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| Read an excerpt |
Excerpt 1
1746
That evening, William was at
Elen’s cottage, making minor repairs to her boundary wall where the gate was
beginning to come away, making it difficult to open and shut, when he saw
Myfanwy walking up the path. He stopped work and looked at her quizzically.
She barely looked at him as
she asked, “Is Elen in?”
William nodded and lifted the
gate aside so that she could pass. He began to walk with her toward the cottage
when Myfanwy asked quietly. “Is it all right if I see her alone?”
William hesitated only a
moment. There was something in her voice, something strained and uncertain,
that made him step aside without further question. “Of course.”
Myfanwy thanked him with a
slight nod and continued toward the door. William returned to the wall, setting
another stone into place and pressing the earth tight around the hinge post
while she knocked.
Elen opened the door and, for
a moment, simply stood there, her hand still on the latch, looking at the woman
before her, the sight catching her unprepared. “Myfanwy?”
“May I come in?”
Elen stepped aside at once.
The door closed behind them, shutting out the evening air and the faint tapping
of William’s hammer against stone.
Inside, the small room held
the warmth of the day’s fire. A loaf of bread rested on the table beside a
wooden board dusted with flour, the smell of it lingering. Through the narrow
window, the last light of evening slanted across the floorboards and caught the
rough grain of the table.
Myfanwy remained standing
near the centre of the room.
She had always carried
herself with a restless energy, rarely still, rarely uncertain of where she
belonged. Now that energy seemed to have drained away, leaving her oddly
motionless, as if she feared that even the smallest movement might betray her.
Elen watched her for a
moment. “You did not come here to talk about the weather,” she said quietly.
Myfanwy gave a faint attempt
at a smile, but it did not reach her eyes. “No.”
Elen drew out the chair
beside the table. “Sit.”
Myfanwy obeyed, though the
movement was awkward. She settled on the edge of the chair and clasped her
hands together in her lap.
Elen remained standing for a
moment longer before taking the chair opposite.
Outside, the sound of
William’s hammer tapping steadily against the stones of the wall continued.
Neither woman spoke, the quiet stretching until it became impossible to ignore.
At last, Myfanwy lifted her
head. “I did not know where else to go.”
Elen said nothing, watching
her, allowing her time and space, though already suspecting why Myfanwy was
there.
“I thought,” Myfanwy
continued slowly, “that if I kept silent long enough, the trouble would pass of
its own accord.” Her hands tightened together.
“But it does not pass.”
Elen’s gaze moved over her face, noticing the shadows beneath her eyes, the
faint tightness in the way she held herself. “How long have you known?”
Myfanwy’s head jerked
slightly, as though the question had struck her unexpectedly.
“You know? How?” She looked
down at her stomach and ran a hand over it, testing whether anything showed.
“I did not know before. I
guessed from what you just said. Women understand such things,” Elen said.
For several seconds, Myfanwy
said nothing. Then she lowered her eyes again. “I hoped no one would notice for
a while yet.”
Elen laid the knife down
carefully on the board. “They probably don’t. I have only realised because
you’ve come to me in a troubled state. Does your father know?”
The question seemed to drain
the remaining colour from Myfanwy’s face. “No.”
“And Ewan?”
The room grew still. Outside
the hammering stopped briefly, then resumed. Myfanwy’s lips parted, but the
reply did not come. Elen studied her for a long moment, the silence returning
between them.
“Is Ewan the father?” she
asked quietly.
Myfanwy’s hands trembled, and
for an instant, it seemed she might answer. Instead, she turned her face away.
“I cannot tell my father about this.” The words came out raw and unguarded.
Elen leaned back slightly in
her chair, her eyes resting on Myfanwy’s lowered face. “No,” she said after a
moment. “I understand.”
“What do I do?” Outside, the
evening deepened across the valley. The faint sound of William’s hammer fell
silent, while inside the cottage, the two women sat facing one another in the
dimming light, wondering how to approach something that could not be hidden
much longer.
They both started when a
knock sounded at the door. Myfanwy’s head turned sharply, fear flashing across
her face.
William popped his head in
briefly. “The gate’s secure now. I’m heading home.” The door closed quietly,
and William’s footsteps disappeared into the growing gloom.
The interruption broke whatever composure Myfanwy had been holding. She bowed her head, and tears came.
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