Chapter 11 #3
“I was about to say I thought his hearing was better than Charlotte’s, and although that may be true, it is obvious she has a better appreciation for Shakespearian insults.”
She laughed, a sense of weightless joy coming over her in a way she couldn’t quite explain. It was as if she had been carrying around a huge sack of guilt, sorrow and anger over the past year, and Simon had lifted it from her shoulders.
Sir Williamson returned to his seat and touched the registry. “Would you like to see the recording of your parents’ marriage?” He asked in a tone that was as detached and self-possessed as it had been before her display of emotion.
Over a decade ago, her world had been turned upside down, and Sir Williamson was about to give it all back. This was the evidence that would prove their legitimacy that had been in question since she was twelve years old.
She looked down at a worn red ribbon with frayed edges sticking out of the bottom of the book, nearly three quarters of the way through the registry. “Yes,” she said, and watched as he opened it to the page marked by the ribbon, then pushed the book closer for her to see.
Caillen scooted to the edge of her seat to scan the writings. Various names were scrawled across the page, along with the vicar’s signature at the end of each line.
Sir Williamson right index finger glided down the page and stopped toward the bottom where she saw her parents’ names neatly written on the eighteenth day of May 1788: Lady Elizabeth Marie Sinclair Blair and Mister Duncan Dorian Blair witness by Margaret Mary Sinclair and Edward Bradley Timothy Sinclair with Reverend Bishop’s signature at the end.
“My mother’s aunt witnessed the ceremony? But that means there were witnesses all along who could have vouched for our legitimacy,” she said, stunned.
“Your mother’s aunt and uncle died before she did, and her parents soon after. The vicar died a month before your father at age of seventy-five. There was no one who had first-hand knowledge of your parent’s wedding except the vicar’s younger brother.”
“Even he was in his late seventies when I obtained the book from him,” Simon added.
She turned to him. “But how did you know where to find him, and that he still had it?”
“Let’s just leave it at a bit of luck, and that the man had a change of heart and wanted the book to be back on British soil where it belonged.”
Simon met her gaze and a smile broke out across her face. “I’m not a bastard.”
“You’re not a bastard,” Simon repeated matching her smile with one of his own.
“My sisters will be ecstatic!”
“You cannot tell your sisters,” Sir Williamson declared as he thumped the book closed, almost taking her fingers with it.
“But they have a right to know,” she protested.
“This is what almost got you killed the night of the fire,” Sir Williamson said.
“But why?”
“The man who ordered the book destroyed was desperate to hide your parents’ marriage. I can only surmise that it was the same reason your father was killed.”
“For their land,” Simon said.
“For the land,” Sir Williamson confirmed.
“You think my father’s heir killed him for the land?”
Sir Williamson’s voice took on a quiet, deadly air. “No, I believe it was the Duke of Ross.”
“That’s absurd,” Simon responded instantaneously.
“My brother-in-law?” Just when her life seemed to be coming together, Sir Williamson was pulling the rug out from under their feet. The Duke of Ross had married her oldest sister, Iseabail. The gentle caring husband, who had convinced them all of his reformed ways, was responsible for everything?
She remembered the first time they had been introduced to Ross at their home in Urquhart Castle. Ross had hated their home, and though he had been pleasant enough to their faces, she and her sisters had left their home the very next day with the permanent brands of bastard attached to their name.
Yet, they had all believed his professed innocence.
The careless rake was reformed and atoning for sins that weren’t meant to destroy their lives.
Ross had taken the Blair sisters under his wing and paraded them around town as his wards while he wooed Iseabail.
He had been so benevolent, the consummate defender of their honor.
She shook her head. If it were true, Ross was worse than William and much more dangerous…her sister was having his baby.
“As I said, she cannot return to Harding House. She must stay here.” Sir Williamson stood up to leave.
“Now hold on one blasted moment.” Simon said as he rose to his feet.
Caillen sat in stunned silence. She looked to Simon whose coloring was as white as her own.
He had grown up with Ross. They were best friends, had been rogues and rakes together, and now they were being told that the man who was closer than a brother to Astley had more than likely set his townhome on fire.
A fire that could have left Astley trapped on the upper floor.
Could have killed his son, her son, and countless servants, all in an effort to destroy the book Sir Williamson was leaving with in his possession.
How many horrible men would attempt to destroy Blair sisters to gain money they didn’t possess?