Page 59 of The Runner
Cara rememberedher present-day life and knew the vortex had swept her back to 1729. Her next Twin Flame mission was becoming clearer to her now that she had the advantage of accessing Caroline’s consciousness in real time.
That night, as she prepared for bed in the familiar green bedchamber in what was both her past and future family home, she thought about the events of the day. In an impassioned moment when it slipped her mind that she was now a governess in the eighteenth-century, she had accused George of caring more about his reputation than he did about his happiness.
‘You would rather be miserable and uphold your family's honour than honour your true feelings.’
He recoiled as if she’d bitten him, and then she saw the light dawn in his dark eyes, and he hung his head and didn’t deny it. After a few seconds, he straightened his shoulders. ‘You are correct, Mistress Radcliff. You see right through me to my despicable weakness, and I have no defence,’ he said, reverting to a brusque biting formality.
It was obvious he was in despair too, but she must get a handle on her emotions. Outbursts like that would only complicate matters for Caroline and be considered subversive, given her lower status.
Or would they? Perhaps hearing the bitter truth was exactly what the lord of the manor needed to jolt him into facing how he felt about her and not allowing his ego to dictate their future.
Before she had entered the priest hole, Sylvia had reminded her on the phone that one of the most painful Twin Flame patterns was for one twin to run from the other when their feelings became too intense for them to bear.
‘They call themThe Runner. I think we discussed it before when you first fell in love in the present day. It can be one or both twins running from the power of the connection, which is why Twin Flame relationships are prone to be so emotionally messy and complex before a couple reaches union.’
Cara didn’t know what to do for the best. On the one hand, her newfound ability to travel on demand was a gift to enable her to hack into the time system so that Caroline and George could find a way to be together despite the class divide. On the other, she must tread carefully, or who knew what she would mess up in the process? Other people’s lives, as well as their future lives, were intertwined with theirs—it wasn’t only them to consider.
From personal experience, she knew that timeline resets were a double-edged sword and had consequences—both good and bad, so she would need all her wits about her if she were to rewrite the timeline and not destroy their future along with it. This would be her most audacious timeline reset yet, and as she lay on the bed in her cold bedchamber, she feared she was not up to the task.
The days becameweeks and George avoided her every time they were in the same room. Cara found it increasingly difficult to live Caroline’s life where George acted like a stranger. She knew from the talk below stairs that he was corresponding with Charlotte, and the expectation in the house was that they would soon marry.
It was hellish to sit and listen to the servants in the kitchen, and so she retreated into herself, and spent most of her free time walking around the estate, wondering if it would all be over soon, and she could go back to living just one life with George.
On one such occasion, she hastened into the grounds before dusk fell, clutching the folds of her cloak around her to shield herself from the chill in the air. The green leaves on the willow trees had turned a golden hue, and winter would soon be upon them. She sighed—it wouldn’t be as easy to escape the confines of the house as in the summer when she had taken to walking for miles through the fields and along the river. It was the only thing that kept her sane through the hard weeks as Cara struggled with her past life in Georgiana. And as she walked, she reviewed her impossible situation, as she so often did.
It was incredible to her that she was back at Willow Manor in yet another timeline, and everything seemed so different and yet strangely the same. The house at least was a constant through the timelines, which comforted her, until she remembered that soon that wouldn’t be the case if she didn’t do something to stop George heading full force down his path of self-destruction. She had noted the gradual changes in him—what had been his light and sunny demeanour had grown troubled, and she heard the servants remark in whispered tones on the dramatic difference in his manner.
Cara tried to beg off the family dinners as much as she could, but sometimes, she had no choice but to attend or she would seem rude and churlish. The previous day, they had dined together and even the countess had commented on George’s out of character behaviour.
‘Really George, must you drink quite so much at this hour? We haven’t even eaten dinner yet… you seem not yourself since the house party.’
‘I am perfectly well, Mother,’ he assured her and took another gulp of whisky.
Cara glanced at him, hoping he wouldn’t see her watching him, but his eyes were already upon her, and she could see he was somewhat inebriated.
‘I shall leave for court again shortly, so you won’t have to put up with my dissolute ways,’ he said.
‘And shall we have the pleasure of dear Charlotte’s company upon your return?’
‘I do not know my plans yet, Mother,’ he replied between mouthfuls, not being drawn so easily into pleasantries.
‘Perhaps a happy announcement will be made soon?’ she continued, undeterred.
Cara thought the countess must assume his sour mood was because of being separated from Charlotte, his heart’s desire.
‘Do you intend to marry her?’ Olivia asked.
George let out a quick burst of laughter, but the humour didn’t quite reach his eyes. ‘I adore your forthright manner, my dear Livvy. It is an uncommon trait for a woman to say exactly what she means, rather than beating around the bush. If only more women had the same gift,’ he said, his eyes passing over Cara for the briefest of pauses.
She looked down at her plate, her heart beating wildly and nausea threatening to overwhelm her.
Is he accusing me of not speaking truthfully?
They had avoided each other, and now he was lashing out. Cara couldn’t make out this eighteenth-century version of George at all. He had seemed cold and unfeeling following their passionate kiss in the kitchen. It was as if he disliked her, and she didn’t know how to reach him, and so she had distanced herself further, but she was acutely aware that the clock was ticking and that avoiding him would not bring them together. Seeing him lash out now made Cara realise that the avoidance was a protection measure.
Of course—it’s classic George. Why didn’t I see it?
Cara chastised herself for her blindness. She’d been so caught up in her own feelings and vision of what needed to happen that she’d overlooked reality.
