3 December, 1769
River Run, North Carolina
MAEVIS POV
"So kiss me and smile for me,
Tell me that you'll wait for me.
Hold me like you'll never let me go…
'Cause I'm leaving on a jet plane,
I don't know when I'll be back again…
Oh babe, I hate to go…"
Ginnie clapped her little hands together as Maevis sang her a little song to entertain the little girl, and Maevis chuckled gently. "You're so cute, Ginnie… You probably don't even know what a jet plane is, do you?" Maevis asked her, and Ginnie held up a little doll that Jocasta had bought for her.
"Plane!" she said, and Maevis laughed.
"No, silly. That's a doll. A jet plane is… sort of like a big metal bird," Maevis told her, and Ginnie's green eyes widened.
"Bird? Bird!" she cried out. Ginnie's favourite thing, as of late, was birds, so whenever someone said the word 'bird', Ginnie would he all excited. Maevis laughed a little.
"No, there's no bird here… But a jet plane makes you feel like a bird. It gives you the ability to fly high above the ground. I don't know if I'll ever see one again… I've always thought the view was… absolutely beautiful." Staring off into the sky as if to look for a plane, Maevis sighed a little, realising she was no longer really talking to Ginnie. "What sort of songs does Mama sing to you, Ginnie? Do you have a favourite?"
"Mama sing?" Ginnie asked, looking up at Maevis with her sweet green eyes.
"Yeah, what's your favourite song?" Maevis asked her again, and Ginnie giggled excitedly.
"A-yee ba-yee!" she exclaimed.
"A-yee ba-yee- Oh! 'Ally Bally Bee'! Mama sings that to you, too?" Maevis asked her, smiling down at her little sister. "Mama sang that song to me, too, when I was a little girl. Shall we sing it together?"
"Ya!" Ginnie exclaimed, and Maevis cleared her throat.
"Ally Bally, ally Bally bee…
Sitting on your mommy's knee…
Greeting for a wee bawbee
To buy some Coulter's…"
She trailed off when she heard shouting off in the distance, and Maevis lifted her head to see Geordie Severs running towards River Run trying his hardest to hold his hat on his head. "Mamie, can you take Ginnie inside, please?" Maevis asked Mamie, who was always near Ginnie.
"Come along, Miss Ginnie," said Mamie, reaching out a hand to Ginnie. "Le's go and see about some custard."
"Cusard!" Ginnie exclaimed, jumping up and grabbing Mamie's hand before going inside right as Geordie, huffing and puffing, stopped at the porch.
"Geordie! Is everything all right?" Maevis asked him, a little alarmed.
"Someone's stolen a bride! Ouch, ouch, ouch!" Geordie exclaimed, stomping the ground with his foot and then bending over to catch his breath.
"Do you want some water?" Maevis asked, picking up a pitcher of water, pouring him a glass and handing it to him, which he gratefully accepted and downed in ten seconds, hiccoughing afterwards.
"Where… where's your brother?" Geordie said through exhaustion, and Maevis raised a brow.
"My brother? Um… I think he's here. I don't know for sure, he didn't come down for breakfast," Maevis replied.
"Yaaagh! Well, I h-hope he isn't here! Mr. Ainsley's in a f-fit! Tomato face!" Geordie exclaimed, and Maevis was now even more confused.
"Why would Mr. Ainsley be in a fit? Isn't his daughter marrying that banker man today?" Maevis asked him.
"W-was supposed to… Didn't," Geordie told her, and Maevis poured him another glass of water. "F-Father Rickards… sss-says… they eloped last night."
"Who's they? Clara Ainsley and the banker?" Maevis asked him.
"N-NN-No, Miss Fraser," said Geordie, painfully suppressing a tick and directing it into stomping the ground lightly. "Y-Your brother!"
"Archie?" Maevis asked, and then her jaw dropped as it dawned on her. "Archie eloped with Clara?" Geordie nodded wordlessly, still fighting off his ticks.
"If-f he's… h-here… t-tell him… he must go!" Geordie said to her, and both of them looked up at the road to see the carriage containing Jocasta, Ulysses and Lord John coming up the path.
"Shit… Thank you, Geordie!" Maevis said to him, and then she turned and ran inside, lifting her skirt so she didn't trip as she ran up the stairs. When she arrived at Archie's room, she started banging on the door rather loudly. "Archie!" she called. "Archie, if you're in there, open up!" The door to Brèagha and Maevis's room opened and Brèagha's curly red head popped out, her face scrunched up in irritation.
"Must ye shout so loudly?" Brèagha demanded from her.
"Brèagha!" Maevis exclaimed as Archie's door opened to reveal a groggy and disgruntled Archie, who's long red curls were hanging loose.
"Christ, wha's the meanin' of this?" he asked a bit groggily, rubbing sleep out of his eye.
"Did you elope with Clara Ainsley last night?" Maevis asked him, and Archie suddenly perked up, looking up first at Brèagha, and then at Caoimhe, who's door also opened.
"Is everrathin' all right? It isnae the bairns, is it?" she asked with alarm.
"No, we're fine," Brèagha replied to her.
"Enough with the distractions! Seriously, Archie! Did you elope with Clara Ainsley?" Maevis asked him.
"You didn't tell your sisters?" came a small voice from inside, and from underneath Archie's arm appeared Clara, who looked as if she had been sleeping rather deeply. Maevis's eyes widened when she saw Clara behind Archie, and then she turned and looked at Brèagha and Caoimhe.
"Did you know about this?" Maevis asked them both.
"I was there fer it, and Bree said ye kent before I left," Caoimhe replied.
"Oh, no…" Clara muttered quietly, covering her mouth with her hand. "My father knows, doesn't he?"
"I assume neither of you were friends with the priest? He ratted you out. Apparently, Mr. Ainsley's pissed," Maevis told them both sternly, and Archie ran his palm down his face and groaned.
"Christ," he muttered softly. "I… I thought we had more time…" The grand door opened downstairs and Jocasta's loud voice could be heard echoing through the halls.
"Ulysses, fetch my nephew te my study," she said in a demanding tone, and the Fraser siblings all exchanged a glance.
"Go! We'll stall them!" Maevis said to him, and Archie closed the door to the bedroom and Maevis turned to face the stairs as Ulysses climbed them.
ARCHIE POV
"Oh, dear, oh dear! Whatever will we do?" Clara asked her new husband nervously. "We should have left! Oh, why did we stay here? I knew we should have left…"
"Well, tha's sort of out the window now, isnae it?" Archie asked her, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to think.
"The window! We can escape out the window!" Clara gasped, pointing to the window.
"Clara, there's nothin' te break our fall out of those windows! I'll no' have ye breakin' yer legs," Archie said to her, and she huffed.
"Then what do you suggest we do?" she asked him irritably, standing with both hands on her hips.
"We're backed into a corner. Our only way out is te face it," Archie told her, letting out a soft sigh, and Clara scoffed.
"Are you telling me we should face my father? After you stole me away from his choice of a husband?" she asked him incredulously.
"Strange, I remember ye comin' wi' me verra willingly," Archie said to her a bit playfully.
"He will not see it that way! Archie, you must take this seriously!" Clara begged him, but then Archie scoffed next.
"I'm not afraid of yer father, Clara. I've faced more crude adversaries before," he told her.
"Perhaps you should be. My father is one of the most skilled duellists in North Carolina!" Clara told him. "Have you ever even duelled someone before, Archie?"
"Er… I have not… But I have shot and killed someone," Archie told her, trying to sound tougher than he was, despite knowing how that killing had affected him.
"That isn't enough! Oh, that isn't enough…" she cried, sitting down on the bed and burying her face in her hands. "We should have never done this… Now my father is going to hurt you and it'll be all my fault!"
"Clara, mo ghràidh," said Archie, sitting down beside her and pulling her into his arms. He kissed the top of her head and rested his cheek against her hair. "It'll be all right. I'll figure somethin' out. I dinnae ken how… but I will."
"My father can be vile, Archie. I'm afraid for you, truly," Clara told him, pulling back to look at him.
"Then I'll no' let him think that I'm afraid of him," Archie told her with confidence. "We're no' runnin' away. We've done nothin' wrong. It isnae illegal te marry the one ye love, and if my mother taught me anythin', it's tha' fathers dinnae own their daughters. We just… have te face what's te come."
"And that's what I'm afraid of," Clara muttered softly. "What people will think… I've never done something such as this."
"My family's gone against the grain fer as long as my bloodline's been livin'," said Archie, chuckling softly. "Dinnae fash, mo ghràidh. No harm will come te ye. I'll make damn sure of it."
"And what about you?" Clara asked him again, and Archie sighed softly.
"I supposed I'd best get good at dodgin' bullets," Archie replied. "Speakin' of bullets te dodge, I believe I need te have a word wi' my aunt. Though I'm no' sorry fer marryin' ye, this is her house." He kissed the top of her head again and stood to get dressed, fixing his hair so that it was neat again - well, as neat as his hair would allow itself to be. Archie had his mother's wild, untameable hair. When he went to the door, he paused to look back at Clara, who was clearly distressed. "Clara… No matter what happens, I love ye, and I regret nothing." She didn't answer him, but Archie knew what her answer would be had she spoken. He squared himself up and opened the door, ready to face the fires of Hell.
MAEVIS POV
"He's taking a bath! You can go and tell Aunt Jocasta that he'll be down soon," Maevis was saying to Ulysses, blocking his path to Archie's door.
"Mistress has asked me to personally deliver her nephew to her," Ulysses told Maevis calmly.
"I'm sure she doesnae want him wet and naked," said Caoimhe, chiming into the conversation. "Just go down te her, tell him he'll be out in a-" They were all cut off by the door to Archie's room opening and Archie himself, now put together nicely, emerged and closed the door behind him.
"Good day te ye, Ulysses," he said, glancing briefly at his sisters and cousin.
"Master Fraser, Mistress Cameron wishes to speak with you. Urgently," said Ulysses in response.
"Aye, I thought so. Shall we, then?" Archie asked Ulysses, who turned and made his way to the stairs. "Caoimhe, would ye mind checkin' on Clara? She's a wee bit stressed."
"Sure I can," said Caoimhe, going back into her room to fetch the bag of herbs that Mama had given her.
"Is everything okay?" Maevis asked Archie quietly, who nodded.
"Aye, she'll be fine," Archie said back to her, and Ulysses cleared his throat. "Aye, I'm comin'."
"Good luck," Maevis said, watching Archie follow Ulysses down the stairs. Caoimhe then emerged from her room and crossed the hall to knock on Archie's door, then entered.
"Good mornin', Clara! How're ye feelin'?" Caoimhe asked, shutting the door behind her. Maevis stood awkwardly in the corridor, her hands supporting her swollen belly, and then she glanced at Brèagha, who remained in the doorframe to their shared room.
"Why didn't you tell me that Archie was marrying Clara last night?" Maevis asked her.
"Ye were sleepin'. Didnae want te wake ye," said Brèagha a bit shortly, distracting herself by curling a strand of hair around her finger.
"Well, you could have woken me up, or at least told me this morning. I was completely blindsided when Geordie told me what happened," Maevis said to her, and Brèagha scoffed.
"Not everrathin' is aboot you," she said to her rather coldly, and suddenly, Maevis's vision turned red. She breathed out a heavy huff and clenched her fists at her side, wanting so badly to just slap her sister across the face, but resisting the urge.
"The only person that is making any part of this at all about me is you," Maevis spat at her. "You should have told me! I could have helped! I could have suggested they leave - because clearly, you and Caoimhe didn't."
"They wouldnae have even had te had ye not suggested he pursue her," Brèagha snapped back at her. "If ye didnae suggest he go off and kiss her, she'd have been marrit te Mr. Underwood and Archie wouldnae be in trouble just now!"
"And they'd both be miserable! You know Clara didn't want to marry Mr. Underwood and you know Archie would have been heartbroken!" Maevis shouted at her.
"Ye dinnae even ken Archie! Do ye think this is the first time he's been in love? No! Ye've only witnessed a wee part of his life, but I was there fer everrathin'! Fer everra 'lost love' he had te endure, fer everra lass who he claimed te love tha' marrit someone else!"
"And is that my fault? Is it my fault that I was born in a completely different time?"
"It isnae my fault, either!"
"I never said it was!" Maevis let out a harsh growl and reared on her sister. "Ever since I got here, you have been nothing but mean to me! What did I do to deserve it? Be born? That isn't exactly my fault, either, you know!"
"Ye irritate me! Everrathin' ye do! Ye dinnae ken anythin' aboot this time! Rory is missin', possibly even dead, because of ye, and now, Archie's gone off and eloped wi' a lass who was supposed te marry another! Who even kens what the consequences of tha' may be? Ye certainly didnae care!"
"Well, fuck, I can't do anything right for Miss Perfect, can I?" Maevis demanded from her, and Brèagha gasped.
"And ye have a foul mouth!" Brèagha snapped back at her, and Maevis scoffed.
"Damn, I should have just stayed where I was before. Then you wouldn't even have Rory to worry about, you wouldn't be pregnant - because apparently that's my fault, too, since I'm the reason Rory even came here in the first place - and Clara would be married to the rich, snobby and boring fuckhead and Archie wouldn't be in whatever fucking trouble he's going to get in! It sounds like everything would have been better if I had just stayed!" she shouted at her sister.
"Maybe it would have!" Brèagha shouted back, and then the door to Archie's room opened and Caoimhe poked her head out.
"Oi! Can the two of ye take this elsewhere? Yer shakin' the damn walls!" Caoimhe snapped at them both, and then she closed the door again. Maevis, in her anger, paced a little down the hall, and then she turned to face Brèagha, her hand resting protectively on her belly.
"You know, my life was pretty fucked up, too," Maevis said to her. "I was sent away from my home and my family when I was seven years old because my uncle wanted to kill me. Then I found out that the man who I thought was my father wasn't actually my father, and then I found out that that man had selfishly sent away my twin brother because he couldn't stand to look at my real father's face! And then it was so hard to get Elton to trust me and believe me… And then I found out that my entire family was four hundred years in the fucking past, making me question everything that I have ever known about myself, my mother, even this whole goddamn world! And then I gave up everything to come here so I could be with my family again! I had a life, Brèagha! I had friends! I was going to be a doctor! I had hobbies! I liked to sing Sandy Denny songs at this little cafe on the weekends when I wasn't struggling with organic chemistry or biology or physics… I was invested in the relationship of my two best friends, who were Lilibet and Gaia, and I will never see them again and they will never know why I just suddenly stopped talking to them! And when I did give all of that up, I got fucking raped and now all of these people who don't even know me are saying horrible things like 'I did this to myself' or are calling me a whore. And on top of all of that, I have to deal with the same judgemental bullshit from my own sister!" She paused for a moment as she looked at Brèagha, who's face remained unchanged. "I admired you… I was so excited to meet you. When I found out I had a big sister, I was so excited because I thought I was alone in the world! But it turns out that I still am." She paused again, fighting off the urge to cry, knowing that Brèagha would probably mock her for that, too. "You have no idea what I've been through… I never meant to hurt you or take away anything from you... All I wanted was a sister."
With the urge to cry getting more powerful, Maevis quickly strode past Brèagha and made for the stairs, desperate for solitude.
ARCHIE POV
Archie followed Ulysses quietly down the stairs and to Jocasta's study, where she seemed to be waiting somewhat impatiently for him. "Your nephew, Mistress," said Ulysses, announcing Archie's presence, and he nodded softly to her, even though she couldn't see.
"Auntie," he said.
"Thank ye, Ulysses. Leave us now," said Jocasta neutrally, waving him away, and Ulysses backed out of the study and closed the door. Archie glanced a bit nervously around Jocasta's study, wondering exactly what this meeting was going to entail. After several moments, she scoffed and turned her head towards the fire, her hand gripping the head of her cane firmly. "Do ye have any idea what ye've done?" she asked him softly. "Miss Ainsley was te marry Mr. Underwood and form a union between the Ainsleys and the Underwoods. They were te join their banks together, bring great fortune te North Carolina. Surely, ye have no idea of what ye've done."
"I have," Archie answered her, not wanting to hear this spiel about George Underwood. "I've marrit the love of my life, and she has marrit hers." Jocasta scoffed again.
"Love," she said, as if the word itself disgusted her. "Ye've too much of yer mother's influence in ye. Love prevents greatness."
"I disagree," Archie said to her. "I think love is one of the greatest treasures anyone can have, man or woman."
"Miss Ainsley would have lived well. I dinnae think she will be sae grateful fer 'love' when she learns of how she will be livin' as yer wife," said Jocasta a bit harshly.
"Clara is well aware of what she gave up, and I'll thank ye te refer te my wife either by her name or as 'Mrs. Fraser'," Archie told her, equally firmly.
"Ye've been raised te be a fool, and yer father is a fool, as well. Yer all blind te what yer mother has done te yer minds," Jocasta said rather crudely.
"My mother has been wonderful and the best tha' she could be te me, and tha's more than I can say fer others," Archie told her. "Isnae it important fer a mother te love her children and raise them te be good people rather than te step on others te raise themselves up?"
"Of course ye would say that. All children believe their mothers are wonderful, even if the mothers are terrible," Jocasta told him, and this statement pissed Archie off to no end. He approached his aunt and knelt down in front of her, getting close to her face so she could sense exactly how firm he was being.
"Ye willnae speak poorly of my mother. She has done more in her life fer the benefit of others and myself and my siblin's than you have ever done," Archie warned her. "Ye cannae judge my mother fer what she's done. Tell me, where the hell are your children?" Jocasta only scoffed again at him.
"I may no' be able te see ye, but I can hear the Mackenzie in ye," she told him.
"I am not a Mackenzie," Archie growled at her. "I am a Fraser first, and a Fowlis second. Not a Mackenzie."
"Mackenzies are destined fer greatness. Frasers, too. Fowlis is a name associated wi' barbarians," Jocasta told him, and Archie stood up and walked away to refrain from knocking her out.
"Ye've no idea what Clan Fowlis has done fer it's people," Archie snapped at her with his back turned to her. "My grandsire protected the people of Barra from the clearances and even offered homes te people who were forcibly ripped from theirs in other parts of Scotland! My grandsire is te thank fer any semblance of clan life before the English took everrathin' fer us! My uncle carries on his legacy, and my mother is one of the greatest women te ever live! Yer Mackenzies have done nothin' but stir up trouble fer the rest of Scotland! They believe they're gods, but they're nae more than mortal men!"
"Ye may not like it, but ye've Mackenzie blood in ye. Dinnae forget that yer father is half Mackenzie," Jocasta shot back at him. "As fer yer Fowlis clan, surely ye ken tha' everra story contains a few drops from puddles of truth."
"Aye, wee drops. Drops tha' could be from the bottom of the puddle, where all the silt as settled, or the top, which glistens in the sun," Archie spat back at her. "I'll not listen te ye insult my family, nor will I be scolded by ye. If tha' means I must leave yer land and never return, I'd be glad te."
"Archie!" Jocasta scolded him as Archie made his way towards the door, but he was nearly hit when the doors flew open and in came the storming fury of Mr. Ainsley and a few men from Cross Creek on his tail.
"You! Where is my daughter, you foul heathen? How dare you steal her away?" demanded the hell fury that was Mr. Ainsley, pointing a pistol at Archie's chest as Archie tried to back away from him.
"Mr. Ainsley, if you will please remain calm!" came Lord John's voice over the shouting.
"He has a pistol!" Ulysses shouted to alert Jocasta, who let out a squeal and stood up.
"Oh, goodness! Amos, you must get that gun out of my house!" Jocasta ordered Mr. Ainsley, who was relentless.
"Not until this fiend returns my daughter to me!" Mr. Ainsley growled through gritted teeth at Archie, shoving the pistol into Archie's sternum.
"Oh, now ye care aboot her? It didnae seem like ye did before, marryin' her off te a cruel bastard!" Archie snapped back at him.
"Enough, Archie!" Jocasta snapped at him. "Amos, put it down." Mr. Ainsley glared furiously at Archie and glanced briefly at Jocasta, then stepped back and lowered his pistol out of respect for her. "Surely, we can come te a solution fer this calamity."
"I want that bastard hanged for kidnapping and violating my daughter!" Mr. Ainsley shouted again, waving the pistol around.
"She wasnae kidnapped! She came willingly!" Archie snapped at him.
"Archie!" Jocasta snapped at him to shut him up. "Is the marriage even valid?"
"Aye, 'tis!" came the voice of Father Rickards, and he waved a document in the air. "I've the certificate here! Signed by both parties and a witness!"
"Who would witness such a thing?" demanded one of the men in the group behind Mr. Ainsley.
"I'll have that!" shouted Mr. Ainsley, snatching the certificate and making for the fire.
"Like hell ye will!" Archie shouted, grabbing at the certificate.
"Enough of this, gentlemen!" shouted Lord John, coming in between Archie and Mr. Ainsley and grabbing the marriage certificate from them both. "Burning this piece of parchment is no solution!"
"It certainly willnae dissolve the marriage," said Jocasta with a scoff. "We must simply procure a divorce. Ulysses, send fer Mr. Forbes, if ye dinnae mind."
"Ye cannae force us te divorce if we willnae agree te it," Archie snapped at her. "And we willnae."
"Then I demand a duel!" shouted Mr. Ainsley, practically spitting at Archie like a fat angry cat. "I challenge you to a duel, Mr. Fraser, for my daughter's honour!"
"Come now, Amos, that isnae necessary," said Jocasta.
"'Tis fair, I'd say," said Father Rickards stupidly.
"I accept yer challenge, Mr. Ainsley," said Archie.
"Archie! What will your parents think?" Lord John chimed in incredulously.
"They'll think me a fool, but I dinnae care. I'm an adult, am I no'? I'm verra nearly twenty-six years auld," Archie said to him firmly.
"And wi' the way yer actin', I'd say ye were half that, lad," said Jocasta calmly, and Archie hoped she could feel the heat of his glare boring into her.
"I accept yer challenge, Mr. Ainsley," said Archie calmly to Clara's purple-faced father.
"Sunday next, then. A week," said Mr. Ainsley sharply.
"I look forward te it," said Archie, trying to give off an air of confidence, but in truth, he was quite terrified. He offered a hand to Mr. Ainsley to secure the deal, but Mr. Ainsley did not accept.
"Then I shall serve as Archie's second," said Lord John with a heavy sigh.
"Goodness. Men are all fools wi' their duels," said Jocasta.
"Mistress Cameron, I apologise deeply for my behaviour, but I take matters involving my family quite seriously," said Mr. Ainsley to Jocasta, and he bowed to her and made for the door.
"'Twill be a shame to make your daughter a widow so quickly," said one of the men with Mr. Ainsley, following him.
"It will be but a mark on her past once she is wed properly to Mr. Underwood," Mr. Ainsley could be heard saying as the group cleared out of the study, and Jocasta clicked her tongue with disapproval.
"I hope ye've a will, lad. Mr. Ainsley is none te be trifled with," said Jocasta, and Archie scoffed lightly.
"So I've heard," he replied.
"Archie, have you ever even been in a duel before?" Lord John asked him.
"No, have ye?" Archie asked him.
"I have, in the military… And I also have years of military experience, which I know for certain you do not have," Lord John told him, an odd look on his face.
"Then I suppose ye'll have te help me," Archie said to him. "Ye heard him. I cannae allow him te subject Clara te George Underwood once I'm dead."
"Ye shouldnae have marrit her in the first place!" Jocasta exclaimed.
"I think it's a wee bit late fer 'should haves', isnae it?" Archie asked her. "I need te go and check on Clara… She's been verra distressed all mornin'." Archie nodded to both Lord John and Jocasta, then turned and left the study.
He wasn't going to hide the fact that he was terrified of a duel. He'd always been afraid of getting into one eventually, but felt more comfortable knowing his father had somehow gotten through life without getting challenged to a duel. Well, here Archie was doing just that, and of all times in his life, if Archie never needed his father before, he sure as hell needed him now. What would happen if Mr. Ainsley killed him in this duel? What would happen to his sisters, his cousin, the Ridge, his parents? Mama would be heartbroken and distressed if Archie got himself killed while she was away… Well, if there was anything he'd learned from his parents that he could use, it was the fact that the only way forward was through. He had to duel Mr. Ainsley, and for Clara's sake, he had to hope that he would live to tell the tale.
GEORDIE POV
After helping the grooms spread hay for the horses, Geordie went down to the river to fetch water to pour into the water troughs. It took him a couple of tries because the first time, he hurled the bucket into the river and had to go and fetch another one, and the second time, he turned the full bucket over and dumped it over his head. Dear God, will this cursed demon ever leave his body and allow him peace? As he walked along the path, he felt the urge to throw the bucket of water yet again and fought as hard as he could to resist it, so much so that it became painful. He set the bucket down and ran away from it as quickly as he could, releasing himself and kicking a tree stump. "AGH!" he cried out, laying on the ground and gripping his foot, and then he rolled onto his back and looked up at the sky, tears of frustration welling up in his eyes. "Why did you make me l-like this, God? Dear Lord, wh-what have I d-done to des…ssserve this?" There was no answer, of course, and Geordie just lay on the ground in silence with his foot throbbing, occasionally twitching and making small noises.
After a few minutes, Geordie thought he heard a sniffle, and he picked up his head and looked around for the source, but no direct source could be found. He did, however, deduce that the sound was coming from the willow tree by the river, so he got up and headed towards it. Pushing aside the vines of the willow tree, he caught a sight of bright orange hair, and realised that the back of Miss Maevis Fraser was facing him, and she was crying. "M-Miss Fraser?" Geordie said softly, and Miss Fraser gasped a little and whipped around to see who had spoken to her, and then she let out a small sigh.
"Oh… Hi, Geordie. Sorry, you… startled me a little," she said, turning back around and wiping her eyes with her sleeve.
"Are y-you all r-rrrr-right, Miss Fraser?" Geordie asked her, approaching her and kneeling down beside her, and she sighed a little. Geordie produced a handkerchief from his pocket and with a shaky hand, gave it to her, which she accepted.
"Thanks," she said, dabbing at her eyes. "I'm all right, just… I didn't know how difficult it could be to be part of a family."
"Oh a-aye," said Geordie. "Th-they have their moments." He chuckled softly. "But y-you can't help to l-love them, no?"
"I hope I still can," Miss Fraser told him, sighing softly. "My sister, Brèagha… I don't know what I did to make her hate me so much, besides being born and just existing… I've tried everything from being supportive and helping her through her pregnancy. She's been so sick and she has days where she can't even get out of bed… But everything I do seems to be for nothing because she still hates me!"
"Oh, I-I d-d-doubt she hates you, Miss Fraser," Geordie told her, and Miss Fraser scoffed lightly.
"She's all but said it," she replied. "And call me Maevis, Geordie. Miss Fraser just seems so… formal."
"Ah," said Geordie a bit awkwardly. Everyone always said that to him - 'Call me by my Christian name, my surname seems too formal coming from you'. It was always said with the individual looking down their nose at him and with an air of disgust. However, Miss Fraser didn't say it with an air of disgust - at least, not directed towards him. It seemed… different… coming from her. She never looked at him like he was broken, nor did she seem to feel sorry for him at all. She simply… treated him as if he were normal, looking right past the demon that lived within him. This demon that both she and her mother had named 'Tourettes'… Miss Fraser showed no fear towards Tourettes, unlike everyone else who spoke to him.
"Are you all right, Geordie?" Maevis asked him, drawing him out of his mind?
"Huh? T-t-tourettes! Tourettes… Ugh, sorry. That damn demon has been on m-m-my mind a lot t-today," he answered her, unable to suppress the outburst, and Miss Fraser smiled a little.
"I told you, it's not a demon. It's a neurological condition," she told him kindly.
"S-sssshh-shure feels like a d-demon," Geordie replied with a small huff.
"I bet it does," Miss Fraser replied. She sniffled one last time and wiped away any residual tears from her eyes before laying her hands in her lap - or rather, on her very swollen belly. "Nobody really knows what causes it - or rather, will know… I think it's mostly genetic, meaning it's a recessive gene that you'd have inherited from both of your parents."
"A r-re-ress… A what?" Geordie asked her, unable to spit out the word, and Miss Fraser giggled lightly.
"A recessive gene," she replied. "Genetics are things that we inherit from our parents, like my red hair, or your blue eyes. Both of my parents have red hair, so I have it, too, but if one of my parents had brown hair, then I'd probably have brown hair, as brown hair is the dominant gene while red hair is recessive. Recessive means that it's less likely to be expressed or inherited, but if both of your brown-haired parents had a recessive gene for, say, fair hair, then there's a one in four chance that you'd have fair hair."
"Oh, th-tha-that's fascinating," said Geordie with interest. "S-so you're saying… m-m-my parents are why I am th-this way?"
"Not directly, but… yes," Miss Fraser replied. "We don't get to choose what our children look like, sound like, what conditions they have…" She let out a small sigh, then looked down at her belly and rested her hand on it. "If it were my decision… these babies would look nothing like their father."
"Wh-what's he l-lll-like? If.. if you… d-don't mind me asking," said Geordie, his cheeks turning pink, and Miss Fraser let out a small huff.
"Like a monster," she told him bitterly. "He was hideous, filthy, crude…" She sighed a little. "Well, I guess he wasn't that hideous… Before he attacked me, I… thought he had a little bit of a handsome charm to him… But of course, that went away when he attacked me. I hate him so much, hate what he did to me… And I hate that these babies will have to carry a piece of him with them. It isn't fair… They'll grow up without a father, and the one they do know they have I hate with every ounce of my being."
"I-I couldn't imagine," said Geordie calmly, glancing down at her belly. He was the youngest of his brother and sisters, and a bit of a surprise, so he never knew his mother when she was expecting. In fact, this was the closest he'd ever been to a woman with child before. "P-perhaps there's a m-man who's halfway d-d-decent enough to… b-be a father to them."
"Maybe, but I couldn't allow a man to take this on," Miss Fraser replied. "It's my burden to bear, no one else's. I couldn't ask that of someone else."
"W-well… If h-he didn't mind, I… I im-magine he'd be h-happy to," Geordie said to her. "I mean y-you can't raise them on your own, c-can you?" Miss Fraser narrowed her eyes at him a little.
"I can, actually, and I will. I'll find a way," she said a bit firmly, and Geordie's cheeks turned pink.
"I-I-I'm s-sorry, M-Miss Fraser, I… I-I meant no offence…" he said, his eyes wide with fear that he'd insulted her, but she only sighed.
"It's fine. I just… forget sometimes that everyone around me is just a victim of their time," she said, which was a somewhat strange remark to make. "I should probably get back… but thanks for listening to me, Geordie. It's nice to have a friend to talk to, sometimes."
"Oh! O-of course! I-I'm here any time y-you want to talk!" Geordie said to her a little excitedly, and Miss Fraser chuckled lightly.
"You're very sweet," she said kindly, and Geordie's cheeks blushed. She went to stand, but struggled a little, so Geordie jumped up and helped her to stand, earning a small smile for his efforts. "I'll see you around, yeah?"
"A-aye, I… I'll be seeing you," he told her, giving her a bit of a goofy grin, and he watched as she walked off, meeting her eyes when she briefly glanced at him over her shoulder before continuing on to the house.
ARCHIE POV
"You accepted his challenge?" Clara demanded of Archie when he'd told her, and she let out a loud growl as she paced the floor. "Do you have any idea what you've done, Archie?"
"Tha's a question I've been asked a lot today," Archie told her, glancing briefly at Caoimhe, who shook her head at him.
"My father was in a duel once," she said. "He was fine, but the opponent, no' so much."
"Uncle Cailean was in a duel? When was this?" Archie asked his cousin.
"Few years ago, I think," Caoimhe replied. "He was kind te a lass and helped her carry things into her home, as she was wi' child. The husband didnae like it and challenged him te a duel. He was fine, but his pride surely was wounded after tha'."
"I can only hope I fare the same," said Archie, glancing at Clara.
"You won't be! My father is one of the best shots in the country! He'll kill you, Archie!" Clara exclaimed at him.
"A ghràidh, gabh air do shocair! Dinnae worry yerself, I'll be fine, I promise ye!" Archie said to her.
"You can't promise me that, Archie! Are you one of the best shots in the Carolinas?" Clara demanded from him, and Caoimhe snorted.
"Absolutely not," she said, and Archie glared at her before turning to his wife again.
"I'll practice everra day, I swear it. I'll no' rest until I'm well prepared fer this duel," he told her, but she only scoffed.
"That isn't enough! It isn't enough, Archie! Oh, God, he's going to kill you…" she moaned, and then she turned to Caoimhe. "Have you got any more of that… that calming tonic?"
"Definitely," said Caoimhe, picking up a bottle and pouring some tonic into a teacup for Clara, but Clara took the bottle when Caoimhe offered her the teacup and took a big swig of it, catching Caoimhe off guard a bit.
"I should have never run off. Then at least you'd be alive!" Clara said, pacing the room while holding the bottle by the neck at her side.
"I'm no' dead yet, Clara," Archie reminded her. "Lord John agreed te be my second. He'll train me. He has military service, ye ken. I believe he actually fought fer the English durin' the '45. I was there, ye ken. I was but a wee bairn at the time, but I was there." He was making an effort to distract her with one of his stories, but it didn't seem to work. She only groaned and took another swig of the tonic, and when she started to sway a little, Caoimhe stood up and took the bottle from her, then led her to the bed.
"All right, enough of this," she said, sitting Clara down on the bed. "Everrathin's goin' te be fine, Clara. Ye forget, Archie's both a Fraser and a Fowlis, hailin' from two of the toughest clans in Scotland."
"That doesn't mean anything to my father!" Clara cried out, laying down on the bed with Caoimhe's aid.
"Shh, shh, get some sleep, aye? Ye've stressed too much aboot this already," Caoimhe told her, covering her with a blanket.
"My father's going to kill him…" Clara muttered a bit sleepily.
"Shh, no he isnae," Caoimhe told him. Once Clara was settled, Caoimhe capped the bottle of tonic and put it away out of sight, then she approached Archie. "What's yer plan?"
"I'll train wi' Lord John. I'll start now, even," Archie told her. "He agreed te help me, in lieu of Da no' bein' here. Christ, I wish he were… And Mama, too."
"Ye think things would have gone differently if they were?" Caoimhe asked him softly, and Archie sighed.
"I dinnae ken," he said honestly. "I imagine Da would take over and duel Mr. Ainsley himself, and Mama might have been able te talk sense into Mr. Ainsley. She always had a gift fer that, ye ken."
"Aye, I do," Caoimhe told him, and then she sighed a little. "Clara willnae rest until the duel is over and ye've survived it. Ye must survive it, Archie."
"Aye, survivin' it would be nice," Archie replied, and then he sighed. "I'll go and speak wi' Lord John now… Will ye keep an eye on Clara fer me?"
"Of course. I may have te brew more tonic, though," said Caoimhe, her arms crossed across her chest. "Puir lass may verra we'll have te be sedated 'til the end of duel."
"If it'll keep her calm… I cannae focus on winnin' the duel if I'm worrit aboot her," Archie told his cousin, glancing at his sleeping wife.
"Dinnae fash, Archie. I'll take care of Clara. You just focus on survivin', aye?" Caoimhe asked him, and Archie nodded.
"Thank ye, Caoimhe. Truly," he said. "I'll go and have a word wi' Lord John." With that said, Archie turned and left the room, going out into the hall. He nodded briefly to a couple of servants who were cleaning the furniture and ducked into a small closet space, hoping for a chance to breathe. He sat down in a chair, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "What the hell have I gotten into?" he asked himself quietly.
"Aye, what have ye gotten yerself into, a ghille ruadh?" came a male voice, and Archie nearly jumped a foot in the air in shock.
"What the hell?" he exclaimed, looking around the room, but he was completely and totally alone. He turned around in the chair and looked behind him. "Hello?"
"Hello, Archie," said the voice in front of him, and Archie let out a shriek of surprise as he whipped around and found, of all people, his grandsire standing in front of him leaning against the wall. He was much younger than he had been when Archie had last seen him. Instead of the snowy white hair and wrinkled face, Eairdsidh Ruadh Fowlis's weathered face was much younger, and his hair was a bright and vivacious autumn orange. As a matter of fact, Archie was shocked by the appearance of this younger version of his grandsire - it was like looking in a mirror! Archie stood up, his silvery Fowlis eyes wide as he approached this younger man, who looked to be the same age as Archie, almost.
"G-Grandsire?" Archie asked him softly, and a small smile spread across the other man's lips.
"Sorry te have taken so long te come and see ye, a ghille," said Grandsire, smiling with pride at his now grown grandson. "My, how ye've grown. Ye were just a lad when I saw ye last."
"Aye… T-time does that. Makes ye grow," Archie said to him softly and numbly, and Grandsire chuckled a little.
"I wouldnae have expected ye to look as I did when I was yer age," Grandsire told him.
"N-neither did I," Archie told him, still in shock. "How… Yer not… auld…"
"No' many in the afterlife choose te be auld, a ghille," Archie told him. "Yer grandmother didnae, either. Yer Grandsire, on the other hand, seems te have remained his age when he died. He says he was happiest at tha' age."
"You… Ye saw him? Yer son?" Archie asked his grandsire with wide eyes, and Grandsire smiled.
"There are benefits te bein' dead," Grandsire told him. "Ye reunite wi' all those ye've lost. Yer Grandsire bein' one of them."
"I… I'm glad of that… Glad tha' ye've reunited, I mean," Archie said to him. "What… What are ye doin' here?"
"A wee birdie told me ye've been challenged te a duel," Grandsire told him, and Archie scoffed.
"Aye, by my wife's father," Archie said to him, and Grandsire chuckled warmly.
"Ye remind me of myself," he said. "Yer grandmother's uncle, Angus MacLeod, challenged me te a duel when I marrit her."
"He did?" Archie asked with wide eyes. "Did ye duel him?"
"No," said Grandsire with a chuckle. "No, my mother worked hard te settle wi' him after our marriage. But I would have, had she not."
"Oh," said Archie. "Have ye ever been in a duel before?"
"A man is lucky if he can avoid a duel, and thankfully, I was quite fortunate," Grandsire told him, and Archie scoffed lightly.
"I suppose I'm no' so lucky then," he said with disappointment.
"I'd say ye are," Grandsire told him. "I cannae stay, but I've come te tell ye te prepare fer this. A duel isnae te be taken lightly. Ye must work on yer aim, lad. If yer anythin' like yer mother, I imagine ye'll be a natural." Archie scoffed again.
"I suppose I've everrathin' of her except fer that," Archie told him, and then Grandsire gave him a stern look.
"Then ye must practice," Grandsire told him. "I dinnae want te see ye in the afterlife so soon."
"Practice, aye? Practice? Is that all anyone has te say te me?" Archie demanded, letting out a huff and pacing the room. "I've a week te perfect my aim. A week. And if I cannae perfect my aim, everraone's all but sayin' I'm as good as dead, so if ye have any further advice-" He looked back up at his grandsire, only to find that he was alone once again, and he let out a harsh growl. "Damn it!" he exclaimed, and then he huffed and sat back in the chair. "Practice… I'll do the best that I damned well can, but will it be enough?" No one answered him, so he leaned back in the chair and sighed. "I suppose I'll just have te make it enough…" With the decision made, he stood back up and brushed any dust off his coat. He looked back and where his grandsire had been standing only moments before, then nodded subtly. "Ye willnae see me in the afterlife so soon, Grandsire. I'll make damn sure of it."
6 December, 1769
The pistol fired, but none of the glass bottles that were twenty paces away from him didn't shatter, meaning he failed to hit them. Archie let out a firm huff as Lord John appeared beside him. "You have to focus, Archie. You have four days until the duel," Lord John told him.
"Thank ye fer that verra obvious and unhelpful information, John," Archie said to him irritably as he reloaded the pistol.
"Why don't ye try and hit the bottle this time?" Caoimhe called to him, and Archie looked over his shoulder at her and sent her a fierce glare.
"Why don't you give it a go, then? Have ye ever even shot a gun before?" Archie demanded of his cousin, who stood up to accept his challenge.
"I have, although I'm better wi' a blade," Caoimhe told him, descending the stairs of the porch and accepting the pistol from him. "Auntie taught me how te throw knives. She said it's helped her in the past te be able te do so, and that it might help me, someday."
"Good God. What reason has your aunt ever had to throw a knife to protect herself for?" Lord John asked the two of them.
"She said she was in a glade and she and Uncle Jamie were bein' attacked by two redcoat deserters," Caoimhe told him as she inspected the pistol in her hands. "She said she stabbed the one who was tryin' te rape her in the back, then took the knife and threw it into the throat of the one who had a gun on Uncle Jamie."
"Christ," Archie muttered. "I dinnae remember that story."
"I think it was before ye were born," Caoimhe told him, deciding that the pistol was acceptable and cocking it. Archie stepped back to allow her some room and he watched as she took aim and fired, shattering one of the bottles that had been set up. Archie scoffed loudly as Caoimhe playfully turned around, held the tip of the gun to her lips and blew the smoke towards her cousin, then she gave it back to him.
"Wow, that was incredible!" Maevis exclaimed from the porch.
"All it takes is a wee bit of aim," said Caoimhe, and Archie glared at her as she made her way back up to the porch.
"Why dinnae ye check on Clara and leave me alone?" Archie asked her as he reloaded the pistol again.
"Och, she's fine. I want te watch ye fail te hit the bottles time and time again," she replied, and Archie looked up to see Geordie setting another bottle up in place of the one Caoimhe had shot.
"Ye have an advantage, if my mother taught ye how te throw knives," Archie said to her bitterly, raising the pistol and closing one eye to try an aim for the bottle. "She certainly didnae teach me how te throw them."
"When she comes back, ye should ask," Caoimhe teased him. "If ye live that long." Archie fired the pistol and missed again, and then he let out a loud groan.
"I swear, the damn things are moving!" Archie exclaimed irritably, and Caoimhe cackled.
"Or yer just a bad shot!" she exclaimed, and Archie tried his best to ignore her while he reloaded the pistol again.
"I think you're stressing him out, Caoimhe. He's not going to be able to focus if you keep distracting him," Maevis said to her cousin. "His life's on the line here, he needs to focus."
"It wouldnae be if he was never encouraged te elope wi' Clara," said Brèagha a bit snidely, but Maevis simply ignored her.
"Perhaps you should all go back inside," Lord John said to the women. "It is quite chilly outside, after all."
"Aye, I agree wi' that," said Archie, now taking a longer time to take aim and making sure he was going to at least come close to hitting the bottle. He knew, however, that he couldn't take that long in the actual duel. On a whim, the duellists would turn on their heels and fire right away, so there wouldn't be time for Archie to try and take aim. Then again, Mr. Ainsley wasn't exactly a small man. He certainly wasn't the size of that wee glass bottle and perhaps would be a lot easier to hit than-
"Snake in the grass!" shouted Geordie uncontrollably, startling both Lord John and Archie. Archie accidentally pulled the trigger as he jolted in fear and jumped, and to his surprise, the bottle shattered. "Sorry! I'm s-so sorry!" Geordie exclaimed.
"Good God, man!" Lord John exclaimed irritably as Archie looked back at the shattered bottle.
"Oh, look at that! Perhaps ye just need Geordie te shout aboot a snake and ye'll hit Mr. Ainsley!" Caoimhe teased him, and Archie narrowed his eyes slightly. Unfortunately, though, she was right. There was no way Archie could become a good enough shot in the next four days. He had been practicing nonstop and could barely hit the bottle, let alone get close to it. He let out a small sigh, reloading the pistol as Geordie went to set up another bottle.
"Perhaps I should take on Geordie as my second," Archie said to Lord John with a tone of defeat. "His wee outbursts may be what saves my life."
