A young man with an earnest expression was standing before her. He shoved a pamphlet in her face.
“It’s all explained in here.”
Charlie took it. “I don’t think—”
“Dinna listen to him!” said another voice, and Charlie looked around to see a young woman approaching. She glared at the young man before turning her attention to Charlie. “Duncan doesnae have a mind of his own and is only spouting what his aristocratic masters tell him! Ofcoursethey dinna want the articles to go ahead—they want to keep this country in chains because it benefits them! The union will save Scotland and drag us into the modern era!” She spoke with all the fervor of a true believer—although what she believed in, Charlie had no idea.
“Here,” the young woman said, thrusting another pamphlet at Charlie. “Everything ye need to know is in here. Once ye’ve read it, I’m sure ye’ll support us. If ye have any questions, ye can find me over there.” She hiked a thumb over her shoulder at the group gathered on the right-hand side of the lawn.
“And if ye agree withus, ye’ll find us over there,” added the young man, nodding at the other group.
“Look, I just want to sit quietly, okay?”
“See?” the young woman said to the young man. “I told ye ye shouldnae have bothered her! Come on!” She took the young man’s arm and dragged him away.
Charlie breathed out slowly. She dropped her gaze to the pamphlets in her hands. The one from the young woman had the title:The Seven Ill Years are over: a new dawn for Scotland! Support the Articles of Union!
The young man’s pamphlet read,No slavery to the English! Support the House of Stewart! Support a free Scotland!
Charlie screwed up her face, wondering exactly what she was looking at. Articles of Union? The House of Stewart? What the hell?
Her eyes drifted to the top corner of one of the pamphlets where a date was printed. Her heart stopped.
May 16th, 1699.
Charlie went cold all over. Quickly, she looked at the other pamphlet. This, too, bore a date printed in the corner.
May 16th, 1699.
Charlie stared. No. That couldnotbe real This was some sort of joke, right?
Her eyes widened as she looked around the gardens, at the clothing of the two groups gathered on the lawn, at the lack of modern amenities, at the screen of her phone that would not catch a signal.
It all pointed to the same conclusion. A conclusion that sent her heart racing and panic swirling through her like acid.
No, she told herself.No way. Absolutely no way. This is all a mistake. It has to be.
She stood abruptly, her hands trembling as she shoved the pamphlets into her coat pockets. A figure appeared in her periphery. A man, tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in the same period clothing as everyone else. He walked with a purposeful stride and halted right in front of her. He had a shaved head, a tangled beard, and hands that looked like they could crush rocks.
“My mistress wishes to speak to ye, miss,” he said.
She took a step back. “I beg your pardon?”
“I said, my mistress, Lady Murray, wishes to speak with ye.” His accent was thick and his words were heavy with an unmistakable Scottish brogue.
“I’m sorry, but I think there’s been some mistake,” Charlie said, taking another step back.
“No mistake, lass,” he growled. “Ye are to come with me.”
He grabbed her arm.
“Let go of me!” Charlie bellowed, struggling in his grip.
“Dinna make a scene, woman,” the man said. “It wouldnae be seemly.”
Charlie didn’t give two shits what was seemly. With a cry, she kicked him between the legs. The man grunted and doubled over, releasing her arm.
Charlie turned on her heels and fled, sprinting for all she was worth, towards the garden entrance. But just as she dashed out of the gates, she crashed into something solid. Or rather, someonesolid. Arms flailed and Charlie found herself sprawled on the ground.
