Page 67 of The Uprising
The clerk locked the door and escorted them back to the reception desk. George signed the vault register, and the clerk handed him a receipt.
‘Keep the receipt as a precaution, but the key is your absolute proof and a necessity for opening your vault.’
‘What happens if we lose it?’ asked George.
‘I advise you to ensure that doesn’t happen—the vaults are designed to be passed down through generations and the key is mandatory to gain access. If any change is made to the security system, we’ll notify you by mail, so you can make the necessary adjustments.’
George inclined his head in agreement.
‘Until whichever time you or someone on your behalf returns, your vault will remain untouched. You can rest assured there is no safer place in the world than the Bank of England,’ continued the clerk.
They left the building and as if by magic, the royal carriage drew up in front of the bank and George assisted Cara up the steps and they settled into their seats. Cara looked out of the window as the bright London afternoon passed by and they weaved through the streets back towards Buckingham Palace.
George extracted the key from his waistcoat pocket and turned it over in his hands, enjoying the weight of the cold metal. He thought about Cara in York and how excited she would be to hear that he’d managed to store the painting in the vault and they could retrieve it and move forward with buying Willow Manor.
Part one of their plan was complete, and he was relieved he’d got the masterpiece into the vault, but he wondered when he would return to the future and be able to set part two of their exciting plan in motion.
Cara noticed his furrowed brow and the troubled expression in his eyes.
‘What troubles you, my love? I thought you would be pleased to have put the painting somewhere safe like you’ve been meaning to do for a while.’
He popped the key back into his pocket and attempted to pull himself into the present. ‘I am pleased. Shall we go home and have tea?’ He smiled into the adoring eyes of his nineteenth-century wife but was frustrated at himself for wishing he was in present-day York. He envied the future version of himself, and he felt trapped by his lack of control.
And worse still—how could Cara ever understand he yearned to be somewhere else with someone else?
That night he dreamt of a life which was doomed to be always just out of reach and he awoke at dawn feeling bereft, his body coated in cold, clammy sweat. How he missed his normal life. He willed himself back to sleep, to dull the sharp pain of loss for a few merciful hours.
Chapter 21
Willow Manor, York, 1536 - Tudorville
Cara knocked sharply on the schoolroom door, turned the handle, and walked inside before Edward could respond.
‘Mother! Mother!’ shouted May, throwing her book down on the desk in reckless abandon as she shot up from the hard, wooden chair and covered the distance between them.
Thomas rose and bowed to his mother, always the more restrained of the two children. Cara saw a joyful smile light up his youthfully handsome face and she beckoned to him to join them. May clung to her, and Cara hugged her daughter’s small body against her chest.
‘What a surprise,’ said Edward, his eyes searching Cara’s, wondering what news she brought.
‘Hello, dear Edward. It’s quite wonderful to see you all. I didn’t have time to send word ahead that I was on my way, so apologies for the unexpected disturbance.’
‘Please don’t apologise. It’s always a pleasure to have you back with us, Lady Cavendish. The children were asking only yesterday when they might see you again.’
Cara beamed at each of them and continued to hug the children, who were overcome by her sudden return.
‘My, you have grown,’ she said, holding May’s shoulders at a distance so she could see her better. ‘You are going to be a tall young lady—that much is clear. And Thomas, my boy, you have filled out and are growing into a fine young man. I have missed you both.’
‘We’ve missed you too, Mother,’ said Thomas, polite and earnest. ‘Pray tell us what news is there of Father?’
‘Father is on a mission for the king and I intend to continue on to join him shortly, but first I had to see you.’
The children had lost whatever concentration they had before her entrance, and Edward suggested they break for a while and go out to take some air in the grounds.
They made no complaints, and May chattered to her mother all the way down the stairs and clutched her hand as though she would never release her.
Seeing their little faces aglow at the sight of her, she felt guilty, as she so often did, that she didn’t live at Willow Manor like before she was summoned to court. But this was their duty and as long as she and George enjoyed royal favour, they would spend a great deal of time in London at the various palaces. It was the way of things and there was no point regretting what couldn’t be. The children were well cared for by Edward and their grandparents, and it was safer for them here at Willow Manor, far from poisonous court intrigue.
Cara contemplated what would happen if the timeline had reset. The year, 1537, flashed before her eyes—again.
