Page 56 of Pure Magic
Before he can say more, a boy of no more than ten runs in. “Papa, Miss Pinkerton is here, and she wants to see them.”
Bule’s smile falters, and his eyes grow wide. “I didn’t realize.” He smooths his hand over his balding head then fiddles with his towel. “Do you wish to meet with her here or in the common room?”
Sara Beth looks at me. The high priestess, I’m guessing.
I’d hoped for a full belly before this introduction, but it’s not to be. “We’ll come down. We wouldn’t wish to put Miss Pinkerton to any trouble.”
As it’s in between lunch and dinner hour, the common room isn’t crowded, and if my calculations are correct, it’s Tuesday. Two men are having ale at a long bar, and a tall woman is setting a table for two.
As soon as we reach the bottom of the steps, the boy who first saw us arrive points from just inside the door. “There. That’s who I saw.”
“Thank you, Isaac. Go take care of your chicken. I’ll be fine here.” Miss Pinkerton is strikingly beautiful with black hair pulled back in a tight bun and brown skin. Her features are such that she might be carved from stone for masses to witness her beauty. Straight nose, bright teeth, full lips and high cheekbones. When she meets my gaze, her light-brown eyes are dazzling.
She crosses the common room and stops a few feet in front of us. “Forgive the intrusion, Wyatt. I heard you had new guests, and I admit I’m curious.”
“Not at all, Laura. You know you’re always welcome here. May I introduce Mr. And Mrs. Drummond. Sir, madam, this is Laura Pinkerton.” As soon as he bows to all parties, Mr. Bule scurries away to help with setting the table.
Sara Beth gives a short nod to Laura. “We would have made our arrival known, Miss Pinkerton. Though we’d hoped to fill our stomachs and have time to rest before an introduction.”
A genuine smile lights Laura’s marvelous eyes. “I’m glad to hear that you have good manners, Mrs. Drummond. Have you been traveling long?”
“Some time,” Sara Beth says. “We travel in the light, as I see you do. We mean no harm in Birchover. We are only stopping on our way.”
“On your way where, if I might ask?” Laura leans on the newel post.
“I’m afraid that not even I know. We travel at the will of Goddess.” The truth of it almost makes me laugh. I could actually cry with equal verve.
“Interesting. Does Goddess often send you on quests, madam?”
“Thankfully, not often. We have an object we must retrieve, and then we’ll be on our way. I admit I’d hoped to stay a day or two to sleep.”
I’m constantly amazed at the way Sara Beth can be truthful without telling anything.
Laura Pinkerton is not as impressed. She frowns and stands up straight. Holding out her hand, she asks, “May I have your hand, Mrs. Drummond?”
With only a moment’s hesitation, Sara Beth places her hand in Laura’s.
Closing her eyes, Laura breathes deep, and as she lets the breath out, she smiles. “You are welcome here in Derbyshire. I don’t know what you seek, but I’ll help you if I can.”
“Don’t you want to touch my hand, Mrs. Pinkerton?” I ask.
Her laugh is warm and deep. She gestures to Sara Beth. “If you were not in the light, this woman would not be with you. Her heart is pure, with a glow that shines white.”
“You read auras,” Sara Beth says.
Laura stares a moment before pulling her cape around her shoulders. “We can discuss the gifts of Goddess when you both come to dinner tomorrow night. It will be informal, with just my sister, nephew, and the three of us.” She inclines her head to Isaac when she speaks of her nephew. He didn’t leave as instructed, but stands just outside the doorway, peering in.
“We will be delighted.” Sara Beth bows.
“I’ll send Isaac to direct you.” She wraps an arm around Isaac’s shoulder. In a lower voice, she says, “Perhaps you’ll be inclined to tell me your real names when the setting is more private.”
I like this witch. She’s direct without being rude and cunning without scheming. “Perhaps,” I say.
Her expression remains pleasant as she bids us good day, then calls out to Mr. Bule and his wife where they’re still fussing with the table.
Once Laura is gone, Mr. Bule hurries over. “You have fine friends. Miss Pinkerton has saved this town from…” He frowns and fusses with his towel, as if he said more than he meant to. “Well, we’re all grateful to her for her kindness.”
Sara Beth takes pity on his blunder, whatever it was. “The stew smells wonderful, Mr. Bule. May we sit?”
