“Eleonor!” her father called, his face red with rage, “Return to this altar immediately!”
Eleonor ignored him. “Why did you leave me?” she asked, with tears in her voice. “I waited for you. Night and day, I waited.”
“I didnae leave ye, me love,” Ramsay said. “I was kidnapped by the Commander. ’Twas Jane and Alistair that found me, rotting in a prison cell, pining fer ye. I would never leave you!”
“Oh, I knew you would not!” Eleonor exclaimed. “I knew it in my heart and in my soul!” She embraced him, and he held on to her as though his life depended upon it. Still in Ramsay’s embrace, she turned to Jane, her face the very picture of happiness. “I can never thank ye enough, Jane! Thank you for finding him. Thank you, thank you!”
“What doyouhave to do with all this?” Jane’s father asked her.
“As you can see, Eleonor’s beloved did not abandon her. He was captured by Commander Pierce, so he could not take responsibility for the blessing that he and Eleonor have created together. I helped my sister find out the truth and reunite her with the father of her child. I was captured by the Scots, yes, but that led me to the man whom I sought by pure fluke. However, the Commander here kidnapped me, beat me, and brought me here to reveal what he knew would ruin Eleonor, only to obtain the Dukes favor!”
“A man cannot kidnap his wife, that is absurd!” her father said.
“I am not his wife!” Jane declared. “I was captured by the Highlanders before I ever reached him! Or did he forget to mention that to you?”
“You two girls are an embarrassment. You are wantons, just like your mother!” Marsh bellowed, changing the subject, spittle flying out of his mouth.
Jane’s forehead furrowed in confusion. “What do you speak of, Father?”
“Like you two, that woman chose to follow the wishes of her heart and her passion instead of doing her duty to me. She dishonored the family name. Dragged it through the mud and set it on fire,” her father said, vibrating with rage.
“What are you implying, Father?” Jane asked.
Their father barked a short, hard laugh that was utterly devoid of mirth. “Your mother never loved me. She loved my brother, Howard. She married me only because I was the firstborn and her family made her.”
This revelation hit Jane and Eleonor hard. Looks of confusion appeared on their faces.
“And then you killed your mother in childbirth!” He pointed at Jane. Then he turned to his oldest daughter. “She brings nothing but trouble. She is nothing but a constant reminder of your mother’s infidelity and she has the green eyes to show it!”
“Mother’s infidelity?” Jane mustered the strength to say. “’Green eyes?”
“Yes,” her father said. “You have the same eyes as your father.” He turned to Eleonor. “The sister whom you defend so valiantly is only partly so. Her true father is your Uncle Howard. I should have left her to die with him.”
Jane’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Uncle… Uncle Howard was my father?” Thoughts and memories overwhelmed her. Of having his eyes. Of his tenderness and his special treatment of her. He had been more of a father to her than the man she had called father for eighteen years. Now it was all clear. Everything she had known was a lie. Had Uncle Howard known? Had he been as much in the dark as she? She doubted it. He must have known, for he had treated her like a daughter. She was dizzy, but she knew that she had to get as much information about this situation as possible.
“What dae ye mean by yer last statement?” Alistair asked Andrew Marsh. “Ye should have left her tae die with him?”
“I answer to no Scottish beasts,” Andrew Marsh responded.
“Answer me then,” Jane said. “What did you mean by it?”
Andrew Marsh smiled a sad smile.
“Your mother thought me a saint. That was her second, and most fatal mistake,” he said, “the first being your conception. When I looked at you at birth, I knew what she had done. I realized that the fire between her and my brother, which I had thought had ebbed after our marriage was still there, and it had consumed them both. As she lay dying, she asked me to forgive her and Howard, and to raise you as my own.” He sighed. “I did as she asked, but I could never forgive Howard for what he had done. He had to die. So I waited. For almost two decades, I waited patiently.
“The war was the perfect cover for my plan as Howard was a soldier. I sent assassins to kill him during the battle and made it seem like he was felled by the enemy. And then the two of you had to ruin everything and I had to find quick solutions to all the problems you created.”
A look passed between Jane and Alistair.
“Murderer!” Jane exclaimed, her voice raw with pain. Her entire life, she had been despised by Andrew Marsh for a wrong that she was in no way responsible for. She had been told that her mother had been a woman about whom nothing was particularly extraordinary: she loved her husband, she loved Eleonor. She ran the home efficiently. Full stop. She had never known about her passionate side, the side that drove her to do things that were forbidden by custom and convention. Now that she was in love with Alistair, Jane understood her completely. And now, Jane thought about how different it would been if Uncle Howard - her father - had still been alive. She knew in her heart of hearts that he would have called her his own. He would not have been critical of her relationship with Alistair. He would have understood her and supported her.
He would have been a loving father. Andrew Marsh had taken that away from her. A fresh wave of anger washed over her.
“Marsh!” the Duke said finally, taking center stage. “You knew?”
“Your Grace,” their father said, a slight tremor in his voice betraying him. “Your Grace, I-”
“He knew!” Eleonor spat.
