2 December, 1769
Lyton House, Cross Creek, North Carolina
CLARA POV
Lyton House was the country home that the Ainsleys rented when they came to Cross Creek. It was a grand estate, sort of like their home in Wilmington, which was called Ainsley Manor, except much more rural. Lyton House came with slaves, too, who were serving the Ainsleys as they hosted a few guests for a formal dinner the night before the wedding, which boasted guests such as George Underwood, his mother, Mrs. Amelia Gardener, and her second husband, Ignatius Gardener, who was a pompous speculator from New York.
"It is certainly such a wonderful occasion," Mrs. Gardener commented as she held up a glass of wine. "I am thrilled that our families will be uniting tomorrow!"
"As am I, my dear Mrs. Gardener!" said Clara's father with his nose high up in the air. "Clara is ecstatic as well, aren't you, dear?"
"Of course," said Clara with a small smile. But she wasn't ecstatic. In fact, on the night before her wedding, it wasn't her husband-to-be that was on her mind - it was Archie Fraser. The young, handsome red-haired Scot had captured her heart, and for a time, Clara thought that she could evade all thoughts of him, until he kissed her. He invoked all sorts of feelings in her that she had tried so hard to fight, but when he kissed her… all of that fight had fled, leaving Clara weak in the knees. How could she find the strength to stand at the altar beside George Underwood when all of her strength was gone?
"I understand dear Miss Clara is a singer?" asked Mr. Gardener, piquing the interest of Mrs. Gardener.
"Ooh, are you, dear? Well, I'd love to hear you sing!" Mrs. Gardner exclaimed with too much enthusiasm.
"Singing is such a frivolous activity," said George with disinterest, his nose high up in the air.
"Many a fine English rose is quite skilled at the pianoforte, Georgie," said Mr. Gardener in response. "Queen Charlotte herself is a patron of the arts!"
"And I hear the music of Mr. Handel is very good. I've not heard much, but everyone always tells me to go to the opera! Tell me, my dear. Do you know any of his work?" Mrs. Gardener asked Clara.
"I… would not be able to sing any of his pieces properly," Clara told her, glancing awkwardly at her father. "I cannot sing opera."
"Oh, what a shame! Do you know anything interesting at all?" Mrs. Gardener asked her, and Mr. Ainsley's face told her to lie and say she didn't, but her mother's encouraging expression told her to say that she did.
"I… find myself rather fond of John Dowland's work," said Clara in response. "Though I… I do not think I could sing it tonight." Her cheeks were bright red and she tried hard not to look at the disapproving look of her father.
"I'll not turn in for the night until I've heard you sing us one song, Clara, dear," said Mrs. Gardener stubbornly.
"Mother, if Clara says that she cannot sing tonight, then she cannot sing," said George to his mother, but she only scoffed.
"One song is all I ask! Surely, you can sing us one song?" asked Mrs. Gardener, and Clara sighed softly.
"I… suppose I could sing just… one," said Clara meekly, and Mrs. Gardener clapped her hands with joy.
"Wonderful! Wonderful!" she exclaimed. "To the parlour, shall we?" The two families made their way to the parlour and sat down on the settees or stood, while Clara sat down at the pianoforte. Her father was glaring daggers at her, but Clara softly closed her eyes and recalled something Archie had told her: If ye couldnae get yer father's approval before, then what makes ye think ye can get it now?
Clara let out a small breath of air, then lifted the cover over the keys, cleared her throat, and began to play the opening bars of her favourite John Dowland song called 'Weep You No More, Sad Fountains':
"Weep you no more, sad fountains;
What need you flow so fast?
Look how the snowy mountains
Heav'n's sun doth gently waste.
But my sun's heav'nly eyes
View not your weeping
That now lies sleeping,
Softly, softly…
Now softly lies sleeping…"
"Oh, so beautiful!" said Mrs. Gardener softly as Clara played an instrumental interlude.
"Sleep is a reconciling,
A rest that Peace begets.
Doth not the sun rise smiling
When fair at evening he sets?
Rest you then, rest, sad eyes,
Melt not in weeping
While she lies sleeping,
Softly, softly…
Now softly lies sleeping…"
She finished out the rest of the song on the pianoforte before bringing it to an end, and all but George and Papa clapped their hands politely. "How wonderful! You are a fine singer who rivals even the great Charlotte Brent! Oh, Ignatius did take me to London last fall where we saw her perform!" Mrs. Gardener exclaimed excitedly. "Isn't she lovely, Georgie?"
"Delightful," said George, clearly unimpressed, and then he turned to Papa. "Mr. Ainsley, before the night is old, I did wish to discuss arrangements of opening a joint branch in the developing city of Charlottesburgh."
"Indeed! I have plans for such a proposal in my study. Do join me, George," said Papa, leading George out of the parlour, and Clara sighed softly.
"You are a charming singer, dear! I should hope to someday see you at the John Street Theater in Manhattan!" said Mrs. Gardener excitedly. "You must convince Georgie to visit us in New York after you are married. It is only one of the best cities for those of us with such class!"
"Is that where Mr. Gardener has done his speculating?" asked Henry curiously.
"Indeed, and there is much to speculate in Manhattan," Mr. Gardener told him. "Could you believe that I was a fisherman scarcely a decade ago? Now, I am one of the wealthiest men in the city!"
"Almost as hard as it was to believe that my deceased husband, Henry, was the son of a blacksmith," said Mrs. Gardener with a laugh. "Oh, how proud I am that my George will be marrying a woman of such class and such talent! Is it true your uncle is an Earl, dear?"
"Our uncle is the Earl of Ellenbroke," Henry chimed in.
"And where is Ellenbroke, boy?" asked Mr. Gardener.
"A grand estate in Leicestershire, near the village of Woodhouse," said Henry in response.
"Ah. I've no idea where that is," said Mr. Gardener, letting out a loud guffaw. Clara sighed softly and stood up, straightening out her skirts.
"I believe that I am quite tired," she announced to the room.
"My daughter does have a big day tomorrow. She should rest," said Mama, standing up to accompany Clara upstairs to her bedchamber.
"Oh, indeed! I cannot wait to see how beautiful of a bride you make, dear Clara!" Mrs. Gardener exclaimed, standing up to give Clara a wet, sloppy kiss on her cheek. Clara smiled, trying hard not to look disgusted, then bid good night to the guests.
"Come, Caroline," said Mama to Linny, Clara's younger sister. Caroline had struggled to say her name when she was younger and it came out more like 'Carlinny', so Clara started calling her 'Linny' and the name had stuck. Like Clara, Linny was dark-haired and olive skinned, but she did have the light eyes of their English father. "How are you, tissqua? Nervous?" Mama asked her once they were safely away in Clara's bedchamber, and Bonnie, their Irish servant that they had brought from Wilmington, quickly worked to help Clara undress.
"Tired, mostly, and… happy that the wedding is finally upon us," Clara told her mother, not looking at her.
"I don't like him," said Linny in a childlike manner. "He seems rude."
"Yes, the man is stoic," said Mama, running a finger through Linny's hair. "You do not need to marry him, tissqua. I will speak to your father. He will understand."
"No he won't, Mama," said Clara with very little emotion. "I must marry George. It is my duty."
"It was my duty to marry your father," Mama told her. "It is your duty to find happiness. I know Mr. Underwood does not give you happiness."
"Mama, I'm quite tired," said Clara softly, looking down at her vanity as Bonnie undid all of the pins in her hair. "I'd like to go to sleep now."
"All right, tissqua," said Mama, giving her daughter a small smile in the mirror. "Come along, Linny. Shall we find Miss Emerson?"
"Yes!" said Linny excitedly. "Goodnight, Clara!"
"Goodnight, Linny," said Clara to her sister, watching as she ran out of the room and Mama followed, leaving Clara alone with Bonnie. After several moments of silence, Bonnie began to hum a gentle tune, and Clara raised her eyebrow curiously at her. "What song is that, Bonnie?"
"Hm? Oh, 'tis an auld song, Miss. In Irish, we say 'Eileanóir na Rún', but in English, 'tis called 'Eleanor My Secret Love'," Bonnie told her, and Clara nodded softly, looking at her reflection in the mirror.
"It's… it's pretty," she said quietly. She sat in silence while Bonnie continued to hum the tune and help Clara get ready for bed, and once she was finished, she bid Clara a good night and said she would return at dawn to help her dress for the wedding, leaving Clara all by herself.
River Run, Cross Creek, North Carolina
ARCHIE POV
Archie paced in his room before the fireplace with his hands behind his back. There was no way he would be sleeping tonight - tomorrow, he would be losing the love of his life to one of the worst possible people. He'd done everything he could to try and stop her, save abducting her like his great grandsire, Lord Lovat, had done, and yet, he had failed. He stopped for a moment to lean against the mantle, trying hard to fight off tears.
"What are ye doin', lad?" came Granny's stern voice out of nowhere, causing him to jump.
"Granny!" Archie exclaimed with alarm.
"Dinnae scold me fer startlin' ye, lad. Go after yer lassie!" Granny told him, and Archie scoffed
"She isnae my lassie. She's made that verra clear," Archie told her a bit sharply, and Granny groaned.
"So what? She has yer heart, and ye have hers. Ye ken it well, so fight fer her, lad," Granny told him.
"Granny, I beg yer pardon, but ye dinnae ken women of this century," Archie told her harshly.
"Maybe no', but I do ken what it is te long fer someone ye love fer so long," Granny told him, her face falling as she recalled what must have been a dark memory. "Yer grandsire was imprisoned fer fifteen years, lad, and fer everra moment of those fifteen years, I never gave up hope that I would see him again."
"Tha's different, Granny. Ye didnae belong te another man," Archie told her, and Granny let out a soft sigh.
"If ye willnae listen te me, then perhaps ye'll listen te yer sister, who is of this time," Granny told him, and Archie raised a brow.
"What?" he asked, and then there was a knock at the door. Archie glanced back at where Granny had been standing, only to find her gone, and he sighed heavily. "Who is it?"
"It's Bree, Archie," Brèagha called from the other side.
"Come in," he said with his back to the door, and he heard the door open. The light from a candle cast a shadow against the wall, and then he heard the door close again.
"Are ye well, brother?" Brèagha asked him.
"Given the date, do ye think I'm well?" Archie asked her a bit harshly.
"I didnae think so," Brèagha said softly. He heard her set the candle holder down onto a table and then she sat down on the settee behind him. "It isnae too late…"
"So everraone says," Archie said quietly. "She's engaged te be marrit, Brèagha. Somethin' she hasnae ceased te remind me of since she became engaged."
"But she loves ye, Archie. Anyone with eyes can see," Brèagha replied.
"That doesnae matter, does it?" Archie asked her. "Ye dinnae love Lord John, do ye?"
"I'm not actually engaged te Lord John," Brèagha reminded him. "Grandmother loved Grandsire, too. She was engaged, do ye not recall?" Archie did recall. His grandfather had told him many times about how he had fallen in love with Mairead MacLeod, who was 'the most beautiful woman in all of Scotland', he'd said.
"I didnae stop until I convinced her te leave her betrothed and marry me," Grandsire had said. "'Twas the night before her engagement. I thought, at first, that all was lost, but I wasnae ready te give up. We Fowlises of Barra dinnae give up so easily, a ghille ruadh - never forget tha'. And so, 'twas the middle of the night, but I didnae care. I travelled te South Uist on a boat and tossed stones at her window, then when she came, I began te sing te her."
"Did she go wi' ye, Grandsire?" a young Archie had naively asked him, and Grandsire had chuckled, patting Archie's back gently.
"It took some convincin', but aye. She did," he'd said with pride.
"Aye… I ken," said Archie softly. "But I'm not Grandsire, and Clara isnae Grandmother."
"Ye look like Grandsire," Brèagha told him. "And Clara's reasons fer wantin' te marry Mr. Underwood are the same as Grandmother's fer marryin' the MacNeil lad."
"Grandmother was close te her guardian. Clara doesnae have a similar relationship te her father," Archie replied.
"Archie… Since when have ye given up?" Brèagha asked him. "Fer fifteen years, ye never gave up hope that Mama would return, and she did. I even gave up hope long before, but ye never did… I swear, ye've the ability te manifest what's meant te happen, Archie."
"Who says I'm meant te marry Clara?" Archie asked, finally turning to look at her, and Brèagha shrugged.
"It sure would beat ye lookin' miserable like this fer the rest of yer life," Brèagha told him, resting one hand on her swollen belly. "Just go, Archie. The worst tha' can happen is she tells ye te go te Hell, but I dinnae think she will." Archie sighed softly, looking down at his feet. Brèagha was right, there was no harm in trying just one last time. He wasn't entirely out of time yet, but his window of opportunity was rapidly shrinking.
"All right," he said, looking up at his sister. "I'll go… But ye mustnae tell anyone where I've gone."
"Yer secret's safe wi' me, as yer secrets always have been," Brèagha told him with a small smile. Once she left, Archie had to think quickly of a song to sing to Clara. It couldn't be just any song, it had to be something personal, something that represented both himself and Clara. But what on earth could that be? He tried hard to think, wondering what song he could sing. Which one did Grandsire sing to Grandmother? Would that be good enough?
Ye know the one.
"Huh?" Archie asked, thinking another spirit had joined him, but when he turned around, there was no one there. Strange…
Mo ghrá den chéad fhéachaint thu,
Eileanóir na rún…
"No… No, I cannae sing her a song in Gaelic," Archie said to whatever was trying to communicate with him, letting out a heavy huff. "But… I suppose it could be in English…" He quickly sat down at his desk and tried to think hard about the lyrics to the song, but there was one problem: the song was in Irish, not Gaelic, and Archie didn't speak Irish. He knew a little Irish, but not enough to translate the song into English. There was only one person he could turn to for this.
"Ye want me te translate the lyrics te 'Eileanóir na Rún' te English?" Caoimhe asked Archie when he woke her up in the middle of the night.
"Aye, and quickly, if ye dinnae mind," Archie told her a bit impatiently.
"Makin' one last attempt te win Clara's heart over?" Caoimhe asked him as she made her way to her own desk and pulled out a piece of stationary.
"What else can I do? I couldnae live wi' myself if I didnae try at least one more time," Archie told her.
"Good on ye," Caoimhe said with a smile, and she started writing down the lyrics to the song first in Irish so she could translate it. "An interestin' choice fer a song."
"I'm goin' te change it up a wee bit, make it more personal fer Clara," Archie told her.
"Really? I'd like te hear it. Tomorrow, of course, or whenever I see ye again," Caoimhe told him, and Archie raised a brow. Whenever she sees him again? "Well, what'll ye do if Clara decides te forgo her weddin' and run off wi' ye? Surely, ye willnae stay here?"
"I… I havenae… gotten that far yet," Archie told her, running a hand through his hair awkwardly.
"Ye should probably think aboot tha', too, while ye can," Caoimhe told him, dipping her quill in the ink to write down another line. "Yer used te sleepin' rough, but Clara isnae."
"I dinnae even ken where the nearest settlement is, besides Wilmington or the Ridge," Archie replied. "Christ… What if she does decide te run off wi' me?" Then what would he do? Caoimhe was right, he couldn't possibly expect her to sleep rough in the woods. Perhaps they could stay at one of the buildings on the estate or hide out somewhere on River Run? It was a very large estate, after all. There had to be some place that they could hide out. Dinnae make assumptions, ye fool. She hasnae changed her mind yet, so dinnae expect her te.
"Here ye are," said Caoimhe, handing Archie the translated lyrics. "I only did the first two verses. I dinnae imagine ye'll have much more time than tha'."
"Tha's perfectly fine, Caoimhe. I cannae thank ye enough," Archie said to her as he made his way to the door.
"Just personalise it good, and win her over," Caoimhe told him with a smile, watching as Archie quickly left her room. He spent close to an hour reworking the lyrics to fit Clara perfectly, and when he checked the clocks, he realised that it was nearly two in the morning. He had to act fast, if he wanted to go unnoticed to all but Clara.
Carrying nothing but a candlestick, he made his way down the darkened corridors and stairs of River Run, careful not to make a noise. He crept out of the kitchen door instead of the main door, which was closer to the stables. Inside, the grooms were sleeping on haystacks all about, and it would be very difficult for Archie to sneak past them without waking them up. He picked the horse closest to the entrance, a black mare by the name of Mollie, and saddled her as quietly as he could by touch only, as he would not bring a light into the stables. He heard some rustling and froze, then heard a sleepy murmur that faded into silence. Good, he hadn't been caught. He couldn't risk gossip starting before he had even left for Lyton House. Archie needed to put as much distance between himself and Clara's disappearance, if she chose to run off with him. Once Archie had walked Mollie out of the stables and far enough away, he mounted her and took off underneath the sliver of moonlight from the waxing crescent.
Once he had arrived at Lyton House, he tied Mollie far enough away so that if she whinnied, she wouldn't be heard, and then crept along the property until he came to a lighted window. In the window behind a curtain, he could see a silhouette pacing anxiously - that had to be Clara, so he collected a few stones and acorns and began to toss them at the window. When the first stone hit the window, the silhouette paused for a moment, likely wondering if what she had heard was real or not, and when he threw a second stone, the curtains began to rustle and Clara's face appeared in the window. She squinted her bonny eyes as she searched the grounds, and then Archie threw a third stone, which startled her a little. Archie then stepped out where she could see him and he could see her brown eyes widen with surprise, then she quickly opened the window.
"Archie! What are you doing here?" she hissed at him as quietly as she could.
"I'm sorry, Clara, but I cannae give up so easily," Archie told her.
"Archie, you can't be here! If my father finds out you're here…" Clara said, looking over her shoulder behind her, but Archie cleared his throat and began to sing his song for her:
"Yer my love at first-sight, Clara my love.
It's of you that I dream of
While I lie asleep."
She froze and looked down at him, her eyes wide and her jaw tight as she listened to Archie's song. It was clear that the cogs were turning in her mind, going over every decision that was at her hand.
"Ye are my love and my first treasure;
Ye are the best of the lassies.
Lovely young maiden, ye have the sweetest kiss.
As long as I live, I will desire ye,
Clara, my darlin' love…"
CLARA POV
"Archie…" Clara muttered softly as she listened to Archie's sweet song.
"She had the gift that she could
Entice the birds from the trees,
And the taste of her kiss was sweeter than
the cuckoo before day…"
God, what could she do? If she didn't marry George Underwood, then her father would never forgive her. She'd never be allowed to return home, to see her mother or Linny or even Henry. She would lose Bonnie, who was like a dear friend to her, and she would lose everything as she knew it. Her life would change… but would it truly be so bad?
"She had another gift that I will not tell.
She is the love of my heart and my first treasure
Lovely young maiden, you have the sweetest song."
But if she married George, then she would keep everything, but she would lose herself… Archie told her that she was a bright light, that she was slowly going out the more she spent time with her betrothed. What if George did take her to New York? Then she would likely lose her family and her home forever anyway, as New York was so far away… How would she be able to live with herself if she married George? He was cold, harsh, brutal, like the coldest of winters. He was the part of winter that caused famines, that brought illness and pain. There was no beauty in the icy chill that George brought upon her…
"As long as I live I will desire ye…
Clara, my darlin' love…"
Archie was like summer on the sea. He shined like the warm summer sun upon her, cooled her with a gentle breeze, calmed her like the waves upon the shore. He called to her like the gulls to the sea, beckoning her to enter his warm embrace… There was no frigid chill when Archie Fraser was near.
I only want you to be happy, tissqua.
Mama's words, giving Clara her approval of Archie. Archie was certainly right about one thing… Clara would never have her father's approval no matter what she did. Would he even be proud of her if she did marry George? Probably not. All he wanted was to forge a connection between their two banks. Why was a marriage between George and Clara the only way to achieve that?
"God forgive me," Clara whispered softly, her hands gripping the windowsill tightly as she looked down at Archie below her.
"Clara… My darlin' love, ye… ye cannae marry George Underwood," Archie told her after he'd finished his song.
"I know," Clara said softly. "But what shall I do?"
"Marry me instead?" Archie asked her. "I can take care of ye. I've done so wi' my own family on the Ridge. Ye'd be safe there, I promise ye. My mother's one of the greatest healers around, and we've plenty of resources, shops, even… I can build us a cabin, if ye'd like. Anywhere on the Ridge, wherever ye want."
"But what would we do until then?" Clara asked him.
"I… I dinnae ken," said Archie softly. "But it wouldnae be the first time I've no' kent what the future would bring. It hasnae stopped me yet."
"My whole life, I've always known what the future would bring me," Clara replied. "I don't think I've ever faced such an… unknown future before."
"Unknowns arenae as frightenin' as they seem," Archie told her with a smile. "But ye wouldnae be alone. We'll navigate it together. So… What do ye say?"
"What do I say?" Clara asked, and then she looked up at the sky. The sky had never given her any unknowns, either - and yet, it held so many. A life of predictability had become one of comfort, but comfort did not always mean happiness. Would the promise of happiness be enough to coax her out of a life of comfort, free and far from any unknown fate? "I'd have to say… yes."
"Yes?" Archie asked her. "Ye'll come wi' me?"
"Yes, Archie," said Clara, smiling down at him. "I will." Archie let out a joyous laugh.
"Then come down here!" he exclaimed.
"Shh!" Clara shushed him, giggling gently. "Allow me to get dressed. It must be quite cold outside."
"Oh, aye, 'tis a wee bit nippy," said Archie, suddenly feeling the cold and giving a gentle shiver.
"Then I'll be quick," said Clara, and then she went back into her bedchamber. She found a comfortable dressing gown and a warm travelling cloak, then decided to leave a note for her mother on the vanity. The note said:
Mama,
I have gone to find happiness. Thank you for everything, and tell Papa that I am sorry I could not marry Mr. Underwood. I will love you always.
Your loving daughter,
Clara
ARCHIE POV
Once Clara had met him downstairs, Archie brought her to Mollie and helped her up onto the horse's back, though she was a bit hesitant. "I've never really liked horses much," she said a bit nervously.
"Och, dinnae fash, mo ghràidh. I'll be right here te keep ye safe," Archie told her, climbing up behind her and pulling her close and tight.
"What's that mean?" Clara asked him curiously.
"'Tis Gaelic fer 'my love'," Archie told her, and her cheeks turned pink. "Te the church, then?"
"Yes," Clara said with a smile, and Archie clicked his tongue at Mollie and urged her forward, riding off away from Lyton House and into the night. They reached Cross Creek, which was empty, and dismounted from the horse, and Archie tied her up outside of the old cobbler's shop. "I've never been out of doors so late."
"Strange, isnae it?" Archie asked her, offering her his arm, which she accepted. "'Tis a whole different world at night."
"It is," said Clara softly, shivering a little. Archie removed his own coat from his shoulders and rested it on Clara's. "But won't you be cold?"
"Nah. These North Carolina winters have nothin' on Scottish ones," said Archie with a cheeky smile, and Clara smiled slightly. "Come on, let's get ye inside." Rubbing her shoulders, Archie led her towards the front of the church, which was Presbyterian. They climbed up the stairs and Archie opened the door, stepping aside to allow her inside. It was a bit warmer inside of the church, though not considerably, but it was enough for Clara to no longer need Archie's coat, so she gave it back.
"I understand the pastor here is a Father Rickards," Clara said to Archie, her voice echoing a little in the church.
"Father Rickards, aye? And he's Presbyterian?" Archie asked, examining the church. It was relatively plain compared to Catholic Churches, although Archie hadn't had the privilege of entering too many Catholic Churches, save for Notre Dame Cathedral when they were in Paris.
"I was baptised here," Clara told Archie quietly as he looked around.
"Aye?" Archie asked her, looking at her. "Would ye believe me if I told ye I'd been baptised at Notre Dame in Paris?"
"Isn't that a cathedral?" Clara asked him, and then it dawned on her. "Oh… I… I forgot that some Scots are Catholic… It's part of the reason why my father doesn't like them." She paused for a moment. "Are… Are you Catholic, Archie?"
"Would it change how ye felt aboot me if I was?" Archie asked her, now genuinely concerned. If it did, should he just lie and say he was Presbyterian?
"Of course not," Clara told him. "Regardless of whatever faith we choose to follow, God will love us. I think it's a shame that we cannot love each other." Archie let out a small breath of relief.
"Then… Aye, I… was brought up Catholic," Archie told her. "Though my… views in recent years have been changin' a wee bit." Just to accommodate the fact that the Celtic pagan deities actually existed, considering the Morrígan decided to give him her gift, or curse, or whatever the hell it was.
"I see," said Clara.
"Who goes there?" called a voice, and both Clara and Archie jumped as Father Rickards emerged from a room behind the altar. "Why, yer just a couple of wee bairns, arenae ye? What do ye think yer doin', stealin' away te a church in the middle of the night? Why… Is that you, Miss Ainsley? Yer a wee bit early, arenae ye?"
"Um…" Clara said a bit meekly, looking up at Archie for help.
"No, she's… on time," Archie told her. "We'd like te be marrit."
"Marrit? Are ye mad, lad? Have ye any idea who the lass is te marry tomorrow mornin'?" asked Father Rickards with disbelief.
"Aye, I ken, and I stand by my request," Archie told him firmly. "We'd like te be marrit."
"I cannae do that, lad. Ye ken fine why," said Father Rickards. "Do ye think I didnae hear ye? This church could carry yer voices fer miles. I'm surprised all of Cross Creek didnae hear yer forbidden confession." Clara looked up at Archie, who had pursed his lips irritably.
"Ye willnae help us because I was baptised Catholic?" Archie asked him.
"Sorry, lad. 'Tis against the law on English soil," said Father Rickards stubbornly, and then surprisingly, Clara huffed.
"Well, that's ridiculous, isn't it?" she asked him. "Archie worships the same God that we do as Protestants, he serves Jesus the same as we do, and he prays with his head bowed the same as we do."
"And yet, he believes that the fool in the Vatican is the vicar of Christ," said Father Rickards, eyeing Archie suspiciously.
"I'll not hear ye speak of the Pope in such a manner," Archie snapped at him.
"Enough, both of you!" Clara exclaimed. "Father, please. Archie and I love each other regardless of our religious beliefs. That should not bar two people who love each other dearly from marrying."
"'Tis wrong, it is," said Father Rickards, glaring at Archie.
"Love is such a rare thing, and did Christ not die for our sins so that we may love each other unhindered?" Clara asked him. "We have been taught to love thy neighbour. Good Christians do love everyone, irregardless of such a thing. If you will not allow Archie and I to marry, do you not see that you are going back on the teachings of God?"
"What-" growled Father Rickards, and he narrowed his eyes at her before huffing heavily. "Of course I am not goin' back on the teachin's of God. 'Tis only right that we love our neighbours… even if they are bleedin' Papists." He then turned his gaze to Archie. "Verra well, but as far as the church kens, ye are Protestant like the rest of us, and I'll advise ye not te show yer face in these parts fer some time. I imagine Miss Ainsley has told ye of the temper Mr. Ainsley has."
"I think I'll be fine. The man thinks me a savage already on the fact tha' I'm Scottish alone," Archie replied, honestly a little surprised that Mr. Ainsley would turn to a Scotsman as his pastor.
"Then come forth, and kneel at the altar," said Father Rickards, going to the altar to pick up his bible and flip through it. Archie offered Clara his hand and she smiled kindly at him, then he led her to the altar, where they both knelt down and clasped their hands in prayer. "Have ye a witness?"
"A witness?" Archie asked, glancing at Clara. He hadn't thought about a witness. Father Rickards sighed heavily. "Ye cannae have a marriage without-" As if summoned by some godly force, the doors to the church opened and both Clara and Archie turned to see Caoimhe closing them behind her and rushing down the aisle.
"Caoimhe!" Archie exclaimed with joy, standing up to embrace his cousin. "What on earth are ye doin' here?"
"Somethin' told me that I needed te be here. Yer sisters send their love," said Caoimhe with a bemused smile, and then she looked down at Clara, sharing that kind smile with her. "I cannae tell ye how happy I am te see ye here, Clara."
"I'm glad you're here as well, Miss Fowlis," said Clara politely.
"Please, we'll be family soon. Call me Caoimhe. Here, I brought ye this," Caoimhe told her kindly, giving her a sheer pearl-coloured silk cloth to use as a veil. Out of the corner of his eye, Archie caught sight of movement, and when he looked up, he saw Granny standing in the corner of the church. She smiled and waved at him , and Archie returned the smile. Thank ye, Granny, he thought, unsure if she could hear him. He then turned his attention back to his blushing bride, kneeling down beside her once again.
"Right, now we have a witness, this marriage can proceed," said Father Rickards, clearing his throat. "Dearly beloved friends, we are gathered here in the sight of God, and in the face of his congregation, te join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony, which is an honourable state, instituted of God in Paradise…" Father Rickards's voice trailed off as Archie and Clara exchanged a look, and her cheeks turned pink. She looked so beautiful, with the white of the veil contrasting greatly and beautifully with her dark hair and olive skin. It framed her face beautifully and she looked like an angel. She was the love of Archie's heart and his soul, and it turned out that he was the love of hers. Archie would have never expected this… How was he so fortunate to have met such a rare woman, and to have such a wonderful and supportive family as he did in his sisters and cousin? He'd have to think about what Auntie Jocasta, Mama and Da thought later.
Father Rickards droned on about God and the importance of marriage as a union before he finally got to the part right before the vows. "I require and charge ye, as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgement, when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if either of ye do know any impediment, why ye may no' be lawfully joined together in Matrimony, that ye confess it. For ye be well assured, tha' so many as be coupled together, otherwise than God's word doth allow, are not joined together by God, neither is their Matrimony lawful. Other than the fact tha' the lass is promised te another and yer Catholic, lad."
"None, Father," Archie told him with his head still bowed and his hands still folded in prayer. He wished he'd been holding a rosary in his hands, but it was bad enough that he was marrying in a Presbyterian church as a Catholic.
"And ye, lass?" asked Father Rickards, and Clara glanced up at him.
"None," she said. "My heart belongs to Archie only, and my body and soul ought to as well."
"Verra well," said Father Rickards. "State yer names, in full."
"Archie Brian James Fowlis Fraser," said Archie.
"Clara Anne Catherine Ainsley," Clara said, and Archie smiled slightly at her.
"Wilt thou, Archie Brian James Fowlis Fraser, have this woman, Clara Anne Catherine Ainsley, te thy wedded wife, te live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour and keep her, in sickness and in health? And forsakin' all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?" asked Father Rickards.
"I will," said Archie, and then he looked at Clara. "Always."
"Wilt thou, Clara Anne Catherine Ainsley, have this man, Archie Brian James Fowlis Fraser, te thy wedded husband, te live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him and serve him, love, honour and keep him, in sickness and in health? And forsakin' all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?" Father Rickards asked Clara.
"I will," said Clara. "Always."
"I take it tha' no one giveth this woman te be marrit unto this man?" asked Father Rickards, knowing the answer already.
"She gives herself, of course," Caoimhe chimed in, and Clara nodded.
"Yes. I give myself, as I am my own free individual," she told him.
"Hmph," said Father Rickards with disapproval. "Face each other now, and grasp hands." Clara and Archie did as they were told, still on their knees but now tightly grasping each other's hands. "Now, ye'll recite the vows…" First, he recited the vow, which Archie then repeated.
"I, Archie Brian James Fowlis Fraser, take thee, Clara Anne Catherine Ainsley, te my wedded wife, te have and te hold from this day forward, fer better, fer worse, fer richer, fer poorer, in sickness, and in health, te love and te cherish, till death us depart; accordin' te God's holy ordinance, and thereto I plight thee my troth," Archie repeated, and then he cleared his throat. "And given tha' we've come here in secret… I swear te give ye my name, my body, and my soul, and te protect ye wi' everrathin' I have. Ye will ken no harm, so long as my heart beats." Clara smiled softly at him. Father Rickards then recited Clara's vows, which she repeated.
"I, Clara Anne Catherine Ainsley, take thee, Archie Brian James Fowlis Fraser, to my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness, and in health, to love, cherish and obey, till death us depart; according to God's holy ordinance, and thereto I give thee my troth," Clara repeated. "And I swear to always honour this vow, and to never look back on what I am leaving behind. I swear to always look forward upon the life that we share."
"Now, I shall take the ring," said Father Rickards, and Archie's eyes widened.
"Um…" he said quietly.
"Christ, lad. Dinnae tell me ye forgot the ring!" exclaimed Father Rickards.
"Take this," said Caoimhe, reaching around her neck and removing a golden chain. She dropped something into her hand and handed it to Archie, who's eyes widened. "It… was my mother's. Daddy let me have it, before she… Just take it."
"Caoimhe… I cannae take this," Archie told her, his eyes wide in shock.
"Consider it a loan. Ye can give it back once ye have one meant fer Clara," Caoimhe told him, and then she placed it in the palm of Father Rickards.
"Right," said Father Rickards, who was a spectator to all of this. "Surely, ye at least ken where te put the ring?" Up yer arse, along wi' my foot, ye snide bastard, Archie thought to himself as he nodded.
"Aye, I do," Archie answered him, sliding the ring onto Clara's left ring finger. He listened to Father Rickards recite the vow, and then he repeated it: "With this ring I thee wed: wi' my body I thee worship: and wi' all of my worldly goods, I thee endow. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen."
"Amen," said Clara, watching as Archie bent down and kissed her hand. Father Rickards then joined their hands together, signing a cross over it.
"Those whom God hath joined together, let no man put a sonder," he said, and then he cleared his throat. "Fer as much as Archie Brian James Fowlis Fraser and Clara Anne Catherine Ainsley have consented together in Holy wedlock, and hae witnessed the same before God, and this… company…" He referred to Caoimhe. "…and thereto hae declared the same by givin' and receivin' of a ring, and by joinin' of hands, I pronounce tha' they be man and wife together. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. Amen."
"Well, when ye say 'ghost', it sounds frightenin'. 'Spirit' is much more invitin'," said Archie, and Clara giggled.
"Amen," said Father Rickards firmly.
"Amen," said Archie and Clara together, and Archie smiled warmly at her.
"May I kiss my bride now?" Archie asked Father Rickards, who made a face.
"God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Ghost, bless, preserve and keep ye, the Lord mercifully wi' his favour look upon ye and so fill ye wi' all spiritual benediction, and grace tha' ye may so live together in this life, tha' in the world te come, ye may hae life everlastin'. Amen," he said quickly, waving them off, and when he turned, Archie took Clara's face in his hands and pressed his lips against hers - modestly, of course.
"Hello te ye, Mrs. Fraser," Archie told her, and she smiled and blushed at hearing her new name.
"Hello as well, Mr. Fraser," she replied shyly, but happily.
"The certificate, if ye dinnae mind, and then I'd like te go te sleep. I imagine I'll have te deal wi' Mr. Ainsley in the mornin'," said Father Rickards, and Clara and Archie signed as the bride and groom, while Caoimhe signed as the witness.
This is to certify that Archie B. J. F. Fraser of Fraser's Ridge, N.C. and Clara A. C. Ainsley of Wilmington, N.C. were united together on the Third day of December in the year of our Lord One Thousand Seven Hundred and Sixty-Nine in the presence of Caoimhe Fowlis.
River Run, North Carolina
Archie led Clara up the stairs of River Run, praying that no one would see them. He was incredibly grateful that no one was up yet, although they would be, soon. Once Clara was inside, Archie closed the door behind her, and then he awkwardly cleared his throat. "Um… I'll relight the fire," he said, crossing the room to the fireplace. He could feel Clara watching him in silence as he blew on the embers to reignite the flames, and when he stood back up, he found that she hadn't moved. "I… imagine yer tired…"
"On my wedding night?" Clara asked him a bit meekly.
"Um… if… if ye arenae ready fer that, we can wait," Archie told her, suddenly a bit shy, and she smiled as her cheeks turned pink.
"I'm all right," she told him, definitely with more confidence than Archie had. She approached him with her hands behind her back, stopping in front of him and meeting his eyes. "Have you ever… laid with a woman before?"
"Um… I… I'm afraid te say that… I have," Archie told her a bit shyly, looking away.
"That's all right," she said, taking him by surprise. "I suppose that… one of us should know what they're doing. Better it be you than me."
"Aye," said Archie, looking at her again and smiling a little. "We… probably dinnae have much time before the servants are awake and aboot the house."
"Suppose we shouldn't waste time then," Clara told him. She raised one hand to touch his arm, running her fingers up to the collar of his coat. She raised her other hand to meet the first one and went to untie his cravat. Archie reacted by taking her waist in his hands and holding onto her while she did so, and then she dropped it to the floor. Next, her fingers went to the buttons of his coat and undid them slowly, sliding the coat off of his shoulders and onto the ground.
"Is it… a wee bit warm in here, or is it jus' me?" Archie asked her quietly, and she smiled a little.
"I think it is a little warm in here," she answered him. "Perhaps I should take off my cloak, too."
"Um… a-allow me," said Archie, helping her with the ties of her cloak. His hands were shaking too much, and Clara laughed and took over, then turned around so Archie could slide the cloak off of her shoulders. She was left in a lovely pale blue dressing gown - it seemed that was all she had put on, as beneath that was her shift. Archie's cheeks turned pink when he realised how little she was wearing, and she giggled when she saw his face.
"I take it you've… seen a woman before in such a state," she asked him softly.
"Um… Aye, and… in l-less… But none of them are as respectful as ye are," he told her, and then he raised one hand to gently caress her face. "Nor as lovely, or bonny…"
"I can't say the same," she told him, fingering the buttons of his vest. "I've been curious, though… I've never… seen a man before."
"We're no' so bad," Archie told her, giving her a nervous smile. "No' nearly as bonny as a lass, but we're tolerable." She smiled and giggled gently, breathing out a small sigh.
"It's so warm in here…" she uttered, and then she untied the dressing gown that she was wearing and let it fall to her feet, leaving her in just her shift. Archie's eyes widened when she revealed herself. She had wee bonny, mature breasts that were just barely visible underneath the sheer fabric of her shift - he could tell by the sight of her dark nipples - and she blushed a little and raised her hands to start on the buttons of his vest. He didn't say anything, but instead, allowed her to undo the buttons and slide it off of his shoulders, joining the rest of the clothes on the ground. Next, Archie pulled off his shoes, then his stockings, leaving him only in his breeks and shirt. Seeing that she was in much less than he was, he undid his belt and breeks, slipping out of them and setting them aside. His shirt was long and fell nearly to his knees, but curiosity was clearly getting the better of Clara.
"I… wonder what yer father will think when… he finds ye've gone," Archie said to her softly, blushing as her eyes gazed down and her fingertips brushed the bottom of his shirt.
"I don't care," she answered him, and then she lifted her head to look at him. "All I care about is you, Archie. Papa, George, their banks… All of that is behind me now. I vowed that I will always look forward, never back… So whatever my father has to say is no concern of mine." Archie nodded softly, watching as she stepped back and untied her shift, and when it fell gracefully to the ground, looking at her feet, he could not stop himself from staring at her beautiful, Venus-like body.
"Christ," he muttered as he took her in. "You are… the most beautiful woman I've ever seen…" She smiled at him, then approached him and placed her hands on his chest.
"Your turn," she whispered. "I want to see you, too." Archie nodded gently, a bit nervous still, but a little more confident now. He stepped back to give himself some room and pulled his shirt off over his head, tossing it aside, and watched as Clara's eyes widened at the sight of him. "So that's what a man looks like… It's… it's very big, isn't it?" Archie chuckled a little to mask his nerves.
"Ah, dinnae fash. It… finds its way te fit," he told her, unsure of how to respond to that. Then she approached him, pressing her nude body up against his, and brought his face down so she could kiss him.
"Show me," she whispered to him.
3 December, 1769
Cross Creek, North Carolina
LEAH POV
Mr. Ainsley and Henry had gone to breakfast with Mr. Underwood and his family before the wedding, so Leah went to Clara's room to see how her daughter was. When she arrived, she found the note left by her daughter, and she smiled gently, glad that Clara had taken her life into her own hands.
Leah asked the servants to keep the news of Clara's disappearance to themselves, wanting the small enjoyment that she would get out of watching her husband lose his head over the news. She didn't utter a word as she arrived at the church, smiling only to herself and pretending that she was happy to see the union of her daughter and Mr. Underwood. Mr. Underwood was at the altar, checking his pocket watch periodically, and Mr. Ainsley's face was getting more and more purple by the moment.
"Where is she?" Mr. Ainsley demanded from Leah angrily.
"I do not know," she answered him honestly. She had a suspicion, but didn't dare share that piece of information.
"Father Rickards," came Mr. Underwood's voice, and Father Rickards appeared.
"Beggin' yer pardon, sir," said Father Rickards.
"I do hope you will forgive my bride for such a transgression," said Mr. Underwood snidely. "I assure you that I will see she is punished."
"I, too, shall see that she is punished as well!" cried Mr. Ainsley. "What an embarrassment!"
"I do have news of yer daughter, Mr. Ainsley," Father Rickards told him. "This last night, Miss Ainsley came te me on the arm of a man - a red-haired man - and demanded tha' they be wed."
"And did you? Marry them?" Mr. Underwood asked, his own face starting to turn red.
"The girl was quite persuasive," said Father Rickards. "She said ye'd agreed, and promised a grand donation te be made in yer name, Mr. Ainsley! I do hope that ye willnae go back on that promise…"
"I have made no such promise!" Mr. Ainsley shouted. "You allowed my daughter to be kidnapped and-and married to that Scottish fiend!"
"Which Scottish fiend?" demanded Mr. Underwood. "Who stole away my bride?"
"Who else but Archie Fraser?" Mr. Ainsley snapped at him. "The great-nephew of Mistress Cameron!"
"How dare he? To steal away a woman of a much higher status than himself? Has he demanded a ransom?" demanded Mr. Underwood. While Mr. Ainsley and Mr. Underwood screamed their heads off about what had happened, Leah smiled slightly to herself. Clara was happy, and that was all that mattered - however, she did have a small fear of what those wealthy and powerful men could, and likely would, do to Archie.
