Chapter 2

Jane felt a lump form in her throat. She looked outside the carriage, at the green vegetation that they drove past. She could count the number of times she had left the Marsh residence. They were almost always at her Uncle Howard's prompting. Uncle Howard was not here to hold her hand as he did when she was a child. She was headed for enemy territory, where her only relative would be a man she did not care for.

That was an understatement. She loathed the Commander.

She tried to tame the emotions that were welling up inside her. Her thoughts went far and wide until she developed a headache, and then she fell asleep. When she woke up, she stared out to see that the sun was beginning to set. She dried her tears quickly and unfolded the paper that Eleonor had pressed into her hand. It was Eleonor's curved handwriting, the rounded R's, the I's with what looked like tear drops on top, the G's and Y's that invaded the line of words beneath them. And before even reading the letter, Jane knew that she would cherish it forever. Keeping it was, in a way, keeping a part of Eleonor.

She began to read:

My dearest Jane,

I have not the words with which to express how sorry I am for the outturn of events. I have known Father to be callous, but to claim that this last action of his did not shake me to my bones would be to lie. I hate him for what he made you do. And, more importantly, I hate myself for the part I played in it. If I had exercised more discretion, you would not be in this situation.

I am very sorry, Jane. I do hope that one day, you shall find it in your heart to forgive me.

"There is nothing to forgive you for," Jane whispered to herself, and she continued to read.

I know you are disappointed in me already, and so what harm could a little more disappointment do? I am sorry. I am a wretch, trying to make jokes in this situation. But Jane, I must tell you: The father of my child is Scottish. I know your eyes will grow wide when you read this.

Eleonor was right: Jane's eyes did go wide.

His name is Ramsay. He has blond hair and blue eyes. He is from a Scottish clan around the border. That is all I know about him.

Do you remember the storm that destroyed all our crop and made Father near-delirious for a week? Recall that I went riding that day. We had no idea that a storm was coming. When I returned, you were sick with worry. You asked how I had managed to weather it out and return. Well, it was Ramsay who saved me, Jane. I was riding through the border when it began. He took me into his his arms and on his horse and then, from there, to a makeshift tent where he had set up camp. Oh, no man had ever been as sweet to me as he was! He gave me the very clothes on his back. He had a broth made for me. He sang me to sleep. We lay together afterward. And it was the most magical thing.

I fell in love with him, Jane. It did not matter that he was a Scot in that moment. We met secretly for a while after that day and when I told him that I was pregnant, he was happy, Jane: truly, he was. There is no way to feign such joy. We planned to run away the next day, but I went to where we had agreed to meet, and he was not there.

Please do not judge me, Sister. I know that we and the Scottish are sworn enemies. But Ramsay was not at all like the Scottish were described to us. He was kind and loyal and very decent, and he looked at me like I was the sun itself. At least, that is what I thought. I see now that I am a fool for trusting him. For he left without any explanation.

Oh Jane, I have caused you so much trouble already, and I would never ask anything more of you if I had a choice. But Jane, do you think you could find it in your heart to try to find him? Please try. He did not tell me his clan for fear of putting me in danger. I know that no one else can find him. You are brave and adventurous and brilliant. Please tell Ramsay of the condition I have found myself in with the duke. Tell him that if he has any of the love he claimed to have for me, he must rescue me from my impending fate, if not for my sake, then for the sake of our child.

Please save me.

Love, Eleonor.

Jane folded the paper carefully and put it beside her on a chair. She removed the neckpiece that her uncle Howard had bought her on her sixteenth birthday. With it, she anchored the paper to the chair.

She then sighed.

It was a huge task that her sister had entrusted her with. She would be new in Scotland. She had no one to help her carry out this assignment. If the attitude he had portrayed before them all these years was anything to go by, she knew that Commander Pierce would not let her simply walk the length and breadth of the country. He seemed the type that did not allow things that he thought he owned out of his sight.

The thought filled her with fear. Her fear transformed into pure terror when she remembered that she would have to perform wifely duties. She had avoided thinking about it this past week in the oblivion that time and space afforded her, but she did not have that luxury anymore.

She had to face her reality.

And it was a grim one indeed.

She looked outside the window and was struck by the freedom of the trees that the carriage whizzed past. They grew as much as soil and sunlight and rain allowed them. No one laide claim to them. She would never have that kind of freedom. Something suddenly caught her eye and her head whipped to the left. There, on the low vegetation, was what appeared to be a boy on a horse. She blinked.

And he was gone.

She could not have imagined it. She inched closer to the window and looked outside it. There was nothing but grass in every direction as far as her eyes could see. She took her eyes away from the window and stared instead at her hands.

Her fate was worse than prison itself.