Jane should have been there. Their entire lives, she had supported Eleonor through thick and thin. If she were here, she would be trying to catch Eleonor’s eye, to wordlessly reassure her. Eleonor had hoped that Jane had found Ramsay, she had nurtured the thought that Jane would return with Ramsay in tow, and this wedding would fall through.
Alas, there was no hope of that now. Eleonor knew that Jane must have tried her best. Now, Eleonor just wanted to know that she was doing well and living as best as she could as the horrid Commander’s wife.
They had reached the altar now. Eleonor stole a look at her husband-to-be and saw that he was looking at her as one would look at something they intended to devour. There was no doubt as to his eagerness to bed her. He was bedecked in ducal finery: an emerald suit lined with diamonds and perhaps. He was portly and heavily perfumed. Recently, she had become sensitive to certain odors and now she did her best not to empty her breakfast onto the floor of the church.
The priest began a litany which Eleonor did not follow. She was thinking about Ramsay and the baby that was growing within her belly. How would she keep her secret from the Duke? What would become of her if she was found out?
Eleonor felt like a piece of meat as the Duke gazed at her. She shrunk where she stood. She wanted to be reduced to some vapor, some formless, invisible thing that could not be caught. She would fly out of the church, past the trees, sail in the clouds, float to where she had first met Ramsay. She would search the entire earth for him, if only to find out what had truly happened.
Her father squeezed her hand and she stared at him sharply. She noticed that everyone in the church as looking at her, and realized that it was time for her to say “I do.” She swallowed. With those two words she would seal her fate and shut off all possibility of leaving this church a free woman.
She had to. The entire church was waiting. But the words were stuck in her throat.
“Daughter,” her father whispered to her, “this is not the time to be a mute doll. Say the words.”
There was a sharp murmur in the crowd. Commander Pierce was at the church’s door, Jane in tow. They both looked the worse for wear. He was bruised all over and he looked filthy and exhausted. His clothes clung to his body with sweat. Jane looked like she had been through hardship. Her clothes were distressed and her hair was a mess. She looked like she was under duress. The Commander was holding her quite like one would hold a hostage and not a wife. Eleonor’s first instinct was to rush to Jane’s aid. She would have done it if her father had not clamped her down with a vice-like grip. “What is the meaning of this, Commander Pierce?” he bellowed.
The commander paid him no mind. “That woman, Eleonor Marsh,” he said in his stage voice, loud enough to ring through all the corners of the church, “is not a proper lady and therefore is not fit to marry an Englishman, let alone a duke of such high repute.” Jane strained against him, as though to stop him, but he dug his fingers into her wrist, and she yelped in pain.
“And why is that?” the priest asked with his eyebrow raised.
“Because she is a consummate fornicator” - there was a collective gasp from the guests - “with the evidence of her lust growing inside her. And it is no ordinary bastard in her belly,” he continued. “No. It is the bastard of a Highland beast!”
* * *
Jane was exhausted. Commander Pierce had stopped only once on the way. Not yet well settled from the ride with Alistair and forced on another ride with a grueling pace, Jane’s energy was all but depleted. She had had the presence of mind to rips bits of her dress and throw them on the ground as the journey progressed. She hoped that they would lead Alistair and Ramsay right to her. Commander Pierce had not noticed, for he rode with a singlemindedness that bordered on madness. He had been possessed by his mission, to gain the Duke of Lancaster’s favor at any cost.
When they had gotten to the chapel, he had dismounted and dragged her off the horse, creating a scene outside. Thankfully, most of the guests were already inside. She had dug her feet in the ground and resisted his pulling with all her might. Alas, she was no match for him, as he dragged her in the direction of the entrance anyway.
The few people around had protested. “How dare you treat a lady in that manner, sir?” one of the guests, a thin man in a dark clothes said. He walked up to Commander Pierce. “I see you are a soldier. What sort of a soldier drags a woman? Unhand her at once!”
Commander Pierce growled at him. “Get out or I shall empty your belly on the cobblestone,” he had threatened, and the man had stepped away as if scalded. The Commander had then dragged Jane inside the church and made his damning announcement.
“What is the meaning of this?” the Duke of Lancaster had inquired, anger flashing in his eyes. Commander Pierce had walked towards the altar, dragging Jane along.
“Your Grace-,” Jane started quickly, unsure of what to say but desperate to say something, anything, that might save the situation and her sister. “”
“Jane!”
Jane’s head whipped around to see Alistair and Ramsay standing at the entrance of the church. The guests gasped at the sight of the menacing Highlander warriors.
“Alistair!” Jane exclaimed and made to run to him but the Commander held her hand even more tightly.
“Let her go!” Alistair said, taking a step forward.
“If you want her, Scottish scum,” Commander Pierce said, “come and get her.”
Alistair took another step forward. “Stop!” Jane exclaimed. “He means to kill you!”
Ramsay sighted Eleonor, her face still white from shock, her hand in the grip of an older man that Ramsay assumed was her father. “Eleonor!” he exclaimed and advanced towards the altar.
When she saw him, life returned to her. She broke free of her father’s grip and ran to him. They met in the middle and fell into an embrace. Eleonor clung to him and sobbed against his neck. Ramsay held on to her and whispered apologies and promises into her hair.
The guests were in shock, not sure whether to flee the savage Scots or to stay put and watch the drama play out.
Andrew Marsh and the Duke of Lancaster were furious.
“Let go of my bride!” the Duke commanded Ramsay.
