You could have cut the silence in the room with a mackerel.

"Honest to Pete, I know the English are supposed to be eccentric, but this is just ludicrous," I whispered to Sarah.

"They certainly are…different here," Sarah agreed, watching with interested eyes as the two women continued.

"That wasn't Cromwell's men. You have your history mixed up again. It was James II's party that fired the town and killed everyone, your piddling cat included."

"Ladies, I'm sorry, you're going to have to leave. We're in the middle of an important séance here, and we've just made contact."

"James II?" The short woman named Tansy wrinkled her brow, ignoring Bettina's plea. "Are you sure? I distinctly remember cursing Cromwell."

Dame Margaret shook her head. "Of course you cursed him; we all did. Don't you remember the group cursing parties we used to have with the powers and virtues? All that thunder and lightning and those absolutely glorious bonfires that lit up the countryside for miles."

"Ladies!" Bettina strode forward with a smile that was a bit tattered around the edges. "I must insist that you leave now."

"I liked the wine back then," Tansy said with a sad little sigh. "You just don't find wine like that anymore."

"You don't find plague anymore either, but you won't catch me bemoaning the loss of those days. Yes, yes, we hear you, whatever your name is." Dame Margaret turned to Bettina, who was standing at the opened door. "This won't take long at all."