Kate called through the door. “Mr. Douglas is here to see you.” I sat up, groggy and disoriented. My eyes burned, and I was conscious of a weariness more profound than anything I’d experienced before. I rubbed my cheek, and my fingers came away wet. The ache in my heart wasn’t imaginary. I felt a deep, soul-consuming loss for Isobel Maxwell. For me, the events leading to her death happened just moments ago, not five hundred years in the past. Kate’s knock was more persistent. “Tell Ian I’ll be down in a minute,” I said. There was silence and then the sound of her footsteps as she walked down the hall. Fortified by a hairbrush and a splash of cold water, I followed her down the stairs. Ian stood when I entered the sitting room. He studied my face, and his eyes narrowed. I saw no point in postponing the inevitable. “I’m sorry I missed our appointment, but I had some shocking news.” “At the post office?” he asked dryly. I blushed. “No. At the doctor’s office.”
