Chapter 28
CHAPTER 28
S eville, present day
George reversed his soft top jeep into a visitors’ spot in the car park. It was a glorious, sunny Seville morning, and there was a bounce to his step as he dashed through the hotel’s revolving doors.
He was excited; it wasn’t his usual style to ask a woman out immediately, but this was Cara! He’d been uncharacteristically pushy with his impromptu invitation to drive her to the airport. When she had declined his offer of a drink, he panicked. There was little chance they would meet again if he didn’t pursue her in this new Seville life.
Since the moment she’d stumbled into his villa, he’d felt the spark, and the memories had come flooding in.
He didn’t understand exactly what was happening, but he knew he must see her again.
‘How may I help you, Sir?’ The receptionist flashed him a bright smile.
‘Thank you. I’m here to collect one of your guests: Cara Bailey. We arranged to meet in the lobby, but I can’t see her.’
‘Please take a seat, and I’ll check.’
George sat down in an opulent leather armchair and drummed his fingers on his thigh. Cara had a flight to catch. He calculated it would be at least another fifteen minutes before they got on the road, and then they would most likely be caught in the thick morning traffic.
The receptionist glanced in his direction, and he sensed something was wrong. He rose and approached the reception desk.
‘I’m sorry, Sir. . . I only just realised that Ms Bailey already checked out.’ A light blush stole across her neck, and she shifted her weight from one leg to the other, not able to meet his eyes. ‘I’m not sure how I missed her,’ she mumbled.
‘Oh, I see. No problem. You can’t know what everyone’s up to.’ He smiled to reassure the nervous young woman.
‘We probably crossed wires about where to meet. I’ll give her a quick call. No harm done. Thank you.’
‘Well, that’s the thing, Sir.’ Her blush deepened.
‘My colleague said she ordered a taxi, and Ms Bailey left for the airport over an hour ago.’
‘Oh, right.’ George felt winded as he stared at the rosy-cheeked receptionist.
He tried to gather his whirring thoughts.
‘Did she leave any message?’
He had to ask. Surely, she wouldn’t just leave without letting him know. There must be some misunderstanding; some explanation.
‘Give me a moment, please. I’ll go and check for messages.’
He wouldn’t get to see her after all. What a strange turn of events. Perhaps she’d had second thoughts. Or, maybe he hadn’t allowed her a way to refuse politely, and so she made up an excuse to avoid seeing him. Thoughts bounced around his head. He’d made a fool of himself. It wasn’t like him to have his defences so low.
‘May I ask your name, Sir?’
‘Cavendish. George Cavendish.’
‘Ms Bailey left a note for you with my colleague.’ She pressed an envelope, embossed with the hotel insignia, into his hand.
‘Apologies, once again, for not realising Ms Bailey had already checked out.’
He took the envelope and thanked the receptionist, a bemused expression on his face. He tore it open; his heart beat fast as he raced out of the hotel lobby. He jumped into the jeep and read the note.
Dear George,
I’m so sorry I missed you. I had to dash for an earlier flight and didn’t want to disturb you by calling at the crack of dawn.
Have a good breakfast meeting and perhaps we’ll see each other again.
Kind regards,
Cara
p.s Please give my best wishes to Kate.
George stared at the note. Kind regards.
His stomach lurched. She was so formal. Had he completely misread the signals? Why hadn’t she messaged him to say she was getting an earlier flight? None of it made any sense—unless she didn’t want to see him.
But a little voice in his head said he hadn’t imagined the attraction between them even though she didn’t recognise him.
He pulled out into the heavy morning traffic towards the airport. Maybe, there was still a chance of seeing her. He decided he would message her when he arrived; on the off chance she was delayed.
George wasn’t a man used to being brushed aside by women. His ego was wounded, but it was more than that. He was devastated, and most confusing of all, he had no idea what had happened to his old life—and now she had no desire to see him. By the sounds of it, she’d taken more of a shine to Kate. Not that he didn’t appreciate Kate’s charm; she was extremely likeable. Perhaps if he’d said his sister would join them, Cara would have been more at ease to meet them for drinks.
She would be gone soon. He drove as fast as the traffic permitted. A depressing fog settled upon him and he turned on the radio in an attempt to distract himself. He shook his head and wondered what to do for the best. He was agitated and didn’t like it one bit.
He pulled into the airport and decided to call her. He must hear her voice. Perhaps she’d really had to go early. No answer. He had only ever clicked with Cara in this way. He didn’t want to let her go without giving it his best shot. If she wasn’t interested, then there was nothing more he could do. He felt a haunting sense of loss.
Cara buckled her seatbelt and stared out of the window at the rays of sun glinting on the smooth, sharp lines of the runway. It was a beautiful day, and the flight was on schedule.
Cara was uneasy about lying to George. She hoped she’d done the right thing. But it didn’t feel right. She hadn’t known what else to do. She’d fretted late into the night and barely slept. There was no way her conscience would allow her to repeat the same mistake with him, no matter how much she longed to see him. The fall out on both sides would be too great. He didn’t know what he was getting into. She must protect them both.
It had been unkind to let him come to the hotel to pick her up. She hated being cruel; especially to him. She couldn’t face listening to him talking about his life with Kate, or even worse, flirting as if he were a free agent. She knew she was assuming the worst; it was possible he was genuinely interested in the manuscript and wanted to help. But she couldn’t take the chance. If that’s all she was to him, then she couldn’t bear to face that scenario. However she turned it over in her mind; it was a lose-lose. What a mess she was in. Again.
‘Please turn off all electronic devices.’
She fished her phone out of the side pocket of her bag and saw a notification. There was a missed call and a new message—both from George. Of course. No matter what timeline they were in, she recognised his familiar traits. He didn’t give up easily.
She read the message:
‘Morning. I tried to catch you before your flight for a quick word. Sorry to have missed you. Have a safe journey home. Maybe we can have a drink when I’m next over.’
The pain clawed at her chest. She slumped into her seat, unable to contain her tangle of emotions. She closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep so she could turn off the incessant thoughts.
She must let him go. She must begin a new life without him and leave him to his life with Kate. They simply weren’t meant to be together in this timeline.
A thick black wave of depression engulfed her. Not that Tudorville was any better; it looked like she was about to lose him there too. If only she knew what to do for the best.
The cabin crew readied the plane for take-off. She clamped her eyes shut, fell into a troubled doze, and dreamed about a new scaffold on Tower Green.
Seville, 1840
George and Cara settled into the villa with remarkable speed.
‘I feel as though we’ve lived here for ages. There’s something about this place that feels like home,’ said Cara.
‘Yes, isn’t it beautiful? I could see us living here. Let’s hope the queen doesn’t summon us home any time soon, and we can find sufficient occupation to maintain a good cover.’
‘This villa is breathtaking. Carlos is a gem,’ said Cara.
‘Indeed. I forgot to mention I invited him and Edward over for a drink this evening. We’ll have a chance to discuss the manuscript and get a feel for what’s going on in Seville, so we have something to report.’
Later that evening George made arrangements with Edward to meet with his contact who had custody of the Tudor Kings’ Manuscript . He would commence negotiations to reacquire the three-hundred-year-old document. He was warned it might take some time because Edward thought the collector was reluctant to sell.
Once they had completed their business, Edward said, ‘I was wondering—are you by any chance related to a Joanna Cavendish of York?’
George spluttered and almost choked on a mouthful of red wine. That was the last question he’d expected.
‘Joanna? That’s an unusual name. I can’t say I’ve heard it before. Is there someone, in particular, you’re looking for?’
‘Yes, she’s a friend of mine, and I’ve lost touch with her. It’s been difficult to get word to England with all of the unrest here. With your surname and links with York, I thought you may be related.’
‘I’m sorry, no. The name Joanna doesn’t ring any bells. Cavendish is a popular name in those parts.’
George excused himself. He was shaken. Why would Edward ask about Joanna who lived two centuries into the future? It seemed too strange to be a coincidence, but what else could it be?
Recently he’d returned to present day and found himself living in this exact villa in Seville. There was no sign of Joanna and no Cara either. For the brief time that he was conscious of what was happening; he’d appeared to be single and living alone. He’d set out to discover what had happened to his life in York, but the vortex had swept him back to Victoriana without any answers. And now this mysterious Edward had arrived on the scene.
He made up his mind to talk to him alone and find out what he knew about Joanna.
Tower of London, 1536
Cara was relieved to be back. She wore a blue and white high-necked gown and a navy headdress trimmed with tiny jewels. The headdress cast a shadow over her pale face and served to obscure her features. She had used cosmetics to etch deep lines onto her face in an attempt to look older than her years. George’s mother dressed modestly but in a style which befitted her position.
She’d obtained permission to visit George, and she had to consciously slow her step to avoid attracting attention. She wanted to run to him, but that wouldn’t do. George’s mother was a sedate, mature woman, and everything depended on Cara being cautious. Her heart ticked at an alarming rate as she approached the entrance to Cradle Tower. If she was caught disregarding the king’s ruling, who knew what would happen?
The guard escorted her towards the heavy cell door and pushed it open to reveal George, pacing back and forth near the narrow window. He was expecting his mother. Cara hadn’t dared risk a message to say she would be coming. She wanted to brighten his morning, and this way her cover was in place should his mail be read.
His eyes widened as he scanned her face, and his chiselled lips broke into a joyous smile. His beard was long, and his once white shirt was now filthy and in tatters. No one would guess he had been one of the king’s inner circle.
‘My son,’ she said, moving towards George, her arms outstretched, smiling.
The guard coughed and stepped back abruptly. He was uncomfortable with emotional scenes.
‘Ten minutes. I’ll be outside if you need me.’
‘Thank you,’ said Cara.
The door slammed. George appeared welded to the spot.
‘Is it truly you?’
Cara raced to him and threw herself into his arms. They held each other in silence. Neither of them moved, not wanting the embrace to end.
He held her at arm’s length and examined her face. ‘I feared I’d never see you again. How clever of you to come disguised as my mother,’ he whispered. ‘I should have guessed.’
‘You’re so thin, my darling. I brought you something to eat.’
George pulled her back into his arms and squeezed her as if he didn’t believe she was real.
‘I can’t breathe.’ She laughed but didn’t pull away. It was the most beautiful feeling in the world to be in his arms again.
‘I don’t think I can eat. You get used to not eating much after a while. I’ve no appetite.’
Cara broke off a small piece of the hunk of bread and cheese and handed it to him. ‘Please try and eat. You must keep your strength up.’
He nibbled the bread and looked at Cara. Her presence lifted his spirits more than any food.
Cara tried to hold back her tears as she looked at his tired face. His eyes were haunted, and his skin sallow. The sight of him tore at her heartstrings. She thought it must be the most awful thing in the world to love someone more than you love yourself, but be powerless to save them.
The hard bread stuck in his throat, and he began coughing.
‘How are Thomas and May?’ he managed to wheeze, conscious that the minutes were passing.
‘They’re fine. Hancock collected them and took them home to Willow Manor. They both sent you their love. They will be safe there.’
‘That’s good. Well done.’ He paused and then said, ‘I saw you when you were released, you know.’
‘Yes, I saw you too. I knew you were watching over us. My guardian angel.’ She squeezed his hand.
He lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘But weren’t you supposed to go too? Swifty told me the agreement with the king was that you all return to York.’
‘Yes, that’s right. Hence, my disguise. I thought even Cromwell wouldn’t be so cold-hearted as to refuse your mother access, after banishing your wife.’
‘You must be careful. If you’re recognised by Henry’s spies, who knows what he’ll do to you? He is irascible when crossed.’
‘Don’t worry. I’m staying in lodgings with Edward where no one has any idea who we are.’
‘That’s good. I do worry. There’s not much to do in here but think, which inevitably turns to worry.’
‘I worry about you too. I think of you all the time. You’re the one locked in this godforsaken tower. I wish I were in here with you. I had a vivid dream the other night; it was as though you were calling to me. I walked over here in the middle of the night to be near you.’
George looked startled. ‘I did call out your name the other night. It was the strangest thing; I could feel your presence soothing me. I can’t remember exactly when it was—the days blend into one another. Perhaps it was the same night.’
Tears spilt down Cara’s cheeks. George pulled her close and buried his face in her soft, scented hair. She mustn’t see him cry.
‘I will have to go soon, my darling. Our ten minutes must be almost up.’
‘Yes, I know.’ He increased the pressure as he held her small hand in his large one, wishing they could stay like that forever.
She leaned in towards his ear. ‘We think there’s a high chance of you being pardoned by the king. I don’t want to risk breaking you out now, in case it’s true. It would only make matters worse if we don’t succeed. What do you think? If you want us to break you out, we will put the plan in motion immediately. Just tell me what you want me to do. You know the king’s mind better than I.’
They heard the guard shuffling outside the door.
Cara stared at George, beseeching him for an answer. She needed his guidance. He shook his head, unsure what to say.
They held each other tightly for one last moment.
‘I’ll think it over and get word to you via Swifty. Try and get some rest. You look exhausted. I’m all right. It’ll all work out, I promise.’
‘All right, my darling. I hate to leave you,’ she said.
The guard threw the door open, stuck his face over the threshold and gestured to Cara that it was time to leave. Then he waited outside, leaving them alone.
‘I love you,’ she said quietly. ‘We’ll get you out of here and be together again soon. Just let me know.’ She ran her fingers down his beloved, gaunt face and kissed him gently on the mouth. As she drew away, he pressed his lips to her hand. He turned abruptly so she wouldn’t see the gut-wrenching pain on his face. At the door, she blew him a kiss, and the tears streamed down her face. ‘May God be with you.’
He steadied himself and managed to muster a bright smile. He couldn’t let her go like this. It could be the last time she saw him, and he didn’t want her to remember him as a broken man.
The heavy iron door slammed behind her and George was left alone in the freezing, dank cell, with his dark thoughts. His spirits had been cheered by her brief visit, but the pain of separation now ripped at his heart. Being without her was brutal. He didn’t know how to bear the loneliness. If it weren’t for Cara and the children he would wish himself dead.
Would Henry pardon him? He prayed so, or they would be forced into a dangerous life on the run if they succeeded to break him out.