Chapter 2 – Isabella's Arrival

Maribella's POV

Saturday, 13 September 1920

Fourteen. I turned fourteen early this morning. What a day it has been and I have just gotten out of bed. I shivered. The stone floor was ice beneath my bare feet. My maid hadn't stoked the fire yet. Ah, the life of a laird's daughter. I wasn't some spoiled and pampered brat who couldn't do things for herself. There had to be an explanation why she had yet to enter my chambers.

As I walked to the fireplace, a strange feeling washed over me. Something wonderful was going to happen. A visitor was coming. My vision blurred and two symbols danced before my eyes—a triquetra and a pentagram with a wand. I was unsure of the meaning. Sighing, I poked at the coals for a moment or two before adding a single log.

That should suffice until my maid arrives, I thought.

Soon the door creaked and opened. "Sorry, my lady," she said in greeting. "My son is sick."

"Quite alright, Mary," I replied her as she set my breakfast tray down and started fussing about the room as I ate the hot porridge.

"My lady, something does not seem right," she stated.

With the spoon dripping over the empty bowl, my gaze moved to where she stood in front of the wardrobe.

"The air in this room seems charged"—she lowered her voice to a whisper—"with a magical quality."

"I have felt it, too. The green gown," I replied, selecting one of the dresses she held up to me. Settling the spoon in the bowl, I stood and walked over to the window, gazing out. "A hunt, Mary?"

"Aye, my lady, in your honor."

I shook my head. "And I suppose I am meant to go," I commented, turning away from the gathering men and women. My gaze fell on the gown where it laid on the bed. I supposed it would do for a hunt. "Fox or deer?"

"Not quite sure, my lady, but does it matter."

A sigh left me. "I guess not. Do you know whom I'm to ride with?" I asked.

She looked thoughtfully at the window before answering. "I believe it is to be Iain, my lady, but it could be Ewan."

If Father was being generous, he would allow Ewan the honor. "Let us pray it is Ewan. He's the more entertaining of the two brothers."

"Where am I?" a voice came from behind us.

Mary and I turned slowly to find an enchanting girl. She was pale with shining brown eyes and mousy brown hair. A leather travel bag was in her hands.

"McGregor Castle," Mary replied calmly as I took her in.

She was wearing peculiar leggings of a bluish-whitish hue. Her bodice was even odd. It was blue with little crystals shimmering all over it. Weirder yet, her shoulders were somewhat bare, but her arms were covered to her wrists.
"Where did you come from?" Mary asked, glancing at the door.

"I'm not sure," she replied. "I was lost and two men, or were they boys, found me." She was silent for a moment before speaking again as she looked around. "What year is it?"

What year is it? I thought. Indeed, her clothes were like nothing I had seen before. I felt as if Mary was going to answer and I placed a restraining hand on her shoulder.

"What year do you believe it is?" I asked, sensing strange and yet not so strange magic in her.

"Well, in a phrase, I'm definitely not in Kansas anymore," she said with a hesitant laugh.

The stranger was still taking in her surroundings. Finally, she looked back at me.

My face was scrunched up. I had no idea what she said, let alone her meaning.

"What I mean is I'm not where I was moments ago"—she motioned to the room—"and this is clearly not my bedroom."

I shared a looked with Mary before I sat and motioned for this strange visitor to join me. "Where were you before you found you were lost?" I asked.

"In the borderlands of Scotland. More specifically I was at the home of the Gillpatrick clan with my grandfather. Why are you not answering my question?" she asked. "What year is it?"

"Before I answer, let me ask you this. Do you believe that there exists, in the fabric of time, a way to transport one's self backward?"

The stranger sat. "You mean time travel."

"In a way," I remarked, taking in what she was wearing again.

"If it was possible, and I'm not saying it is. One must be careful not to affect the events of where they find themselves or they could alter the future."

Good, I thought. Now for the point of my question, and I would have to phrase it precisely.

"And if one was meant to be exactly where they find themselves..." I let that hang in the air unfinished.

"Magic," she whispered.

Smiling, I nodded.

"It worked," she whispered.

I shared a look with Mary, not commenting on what the stranger said.

"What is your name?" Mary asked, moving to the window.

"Isabella," she replied in a manner that spoke volumes.

Mary turned and looked directly at me. I had spoken with her about my dreams, my visions.

"How old are you?" I asked.

"Fourteen."

"And you come from another time."

She nodded. "How from back in time did I come?"

"You tell me. Today is the thirteenth of September in the year of our Lord 1920."

"My birthday," she replied, bowing her head into her hands. "It's three hundred and eight years away from today."

I got up and pulled Mary along behind me until we were on the other side of the room. "She looks to be about my side. Help her into one of my gowns. She will be going on the hunt," I whispered.

"Of course, my lady."

"What is your name?" Isabella asked when I rejoined her.

She swallowed and bit her lip. If I didn't know better, she already knew who I was.

"Maribella," I replied. "How is your Gaelic?"

"Have I not been speaking it up to this point?" At my stern look, she added, "Second nature."

"Can you speak properly? Lady McGregor," I started, pointing at myself only to be interrupted.

"Certainly, Lady McGregor," Isabella said.

"Your surname?" I asked.

She thought for a moment. "It might be best if I was not addressed by my true surname. It may raise a question or two," she added as an afterthought. "Let us use Swan."

"Your true surname?" Mary asked.

Isabella studied me and Mary for a long moment. When I was sure she wasn't going to reply, she squared her shoulders and said, "McCullough, more precisely, The McCullough."

"You are a future Laird," I said in a low but altogether shocked voice.

"Yes," Isabella answered.

"A female laird, that would truly be a glorious day," Mary stated, turning to my wardrobe.

"It is the way of the McCullough clan. Grandmother to granddaughter," Isabella replied.

Interesting, I thought. There must be some future event that changes the line of succession.

Mary presented her with a blue, gold, and silver gown.

"The McCullough colors," she said, running a hand gently over the silken material. "It is very beautiful, but it would speak too much."

Mary turned to select another.

"Nonsense," I replied. "I dislike the gown. It doesn't fit right. I do love the colors and wish I could wear the gown myself. Please wear it."

"There is to be a hunt today," she said, realization lighting her eyes. "Is that why you wish me to wear it?"

"There is," I said, walking to the door. "Please wear the gown." I opened it and walked out the door.

I was waiting to be lifted before Iain when Isabella walked out of the castle with Mary on her heels with a cape and gloves in her hands.

"Lady Swan," Mary said, causing Isabella to stop.

"Lady Swan?" Iain and Ewan said at the same time.

"Lovely," Iain continued. "A pure beauty."

"You should ask her to ride with you," Ewan said, elbowing his brother.

I smiled demurely at the pair, hoping the teasing wouldn't come to blows.

"I think I will," Iain said.

"Think you will what?" my father asked from behind me.

"Ask Lady Swan to ride with me," Iain replied.

"Who is Lady Swan?" My uncle, Laird McCullough asked, joining us.

Ewan motioned to Isabella.

Uncle turned to me. "Why is she wearing the McCullough colors?"

Father turned and searched those gathered.

"Uncle, may I speak with a moment, away from the others?" I asked.

He nodded, offering me his arm.

"Maribella, what do you know?" he asked once we were far enough away.

"She is from the future, Uncle. A future in which involves your clan. She is the future laird of it."

"Are you certain, lass?" he said, gazing down at me.

"Aye, Uncle, don't let her ride with none but you. Magic is afoot and I don't know how events will play out," I remarked, glancing over my shoulder a moment. "She is very powerful."

Uncle released my arm. Squatting down, he plucked up some thistle and placed them in his sporran. He lifted his head, looking into the woods. "How powerful?" he asked.

Placing my right hand on his shoulder, I sighed. "I'm not sure and didn't ask." I sighed once more. "When we return from the hunt, I will mix up a forgetting potion for the clan. I will also write a spell to send her back to her time."

"You will need Ewan's help, lass, and you know how your father feels about him," Uncle said.

"True, but love will prevail. I will one day marry Ewan, just as I said I pledged years ago."

Uncle stood, turning to face me. He took hold of me by the shoulders, looking me in the eyes. "Be careful what you say and to who, lass. It would do you no good if your father or the mages find out about your troth to Ewan."

My eyes closed, and I nodded as a tear slid down my cheek. "Iain said he would help us when the time comes, you know this," I remarked.

"Aye, still care is needed." He wiped the tear away before stepping back. "Do you think she is part of the bigger picture?"

"I have only spoken with her once, but aye, she has to be. I will speak to her again after the hunt."

"Her name?" Uncle inquired.

"Isabella," I replied.

"And who is she to me?" he asked.

I thought a moment. "Another niece, from your deceased brother, and you have just found out about her."

Uncle rubbed his chin, looking over at the hunting party. "Will she go along with that story?"

"I haven't told her the story she is to tell."

His lips took on a hard line as he gazed back at those gathered once again. "We best rejoin the others."

Once we returned, my father clapped Uncle on the back. "Why didn't you tell me you recently found a long-lost niece?"

I looked at Isabella and smiled. She was clever and I'm not sure if she knew whom she was claiming as an uncle.

"Laird McGregor, I asked him not to say anything until I was sure I was going to stay," she said.

"Well, my dear, would you do me the honor of riding with me?"

"I am afraid, McGregor, she has already blessed me the promise. Perhaps next hunt," Uncle said.

"McCullough, you usurp me," Father said with a laugh, slapping Uncle on the shoulder. "Mount up!"

I chanced a glance at Isabella and her expression showed no shock when a stable lad lifted her off the ground and set her before Uncle McCullough.