swung open and a large woman with a mass of gray hair and suspicious brown eyes peered out at her visitors. Then, recognition dawned and her mouth rounded to an “o” of surprise.
“Your Grace! Welcome! Come in! I did not realize that you were coming for a visit.” She swept the door wide and waved her hand enthusiastically. “I will put some tea on. Please come in and make yourselves at home.” She curtsied lightly, which was a surprise considering her size. Then, she trundled off toward the kitchen area.
“Please do not trouble yourself,” Sinclair called after her. “Actually, we came to see your daughter, I believe. She is the soothsayer?”
The kettle clanked against the brick oven and the woman’s motions slowed. “My daughter is out back.
She did not tell me that you would be coming today.”
“We only just decided last evening. She might not have known.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed. “She knew. She always knows. I will get her for you.”
Carla took a quick glance at her surroundings, taking in the evidence of poverty, the dirt floors, the makeshift furniture consisting mostly of poultry crates. Thick, burlap sacks covered the windows and on the shelf above the hearth stood a lone figurine, a ray of light in the dim interior. She tried not to shudder and feeling guilty, she lowered her eyes to the floor, concentrating on the toe of her boot.
“Your Grace, how nice it is to see you again.” The girl’s young age surprised Carla. Barely out of her teens, she was fresh-faced and slender with long, graceful hands and a face that was serene and happy despite her circumstances of life.
Sinclair stepped forward and took the young girl’s hand. “Letta, I would like you to meet Miss Carla Morgan. She is from a long way away. She would like to talk to you if you have the time.”
Letta nodded with an understanding that made Carla suspicious. “Of course. Shall we talk out back in the garden? I like to sit in the sunshine. We will not have too many more days like this before winter sets in, I’m afraid.” She led the way through a door lined with rotting timbers, indicating two narrow chairs with a wave of her hand. “My mother was quite taken aback with your sudden appearance, Your Grace.”
“But I would imagine that you were not.”
The soothsayer smiled placidly. “One of the advantages of my gift.” She directed her dark eyes toward Carla and extended her hand. “You wish to speak with me?”
Carla had never talked with a psychic before and if the truth were told, she didn’t really believe in them.
But, of course, she hadn’t really believed in the possibility of time travel before this past week, either.
Circumstances made her a believer. She cleared her throat, cast a nervous glance at Sinclair and licked her lips before beginning. “I don’t know if you know this, but I am not… I don’t belong here.”
The young girl continued to smile, inviting further revelations.
“I went to sleep on a sofa in the library at Heath Castle, but I woke up in a different time.” Difficulty in expressing herself had never been one of Carla’s problems, but she found herself tongue-tied, the words staying hidden in the deepest recesses of her brain. “I know you might find this difficult to understand.”
A thin, blue-veined hand slid across the top of the table to cover Carla’s. “You must feel free to speak at will, Miss Morgan. I can honestly tell you that nothing you say will surprise me.”
Still uncertain, Carla took the young girl at face value. “All right. I am from the twenty-first century.”
The smile returned. “I know.”
That caught Carla off-guard. “You know?”
“I saw you…before you came. I knew you would be coming to our world.”
Carla leaped to her feet, her movements agitated. “If you knew, why didn’t you try to stop this from happening? Did you also know that I didn’t belong here? Did you know that my family would be worried? They probably
“Your Grace! Welcome! Come in! I did not realize that you were coming for a visit.” She swept the door wide and waved her hand enthusiastically. “I will put some tea on. Please come in and make yourselves at home.” She curtsied lightly, which was a surprise considering her size. Then, she trundled off toward the kitchen area.
“Please do not trouble yourself,” Sinclair called after her. “Actually, we came to see your daughter, I believe. She is the soothsayer?”
The kettle clanked against the brick oven and the woman’s motions slowed. “My daughter is out back.
She did not tell me that you would be coming today.”
“We only just decided last evening. She might not have known.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed. “She knew. She always knows. I will get her for you.”
Carla took a quick glance at her surroundings, taking in the evidence of poverty, the dirt floors, the makeshift furniture consisting mostly of poultry crates. Thick, burlap sacks covered the windows and on the shelf above the hearth stood a lone figurine, a ray of light in the dim interior. She tried not to shudder and feeling guilty, she lowered her eyes to the floor, concentrating on the toe of her boot.
“Your Grace, how nice it is to see you again.” The girl’s young age surprised Carla. Barely out of her teens, she was fresh-faced and slender with long, graceful hands and a face that was serene and happy despite her circumstances of life.
Sinclair stepped forward and took the young girl’s hand. “Letta, I would like you to meet Miss Carla Morgan. She is from a long way away. She would like to talk to you if you have the time.”
Letta nodded with an understanding that made Carla suspicious. “Of course. Shall we talk out back in the garden? I like to sit in the sunshine. We will not have too many more days like this before winter sets in, I’m afraid.” She led the way through a door lined with rotting timbers, indicating two narrow chairs with a wave of her hand. “My mother was quite taken aback with your sudden appearance, Your Grace.”
“But I would imagine that you were not.”
The soothsayer smiled placidly. “One of the advantages of my gift.” She directed her dark eyes toward Carla and extended her hand. “You wish to speak with me?”
Carla had never talked with a psychic before and if the truth were told, she didn’t really believe in them.
But, of course, she hadn’t really believed in the possibility of time travel before this past week, either.
Circumstances made her a believer. She cleared her throat, cast a nervous glance at Sinclair and licked her lips before beginning. “I don’t know if you know this, but I am not… I don’t belong here.”
The young girl continued to smile, inviting further revelations.
“I went to sleep on a sofa in the library at Heath Castle, but I woke up in a different time.” Difficulty in expressing herself had never been one of Carla’s problems, but she found herself tongue-tied, the words staying hidden in the deepest recesses of her brain. “I know you might find this difficult to understand.”
A thin, blue-veined hand slid across the top of the table to cover Carla’s. “You must feel free to speak at will, Miss Morgan. I can honestly tell you that nothing you say will surprise me.”
Still uncertain, Carla took the young girl at face value. “All right. I am from the twenty-first century.”
The smile returned. “I know.”
That caught Carla off-guard. “You know?”
“I saw you…before you came. I knew you would be coming to our world.”
Carla leaped to her feet, her movements agitated. “If you knew, why didn’t you try to stop this from happening? Did you also know that I didn’t belong here? Did you know that my family would be worried? They probably
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