Chapter 10: Plans for Escape

Disclaimer: D. Gabaldon owns all rights to Outlander

"To bed with us? Really, Jamie… That's not as easy as it once was. I need another nappy first. Brianna is wet again."

Jamie grimaced, and pointing at the drawer, said, "There's nay more to be found in the dresser is there?"

"No, I imagine one secret revealed is enough."

As the weeks passed, Jamie became more enamored of our little one and less shy about holding her or rocking her while on his broad shoulder. I got in the habit of sneaking into our room, and up behind him, while he was thus occupied, a wan smile upon his face. There was no doubt in my mind that he would make an exceptional father, and my heart was imbued to overflowing with love for both of them. One day though, I sat, and staring down at my daughter, tears began to form in my eyes in remembrance of the other child that Jamie had no knowledge of. He would never get to hold her or coo to her as with Brianna.

Jamie walked in and noticed my tear-streaked face. "Sassenach, are ye cryin'?"

Wiping the wet drops away quickly, I forced a smile, and answered, "No, I was …"

"Aye, ye are. But why are ye?"

He hunkered down in front of me, eyes wide, and ears opened.

I swallowed hard. "Jamie, there's something I must tell you."

With furrows of concern stretched across his brow, he pleaded, "Ye're no leavin' me, are ye?"

"Good heavens, no. I could never do that. It's the reason I came back. You were the one who insisted I go through the stones and return to my own time. And now we're reaping the consequences."

I shook my head, trying to decide how to explain. After deliberating for a good couple of ticks, I exclaimed, "Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, where on earth do I start?"

"Anawhere ye wish, Claire."

Pointing across the room, I directed, "Alright, but pull up a chair. I can't abide you getting cramps in your legs from crouching for such an extended length of time."

Jamie stood and dragged the chair from the far corner, placing it catty-cornered to me. He sat down and leaned forward. "Out wi' it, now."

"I shall start at the point of Dougal collecting monetary support for Bonny Prince Charlie."

He let a long breath escape his lips. "That much is true, for my own back played a part in it. I suppose Dougal hoped the pitiful sight would extract more o' the king's shillin's from the folk."

I took his hand, being careful, not to disturb the baby asleep on my lap. "And it worked to his advantage, I dare say. But, Jamie, when I thwarted your plan to throw in with McGuire and his bunch, I saved you from torture inflicted by that odious creature, Randall. In the prior timeline—I guess you might say—your kin and I rescued you from Wentworth prison and a date with the noose. You were again being sought as an escaped prisoner, and for that reason, we traveled abroad to France. While there, we cavorted with the royal toffs at King Louis' court and thereby came in contact with Prince Charlie. We were there to prevent the war that was to come; instead, the arrogant fool enlisted your aid in his cause. Culloden was the battle that sealed the fate of your countrymen. Scotland would never be the same. Culture, sovereignty, all dissolved in one fell swoop. I imagine Dougal, Murtagh, Rupert, and Angus will all pay the price with their lives on that moor … yourself included."

"And that's why ye're cryin' aye?"

"That's only part of it. While we were in Paris, I was pregnant with another child … your child. I gave birth prematurely, due to unforeseen circumstances. Her name was Faith, but our little girl didn't survive." Blinking away tears again, I whimpered, "I suppose there will not even be a marker for her gravesite since it hasn't happened yet." I huffed in frustration. "Oh, blast it, this is absolutely mind-boggling."

"Stars and stones, are ye sayin' I was a father afore?"

Gazing into his eyes, I said, "Yes, and my biggest regret is that you'll never get to see her face."

"Did she have the red hair like our Brianna?"

"No, she took after me. Faith had dark hair. She had your eyes though."

He nodded, comprehending my words. "Ah …"

"Jamie, I can't bring back my dear Faith, but I can prevent your association with Prince Charlie, and perhaps Culloden will never come to pass. At least that's my hope."

He lifted me from the rocking chair, baby and all, and with his arms embracing us, said, "Dinna fash, Sassenach, all will be weel."

If only I could certain of that.

Rumor spread all the way to our home at Lallybroch that Dougal was still at it; siphoning money from the populace for the Jacobean cause. But was it really just a rumor? Even with Jamie's disfigured back as an enticement to donate, Dougal was determined to promote the Prince's ambition to gain the throne. Knowing the prince to be a foppish numpty with delusions of grandeur, I pitied the ones who overlooked his lack of talent and would propel him onto the dais simply because his blood was blue.

Would that he'd shed his own blood, and leave Scotland unscathed. Alas, the would-be monarch had no such intentions, and without a hint of conscience, send the Highlanders to their ultimate end. I doubted that an excursion to France now could rescind the debacle that was Culloden. And so, for the next thirty months, this sword of Damocles hung over my head, marring my happiness. Jamie, so far, had managed to stay clear of the skirmishes and battles that the foolish, little warmonger championed. I wished to keep it that way.

By now, Brianna was three years old, and the apple of her father's eye. Nothing seemed to escape the child, and she listened when we adults discussed the chaos surrounding us. One day, she looked up from playing with her doll, and yanked on the leg of Jamie's Breeks. He bent down and hoiked her up to his shoulder.

"Weel now, Bree, is somethin' troublin' ye?"

She patted his cheek, and asked, "Da, ye willna leave us, and go fight wi' those soldiers, will ye?"

"Nay, I canna do it. Yer mum, and yerself have need o' my protection here. I dinna see the sense o' fightin' for a losin' cause when I can be of use to Lallybroch."

Her tears began to flow. "Good … 'cuz I dinna want ye to die."

"I'm nay gonta die, Bree."

"But Mama said …"

He put her down, and explained, "Yer mum kens a bit o' thin's to come, but she warned me in time, so ye need no fash o'er it, mind? Now would ye like to sit on my lap and hear a story?"

She climbed up onto his lap, her arms about his neck. "What story?"

"'Bout how I met yer mum."

"Agin? Why canna ye tell me 'bout ye and Uncle Murtagh kilt that bluidy ol' boar."

I listened with interest at the entire conversation, but at the mention of the boar hunt, I yelled from the kitchen, "Jamie, no!"

Bree fired back, "Please, Mama, please."

Coming into the sitting room, while wiping my hands on a towel, I cautioned, "Jamie Fraser, that is not a fit tale to be told to a little girl."

"But I like it."

Flicking the towel, at my Scotty, I said, "Oh, very well, if you must." I gave Jamie the eye. "Can you please temper it a tad so as not to scare her to pieces?"

Brianna frowned, "Oh, Mama, I liketa be scairt."

Jenny appeared in the doorway, with her arms akimbo. "Claire, the bannocks are doon bakin'. If ye dinna mind, I can use yer help."

I hurried back to the kitchen, while looking over at the smug storyteller, and mumbled, "Definitely your daughter."

I frequently had access to information concerning the conflicts between the Highlanders and His Majesty's professional army. It was beginning to appear urgent that we flee to safety. I confronted my sweetheart with, "We need to leave, Jamie. It's time. Culloden is on the horizon, and I imagine Dougal will be sending word for you to come join them."

I finished changing into my night clothes and walked to the vanity to brush out my hair. Jamie had just removed his jerkin when I turned to him and said, "I'll let you explain our decision to Ian and Jenny."

He sat at the edge of the bed and began doffing his boots. "Will they be safe here, d'ye think?"

"I don't know, but it stands to reason that Ian can in no way be conscripted into Charlie's rag-tag, gang of rebels. He'd be of little use to them."

Picking up his boots, he placed them near the headboard. "I see as it's so. I'll go 'round on the morrow to tell them."

As we pitched hay to the cows, Ian said, "I willna go wi' ye, Jamie. I love ye like my own brother, but my home is here. I ken as Jenny will feel the same."

"Whether or no ye come wi' us, we havta be off. Claire thinks ye'll be fine if ye stay put. I only wished to offer ye our company when we go."

Leanin' on his pitchfork, Ian replied. "I thank ye for yer kind consideration, but ye needna worry 'bout us. We'd come thru worse times such as this. Leastwise, we'll no have the pleasure o' the Watch imposin' on our hospitality. I expect they're all in the fields scrappin' for the bonny prince, and they're welcome to it."

"I imagine there's truth in what ye say. I wish ye luck then."

Ian canted his head. "Och … I hear Jenny callin'. Breakfast is on the table. We'd best no be late. Ye ken how she can get."

"Nay, I've ne'er kent her to lose her temper."

We both laughed, and Ian slapped me on the back. One last heave o' the hay, and we then picked op the milk pails and trekked wi' them to the kitchen to keep my sister in good spirits.

Ireland, Guernsey, Isle of Skye? I wracked my brains, pondering where we should head. Oh bollox, Guernsey was very English. I didn't suppose the people there would approve of my choice of mate. Not Guernsey then. Ireland? Bloody hell, the Catholics and Protestants were warring constantly. I wanted to avoid war, not embroil ourselves into another one. I sighed, was there any place safe from swords and pistols?

I wondered if I should just spread a map out upon the wall, blindfold myself and throw a dart in its general direction.

Before our departure, the unexpected arrival of Murtagh cemented my resolve to follow Claire. He stood at the door, looked me straight in the eye, and said, "Dougal sent me. He says we need ye to lead the men on the field at Culloden."

"Nay, Sassenach and I willna stay here in Scotland. We're takin' our leave o' this place."

I leaned toward my godfather. "Claire says as ye all will die on that moor. Come wi' us, for, ye ken as what she predicts is the truth. The bonny prince is a fool, and this is a fool's errand. Dinna go there to fight, Murtagh, if ye wish to live."

Murtagh scratched at his beard. "What will I say to Dougal?"

"Nothin'. Because ye'll no go to him, ken?"

He shook his heid and looked down at his boots. "Och … it seems to me verra dishonorable."

Cockin' one eyebrow, I told him, "Better ye to be dishonorable alive, than honorable as a corpse, aye?"

"I ne'er backed away from a battle afore."

"Aye, but ye'll live to fight another day."

"I see yer point, lad. When d'we leave?"

"In three days hence."

"Can ye put me op for those days, then?"

"Oh, aye. Claire, nor Jenny, nor Ian will object."

"Alright, ye convinced me. So be it."