With images of fairies and fancy food floating through her mind, Belle's interest was rapidly growing.
"It came to me but is a message for ye," Elise explained. "From...from yer father."
Belle blinked again. The stew bubbled away forgotten, the wooden spoon barely in her hold anymore. Her chin tucked, and her brow came down in a frown.
"From Papa?"
A foreign sense of hurt bubbled up in Belle's stomach. If her mother had possessed a letter from her papa for so long, why was she only giving it to hernow?There had been many a time when Belle had wondered about the father she had never known. A letter might have eased that pain of absence.
"No." Elise looked pained. She winced and seemed to brace herself for her next words but never broke Belle's gaze, which is how Belle could recognize her confession as truth. "Ye and yer brothers...ye did not share the same papa, Arabelle."
Blinking, Belle did not know whether to deny such silliness or simply laugh. Somehow, however, the honesty in Elise's eyes kept her silent. She could only listen to the following admission without reaction.
"Ah loved yer brothers' papa, Arabelle," her mother began in haste, her words tripping over themselves now in an effort to be understood. "Ah did. He were a good man and everythin' ah wanted in the world. And...when he left me, when he died...the world were just a little too empty. Ah didnae know how to bear it."
Tears pooled in Elise's eyes, and Belle felt the same in hers. Her heart stung for her mother.
Elise had often spoken of her husband, of her love for him. Belle had never doubted the affection between her parents. Or...between the two people that she hadthoughtwere her parents.
"Ah had to work. Ah needed to. Yer brother, Elliott...there were nothin' wi' which to feed him after his father died. We didnae hae anything. Ah went to work at the castle and—"
"The castle?" Belle exclaimed in surprise.
It was the first interruption she had made, but she hadn't been able to help herself. The Henderson estate was miles from their home, but the laird's sprawling castle was so large that one could see it even from their poor, little world. Belle had often made it the center of her fantasies, the grand home of her heroes or the dark nest of villainous scoundrels. She and her brothers had made such tales with the castle at their core.
Now, her mother was telling her that she had actually been inside? That she had worked within its walls? Why had she never said so until now?
"Aye. Ah worked as a maid for Laird Henderson and haed to leave Elliott here with Miss Farris all the week."
Belle winced. Mrs. Farris had been a crotchety old lady that lived two farms over. She had died when Belle was six. It had been the first funeral she had ever attended.
Ignoring the now searing hiss of the stew, Belle was focused on her mother, who was still speaking. The tale of her conception spilled out before her as if Elise had waited so many years to reveal it and had never been able to find the words.
"Ah was so grievin', Belle. So sad. Felt like ah'd lost my baby Elliott alongside my husband... And Alasdair... Laird Henderson, he was so kind. So sweet. Ah..." Elise swallowed, her sensibilities not allowing her to go on. "He comforted me and after ah...ah was with child. With ye." Belle could only stare. "But Ala—Laird Henderson—were married and couldnae look after me. He sent me back home. Gave us coin so we could live.
"Ah couldnae regret it. Ah had my home and my baby back. And Elliott...he had a sister coming. Ah couldnae tell anyone who yer real papa was, Belle. Ah just let them assume ah were with child when James died. Ah couldnae... Ah didnae admit the truth."
Belle did not know what to think. She sat frozen upon the stool, supper lost and her thoughts just as foggy. She could not seem to comprehend what her mother had just admitted to her, what she was learning about herself.
Perhaps for some, emotions would have taken over, and cries of denial would spring to their lips. Mayhaps anger would have been on its heels. For Belle, the shock had simply left her stupefied. She could only blink, processing her mother's tears as evidence of honesty.
Elise was speaking truthfully. Arabelle knew this in her gut. Yet, it was so surreal a truth that Belle struggled to swallow it.
The only thought that seemed able to float through her mind was a simple sadness that she and Elliott had not been true brother and sister. Only half connected. Not that it lessened her love for her departed brother. Only that it seemed wrong somehow to place a division between them now. After he was gone from the world.
Slowly, the real impact of her mother's words began to descend upon Belle.
Laird Henderson.LairdAlasdair Henderson.
"My..." Belle blinked, looking down at her own hands that now sat in her lap. The weight of them dented her skirts and allowed the fire to illuminate the thick and rough weave of her clothes, the poorness of them. "My father is...the laird? Laird Henderson is my papa? The laird in the castle? The one that rules us for the king?Heis my papa?"
Her words escalating and her voice growing in volume, Belle finally felt the emotional reaction to Elise's revelation.
In a moment, she was on her feet. The stool clattered over behind her, and she began to pace. She stared at her old boots, at their lifting soles and the string laces that were beginning to fray. She watched as the dirt floor beneath them scuffed plumes of dust under her feet and felt the itchy sway of her dress.
Just what would her life have been like if she had been raised as the daughter of the laird? Just what would she havehad?Would she have ever been hungry? Ever worn dresses that turned her skin red and raw? What of her mother? Would she have been able to live in a way that saw her back less painful, her trials less strenuous?
Belle's feet stilled as she realized that such questions were all for moot. Her mother had never married the laird—he already possessed a wife—and so there had been no hope that her world may have been different.
