Chapter 28
F inola did not return for quite a while. An hour, perhaps, although Bethany struggled to judge time without a clock. For all that time, Bethany had been sat in the cottage, gazing into the fire and trying to gather her emotions.
When the door opened and Finola strolled in, chattering away about a baby she’d just helped to deliver, Bethany tried to act as if nothing was wrong. But, apparently, Finola saw straight through her.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, her face falling. “Is there a problem?”
Bethany tried not to glance at Matthew. It was alright; he couldn’t understand any of what they were saying.
“Comgall just asked me to marry him,” she told FInola. “But surely he can’t have meant it. Not really. It would be such a terrible idea. Wouldn’t it?”
Finola paused. She seemed to be choosing her words very carefully .
“You can only do what you think is best for you and Matthew,” she said at last.
Bethany nodded.
“I am sure that I could never marry again. And I especially couldn’t marry a king! Can you imagine?”
Finola smiled, but said nothing.
“No, he will be better off with Eithne,” Bethany said firmly. “He might be feeling guilty right now, but he’ll overcome it.”
“As long as you’re sure,” Finola said.
With a start, Bethany realised that Finola had been hard at work this whole time, lifting bundles of herbs down from the cart outside and putting them away. Shaking herself for such selfishness, she got up to help. Walking over to the back door took her past Matthew, who was still playing by the hearth. Bethany laughed at the ash on his face.
“You look like Cinderella,” she told him.
“Who?” Finola asked, looking at her oddly.
Bethany shook herself again.
“No one,” she said, and pulled open the back door. She reached for the bundles of herbs, piling them high in her arms. She must not forget that she was in the past. It was just so much harder here than it was at Dunadd, when this cottage felt just like home.
“It is amazing how familiar this cottage feels,” she said to Finola as she re-entered the room and laid the herbs out on the table.
Finola smiled.
“This place has been home to a long line of wise women. I hope it will be home to many more yet.”
Bethany shivered a little. Had her grandmother been one of those women? She’d certainly had a strong interest in herbs. One of the neighbouring children had even called her a witch, once, although he’d been too afraid to say it above a whisper.
She looked down at Matthew, wishing he’d known more about his great-grandmother.
But Matthew’s toy horse lay forlornly in the ash. Matthew himself was nowhere to be seen.