6 October, 1766
Edinburgh, Scotland
I awoke to a note beside me on the pillow written in Jamie's hand:
Must go out. I didn't want to wake you, but know that I didn't want to leave you. You're as bonny as the day we met. See you soon.
Yours, J.
Finding myself perfectly alone, I decided to get up and explore my surroundings a little. I hadn't been given stays or other clothes yet, so I wrapped myself up in my tartan and made my way out of the room. There was a bit of a chill in the air, so I rubbed my hands together and kept them close to my body, following the sound of metal clanging against metal into the kitchen, which was attached to the sitting room. With her back to me was Beth MacCleary, who wasn't nearly as young as she used to be - but then again, neither was I. She was sixteen when we first met and she served us in Paris, then eighteen when she wed her husband and we met again in 1745. I would assume that she was somewhere around thirty-eight or thirty-nine at this point, and she'd put on a bit of weight since her youth. Her brown hair was hidden beneath a cap and she wore an apron tied around her waist, and as she made her way from one side of the kitchen to the other, I noticed there was a young girl sitting in the parlour repairing a pair of stockings.
"Oh, hello, Mistress Fraser!" said Beth when she saw me, catching me off guard. I wasn't used to being referred to as anything but 'Doctor Fowlis', and to be called Mrs. Fraser again was almost a little shocking. "Dorothea, take yer wee brother and go off te the market. I've made a list fer ye, here."
"What aboot the stockin's, Ma? I havenae finished!" young Dorothea, who must have been thirteen or fourteen, said.
"Nevermind it, I'll see te it later. Charlie!" called Beth, and a young lad came up from the stairs with a pair of shoes in hand.
"I've done the polishin', Ma!" said the young lad, who must have been about nine.
"Good lad. Go te the market wi' yer sister now. Go on, off ye get," said Beth, handing her children a bag of coins and a piece of parchment, and then the two children left. "Pardon them, Mistress. They help me wi' the chores. I'm no' as young as I used te be, and I've go' aches in me back."
"Oh, dinnae fash on my account," I told her, making my way to the settee and sitting down, resting my hand on my belly. "Would ye mind fetchin' me a hot towel fer the pain?"
"Of course, Mistress," said Beth, fetching the towel and bringing it to me. "It's a great joy te see ye again, truly. Mr. Fraser said ye'd gone te the colonies!"
"Somethin' like that," I replied. "I heard ye've been widowed. I'm sorry te hear, yer husband was a verra kind man."
"Oh, aye, he was, but once he'd died, I couldnae manage the business all on me own. I gave it te my auldest lad, Willie, when he was of age fer his wife and family, and my daughter, Senga, has gone off and married a farmer in Lothian," said Beth with a soft smile. "Willie was seventeen when he wed his bride, and Senga's eighteen now. My other two, Dorothea and Charlie, are fourteen and ten. My Duncan's been gone these last five years now. My Willie took care of me fer a time, but I didnae wish te impose on him when he wed. It was a blessin' Mr. Fraser came across me and offered me employment."
"I'm glad te hear," I told her. "I've had two bairns myself since we last met. Or rather, three, but one was born still… All daughters. I called them Brèagha and… and Maevis."
"Oh, what bonny names," said Beth cheerfully. "I could have sworn ye were red-hieded, though, Mistress?"
"Oh, aye, I am, it's just…" I began, not sure how to explain the change in my hair colour. "In the colonies… red hair isnae verra valued… I was mocked fer a time and… the man I… married, as I was a single mother wi' a bairn thinkin' I was widowed… managed te convince me te colour it." That was a foolish excuse, but Beth didn't seem to care; She nodded with an understanding expression.
"I see," she said.
"It'll… it'll come back, in time," I replied. "Er… So ye've seen Archie. A stark difference from when he was a wee lad, isnae it?"
"Oh, aye!" said Beth, letting out a laugh. "I was shocked te see the wee laddie sae big!"
"So was I," I replied honestly, and then I let out a sigh, stifling a yawn.
"Oh, would ye like me te assist ye back te bed, Mistress? Ye shouldnae be out of bed anyway," said Beth, jumping up to assist me, but I shook my head.
"Christ, no! I need a change of scenery. I've been in tha' bed far too long fer my likin'," I replied.
"Oh, all right. Shall I fetch ye a pot of tea? Some broth?" Beth asked me, now getting on my nerves with all this offering, so I nodded.
"Aye, tha' would be fine, thanks," I said, and off she went, leaving me sitting by myself in the sitting room. My peace was short-lived, however, when I heard the bell indicating the door to the shop downstairs opening, and then voices echoing in the stairwell.
"Milord will not be thrilled to see you, jeune garçon ," came a grown and mature French accented voice.
"Aye, he will so!" came a more youthful voice, likely that of a teenager. "Uncle Jamie is always glad te see me!"
"If it is as you say, you will still get in trouble with Madame Murray again," said the French voice, and then the door to the stairwell opened, revealing two young men - or rather, a young man and a teenager.
"Oh, hello!" said the younger lad, who had fair hair and was truly the spit of Ian Murray, my brother-in-law. "Are ye one of Uncle Jamie's whoores?"
" Soyez silencieux ! That is Milady!" said the older of the two, who had dark hair, a black cape draped over his shoulders and a black tricorn hat on his head, and as I looked at his face and listened to him speak, his identity dawned on me, and my eyes widened.
"Fergus?" I asked, and he gave me a smile.
"Aye, it is me, Milady," he said back to me, approaching me, and I made to stand, but he stopped me. "Oh, do not get up, Milady! Milord says you have been badly hurt!"
"Fer a wee hug, I'm fine. Come here, lamb!" I said to him, pulling him down to embrace the young man who had once - and I supposed still was - my adopted son. "Christ, look at ye… Ye've grown so big!"
"Aye, I have!" he said to me once he broke the embrace. "It has been such long time!"
"Aye, and I'm sorry fer it, my lamb… I didnae want te leave ye behind at Lallybroch, but wi' the English after us, it was fer the best," I told him, gently touching his face.
"Oh, yes, I understand that now," said Fergus, and as I moved my hands to take his, I was suddenly surprised by the fact that one of his hands was wooden. I glanced down and my eyes widened at the sight before meeting his eyes again.
"Christ, Fergus, what's happened te ye?" I asked him.
"Oh… it was tuniques rouges … Redcoats," he said to me. "It was my fault. I was taunting them and they cut off my hand."
"The damned bastards," I muttered as I looked over his hand. "Poor wee thing, it must have hurt so much. I should have been there te help. Perhaps I could have reattached yer hand."
"Nonsense, Milady. Milord explained why he had to send you away. It is better you were safe. I would have it no other way," Fergus replied to me as he knelt down beside me, and then he gestured to the young lad. "This is Ian, he is the nephew of Milord."
"Nephew? As in, Jenny and Ian's son?" I asked the fair-haired young lad, who turned pink when I turned my attention to him.
"Oh, aye," he said to me.
"I'm yer aunt, Catrìona," I said to him, and he raised an eyebrow before changing his expression due to a dirty look from Fergus.
"Oh, well it's wonderful te meet ye, Auntie!" Young Ian said to me. "Ye havenae seen Uncle Jamie, have ye? He's not in his shop."
"I told you, idiot , Milord does not wish for you to be involved," Fergus snapped at him, and Young Ian huffed at him. "You are un bébé !"
"I am no'!" Young Ian snapped at him. "I'll bet he's down at the docks. I'll go and have a look fer him. It was nice te meet ye, Auntie!"
"Oh, it's nice te meet ye as well," I said as Young Ian turned on his heel and ran down the stairs.
" Quel imbècile !" Fergus snapped as he jumped up. "Forgive me, Milady, but I must watch him!"
"Oh, by all means," I said as Fergus ran after Young Ian, and then I heard the bell again, followed by the slam of the door.
"Oh, that young laddie!" I heard Beth say as she came in with a tray of broth and bread with a pot of hot water, and she opened the pot to sprinkle in some white willow bark and rosemary. "Always gettin' inte trouble, he is. He's run here from his parents' home three times now lookin' te work wi' Mr. Fraser - or rather, Mr. Malcolm, as we're te call him when out of these walls."
"Mr. Malcolm?" I asked as she poured the tea into a cup for me and put in a sugar cube.
"Aye, Alexander Malcolm. It's on the sign out front, it is," she said. "It's te keep his business and his other business separate."
"What's his other business?" I asked as I accepted the cup of tea from her.
"Oh, I shouldnae say… but I'm certain he'll tell ye in due time," said Beth, then she went to put more wood in the fire and let out a huff. "The wood's gone out, I'll have te go and fetch more. Will ye be well on yer own fer a time, Mistress?"
"Oh, I'm sure I'll be fine," I replied, taking a sip of the hot tea. "Go on, I'll get myself back te bed if I must."
"Oh, all right, but do be careful," said Beth to me in a rather matronly way, grabbing her shawl off of the coat hook by the door and wrapping it around her shoulders. "I'll be back in an hour." I nodded to her, then silently finished my bread, broth and tea before ultimately deciding to go back to bed. That little journey from the bedroom to the parlour and all that conversation were exhausting to my still weak body, so the moment my head hit the pillow, I was out asleep.
I didn't know how much time had passed, but I awoke to the sound of glass breaking somewhere in the living area. Thinking it was Beth having come back from getting wood, I got up and wrapped my tartan around myself tightly, then made my way out of the bedroom stifling a sleepy yawn. "Beth? Is tha' you? I thought I heard glass breakin', are ye all right?" I called as I made my way into the parlour, freezing when I saw that the person responsible for the broken vase was not Beth at all. The raggedy looking man who's eyes fell hungrily upon me raised his pistol at me, then raised a finger to his lips.
"Make a peep and I'll no' jus' bed ye, I'll kill ye," he said to me quietly, indicating that there was someone somewhere on the premises that he didn't want to alert.
"Ye'd be doin' us both a favour if ye left now. If ye do, I might just spare yer life," I said stupidly. I didn't have a weapon on me, what the hell was I thinking threatening this man? In my current state, he could overpower me easily. He smirked at me maliciously.
"Ye mus' be Mr. Malcolm's whore," said the bastard, approaching me slowly.
"Nope, I'm his wife. Ever heard of the 'Red Witch'?" I asked him, wondering if that threat still worked fifteen years later, and he only scoffed.
"Dinnae ken what ye speak of. Dinnae care, either," he told me. "Well, Mrs. Malcolm , why dinnae ye be a guid little lassie and tell me where yer husband keeps his ledgers."
"What makes ye think I ken? I'm just a wee lassie, as ye say," I said back to him, backing up a little as he approached me.
"Well, perhaps if I fuck ye, it'll jar yer memory," said the man, and I scoffed.
"How auld are ye? Twenty? Twenty-five? Tha's no way te speak te yer elders," I told this man, who did look rather young. "Go on, get out of here."
"Or what? Ye make a peep and I'll shoot ye right here, little lassie," said the man, and he made a grab for me. I tried to dodge out of his way, but the wound in my side strained and caused immense pain. The man grabbed me and threw me against the ground, and I could feel the stitches in my side tear open and the warmth of the blood that seeped out. I covered the wound with one hand to slow it down and did my best to crawl away from the bastard, but he approached me with the most malicious expression on his face. "Yer quite the fighter, arenae ye, little lassie?"
"Ye should see what I can do wi' a bow and arrow," I said, really wishing I had one right now. "Suppose a broom will do. I'm an expert in shovin' them up arses." Bending over me, the man whacked me across the face with the butt of his pistol, pointing it down at me.
"Enough o' this," he growled at me, then with his free hand, began to fumble with his belt. He didn't get far, though, because suddenly, I heard a gunshot and let out a shrill scream, freezing in place as the man fell down dead beside me, blood oozing through his shirt on his chest. After a moment, I realised that I had been spattered in his blood, and I glanced up towards the stairwell, finding Archie standing there holding a smoking pistol, a panicked expression on his face.
"Archie!" I exclaimed, and he immediately dropped the pistol.
"Oh, Christ… Och, God, dear God…" he muttered, getting as far away from the pistol as he could.
"Archie, lamb, it's all right," I said to him, struggling to get up, and then he turned his attention to me and temporarily snapped out of his panic.
"Mama! Are ye all right? Are ye hurt? God, yer all covered in his blood!" he said to me, running to my side and kneeling down beside me.
"I'm all right, a leannan , dinnae fash aboot me," I told him, grimacing in pain as I held my hand over my blood soaked side, and Archie paled when he saw it.
"Oh, Christ, did he…" Archie asked me.
"No, no, this is one of my other wounds. The stitches popped," I told him, raising one hand to his face to brush a red curl out of his grey eyes.
"Oh, God, Mama… I just killed a man. Am I… am I goin' te Hell fer it? It's a sin te kill a man!" Archie exclaimed.
"Shh, darlin', ye did nothin' wrong," I said to him, and we were interrupted by the sound of footsteps rushing up the stairs and we both glanced up as Jamie appeared at the top of the stairs.
"Christ… What the hell happened? I heard a shot!" he exclaimed, and then he looked at the dead man on the floor, and then at us, paling when he saw me covered in blood. "Catrìona!"
"I'm fine, just fetch me a rag and a bowl of clean water, please," I said, pulling myself to stand with both Archie's and Jamie's assistance.
"Archie, go and clean yerself up. We'll deal with this in a bit. I'm goin' te see te yer mother," said Jamie, and Archie meekly nodded as Jamie led me down the hall and into the bedroom, closing the door behind me. "Chris, lass, are ye hurt? What happened?"
"I'm fine, Archie shot him before he could do anythin'," I said, frustrated with being fussed over. "This is just popped stitches. Hand me my bag? The one wi' the cross, I've go' a suture kit in there." Jamie did as he was told and handed me the bag, which I unzipped and dug out the suture kit.
"What in God's name is tha' contraption?" he asked me as I unzipped the bag.
"What, this? It's called a zipper," I told him. "Makes fer gettin' things open and closed easier." I pulled out the suture kit and then an antiseptic spray, shaking the can as I raised my shift to reveal the bleeding and open wound and spraying it onto the wound itself. It stung, so I grimaced, then waited for the numbness to kick in before I started suturing.
"What the hell is that ?" Jamie asked, referring to the spray can I'd laid on the bed.
"It's an antiseptic spray from my time," I explained. "It's basically foamin' alcohol, but it also has a numbin' agent in it. It numbs the skin, it's verra useful on the battlefield when I need te suture somethin'." He watched me quietly as I continued suturing the wound. "This thread is made of somethin' called nylon, it's also from my time. Stronger than catgut, should hold better." I paused awkwardly. "No' that I'm sayin' yer suturin' was bad. It wasnae, just… Ye ken what, nevermind."
"I… I see," Jamie replied, likely a bit taken aback by all this future technology. "So, er… What happened? Who was tha' man?"
"I dinnae ken. All he said was he was lookin' fer yer ledgers - or rather, those of a Mr. Malcolm," I told him.
"Ah… Aye, I should have said I'm callin' myself by a different name," Jamie replied. "Likely an exciseman… Damn it."
"What's an exciseman?" I asked him curiously as I finished the sutures.
"Let's get ye out of that bloody shift," he said, helping me to pull it off over my head. A bit shyly, I covered myself with my tartan while Jamie fetched another from the drawer. "I'll have te send Beth fer some claithes fer ye. Where is she, anyway?"
"I dinnae ken. She said she was goin' out fer wood," I told him. "So, exciseman?"
"Aye," Jamie replied, bringing the shift over to me and looking at me curiously for hiding beneath my tartan. "It's a man who goes aboot collectin' taxes, basically, though I wouldnae say this man is one of the legal ones."
"I see," I replied. "So… Yer not just a printer then, are ye?"
"Er… no," Jamie told me. "I… dabble in the sale of… illegal liquor." I couldn't help but raise my eyebrows.
"Illegal liquor?" I asked him.
"Aye, and… there's a man by the name of Sir Percival who turns a blind eye te my sale of the illegal liquor in exchange fer a large portion of the profits, but what I havenae told him yet was tha' I have expanded my business outside of Edinburgh. He likely employed tha' man te find where I'm keepin' my casks before sendin' them off te Dundee and Arbroath. They certainly arenae in my shop."
"Oh," I replied. "So I suppose this… Sir Percival… will likely come lookin' fer him when he doesnae return…"
"Aye, yer ability te deduce things hasnae changed," Jamie told me, and then he gave me a soft smile. "Dinnae fash, ye'll be in no danger."
"It's not me I'm worried aboot," I said. "Ye dinnae involve Fergus or Archie in this, do ye?"
"They're grown men, and they're a big help te me," Jamie told me, sensing my disapproval. "Neither of them are lads any longer, Catrìona."
"But yer their father, ye should be thinkin' this through, Jamie! If they're caught, they could get arrested," I said to him.
"Oh, no, more likely hanged," Jamie replied.
"Tha's even worse! How could ye put our son in danger? Fergus, fine, he's been doin' shady shit since he could walk. I trust him te be discreet, but Archie? Jamie, tha's our son!" I exclaimed.
"Aye, our son. I'll thank ye te not judge how I've raised him," Jamie told me somewhat sternly. "He's a good lad, and he mostly works in the print shop, if tha' makes ye feel better aboot it, but he does help wi' the liquor."
"I'd rather he didnae," I said stubbornly. "The poor lad was frightened out of his mind havin' killed someone. Ye mean te say he can handle smuggling?"
"Archie's a strong lad, and a brave man. He's no' killed anyone yet, and ye ken as well as I do tha' a man's first kill can often be rather shockin'," Jamie told me, and I scoffed.
"Oh, a man's , aye?" I asked him.
"Aye," Jamie replied. "He was protectin' his mother. The lad's always loved ye, Catrìona, and he'll do anythin' te protect ye, as a son ought te."
"Well, I dinnae need my son te kill fer me," I said. "I could have handled him fine."
"Could ye now?" Jamie asked, clearly challenging me, and I narrowed my eyes at him.
"Mind ye, I've just fought in a war. Fer six years, I was actively engaged in the war. What've you been doin' these last six years?" I demanded rather stubbornly, and he smiled at me. "What? What's so damn funny?"
"Ye say ye've changed, but tha' fiery spirit ye have tha' made me fall in love wi' ye is still there, burnin' as strong as ever," he told me, and my cheeks flushed a little as I tried to remain annoyed with him.
"I dinnae want Archie te be proud of killin'," I said after a moment.
"No one is proud of killin', Catrìona - at least, no honest man is. But dinnae be angry wi' Archie fer wantin' te protect his mother. He's spent fifteen years without ye, and he'll do anythin' te keep ye, same as me," Jamie replied. "I need te go and deal wi' tha' mess now. Are ye all right? Do ye need me te stay?"
"I…" I said, a little taken aback. "No, I… Just please leave Archie out of it. He… He needs time."
"Aye, I agree," Jamie told me, and then he approached me and bent down to kiss my forehead. "I'll be back as soon as I can."
"No rush," I replied a bit awkwardly, and then he was gone, leaving me on my own. He returned several hours later, cleaning off his hands as soon as he came into the bedroom, and then he turned to face me.
"All taken care of. Fergus had the bright idea of puttin' the bastard in a cask of Crème de Menthe. No Scotsman will be drinkin' tha'. Beth is fine, she said she got caught up in some protest fer the New Town they're proposin'… And Archie's doin' fine," he told me. "I took him te confession and he's sayin' some Hail Marys te repent."
"I see," I said, still not believing in the Catholic faith. "What aboot yer nephew? Ian? He came by earlier."
"Oh, aye, I found him. He's sleepin' in the back room of the print shop," Jamie told me. "And he's our nephew."
"Right. Our nephew," I repeated. A moment of awkward silence passed between us before Jamie began to undress, taking off everything but his shirt and then pausing at the bedside.
"Do ye… Do ye want me te sleep beside ye?" he asked me.
"It's yer house, ye can sleep where ye like," I told him.
" Our house," Jamie corrected me, and then he let out a soft sigh. "Ye didnae mean te come back, I understand tha'… but never have I seen ye so… coy, I suppose."
"Ye have te understand, it's a wee bit of a shock," I answered him. "It was one thing when I was twenty-two, but now I'm forty-five. I've seen more, borne children… lost them… lost a husband. Hurt people…"
"But ye've also helped people," Jamie told me. "Do ye… Do ye want te… go back?"
"Not really," I answered honestly. "I never really fit in in my own time. Everrathin' is… too noisy, too high speed. Everraone's movin' a mile a minute te achieve as much as they can in their still short lifespans. It… never really felt like home."
"I stand by what I said. Ye belong here, wi' me," Jamie told me, sitting down on the bed beside me and resting one hand on top of mine. "If ye need time, just say so. I cannae imagine the shock I would feel were I the one travellin' te yer time."
"I cannae help but wonder what ye'd think of a television or an automobile… or even air conditioning," I said, chuckling lightly, and he smiled.
"I dinnae ken what any of that is, but I imagine it would confuse me either way," he said to me, and I nodded subtly.
"Ye can stay, if ye like… Perhaps it… wouldnae hurt te have company… In case I start bleedin' again, or pop more stitches," I replied.
"As ye say," he replied, and then he climbed underneath the covers beside me as I scooted over to allow him some room. We lay with my back against his front, one of his hands running up and down my arm in a comforting manner. It was almost strange to be in Jamie's arms again, lying with him in his bed, but he was still as warm as he always had been, as if he had his own personal furnace burning inside of him. I felt him suddenly stroking my hair, and I wanted to pull away again, but after seemingly upsetting him last time, I just let him touch it. " Mo nighean donn ," he told me. "My brown-haired lass…"
"It'll no' be brown forever," I told him. "It'll go back te bein' red in… a few months, perhaps, as it grows. I never really liked it, personally. I only did it te hide better from Randall. I've always thought brown te be a rather dull colour."
"Not dull, no," Jamie replied, seemingly fascinated with my hair. "It's like… the water in a burn, the way it ruffles down the rocks. Dark in the wavy spots, wi' wee bits of auburn when the sun touches it." God, did he have to be such a romantic?
"Maybe not so, but I still want it te be red again," I told him. "As I've said, in a few months' time, maybe." A moment of silence passed between us, and for a moment, I thought he was going to fall asleep, until he broke that silence again.
"Ye mean te stay, then?" he asked me quietly, and I paused in thought for a moment. I could go back, maybe through Craigh Na Dun or Pobull Fhinn, and I could go and try to find Maevis, but all records were destroyed. Tom made sure that there would be no trail leading to her, and I knew then that it would likely lead to me never seeing her again. With war coming, and Richard Randall on the hunt for me, I had to take that chance. Now, she was lost to me forever, but she was safe from all harm. She could grow up and do whatever she wanted to do, and I would likely only get in the way of that. Who I was when I last saw Maevis was not who I became during the war, either. She'd be so ashamed of me…
"I… I've no reason te go back," I muttered quietly to Jamie in response. "Maevis is safe where she is, and hopefully loved… and I've no chance of findin' her. I dinnae even ken if the war's still goin' on or… how long it'll go on fer."
"So she's lost te us," Jamie said quietly.
"Aye… She is," I replied.
"We'll have a good life here," Jamie said suddenly. "A city's always in need of a healer, and my print shop does well. Perhaps we can send fer Brèagha, she might come and live wi' us if she kens yer here. I've not written te her yet, or yer brother. Perhaps I should."
"Just leave it a surprise fer them both. I'm sure it'll be funny te see their faces," I said, trying to deflect from the conversation about our future together. "How's Jenny and Ian?"
"Doin' fine. They've go' grandchildren now," Jamie told me. "We'll go te see them soon, perhaps when yer better." I felt him wrap his arm around my midsection and pull me closer to him, his fingertips brushing the underside of my breast. "Ye look as bonny as ye did when we were first wed," he whispered to me. "No' that I was ogglin' ye, but I did have te change ye out of yer claithes. Ye dinnae look like a woman of forty-five."
"I dinnae ken if I can say the same. I've not seen ye," I answered him.
"Tha' can be remedied easily," he told me, sitting up in bed and pulling his shirt off over his head. Blushing like a schoolgirl, I briefly glanced up at him, then pulled the covers up to my chest and looked away.
"Aye, ye… dinnae look like a man in his forties," I told him, and he chuckled softly, fingering the cloth of my shift gently.
"Will ye take this off?" he whispered to me.
"I… I'm a bit cold," I told him, which wasn't entirely a lie, but the thought of being naked in bed with him felt almost wrong. Not just because I felt that I didn't know him anymore, but because of my relationship with James MacCready. I hadn't loved him, of course, but obviously, I felt something for him or I wouldn't have bedded him. "And I… dinnae want te scratch ye with the stitches."
"Ye dinnae have te fash aboot me. I can fetch an extra blanket," Jamie told me, and then he climbed out of the bed and seemed to make his way to a drawer. I had to avert my eyes, but a very small part of me wanted to stare at his firm, round, toned arse sitting on top of those muscular, toned thighs and beneath his muscular, toned back and attached to a pair of muscular, toned arms that were also attached to that gorgeous toned chest and abdomen of his with a sprinkle of golden red hairs - much more than I could remember - and a perfect v-shape leading down to his- I could feel the heat of my own flushing cheeks when I realised that I was staring at his cock, and then I quickly looked away. I heard Jamie give a soft, low chuckle and felt him lay the new blanket, much thicker than the other, on top of the bed and then climb in beside me. He took me into his arms again and brought his lips closer to my ear to whisper: "Like what ye see then?"
"Ye… Ye truly do look great fer a man in his forties…" I muttered, not daring to move as he held me. I could feel, against my bum, the mass of his cock, growing hard with lust and need. I felt Jamie's lips brush the skin on my neck, and then behind my ear, then felt his hand slowly slide up my body from my thigh, slipping underneath my shift. "Jamie, please!" I exclaimed, surprising him. "Can we just not do this now please? I… I'm not ready fer this yet!"
"Not ready? Ye were more ready fer me on our weddin' night and we'd only kent each other fer a fortnight," said Jamie somewhat defensively.
"That was different! I was young and naive, hardly had the chance te see the world. The worst that had happened te me was I watched my family die. Now… Now we ken each other less than we did even on that night. I just… I need time, Jamie. I'm sorry. I'm no' used te feelin' like this anymore," I told him, and he let out a sigh and turned to sit up in bed, letting go of me.
"When did ye last… lie wi' someone?" he asked me quietly, and I let out a sigh as well, sitting up with him.
"It… took me almost two years te lie wi' Tom again… Maevis had already been born, and… I just felt the need fer him. But it wasnae him I was thinkin' of. I couldnae even open my eyes. We separated when Maevis was a couple of years auld and… he went off wi' another lass and I just… moved back te Barra. There was no one else, fer a while."
"Who… Who else was there?" Jamie asked me.
"Just one other man, but it wasnae out of love. It wasnae rape, either. It was after the bombin' of Glasgow. He'd lost his wife and children and by that point, Maevis had been away fer a few years. We were both lonely, and in a time of war, we just wanted comfort. So we sought it in each other, but… it wasnae me he was beddin', and I wasnae beddin' him, either," I told him honestly. "He saw his wife and… and I saw you."
"And then what happened? How many times?"
"Christ, Jamie," I said. "We… continued on tha' way fer aboot a year and then… he died. He went out te rescue civilians but the buildin' they were trapped in collapsed and… they all died. It was a soft bit of comfort te me te know I gave him somethin' before he died."
"I see," Jamie said softly. "So he… he had ye a lot, did he?"
"I dinnae ken. I didnae count," I told him. "After he died, I swore I wouldnae get involved wi' men anymore. Again, I didnae love him, but by that point I… hardly felt human anymore. I still dinnae."
"Hm," Jamie replied, not meeting my eyes. I could tell he was upset by the fact that I'd been with two other men since we separated, so I couldn't stop myself from asking the next question:
"What aboot you? Did you lie wi' anyone else?" It was a question that he knew was going to come up, based on the expression he gave, and it seemed that he wasn't thrilled to give me the answer.
"Besides Geneva - tha's Willie's mother… I've… lain wi' a few. Most of 'em whores in a nearby brothel. I keep my casks there, and before we had the print shop and this house, the lads and I lived there."
"Ye had my son livin' in a brothel?" I asked.
"He was grown, Catrìona," Jamie reminded me, and I scoffed.
"Ye dinnae ken how difficult it is te come te terms wi tha' when the last time I saw him, he was seven years auld," I snapped at him. "When did you see him next? Ye certainly saw him more than I did!"
"He was fourteen," Jamie told me.
"So ye see? Ye had the chance te watch him grow, I didnae," I spat back.
"I missed seven years of his life," Jamie told me a bit firmer.
"And I missed fifteen! " He fell silent, his lips pressed firmly together and his eyes somewhat narrowed, and then he let out a huff and bent to pick up his shirt from the floor, swinging his legs out of the bed.
"Perhaps this isnae such a good idea," he told me, standing up with his shirt on and grasping his breeks to pull them on.
"What, did ye expect me te no' be upset by the fact that I havenae seen my children in fifteen years?" I demanded from him.
"Ye havenae seen two of yer children in fifteen years, but I have one child I havenae even met !" he snapped back at me. "Ye've had the privilege of meetin' all three of them at least, but I will likely never meet my daughter!"
"Are ye sayin' tha's my fault?" I asked him.
"No, I didnae say that," he replied as he buttoned up his breeks. "I'll go and sleep elsewhere. Goodnight, Catrìona."
"Walkin' out of the conversation in the middle of it. Ye havenae changed much, have ye?" I demanded as he left the room, but he didn't answer me. Instead, he left the room and closed h the door rather firmly behind him. Letting out a frustrated scoff, I turned over onto my side and laid back down, suddenly missing the heat of him behind me. I could fear tears stinging my eyes, so I squeezed them shut to prevent any tears from escaping.
7 October, 1766
I awoke to find a pile of freshly laundered clothes on a chair beside the fireplace, and I was glad to be able to wear something other than a shift. I would have liked a bath, but perhaps that could wait. Instead, I just dressed, careful when tying the laces of my stays so I didn't strain the stitches. I was given a grey wool skirt, a blue jacket and stomacher and a kerchief to drape over my shoulders and tuck into the front of the jacket. The wool stockings were a bit itchy and needed some getting used to, and the boots were worn, but comfortable. Moving to the mirror, I tried to find a way to pin up my hair, but it wasn't having it, so I pinned up half of it and left the other half to drape down my shoulders. Once I was dressed and done up, I left the room and carefully made my way out into the sitting room, where Archie and Jamie were seated eating breakfast.
" Madainn mhath , Mama," Archie said to me when he saw me, and I gave him a smile as I sat down in the empty chair beside him. "Yer lookin' much better today."
"So are you, after what happened yesterday," I told him, gently touching his cheek. Jamie, who was looking over ledgers, glanced up at me over a pair of spectacles, then glanced back down at the book.
"Women yer age wear caps," he told me, and I lightly scoffed.
"I dinnae give a shit," I said, and Archie, who had been taking a sip of tea, had to stop himself from spitting it across the table.
"Do mind yer mother's mouth, lad. She's always had a bit of a sharp tongue," Jamie told him neutrally.
"I… I see," said Archie through coughs. "Bree's the same way." Jamie seemed mildly alarmed by this and his head shot up to look at Archie.
"She isnae," he said.
"Oh, aye, she is. Probably learned it from Uncle Cailean. Ye should hear the way Caoimhe talks! Bree's careful of who she speaks te, at least," Archie told him.
"Christ," Jamie muttered, and then he glanced back down at his books.
"I'd like te go te the apothecary today," I said after a moment of silence. "Seein' as I'll be around now, I'd like te stock up on supplies and start establishin' myself as a healer."
"Oh, a healer on Carfax Close would be a blessin'!" I heard Beth exclaim from the kitchen. "Ye were always so good at healin', Mistress."
"Are ye sure ye should be goin' out? Scarcely three days ago, ye awoke from nearly dyin'," Jamie said to me, looking up at me.
"I'm fine, and gettin' stronger everra day," I told him, picking up my teacup and taking a sip of my own tea.
"Archie will accompany ye. I'll work the shop today," Jamie replied, looking back down at his ledgers. "Yer mother will need ye te show her where the apothecary is, lad. It'll have been some time since she's been here." He certainly had a point there.
"Oh, but it cannae be too long, can it?" said Beth as she came out of the kitchen with a plate of biscuits. "Have ye no' been back here since the '45?"
"It's… certainly been a while," I said to her, and then I glanced briefly at Archie. "Feels like it's been aboot four hundred years."
"Oh, aye, I ken yer meanin'," said Beth, clearing away empty dishes. "Do watch out fer the protestors! There's a group of men who dinnae want the New Town te come te fruition. I say it would be guid fer Edinburgh, but ye ken how auld sops can be."
"Oh, aye, I do," I said, glancing at Jamie, and he glanced up briefly at me before looking back down at his ledger. Archie and I finished breakfast, then as Archie made his way down the stairs, I stayed back a moment, letting out a soft sigh. "I didnae mean te upset ye last night," I said to Jamie. "If I could explain how I felt, I would, but… I dinnae ken if the right words even exist."
"I wasnae upset aboot ye no' wantin' te lie wi' me," Jamie replied without looking at me.
"I ken. I didnae mean that," I replied, and he stopped writing. "Do ye think it makes me feel good kennin' ye've bedded whores in the time we've been apart? No, no' really… but I cannae blame ye fer it. Fer all ye kent, I'd moved on. I didnae, but ye had no way of kennin' that. We both had lives te live, Jamie… Whatever ye've done in the last fifteen years that didnae involve me… Well, I suppose it doesnae matter much now." He didn't answer me, but he did seem a bit unsettled about something, so I let out a soft sigh. "We can talk more later. I'll be back soon, and I'll lie back down. I promise." With that said, I turned and went downstairs, joining Archie and together, we left the print shop.
I still felt pain while walking, so I held onto Archie's arm in one hand while I held a basket in the other, relying on my now quite tall and quite grown son for support. It was still difficult to come to terms with the fact that he was so grown, but it was a reality that I just needed to accept. "So," I said to him, wanting to get to know my son. "What interests do ye have?"
"Huh?" Archie asked, evidently having zoned out. "Oh, er… I like sailin'. I can sing sometimes, too, but no' like Uncle Cailean."
"Can ye? I'd like te hear ye sing sometime," I told him, giving his wrist a soft squeeze. He smiled weakly, then his smile faded and his eyes seemed to disappear back to wherever they had been before. "What is it, lamb? Ye… Ye've gone verra quiet." He let out a soft sigh in response.
"Dinnae tell Da, but… I dinnae feel better after goin' te confession last night," he told me. "Whether or no' God will forgive me doesnae give me comfort. I killed a man, and what distresses me is I'd do it all over again if I had te." He then turned his silvery eyes towards mine. "I'd do anythin' te protect ye, Mama."
"I ken ye would, and yer a good lad fer it," I told him. "Speakin' from experience, it… never feels good te take a life. Me bein' a healer, I especially didnae like when I had te do it, but there were times when it was either them or me, or them or yer father, or… or them or you . I'll no' let anyone hurt my bairns, or my loved ones."
"Does it ever haunt ye?" Archie asked me.
"The people I've killed? Aye… I think of them, from time te time. I still remember the faces of two English deserters that I'd killed shortly after yer father and I were marrit. I cannae help but wonder who their mother was, if they even had one still, and wondered if she sat up at night hopin' te hear word aboot her son," I told him, looking away from him. "I sometimes wonder how long she did it fer before she gave up hope tha' her bonny wee bairn would come home te her."
"Da doesnae seem te think of it that way," Archie told me.
"Yer father's a warrior. His mentality is 'kill or be killed', and granted, in a time of war or danger, it isnae a bad mentality te have, but… I'm sure he sometimes thinks of those men he's killed. I cannae tell ye yer father's mind, as I cannae read it, but ken tha' even he has trouble wi' killin', too. He's better at hidin' it than we are," I replied, and Archie chuckled lightly.
"Da was… tellin' me yer father was a soldier. Did he ever have trouble?" he asked me.
"I wish I'd kent my father fer longer than I did… I was fifteen when he died, and before I was born, he'd spent fifteen years in prison," I answered him. "Sometimes, if I couldnae sleep, I'd wander downstairs te find him awake and starin' out the window, or on warmer nights, out on the moors themselves. But I dinnae think it was just the war that haunted him… Often, I'd find him starin' off at the castle. He left behind his whole family. His parents, his sister, cousins… his home as he kent it, all te go and create a better future fer descendants of his people."
"How does it feel? Leavin' yer home," Archie asked me, and I let out a soft sigh.
"I left my home fifteen years ago when I said goodbye te yer father at the stones. Frankly, I dinnae think I've come back te it since," I said, and then I stopped us when I saw a sign that said 'Appthecary'. "Oh, is this it?"
"Oh, aye, tha's it," Archie told me.
"Archie! Archie, lad!" I suddenly heard a voice call, and then I glanced up to see a man waving one arm - his other was missing - as he pushed through the crowd.
"Duncan! Just a moment," Archie said to the man, and then he turned to face me. "I need te have a word wi' this man. Are ye fine on yer own fer a bit?"
"Aye, I think so," I said, eyeing the man called Duncan suspiciously. "Who is tha'?"
" Na gabh dragh , Mama. I'll be right out here," he told me, bending down to kiss my forehead, and then he turned to face this one-armed man called Duncan.
"Lad, I've heard rumours of yer father's other, more seditious items among men down a' the Crossbones Pub," I heard Duncan say.
" Ist , not so loud!" Archie snapped at him, dragging the man away. I let out a huff; What else was Jamie getting my son into? Turning on my heel, I went inside of the shop to find a man seemingly distressed at the counter speaking to the shop owner.
"Do ye have anythin' that might calm nerves fer long term?" asked the customer. "An auld wise woman once said tha' mandrake root would do the trick."
"Nae, I dinnae keep tha' root, sir," said the shopkeeper. "It causes frightful symptoms, it does."
"Aye, when taken in high doses," I chimed in, and the shopkeeper glanced at me before glancing back at his customer.
"Have ye anythin' else in mind?" the shopkeeper asked the customer.
"What of hemlock? 'Tis said that it aids symptoms such as hers," said the customer.
"I can help, if ye'd like. I'm an experienced healer," I chimed in, drawing the attention of the customer and earning a scowl from the shopkeeper.
"I thank ye, but I cannae afford the likes of ye," said the customer.
"Then I'll come free of charge. If nerves are an issue, I imagine the afflicted is verra stressed. I'd like te alleviate tha' stress if I can," I said to him.
"Oh, tha' would be wonderful!" exclaimed the customer, and I looked to the shopkeeper.
"Dinnae worry, I'll get whatever herbs I need from ye," I told him, and then I looked back at the customer. "I am… Mrs. Malcolm," I said, remembering the name that Jamie used here in Edinburgh.
"The printer's wife?" asked the man, and I nodded. "I didnae ken the man had a wife. Archibald Campbell, ma'am, and I've a sister by the name of Margaret. She's a… verra nervous disposition."
"I'll think of some herbs and come by yer home. Where might I find it?" I asked him.
"Ye can call upon us at Henderson's in Carrubber's Close. I'd be verra grateful, Mistress Malcolm!" said Mr. Campbell, and then he turned to the shopkeeper. "I suppose I willnae be doin' business wi' ye. Good day te ye, Mr. Haugh." With that said, Archibald Campbell left the shop.
"Ye've cost me a customer, ma'am," said Mr. Haugh rather irritably to me.
"Then ye'll be glad te ken I've come te make a big purchase," I told him, pulling out a list. "Let's see… I'll need laudanum, lavender, ground yarrow root, tormentil, white willow bark if ye have it, rosemary…" I listed off a bunch of herbs, and the longer my list got - and the more filled my basket got - the happier the shopkeeper was. "And as fer herbs fer the nerves… Hmm…" I paused in thought, trying to think of some more common herbs that could also be used for nerves, or some more exotic ones. "Ye dinnae have any Withania somnifera , do ye?" Mr. Haugh raised his eyebrow curiously.
"I have," he replied. "Got it in on a shipment once, but never kent what it's uses were fer. Comes from India."
"Oh, it's verra good fer nerves and anxiety and such," I told him. "What aboot valerian?"
"Fer sleep? Aye, I've go' tha', too," said Mr. Haugh, fetching two bottles of the herbs.
"In smaller doses, ye can use it fer anxiety as well," I told him. "Now, this may be a stretch, but… do ye have any Cannabis ?"
"Ye've such a peculiar knowledge of herbs," said Mr. Haugh. "As a matter of fact, I have , but can ye use it fer nerves? I thought it was used fer ear pain."
"Have ye ever tried smokin' it? Does wonders fer the mind," I told him as he fetched the herb for me and placed it in my basket.
"No, I havenae. Suppose I'll have te try," he said. "That'll be ten shillin's, ma'am." That didn't seem like much, but in the eighteenth century, it truly was.
"Thought it might be," I said as I reached into my coin pouch, essentially clearing it out as I handed over the coins. "It'll all be worth it though, aye, Mr. Haugh?"
"Aye, but ye'll make it back if yer in the business of healin'. People are always gettin' sick," said Mr. Haugh, and I chuckled lightly.
"That they are," I said. "Best I go now, good day te ye." I bid him goodbye and then I left the shop, looking around for Archie but not finding him anywhere. I let out a sigh, then made my way to an empty barrel and sat down, not wanting to disappear on him and freak him out if he couldn't find me. Suddenly, a hand grasped my foot and I let out a shriek, using my other foot to stomp on the hand that had grabbed my foot. As I jumped up and stepped away, a small man of Asian descent suddenly crawled out of the alley on his knees, bowing to me with his hands pressed together.
"So sorry, so sorry," he said to me, and I raised an eyebrow at him curiously.
"Do ye regularly go aboot graspin' feet?" I demanded from him. "Try that again and I'll show ye where on ye I'd like te put my foot!"
"Mr. Willoughby!" I heard Fergus's French accent suddenly shout from inside of the alley, and he emerged, his eyes wide when he saw that it was me this Mr. Willoughby was bothering. " Imbécile ivre! That is Milady! Madame Malcolm!" Fergus snapped at the little man, who glanced up first at him, and then at me.
"Oh! So sorry, Honourable First Wife!" said Mr. Willoughby, genuinely apologetic.
"Mr. Willoughby work for Milord, Milady," Fergus explained to me.
"Oh, do ye?" I asked Mr. Willoughby. "Well, stand up, then. I'll no' address ye standin' over ye." Mr. Willoughby quickly stood up, bowing to me rather elegantly.
"It is great pleasure to meet you, Honourable First Wife," said Mr. Willoughby kindly.
"And ye as well," I said to him, and Fergus glanced over his shoulder.
"I must go for moment, Milady. Will you be fine?" Fergus asked me.
"Go on ahead, I'm jus' waitin' fer Archie," I told him, and then Fergus left Mr. Willoughby and I alone. "So… I take it yer name isnae truly 'Mr. Willoughby'?"
"No," Mr. Willoughby answered me, and he gestured for me to sit again, which I did. "Yi Tien Cho. It mean 'leans against heaven'."
"Tha's verra bonny. Why dinnae ye use it?" I asked him curiously.
"Mr. Malcolm say 'Yi Tien Cho' sound like coarse Gaelic word, so he call me Willoughby," said Mr. Willoughby - or rather, Yi Tien Cho.
"I see," I replied. "Well, I ken a thing or two aboot havin' my name mispronounced. My firs' name is 'Catrìona'. If ye'd like, I'll call ye whatever name ye choose."
"Willoughby be fine," he told me with a kindly smile, though something told me that he wasn't being entirely honest. "Mr. Malcolm save me when I come from China. I stow away on ship and then live on docks. Mr. Malcolm give me food and work. If not for him, I could have died. I am grateful to him. I use name he give me."
"If tha's what ye like," I said to him, and then we both glanced up at Archie as he returned.
"Mr. Willoughby, I thought ye'd be down at the docks," Archie said as he came upon us.
"There is trouble. Fergus sort out," Mr. Willoughby answered him.
"Ah, then ye should go and help him. I'll keep an eye on my mother, but I thank ye," Archie said to him, and then Mr. Willoughby looked at me.
"This fine man your son?" he asked me, and I nodded. "He is fine man. Loyal and good. He protect me from vagrants."
"Tha's the lad I raised," I said, getting a strange feeling knowing that I didn't raise Archie at all, save for the first seven years of his life.
"Aye, well, off ye go te help Fergus, then. If there's a problem, I trust ye te handle it better than him," Archie told him, and then Mr. Willoughby stood, bowed to us both, and left in the direction Fergus had gone.
"He seems verra kind," I said.
"Aye, but the lassies in the brothels willnae agree wi' ye. He's banned from four alone, save fer Madame Jeanne's, and tha's only because we do business wi' her," Archie told me. "Have ye got yer herbs? Perhaps we should go back home."
"Oh, not yet. I agreed te see a patient," I told him. "I think it was… Henderson's in Carrubber's Close. A Mr. Campbell."
"The Reverend Campbell?" Archie asked. "The one wi' the barmy sister?"
"Archie, tha's no' verra kind," I told him.
"But it's true!" he exclaimed. "What do ye need te see him fer?"
"His sister, actually. Now, I dinnae ken where this Henderson's is, so will ye take me there?" I asked my son, and let out a soft sigh.
"I suppose a wee detour willnae bother Da too much. He just wants ye te rest, ye ken," he told me.
"Oh believe me, I ken," I replied, standing up and attaching myself to his arm again.
"Is everrathin' all right between ye and Da?" Archie asked me, and I sighed softly - I should have expected this question.
"We'll be fine, lamb," I told him, giving him a soft smile. "It's just… It's been so long since we've been together tha' it's… provin' te be a wee bit difficult te get used te each other."
"Ah, I suppose tha's fair. When Da and I reunited, we got along fine, but had our moments. He skelped me fer kissin' one of the chambermaids," Archie told me, and I couldn't help but laugh.
"Did ye really?" I asked him.
"Oh, aye, I did, though the skelped arse kept my mind off of her," Archie replied, his cheeks turning pink at the memory. "It's naught compared te Da's relationship wi' Brèagha, though. She was… a bit less receptive te him when we went back te Barra."
"She was? Why didnae she go wi' ye te this estate in England?" I asked him.
"Oh, it happened right after…" Archie paused for a moment, then turned his head to look at me. "Aboot nine years ago… Auntie Saoirse died, Mama." I stopped walking, my free hand going to my chest as I stared up at his face. Saoirse died? I mean, I'd spent the last fifteen years thinking she and everyone else was dead because they were dead, but now, when everyone else I loved was alive and solid before me, it turned out that not everyone was as whole as they had been when I'd left. Saoirse was like a sister to me, and perhaps it was because she and I were more like-minded, or simply because we spent more time together, but we were closer even than Jenny and I were.
"What… What happened…" I said meekly, still in complete shock.
"She was expectin' a bairn and unfortunately, she… died in childbirth," Archie explained.
"Yer kiddin'," I said. "Christ, Saoirse…"
"She was verra happy te be expectin' a bairn again. She was a bonny wee lass - is . She survived. Her name's Riona - short fer 'Catrìona'," Archie told me, smiling again. "She's go' Auntie Saoirse's green eyes and yer red hair."
"Has she?" I asked, and Archie nodded.
"She'll be nine now, just turned a few weeks ago. I wrote on her birthday, the wee lass is verra fond of her cousins," he explained. "Now, as fer Bree… When Auntie Saoirse died, ye can imagine Uncle Cailean was a right mess. Bree didnae want te leave him. I didnae want te leave him, but he convinced me te go because Da needed me, so Bree agreed te stay. But when Da and I went back te Barra, she… wasnae verra happy te see him."
"I suppose tha' explains why she doesnae live here already," I said with a soft sigh.
"Ye'll see her soon, I promise. I personally havenae seen her in two years, nearly, so I'll be glad te see her, but we'll no' make tha' journey till yer well," Archie told me stubbornly, and I chuckled and shook my head.
"Remind me, who's the parent here?" I asked him playfully. He led me to the Campbell home, where we were admitted and led into what looked like a dining room, where I was immediately greeted by Mr. Campbell himself.
"Ah, Mistress Malcolm! I'm glad ye've come!" he said.
"Sorry fer the delay. This is my son, Archie," I said, introducing Archie to Mr. Campbell.
"Aye, young Mr. Malcolm, we've met before briefly," said Mr. Campbell, shaking Archie's hand.
"Aye, Reverend, I recall," said Archie as we followed Mr. Campbell to the very uneasy-looking woman who was seated at the table sitting silently. She was in her late thirties easily, maybe around Beth's age, and her once bonny brown hair had gone salt-and-pepper grey.
"Margaret! I've brought someone te see ye," said Mr. Campbell as he approached his sister and sat down beside her. "Maggie, will ye no' look alive? We have a guest!" Margaret didn't respond, nor did she even move, really. Was the woman even breathing? And then, she spoke.
"Can they come back later, Archie?" she asked quietly, not even blinking. "I'm verra tired…"
"It's no' a client, Maggie, it's a healer," said Mr. Campbell.
"Margaret Campbell? Hello, I'm Doc-" I quickly stopped and corrected myself. "I'm Mrs. Malcolm, and I've come te have a look at ye. Do ye mind if I touch ye?" She didn't answer me, so I very delicately took her face in between my two hands and took a look at her eyes - her pupils were incredibly dilated. "Can ye fetch me a candle?"
"Aye," said Mr. Campbell, handing me one. I passed it slowly in front of Margaret's eyes to see if they dilated, and they did a little bit, but not much.
"Have ye got any nausea or vomiting?" I asked her.
"No, none of that," said Mr. Campbell, answering for her.
"Thank ye, Mr. Campbell, but I'm askin' the patient," I told him. "Margaret? Can ye hear me?" I set down the candle and then brought my hands closer to her ears, snapping my fingers in both ears. She didn't seem to respond, but it seemed that she was looking right at me. I next reached for her wrist and felt for her pulse, counting about one hundred and twenty beats per minute. "Christ, ye've go' tachycardia," I said to her, reaching for my basket of herbs.
"Tacky- what ?" asked Mr. Campbell.
"An increased heart rate. Her heart's racin'," I told him as I pulled out the jar of dried cannabis leaves and a mortar and pestle. I crushed up the leaves and requested a pot of hot water, then steeped the leaves in the hot water for a tea. Next, I added some rosemary leaves and lavender for flavour, and then a tiny bit of the Withania somnifera powder and mixed it before handing it to her. "Here, have a bit of this. It'll help." Mr. Campbell took the teacup from me and slowly fed it to his sister, and at first, there was no reaction, and then she slowly laid her head down on the table.
"Christ… What did ye give her?" Mr. Campbell asked me. "I've given her laudanum but it doesnae help this much! I've given it te her daily!"
"A tea made with dried cannabis leaves, rosemary and lavender, and an Indian herb that helps wi' anxiety," I answered him as I felt Margaret's wrist again, detecting a slower heartbeat. "I can mix ye up a tea fer ye te make-"
"GLEEP! GLEEP!" Margaret suddenly shouted in a shrill, high-pitched tone, shooting up and startling both Archie and I, but seeming to have no effect on Mr. Campbell.
" Beannaichte Brìde !" I shouted in alarm.
"GLEEP! GLEEP!" Margaret repeated, and then she pointed at me. "D'ye hear them? D'ye hear the tree toads' lullaby? Oh… and the moon… Beware the moon! The moon be chokin' wi' blood, ye best be wary. Abandawe will devour ye! Abandawe! Abandawe… Abandawe…" Her voice slowly trailed off, and then she laid her head back down on the table. After waiting a moment, I felt for her pulse as her brother comforted her.
"Strong pulse… I'll make ye a tea before I leave, then I advise ye te get more. Ye dinnae need much of each. No more laudanum, unless she's in pain. It really shouldnae be used fer daily use, it's verra addictin' and addiction is tough te battle once yer hooked," I told him, standing back up.
"Do ye ken the meanin' of what she said?" Mr. Campbell asked as I grabbed an empty jar and began to crush up more cannabis.
"No, I've never heard of Abandawe," I replied.
"I'd be happy te translate her vision fer ye fer a modest fee," said Mr. Campbell, and I heard Archie scoff behind me.
"Fortune tellers, are ye?" he asked.
"Margaret's a seer, but isnae able te articulate what she sees. Ye see, without me te decipher the message, her visions are no more than ravin' gibberish," said Mr. Campbell.
"I'd say my mother offerin' her services te ye fer free is payment enough," Archie told him a bit harshly.
"Enough, Archie," I said to silence him. "Is she gettin' any sleep? I've seen verra dark circles beneath her eyes."
"Oh aye, and some nights, she cannae sleep at all," Mr. Campbell replied. "Nightmares plague her fiercely, puir thing."
"Mhm, and does she often sit still, unresponsive, fer long periods of time?" I asked him.
"She does, and when she's in such a state, I cannae rouse her," Mr. Campbell told me.
"I dinnae believe these are the symptoms of a seer, I'm afraid. Looks te me more like a… mental disorder," I told him, and Mr. Campbell let out a laugh.
"Ye tell tha' te all our clients who've had her visions come true!" he exclaimed. "Margaret's been soft in the head since she was a bairn."
"I see," I replied as I finished making the tea and handed it to him. "Here's this, and ye can make a mistetoe tea as well if cannabis and Withania somnifera are hard te come by, wi' a few drops of tansy oil. I'd also suggest a hops and valerian tea te help her sleep."
"Are those teas enough te keep her subdued? 'Tis why I give her the laudanum," said Mr. Campbell.
"Subdued?" Archie chimed in. "Why do ye want te subdue her?"
"As yer mother's said, lad, she's mad," Mr. Campbell answered him mildly irritably. "But when she does have her wits aboot her, she has a… great deal of curiosity, and ye ken what they say aboot curiosity and the cat." He gave me a knowing look, expecting me to respond with one. "She marches up te strangers, touches them and tells them things they dinnae want te hear. It scares them somethin' awful, puttin' me in a verra difficult position! 'Course, it's different when they come seekin' her services, because then I can charge them-"
"And take advantage of yer sister," Archie told him.
"Archie," I said to him a bit firmly. "Does Margaret enjoy this work?"
"Oh, aye, she enjoys interaction' wi' people, and she cannae give them a fright," said Mr. Campbell.
"Well, I'd like te see her tomorrow te see if I can get tha' blood pressure and heart rate under control," I said, and Mr. Campbell raised an eyebrow.
"Aye, tha's verra kind of ye, but I'll have te decline. Ye see, we're leavin' fer the West Indies tomorrow," said Mr. Campbell.
"The West Indies? Tha's a rather tryin' journey on a woman in her state, no?" I replied.
"That is why I require tonics. Sailors are a superstitious lot, they are," said Mr. Campbell, and I heard Archie scoff again.
"Oh, come on, Archie, ye ken it's true," I said to him, and then I looked back at Mr. Campbell. "We're from the isles. We've crossed paths wi' sailors many times, and they indeed are a verra superstitious lot." Even in my time , I thought to myself.
"So ye see, I cannae risk them pitchin' my sister overboard, no' when we have a wealthy client te administer te," said Mr. Campbell proudly, and I could feel Archie rolling his eyes behind me.
"In that case, ye need te get a big supply of this, and make sure she eats plenty of fruit in the Indies. And no more laudanum," I said to Mr. Campbell, who nodded in agreement.
"Thank ye verra much, Mrs. Malcolm! Ye've been a great help te us," said Mr. Campbell, taking my hand to give it a shake.
"Yer verra welcome. Sealbh math dhuit ," I said to him, and he nodded to me as Archie and I left the house.
"I never liked tha' man. Now I ken why," Archie said once we were clear of the house, and I lightly shook my head as we made our way back to the print shop - our home.
Later that evening, as I was dressed in a clean shift after taking a nice hot bath, I heard a knock at the door. "Come in," I said curiously, and the door opened to reveal Jamie, who had a bit of an awkward look on his face.
"Do ye… mind if we speak a moment?" he asked me meekly.
"Of course," I replied, adjusting my glasses back up on my nose as Jamie came into the room and closed the door, and then he let out a sigh.
"I'm sorry I pushed ye… I shouldnae have asked aboot yer… other partners… when I kent I wouldnae like the answer," he told me.
"It… it's all right," I said, a bit taken aback.
"As fer… us… When yer ready, I… I'd like ye te come te me. I dinnae want te push ye. I dinnae ken what yer life was like when we were apart, and I dinnae think I could imagine it, either, so I'll no' push ye," he said, and after a moment, I smiled gently.
"Thanks… Tha' means a lot, Jamie, really," I said to him. "Er… Would ye… like te stay here tonight?" It was his turn to smile at me.
"Aye, I would, if ye'll have me," he told me.
"The bed was a wee bit cold after ye left," I said a bit playfully, and he chuckled warmly, then moved to the other side to undress. This time, he kept his breeks and shirt on, and then he climbed into the bed beside me. He seemed hesitant to touch me, so in an effort to ease his discomfort, I initiated contact by scooting closer to him and laying my head on his shoulder, and he then wrapped an arm around my shoulders to embrace me. "I rather like the look of ye when yer wearin' spectacles," I said to him.
"Aye, do ye? I dinnae look like an auld man?" he asked me a bit shyly.
"Do I? I need these things te see all of the time, no' just when I'm readin'," I said to him, and he chuckled softly. "Actually, I'd say ye… look rather dashin'."
"Hmph," said Jamie happily, settling into bed with me in his arms. I saw his eyes glance down to my lips for a moment before returning to my eyes, so I got brave and leaned forward to press my lips to his. Once we'd broken the kiss, I laid my head on his chest, falling asleep to the sound of my Jamie's heartbeat.
9 October, 1766
A couple of days later, I was outside of the print shop, where I'd set up a table with the help of Archie, Fergus and Young Ian to see patients in need of my services. For a shilling, I would pull a sore tooth or suture up a wound, and for three, I'd set a broken bone. Each herb tincture and salve cost two shillings, and if I needed to do something more advanced, the price was negotiable. I had just sent off my last patient for the moment with a recently pulled tooth and as I sterilised my equipment, I heard what sounded like a wooden leg tapping on the cobblestone. It wouldn't have been my first amputee of the day asking for pain relief, so I turned around to address this new patient and nearly dropped my newly sterilised pliers.
"Ian!" I exclaimed as I took in the sight of the man before me. Ian Murray was almost exactly the same as he was when I had last seen him almost twenty years before, only his hair had gone snow white instead of the dirty blonde colour it used to be. Ian's eyes went wide when he saw and recognised me, though I could imagine I looked very different from the last time he saw me.
"Catrìona?" he asked, looking as if he'd seen a ghost when he recognised me. "Is it… Is it really you? Ye… ye look so different…"
"Aye, it is," I said with a smile.
"Christ… It is you, lass," he said, now chuckling and smiling. "We thought ye were… Wh-… Jenny and I, we grieved over ye fer years… Where on earth have ye been all this time?" I embraced my brother-in-law tightly, glad to receive one in return.
"Er… The colonies," I answered him. "Jamie sent me there te escape the redcoats."
"Christ," said Ian once he broke the embrace. "Ah, Jamie… Is he in, lass?"
"Jamie? Aye, I think so. Come inside?" I offered, and we went up the stairs to the print shop, the bell of the door ringing.
"I'll be wi' ye in a moment!" Jamie called from the massive room below, and I made my way to the window to look down on him.
"Cannae ye spare one? Ian's here," I said cheerfully, and I watched as Jamie froze.
"Ian?" he asked, turning to glance up at the window, where Ian was standing beside me. "Christ, man, what are ye doin' here?" Jamie took off his apron and tossed it onto the table, then made his way up the stairs to the main part of the shop.
"My son, have ye seen him?" Ian asked, and I was about to say something, but a harsh look from Jamie told me to shut my mouth; I gave him a curious expression in response.
"No, he isnae here," Jamie told Ian, which technically wasn't a lie - Young Ian was on the docks with Fergus and Archie helping with a shipment.
"How long has he been gone?" I asked Ian, not taking my eyes off of Jamie.
"Weeks, and the last time my son ran away, he came here te see Jamie," Ian answered me, and then he looked at Jamie with a rather sorrowful expression. "Are ye sure ye havenae seen him?"
"Aye, I'm sure," Jamie replied. "I've no' seen him since I sent him home wi' Archie months ago."
"Christ, Jamie…" Ian muttered. "Well, where else could he be? Jenny's woefully distressed. What if he's been taken by a press gang? Then we'd never see the lad again."
"I'm sure he's fine, Ian," I chimed in, offering him some comfort by taking his arm. "From… what Jamie's told me, he seems like a braw laddie."
"Aye, the press gangs wouldnae be able te thole the lad. They'd sooner throw him off before leavin' port," said Jamie. "He'll turn up."
"Promise me that ye'll bring him straight home if he turns up here," Ian said to Jamie.
"Aye, I will. Let's no' delay yer search any longer. Would ye like me te help ye look?" Jamie asked him, and Ian let out a soft sigh.
"No, I'd best go back home. Jenny will be worried aboot us both," Ian told him.
"All right, man. I'll see ye out then," Jamie told him, leading Ian towards the door. How could Jamie just not tell Ian, who was clearly worried sick about his son, where his son was? On their way out, I caught a soft whisper coming from the both of them through my ear that had been enhanced after Bloody Bush:
"She must have taken yer news well," I heard Ian whisper quietly to Jamie.
"I… havenae told her yet," Jamie replied, leading Ian out through the door, and at this, I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. What news hasn't Jamie told me yet? What else was he keeping from me? Granted, the man was allowed to have his secrets, but from the way Ian worded it, it sounded like it pertained to me. Personally, I felt I had the right to know anything that pertained to me. A few minutes later, the door opened again, followed by the ringing bell, and Jamie paused when he saw me. "Time couldnae erase the meanin' behind tha' look," he said to me, evidently bracing himself for an argument. "Disappointed, are ye?"
"Ye heard Ian. He and Jenny are worried sick aboot Young Ian. Since when do ye lie te yer family?" I asked him, and he let out a sigh.
"Well, I couldnae exactly say the lad's been helpin' me wi' smugglin', could I?" he asked me, as if joking, but I crossed my arms across my chest.
"At the verra least, ye could have said ye'd seen him. Jenny and Ian must be in agony. As a father, surely ye ken what that feels like," I said to him.
"Oh aye, I do, but I trust the lad. He's safe," Jamie told me, and I scoffed.
"Safe? Riskin' his neck fer ye without his parents even kennin'? How auld is he, anyway?" I demanded from him.
"The same age as yer brother when ye lost yer family and had te go on the run," Jamie told me, and my eyes widened.
"He's thirteen? " I demanded from him. "Jamie! A lad isnae a man at thirteen! What the hell are ye thinkin'?" I demanded from him.
"Perhaps not in yer time, but in mine, many a lad's a man even younger," Jamie replied.
"Blessed Bride," I said with exasperation.
"I've tried sendin' the lad home twice, but he keeps comin' back," Jamie explained to me. "Better he runs off te be wi' his uncle than te some godforsaken place surrounded by strangers, aye?" I narrowed my eyes at him - that sounded like a personal dig.
"Ye ken I had no choice but te send Maevis away," I spat at him. "Strangers or no', she's safe! In my time, it is much harder te hide from someone who wants te hurt ye! I wasnae lettin' my daughter get tied up in the mess that Richard Randall created." Jamie let out a frustrated huff.
"I understand that fine," he replied. "Trust me, Jenny and Ian dinnae ken what's best fer the lad. They coddle him, keep him confined te the farm when he should be free te do what he pleases."
"At thirteen?" I demanded again.
"I'm teachin' the lad the ways of the world so he doesnae do somethin' foolish as I did," Jamie snapped at me.
"This isnae aboot the 'ways of the world', this is aboot Young Ian runnin' from home! Of course Ian and Jenny want te ken where their son is, same as you or I do when we're separated from our bairns! And ye just lied!"
"Aye, and ye shouldnae judge me fer it. Have ye forgotten all aboot the deceptions we colluded in? We lied our way through Paris, did we no'? Did Ian ask ye where ye've been all this time? I imagine ye didnae tell him the truth."
"Oh, come on! A white lie te conceal a truth that Ian cannae possibly understand-"
"Ah, I didnae ken lies had shades now!"
"Yer not his father, Jamie! Young Ian is not Archie! Ye dinnae get te make any decisions fer him, ye dinnae get te 'show him the ways of the world', it isnae up te ye te criticise how Jenny and Ian raise their son!" I shouted at him.
"No, but I'm Maevis's father, aye? And I didnae get a say in how she was raised, did I?" Jamie demanded from me, and I scoffed.
"I didnae get te raise her either, ye damn bastard !" I shouted at him. "Do ye not think I didnae regret the decision te send her away? That I wish I never had? That I wished I could have gone wi' her? Do ye think I wanted te send her away? I didnae get a say in how she was raised either!" Jamie let out a harsh huff and turned, kicking the door firmly, and then he let out a heavy sigh.
"We've both failed our children in many ways… And I suppose I'm… makin' up fer it wi' Ian…" he said quietly. "Ye dinnae understand, Catrìona. Archie was nearly grown already when I saw him. It was Cailean who saw him through tha' transition from boy te man, not me… He already kent the way of the world and it wasnae me who showed it te him."
"Do ye think it pleases me te have missed out on important milestones fer my children? They are grown, both of them… and I missed everrathin'…" I glanced down at my feet, feeling tears start to sting my eyes as it dawned on me that I missed out on so much of my bairns' lives.
"Lass," I heard Jamie say, and the next thing I knew, he was holding me in his arms. I returned his embrace and buried my face in his shoulder, fighting off the tears. "It's hard on us both. The consequences of decisions we made have cost us time not only together, but wi' our bairns. But we're here now, together, able te be there fer our bairns now." I felt him kiss the top of my head. "We'll go te Barra soon… Ye need te hold yer bonny daughter in yer arms again." I nodded, but I didn't answer him. Instead, I stood there with my arms wrapped tightly around him, holding onto this small bit of comfort I was allowing myself. Sure, I was here now, but it didn't make up for all of the years I lost with my children. Knowing that Jamie experienced something similar - but was still here - didn't make me feel any better.
10 October, 1766
At some point in the night, I was woken up by the bed shaking, and I lifted my head and squinted through the dim candlelight to see where Jamie had gone and I reached out for him. In response, I heard the low rumble of his chuckle, then felt him take my hand and bend down beside me. "I have te go out," he told me. "I dinnae want te leave ye, but I must. I'll no' be gone long."
"Hurry back, this bed is cold without ye," I muttered sleepily, and he chuckled again, then stood back up and bent down to kiss me.
"Soon as I can," he whispered to me, then he kissed me one more time and left, leaving me to roll back over and fall into a deep slumber.
I was awoken sometime later by my inability to breathe and I sat up, the hot stench of burning smoke choking me in an instant. I rolled over and immediately grabbed my glasses, then glanced up to see smoke coming from under the door. "Shit," I muttered quietly to myself, and I got up to feel the door to see if it was hot. Turning back to quickly grab my tartan and my medical bag, two things I refused to leave behind, I opened the door and was bombarded with smoke, erupting into a coughing fit and collapsing down onto the floor.
"Auntie!" I heard a voice call suddenly - Young Ian.
"I-Ian," I called back through coughs, suddenly finding the young lad to be by my side.
"Are ye hurt, Auntie? I've got te get ye out of here!" Young Ian exclaimed.
"What… h-happened?" I asked him. "Low te the floor!" Together, we ducked down and started to crawl along the floor.
"There was a… m-man," Young Ian responded through coughs. "He… he was lookin'… fer Uncle Jamie's c-casks…"
"Tell me when we're safe," I said to him, and we conserved our breaths as we crawled to the stairwell. I stood up to open the door, feeling the heat of the flames before I saw them licking the stairs down below. "An-nother way!" I sputtered out, and we crawled our way to the back of the flat and back to the bedroom that Jamie and I shared. Ian stood up and forced open the window, climbing out onto the roof. Thinking quickly, I grabbed the basket of herbs and placed my medical bag and tartan inside of it, then was helped by Young Ian out onto the roof.
"This way, Auntie!" I heard Young Ian say, grasping my hand as he led me across the roof.
"Careful!" I called to him. "Watch yer step, laddie!" We made our way onto the next roof and started to wave to the crowd that had formed below, begging them to hand us up a ladder so we could climb down. We were on that roof for ten minutes before a ladder finally reached us, and that was when I saw Jamie, Archie and Fergus push their way through the crowd.
"Catrìona!" Jamie called. "Archie, see te yer mother!" As I climbed down the ladder, I watched as Jamie stupidly ran inside of the burning building.
"Jamie! What the hell are ye doin'?" I shouted at him, but there was no way he could hear me. Archie helped me down right as the fire brigade arrived, using very, very early forms of a fire engine to douse the flames.
"Mama! Are ye all right? Are ye hurt?" Archie demanded of me, pulling me into his arms and embracing me tightly.
"I-I'm fine, Archie, please. I need te breathe," I said to him, pushing him away from me as I struggled to catch my breath.
"What the hell happened, Ian?" Archie demanded next of Ian.
"There was a man, a blind man - well, he wasnae blind but in one eye - and he broke into the shop! He found Uncle Jamie's pamphlets!" Young Ian exclaimed to Archie, whose face changed to one of shock.
"Christ," Archie muttered quietly.
"What pamphlets?" I demanded, hearing the shattering of a glass window and looking up as Jamie made a leap from the window in the kitchen to the roof next door, clinging on for dear life until he pulled himself up. "Jamie!" I called, panic-stricken as he made his way down the roof to the ladder. "Jamie! Oh, thank God!" I threw my arms around him as soon as he was safe on the ground again, and I felt him wrap his arms around me as well. He quickly grasped my face next and kissed me firmly, then embraced me again.
"Are ye hurt, lass?" Jamie asked me, pulling back to look at me.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," I said to him. "What pamphlets are they talkin' aboot?"
"Pamphlets?" Jamie asked me.
"Aye, Uncle! There was a man wi' one blind eye who broke in and found yer pamphlets!" Ian exclaimed to him.
"Hush, lad! Do ye want all of Edinburgh te hear ye?" Jamie hissed at him, and then he lowered his voice. "How did he find them?"
"We started when he broke in. I didnae want him te go upstairs where Auntie was sleepin', so I tried te fight him off but then he threw me against the panels and they opened and-" Young Ian rattled off, but Jamie slowed him down.
"All right, all right, calm down, lad," Jamie said to him.
"But he works fer Sir Percival!" Young Ian exclaimed.
"Milord!" Fergus exclaimed, having joined us at some point. "If he gives the material to Sir Percival, he will be able to arrest you for more than smuggling!"
"Aye, sedition is far worse," Jamie said. "High treason is a capital crime. Sir Percival arrests me, he'll be awarded a king's ransom."
"Oh, God, Uncle Jamie, I'm so sorry! I tried te stop him!" Young Ian exclaimed, throwing his arms around Jamie and sobbing into his shoulder.
"It's all right, lad, it isnae yer fault," Jamie told him, briefly comforting the lad before pulling away. "Chin up now, aye? We've figured out worse, no?"
"Well, what'll we do?" I asked Jamie. "Yer lookin' at the charred remains of home and we cannae stay here."
"No, we cannae," Jamie said with a soft sigh.
"We could go te Barra," Archie chimed in, and Young Ian's face seemed to light up.
"Oh, aye! I've always wanted te go!" he exclaimed.
" You need te go home te yer Ma and Da, where yer safe," I said to Young Ian.
"Aye, I've put ye in danger enough, lad. We'll leave tonight," Jamie said in agreement. "Fergus, take Mr. Willoughby and sell the rest of the casks, then meet us at Lallybroch. I'll divide the profits up there. Archie, see if ye can head off this blind man before-"
"No, I'm no' leavin' Mama," Archie said rather defiantly.
"Ye'll do as I say, lad," Jamie warned him, but Archie stood his ground.
"No, and I meant it. I'm goin' wi' Mama," Archie spat back.
"Archie, lamb, I'm fine," I said to my son, but he shook his head.
"No, Mama. The last time I had te watch ye leave, I didnae see ye again fer fifteen years. I cannae endure that again," Archie replied, and I let out a sigh and looked at Jamie.
"I dinnae want my son involved in this any longer," I said to Jamie, who huffed.
"Fine, Fergus, find the blind man and head him off before he gets te Sir Percival, if ye can. Then sell the remainin' casks wi' Willoughby, Duncan and Hayes," Jamie said to Fergus.
" Oui , Milord," said Fergus. "I shall see you soon, Milady." Fergus bid us goodbye and then pushed his way back through the crowd disappearing from sight.
"As fer the four of us, we'll fetch a wagon, pick up the press I tossed out the back door, and leave fer Lallybroch straight away," Jamie told me.
"But Da, what aboot… ye ken," Archie muttered quietly to Jamie, and he let out another huff.
"I'll have te take my chances. I'll send word te Ned as well," Jamie muttered back to him, and then he glanced at me. "We'll find ye somethin' te wear, lass. Come here, ye must be cold." I couldn't help but glance up at him, wondering what could be so big and secretive that apparently, everyone knew about it but me. Well, I supposed I would find out shortly. For now, it was onto Lallybroch, a land I had once called my home.
