The Substitute’s Redemption

Standing in front of the mirror in an ill-fitting wedding dress, Jane studied her reflection and felt the corner of her lips twist into a wry smile.

“Sign this contract”.

Jane caught the document that her father, Peter Harrison, tossed at her. Her eyes traveled to the bottom of the page where her husband-to-be’s signature stared back at her: Ethan Harrington.

The handwriting was neat as though in fine print but the pen had been gripped with enough force for the ink to have bled through the other side of the paper.

“You’ll be well taken care of as his wife but…”, he warned, “… you’d better behave”.

An edge crept into his voice like the hints of a dark cloud looming over the horizon.

“Think about what will happen to your grandmother if you ruin everything”.

It should have been Stacy in her place, Jane thought. But Stacy didn’t want to marry a man on the verge of death — why would she?

She had fled just a few hours before her wedding but to tell the groom’s family would be nothing short of insulting, even humiliating, which was why her father had — rather callously— threatened Jane with her grandmother’s life to coerce her into taking Stacy’s place.

And so to protect her grandmother, Jane found herself dressed in a wedding gown that had belonged to another woman; the bride to be of the sickly eldest son of the Harrington family.

Her father might insist that it was a privilege to be in her shoes but Jane knew better. If she were truly all that lucky, why did Stacy run away in the first place?

“You’re right”, Jane replied.

“Thank you for your reminder, if not, the small matter of me becoming the matriarch of the Harrington family would have slipped my mind completely. Although… correct me if I’m wrong but my new status would make it incredibly easy to punish those who try to hurt me, wouldn’t it?”

Her father’s expression changed instantly.

Jane raised her head to look him in the eye, all demure and innocent.

“So don’t hurt my grandmother. She’s the only family I have left after all, if something happens to her, I can’t imagine what I’d be capable of”.

“You…”, Peter seethed. He opened his mouth as if to hurl more verbal abuse at her but at that moment, a staff member came to inform them that it was time for the bride to take her place.

Clamping down his fury, Peter smoothed his expression and brusquely escorted her into full view of the guests.

Slowly she made her way to the center. The veil hid her face from the sea of guests around her but it failed to block their whispers and snickers.

“Who would have thought that even a sickly whelp like Ethan Harrington would find himself a bride?”

“I hear he’s practically on his deathbed and he’s only marrying the Harrisons’ daughter to improve his luck and prolong his life.”

“The Harrisons? Their brazen hussy of a daughter? I heard she was throwing herself at a man she met at a party not long ago. Young Master Ethan must be begging to be cuckolded”.

“Speaking of which, the bride’s a little on the skinny side, isn’t she? She can barely hold up that gown of hers… if you catch my meaning”.

With each step, Jane ignored the murmurs of the throng, her gaze fixed on the man in the wheelchair in front of her. A mask covered the bottom half of his face but his eyebrows were set in two gentle lines.

Sporadically, he would let out a cough or two, his fists clenching in a valiant attempt to control himself and avoid disrupting the wedding but he only succeeded in making himself cough harder.

It went in for so long that Jane couldn’t help but wonder if he would even survive the wedding. I would enter a bride and leave a widow, she thought humorlessly.

Peter must have been afraid that the wretched, pitiful noises tearing from her husband-to-be’s chest were the result of some kind of infectious disease.

After placing Jane’s hand into Ethan’s, he wasted no time in covering his nose and hurrying off.

The pastor began reciting the ceremonial vows. He asked Jane, “Do you agree to take this man as your husband, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, from this day till your last?”

Did she really have a choice when she had already signed the marriage contract?

She rolled her eyes behind the veil, “I do”.

The pastor repeated the question to the groom who responded with several violent coughs before mustering up the strength to say “I do”.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife, you may now kiss the bride”.

No sooner than he had uttered the words did a look of mortification spread across the pastor’s face. If simply swearing his vows had been such an impossible feat, surely this wheelchair-ridden man wasn’t capable of sharing a kiss with his bride.

He was about to rescind what he had said when Jane bent down and lifted her veil over her husband’s head, shielding them both from view.

It was said that two became one beneath a wedding veil. Jane had been prepared for this moment ever since she donned her gown.

She might have been forced into this position by her father to ward off the Harrington family’s outrage but she needed the power of the Harrington family name to keep her grandmother safe. The longer her husband lived, the better.

Jane pulled down his mask, revealing the lower half of his face which was decorated in a pattern of hideous scars. The sight was repulsive — horrifying, even — but Jane pretended not to notice.

“The ceremony is completed, the contract has been signed”, she said keeping her face neutral.

“We are husband and wife now. What you cannot do alone, I can help you with”.

Without the mask to conceal his visage, she could see Ethan Harrington’s features creasing in a slight frown, presumably at not being given the chance to speak.

But then he took in her words and she caught the hints of a glimmer in his eye.

On the surface, Jane was calm but her palms were sticky with sweat. She had never been this close to a man before and now she would have to be the one to lean in, to press her lips to his, someone who was a stranger…

Best get it over with quickly.

Summoning her will, Jane shut her eyes and planted a kiss on his thin lips before pulling his mask back in place and rising to her feet.

Ethan was startled by her brisk, businesslike actions. His gaze narrowed, simmering with unreadable depths. Had this woman really just kissed him so boldly?

He had thought she would be scared or at least disgusted by the scars on his face but she had merely glanced at it, hardly giving any indication of noticing anything out of the ordinary.

As Jane rose, her veil swept off his head but her scent, faint though it was, lingered. He let his eyes slide down, on the inside however, he was filled with a new burning certainty.

This woman was not Stacy.

Ethan was in poor health and no activities followed the wedding ceremony. His butler, Bruce, helped push his wheelchair to bring him home to his mansion.

Jane and Ethan sat together in the backseat of his car. The sun streamed through the windows, illuminating the side of Ethan’s face. His lashes were long and thick, and the slope of his nose was high and straight.

The burns had ruined half his features but from where they now sat, shrouded in the shadows, the unmarked half of his face was flawless — a work of perfection, gilded by the sun’s rays.

It was as though he were half an angel and half a demon.

Without warning, her husband turned his head to her. Jane didn’t have time to avert her gaze. Their eyes met and she felt a twinge of embarrassment at having been caught staring.

Ethan reached out a hand and grazed the spotless white fabric of her veil.

“Aren’t you going to take this off?”, he reminded her, chuckling.

There had been rumors that his wounds had made him irritable with an erratic temper, it seemed they weren’t true after all.

Tilting her head towards him, she asked tentatively, “Will you help me?”

She had only been half-expecting him to agree, but with a hint of playfulness, he brushed the veil back from her face then lingered to tuck her slightly ruffled locks behind her ear.

Despite the cold sensation of his touch, Jane noted how gentle his actions were. His temper is much better than I imagined, she mused. Maybe being his wife won’t be so bad after all.

“What’s your name?”, he asked unexpectedly.

“Me?” Jane laughed, trying to cover up her surprise.

“I’m Stacy, you know that”.

Ethan fixed her with a piercing, intent look, like a physical weight in her chest was pinning her to her seat. But in the next instant, there was only gentleness in his eyes and she wondered if that fleeting sense of suffocation had been her imagination.

She knew he wouldn’t believe her, even if he did, she would not be able to continue such a lie like it was nothing. He would eventually find out one way or another.

With a shake of her head, Jane turned to face him and took his hands in hers.

“Alright, allow me to properly introduce myself then. My name is Jane, Jane Fitzergald, your new lawfully wedded wife”.

“Fitzergald? You’re not a Harrison?”

Jane shook her head again, “It doesn’t matter who I am, all you need to know is that Stacy didn’t want to marry you… but I do”.

Ethan nodded then leaned back in his seat. His brows furrowed, as if from weariness.

Jane stared at him in silent disbelief. That was it? Wasn’t he acting… a little too calm?

She eyed him for a while longer but his exhaustion must have been contagious. She decided to follow suit, allowing herself to drift to sleep in the backseat of the car.

*. *. *. *. *.

After they had alighted from the car and he was pushing Ethan to his chambers, Bruce asked, “Young Master, do you want me to send this woman back home? As a warning to the Harrisons?”

The Harrison family had truly gone too far, picking some woman off the streets to play the role of the bride during the wedding today. How could they let such disrespect for Young Master Ethan slide?

Ethan’s eyes were gentle, without a hint of anger and his voice held no weight to it; he appeared extremely frail.

“Never mind that. Sometimes, mistakes are not necessarily bad things”.

Bruce protested, “But you’re…

Ethan lifted a hand and Bruce fell silent. Jane was right, it didn’t matter which family his wife came from — only that she had married him out of her free will.

“Let me see the marriage contract”.

After confirming that Jane had indeed signed the contract with her own name and not under Stacy Harrison, he returned it to Bruce.

“Use this to prepare the marriage certificate”.

Bruce was shocked, “Young Master, we don’t even know who this woman is or where she came from. Do you really want her for a wife?”

A marriage certificate was more than just a piece of paper. If this woman harbored any harmful secrets or any schemes, she could walk away with half of the Young Master’s fortune anytime she wished — hundreds of millions of dollars at that!

Bruce was about to insist that his Young Master rethink his decision when there was a noise at the door.

Warily, he opened the door only to find Jane standing there. The young woman’s gown was too loose for her shape but her features were delicate, fine, pretty and behind her rosebud mouth, her teeth were pearly white.

So this was why his Young Master was refusing to send back his substitute bride?

The little temptress. Bruce was unable to prevent a flash of disdain across his face.

“The Young Master needs to rest. You…”