Chapter Six

 

 

The soft strains of music entered her wild dreams, dreams where she saw herself racing through the woods with a handsome man. A part of her brain was sending signals that she must wake up, yet all Maggie Wanted was to return to the man with such beautiful eyes, who professed to love her more than she’d ever thought was possible. Still the soft, quaint notes lulled her away, and soon she had lost him. Knowing she could never recapture such a wondrous dream, she began accepting, reluctantly, that it was time to awaken. Her senses became more alive, and Maggie smelled the faint aroma of food. Blinking, she stretched her arms and was about to yawn when her vision was captured by a continuing nightmare.

She couldn’t believe it!

The guy from the faire was dressed in a new costume of burgundy and white, and he was sitting on a chair in the corner of the room with his leg propped up on a cushioned stool as he played a mandolin. And… and the woman who had seemed so nice and then drugged her, was sitting at her bedside sewing something as she slowly nodded in time to the music! They both looked so peaceful, so innocent, as though both were sane!

The woman glanced at Maggie and dropped her sewing to her lap. A smile Maggie would have sworn was real appeared.

“You have awakened, child. How do you feel?”

Maggie attempted to bring moisture into her dry mouth. It didn’t help her mood to realize that as she was licking her lips the troubadour stopped playing his weird-looking guitar and was now staring at her.

Wide-awake, she pushed herself into a sitting position, and said, “I hope you both realize kidnapping is a major crime in any country. I demand that I be released!” It sounded so melodramatic, like something someone would say if they were in a movie, and that feeling of strangeness returned with force.

Why would they still be keeping up this elaborate charade?

“Lady Margaret, cousin, daughter of the sister of my soul, I would not hold you against your will, nor would anyone here.” Elthea looked beyond her to Nicholas and smiled in acknowledgment before turning back to Maggie. “I ask your indulgence for aiding in your rest, child, yet I can see that you are still confused. Pray let us speak of this with a calm voice, so we may each be heard. I ask this with your best wishes in my heart.” She delicately patted the center of her breast. “I will listen and speak through this.”

Despite the chaos that was wildly running through her head, Maggie found herself nodding in mock agreement. What were her other options? She could make a mad dash for the door. The drugs had worn off. They might not catch her, but it was now dark, and she didn’t see herself running through forest and stream in the middle of the night, searching for a Renaissance Festival and the year 2000. All she was certain of was the fact she wasn’t about to be drugged again.

“O-kaaay,” she rasped. She simply didn’t know how to refuse such respectful logic and cleared her throat. “All right. Where am I? What year do you think it is?” Wow. Maybe she was still a little woozy.

No one said anything. They were both staring at her as if she’d lost her senses. “Okay, so you didn’t get it,” she said, waving her hand. “Skip the last question and answer the others. Starting with, who are you people? And how dare you drug me to keep me here?”

Elthea immediately rose and started pacing the room, wringing her hands together and sending darting glances to the freshly attired actor in the corner.

Of course, she was still bound up in a soiled, bulky, uncomfortable costume. If she looked bad before, imagining what she must look like now made Maggie grind her back teeth.

“Well…?”

The woman stopped pacing and grabbed the thickly carved dark wooden footboard. “Lady Margaret… I am your cousin, Countess Elthea. You are here to be joined in marriage to my son, Robert. Lord Amesbury. And this is Nicholas Layton, son of my fondest friend, Lady Anne. I sent for him, and you encountered him after running from the woods. Margaret, what happened in those woods? Now you must try to remember and tell us.”

Maggie saw that Elthea really believed what she was saying and that Nick had believed it before the two women had even met. Something was very, very weird. As it was dark and she wasn’t about to go running off in the woods in a foreign country, Maggie decided that she would answer their questions. Just play along, she thought. Since her reality was vastly different than theirs, and they couldn’t even discuss hers, it was her only course. Play along… until she could escape.

“Okay, you want me to tell you my story?”

“Aye.”

“About what happened in the woods?”

Elthea nodded, and even Nick leaned forward with interest. At any other time she might have laughed at him, but this was way too serious. Even the truth was too bizarre.

“And you won’t interrupt?” She shot that question toward the singer, now trying to appear uninterested.

“Nicholas?” Elthea whispered to him, like a mother chiding a child to respond.

“I will not interrupt Her Ladyship’s recounting of her unfortunate mishap in yonder wood. Does that satisfy Lady Margaret?”

“Your dry wit is not appreciated at this time, Nicholas,” Elthea remarked.

He looked to Elthea and became contrite. “I beg your pardon. I will not interrupt.”

“Thank you,” the woman answered, then smiled encouragingly to Maggie. “Tell us, child. I am listening with my heart.”

“May I have something to drink first? Something without drugs or potions. Just plain ole water will do fine.”

Elthea hurried to a table and brought a large round tray to the bed. Placing it on the fur blanket Maggie had thrown off in her sleep, the woman then poured what looked like water into a heavy silver cup. She handed it to Maggie with the words, “I swear by all I hold sacred, this water is pure, taken from our well. I have added nothing.”

She then removed a cloth and revealed a trencher of bread, soaked in gravy with a slab of meat on top. “Eat, child, and tell us your story.”

Taking her chair and angling it better to see Maggie’s face, Elthea whispered, “We shall listen without interference.”

As incredible as it would sound to anyone if she dared to express her thoughts, Maggie found herself liking this woman, a woman who admitted drugging her! It was crazy. Maybe she could secure not only Elthea’s sympathies but her help in escaping as well? Hmm… she would think on that later. Right then, she had to pull herself together and entertain them. Well, she would tell her story, and it would be the truth.

Let’s see how they handle that, she thought while bringing the cup to her lips.

The truth… It seemed a rare commodity.

Sipping the water, which tasted better than any water she could remember, Maggie deduced it wasn’t drugged. She was so thirsty that she drank three cupfuls before again licking her lips and glancing at Nick.

A surge of feminine power went through her as she saw his stunned reaction to her subtle flirtation. Clearing her throat, she looked at Elthea.

“Well,” she began, “it all started when my aunt sent me a birthday card with a ticket to England. Can you imagine? Me, either, especially since I’d just lost my job, but then I thought… what the hell, you know? I mean, what did I have to lose? A chance to get away from all that and visit with my aunt. You would have done it, right?”

She looked into their stunned faces and laughed. “Okay, no interruptions. Well-done, guys. Where was I? Oh, right… So I’m with my aunt and she says we’re going to a Renaissance Festival, something she and Malcolm, that’s her lover, have done for years and years. Now she not only has this costume for me, this very dress…” And Maggie waved her hand in front of herself, before ripping the snood the rest of the way from her hair. Shaking the length of it free, she glanced at Nick in the candlelight and was pleased to see him inhale deeply.

Brushing her hair back from her face, Maggie smiled at Elthea and continued.

“So you can see why I couldn’t refuse to wear it, right? It is, or was, lovely before the woods incident. Anyway, the night before the faire my aunt also gave me a special strand of pearls that were precious to her. So we go to this faire and everyone is talking just like you guys, only even thicker sometimes… you know, all your thees and thous and exaggerated speech. Like, mammering clapper-clawed maggot-pie. There’s one I remember!”

Elthea’s chin dropped, but, to her credit, she did not interrupt. Nick, on the other hand, brought his fist up to his mouth and attempted to muffle a laugh.

“Anyway, so my aunt and Malcolm want to go through this maze. Are ye prepared to be a-mazed? That’s what the man said at the entrance. Well, I’ve been a-mazed all right! I’ve gone beyond amazement into insanity, for nothing else could explain what happened after I entered. There was this little girl following me all day at the faire. She looked almost angelic and she gave me a rose…”

She spoke, without interruption, for the next twenty minutes. Sometimes, she would judge their reactions and then, seeing how shocked they were, would look out to the room as she related the sequence of events that brought her to this place.

“… and then I was drugged and deposited on this bed and, well, here we are folks. That’s my story, and I’m stickin’ to it.”

Her audience appeared stunned, speechless, and Maggie congratulated herself for giving a great performance. There was too much detail in her story for them to completely disregard it as the ravings of a crazed woman. Neither said anything for several moments. They just continued to stare at her and each other.

At least they didn’t laugh.

Yet.

“Well…?” she asked, reaching to pour herself more water. “Whatcha think?”

“Why, Margaret… your story is… incredible,” Elthea murmured. “I don’t quite know what else to say. What you have related is beyond my comprehension. Your verbiage at moments appears foreign, yet I do believe I have grasped that which you are relating.”

Swallowing the cool water, Maggie smiled. “And that would be?”

Elthea stood and again began pacing, wringing her hands together, as though trying to word her thoughts carefully. “May I ask a few questions, child, before responding to yours?”

“Certainly. I have nothing to hide. Everything I have told you is the truth. My truth.” She glanced at Nick and saw him staring into the fire across the room, as though he were lost in his own thoughts.

“This… this strange occurrence that took place in the maze, you said you were assisted by a child who was surrounded by light?”

“Well, I don’t know whether you can really say I was assisted by her, or not. Guess that depends on the perspective. But, yes. She kept telling me to follow my heart and dropping the rose petals for me to follow. I’m telling you, it was all very odd.”

“And then she led you to light, what you described as light, and the hedges, the maze began to disappear?”

“To fade,” Maggie answered, looking at the roasted meat and wondering if there was any cutlery with this meal. What did they think? She was going to kill herself with a fork?

“You keep saying that we are playing roles, performing in some festival, yet I ask if, since you ran out of the maze and into the woods, you have met anyone who can substantiate your claims?”

Maggie gave up thoughts of food and turned her attention to the woman who was now facing her with a serious expression. “Well, of course not. Everyone I’ve met has been part of this Renaissance Festival, or working with them.”

“You have seen nothing to confirm that you are not in the year fifteen ninety-eight?”

Maggie thought about it, and that scary feeling returned, those thoughts that she kept trying to ignore. “I’m not an authority on that time period, but I have seen nothing modern if that’s what you mean.”

“And by modern you mean something of your own time? The place where you claim you are from?”

“Yes.”

Elthea took a deep breath and glanced once to Nick before answering. “Then I would say to you, child, to consider that you are in the year fifteen ninety-eight.”

It was Maggie’s turn to stare.

“Elthea, with all due respect, that’s simply crazy. People don’t just… I don’t know, time travel… Jump from one time to another. I don’t belong here. I belong with my aunt, in the year 2000, where there are telephones, televisions, computers, cars, trains, planes… forks! Try and remember, indoor heating, stoves, bathrooms. You must know what I’m talking about!”

“The year 2000… ?” The words were spoken with awe by the woman, who looked as though she should be sitting down.

Maggie nodded just as Nick said, “I told you her claims, my lady. Please do not distress yourself now when your voice of reason is most needed.” He rose awkwardly and started to limp forward, using a long staff of twisted wood to assist him. “May I serve you while Lady Margaret rests?”

Her clear hazel eyes became glazed, and the rosy flush left her cheeks as Elthea sank to her chair. Maggie quickly leaned forward and poured more water into the goblet. “Here,” she offered. “Drink something.”

Nick reached the bedside and took the cup from her hand, but not before his expression registered his concern for the older woman. “Calm thinking, m’lady,” he urged Elthea.

The woman suddenly looked up to Nick, and her face appeared tortured. “Nicholas Layton, by all I hold true, this is not my cousin, the Lady Margaret.”

“What?”

The sound of Nick’s voice seemed to bounce off the walls. “Calm thinking, Nick,” Maggie whispered, as the man shot her a look of high impatience.

“I thought over it this afternoon, and now I am convinced. I will grant you, she could pass as Margaret to someone who has not seen her in many years, but I knew my cousin and this woman’s words and voice and mannerisms are too contrasting to be ignored. Lady Margaret is more… retiring, and would never be uttering what we have heard, nor are the eyes the same. It was what I first noticed, but dismissed, when you arrived. Under close scrutiny, the truth is revealed. This is not my cousin.”

“Countess Elthea, what are you saying? Lord Robert is in the great hall now, drinking ale with his men and celebrating his forthcoming marriage! This has to be the Lady Margaret. I brought her here as such!”

“’Tis a mistake I, too, would have continued to entertain, had we not just heard this woman’s story. Nicholas, can you imagine Robert’s reaction if I were to even attempt to explain this to him?” She held out her hand to take his. “Dear friend, the blood between you and him is already bitter. I now fear for your life, and the life of this woman.” She looked at Maggie and smiled sadly. “I regret we have placed you in grave danger, child.”

“Wait a minute,” Maggie called out. “We’ll just tell your son Robert that Nick, here, made a mistake, and then I’ll be on my way, out of everyone’s business… okay?”

“If it were only that simple, child.” The countess sat forward in her chair, intently gazing at Maggie. “I must confess that upon your arrival, I dispatched a messenger to Lord Amesbury and his hunting party. He, and all present, were informed the Lady Margaret had indeed arrived earlier than expected. My actions, and your presence, have set myriad events into motion. For as well, presently there are other guests staying in the manor who are to attend the forthcoming betrothal feast… all of whom have been led to presume that the true Lady Margaret is with us this day. The news of your presence is no small matter.”

Maggie began shaking her head. “But I’m not this Lady Margaret. You’ve gotta tell everybody, so I can get out of here and go back to my home!”

Elthea closed her eyes sadly and drew in a deep breath. “Please indulge me, dear Maggie, for just a while to explain further. This error is woven more deeply than you may comprehend.”

The tone of dread in the woman’s voice was enough to allow Maggie’s permission for the story to continue. “Okay, I’ll listen to your story…” and finished under her breath as she flattened the fur cover on the bed around her, “but I just don’t understand what the big deal is here.”

“Thank you, Margaret, for your attention,” the Countess Elthea nodded. “Now, can you, for just a few moments, think of yourself as being alive at present, in this year 1598, and in this country?”

Her mind really didn’t want to go there, but she conceded to the request. “If it helps, I’ll try,” Maggie said, and lightly closed her eyes.

“Great subterfuge has been taking place for more than forty calendar years, as powers from every land abroad have been attempting to influence our beloved Queen’s throne… for absolute control, one religion and incredible monetary gains.”

“Your Ladyship, is this a subject we should be discussing?”

“We have no choice now,” the older woman answered Nick.

From beneath her lashes, Maggie saw Nicholas becoming antsy in his chair. She drew her attention more deeply to the Countess Elthea. Still, there was an almost vindictive thrill begging her to watch him squirm.

Elthea continued with a more serious inflection. “Our Queen has played an intricate, but winning, game of chess with powers in Rome and the English court, yet England remains vulnerable to many plots against Her Majesty’s will and rule.”

Through her squint, Maggie could see the countess turn away from her and stare into the fire.

“I am deeply saddened to admit, my son is parcel to at least one plot against the Queen’s rule. Robert is, not so secretly, aligning himself with the Spaniards and the Church of Rome, while Nicholas and his camp are on the side supporting the monarchy, and Her Majesty’s restored Church of England.”

Maggie exhaled heavily. Religion and politics were subjects she had always avoided, yet the quiet tone of Elthea’s voice began to mesmerize her.

“My son’s marriage to my cousin would solidify our coffers; in addition, it will greatly improve Robert’s political ambitions and power at court. He wishes to accede his father’s title, Earl of Amesbury, for he cannot simply inherit this title through birth. Such a title is only vested by the Queen, and since the house of Norreys is in great favor with Her Majesty, Robert assumes this alliance with Lady Margaret will secure his title.”

“But I still don’t see what this all has to do with me,” Maggie interrupted with a whisper, her eyes now fully closed.

“Should it be discovered thou art an impostor, ’twould humiliate Robert no end, thereby endangering his interests at court, not to forget mentioning it would intensify his inherent dislike for my dear friend Nicholas. There is no telling what my son would do, but I warn you this… the wrath of Lord Robert of Amesbury is not one even his mother would risk.”

Maggie opened her eyes widely. “You mean, Nick’s head might be on the block?”

Okay, so maybe she accepted the minute possibility she was in an age of chivalry, and she figured that’s how they dealt with people in those days.

“More than his own, I fear. Mine and very possibly yours.” The countess sighed.

“I don’t think so,” Maggie interjected quickly, “not my head, I’m just a visitor in this whole scenario you’re playing out.”

“Thou must have faith in my words, Maggie. I jest not. Revealing your truth would make a mockery of his noble position. His plans would be ruined, and you would be held responsible. Verily, I tell you, this is quite serious,” she ended, finally raising the vessel of water and drinking deeply.

Maggie didn’t know what to say. She watched the woman’s hands tremble slightly as Elthea brought the empty cup down and placed it on the tray.

“You guys are definitely wrapped up in this whole thing, aren’t you?” She looked back and forth between Nick and the countess, who appeared to be lost in their own worry, for neither answered her question.

Suddenly, Nick banged his fist on the bedpost, shaking Maggie and the tray on the mattress. Quickly steadying the decanter, she looked up as he began ranting.

“Heavens above, what have I done? How could something so simple become so difficult? All I had to do was answer thy request, m’lady, and return to my studies. Now I am embroiled in a madness of my own making! I should contact Francis. Surely his mind could resolve this dilemma.”

Maggie could only watch in hypnotic wonder as the two argued between themselves.

“We’re not involving Francis in this. At least not yet. Somehow we have to keep Robert away from this woman. We can’t simply say she isn’t recovered. He would still pay his respects, and after spending moments with her he would know something was afoot. We must delay… somehow.”

Nicholas turned to the bed once more. “Who are you?”

She broke her silent trance. “Maggie Whitaker. I told you.”

“Maggie… ?” Nick looked to Elthea and sighed while shaking his head. “Not even a Margaret. Maggie. Sounds like a serving wench.”

“Hey, watch it, buster!” she retorted, anger starting to replace bewilderment. “My people may have been peasants, but they certainly didn’t kidnap anyone, drug them, and then plan to thwart a coup! You’re on thin ice now, Nickie, so I’d just shut up and let Elthea speak.”

The older woman reached out to take Nick’s hand in a pleading gesture. He groaned his displeasure and walked to the fireplace.

Looking back at Maggie, Elthea said quietly, somberly, “A disservice has been performed today, Mistress Maggie, and for that I and my young gallant extend our sincerest regrets.”

Smiling, Maggie said, “I accept your apology, Elthea. But please, just call me Maggie. Mistress Maggie sounds like a dominatrix, or something.”

“I’m sorry… ?” Elthea appeared confused again.

“Nothing,” Maggie said. “I was just trying to lighten the mood here. I mean, if I could do anything to help, I would, but since this is—”

“You could assist us,” Elthea interrupted, “… for just a few days.”

“Assist you?” Maggie was already regretting her last statement, meant only as a courtesy to this woman, who had finally accepted her story.

Elthea nodded as Nick pulled his gaze from the fire and turned back to them.

“Could you play a role, as you put it earlier?” Elthea asked. “Could you pretend to be Lady Margaret until I determine the whereabouts of my true cousin? The resemblance between you is uncanny, and you appear to be about the same age. It would be most helpful, and I’m sure I could explain the necessity for such extreme measures to my cousin when she arrives.”

“Countess Elthea! I must protest!”

“Restrain your protest, sir!” Elthea’s voice rose an octave, and her expression became unyielding. “What is our alternative? I am speaking about not only your life and the life of this woman, but the lives of those you represent, who may be also endangered by this misfortune.”

She turned her attention back to Maggie. “Will you assist us?”

She hated to be placed in this position since she was starting to really like Elthea and the way she took care of business, but… “Elthea, my aunt must be very worried about me and no doubt has the police looking for me at this moment. I won’t be able to help because I won’t be here. I have to go home to my relative, where everything is normal and safe. I’m sorry I’ll have to leave your relatives to you.”

“Oh, nonsense, mistress! You believe you are safe? Listen to me, you are not in the year 2000. You are right now, in this moment, living and breathing in the year 1598 and surrounded by servants who are instructed to report to Lord Amesbury any suspect behavior. It cannot be said anymore clearly. Either you are mad and able to envision a fantastic future, or… when you ran from the maze you ran into this time, into this year, and into the path of Nicholas. There is only one answer. Not both.”

Maggie could only stare at the woman for a few prolonged moments of tension. Finally, she said, “How can you even believe that for a moment? Time travel is the fantasy. Living in the past is the fantasy. I just want to go home.”

“Child, do you believe in the unexplainable? You must, for what you have related to us is most certainly unexplainable, is it not?”

She would make a great lawyer, Maggie thought while shrugging. “Okay, you’ve got me there. I can’t explain what happened to me.”

“So you honestly, with your heart, believe?”

“Yes. I know what I experienced. I can’t deny that.” Where was Elthea going with this next?

The woman drew up her tunic slightly and sat on the bed, at Maggie’s side. “What I am about to reveal to you must remain in your heart also. It must never be spoken of again, for to do so would endanger not only your life, but the lives of many. Myself, included.”

“M’lady… !” Nick’s voice sounded alarmed.

“Hush, Nicholas. Critical times call for critical measures. None of us counted on this woman appearing or your assumption that she was my cousin. Now the die has been cast, and we shall have to see which way it falls, but we can use our heads and perhaps even gain an advantage while waiting.”

Elthea turned her attention back to Maggie. “May I secure thy word, Maggie Whitaker, never again to speak of what I am about to reveal?”

Maggie found herself nodding. Something inside of her was opening up, wanting to help this woman. “You have my word.”

Elthea nodded. “I, too, believe in the unbelievable.”

Maggie couldn’t help it. She chuckled. “Well, I’m glad we agree on something, I guess.”

“I don’t know how much more you will agree with, though. I also believe that certain people, for whatever reason, or by whatever means, can be reported to be in two places at one time. This I have heard, though I cannot say I have done so myself.”

“Two places?” Maggie asked, seeing Nick shake his head as though regretting Elthea’s words.

“Yes. There have been… scripts, ancient scripts handed down from the wisest of souls and copies were brought to England after the Crusades explaining this miracle. Have you ever heard of the Knights Templar?”

Maggie shook her head. “I don’t think so. I’m not really up on the history of Britain.”

“This would be the history of the holy land, where such things were magical and respected. Here, in this country, the shadow of the Inquisition still hangs over the land and all are most hesitant even to speak of magic… which of course there’s no such thing. What one perceives as magic, is merely God revealing itself. Do you have a concept of God, child?”

“Well, yeah,” Maggie said, very uncomfortable at finding herself neck deep in discussions of religion and politics. “God is…” She chewed the inside of her cheek while wondering how to proceed. What did she really think?

“Exactly,” Elthea said in an excited voice. “God just is.”

“Okay.” Sounded harmless enough to Maggie, and she was glad to be off the hook on that subject.

“How can we possibly try to paint a picture of God? God is the life force inside each human being and each blade of grass. All of creation. So if I use herbs to heal the sick, I might be using God, but there are those that would say such a practice was evil.”

“You mean like a… like a witch? You’re a witch, Elthea? That’s why you drugged me… with a potion!”

The woman laughed and broke the tension. Maggie was glad, because she was beginning to get a little more than scared. This woman and her aunt sounded too much alike. In a show of support, Nicholas came to Elthea’s side and placed his hand tenderly upon the woman’s shoulder.

“Oh, child… how quick-witted you are!” She actually winked at Maggie before becoming serious again. “I am the Countess Elthea, widowed by the Earl of Amesbury, and mother to his son, Lord Robert.

“But I shall tell you of my beloved grandmother, a healer and saint upon this earth, who used herbs to assist many of the sick and dying who came to our family for aid during the dark ages of the plague. Marigolds cured inflamation of the mouth, wounds, and burns. Simple chamomile would relieve coughs and fevers, skin irritations, even liver complaints. These are natural healing elements and ingredients, which alleviated the many pains and suffering that had enveloped our world in her time.”

“That much I think I understand, because I have a friend who is… well, sort of a hobby botanist.” Maggie thought the comment would ensure the countess that she was listening to the history lesson.

“Well, all the physicians and the Church, with their barbaric rituals and rites, could not accomplish more than what my grandmother had. Word of her abilities spread far and wide.” Elthea gestured with hands outward. “Many of the priests took word of her healings to Rome and Pope Paul III himself.”

The countess paused for a moment. “And he had just established the Inquisition three years prior. I was merely a young girl of nine calendars. It was by those, the fearing and feeble-minded, yet all-powerful, my grandmother was accused of heresy. Verily, I tell you, the woman condemned herself when she dared to speak out against the ignorance and cruelty of the Church.”

Maggie watched Elthea shake her head, seeming to surrender to the memories.

“So, this good woman was accused of being a witch, imprisoned for months in chained degradation, tortured unmercifully until she would have confessed to being the devil himself! After her cruel death at the hands of her inquisitors, her lands were seized by the Church, who only killed her to add to its coffers. Our title, tarnished by the accusation and public display of her murder at the stake, was allowed to remain in the family, but all our holdings vanished save for one small manor. This one that I was able to retain by marrying the Earl of Amesbury, a man of… of many talents who agreed with Bloody Mary’s reign of terror for those who opposed the return of Catholicism. Upon Elizabeth’s ascension to the throne, he promptly turned to the Church of England, though he secretly attended mass and forced all in his house to do so with him.”

“Wait a minute. Hold on…” Maggie pleaded. “I’m confused. You’re saying that your grandmother was accused of being a witch and was killed?”

“Yes.”

“And then years later you married to keep this place?”

“Aye, yes.”

“But your husband was playing both sides of the fence? Pretending to be Protestant, when he was really Catholic? He was like… a spy, a double agent?”

“Quick-witted and perceptive. Yes and now my son, through his own foolishness, is following in his father’s footsteps by secretly joining ranks with the likes of Ambassador De Quadra in aiding the Spanish claim to the throne. A Catholic claim.”

“And now you are plotting against your own son?” Maggie was shocked, for she couldn’t see any maliciousness in the woman.

“I am merely the observer. I agree not with my son on many issues, yet I do love him. He is my blood, though it appears the blood of his father runs far deeper than my own. I am not plotting anything, nor was I, until your untimely arrival. Now I must plot a way to get you and Nicholas away from this madness.”

“Do not distress yourself, m’lady,” Nick whispered to Elthea.

“The only way I can see in this moment is to have you play the role of my cousin for a few days. And then, I promise you shall be free of us all. Would you assist me in this most dire of times, Maggie?”

She didn’t know what to say. Her mind was reeling from the information she’d received and from all the crazy thoughts running through her mind. How could any of this hold even a shred of truth? It was beyond incredible. It was too bizarre!

“Countess Elthea, this woman could never hope to impersonate a lady. She is most distressing as she is, let alone a—”

“Hold it right there!” Maggie demanded, while shifting her legs over the side of the bed and rising. She felt dizzy for just a moment, until her body caught up with her anger. Imagine the nerve of this guy. It didn’t matter that he was handsome. He was also a royal jerk! She had faced down network heads, ego-crazed entertainers, and even her depressed ex-husband. She wasn’t about to be called less than a lady by an acting troubadour!

Pushing her hair back off her forehead, Maggie tilted her chin and stared down the man. “I will help you, Elthea,” she stated, while capturing Nick’s resentful glare.

The woman sighed with relief and touched Maggie’s arm in a show of thankfulness.

“Bless your heart, child. I will help you as much as I can. Fill you in on family history and what you will need to know to pass during your meeting with Robert. Nicholas will tutor you in our social graces while you recover tonight and tomorrow. I cannot postpone your meeting longer than that.”

Maggie blinked. What the hell have I walked into? How am I to make an escape after making this promise? And this arrogant ass is going to be my teacher? In social graces? It is absurd.

She set her teeth as she stared him down. Why was she sure this was going to be torture? One he would enjoy?

Closing her eyes for a moment, she patted Elthea’s hand, and whispered, “I do this for you. Not him.”

“I have not asked anything from you, mistress.”

“Children,” Elthea pleaded. “This is a time for unity, not dissension. Both your lives depend on it.”

Sighing, Maggie broke eye contact, and said to Elthea, “I don’t suppose you know what a bathroom is.”

The older women looked up. “You wish to bathe? I shall inform the servants.”

“A bath would be nice, but I’m talking about…well, a place to relieve myself.” She refused to look at Nick.

Elthea jumped up and shooed Nick out of the room saying, “Verily, I should have thought of this. Here, dearest Maggie. The privy.” She closed the door after Nicholas then walked over to another, revealing a small closet that looked like it might be a bathroom.

Maggie timidly peeked in and saw nothing but a carved wooden seat upon a stone shelf with a thin slit of a lead-framed window above it. It was just a primitive outhouse in the wall. A seat, a hole, some rags and a pot of water to wash it all down with. Maggie wondered when the joy part was gonna kick in, and how she was going to get back to sanity and indoor plumbing.

Yeah… she was getting really, really, tired of this joyriding.

“Thank you, Elthea,” Maggie said weakly, and started to enter the small closet.

“Allow me to assist you,” Elthea offered, and began unlacing the back of Maggie’s gown.

When the heavy velvet gown puddled at her feet, Maggie looked into the woman’s eyes, and said, “Elthea, you know one of us is right and the other is delusional. Both of us can’t be right.”

Elthea picked up the gown and folded its bulk over her arm. “Dear child, we have both spoken our truth this eve. You are not in the year 2000. I do not have sufficient knowledge to explain how this has come to be, yet only if I accept your truth… child, you have traveled back in time. Such a miracle does not happen by chance. It is certain, you are here for a great reason.”

Maggie looked into Elthea’s eyes and swore, for an eerie second, she saw the eyes of Aunt Edithe looking back at her. Blinking furiously to clear her vision, Maggie broke eye contact and shuddered.

“Excuse me,” she muttered, gathering up her slip and stepping into the tiny space.

Sanity. Just thinking the word proved too much. Here she was, in some castle, about to pretend to be some Renaissance noblewoman, involved in thwarting some kind of a coup, and annoyingly attracted to a crazy man who insisted he lived four hundred years ago.

Yeah, sanity was just too much at the moment.

She sat with a moan of relief.

Actually, she couldn’t have picked a better place to think about it. Sanity and how she could escape back to it. She would play along until she found a means of securing her freedom. Her world, her life, was out there somewhere. After what she had heard tonight, there was no doubt in her mind it would be up to her to find it.

At the moment, there was a more pressing need.