Dark Angel by T.J. Bennett

master’s discretion. There is so much to tell, and we do not want to run ahead of his wishes.”
    She shook him off. “She has a right to know, Matthew, and she will learn soon enough.”
    Her sharp retort surprised me, and I sensed an old argument between them that had origins long preceding my arrival.
    She turned to me. “Yours is a difficult question to answer. From what we can observe, we believe the passage of time here is different. Outside Ynys Nos , time moves along like a river, carrying its inhabitants down the stream like leaves on the water. Within Ynys Nos ,” she struggled for the right words, “we float above the river, only occasionally interacting with the flow of time as one might dip one’s finger in the water while it rushes by. As a result, we do not age in the same way, nor perceive time as you would.”
    “What nonsense is this? Time is time,” I sputtered. “It moves the same for everyone.”
    “Not here,” she insisted. “Not any longer.”
    “Mariah—” Her cousin tried again to interrupt.
    “No, Matthew, I will not be silenced. Mrs. Briton, how old do you think I am? Or my cousin? Or Mrs. Jones, for that matter?”
    I gazed at them all, surprised at the question. “Well, I do not know exactly, but I would think your cousin in his latter thirties, and you perhaps his junior by several years. And Mrs. Jones would appear to be about seventy.”
    “You are very nearly right, dear lady. That is quite close to the ages we all were…one hundred years ago.”

Chapter Six
    My teacup jerked in my hands and the hot liquid splashed my skirt. Mrs. Howard jumped up and took a tea towel to my dress, while I sat, dumbfounded, and simply stared at her. I could not believe what I had just heard.
    “Oh dear, oh dear,” she murmured, dabbing the tea from my skirt.
    I took hold of the other woman’s wrist and stopped her flustered fussing. “Mrs. Howard, do you mean to try and convince me you and your cousin here are over one hundred years old? That indeed, all the inhabitants of this village have been suspended in time and have ceased to age?”
    Mrs. Howard clutched the tea towel and exchanged a pleading look with the vicar. He sighed deeply and set his cup aside. “It is true, madam. At least my cousin has told you the truth as we know it. Time is suspended here, and we are trapped in it like flies in amber.”
    “I see.” I glanced at Mrs. Jones, who hung her head, avoiding eye contact. I took a calming breath, released Mrs. Howard’s wrist, and laughed delightedly.
    Their expressions clearly indicated I was the mad one and not them. I smiled at Mrs. Howard.
    “You played that very well. I almost thought for a moment you were serious. Do you jest with all of your island’s visitors in the same way?”
    Mrs. Howard blinked and sank into her chair. “We have not had outside visitors for one hundred years, and it was no jest, I assure you, Mrs. Briton. I am one hundred and thirty-two years old, as God is my witness.”
    I winked at her. “I must have your beauty secrets, then. Your skin is quite youthful.” I put down the teacup and made a moue of distress at the stain now spoiling my skirts. “Oh, dear. Nothing for it,” I murmured, realizing I had ruined the fine material of the apple-green dress I had chosen from those provided by Gerard. Perhaps later I would ask Mrs. Jones if she had a remedy for stains. But for now… “I wonder if we may get on with our discussion about the island. There really is a great deal I want to learn.”
    Mr. Pangburn rubbed a hand across his jaw. “Madam, we are not making sport of you. We truly have been suspended in time.”
    He and Mrs. Howard gazed at me with similar wide-eyed expressions of innocence while Mrs. Jones squirmed in her chair.
    I tasted bitter disappointment in my mouth. Why would these people, who had behaved so kindly to me, be so unkind to me now? There could only be one reason— someone must have gotten to them first.