Page 5 of The Uprising
They talked nostalgically about their present-day lives, and then Cara said, ‘I will leave for the palace tomorrow. I must break the news to the children without delay.’
Cara left for London the following morning, just as first light painted the dull grey sky with broad golden swirls. The roads were wet after days of rainfall and blustery winds, but Hancock, their steward, assured her they were fit for purpose and conditions were no worse than expected for that time of year. Cara wrapped herself up in multiple layers; she felt the cold bitterly after months in their cosy cottage and still hadn’t adjusted to the biting cold of Tudor England.
She bid the children and Edward farewell during a hasty breakfast and convinced them to remain inside in the morning chill. Cara couldn’t bear to see their distraught little faces as she rode away. It would be a long and exhausting journey, but she was mentally prepared. Hancock would accompany her all the way as it was dangerous for a woman to travel such a distance alone. He was an accomplished rider, and it wasn't long before their horses settled into a steady rhythm.
Her mood had lightened considerably. She felt a delicious stirring of anticipation at the promise of being reunited with George, and even court seemed suddenly inviting. There would be plenty to keep her busy, and the queen would need her support.
Cara consoled herself she would have her dear friend, Margaret for company because George had mentioned in one of his letters that she hadn’t been banished and had remained at court following Queen Anne’s execution.
Cara consciously committed to do her best to put her mistrust of the king aside, or it would only lead to trouble, which she was determined to avoid this time. It wasn’t Queen Jane’s fault she had been ordered to marry a tyrant. Cara instinctively knew what the role required, and she would rise to the situation and fulfil her royal duty once again.
Hampton Court Palace, London, One week later - Tudorville
Cara moved back into the familiar Clock Court apartment with George, and despite the harrowing memories of their arrests, she soon felt at home.
One morning, she extracted a dusty volume of a collection of poems from the shelf and passed a quiet half an hour thumbing through the pages. She heard the maids enter the apartment and decided she would finish the poem she was reading and make her way over to the queen’s rooms, so they could get on with their chores undisturbed.
Their high-pitched chattering floated into the room and interrupted her concentration.
‘I pity her poor ladyship, what with Lord Cavendish besotted with that woman. The word was he and Lady Cara are a love-match, but they seem no more special than any other wedded couple.’
‘Men are all the same. The minute your back is turned, they take their pleasure where they can get it.’
The volume of their conversation dropped, and the words muted, and Cara struggled to hear what they said. Her heart thumped and raced; the noise pounded in her ears as though she were drowning. She couldn’t catch her breath and she gasped for air.
What woman?
She shoved the book back onto the shelf, her hand shaking as she tried to tune back into the steady stream of mutterings. She made out the occasional word, but by now they had moved on to other intrigues, and she had no wish to alert them to her presence. That would be too humiliating, so she slipped silently out of the bedchamber and went in search of George.
Her mind swirled with unanswered questions. Could what they said be true? She found it hard to believe, but several months had passed until her arrival at Hampton Court. He had been here without her, so anything was possible. He had mentioned little about what had been going on. But still, theirs wasn’t one of those ordinary marriages where people cheated, was it? A heavy cloud of gloom enveloped her, and the old violent feelings of jealousy rose up and threatened to strangle her.
She would have it out with him as soon as she could. Cara had no interest in seeking second-hand gossip; she would ask George directly. It was only fair not to assume the worst and to give him a chance to defend himself against the allegation.
Cara's heart raced increasingly faster as she considered the possibilities; she hadn't been this distraught since the painful days when they fell in love in present-day York.
Is it happening again?
She had learned much from the devastating previous chain of events and attempted to consciously rein herself in. She knew she was now in danger of jumping to conclusions and acting on them in anger. But it was easier said than done to hold back. She desperately reminded herself that things are not always as they seem.
‘Have you seen Lord Cavendish this morning?’ she asked one of the footmen.
‘Yes, my lady. He left on horseback with His Majesty, a short while ago. You just missed them.’
Damn it.
‘Did his lordship give any indication of when he means to return?’
‘No, none that I know of, my lady.’
Cara’s mood plummeted further at the thought of waiting around all day with this dreadful vision lodged in her mind, and the shooting pain which threatened to eviscerate her insides. She could barely breathe. The build-up of unanswered questions and fears would be intolerable. No: she would have to seek answers elsewhere, after all. Perhaps she could clear up the misunderstanding, and there would be a simple explanation and no need to trouble George with the servants’ tittle-tattle.
Cara entered Queen Jane's apartments and made her way over to the cushioned window seat and sat down next to her companion, Margaret.
After re-joining London court life, she had thought that nothing much had changed in the months they had been absent. Poor Queen Anne had met a tragic end and was instantly replaced by the sweet, innocent new queen, who some implied, the king found to be more amenable to his demands. Even a few of George’s old circle of courtiers had trickled back into the fold; although many had lost their heads in the court reshuffle. The king had some fresh faces around him, but the game appeared to be much the same.
Stay always in the king’s favour and try not to put your life in jeopardy. Keep the queen sweet, but not too sweet if you are a gentleman, as that would inevitably result in a fresh set of dangers; the king had a jealous nature. Maintaining royal favour was a thin and spiky line to tread, which required the courtiers to live by their quick wits at all times.
‘Good day, my dear Margaret. Are you well? How was the queen this morning?’ Cara made light conversation and hoped Margaret wouldn’t spot the wild panic in her eyes.
