Page 62 of The Remarkable Myth of a Nameless Lady
“I hoped I might speak with you, unless you are intent on taking this entire wall down with your bare hands?” Jacob ignored the unsettled sensation. This was his brother. What harm could possibly befall him, in Owen’s presence?
Owen smirked. “And what was it you wanted to speak to me about? If it’s that notion of reparations, you can spare yourself the trouble. And if it is to do with your true birth, you can spare yourself the trouble with that, too. I have come to the conclusion that it does not matter anymore.”
“You have?” Jacob raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“I have learned, in my life, that if you want something badly enough, all you have to do is take it,” Owen said. “Tell me, Brother, do you recognize this?” From behind his back, he produced a musket. Jacob did, indeed, recognize it. It was the same musket that had shot Elias dead.
“I do,” Jacob replied, as the feeling of uneasiness turned into outright dread.
“It belongs to Mr. Price, though you know that already.”
Jacob clenched his fists. “But Mr. Price was not the man who tried to shoot us.”
Owen chuckled. “Oh, I am well aware of that. You see, I gave the order to Mr. Price to bring this musket to the house and leave it by the stable. Mistress Marigold collected it, under the instruction that I would lead you out to the stables, where she might seize the moment to remove you from our lives. Naturally, I did not expect us to quarrel and come to blows, which complicated matters somewhat. Mistress Marigold did her best, though at least she did not miss and hit me instead.”
Jacob’s gut wrenched. “You meant tokillme?”
“I did, as I do now,” he replied casually. “Although, I have decided that I must take matters into my own hands, as no one else can be entrusted with the task. When you are found, they will also find Mr. Price’s musket nearby, and he will be accused of your murder. I will ensure it.”
“I…” Jacob struggled for the right words, as nervous energy thrummed through his veins.
“You do not understand why I am doing this?” Owen scowled, lifting the musket and aiming the barrel at Jacob’s chest. “I would have thought it would be obvious to you, by now? You refuse to leave, so you must be removed. This title is mine. This land is mine. It should never have been offered to you. You are no son of my father. As I alluded earlier, I would not have had to go to these lengths if you had returned to London. The title itself is of no consequence to me, but the land—thisland—and the ruling of it all, is of every consequence to me.”
“Why, Owen? Why not work together, as brothers? Why must you seek to remove me?” Jacob hissed, as fury and fear mingled within him.
“Because you are a problem. I have many complicated plans afoot, and you would never agree to be part of them.”
Jacob remembered the attack on the ball and hoped it might give him leverage. At the very least, he prayed it might purchase him some more time to persuade Owen not to use that rifle on him.
“Allow me a moment,” he pleaded. “There is to be an attack on the house tomorrow, during Mother’s ball. The Ribbonmen have it planned. Please, Brother, let us work together to prevent this. I urge you to reconsider your actions. All you have to do is put that musket down, and I will forget everything that has been said. I will not attempt to belittle your leadership here. I will listen and I will learn from you, so we may be able to work in unity with one another.”
Owen barked a cold laugh. “And where have you heard of this, pray tell?”
“I would prefer to protect their identity, but I have it on good authority that this plot is very real,” Jacob replied, raising his hands in a gesture of submission.
“Of course it is real.” Owen peered down the sight. “I constructed the plot myself.”
Jacob’s heart almost stopped. “What?”
“I constructed the plot, as a way to rid us of the Ribbonmen, once and for all. I have been their leader for a long while, without them even realizing it. I have been feeding them funds, to distract them, and have offered to grant them a gift of muskets so they will be armed for the fight to come—at Mother’s ball, as you stated.” He grinned eerily. “Of course, the muskets will not fire. I have seen to it myself. But it will look as if they intended to cause harm. I already have men waiting, who are loyal to the cause of unification. They will apprehend the Ribbonmen. By this time next week, they will all be on transportation ships, on their merry way to Australia.”
“No… that cannot be. It is not possible!” Jacob exclaimed.
“I assure you, it is very possible, and is already in motion,” Owen replied.
“But why would you do that?” Jacob was incredulous.
“To rid my lands of those who seek to destroy it, of course. Although, I have a grander image in mind. Once the Irish hear that a revolution has been quelled, this time with armed men, they will fall more easily in line.” Owen shifted the musket against his shoulder. “A new Ireland will rise, united with Britain, as it ought to be. And I will represent the fresh blood that will bring it to greatness.”
“You adore the Irish. Why would you try to bring them further suffering?” Jacob could not fathom it.
“I must be cruel to be kind, in the greater scheme of things,” Owen said. “It is the same with you. I must be cruel to be kind. I must kill you in order to see my plans come to light, so that these lands may flourish, and you do not bring shame on our name.”
Jacob shook his head. “You do not have to do this. You do not have to kill me.”
“To make it all the sweeter, when Mr. Price is apprehended for the crime of your murder, I will have rid these lands of him, too. And with his daughter being such a frail creature, I do not imagine it will be long before she follows him into the dirt. He has been a thorn in my side for a fair while, and I shall be relieved to have it extracted for good.”
Alicia…
