Page 66 of The Uprising
‘He was dressed Tudor-style, with a heavy fur-trimmed cloak draped around his shoulders. It was as though he’d stepped right out of Tudorville.’
George stared at her. ‘A fellow Tudor time traveller? But how can that be? When we move through time, we merge with our past selves. Travelling with clothes through time is impossible. Isn’t it?’
The man’s sinister, piercing blue eyes filled her mind. ‘I don’t know, but I have a feeling I’ve met him before.’
The Bank of England, London, 1848 - Victoriana
Cuthbert was true to his word and made an introduction to the bank, which instantly opened both metaphorical and physical doors. It wasn’t a simple procedure to acquire a vault at the Bank of England.
‘It sounds as though you need a private vault. We’ll open one in your name forthwith by invitation of the queen to avoid any delays,’ said the clerk, appraising George through his tiny spectacles, which rested precariously on his large, bulbous nose. The dapper, suited clerk then tucked the vault register under his arm and beckoned them to follow as he led the way through a maze of cool corridors. ‘Follow me please, Lord and Lady Cavendish.’
George noticed Cara’s sparkling eyes and could see she was enjoying the novelty of the occasion. It wasn’t every day you got to see behind-the-scenes of an iconic building.
The network of rooms occupied a cavernous space, and they continued walking for several minutes, threading in and out of the shadows and around countless closed doors. Then the clerk came to a halt outside a heavy grey door and fumbled with a big set of keys before turning to them and scanning their faces.
‘This is it,’ he said. ‘Have you your items you want to store in the vault?’
‘Yes,’ said George, indicating the wrapped painting for the clerk to see. ‘It’s just this for now.’
‘Very good,’ he said. ‘There are several private vaults in this room. I know exactly which one to allocate to suit your purposes.’
They walked through the narrow door, following him into a small room that was empty apart from a gleaming wooden chair and a small matching table. The walls were lined with silver doors, and drawer handles protruded from them. The clerk leant down to open one of the vault doors and unlocked it with a silver key.
He opened the door and pointed to the vacant storage vault. ‘Is this to your liking?’
‘Indeed,’ George replied. ‘This will do splendidly.’
‘Very good. I shall step outside and leave you to your business. Take as long as you need, and I’ll be waiting to lock up and sign you out.’
Cuthbert followed the clerk out of the vault-room, and George and Cara’s eyes met.
‘This is terribly clever,’ she said.
‘Yes, it’s very impressive.’
‘Is the painting really so valuable to warrant keeping it here?’
‘Not yet, but it will be. It’s best to keep these types of collector items in a safe place out of the house unless we want them on the walls for pleasure.’
‘It’s all very top-secret,’ she said.
‘It’ll be useful for us to have a private vault—especially if we travel for an extensive period again and don’t want to leave our valuables in someone else’s care at home.’
George removed the layers ofpaper from the Turner masterpiece and rested it against one wall for a final look. He stepped backwards to the other side of the room and reached for Cara’s hand. He wanted to view the painting one last time before storing it in the vault. If he’d got this right, he would soon be back to retrieve it in present-day, but if not, it could be the last time he saw it.
‘Isn’t it glorious?’ he said.
‘Absolutely breath-taking. I’m so happy we haveChelsea at Dawnfor us to enjoy on the wall at home.’
‘Me too. This one is calledChelsea at Dusk,’ he said. ‘The pair are equally stunning, but I particularly love the optimism of the dawn painting.’
‘It was so thoughtful of you to surprise me like that,’ she said, turning to kiss him in the privacy of the vault room.
He returned her kiss as he held her waist and said, ‘I’m so glad you like it. I’ll place the painting in the vault and we can lock up and leave in a moment.’
George lay the signed note he’d obtained from Turner to prove the painting’s authenticity and the legal purchase, in the vault next to the painting which he’d slipped back into the paper casing for protection. He cast one more glance into the vault and then closed the door firmly and slotted the key into the lock and turned it. There was a satisfying snap as the key secured the vault. He tested the door to double check it was locked and then slipped the key into the pocket of his waistcoat and retrieved his hat from the table.
‘Shall we go, my love?’ George offered Cara his arm, and they exited the room.
