To all my reviewers, TLSlark, TamPhuoc, Silverian Rose, Madelynne Rabb, Booklover03, and angeldanielle being among the newest, thank you! I am glad you are all enjoying my story!
And without further delay, here is chapter nine. Any questions about the man at the end of chapter eight will be answered in this chapter.
Runaway
Chapter Nine
Danielle sat quietly at the writing desk in the library, awaiting the tears of happiness she knew she would hear soon from the study.
In the past few weeks, she really had looked into Rodmilla's past and found something unsettling to her. A secret that she hadn't told anyone.
And now that secret would be out in the open and Marguerite would be back where she belonged.
"Marguerite, this is an old friend of mine, Earl Michael de la Fere. He is from Paris," Thomas said in introduction.
"Earl de la Fere, it is nice to meet you," Marguerite said, bowing her head to him.
"Marguerite, he is here to find out if you are his daughter," Thomas said.
"My daughter Marie was kidnapped when she was three years old. My wife had taken her out for the day to Orleans and while they were roaming the market, Marie was grabbed from behind by a man with dark hair and dark eyes," Michael explained to her.
Her eyes widened in shock at his words, which had brought long forgotten images into her head. That day he had just told her about was definitely familiar to her.
FLASHBACK
"Marie, we are here," a woman said to her. The woman had golden blond hair and stunning blue eyes.
"Yes, mommy," the little imp of a three year old said back to her. She was dressed in a baby-blue dress that she loved.
The two of them got out of the carriage and roamed the market for hours, the little girl in awe of everything she saw.
Just for a moment while they stopped at a cart, the mother let go of the three year old's hand. And that's all it took.
"Mommy!" the girl called out as she was pulled into the crowd.
"Marie!" the mother screamed as she took off after her child.
END FLASHBACK
Tears filled Marguerite's eyes at the memory. She wasn't very happy that she had to live with Rodmilla all these years, when it was Rodmilla and her first husband who had torn her away from her true life. Marguerite wasn't her name at all. It was Marie.
She raised her head and looked at the Earl again. And she recognized his eyes. The caring eyes of her father. She was his child. His missing daughter.
Tears streamed down her face as she continued to stare at her true father until she could no longer hold back. "Papa!" she cried as she threw herself on his lap.
Michael smoothed her hair comfortingly. "It's alright, my child. I am here," he said in a comforting voice to her. He could see that she remembered who she truly was. His long-lost daughter. She had been found.
"Oh papa! I love you!" she cried through her sobs.
"Oh, my Marie, I love you too," Michael said in a comforting voice.
"Is mamma here?" Marguerite, now Marie, asked, raising her eyes from her father's lap.
"She is out in the gardens with the comtess," Michael told her.
"I want to see her, papa, please!" she cried through her tears.
"Of course," Michael said, rising from his chair and grasping his daughter's hand, pulling her up beside him.
The two walked out of the room and toward the door to the gardens. Thomas followed behind them with a smile on his face.
Danielle met them at the door with a smile on her face. She had heard the happy tears of her former stepsister as she realized who she truly was. She was Lady Marie de la Fere, not Marguerite de Ghent.
Danielle embraced Marie and both girls stepped out into the garden and walked down the path together to where the two mothers were sitting on a bench talking.
Tears spilled out as Marie saw her mother sitting there. The very mother from her forgotten memory. "Mama!"
"Marie! Oh my Marie!" Comtess Eleanor de la Fere exclaimed as she rose from the bench. "I would know you anywhere." She embraced her long-lost daughter warmly.
"Oh mama!" Marie cried as she held onto her mother. She could finally fell the love coming from her mother that she had wanted to feel all her life. The love that she had never felt from Rodmilla. And now she knew why. Rodmilla wasn't her mother, Comtess de la Fere was. She wasn't Marguerite de Ghent, she was Marie de la Fere.