more affectionate than any fond siblings.
Duh!
Cara had jumped to conclusions even though she had initially allowed herself to hope he was free. She had grown so used to not being able to be with him that at the first sign, she’d buckled.
Remorse flooded through her and not for the first time where George was concerned, she felt stupid. Things were rarely as they seemed. When would she learn? He had pleaded with her so many times not to jump to conclusions.
She began to laugh like a lunatic. Loud, joyful peals of laughter rocked her body as tears streamed down her face. Was she mad? Could it really be true that not only was he single, but he also had a wonderful sister who was trying to match-make?
Cara sipped her lukewarm tea, stunned. Within twenty-four hours she had gone from being optimistic, to the depths of despair, and now ecstatic with relief. How was it possible that such a simple misunderstanding could rock her world to the core?
One thing was certain, the Twin Flame mission, whatever it was, had woken her up. She had never lived so fully and experienced such a range of emotions as she had since falling in love with George. A warm glow spread through her body, and she sat transfixed; unable and not wanting to move.
London, 1536
Cara awoke shivering. Her nightgown was damp and plastered to her clammy skin. Her head was full of vivid images of George walking to the scaffold on Tower Green.
She shook her head and attempted to shake the dreadful vision. It was only a dream. There was no need to panic. They still had time to save him. She lay there dazed before the nightmare began to recede.
Cara’s heart pounded as she jumped out of bed. Worrying wasn’t going to help. They would break him out today. What were they waiting for? For King Henry to show mercy? That was a fool’s game. The king had never been in a more unpredictable state of mind. She would not leave George’s fate in his hands for one more day.
If he could give the order to execute his own devoted wife and replace her within a few weeks, why would he spare George?
Henry had made a clean sweep of the ranks, with Cromwell dancing to his tune, producing evidence on-demand to substantiate the hundreds of trumped-up charges against so many former favourites. Henry only had to point to his next target, and Cromwell found a way to make it work. He was like the devil’s conjurer. The truth was of no consequence in this evil court. No one dared question Henry, or they’d find themselves next in line to have their head whipped off. He was out of control.
Barely any of the key players from their inner circle were left. George was one of the last remaining few of the old guard. Anyone who reminded Henry of his life with Anne had better watch their back.
There was a loud thud. She rushed to the door to find Swifty peering up at her.
‘Morning, my lady.’
‘Hello, you. What’s going on?’
Swifty appearing at her door usually heralded bad news.
She ushered him in. It wouldn’t do for anyone to overhear their conversation.
‘What’s happening? Pray tell.’
‘It’s my lord.’
‘Yes.’ Cara couldn’t contain her impatience as Swifty pondered how to break the news to her.
‘They told him at first light. He’s for the scaffold today. I slipped away saying I’d deliver the news to his mother, but I must get back. They said I can stay at his side.’
My nightmare was a premonition.
Cara began to tremble and sat down on the edge of the bed.
‘We’re too late. I can’t believe this is happening.’
‘What should I do, my lady? Will you accompany me as his mother?’
The young lad, mature beyond his years, looked as though he were about to cry. She hugged him, for her own comfort as well as his.
‘You are true and loyal to your master. Thank you. Does Edward know?’
He shook his head. ‘I couldn’t find him. He was not in his chamber when I knocked.’
Not for the first time she wished she had her mobile phone. If only she could bring it with her when she travelled. Not that she would have anyone to phone. The useless thoughts whirled around her mind.
‘Please go and look for him while I get dressed. I’ll meet you downstairs in a few minutes.’
‘Yes, my lady.’
She hurriedly disguised herself once again as George’s mother. Her chest was tight, and her eyelids heavy. There was no time for the luxury of emotional outbursts. A steely determination pushed her on.
Edward paced up and down in the dining room and gestured to the food on the table.
‘I can’t eat,’ she said. ‘We’re too late. I must go to him, Edward.’
‘Yes, of course. Do you think it safe?’
‘I don’t care at this point. I can’t not go. We should have broken him out when we had the chance.’
‘It’s all moved so fast. How could we know?’
‘I blame myself. I should have known. Henry is a deadly opponent once he makes up his mind.’
‘I’ll come with you. I’m as much to blame as anyone in this mess, if not more so. If I hadn’t urged you to travel to the future, none of this would have happened.’
Early morning crowds formed outside the Tower gates. The turrets blended into the backdrop of the cold, grey sky. A light spitting rain settled on the grass. The smell of sweat mixed with boiling broth hung in the air. It was a fitting scene for the most awful day of Cara’s life.
The small crowd buzzed with anticipation. Even a private execution on Tower Green was a day out: a distraction when someone else’s misfortune bolstered the mood of the desperate commoners. They consoled themselves that life wasn’t that bad; at least they were alive, unlike the wealthy fool who was about to lose his head. His money hadn’t saved him. They believed there was a righteousness to it. They’d rather be poor and honourable than rich and depraved like the nobility at court. Their attitude gave them courage. It was a day of celebration unless you were unfortunate enough to care for the accused.
Cara and Edward were admitted to Tower Green. The scaffold was sturdy, and the execution block readied. The executioner hadn’t appeared yet, but the tension was palpable in the damp London atmosphere.
‘This is barbaric,’ said Cara. ‘I can’t bear to stay, but I can’t leave either. Where is he? I don’t see him.’
‘He’s not been brought out yet. He will come through that door over there.’ Edward pointed to a small door at the base of the Tower. ‘The locals call it Death’s Door .’
A strangled sob escaped Cara’s raw throat.
‘If George wasn’t of high noble rank, the execution would take place on Tower Hill, and there would be thousands watching,’ said Edward.
Events merged one into the other as Cara’s panic increased. Time stood still, and all she heard was the drumming of her own heart. Despair consumed her every cell. The nightmare had become a reality. This was the end. Her only wish now was that George would see her for a final few seconds before he met his maker. She wanted him to know she was here with him until the end. He must know she had not forsaken him.
She had run first to the Cradle Tower to see if she could catch him and had asked the guard whether it was possible to admit her. The request had been rebuffed with a sharp, ‘You were here yesterday. Cavendish has had his last visitor. We’re preparing him for execution.’
The words cut through Cara. The last vestige of hope was extinguished. It was all she could do not to fall to her knees and beg for mercy. But she knew the guard was powerless. He was simply a pawn in Henry’s killing machine. She almost broke down, but she would not give anyone the satisfaction of seeing her on her knees unless it would save George. To save him, she would do anything. Pride was expendable. But no, it was no use. She would weep forever, but not now. Not now. She must keep it together and be here for him; a symbol of all that had been good about their life together.
She felt a double loss. Now she would be without him in both timelines. Yes, this really was the end. Perhaps her time travel era was over. Once he was gone, the cycle would be complete. She remembered Sylvia holding the Twin Flame card, talking about their Twin Flame mission. Sylvia said their reunion would help to raise the consciousness of the planet.
Well, the mission had failed. It was about to be aborted. Cara was rarely beaten, but a bitter taste of loss filled her mouth. What other misery was in store for her? She had had her fill and wanted no more. She wanted to die with him. What was all of this grand plan for if it was only to end like this?
Her Tudor conditioning reminded her that to wish to die was a sin against her creator. She thought of Thomas and May and how much they needed her. Even the thought of their dear, tender hearts did nothing to restore her desire to live. She didn’t want to be in Tudorville without him. Life was too cruel. Despite her best intentions to be stoic, the tears seeped from her eyes and spilt onto her cold cheeks.
Edward nudged her when George stumbled through the door, pushed along by the guard, hood pulled down over his head, wrists bound.
The executioner followed behind, heavy axe in hand. Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Everyone was in place. It would be over in a few minutes. Cara was breathless and feared she would faint. Only the thought of George looking for her kept her on her feet.
Edward encircled her shoulders with his arm, and she leant against him. They were a couple of rows back from the scaffold.
George’s hood was removed, and he squinted as his eyes adjusted to the light. He looked up and saw her. Even at a distance, she could feel his love. She made an effort to smile for him, but it was more of a grimace.
He smiled back and mouthed, ‘I love you forever.’
Cara blew him a kiss. ‘We will meet again, my love. I am with you always,’ she called, hoping he would catch her words over the noise of the crowd.
She touched her heart with both hands and gestured towards him. She didn’t know if he could see but she thought he looked comforted.
George paid the executioner and officially forgave him for what he was about to do.
The executioner pushed him down towards the block and steered George’s head into position.
Cara gasped. This was it. She steeled herself for the final axe-blow. She had recently witnessed her mistress, the queen, being executed, not imagining that her husband would soon follow.
King Henry stood in the vestibule with Cromwell.
‘You’d better hurry, Sire, or you’ll miss it,’ said Cromwell.