Chapter 2: Drag

The trek on foot would've taken them a few hours under optimal circumstances. Having to keep off the road, it was twilight by the time they reached town and by this time Mrs. Dunmaglass was looking for somewhere inside to shelter in the earnest in case her son was recognised by a member of the occupying army. Claire was also looking for familiar faces, for different reasons, searching through the visibly quieter streets than they have been a week ago, rushing ahead, hoping to find someone back at the fateful house the MacKenzie brothers' fate was sealed before they could ever join in a battle. She pushed up the hill, her worries still fuelling her despite her hunger and the long walk afore, maddened by the possibility that there may be no one there at her destination to give her answers.

The town was indeed flooded with English soldiers, mostly wandering around informally rather than on any mission, in sharp difference to how they would only show themselves incognito before the battle. She avoided their eyes on a couple of occasions, but searched every face she encountered on the streets in detail otherwise, too enveloped in the task to notice the naturally occurring mudslide that often made the incline unsafe to hide without taking particular care.

"Claire? Are you alright?" It seemed like it was Mary Hawkins, or well, Mary Randall now, who was offering a hand to pull her out the mud, appearing from behind her, also trudging up the hill.

"Mary? You are still in town?" Claire wondered on turn, taking stock of the mud damage to her clothes. It will feel rather soggy and icky for a while, but once it will dry, she will be able to rub out most of the dirt.

"What are you doing here?" Mary took her by the arm and round her back, turning her slightly away from the group of redcoats flocking towards a drinking establishment at the other side of the street. "You are headed right towards Cumberland's headquarters." She questioned as they restarted their trek.

"Where have the taken residence?" The older of the two women looked at her confused.

"The very estate house the Jacobite leaders were at previously."

Claire shook her head to disregard the latest bad news, "have you seen any of Jamie's men? Jamie?" She hoped.

Mary shook her head sadly, "I'm sorry Claire, I haven't. I haven't had much contact with the Scots," she elaborated, which of course made sense. "But...maybe John will know something if you could get him to talk. If anyone can, it's you."

"John?" Claire stopped in her tracks to face her, "John is alive?" It felt like her heart had stopped too to accommodate for the possibility that maybe perhaps some historical things would be changed and then maybe there was hope for Jamie too.

Mary gave her version of a shy shrug, which was more like a frown and one shoulder moving up, "for the moment. The army surgeon was sure he will not survive his injuries. I have just been to arrange for last rites," she said dispirited. It seemed like administering laudanum and calling for a minister is all she had been doing lately.

"What kind of injuries are those?"

"Shot, in the stomach."

"Oh." A wound like that in the eighteenth century meant death after all. It was either that the historical records were wrong about the exact date or some minor factor changed to make him last a few days longer, but he would be dying as a result of the battle all the same.

"That is true, right? There is nothing that could be done," Mary pressed benevolently. Despite how he's reacted to his grief over losing his brother, to Mary he was still the kind relative who was the only one to provide for them, the one who married her only because his brother asked.

"Not likely," Claire agreed. Not as if she was going to break her back trying to help him, but she needed to see him nevertheless. "I will have a look," she heartened her.

"You should stay with us, at the boarding house. There aren't many dwellings not occupied by soldiers, but McGilvrey's was full to start with and could not offer more housing. You will need to stay somewhere now won't you, with none of your kin around."

"That would be helpful," the older of the two Englishwomen admitted, letting herself being turned into the direction mentioned, "thank you very much, Mary," she felt grateful in the earnest. She hadn't always treated the younger woman with the regard and kindness she deserved and was inclined to make amends. "I am very sorry, for everything," she squeezed the hand the newlywed had on her arm as they walked arm in arm.

Mary shook her head and pursed her lips, clearly battling with emotions that threatened to overwhelm. It was a while before she replied, "I understand now what you meant, with Alex being too sickly to provide for a family, but if I knew that to start with, I wouldn't change a thing, I would have still been here to take care of him while possible."

"I do not doubt it. I should've never made that decision for you, it wasn't my place. Not to mention that trying to change history is a futile task, I know that now." At Mary's confused look she added, "I said it was complicated and I shall explain it to you one day perhaps. In fact you deserve an explanation, though I am not sure you will believe it, it is not an ordinary story." Frank's existence seemed safe as things stood, so why not.

"I will have you know, I do not believe in witches," the young woman ascertained.

"What makes you say that?" Claire responded startled.

"There was a lot of gossip at Madame Rohan's," Mary lowered her voice, somewhat embarrassed. "But I know you, your kindness. Alex wouldn't let me think of you otherwise, even when I was upset you have broken us up. I know what life can throw now, I won't judge," she put forward.

"Oh, Mary," Claire felt the urge to hug the shorter woman. Mary might have been through quite a lot lately, but she still sounded relatively naïve. "We really need to talk. I don't feel comfortable accepting your kindness if you don't know everything."

"Alright," the baronet's daughter agreed, "but not now. I don't want to leave John alone for long. I know I can't help him, but it doesn't feel right, leaving him to his torturous pains, mortally wounded," she pulled at Claire's arm to hurry her.

Tbc