Page 37 of The Runner
George raised an eyebrow at Cara and swiftly changed the subject. ‘Ready to see the tunnel? Remember I warned you, it’s just a black hole without much of anything to see, but imagine for a moment, if you will, the Jesuit priest, rigid with fear, concealed in the walls of this beautiful room, praying for his life and that of his protectors.’
‘You do know how to set the scene. I got chills at the thought of that poor priest. What happened to him? Did he live?’ she asked, barrelling a cannon of questions at her brother, who was used to her endless curiosity and took it effortlessly in his stride.
‘We’re only just discovering more about what happened. I didn’t even know there was a priest until we found this hole. I found a volume of family history which refers to a Jesuit priest who was hidden by our ancestors’ tutor. Local hero, as far as I can tell, so it sounds like his actions saved the priest from being discovered, but we don’t know for certain.’
‘We don’t know all the details yet… if we ever will,’ said Cara. ‘These historic matters are notoriously difficult to get to the bottom of as they become entwined with people’s different versions of what happened.’
Kate’s interest only intensified, and her eyes shone as she processed the information, which alarmed Cara, but made perfect sense. If she wasn’t interested in the family’s heritage and history, she wouldn’t have bothered to find out all she had.
‘Okay, get ready for a bit of jiggery-pokery,’ said George, as he raised his hand and pushed against the section of the shelving which concealed the priest hole. He then pushed his weight against it, and they heard a noise as the shelves slid from their usual position and swung open to reveal the black hole.
‘Wow!’ said Kate. ‘How on earth did you find this, Cara? It’s so well hidden.’
Cara gave her a potted version of what she’d been up to and how she’d fallen on the shelves when they’d swung open.
‘Can we go in?’ asked Kate, excited as a child.
‘I knew you’d want to!’ George replied. ‘Hang on—where is the torch?’
‘Ah, yes, we need the magical torch without which we do not enter. I warn you, though, it’s musty and freezing in there. Are you sure you want to, and wouldn’t rather just poke your head inside? I can flash the torch so you can see the walls and ceiling from here,’ said Cara.
Kate turned to her sister-in-law and clasped her hand. ‘You’re not getting off that easily. Come on, let’s go in together.’
Before Cara could come up with a reasonable excuse not to follow, Kate tugged her by the hand and pulled her through the gap until they were inside. Kate had taken the torch and was shining it up and down and around as they entered.
‘You are going to make a lot of money with this place. It’s fabulous! I can almost sense the poor priest in here, shaking and terrified of being discovered at any moment. How brutal.’
She pulled Cara along behind her, one hand in hers and the other on the torch. ‘Let’s go right to the end,’ she said.
Cara didn’t reply. Without causing a scene which would only draw more attention to their desire to hide something, she couldn’t think of a way to extract herself from Kate’s determined progress towards the end of the priest hole.
Cara approached the wall as slowly as she could without stopping. The wordsgatewayandwormholeran through her mind with each step she took towards her potential fate. She peered backwards over her shoulder, trying to see George, but the shadows obscured his face. She felt his hand touch her back and pat her reassuringly.
‘Take it slowly,’ George said. ‘It’s easy to trip in these small spaces.’
Cara inched forward, her hand limp in Kate’s, the pressure of her booming heart so intense she feared it would explode in her throat and choke her. She struggled to swallow and to breathe. ‘I think I’m having a panic attack,’ she gasped.
Willow Wick,York - Georgiana
It was a particularly warm day,and the sun glinted across the green hills and golden wheat fields, showing Yorkshire at its most captivating. Caroline and Olivia cantered down the footpath, enjoying the fresh breeze which took the sting out of the hot noon sun.
The cheerful groom, who was only too happy to have a break from his routine and be out for a ride, followed a way behind to keep a watchful eye on them but to give the illusion they were alone. Whenever Caroline spotted him, she was reminded of how thoughtful and caring George was. Another brother could have easily overlooked the finer details of protecting his younger sister and left it to his mother, but not George. He was cut from a different cloth than most, Caroline realised. Her heart was full of him and though she hadn’t seen him in person for what seemed like forever, she now knew him intimately from her detailed dreams which had shown her their life together in a distant future where they were in love and perfectly suited. She had decided to stop worrying about how strange it all was, and to just enjoy the experience. It was her secret, and she hugged it to herself as they rode.
But how she missed him in her day-to-day life when she could not see him in her dreams, and he was far from Willow Manor at the Georgian court.
Sometimes when they rode into the village or pottered about the estate, she sensed someone watching her and couldn’t help but wonder if it was Ralph. He still hadn’t fulfilled his threat to visit her at Willow Manor, but she feared he would not give up easily. She knew him too well—he would have a plan, and she was certain it wouldn’t be one she liked. For that reason, she was all too pleased to have Taylor, George’s groom, as a chaperone, and she shivered slightly, despite the heat, at the thought of Ralph spying on her.
As they rode, her thoughts switched to her father. She visited him as often as she could, but explained she wished to avoid Ralph. He assured her he was occupied with the school and his books, and she must not worry about him. He always enquired after the countess’s health, and she could see how proud he was that his daughter was in residence at Willow Manor. ‘I can’t quite say why, but it seems right and fitting that you be there,’ he said one Sunday morning when she made a brief visit to the cottage alone. ‘You were always different from the others. Destined for greater things. Your mother would be so proud to see you have become a fine lady,’ he said.
Olivia’s words broke the spell of her introspection, and she looked up to see her waving excitedly in the direction of a carriage and horses moving at a steady pace on the track in the distance. ‘It’s the carriage in which George travelled to London,’ she called, her voice high-pitched and squeaky with excitement. ‘George is home! George is home!’
Caroline was overcome with conflicting emotions. Feelings of joy swirled in her chest that he was home, but she dreaded the implications of facing him every day as though nothing untoward was happening between them.
As far as he was concerned, nothing was happening between them… Part of her yearned to flee to her father’s cottage and avoid meeting him. While part of her; a more insistent part, desired to turn around immediately, return to the house to behold his handsome face and bask in his all-consuming presence.
Olivia drew her horse to a halt as Caroline, who had fallen a little way behind, joined her. ‘Are you certain it’s Lord Cavendish and not someone else visiting?’
Olivia nodded, her eyes shining. ‘It’s him. I know it’s him. I could make out the crest on the side of the carriage. Only the immediate family use the crested carriages and Mother is at home today.’ She pulled on the horse’s reins and expertly turned around.
