25 October, 1769

River Run, North Carolina

ARCHIE POV

The wagon bumped along the road as it approached River Run. Murtagh was asleep in the back, so Archie had taken over the reins and Caoimhe sat beside him. "When do ye think we should return te the Ridge? 'Tis sick season, there'll be many in need of a healer," Caoimhe said to him, and he shrugged.

"I'd like te stay at least until Hogmanay. 'Tis quite a journey, and I dinnae want te leave Bree or Maevis alone here until they're more comfortable," Archie answered her.

"Aye, suppose yer right," said Caoimhe with a soft sigh. "I feel as if I should have stayed, at least until it gets closer te… their time."

"Yer needed here, Caoimhe. Ye heard Mama before we left, they need te have an eye kept on them in these early days," Archie told her. "Dinnae fash. I ken yer worrit aboot the settlers, but they'll be all right. What do ye think they did before they came here?"

"Aye, I ken," said Caoimhe with a heavy sigh.

"Can we stop? I really need te… ye ken," said Brèagha from behind them.

"We're nearly there," Archie told them, turning around to look at her, and she sighed.

"We're going slow enough that you might be able to go and catch up to us," said Maevis, who was sat beside Lizzie, but Brèagha didn't seem the slightest bit amused. "So… What's Aunt Jocasta like?" Both Caoimhe and Archie snorted.

"Well… Mama isnae overly fond of her," Archie replied. "She… can be a bit brash."

"A bit? She's been tryin' te find me a husband ever since we first met two years ago," Caoimhe told them, turning to look at her cousins.

"She'd best no' find me one. I already have one," said Brèagha, and Archie snorted again. "What? I do!"

"Aye, ye do, and he's the reason Mama and Da are on their way te Indians kent fer aggression," Archie told her, and Brèagha huffed.

"If Da didnae beat everra man he came across like a savage-"

"Hey, is that the house? Wow, that's gorgeous!" Maevis exclaimed, stopping the discussion before it got out of hand again. Brèagha and Archie had been arguing back and forth throughout the entire journey, which was five days long. Maevis, Ginnie, Lizzie and Murtagh hadn't been able to escape their squabbles, which quickly grew into shouting matches. Now that River Run was so close, Maevis couldn't wait to escape her older siblings' arguments.

"Oi, Murtagh," Archie said, turning around to shake Murtagh's leg, and he snored loudly and was startled awake. "We're here, auld man."

"Bawbag," Murtagh growled at him, sitting up. When the wagon arrived, Argus, the slave owned by Jocasta who functioned as a groom, took the horse by the reigns as Archie and Murtagh hopped down from the wagon.

"Thank ye, Argus. Good te see ye again," Archie told him, patting the man on the shoulder while Murtagh assisted the girls down from the wagon.

"Good day to you, Master Fraser," said Argus. "Shall I send for Mister Geordie to take your things inside?"

"Geordie's still here?" Archie asked him, raising a brow. "Er… Aye, and maybe Atticus te help."

"Yessir, Master Fraser," said Argus.

"I'll see te introductions," said Murtagh, climbing the steps to the house.

"Are ye both all right te… climb the stairs?" Archie asked his younger sisters, who both looked at him funny.

"I'm fine," Brèagha told him a bit sharply.

"I… I'm all right, too," Maevis told him, smiling a little, and then she bent down to look at Ginnie. "Do you want to go inside, Ginnie?"

"Ya!" said little Ginnie, taking Maevis's hand. Archie climbed the steps to the porch as Murtagh knocked on the door, and Archie came up behind him and tugged on the rope, which rang a bell inside.

"Ye have te ring the bell. They dinnae hear ye knockin' in a house this big," Archie teased him, and he scoffed.

"A house this big… Ye dinnae need bells in houses. If ye didnae need them in castles, ye dinnae need them in houses," said Murtagh bitterly as the door opened, revealing Ulysses, and Murtagh was slightly taken aback by how big Ulysses was.

"May I help you, sir?" said Ulysses, who saw Murtagh first, and then his face changed when he saw Archie. "Ah, Master Fraser. Have you come to see your aunt?"

"Aye, we have, and we have a letter from my father fer my aunt," said Archie in response, giving Ulysses the letter and turning to look at his sisters and Caoimhe. "I've also come wi' my sisters."

"I see," said Ulysses, looking at the Fraser girls. "Mistress Cameron is with company, but I shall take you to her."

"Thank ye, Ulysses," said Archie, and the group followed him into the house.

"I havenae seen Mistress Cameron in years, no' since she was much younger," Murtagh muttered quietly to Archie.

"When was tha'? 1562?" Archie asked him, earning a glare from Murtagh.

"…and I do hope that you will do us the honour of attending my daughter's wedding," came a male voice from the parlour, causing the group to stop in their tracks as Ulysses went on.

"I look forward te it," said Aunt Jocasta in response to the man.

"She will be of age on the thirtieth of November and the wedding will be the following Sunday. We look forward to your attendance immensely," said the man.

"Oh, how wonderful," said Aunt Jocasta as Ulysses entered the parlour, clearing his throat. "What is it, Ulysses?"

"A letter, Mistress, from your nephew, written in his own hand. It comes in the company of your great-nephew," Ulysses told her, and Archie made his way to the doorway.

"Aye, hello, Auntie," said Archie, freezing when he saw that the man she was speaking to was Mr. Ainsley. "Er… Hello, Mr. Ainsley."

"Mr. Fraser," said Mr. Ainsley, turning his nose up at Archie.

"I… understand yer daughter is te be wed, sir. Ye… have my congratulations," Archie said to him a bit awkwardly.

"How very kind of you, sir," said Mr. Ainsley. "I see that you have company, Mistress Cameron. I do not wish to take away any more of your time with your great-nephew."

"Will ye not stay for tea, Mr. Ainsley? My great-nephew, Archie, is a verra fine lad," Aunt Jocasta told him.

"Oh, I am afraid I cannot, Mistress Cameron. I have a meeting with my soon-to-be son-in-law," said Mr. Ainsley, standing up. "I do thank you for the offer, and I look forward to your attendance at the wedding."

"I am lookin' forward te attendin'," Aunt Jocasta said. "Ulysses, will ye accompany Mr. Ainsley te his carriage?"

"Yes, Mistress," said Ulysses, leading Mr. Ainsley out the door.

"He only wishes me te attend so I may grant his family a lavish gift, I am certain of it," Aunt Jocasta said with a smile, and then she held out her hands to Archie. "Come, nephew. I am glad of yer company."

"I'm happy te be here as well, Auntie," said Archie, taking one of his aunt's hands and kissing it politely.

"What brings ye here?" she asked him.

"Well, the letter I gave Ulysses will tell ye," Archie told her. "But while we wait, I… want te introduce ye te someone."

"Oh? Who?" Aunt Jocasta asked, her eyes wide with curiosity.

"My sisters," Archie told her. "Bree, Maevis…" Brèagha and Maevis, upon hearing their names, entered the parlour.

"Oh! Ye've come from Barra, have ye, lass?" Aunt Jocasta said. "'Tis a pleasure te meet ye. I've heard much aboot ye from yer parents. Brèagha, was it?"

"Aye, Auntie. 'Tis a pleasure te finally meet ye as well," said Brèagha, approaching and taking Jocasta's hand.

"Och, ye've such fine hands! Are ye an artist?" Aunt Jocasta asked her.

"Aye, I am," Brèagha told her with a smile.

"And my younger sister has come as well," said Archie, referring to Maevis.

"It's wonderful to meet you, Aunt Jocasta," said Maevis, approaching Jocasta as well.

"Oh! What a surprise! I didnae ken ye had another sister, Archie!" Jocasta exclaimed. "Come te me, dear. My eyesight isnae so good these days." Maevis accepted her outstretched hand, and Jocasta patted her hand lightly. "You've the hands of yer mother. Are ye a healer as well?"

"You can tell that from my hands? That's amazing," said Maevis with amusement. "I… I'm learning from my mother."

"Ye'll make a fine healer, ye will," Aunt Jocasta told her. "Speakin' of healers, is Caoimhe here as well?"

"Aye, she is," said Archie, gesturing for Caoimhe to join them.

"It's good te see ye again, Auntie," said Caoimhe, accepting Jocasta's hand in hers as Ulysses returned to the parlour. "Ah, Ulysses. I can hear his steps - Ulysses has the most distinctive tread here at River Run. Have ye a letter fer me?"

"Yes, Mistress," said Ulysses.

"Well, read it, please," Jocasta told him.

"Mistress," said Ulysses, unfolding the letter to read it. "It says, 'This letter is carried to you by my godfather, Murtagh Fitzgibbons Fraser'."

"Murtagh?" asked Jocasta, looking quite surprised. "Is… Is it you?"

"Aye, 'tis," said Archie, looking up at Murtagh. "Well, dinnae linger there in the entryway."

"Oh, blessed Bride, come closer, Murtagh!" Aunt Jocasta exclaimed, holding out a hand to him. Without saying anything, Murtagh quietly approached her, kneeling down in front of her and placing his hand in hers. "Oh… Oh, aye. I'd ken those hands anywhere… They told ye, no doubt, that my eyes have long failed me?"

"Aye, they have," Murtagh answered her, and Aunt Jocasta smiled. "Ye must have… taken careful note of my hands te recall them after years have passed." Archie's eyes widened a bit and he looked at his sisters and cousin.

"How could I not?" Jocasta asked him with a chuckle. "Ye could hardly keep them from my sister everra day of her young life. Everra time I looked at her, there ye were wi' a hand held out te help her, or wi' flowers in them fer her."

"Little good it did me in the end," said Murtagh with amusement.

"Christ," said Archie, and Aunt Jocasta's cheeks turned red.

"Oh, goodness," she said, clearly remembering that her nieces and nephew were present. "I see ye have accompanied my nieces and nephew from Fraser's Ridge?"

"Aye, I have," said Murtagh.

"And what else does this letter convey, Ulysses?" Jocasta asked him.

"It… says that my sister and I are with child and unmarried, and it asks that you look after us despite the mark it might bring to your good name, while our parents search for the man to whom Brèagha has been handfast, who may or may not be dead… more or less," Maevis chimed in, surprising Jocasta a bit.

"That… is about the extent of it, Mistress," said Ulysses as he went over the contents of the letter.

"Oh… My sweet girls," said Jocasta, holding out her hands to them again. "Come here close te me. Of course ye may stay with us. Ye dear, sweet girls…"

"Ye ken, Jocasta… Brèagha is the spit of Ellen," Murtagh said to her, smiling a little as he looked at Brèagha.

"Oh, is it true?" asked Jocasta, turning her head to where she thought Brèagha was.

"So I've been told," Brèagha replied with a soft smile, and Jocasta let go of Maevis's hand to lightly touch Brèagha's face, smiling a little.

"Ye feel like her," she said. "Ye have the Mackenzie bone structure… and bonny red curls, too, I imagine. Oh, ye truly do look like her."

"Do I? I've only ever seen one portrait of her, at Lallybroch," Brèagha told her.

"She was verra bonny, so I imagine ye are, as well, my dear girl," Jocasta told her. "Gosh, ye all must be so tired. Ulysses, show them te their rooms, will ye? Have we enough fer all of my nieces, my nephew and our guest?"

"We have plenty of room, Mistress," Ulysses told her.

"Och, I dinnae need te stay," Murtagh chimed in.

"Nonsense! I'll be glad te hear of our time apart," Jocasta told him with interest.


While Archie was washing shaven hair off of his face, there was a soft knock at the door. "Come in," Archie called, and the door opened to reveal Maevis, who smiled lightly at him.

"Hey, Archie," she said. "Phaedra said this was your room, when you stay."

"Aye, I dinnae think I've stayed in another," said Archie, smiling at her in the mirror, but she didn't look too happy. "Are ye all right, a' phiuthrag?"

"What's that mean?" Maevis asked him, raising a brow.

"'Little sister'," Archie told her, drying his face and turning to face her. "Is everrathin' well?"

"Everything's fine," said Maevis, but then she sighed softly and closed the door. "I just… I'm worried about Rory. You know, he… He's never really… experienced anything like what he's going through now. He never did sports in school, he's never been in a fight…"

"I'm sure he'll be all right, Maevis," Archie told her, sitting down on the bed while watching her.

"I hope so," she replied. "All this is just… so unfortunate. Lizzie won't stop apologising, but she didn't mean any harm. I know she didn't. Brèagha's still being rude to her, too."

"Still? I can have a word wi' her," Archie told her.

"You mean another one? I don't think she's going to listen," said Maevis, sighing again. "This shouldn't have happened…" She glanced down, resting one hand on her growing belly. "None of this should have happened."

"Aye," said Archie, his eyes following her hands. "I feel shame tha' I didnae look harder fer ye. I could have stopped tha' bastard."

"And then we'd both probably be dead," Maevis told him. "He wasn't alone, you know. There were… other men, too." Archie raised a brow at her.

"Did any of them touch ye as well?" he asked her.

"Oh, no," she replied. "No, it… it was just Stephen Bonnet."

"Hmph. Bonnet," said Archie with a scowl. "Tha' bastard's taken so much from us… He'd best hope I dinnae cross paths wi' him again because I will kill him."

"I'd be glad to help you," Maevis replied. "Enough about him. I always get so angry when I think of him… So, that Mr. Ainsley downstairs. He's the father of this Clara Ainsley?"

"What?" Archie asked her with wide eyes. "How do you ken aboot her?"

"Caoimhe likes to make fun of you," said Maevis, smiling and chuckling lightly.

"Christ," said Archie. "She needs te learn te keep her mouth shut. Clara's te be marrit in December, now, and if Caoimhe starts somethin', it… it could ruin it fer her."

"But… that wouldn't be such a bad thing, would it?" Maevis asked, and Archie's eyebrow raised curiously.

"Fer her, aye, it would be," Archie replied. "She's set te marry a wealthy man. She'll never want fer anythin', any children she'll have willnae ken starvation, willnae have te feel the cold, will always have a good physician on hand te tend te them… All things that I couldnae give her."

"You can give her those things. You have Mama, who is a good physician. I know it's hard to make sense of and all, but doctors in the future have much better training than they do now. She's probably the greatest doctor this time's ever seen because of it. And as for everything else… I know you'd give her everything you can," Maevis told him.

"No," he said. "She'd be livin' rough, and in a small home, forced te cook and clean, all things she'll have never done before. She's better off wi' Underwood, and I'll no' say anythin' further on the subject."

"But-" A knock at the door interrupted Maevis, thankfully.

"Come in," Archie said, and the door opened to reveal Phaedra.

"Miss Jo wishes te speak with you, Miss Fraser," Phaedra said to Maevis.

"Oh… All right," said Maevis, looking at her brother again. "I guess I'll… see you at dinner, Archie." He nodded to her, not verbally answering, and Phaedra curtsied to him before following Maevis out the door and closing it behind her.

"She isnae wrong, ye ken." Archie closed his eyes in annoyance and sighed heavily.

"No' you, too, Granny. I dinnae want te hear it," said Archie, turning to see her sitting on his bed behind him. "Clara will marry George Underwood, and she'll be better fer it. I cannae give her the sort of life she was born fer."

"Maybe it isnae the life she asked fer," Granny told him, and Archie sighed again.

"It's too late te do anythin'. She's engaged te George Underwood, and tha's that," he told her. "Now, if ye dinnae mind… I'd like a bath."


MAVEIS POV

Maevis followed Phaedra to another room and was admitted by Aunt Jocasta, who was seated on a settee in front of the fireplace. "Miss Maevis for ye, Miss Jo," said Phaedra, curtsying despite Aunt Jocasta not being able to see her.

"Thank ye, Phaedra. If ye dinnae mind leavin' me and my niece, I'll ring fer ye when I need ye," said Jocasta, dismissing Phaedra.

"You, um… wanted to see me, Aunt Jocasta?" Maevis asked her, wondering what on earth Jocasta wanted with her.

"Come sit, my dear girl," said Jocasta, patting the empty seat on the settee beside her, and quietly, Maevis sat down. Jocasta then reached for her hands, feeling them with her own. "Ye can tell a lot aboot someone by their hands. I see yers are calloused, but yer skin isnae thick. Ye havenae tended te a farm fer long."

"I… spent some time at Lallybroch and didn't really do too many things," Maevis told her. "I fed chickens and goats, but… Aunt Jenny has a lot of children, so the tasks were split fairly evenly."

"Tha's good. 'Tis a mark of a lady te have fine hands," Jocasta told her. "Though not many a fine lady finds herself in yer… situation." Ah, there it was. "Yer sister claims te be handfast, and handfast is a marriage in the eyes of God. She has reason te be wi' child, but you do not. For what reason do ye find yerself wi' child, dear girl?" Archie was right - she was quite blunt.

"I… I was raped," Maevis told her softly. "In Wilmington…"

"Oh, poor dear… How horrible of a situation," Jocasta said to her, clearly disturbed by this. "I shall do my duty as yer auntie and find ye a husband."

"What?" Maevis asked, her eyes widening, and she pulled her hands from Jocasta's. "I don't want a husband."

"Nonsense, ye'll be needin' one in yer condition, dear," Jocasta told her, and Maevis scoffed, standing up.

"I do not need a husband. I don't want a husband. I… I'll be perfectly fine on my own!" Maevis snapped at her.

"Ye dinnae expect yer parents te care fer ye and another man's bairn, do ye?" Jocasta asked her. "Ye must find a husband, and if yer father were here, he would be findin' ye one, as well."

"I told him the same thing. I'm not getting married," Maevis told her, turning on her heel and making for the door.

"I'll be hostin' a wee gatherin' soon," Jocasta said, stopping her in her tracks. "Perhaps ye and yer sister will change yer minds." Maevis only scoffed in response. How could Jocasta be so cold and… and brash? How dare she assume what Maevis needed or even wanted? So what if women in the eighteenth century weren't expected to be single mothers, and so what if people thought she was a whore because she had a child out of wedlock? Maevis knew the truth, and so did her family, and to her, that was all that mattered. Jocasta would not be marrying her off to some strange man.


30 October, 1769

ARCHIE POV

A few days had passed, and it seemed that Brèagha and Maevis were not quite on speaking terms with each other. Archie observed them taking tea or reading in the parlour together, but neither of them would speak, and when Archie tried to engage them in conversation, Brèagha would make some sort of remark about Maevis. "She blames me for Rory being sent to the Mohawk," Maevis explained to him. "It isn't my fault that Lizzie made a mistake."

"Had ye been more careful, perhaps ye wouldnae have been raped and Rory wouldnae have been accused," Brèagha said back to her sharply, and Archie sighed. There was nothing worse than two young hormonal pregnant women who were worried about the same man for different reasons and blamed each other for his current predicament.

"Been more careful? If that asshole had been a decent human being and hadn't made the conscious decision to rape me, I wouldn't be in this predicament! It's not my fault!" Maevis snapped back at her.

"Not yer fault? Ye put yerself right in front of him! He baited ye wi' that ring and ye went off into a private room wi' him! He probably thought ye were a whoore! Well, 'thought' bein' used liberally…" Brèagha replied, and Maevis gasped at her remark.

"Maybe if you didn't marry Rory and fuck him, he would still be here, too! How dare you just go off and marry him like that?" Maevis demanded from her.

"He asked me!" Brèagha shouted back at her. Desperate for peace from the tension between the two sisters, Archie left the house and went to check up on the overseers for Aunt Jocasta, as it would keep him out until dark. He'd miss dinner, but that was all right - Jocasta was pissing them off, too, by vowing to marry them off to bachelors from Cross Creek. He passed the sawmill, trying to ignore the horror that had occurred inside now two years before, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a noise. It sounded like the leaves had rustled and he whipped around half expecting to see another ghost, but there was no one there. Samhain was approaching, which meant that the veil between worlds was rapidly thinning. There were probably spirits that had already come through, and Archie hoped to God they would just leave him alone.

Another rustle, and suddenly, his horse became startled by something and threw Archie onto the ground, neighing furiously and galloping off. "Bastard!" Archie called after it, groaning in pain as he laid on the ground. His shoulder, which he had landed on, was immensely sore, and when he sat up, he realised that it had been dislocated from its socket. He let out a huff, using his other arm to push himself up to stand and then trying to shift his arm back into place. "Damn horse…"

"Are ye all right?"

"AGH!" Archie cried, jumping with fright, and he turned around to see what looked like Auntie Saoirse in the moonlight. She looked… different. She looked much more lively, and her cheeks were no longer gaunt and pale. She was not dressed in a blood-soaked shift, and her fair hair was done up neatly. She was dressed as if she were walking about Cìosamul Castle tending to the children or doing her duties that she had taken on after Grandmother died. It surprised Archie that she was looking so well… Had something happened that released her from that purgatory-like state?

"Oh, sorry, a stór! I dinna know how te not startle ye so…" she said to him, genuinely apologetic.

"It's… it's fine, Auntie," Archie said to her, catching his breath.

"Ye've hurt your arm?" she asked him, lightly touching his shoulder, and it only felt like he was being touched - there was no warmth, nor was there a chill.

"Aye," Archie told her. "But I'll be fine. Auntie, ye look… different…" He took note of her appearance underneath the moonlight, and she smiled slightly at him.

"Yes, well… I was sort of trapped between worlds. I've finally been able te cross the veil," Auntie Saoirse told him. "Anyway, I've come because something isna right. I don't know what, but I need ye to check on Caoimhe."

"Check on Caoimhe? What fer?" Archie asked her with confusion, but she shook her head.

"I don't know, Archie, but I'm tellin' ye, somethin' isna right," she told him. "Please, a stór, will ye check on her? I canna do it." Archie sighed slightly, looking back in the direction his horse had gone.

"All right… But it'll be at least an hour before I even get back te…" He turned back to look at her, but she was gone, and he sighed. "…te River Run, which I guess I'll be doin' all on my own." It was a long walk, and now he was in great pain, so he started on the path back to the house. It took quite a while, and when he arrived, Grant, another servant who tended to the door when Ulysses was with Aunt Jocasta, greeted him.

"Good evenin', Master Fraser," said Grant to Archie, who nodded to him.

"Good evenin', Grant," Archie told him as he entered the house.

"Are ya hurt, Master Fraser?" Grant asked him.

"I'll be fine, I need te see my cousin, anyway," Archie told him, waving him off, and then he climbed the stairs. "Somethin's wrong wi' Caoimhe… Nothin's ever wrong wi' Caoimhe. Caoimhe's like a bleedin' stone. She killed two people, fer Christ's sake," he muttered to himself as he approached her door, and then he knocked. "Caoimhe? It's Archie, are ye all right?" No answer, so he knocked again. "Caoimhe?"

"I'm fine, Archie," she said from the other side, a bit muffled.

"Go inside," said Auntie Saoirse beside him, causing him to jump, and he let out a low growl.

"Please stop doin' that," he told her.

"Sorry. Just go," Auntie replied, and Archie sighed, knocking again.

"I ken somethin's amiss, Caoimhe, and I'll no' be goin' away until ye open the door. Besides, I need yer help. My horse threw me and my shoulder's dislocated," Archie told her. For a minute, she didn't answer, so Archie knocked again. "Caoimhe?" The door opened, and Caoimhe's face looked a bit puffy as she wiped her eyes dry with a handkerchief and sniffled.

"Come in," she told him meekly, stepping aside to let him in.

"Caoimhe… What's happened?" Archie asked her, but she shook her head.

"Dinnae worry aboot it. Let me tend te yer arm," she replied, ushering him in. "Have a seat by the fire."

"I'm goin' te worry. Yer my cousin, Caoimhe - ye might as well be my sister," Archie told her, and she sighed.

"I appreciate it, but I'm fine," she said. "Take this off, will ye?" She assisted him in sliding his coat off of his arm, which was no painless task. She also assisted him in removing his shirt so she could feel the joint without any barriers. "Definitely dislocated. Ye said yer horse threw ye?"

"Aye, she became startled. Probably… saw a stone, thought it was a snake," said Archie, looking up at Auntie Saoirse, who was standing by the hearth. "Or a ghost. All Hallows' Eve is tomorrow."

"Ghosts," said Caoimhe, scoffing lightly. "As if such a thing existed."

"Ye dinnae believe in them?" Archie asked her. "I was right by the sawmill, ye ken, when it happened."

"And ye think yer horse saw Lissa Garver? Somehow, I doubt it. Ye ken what they say aboot women who rid themselves of their children," Caoimhe told him, pulling his arm out and jerking it so it popped back into place, and Archie hissed in pain.

"Warn me, willnae ye?" he demanded from her.

"Then it would have hurt more," she replied, helping him put his shirt back on and then positioning his arm in a sling. "Ye'll need te rest this fer aboot a week. I'll make ye some willow bark tea and give ye some salve fer the pain." She rang the bell, sending for a servant, and asked them to bring her some hot water for tea. While they waited, Archie watched her putter about, and Auntie Saoirse cleared her throat.

"Ask her," she said to him, and Archie wanted to reply, but didn't want Caoimhe to think he was mad, so he only made a face at her before looking back at Caoimhe.

"Tell me what's on yer mind," Archie told her.

"Ask her if it was a night terror. She used te get those when she was little," Saoirse chimed in.

"Was it a night terror? I… remember ye used te get them when ye were wee," Archie told her, and she sighed softly.

"Somethin' like that," she replied softly.

"Ask her if it was the shadow man," Saoirse told him.

"Was it the shadow man?" Archie asked her, and she scoffed lightly.

"The shadow man was never a real danger," she told him. "No… This monster was real, unfortunately. Wait, how do ye ken aboot the shadow man?" She turned to look at him, one brow raised at him curiously.

"Ye told me aboot him when ye were wee," Archie replied, looking at Saoirse, who shrugged. "Was it Mrs. Abernathy? The Reverend?"

"No, neither of them," Caoimhe replied.

"Then… who?" Archie asked her, but she didn't answer him. "Caoimhe… Whatever it is, ye cannae keep this bottled up inside ye. It'll eat ye alive. Please… Ye can tell me. I'm here fer ye."

"Ye willnae believe me," she told him, and Archie glanced at Saoirse's spirit in the corner of the room.

"Oh, trust me, there's no' much I dinnae believe, these days," Archie replied, looking at his cousin again. "C'mon, try me. Whatever ye say, I promise I'll believe ye." At first, she said nothing, only turning around to look back at the journal she had open in front of her, and then she sighed.

"It was… a long time ago. I was eleven. It was after Grandsire died, and Daddy was fightin' wi' Captain Reynolds fer his title," Caoimhe told him softly. "Ye had been gone te England, and… and Mama was already gone. Everraone was gone. Cillian, Calum, they were… tied up in their own minds. Brèagha, too. After Grandsire died, she just… locked herself in her studio paintin' stormy seas fer months. It… It was easy te miss."

"What was easy to miss, Caoimhe?" Archie asked her, and for a moment, she was silent.

"I went te the main isle, desperate te… get away from Daddy's arguin' wi' Reynolds and my brothers' gloomy moods. I just… I wanted a bit more cheerful of an environment. The castle wasnae so gloomy when Grandsire was alive but after he died… the atmosphere changed, and I was suffocatin'. So I went te the isle and was lookin' fer somethin' te do. I was just walkin' aboot, mindin' my own business, when… this redcoat grabbed me, knelt down and asked me if I was lost. I said I wasnae, but he didnae believe me. He said he kent my parents and he would take me, and te behave or he would thrash me there in front of everraone. I tried te fight him off, tell him tha' my father was in the castle and that I would kick him if he didnae let me go, but… Everraone turned a blind eye. It wasnae uncommon fer the English te just manhandle children like tha', claimin' they were misbehavin' and draggin' them off… No one said or did anythin'. They just let him take me, even though they kent fine who I was," she told him.

"Christ," Archie muttered. "Did ye ever tell yer father?"

"How could I?" Caoimhe asked him. "He told me not te leave the castle because things were unstable after Grandsire died. He warned me aboot what happened te little girls who werenae careful in the village… I was ashamed, and I just… let it happen." She bent over her journal and closed her eyes, fighting off tears.

"Oh, my brave wee girl…" Saoirse said, crossing the room to her, but Caoimhe had no idea she was there.

"He raped ye," Archie asked her softly, and she didn't answer him, but she did nod. "Do ye… Do ye remember who it was?"

"I didnae ken his name… but I'll never forget his face," Caoimhe told him, her voice straining.

"Caoimhe," said Archie, standing up, but she turned on him quickly.

"Do not come over here and hug me. Do not try te give me comfort and fer Bride's sake, do not pity me," she snapped at him. "I dinnae want any of it."

"But Caoimhe, it isnae yer fault! Ye… Ye were a child!" Archie said back to her.

"I ken what I was… I ken that I'll never stop hearin' the words, 'Be a good little girl fer me. Behave yerself, ye dinnae want me te whip ye, now, do ye?'. I ken that I'll never stop seein' his face in my nightmares… And I ken tha' no words of comfort, no 'I'm so sorry that happened te ye' and no amount of 'it wasnae yer fault' will make it go away," Caoimhe told him sharply. "I dinnae want te talk aboot it anymore." There was a soft knock at the door, and Caoimhe picked up a package and brought it over to the door, giving it to the servant who carried a tea kettle of hot water on a tray. "This is white willow bark. Will ye please steep it in the kettle in Archie's room?"

"Yes, Miss," said the servant, curtsying and leaving, and then Caoimhe looked at Archie, her face firm.

"There'll be no mention of this te anyone. If anyone finds out… I swear te Christ, Archie, I will leave and ye will never see nor hear from me again," she told him sharply, and Archie nodded subtly, glancing at Saoirse, who looked pained, before looking back at her.

"I promise. No one will hear a word," he told her, and then he stood up and left her chambers.


4 November, 1769

MAEVIS POV

Maevis stood in front of the mirror as Phaedra adjusted her dress, making sure it fell just right over Maevis's growing bump. "There, this new dress should hide yer condition for tonight," Phaedra told her, smiling up at Maevis, but she wasn't smiling. "Are ye all right, Miss Maevis?"

"I'm fine," said Maevis, smiling a little at her. She then looked at her sister, who was seated in her own newly-made dress with a sketchpad in her hand while she watched Phaedra fit Maevis's dress.

"Phaedra, stay there a moment, by the window," Brèagha told her, and Phaedra raised a brow at her. "The light, the way it hits yer face…" She started furiously sketching away in her sketchpad.

"What are ye doin', Miss Fraser?" Phaedra asked her.

"I'm drawin' ye," Brèagha told her.

"Why on Earth would ye do that?" Phaedra asked her with confusion.

"Probably because you're beautiful," Maevis told her, and Phaedra looked at her with a soft smile.

"Oh… thank ye, Miss Maevis," said Phaedra a bit bashfully.

"Dinnae move, Phaedra," Brèagha told her as she continued the sketch.

"Oh, but there's much te be done, Miss Fraser," Phaedra told her. "Miss Jo willnae be pleased…"

"Let us worry about her," Maevis told her, adjusting Phaedra so Brèagha could sketch her, and then she stepped away, moving behind Brèagha so she could watch her sketch. "Wow… That's really good, Bree."

"Dinnae distract me," Brèagha told her a little sharply, and Maevis sighed a little. She watched Brèagha sketch in silence for several minutes and when she finished, Brèagha turned the sketch so Phaedra could see it.

"Oh! Ye made me much more beautiful, Miss Fraser!" Phaedra exclaimed with surprise.

"I simply drew ye as I saw ye," Brèagha told her with a smile.

"I thank ye kindly, Miss Fraser," Phaedra told her bashfully. "But… I'm afraid now I must tend te my duties." She curtsied to the two of them and left the room, and Brèagha set the sketchpad down and got up to fix any flyaway hairs in the mirror.

"You look so beautiful, Bree," Maevis told her sister. "You must attract attention from all the guys…"

"What's that supposed te mean?" Brèagha asked her a bit sharply, taking Maevis aback.

"Oh, I didn't mean… I just meant… I just meant that you're really pretty," Maevis told her, sighing a little. She didn't mean to insult her sister, but she also didn't think that what she said counted as an insult. "Brèagha, what on Earth do I have to do to make you dislike me?" Brèagha scoffed in response, not looking at Maevis while she pinched her cheeks a little to pinken them up.

"Not everrathin' is aboot you, Maevis," Brèagha replied a bit coldly, so then it was Maevis's turn to scoff.

"So what's this about then? The great space race? The fall of the Roman Empire? The blood that'll spill out of your face if you keep pinching it like that? Or is this still about Rory?" Maevis demanded from her, and Brèagha slammed her hands down onto the vanity, gritting her teeth at Maevis's reflection. "Oh, it is, isn't it?"

"I didnae ask fer ye!" Brèagha snapped at her, turning around to practically hiss at Maevis. "I didnae ask fer a sister! All my life, I've been forgotten aboot by everraone in my family, spoken aboot as if all I did was spend time in my studio paintin', as if I'm only that deep. Fer once, I wanted te be appreciated and noticed by my family, but all they care aboot is you! 'Maevis was raped, have compassion!' 'Maevis wants te be a healer just like Mama, imagine tha'!' 'Maevis is this fantastic, special lass who's from the damn future and she kens more than yer primitive arse ever will'!"

"You're jealous?" Maevis asked her, quite shocked by this revelation. "You're jealous and that's why you hate me? Has it escaped your notice that I haven't been with my parents, either? In fact, I never even met my father until four months ago! Before that, I hadn't seen my mother in twelve years because she had to send me away so I didn't die in a damn war - a war that you could never comprehend and that's not because I think you're 'primitive'. You can't help when you were born, and I can't help the fact that I was born, so you'd best get over yourself and learn to live with the fact that you're not Mama and Da's only daughter!"

"Whoa," came Archie's voice from the doorframe, and both Brèagha and Maevis rounded on him. "…I'll… come back later…"

"No! Actually, I'm glad you're here, Archie, because I'm done talking to Brèagha," said Maevis angrily, stalking across the room to her brother and latching onto his arm. "Shall we go downstairs?"

"Um…" said Archie a bit awkwardly, looking up at Brèagha, who was clearly seething. "…I wish I'd gone wi' Mama and Da…"


ARCHIE POV

Archie, with Maevis on his arm, made his way down the stairs, where Ulysses whispered to Aunt Jocasta about their arrival. "Ladies and gentlemen, may I present my nephew and my niece, Archie and Maevis Fraser," Aunt Jocasta announced, and the crowd that had formed at the bottom of the stairs of guests - some familiar to Archie, some not - widened their eyes at the sight of his sister. Many of them already knew Archie, but they had never met Maevis, and it was obvious to Archie that they were entranced by her. Archie couldn't blame them, as she was a very pretty lass. "Many of ye already ken my nephew, but my niece was quite a surprise te us. We werenae expectin' her."

"I am absolutely charmed to meet ye, Miss Fraser," said a man that Archie recognised as Gerald Forbes.

"The Forbes, Mistress," Ulysses said to Aunt Jocasta, who smiled.

"Ah. Archie is already acquainted, but Maevis, this is Gerald Forbes and his sister, Prudence Forbes," she said to Maevis.

"I've been looking forward te this occasion," said Prudence Forbes, smiling strangely at Archie, who only smiled back out of politeness.

"Have ye been enjoying yer time at River Run, Miss Fraser?" Mr. Forbes asked Maevis.

"Oh, yes, I have," Maevis told him with a smile. "My aunt has been a most generous hostess to me, my brother and my sisters."

"You've a sister?" Miss Forbes asked them.

"Aye, she's aulder than Maevis, but younger than me," Archie told her.

"The elder Miss Fraser is here, Mistress," Maevis and Archie heard Ulysses say, and they both looked up to see Brèagha descending the stairs. She looked absolutely beautiful, almost like a goddess from an Ancient Greek or Roman statue - like the Birth of Venus painting. Archie had never actually seen the painting itself, but he had seen drawings of it in books, and though the drawings never compared to the original Renaissance masterpiece, he was sure that the painting was as elegant and masterful as Brèagha was. Her lace sleeves hung down from her elbows and they were attached to a rose pink sleeve. The main part of the dress was rose pink, while the petticoat underneath was white with a pink and peach floral pattern. It complimented her complexion, as her cheeks looked rosy, and her red curls were styled like Venus herself, most likely.

"Oh, what a rare beauty," Mr. Forbes said, his eyes trained on Brèagha, completely forgetting about Maevis.

"What effortless beauty!" said Miss Forbes, and Archie couldn't help but glance at Maevis. Maevis looked beautiful, too - her dress was similar, only it had an indigo-coloured pattern and the petticoat was a solid pale blue, but she still looked beautiful. However, it was no secret that Brèagha had a rather… uncommon, but natural beauty.

"Yer beautiful, too," Archie whispered to his younger sister, who didn't say anything. Her eyes held some envy for the ogling her sister was receiving, however, she didn't seem too upset about losing Mr. Forbes's attention.

"Niece, nephew, this is Mistress Alderdyce and her son, the Honourable Judge Alderdyce," came Aunt Jocasta's voice, pulling their attention away from Brèagha.

"A pleasure te meet ye both," said Archie, bowing politely to them.

"I have heard talk of the nieces of Mistress Cameron. It is obvious that all that talk was not just mindless gossip," said Mistress Alderdyce to Maevis, who smiled meekly.

"Thank you, Mrs. Alderdyce," said Maevis politely.

"Mr. and Mrs. Ainsley, Mistress, followed by Miss Ainsley and Mr. Underwood and the younger Mr. Ainsley," said Ulysses suddenly, and Archie took a sharp intake of breath as he looked up to see the Ainsleys approach and speak with Aunt Jocasta. Clara was on the arm of that boring lobcock, George Underwood, and she didn't exactly look too canty about it. She was polite, of course, but Underwood seemed to be quite possessive of her already.

"That's Clara?" Maevis whispered softly to Archie. "Wow… She's really pretty."

"And betrothed," Archie whispered back neutrally, expressing no emotions in his voice.

"So?" Maevis asked him, and Archie glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

"She's betrothed, Maevis," Archie repeated.

"Mr. Ainsley, ye already ken my nephew, Archie. Have ye met my nieces? Brèagha is the bonny lass in pink and Maevis is the bonny lass in blue," said Aunt Jocasta, drawing the attention of the Ainsleys to Archie, Maevis and Brèagha.

"A great pleasure to meet you, Miss Fraser," said Henry Ainsley, accepting Brèagha's hand to kiss it. "You are very beautiful."

"Indeed, quite beautiful, for a Scottish girl," said Mr. Ainsley rather crudely, which seemed to surprise Maevis - Archie hadn't told her that Mr. Ainsley didn't like the Scots.

"I'd say she's quite beautiful for any kind of girl," said Maevis, evidently not liking Mr. Ainsley's snide remark. "My sister certainly does resemble a goddess of Greece, doesn't she, Mr. Ainsley?"

"Um… Yes, she rather does. Like Helen of Troy," said Henry Ainsley, and Mr. Ainsley shot his son a warning look.

"Miss Ainsley," Archie said softly to Clara, whose cheeks went pink.

"Mr. Fraser," said Clara, curtsying slightly.

"Mr. Underwood. A pleasure te finally meet ye. I… have heard much aboot ye," said Archie to Mr. Underwood, who turned his nose up at Archie and looked at him with disgust.

"Is that so?" asked Mr. Underwood in a very snooty, nasally voice, and Archie could scarcely contain his own disgusted look.

"Aye. 'Tis," Archie replied.

"Perhaps we should leave the Frasers and Mistress Cameron to welcome their guests, my dear," Clara chimed in, noting the disgust between Archie and George Underwood.

"Quite," said Mr. Underwood.

"Mistress Cameron, I thank you for your invitation," said Mr. Ainsley to Aunt Jocasta. "Leah, come." He held out his arm to his wife, who quietly accepted it, but she made eye contact with Archie when they passed.

"Lieutenant Wolff, Mistress," announced Ulysses, and Jocasta made a happy noise.

"Oh! Lieutenant Wolff, I'm so glad ye could come," she said to him, and he bent over her hand and kissed it.

"I could never miss one of your grand dinners, Mistress Cameron," he said to her, clearly kissing up to her. It was a long line of meeting several people, including a Herman Husband, a Mistress Alcott and her sons, Lawrence and Amos Alcott, and a middle-aged woman by the name of Nancy McCullough, who came alone.

"Oh, but where is yer son, Nancy?" Jocasta asked her, clearly closer with her than other women at the party.

"Oh, ye ken my Allan. Ever since my Reggie died, he's been keepin' himself busy wi' the shop," said Mrs. McCullough. "He'll be along later, he says."

"Oh, well, I hope so! I would verra much like him te meet my nieces, Maevis and Brèagha Fraser," said Jocasta, referring to Maevis and Brèagha.

"Good day te ye, Misses Frasers," said Mrs. McCullough, curtsying to them, which they returned.

"I havenae seen Caoimhe. Has she come down, do ye ken?" Archie asked Maevis, who shrugged.

"Oh, Caoimhe will be in the parlour, I believe," said Jocasta, overhearing what he'd said. "Miss Caoimhe Fowlis is my niece's niece - Archie's cousin. She's the daughter of the Laird of Cìosamul." Mrs. McCullough gasped a little, quite surprised by the name, evidently.

"The Laird of Cìosamul?" she asked with surprise.

"My uncle isnae like my grandsire, I can assure ye," Archie told her with a smile. "Though my grandsire's reputation was just speculation. He was a good man who only wished te protect his clan."

"Oh, I beg yer fergiveness, Mr. Fraser. I meant no offence. 'Tis only… when I was a wee girl, in the days before the uprisin', 'twas a fearsome name in all the land."

"Aye, I ken, though I promise ye, we're fierce, but kind," Archie told her with a smile, and then he looked at Maevis. "Come and help me find Caoimhe?"

"Please," said Maevis, pink in the face from talking to so many people.

"Miss Fraser!" came the voice of Gerald Forbes for Brèagha. "May I speak with ye a moment?" Archie led Maevis away from the staircase, scoffing lightly at Forbes.

"Lowlanders," he said. "Ye ken, they mainly sided wi' the English durin' the wars."

"Is Mr. Forbes a lowlander?" Maevis asked him.

"Clan Forbes hails from the highlands, though Gerald Forbes talks like a lowlander. I believe he's from Dumfries," Archie told her. "Did ye hear how he practically speaks like an Englishman?"

"I suppose so," said Maevis with a confused expression on her face. "You all sound the same to Americans, but… I've been told all Americans sound the same, too, when we all have different accents."

"Aye?" Archie asked her quietly. "Mama says the country will extend from the Atlantic te the Pacific Ocean. Is tha' so big?"

"Around three thousand miles across," Maevis told him with a smile. "It'll be very big, and there'll be fifty states and they'll all have their own unique cultures."

"Tha's incredible," said Archie with fascination, leading Maevis into the parlour. "Ah, Caoimhe!" Caoimhe was there dressed in a lavender-coloured dress pretending like she was listening to the conversation between a Miss Geraldine Anderson, a local Captain's daughter, and another young woman who must have arrived before Archie came down the stairs. When she looked up at Archie, she appeared to breathe a sigh of relief, then excused herself from her companions to join Archie and Maevis.

"I cannae thank ye enough. That pair of peahens were borin' me te tears," she told them.

"Who's the other lass?" Archie asked her.

"Miss Wilhelmina Abrahms," Caoimhe told him. "Her grandfather was a blacksmith and found a way te come into a great sum of money. Her father now is an investor and now the family is wealthy, but he doesnae have a son, so I suppose she's here fer the talk her appearance brings."

"Why is that important?" Maevis asked her.

"Isnae it obvious? Jocasta's invited no marrit men - only bachelors. She's lookin' te find ye and Brèagha husbands," Caoimhe told her, and Maevis's eyes widened.

"No… No, I told her I wasn't going to get married, and Brèagha won't, either. She's already married to Rory," Maevis told her.

"Aye, and tha's fine and she understands tha', but if Rory doesnae come back, then Brèagha will be alone wi' a bairn," Caoimhe told her. "Perhaps Jocasta is lookin' fer protection fer Brèagha."

"She willnae like tha'," Archie chimed in. "Christ, I'm glad I'm no' a woman."

"Aye, and ye can rule the world because ye have an extra appendage swingin' between yer legs. Be greatful fer it," Caoimhe scolded him, and Archie's cheeks turned pink.


BRÈAGHA POV

"How do ye spend yer days here, Miss Fraser?" Mr. Forbes asked her. He was hooked onto her arm, while his sister, Miss Forbes, walked beside her on her other side.

"I do a lot of drawin'," Brèagha answered him. "I've a passion fer it. Ye ken, I painted my uncle's portrait when he became the Laird of Cìosamul ten years ago."

"Really? Your uncle is the Laird of Cìosamul? I would have never guessed, given yer very polite manner," Mr. Forbes told her.

"Oh, well… My family isnae so bad as many might think," she told him. "But I dinnae do too many portraits here, though I did just finish one of Phaedra today."

"Oh, I presume ye mean the Phaedra of Greek mythology, wife of Theseus?" Miss Forbes chimed in.

"Um," Brèagha replied softly.

"Yes, a good, strong Greek name," said Mr. Forbes. "Though I believe Phaedra is the name of one of the slaves here at River Run?"

"Oh, yes, and she's quite beautiful," said Brèagha, a soft smile forming on her lips. "I can send fer it, if ye like."

"Ye mean te say you draw negroes?" asked Miss Forbes with a raised brow.

"Is anythin' wrong wi' that?" Brèagha asked, genuinely confused.

"Young folk today," said Miss Forbes, who couldn't have been too much older than Brèagha herself, who was twenty-three. "Whatever shall we do with them, Neil?"

"Neil? Forgive me, I thought yer name was Gerald," Brèagha said to Mr. Forbes.

"'Neil' is more or less a family name - short for 'Cornelius'," Mr. Forbes explained. "'Twas my father's name."

"Ah, I see," said Brèagha with a polite smile.

"'Brèagha' is such a… unique name," said Miss Forbes. "Whatever does it mean?"

"It's Gaelic fer the word 'pretty'. My mother told me tha' the midwife said I was pretty in Gaelic, and the name stuck," Brèagha replied.

"Aye, 'tis a fitting name, indeed," said Mr. Forbes, clearly enchanted with Brèagha, but she wasn't enchanted by him. She was already married, and surely, he knew that… hopefully. "Miss Fraser, if ye wouldn't mind… I have something I wish to show ye."

"Aye?" Brèagha asked, searching around the room for her siblings or cousin, but couldn't find any of them. "All right."

"I thank ye kindly. Prudence, would you mind waiting for me in the parlour?" Mr. Forbes asked his sister.

"Of course, brother," said Prudence, curtsying to them both, which Brèagha returned.

"Come, Miss Fraser. I think ye will find this quite enchanting, much like yourself," he told her. He led her up the stairs and to a small room, where, on top of a table, were four gemstones.

"Oh, those are verra bonny, sir," said Brèagha upon seeing the gemstones.

"I'm thinking of having one of these stones fashioned into a piece of jewellery - a gift," said Mr. Forbes to her, smiling gently at her. "Tell me, my dear, which one pleases ye most? The sapphire, the emerald, the topaz, or the diamond? With yer instinct for loveliness, ye would have a most valuable opinion, should ye be willing te oblige me with it."

"Um… Well, they are all quite lovely," said Brèagha, feeling a bit put on the spot. A throat cleared behind them, and Brèagha turned and let out a sigh of relief when she saw her brother standing in the doorframe.

"Beggin' yer pardon, but my aunt said ye'd taken my sister upstairs, Mr. Forbes," Archie said to Mr. Forbes. "I thought, perhaps, ye could use some company."

"Indeed, yer presence is… most welcome, Mr. Fraser," said Mr. Forbes in a manner that indicated that his presence most certainly was not welcomed. "I was just asking yer sister about her opinion on these gemstones. It will be a gift."

"Aye?" Archie asked, stepping into the room and approaching the gemstones. "Personally, I like the sapphire. Brings out my eyes."

"Indeed," said Mr. Forbes, now annoyed with Archie.

"Come, sister. There's someone I wish te introduce ye to," Archie said to Brèagha, holding out an arm for her, which she gladly took.

"Of course, Archie. Good day te ye, Mr. Forbes," she said, bowing her head to him, and then she walked out of the room with Archie. "Thank ye," she whispered to him.

"How dare tha' bold bastard take ye upstairs alone and unchaperoned? He's askin' fer trouble. I dinnae like him," Archie whispered back to her.

"Is there really someone ye wish fer me to meet?" Brèagha asked, stopping them before they went down the staircase.

"Er… No, no' really. I just wanted te get ye away from Forbes," Archie told her.

"Oh, good. I dinnae think I'm feelin' verra well," Brèagha told him, resting one hand on her belly.

"Is it the nausea? Do ye want me te send fer marshmallow root and ginger tea?" Archie asked her, and she nodded. "All right, I'll send fer it straight away. Ye go on back te yer chambers and I'll make yer excuses."

"Thank ye, Archie. I appreciate it verra much," Brèagha told him gratefully.

"Of course. I'll come and check on ye soon," Archie told her, bending forward to kiss her forehead before sending her off to her chambers.


ARCHIE POV

After he had put in the order for the tea, Archie made his way back to the party and froze when he suddenly heard a sharp voice making its way towards him. He ducked quickly behind a curtain right as Mr. Underwood stormed into the room dragging Clara behind him, and he shoved her forward. "I told you to smile! You are coming into great wealth and ought to be grateful for it," he snapped at her.

"I'm sorry, George. I'm feeling a little tired, that's all. I'm sorry," Clara said to him, and Mr. Underwood slapped her across the face. Archie had to slap his hand over his mouth to keep from shouting.

"You will obey me. Chin up and smile," Mr. Underwood told her in a threatening tone. "I will not have a disobedient wife."

"Of course, George," said Clara in a disheartening tone, and Archie waited until he heard Mr. Underwood's footsteps storming out of the room to emerge from the curtain. Clara had taken out a handkerchief and wiped at her eyes, but she could not stop the flow of tears.

"Christ, Clara," said Archie softly, and she gasped and jumped as she turned to look at him.

"Mr. Fraser!" she exclaimed. "I… I did not know you were there… George, he… He is not normally like this."

"No?" Archie asked her a bit sharply. "I take it he normally doesnae slap ye, either?"

"Archie, please," Clara said to him as he approached her.

"Ye cannae expect me te just stand by while tha' bastard hurts ye, Clara," Archie told her, and she scoffed lightly.

"I am none of your concern, Archie. We are friends, and nothing more, and that friendship will come to an end when I am married to George," she told him, standing up straight, and Archie raised a hand to wipe one stray tear away from her eye.

"Ye cannae marry him, Clara," Archie told her softly. "He'll bleed ye dry. He'll suck everra ounce of life out of ye until yer nothin' more than a shell of who ye used te be. Yer so… full of life. Ye love music and dancin', ye cannae just throw that away because yer father says ye have te marry tha' lobcock."

"He… he isn't a lobcock," Clara told him quietly. "I don't know how they do things where you come from, or in your class, but in my world, I must do as my father dictates."

"No, Clara… Ye don't," Archie told her, but she only shook her head.

"I suppose Scotland is different. Perhaps your daughters do not respect your fathers as English girls do. Perhaps that is why my father dislikes Scotland so," Clara told him a bit harshly, but Archie knew she didn't mean it. She was angry with him. He opened his mouth to speak again and she held up a hand to stop him. "No. I'll not hear another word. Goodbye, Archie." With that said, she turned and left him alone, leaving Archie feeling as if he had lost her forever.


CAOIMHE POV

It was getting late, and finally, dinner was served. It was an elaborate feast, but of course, Caoimhe was used to that with dinners at Cìosamul Castle. Everyone was inquiring after Brèagha, but all anyone heard was that she was unwell. Caoimhe made a mental note to check on Brèagha once she had finished eating. Auntie called it 'hyperemesis gravidarum', which meant that Brèagha had severe morning sickness pertaining to her pregnancy. There were some days when Brèagha couldn't keep anything but water down, so Caoimhe often made her honey water to drink so she at least had something. Once dinner was finished and Caoimhe excused herself, she went and mixed some more honey water for Brèagha in the kitchens, and once she was finished, made her way towards the stairs to go upstairs. As she passed the entrance hall, there was a knock at the door, and the servant opened the door to reveal a young man with sandy-coloured hair removing his tricorn hat and resting it against his chest.

"Allan McCullough, sir. I was invited," he said to the servant.

"Yer a bit late," Caoimhe said to him before the servant could speak, surprising him a little. "Dinner's just aboot finished."

"Aye, I had te finish my inventory at my father's… at my… shop," said Mr. McCullough, nodding to her. "Are ye a relative of Mistress Cameron, ma'am?"

"Her niece - sort of," Caoimhe replied. "I'm the niece of her nephew's wife."

"Ah, I see," said Mr. McCullough. "May I ask yer name, Miss?"

"This is Miss Fowlis, sir," said the servant.

"Aye, but 'tis so formal. Ye can call me Caoimhe," Caoimhe told him.

"A verra bonny name, indeed," said Mr. McCullough. "In that case, ye may call me 'Allan'."

"Well, Allan, 'tis fine te meet ye," Caoimhe replied. "I'm afraid I must part wi' ye now. My cousin is upstairs unwell and I've been learnin' te be a healer from my aunt."

"Yer aunt is Mistress Fraser? Aye, we've heard of her," said Mr. McCullough with a smile. "I hear she's created a cure fer young Geordie Severs's… condition."

"Aye, my auntie's good wi' herbs," Caoimhe replied. "I must go now, my cousin has been unwell fer some time. Goodnight te ye, sir."

"And ye as well, Miss," said Mr. McCullough, bowing slightly to her. She returned it with a curtsy, and then she went upstairs. Before she reached the top, she paused and looked over her shoulder, finding his eyes watching her, and then she continued on her way, rounding the corner out of his sight.


MAEVIS POV

"Yer sister is such a rare beauty, Miss Fraser," Prudence Forbes was saying to Maevis when the men and women had separated after dinner. "My mother will be thrilled to meet her."

"Yes, it's in her name," said Maevis. "'Brèagha' is Gaelic for 'pretty'."

"Oh, how charming!" said Mrs. Alderdyce. "My Dickie would be charmed to have her as his bride." Maevis couldn't help but make a face at this - Judge Alderdyce was easily twenty years older than Brèagha.

"My sister is married," Maevis told them both. "She was handfast to a friend of mine. His name is Rory Tanner."

"Tanner? Such an ordinary name. Does he come from a family of status?" asked Mrs. Alderdyce.

"Mistress Cameron says that the man is dead," Prudence chimed in. "She says that her nieces both should be married with… urgency." She glanced at Maevis strangely, and Maevis narrowed her eyes at Miss Forbes.

"I'll thank you to not judge me," Maevis told her a bit sharply. "You don't know what my story is."

"Ah, so the rumours are true," said Mrs. Alderdyce, eyeing Maevis suspiciously.

"I've had enough of this conversation," Maevis said to them with annoyance, turning on her heel and walking away from them.

"I should have known," said Mrs. Alderdyce to Miss Forbes. "I would never want my Dickie to marry a soiled woman."

"My brother, too, is in good standing. To marry her would tarnish his reputation. But if he were te marry a grieving widow…" Miss Forbes said, her voice trailing off as Maevis walked out of earshot. Brèagha was not a grieving widow, she was a wife whose husband was… lost, for lack of a better word. Rory wasn't dead. Mama and Da would bring him back alive and then he and Brèagha could marry properly, since that seemed to matter so much to the people of this time. But if Jocasta was pushing the narrative that Brèagha was a grieving widow with child, then Maevis had to come up with a plan, and fast.

She stepped out onto the porch and paced, huffing quietly to herself as she tried to figure out a way out of this situation. If one of them had to marry, then fine, it would be Maevis. Maevis didn't have a man who loved her, but Brèagha did. Maevis could not allow Jocasta to allow one of those elitist leeches to marry her. But of course, they might not want to marry Maevis, either - a win-win situation. But how could she stop them?

"Oh, begging your pardon, Miss! Chick-chick-chicken!" Maevis gasped a little with surprise and turned to find a young man with brown hair, who twitched and clicked his tongue seemingly without control. "Oh! I didn't mean to startle you!" He twitched again, clicking his tongue.

"No, you're fine," Maevis told him, letting out a breath of air. "Sorry, I just came out here for a bit of peace and quiet."

"Ah, I understand that. Though you c-c-can't get that with me around," said the man, whistling rather loudly, and then he sighed. "The demon is very active today."

"Demon?" Maevis asked him, watching him twitch again.

"Oh, yes. The demon making me do and s-ssssay- Snakes in the grass! - all of these things," the man told her. "Pleased to meet ya, Miss. The name's Geordie Severs." He held out his hand, but uncontrollably clenched it into a fist.

"It's nice to meet you, Geordie," said Maevis, taking his hand to give it a shake. "My name's Maevis, and you don't have a demon in you. I think you have Tourette's syndrome."

"T-T-Tourette's?" Geordie repeated, twitching his head. "Y-your mother said that, too. Y-you-you-yooooou look a lot like her." Maevis chuckled gently as his cheeks went pink.

"Yes, I've been told that a lot," she told him. "What are you doing out here? I thought your father was a merchant."

"Oh, I-I'm not allowed in parties- parties. I cause t-too much disruption," Geordie replied, and Maevis frowned.

"Well, that isn't fair," she told him. "I think you're entitled to attend parties just like everyone else."

"Oh, I th-thhhank ya, Miss, but I-I don't really lllllike them much anyway," he told her. "I don't much like all the l-looks I get."

"Forget those fancy assholes," Maevis told him, and Geordie's eyes widened.

"G-Goodness, Miss - assholes! Assholes! - Ugh, sorry… I've never h-heard a lady speak as ssssuch," Geordie told her, and Maevis laughed.

"I don't think you'll find most people calling me a lady," she told him, resting her hand on her belly, and she sighed softly. Geordie's eyes widened as he realised what she was saying, but the look he gave her wasn't judgemental, as the others were - it was sympathetic.

"Oh," he said. "I s-s-see. You have a baby in your belly. God!" He was clearly frustrated with himself, and then he let out a huff. "Did the man r-run off, then?"

"Not quite," Maevis told him with a sigh. "He… he raped me." Geordie's eyes widened again.

"Bastard. Bastard! What a bastard! Oh, I'm so sorry, Miss," said Geordie with sympathy. "'Tis an awful shame."

"It is, but… I'm coming to terms with it," Maevis told him, giving him a soft smile. "I can't change what happened, but I can change my attitude towards it, and I don't want this baby growing up thinking I resent it."

"'Look where the s-sssun shines', as my mother says," said Geordie kindly.

"Yes, that's a great way of looking at it," Maevis told him, and then she let out a soft sigh. "I'm a bit tired, so I guess I should turn in… It was nice to meet you, Geordie."

"Oh, y-y-you, too, Miss," he told her with a smile. "I sh-shhhhall look forward to our next meeting. See you again, bonny lass." Maevis giggled a little behind her hand, smiling at Geordie.

"I'll see you again, too," she told him, and then she bid him goodnight and went back inside.