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Martha ignored him. “What about when she pulled out the gown you’re wearing now?”

“She asked me if I liked it, and when I told her I did, she insisted that I try it on.”

“Because it was the right one,” Martha said.

“The right one,” Miss Crawford echoed, a flash of something that looked remarkably akin to awareness entering her blue eyes.

His frustration mounting, Simon ran his fingers through his hair. “Martha, either I am more dense than I had previously believed, or you have already adopted Miss Crawford’s unusual manner of expression. I cannot speak for Maidstone, but personally, I am struggling to follow your logic.”

Martha gave a resigned sigh. “I do not know who this Mrs. McQuivey is, but she quite obviously has a greater understanding of the changing room with the green door’s peculiar power than she shared with Miss Crawford. I would be willing to wager that she has implemented its magical abilities before. Given what Miss Crawford has told us about her experience, I would also suggest that Mrs. McQuivey has a special ability to discern when someone is needed elsewhere. The exact location and time period may not come to her directly—as Miss Crawford has just illustrated—but it does eventually come. And when that happens, she sends the person off to do what they are called upon to do, wearing the appropriate clothing.”

When Martha paused, the ensuing silence was an echo of the earlier one, but this time, all eyes in the room were upon his sister.

“You . . . you think I was meant to come here?” Miss Crawford asked.

“It stands to reason, does it not?” Martha said.

As far as Simon was concerned, absolutely nothing that involved Miss Crawford and her appearance at Copfield Hall could be classified as reasonable.

“Your insight has some merit, Martha,” Maidstone said. “But if what you believe is true, it would have been helpful if Mrs. McQuivey had given Miss Crawford some information about what was ahead.”

“Yes, it would.” Miss Crawford shook her head helplessly. “Mrs. McQuivey made some comment about courage and fortitude rising when we are most uncomfortable. Maybe that was her way of warning me that I was about to be in over my head.”

With a concerned expression, Martha reached over and set a hand on Miss Crawford’s. “Are you horribly uncomfortable here?”

“Yes. No.” She attempted a smile. “I’m sorry. You’ve all been marvelous. Kinder than I deserve. It’s just that I have no idea how to live in your world.”

“We can help you,” Martha said firmly. “Until you have ascertained what you were sent here to do, you must stay at Copfield Hall. Hugh, Simon, and I can be your tutors.”

Simon stiffened. He had no jurisdiction over whom Martha invited to stay at her home or how she wished to employ her time, but he did take exception to being volunteered for a task he did not agree to. Teaching Miss Crawford the niceties of seventeenth-century polite society fell firmly into that category. “I may not be here long enough to participate in Miss Crawford’s schooling, Martha,” he said.

“Then, we shall simply be glad of the time we do have you,” Martha said.

Miss Crawford’s cheeks had pinked. “There’s no need for you to do anything.” She stood. “Really. I’ve imposed on you all long enough already.”

Martha glared at him and then rose to stand beside Miss Crawford. She tucked her arm beneath Miss Crawford’s. “At the risk of sounding selfish, I am not yet ready to share you with anyone else. There’s too much I wish to learn from you.” She paused. “You see, this arrangement will work splendidly. You may ask me questions, and I shall do the same to you.”

“Is there anything in particular that you are struggling with, Miss Crawford?” Maidstone asked.

Simon set his jaw. Blast it all. Even Maidstone was siding with Martha. Had the man truly accepted Martha’s convoluted reasoning? Did the fellow not see what a quagmire he was stepping into? Even if the unthinkable had happened and Miss Crawford had come from the future for a particular reason, who knew how long it would be before she determined what she must do or where she must go? And in the meantime, how was her unexpected presence and background to be explained to their acquaintances? In a society fraught with distrust, spies, and treachery, the mysterious Miss Crawford could trigger all manner of unwanted attention.

“Yes, is there?” Martha’s smile was warm. “What should we begin with?”

Simon stifled a sigh. It seemed that his sister and her husband were willing to take that risk. Miss Crawford had quickly won over Maidstone and Martha, not to mention Will and Sam, but Simon refused to be so easily swayed. He had opened his heart to a young lady once before only to have her cast him aside when he was no longer needed. The experience had taught him that it was safer to maintain barriers, no matter how intriguing or needy a young lady appeared to be. Especially when, according to her claims, she could quite literally disappear at any moment.

“I feel so stupid,” Miss Crawford said. She appeared close to tears. “You’re so kind. But honestly, I know almost nothing about how to function in your world. I don’t know how to light a fire, write with a quill, address nobility, ride a horse—”

“I beg your pardon.” Simon took a stunned step away from the fireplace. He knew full well that he should not have interrupted the lady, but the words had escaped him before he could call them back. “Did you say that you cannot ride a horse?”

“Well, I rode a pony once. On the beach. But I was only eight years old, and the old man who owned the ponies had them on a rope.” She looked at him hesitantly. “Does that count?”

“No, it most certainly does not.”

“Well,” Martha said as though that settled everything. “I would suggest that you spend a good portion of this day with me and Maggie. Between the two of us, we can teach you a great deal about Jacobean households. Hugh can be available for any questions we cannot answer. Then first thing tomorrow, you could join Simon when he visits Will and Sam outside the stables.” She shot Simon a challenging look. “If he is of a mind to assist you, Simon would be the best person to introduce you to riding.”

Martha had pinned him into a corner. He should have been irritated, but somewhat surprisingly, that was not the emotion that rose to the fore. “Very well.” He offered his sister a capitulating nod and allowed the unexpected surge of anticipation to swell. “I shall ask Ezra to have Belle saddled when he readies the ponies for the boys.”

“Is . . . is Belle a big horse?” Miss Crawford asked.