CHAPTER 20 #2
Una gave a nod of approval as Margaret and Ella set their bits of onyx next to the coin. The old woman’s gaze darted and flicked across the pond, as if she was watching a bee fly from lily to lily or a stone a child skipped across the water.
Ella laughed and clapped her hands, as if she saw whatever Una did.
“The faeries are verra pleased with your gift,” Una whispered. “They grant ye permission to go into the water. ’Twould be a grave insult not to accept.”
Margaret removed her shoes and stockings, lifted her skirts, and gingerly stepped into the edge of the pond, expecting it to be cold.
“’Tis warm!” She’d heard of warm springs but never been in one before.
“That won’t do—ye must bathe in the pool for the faery dust to do its work,” Una said, “unless ’tis only your feet that need healing.”
“Bathe?” Margaret asked. “Ye mean without my clothes?”
“Of course,” Una said, and glanced heavenward.
“But I don’t need healing. In truth, I’ve never been healthier.”
“Some wounds can’t be seen.” Una extended her arm. “Hand me your gown.”
Margaret reluctantly gave in and was immediately glad she did. The warm water felt like liquid velvet on her skin.
“Ella, come in!” she called to her daughter, who was dangling her feet in the water beside Una.
Ella shook her head, her golden curls swinging side to side.
“I told her we mustn’t tempt the faeries by putting such a pretty bairn in their pool,” Una said. “They’ve been known to take a bairn through the spring to their home in the faery hill and leave a changeling in its place.”
Margaret wished Una would not frighten Ella with such tales. Still, now that she’d heard the tale herself, Margaret was glad Ella did not want to join her in the water.
As she floated on her back with her eyes closed, she felt as if her troubles were drifting away.
“Ye ought not let fear make ye run from Finn,” Una said.
So much for leaving her troubles. Margaret closed her eyes again and hoped Una was done talking.
“There aren’t many good men, but you’ve found one,” Una said. “Don’t be afraid to take a chance at happiness.”
“I couldn’t keep his interest for long,” Margaret said, echoing what Curstag told her. And she’d never have his heart.
“So you’re leaving him before he can leave you,” Una said.
He would leave her. If Margaret stayed, she would lose more of her heart to him each day as she waited for him to tire of her or find some other reason to cast her aside. And all the while, she would risk conceiving and losing another babe. Nay, it was better to go now.
She sank beneath the surface and let the dark silence of the pool encompass her. As soon as she lifted her head above the water, Una continued talking.
“Ye think Finn will throw ye to the wolves like some men will,” Una said. “But Finn is not like that. What has he done to cause ye to judge him so harshly?”
It was true that Finn could have abandoned her when he learned Moray no longer needed a hostage.
But he’d had nothing to lose by taking her along.
If he had more at stake, a cost to pay, would Finn make the same choice?
Neither her husband nor the men of her family ever thought she was worth giving up a single thing they wanted.
“What if it’s me?” Margaret asked in a choked voice. “Perhaps I’m not worthy of sacrifice.”
“Ach, don’t speak such nonsense,” Una said with a dismissive wave of her hand.
Nonsense or no, the men Margaret should have been able to rely on had used her for their own ends and then abandoned her when she needed them.
“Live while ye can,” Una said, “for you’re a long time dead.”
After that bit of Highland wisdom, Margaret got out of the water, dried off, and dressed. And still, Una would not leave the subject alone.
“My own dear husband died just a year after we wed,” Una said as they started back to the castle. “But I wouldn’t give up that year if I’d known I’d lose him. Nay, I would have squeezed every bit of happiness I could have from every day I had with him.”
“Would ye not suffer all the more when ye lost everything?” Margaret said.
“Ye can’t give up what happiness this life has to offer out of fear of sorrow,” Una said, leaning on Margaret’s arm as they walked. “Sorrow will come, as it does to all of us, and that’s all you’ll have to remember.”
Margaret had spent so much of her life pleasing others and expecting little for herself.
Believing she had no choice but to accept her burdens, she’d tried to do it without anger or resentment.
Was she losing too much by leaving now? Was it worth the pain she would suffer later to have some happiness now, however brief?
She was abruptly pulled from her thoughts when Una pinched her.
“Ouch!”
“Hush,” Una whispered. “Ach, this is bad luck, but a pinch helps ward it off.”
“What’s wrong?” Margaret picked Ella up and looked around them, but she saw no danger.
“There,” Una whispered, and Margaret followed her gaze to a branch overhead on which a single bird was perched. “Two magpies mean good luck for a wedding. One foretells trouble coming.”
There was no mistaking the magpie. It had the black feathers on its head, neck, and breast, pure white ones on its belly and shoulders, and a long black tail with a sheen of deep blue.
“Feasgar math,” good day, Una said to the bird.
Margaret’s nursemaid had told her one must show the magpie respect and greet it to ward against the bad luck. Then again, the nursemaid had also suggested telling the magpie I defy thee seven times, which did not strike Margaret as at all respectful.
Margaret told herself she did not believe those superstitious tales. And yet, when the magpie tilted his head and looked straight at her with his dark, beady eyes, she felt a chill in her bones, as if someone was walking over her grave.
Squawk! Squawk! Squawk! The loud, harsh sound made her jump.
“Death is coming,” Una said as they watched the bird fly away.