“And that’s okay? Timewalking is a serious business, Diana. Even for a brief visit, you need a plan— one that includes leaving everything behind as you found it.”
I shifted in my seat. “We weren’t supposed to be here this long. One thing led to another, and now—”
“Now you’re going to leave a mess here. You’ll probably find one when you get home, too.” My father looked at us somberly.
“I get it, Dad. We screwed up.”
“You did,” he said gently. “You two might want to think about that while I go to the Cardinal’s Hat. Someone named Gallowglass introduced himself in the courtyard. He says he’s Matthew’s relative and promised to help me meet Shakespeare, since my own daughter refused.” My father gave me a peck on the cheek. There was disappointment in it, as well as forgiveness. “Don’t wait up for me.”
Matthew and I sat in silence. I took a shaky breath.
“Did we screw up, Matthew?” I reviewed the past months: meeting Philippe, breaking through Matthew’s defenses, getting to know Goody Alsop and the other witches, finding out I was a weaver, befriending Mary and the ladies of Malá Strana, taking Jack and Annie into our home and our hearts, recovering Ashmole 782, and, yes, conceiving a child. My hand dropped to my belly in a protective gesture. There wasn’t a single thing I would change, if given the choice.
“It’s hard to know, mon coeur,” Matthew said somberly. “Time will tell.”
“I thought we could go see Goody Alsop. She’s helping me with my spell to return to the future.” I stood before my father, my spell box clutched in my hands. I was still uneasy around him after the lecture he’d given Matthew and me yesterday.
“It’s about time,” my father said, reaching for his jacket. He still wore it like a modern man, taking it off the minute he was indoors and rolling up his shirtsleeves. “I didn’t think any of my hints were getting through to you. I can’t wait to meet an expereinced weaver. And are you finally going to show me what’s in the box?”
“If you were curious about it, why didn’t you ask?”
“You’d covered it so carefully with that wispy thing of yours that I figured you didn’t want anybody to mention it,” he said as we descended the stairs.
When we arrived in the parish of St. James Garlickhythe, Goody Alsop’s fetch opened the door.
“Come in, come in,” the witch said, beckoning us toward her seat by the fire. Her eyes were bright and snapping with excitement. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
The whole coven was there, sitting on the edge of their seats.
“Goody Alsop, this is my father, Stephen Proctor.”
“The weaver.” Goody Alsop beamed with satisfaction. “You’re a watery one, like your daughter.” My father hung back as he always did, watching everybody and saying as little as possible while I made the introductions. All the women smiled and nodded, though Catherine had to repeat everything to Elizabeth Jackson because my father’s accent was so strange.
“But we are being rude. Would you care to share your creature’s name?” Goody Alsop peered at my father’s shoulders, where the faint outlines of a heron could be seen. I’d never noticed it before.
“You can see Bennu?” my father said, surprised.
“Of course. He perches, open-winged, across your shoulders. My familiar spirit does not have wings, even though I am strongly tied to the air. She was easier to tame for that reason, I suspect. When I was a girl, a weaver came to London with a harpy for a familiar. Ella was her name, and she was very difficult to train.”
Goody Alsop’s fetch wafted around my father, crooning softly to the bird as it became more visible.
“Perhaps your Bennu can coax Diana’s firedrake to give up her name. It would make it much easier for your daughter to timewalk, I think. We don’t want any trace of her familiar left here, dragging Diana back to London.”
“Wow.” My father was struggling to take it all in—the strange accent, Goody Alsop’s fetch, the fact that his secrets were on display.
“Who?” Elizabeth Jackson asked politely, assuming she’d misunderstood.
My father drew back and studied Elizabeth carefully. “Have we met?”
“No. It is the water in my veins that you recognize. We are happy to have you among us, Master Proctor. London has not had three weavers within her walls in some time. The city is abuzz.”
Goody Alsop motioned to the chair beside her. “Do sit.”
My father took the place of honor. “Nobody at home knows about this weaving business.”