move forward.
Reasoning she wanted to arrive at the oak early to don her costume and see that all was as she wished it, she put on her dress of holly leaves, covering it from prying eyes with her heavy wool cloak. She drew on her gloves and raised the cloak’s ample hood over her head to hide her face. Picking up her bag stuffed with her hat and plaid, she left the house.
She worked in the barn every night after dark but she’d never left the property. It was a brave thing she was doing, going out on her own into the night, and an exciting one. She still wore her spectacles although she fully intended to remove them once she reached the Great Oak. If she kept them on, the Chattan might discover her identity if he asked questions. Not that many women wore spectacles in the valley.
The ground was wet and spongy beneath her feet as she left the path and walked into the woods. Clouds covered the sky, but the full moon peeped out every once in a while to guide her way. All was eerily quiet. A fog drifted across the ground and the trees took on sinister shapes.
Portia refused to let herself think nonsense about ghosts and spirits and dangers, although her pulse was racing madly. What she was doing was a gamble, but didn’t they say fortune favored the bold? And she truly had no other choice. She needed money.
She was almost to the end of Camber Hall’s property when she noticed a white object hovering on a tree stump. The object moved, jumping into the brush.
Portia gave a start, her hand going to her throat, but a small meow told her how silly she was being.
“Owl, you gave me a terrible fright.”
The wee cat answered with another of her light, complacent meows.
Portia forged on. Owl followed at a distance, disappearing into the brush from time to time. In truth, she welcomed the cat’s comforting presence.
After a half hour of hard walking, Portia reached the Great Oak, which was a landmark in this section of the woods. Since the oak was on the way to Crazy Lizzy’s house, Portia knew it well. The tree was set off the path and stood by itself, tall and majestic.
However, tonight, as she entered the clearing surrounding it, she received a surprise. The clouds had opened around the moon, painting the area a silvery light and highlighting the toadstool ring around the tree.
“Toadstool rings are not evil,” Portia whispered to herself. Still, its presence brought out a superstitious uneasiness Portia did not know she had.
A toadstool ring was witchy.
Yes, they could be found all over, but not this time of year.
The chant in Fenella’s book came to Portia’s mind and she found herself repeatedly murmuring, “Queen of the Meadow, take this evil from this house,” as she approached the Great Oak.
The tree was barren of leaves and its trunk was so wide around that it would take the arms of two men to encircle it. Therefore the toadstool ring was enormous.
Portia stepped inside the ring and put her bag on the ground. She raised a hand to lower the hood of her cloak so she could put on her hat, when a deep male English voice behind her said, “Hello, Fenella.”
Portia froze. She dared not breathe, let alone move. She was not prepared. She still wore her spectacles, but at least her cloak covered her head. And there was no time to make presentation of the dress she’d labored over all day.
“ It’s not midnight ,” she said, blurting the first words that came to her mind, and then chastised herself because she hadn’t used any of the special voices she’d practiced.
“I wouldn’t be a good soldier if I did what was expected, would I?”
She pulled the hood of her cloak lower over her face to hide her spectacles and slowly turned.
He was a dark shadow against the forest. The shadow moved and changed into a tall, broad-shouldered man in greatcoat and boots.
The time had come. She could not show fear or allow herself to feel it. She had come this far to play a part, and so she would.
Portia
Reasoning she wanted to arrive at the oak early to don her costume and see that all was as she wished it, she put on her dress of holly leaves, covering it from prying eyes with her heavy wool cloak. She drew on her gloves and raised the cloak’s ample hood over her head to hide her face. Picking up her bag stuffed with her hat and plaid, she left the house.
She worked in the barn every night after dark but she’d never left the property. It was a brave thing she was doing, going out on her own into the night, and an exciting one. She still wore her spectacles although she fully intended to remove them once she reached the Great Oak. If she kept them on, the Chattan might discover her identity if he asked questions. Not that many women wore spectacles in the valley.
The ground was wet and spongy beneath her feet as she left the path and walked into the woods. Clouds covered the sky, but the full moon peeped out every once in a while to guide her way. All was eerily quiet. A fog drifted across the ground and the trees took on sinister shapes.
Portia refused to let herself think nonsense about ghosts and spirits and dangers, although her pulse was racing madly. What she was doing was a gamble, but didn’t they say fortune favored the bold? And she truly had no other choice. She needed money.
She was almost to the end of Camber Hall’s property when she noticed a white object hovering on a tree stump. The object moved, jumping into the brush.
Portia gave a start, her hand going to her throat, but a small meow told her how silly she was being.
“Owl, you gave me a terrible fright.”
The wee cat answered with another of her light, complacent meows.
Portia forged on. Owl followed at a distance, disappearing into the brush from time to time. In truth, she welcomed the cat’s comforting presence.
After a half hour of hard walking, Portia reached the Great Oak, which was a landmark in this section of the woods. Since the oak was on the way to Crazy Lizzy’s house, Portia knew it well. The tree was set off the path and stood by itself, tall and majestic.
However, tonight, as she entered the clearing surrounding it, she received a surprise. The clouds had opened around the moon, painting the area a silvery light and highlighting the toadstool ring around the tree.
“Toadstool rings are not evil,” Portia whispered to herself. Still, its presence brought out a superstitious uneasiness Portia did not know she had.
A toadstool ring was witchy.
Yes, they could be found all over, but not this time of year.
The chant in Fenella’s book came to Portia’s mind and she found herself repeatedly murmuring, “Queen of the Meadow, take this evil from this house,” as she approached the Great Oak.
The tree was barren of leaves and its trunk was so wide around that it would take the arms of two men to encircle it. Therefore the toadstool ring was enormous.
Portia stepped inside the ring and put her bag on the ground. She raised a hand to lower the hood of her cloak so she could put on her hat, when a deep male English voice behind her said, “Hello, Fenella.”
Portia froze. She dared not breathe, let alone move. She was not prepared. She still wore her spectacles, but at least her cloak covered her head. And there was no time to make presentation of the dress she’d labored over all day.
“ It’s not midnight ,” she said, blurting the first words that came to her mind, and then chastised herself because she hadn’t used any of the special voices she’d practiced.
“I wouldn’t be a good soldier if I did what was expected, would I?”
She pulled the hood of her cloak lower over her face to hide her spectacles and slowly turned.
He was a dark shadow against the forest. The shadow moved and changed into a tall, broad-shouldered man in greatcoat and boots.
The time had come. She could not show fear or allow herself to feel it. She had come this far to play a part, and so she would.
Portia
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