One from a new author :-)
This is probably too easy:
Angloa felt a gentle tingling sensation as she sank into the richly defined armchair. The room itself was rather patchy, but through the French window she could see a magnificent oak tree and verdant lawns, in which a croquet lawn was a predominant feature. Piers Singsmyle was out there. He paced back and forth along a well worn track from the veranda to the first croquet hoop. A man in Edwardian costume stood by the hoop, mouth open in consternation.
She could hear Piers’ side of the conversation, and it didn’t sound as though his argument was working. An icy wind blew through the window, confirming this, and as the scene outside started to break up, Piers ran in and grabbed her hands.
‘They’re not going to deal, Miss Merrycan,’ he yelled. ‘This one is being dismantled too! Can you get us back to the Library?’
Any guesses?