The Elsingham Portrait - By Elizabeth Chater Page 0,19

Anders tells me that my arm is knitting nicely. I was a little apprehensive, since your doctors haven’t discovered antibiotics yet, but Dr. Anders seems both kind and competent in the medical knowledge of this century.”

Even Bennet looked startled. This was carrying the war into the enemy camp with a vengeance. Kathryn felt a stir of pure pleasure at the dangerous game she had decided to play. Be yourself, Bennet had advised. Well, Kathryn Hendrix of the twentieth century would do it!

The big man was frowning slightly. “Anti—what was that, milady?”

“Antibiotics. Chemical substances which inhibit the growth of bacteria. Or have your doctors discovered the existence of bacteria yet? I can’t recall. After all, I was a history minor at my college, not a pre-med student.”

Avoiding Bennet’s cautioning glance, Kathryn looked instead at Lord John’s friends with as keen a scrutiny as they were directing at her. The slighter youth had dropped his jaw in a reflex of astonishment. The bigger man had his lazy eyes fully open now, and they were puzzled rather than hard. Kathryn decided rashly to pursue the attack before they could recover and regroup. She’d show these arrogant Englishmen!

“I’m told you are the two best friends Lord John has, so I would like to be civil to you. I don’t know which of you is which. Would you be gracious enough to introduce yourselves? I am Kathryn Hendrix of New York, very unwilling to be here in this rather fulsome body, and disturbed by the situation Lady Nadine seems to have gotten herself into. Since,” she concluded with a wry smile, “I seem to have inherited the unpleasant results of it.”

Lord Peter saluted her with a smile of reluctant admiration. “No quarter, ma’am? You are determined to maintain your position, however—untenable?”

“As I have just told Bennet, my course must be full speed ahead, and damn the torpedoes! Which is a quotation from one of our American admirals in a civil war fought between the Northern and Southern United States starting in 1861.”

“I salute your courage, ma’am, but beg to offer you a warning,” replied Lord Peter quietly. “The story you are telling is incredible. Have you carefully considered the consequences of persisting in such—”

“Such a preposterous lie!” interrupted Randall hotly. “I’ll give you the truth with the bark on it, madam. Whatever devious game you’re playing, you can’t win. No one can win. The kindest judgment will be that you are mad—the worst, that you are dabbling in witchcraft!”

Kathryn stared at the flushed, angry face of the young man. “If the cry of witchcraft is raised, I would have you consider that I have been the victim of it, not the instigator. I am snatched from my own time and place and brought to this—” she glanced at Peter and checked what she was going to say, substituting, “this very inhospitable situation, locked into the body of a woman for whom no one can have anything but contempt. You are Lord John’s friends. What would you advise me to do?”

“Have done with playacting and go back to Ireland,” snapped Randall. “You’re nothing but trouble here.”

Kathryn turned to Lord Peter with a faint smile. “And you, my lord? Do you subscribe to this severe judgment?”

“Severe, madam?” Randall interjected. “¼Tis the soul of leniency! After what you’ve done to Johnny—”

“What I’ve done—!” began Kathryn in protest, then, facing Randall’s scornful expression, she sighed and turned to his companion.

“There are reasons why it would be very hazardous—perhaps disastrous—for me to leave London at this moment,” she began, aware of the hardening of suspicion on Lord Peter’s face. “I need to remain as close as possible to the place through which I entered your world—”

“Faugh!” interrupted Randall. “More of your mystical nonsense! I don’t know why we listen to you!”

“You actually haven’t, have you? Not really.” She sighed. “I was taught to be properly appreciative of gifts. And so, Lord Peter or Mr. Towne, whichever you are,” she smiled wanly at the big, serious Lord Peter, “thank you very much for the beautiful flowers. And to you,” she turned to the angry Randall, “my thanks for your honesty. I understand my position more clearly now. Good day.”

It was dismissal. The gentlemen made their bows and got out of the room with what grace they could muster. Randall was fuming.

“Trickster! Liar! Cheat!” he muttered, as they went down the great stairway. “When I think of Johnny tied to that Irish termagant—!”

When his friend did not respond at once, Randy eyed