Page 76 of The Runner
“Lord George Cavendish lost the card game to Master Ralph Knight, and with it, the Willow Manor estate. The earl accused his opponent of cheating and Ralph Knight demanded satisfaction in the form of a duel. The earl accepted the challenge.”
Cara closed the book with a thud and headed towards the door to look for George. But then she heard the buzz of the vortex and the chill of the freezing air enveloped her. She felt herself slipping away.
And then she was gone.
Willow Wick,York - Georgiana
The tall willowtrees lined the outskirts of the clearing, like soldiers on guard to witness the duel.
George and Ralph stood at opposite ends of the small group of spectators. They swished their blades, practiced lunges, and readied themselves for the fight that would decide their destiny. They had a brief conversation with their seconds and then the opponents moved close enough to reach out and touch each other with their swords.
Ralph’s second, his brother, stood nearby looking pale and anxious. Taylor stood near his master, and an ominous silence filled the clearing in the woods. The only sound was the gentle ripple of the waters flowing in the cold river.
‘According to the rules of the duelling code I am beholden to enquire whether you wish to apologise, and I offer you the opportunity to call off the duel…,’ said Ralph, after one of the small crowd of onlookers instructed him on the necessary protocol.
George didn’t falter and immediately replied, ‘I think not, Master Knight. It is you who cheated, not I. Let us proceed—unless of course you would apologise and are willing before these witnesses to forsake your ridiculous claim to my estate.’
Ralph’s face darkened, and he swished his rapier sword through the air from side to side. ‘No, Sir. You accepted my challenge and therefore we shall duel to decide the outcome. I have only one question.’
‘Let us hear it, Master Knight.’
‘We both know what we are about to do is illegal in the eyes of the court,’ said Ralph.
The tension in the crowd was palpable and the cooing of a wood pigeon echoed through the clearing.
George inclined his head in agreement. ‘Yes, and we must agree on the terms so there is no doubt as to the winner.’
‘Are you still for duelling to the death, then?’ Ralph asked.
A dense silence fell as the crowd of hardened gamblers and weary revellers from all layers of village society watched, mesmerised, as the duellists prepared for the fatal fight.
‘Yes, to the death, or until one of us begs for mercy. And if I prevail, your claim to Willow Manor and my supposed gambling debt are wiped clean. Do I have your word before these many witnesses?’ George’s voice grew louder as he outlined the terms of the duel.
Ralph nodded and said, ‘Yes, I accept your terms.’
George withdrew a leather glove from the pocket of his long coat and threw it onto the ground, which was a sign for the duel to begin.
The duellists took tentative steps, circling each other in the centre of the clearing. Their seconds stood by and watched as George and Ralph locked swords.
Caroline stopped onlyto rest her aching limbs briefly and exchange horses at an inn before continuing her journey to York. An inner force propelled her onwards and battled her foggy mental fatigue and bodily exhaustion, and she sensed that hers and the fate of the man she loved hung in the balance, and depended on what she did next.
Her dreams had been a confusing mixture of past, present, and future and all she knew for certain was that she must get to Willow Wick to stop something dreadful happening, but she knew not what.
She had flashes of clarity when she was aware she was Cara, but then Caroline’s consciousness took over and she lost the connection and was just a governess trying to find the man she loved. She had ridden through the night as fast as she could. Her pace was slow as the horse had been hesitant to move fast through the dark, and the chestnut mare jumped at the shadows and at every noise of the awakening countryside.
She steadied the mare as best she could, and they pressed on until they arrived at the outskirts of Willow Wick. The rising light told her dawn was already upon them, and she was freezing from the shower of icy rain which sprayed down on her head, causing her to shudder beneath the folds of the thick, velvet lined cloak which was a gift from dear Olivia.
As she entered the village, intending to knock on her father’s door, her eyelids grew heavy from lack of sleep, and she longed to close her eyes and forget the sense of foreboding which nudged at her senses. But before she could give way to her desire for slumber, the smell of burning assailed her nostrils and throat until she coughed and spluttered. The night air was heavy with the acrid smell of smoke, and she wondered what the cause of it at this early hour could be. Even the most dedicated of servants would only just be thinking about preparing the fires in the hearths of the big house.
Cara’s memory kicked in and the reality of what was about to happen flooded her mind.
There was a fire at Willow Manor! That was part of the legend of the house and why it had fallen into ruin all those years ago.
She spurred her horse on in what she gauged was the direction of the house and it wasn’t long before she saw orange flames leaping and licking in the distance, like a mirage of doom. Caroline pushed the tired mare on and rallied her to go faster, and they cantered towards the flames. All she could think of was who was at home. She feared the members of the household would all still be asleep and trapped in the burning house.
Would George die in the fire in this alternative timeline? What have we done?
Willow Manor,York - Present day
