Page 33 of The Runner
Sincerely and with my very best wishes,
George Cavendish
‘Does he ask after me?’Olivia interrupted Caroline’s reverie as she gazed at the letter, transfixed by thoughts of George at the palace. She wondered how he passed his days and, more importantly, with whom. Dare she hope he thought of her in the way she thought of him?
She shook her head slightly and took a deep breath. ‘Yes, Lord Cavendish asks after you and bids us not tarry in the village and we may only travel with an escort.’
Olivia’s eyes widened. ‘Really? Whatever for? We’ve been riding without incident for months. That is simply unreasonable.’
‘Unreasonable or not, he is the head of the family, and we must follow his thoughtful instruction.’
Caroline had been nervous about the potential visit from Ralph, but so far, he had not followed through on his threat. Nevertheless, she found herself on edge and always alert for his approach when she was out on the estate and thereabouts. What had once been a pleasant friendship had taken a sinister turn when he allowed his jealousy to dictate his actions towards her.
On one occasion, when she lingered at the stables alone after an afternoon outing, the hairs on her neck stood on end and a fierce shiver ran down her spine. She turned abruptly, sensing someone watching her, but other than a slight rustle in the bushes, she saw no one, and dismissed her suspicion as fanciful.
Folding the letter and clutching it in her hand, she excused herself for a minute and dashed up to her bedchamber to study it further and savour it alone. The letter filled her with optimism and joy, and after tucking the letter away in one of her drawers,she left the room with a renewed buoyancy in her step.
Perhaps she dared hope her feelings were reciprocated, after all. Surely, a great man such as George would not take the time to write to her if he didn’t care for her? Throughout the day, the letter stayed in her mind, always in her consciousness, and she glowed at the memory.
Willow Manor,York - Present day
George’s sister,Kate, was due to arrive that morning and he whizzed off early to meet her at Leeds Bradford airport while Cara stayed at home to keep an eye on the building work.
She thought it would be an excellent opportunity to see if she could locate the Georgiana volume of the family history series. Cara was exhausted from a disturbed night which she hadn’t mentioned to George, not wanting to worry him when he was so excited about Kate’s imminent arrival.
The previous night she had a nightmare which had shaken her to the core. Caroline lingered at the stables, stroking the shiny chestnut mare she rode most days, oblivious to being observed. Then she saw her start and look around the stables. In the dream, the same visceralfear Caroline experienced gripped Cara, but unlike Caroline, she clearly saw Ralph watching the young woman from behind the shed at a discreet distance.
Cara wanted to cry out to warn her, but the words wouldn’t form on her tongue, and then she awoke in a wild panic, her senses hammering. Her nightdress was damp, her skin hot, and she drew several deep breaths as she rested her head back down on the pillow, trying not to disturb George, who slept peacefully beside her. Her heart gradually returned to a slower rhythm, but her mind flitted manically from fearful thought to thought.
The nightmare showed that Ralph Knight hadn’t given up on Caroline. She guessed he would continue to try and separate her from George and win her back. Cara tossed from side to side until the first hint of pink-hued daybreak splashed through the slits in the wooden shutters, casting shadows on the whitewashed walls, and the birds in the old oak treeoutside their window began to stir and chirp. She lay there a while, trying to quieten her hectic mind, but it was clear she would not get any more sleep.
Cara swung her legs off the mattress and pushed her feet into her slippers. Grabbing her robe, she slipped through the bedroom door and went downstairs, treading carefully on the creak-prone staircase. She poured the boiling water from the kettle onto the tea bag and watched the golden colour seep into the water before adding a splash of milk. Then she carried her cup through to the snug and curled up with a blanket in the armchair near the window, sipped her tea and tried to make sense of the nightmare, which seemed more like a premonition.
Ever since she discovered the priest hole in the library, Cara found herself in a confusing new world. Knowing there was a wormhole in the library, which, if Eddie’s conclusion was correct, would transport her to Georgiana on demand, presented alarming choices she didn’t feel equipped to face. She pulled the soft blanket further over her legs and stared out of the window at the ancient willow trees swaying gently in the breeze.
She wondered how much of Caroline’s story she had witnessed so far in her dreams.
Is this a sign for me to intervene, and if so, should I?
After breakfast when George left for the airport, Cara dressed quickly in a pair of pale green cotton trousers and a cream silk shirt, and entered the library, determined to look for the Georgiana history volume. After an hour of intensive combing of the shelves and nothing to show for it, she sank onto the comfy sofa and took a short break, her weary muscles aching.
She decided she needed a coffee and went to make one. George wouldn’t be back for a while yet, so she still had plenty of time before Kate arrived.
As she stirred the coffee, her eyes fell to the row of cupboards that lined the floor of the old basement kitchen. An idea flitted into her mind— what if the volumes were stored in the kitchen cupboards, which were used to store so many household items from previous owners who hadn’t wished to take them when they left?
She’d made lots of surprising finds in the past few months, and suddenly a thrill of excitement shot through her. Cara opened the sets of heavy wooden doors one after the other and hunted meticulously through each storage space. She had to stop herself from being derailed from her mission when she found various fascinating items, such as a pot that looked like a Georgian antique. She reached up to place it on the kitchen counter and then continued with her search for the history volume.
Just as she was losing hope and flagging again, her hands touched a large wooden box. She pulled it out towards the cupboard entrance and impatiently wiped the dust from the top, revealing a shiny wooden surface as she fumbled with the clasp. At first it was stubborn and wouldn’t open to her touch, so she grabbed a tea towel and increased the force, pressing carefully with her fingers. After several attempts, the clasp clicked, and the lock sprang open and triggered the part-shiny, part-dusty lid to bounce slightly, causing Cara to sneeze violently.
She lifted the heavy box out of the cupboard and onto the cold kitchen floor, moved to her knees and pushed the lid upwards and peered into the box. Rows of exquisitely bound books were snugly stacked inside, and she rubbed one of the spines clean with the tea towel to reveal the words:Cavendish Family History, Volume III.She dusted off the other books, but was disappointed to see there weren’t more volumes.
Just as she was about to look through the book, she heard wheels outside and Cornelius barking frantically. She peered out of the window and saw George retrieving cases from the boot of his car, and Kate staring up at the house, a delighted expression on her pretty face.
Cara hurriedly shoved the books away, washed her hands and headed out the back door to greet her sister-in-law. Georgiana would have to wait.
But would it?
CHAPTER15
