Featured Gaelic and Pronunciations:
- Tha seo miadhar (ha show mee-ah-gerhd) - This is awkward
- Bigealas (bihk-eh-lahs) - penis
- Cliospairneach (clees-pahr-nyehk) - penis
- Coileach (kohl-lohk) - cock (male bird)
14 February, 1744
Jared's House, Paris, France
The dress that Madame Tabanou designed for me, with my help, arrived in a wooden crate that morning. We had breakfast, chatted in the parlour over tea with the lads in our laps, and then I left to change into my new dress, with the help of Suzette. When it was on after two hours, I admired my reflection in the mirror.
The dress was a rich royal blue, meant to really draw attention to my red hair, with silver accents. The front of the dress dipped down deep in a 'V' shape, the rounded edges of my breasts peeking out from underneath the cloth of the bodice. There were no patterns on the dress; it was a solid field of royal blue. I had two intentions with this dress: one was to draw attention to myself in hopes of getting whoever else may help Charles with his cause to make introductions, and the other was to draw Jamie's attention to me. He still had not touched me since the day I'd had my pubic hairs waxed and I thought that if I dressed in a way that would make him want me, perhaps he would take me to bed.
As I descended the stairs, I saw Cailean and Jamie, both dressed in a fancy French rococo coat over their kilts deep in conversation. I heard footsteps from the hall and Murtagh, dressed as formal as a Scotsman could with his scraggly beard, appeared, and Cailean let out a snort. "Wow, I dinnae think I've ever seen ye look so civilised," he said to Murtagh.
"Shut yer gab, ye dolt," Murtagh told him.
"Ye ken, ye'll probably be the only one at Court with a beard," Jamie told his godfather.
"Ye expect me te shave fer a bunch of French fops?" Murtagh demanded.
"Well, if the intention is te draw attention to ourselves, we're doing a damn good job of it," Cailean said.
"Aye, tha' we are," said Jamie. "Ye could have at least washed yer knees, ye swine! Ye look like ye've been kneelin' in mud!"
"I did!" Murtagh exclaimed, and Cailean snorted, then glanced in my direction, and his eyes widened.
"Holy…" he muttered, drawing Jamie and Murtagh's attention to me. I smiled at the three of them, who were gaping at me like goldfish.
"I see we're all ready te go," I said to them.
"I- Yes, we… we are," said Cailean, his cheeks red, and he glanced away from me. Jamie then climbed the stairs towards me, his eyes wide and scanning me up and down. Hungrily?
"Are ye… mad , woman?" he asked me, taking me off guard. I raised my eyebrow at him as he looked at my dress. "I can see everra inch of ye, right down te yer third rib."
"No ye can't," I told him. "And besides, easy fer you te say when ye already have seen everra inch of me." His cheeks flushed a little pink as he continued to examine my appearance, and then he lowered his voice.
"Christ, I can see right down te yer navel," he told me, his gaze slightly scandalised. "Surely, ye dinnae mean te go out in public like this."
"I most certainly do," I told him rather incredulously. "I'll have ye ken, I helped design this dress. Ye said ye wanted us te stick out. Am I no'?"
"I didnae mean like tha' ," he told me, eyeing how my breasts were peeking out from the crevice of the dress. "Christ, mo nighean… " He lowered his voice even more and leaned into me. "First yer honeypot and now this…"
"Take the hint," I told him equally quietly, then strode past him as I continued down the stairs. "Best be on our way," I said in my normal tone. "We dinnae want te be late. We're te ride with Louise."
"Ye could at least cover up a bit," Jamie said after me, his footsteps following me down the stairs, and I reached into the pocket of my panniers and pulled out a medium-sized fan that matched my dress, holding it above my head for him to see.
"Already thought of it," I told him, not turning to look at him.
"Yer goin' te need a bigger fan," he said to me, and then the four of us were out the door.
Palace of Versailles, Paris, France
Louise was linked to my arm tightly like a link in a chain, giggling girlishly and waving her fan at various men and women. " Bonjour, mes amies! Ta robe est magnifique, Elise! " she was saying to a woman, who said something back to her that I couldn't fully hear. "That is the most hideous dress I have ever seen," she whispered to me once we'd passed, and then she giggled girlishly again. Louise was dressed in a pale turquoise dress with a pale pink floral rose pattern - it very much suited her girlish demeanor. "I have been in Court for such long time now! I am intimate with all the noble families, their genealogies, their allegiances… So if there is anyone you wish to meet…" Louise narrowed her eyes at me playfully, knowing full well that Jamie was close by and could see every look on her face.
"Er… I've heard Monsieur Duverney is an interesting gentleman. I wish te make his acquaintance," I told her, glancing at Jamie, who was watching us closely.
"Yes, a man of rather gross sensibilities," she said. "But fear not! If he is here, then I shall find him." She glanced around for a moment, then drew my attention. "Do you see those golden curtains there?" I looked across the room to see a series of golden curtains against the far wall that were taller than necessary. In fact, this whole palace was taller than bloody necessary. It was built to display wealth and stocked with as much gold as you could imagine - and it reeked of an overwhelming scent of urine and shit. No wonder the French rebelled.
"Aye, I do. What are they?" I asked, wondering why she was telling me about them.
"Alcoves," she told me. "When you meet Monsieur Duverney, it shall be a good place to meet… in private. " She raised her eyebrows at me, and my eyes widened when I took her meaning. She let out a rather loud laugh. "Oh, mon amie , I tease you! You British are so tight! You must loosen up like the French!"
"Well, when in Rome," I muttered, more to myself, and she scoffed.
"In Rome, they do not know how to celebrate," Louise told me. "I shall go find your Monsieur Duverney. Shall I direct him to the alcove?" Her eyebrows were raised again.
"Ah, no… Wherever I am, tell him te look fer me," I said.
"If you insist," she said to me, and then she was gone. I watched as she disappeared into the crowd, and then was slightly startled by a firm hand on my arm and a voice whispering firmly into my ear.
"If I find ye anywhere near those alcoves, Eileanach, I'll tan yer hide," I heard Jamie threaten me, and I couldn't help but scoff.
"Remember the last time ye said that to me?" I said to him. "Make true on that threat and ye'll prove ye've learned nothing."
"I didnae mean it that way," he said to me. "I'm sorry. But do stay away from those alcoves. Nothing good can come from them."
"Must I stay away even if yer sittin' inside one?" I asked him. His cheeks flushed a little, and then he let go of my arm, clearing his throat uncomfortably.
" Mon sauvage! C'est toi!" exclaimed a woman excitedly, and then she suddenly threw her arms around Jamie, shoving me aside. Jamie looked at me over her shoulder and must have noticed the shocked and incredulous look on my face. Don't go in the alcove but hug lasses who call him 'my savage', hm? I watched as she kissed his cheeks and pulled back from the embrace to look at him, and the somewhat surprised look on his face faded into a smile.
"Annalise!" he said excitedly, recognising the lass.
"Annalise?" I asked, making it obvious that I was demanding to know who this lass was.
"I was so thrilled when I heard you had come to Paris, mon sauvage! " this 'Annalise' said to him in French, and Jamie cleared his throat, catching the firm look on my face that demanded an explanation.
"Er… Catrìona, this is Annalise de Marillac," Jamie said in French. "Annalise, this is my wife, Catrìona Fraser, and her brother, Cailean Fowlis."
"Your wife! Merveilleux! I did hear you had come with a wife," said Annalise, looking more at Jamie than at me, and then she turned her attention to me. "Charmed, I'm sure," she said to me in English. "Let me congratulate you on having won such a strong, passionate man for a husband."
"Passionate?" I asked her, cocking an eyebrow.
"Yes, indeed," she said to me.
"Aye, I am quite fortunate te have won such a passionate man, aye?" I said, side-eyeing Jamie carefully. He clearly seemed uncomfortable with this interaction.
"Tell me, did he fight many duels to win your affection?" Annalise asked me, surprising me a little.
"Fight any duels ?" I asked her. "Is that common among Frenchmen?"
" Tha seo miadhar, " said Cailean, calling the situation awkward.
"As you know, duels are banned here in Paris, but the men still find places to do it," Annalise explained to me.
"Hm," I replied. "Actually, he won my heart without havin' te draw his sword. At least, not on another man. Instead, it was pointed at me when we met."
"How shocking!" said Annalise, her hand on her chest.
"That is… no' the full way of it," Jamie tried to butt in, but Annalise continued the conversation.
"When I knew him, he had quite the appetite for the blade," she said. "Did you not, mon sauvage? "
"Is he a savage because he's a highlander?" I asked, not liking the term at all and having been called so dozens of times by the English both in my own time and in this time.
"Catrìona," Jamie said to me, a little shocked at my attitude.
"Not at all!" said Annalise. "Only because of his duelling for my affection!"
"His duellin' fer yer affection," I repeated.
"It was one duel," said Jamie quickly, interrupting again. "One small, verra insignificant duel. As I recall, I merely scratched my opponent."
"Hmm," I said, not even bothering to look at him.
"Ye ken, the ironic thing, actually… it's quite funny, Annalise ended up marryin' the lucky lad," Jamie said again.
"How romantic," I said sarcastically.
"He's dead," she replied rather nonchalantly and somewhat firmly. "Smallpox."
"Sorry te hear," I replied back to her. She smiled as a polite woman ought to, then she placed her hand on Jamie's arm.
"Do you mind if I borrow your husband for a few minutes?" she said to me, clearly trying to poke the bear.
"I beg yer pardon?" I asked her, my eyebrows raised.
"Be at ease," she said. "I can only bring him to the door of the King's bedroom. The dressing of the King is a male-only affair. I shall bring your brother, too."
"Take Cailean, I shall meet you there in a moment," Jamie said to her, and Cailean took this as a chance to offer his arm to her.
"Come, ma belle dame ," he said to her, leading her away.
"What was that aboot?" Jamie asked me when we were alone.
"A lass comes up to ye throwin' her arms around ye, kissin' yer cheek, callin' ye 'her savage' and claimin' ye fought duels fer her affection. Ye expect me te like that?" I asked him rather calmly.
"Ye dinnae have te be rude aboot it," Jamie told me, clearly upset with me.
"I wasnae rude aboot it. Yer misinterpretin' my Scottish demeanor," I told him. "She didnae seem bothered by it."
"She kens how te act like a proper lady in public," Jamie replied, and at that, my jaw dropped and I stared at him incredulously, then steeled my expression.
"Watch what ye say to me," I told him quietly. "Better go off and watch the King have his shit. Ye dinnae want te seem rude to Annalise." Jamie narrowed his eyes a little at me.
"We arenae finished with this conversation," he told me.
"Ye need two te have a conversation with, and one of us says she's done," I said. He didn't respond to me verbally, but instead glared at me and then stalked off, following in the wake of Annalise and Cailean. Frustrated, I stalked off, finding myself stopped by a group of women that had been at Louise's home for tea who were filled with senseless gossip.
"Ah, Madame Fraser! We must have your opinion!" one of the ladies, Estelle d'Artois said to me. "We were discussing words that are used to describe the male member." My eyebrows raised a little, and the women giggled. "This here is Madame Isabella de Montcada from Spain. What is it you call the male member in Spain?"
" Verga ," said Isabella de Montcada, a small girl with a small face framed by dark hair, and the other ladies giggled.
"Tell us, Madame Fraser, what do English ladies call a male member?" Estelle d'Artois asked me.
"Well, firstly, I'm no' English, I'm Scottish. I dinnae ken what the English call it. Probably a prick or even a 'Peter'," I told them.
"Prick?" said another of the ladies.
"Aye, prick. But in Scotland, we'll use bigealas, cliospairneach, coileach, or, more simply, bod. I've also heard 'tadger' or 'boaby'," I said to them.
"Tadger?" said another of the ladies.
"Aye, like badger," I replied, and they all giggled foolishly and annoyingly again.
"Goodness, what words," said another of the ladies.
"But the English language simply is not as beautiful as French," said Estelle in French, and then she turned to me. "No offence intended, my dear."
"None taken. Half of those words werenae English, but Gaelic instead," I said.
"Ah, yes, the savage language," said another of the ladies, and I had to bite my lip to keep from lashing out. I'd pissed Jamie off once already tonight, I didn't need to do it again. Suddenly, Louise joined us with two chalices of wine in her hand, handing one to me.
"There you are, mon amie! I was looking for you! I hear your husband has gone to witness the dressing of the King," she said to me.
"Aye, he has," I said, sipping the wine that I very badly needed. I noticed that she was staring at something with intense interest and I looked in the direction that she was looking, spotting Mary Hawkins deep in conversation with a young man. The pair of them looked like blushing teenagers - they were blushing teenagers, basically. Well, the man, maybe not… It was hard to gage how old he was, actually, but there was something oddly… familiar … about him…
"That wicked little minx," said Louise. "She has found herself a lover even before the exchange of wedding vows. Perhaps I have misjudged her."
"It's hardly tha', I'm sure," I said. "They could be discussing somethin' they take interest in." I sipped from my wine again, then noticed that my hand was shaking enough to almost become noticeable. I cleared my throat. "If ye'll excuse me, ladies, I, er… need te get some air. Excuses-moi… " Finally excused, I rushed out of the ballroom as quickly as I could without drawing too much attention to myself. I was overwhelmed and stressed, the small argument with Jamie still haunting the back of my mind. What was going on with me? Was I having a bloody anxiety attack? That didn't happen to me, not at all. I'm too stubborn to have one, that's what I've always been told. Too stubborn to give up, too stubborn to appear weak, too stubborn to die… I took deep breaths in an attempt to catch my breath and held my hand to my chest as if forcing air into my lungs. Blessed Bride, where was Jamie? I needed him to hold me badly . If he were here, would he even do that? Clearly, he was upset with me. What if he was falling out of love with me because I was being difficult and unreasonable? No, he'd never do that… would he? He seemed to like the attention from Annalise, and she seemed to love the idea of taking both her and Cailean away from me. What if she didn't take them to the King's bedchamber? What if she's with them right now in one of those damn alcoves-
"Lady Broch Two-rock," I heard a voice behind me say, startling me into jumping as I wheeled around to see whoever it was that had disturbed my (well deserved) solitude. Standing before me was a stout man wearing a long grey curly wig and an elaborately ornate coat. He bowed to me, taking my shaking hand into his. "You are trembling. Fear not! I am here to answer your desires."
"Eh-excuse me?" I asked him, still trying to process what the hell was happening.
"I am told you are desirous of the company of Monsieur Joseph Duverney," said the man, lowering his lips to kiss my hand rather wetly. "Since I alone in all of France answer to that name, it is I you have been praying for."
"Er… It… It is indeed an honour, sir. My husband-" I said, but Duverney interrupted me as he kissed up my forearm.
"There is no need to speak of husbands or wives, ma belle souris, " said Duverney, and he dove down onto the ground to grasp my foot, pulling it out of its shoe. "Instead, let me worship… at your feet." He pulled my foot to his lips to kiss it, and I tried to pull it from his grip, my heart racing and the blood pounding in my ears.
"Sir, ye are clearly mistaken! Monsieur! " I exclaimed, pulling my foot free from his grasp.
"There is no need to play the coquette, mon chéri ," said Duverney, clearly not taking the hint. "Let us take the brief few moments we have and find ecstasy… in each other's embrace!" He flung himself at me and buried his lips into my neck to kiss it.
"Sir, stop that right this instant!" I exclaimed, trying to struggle out of his grip, but he must not have heard my words - or didn't care.
"Come to me, my little mouse. Let me hear you squeak!" said Duverney. I thought I had pushed him off of me, but it turned out it was Jamie pulling him off of me and tossing him over the edge of this bridge - as I realised it was when I finally glanced around me - and a splash quickly followed.
"Jamie!" I exclaimed, running to him and then looking over the side of the bridge down at Duverney. "That… that was the Minister of Finance…"
"Monsieur Duverney?" he asked me, one of his hands firmly and protectively on my lower back.
"Aye, it was," I said, looking up into his face. I then threw my arms around him and buried my face in his chest. I felt his arms wrap themselves tightly around me and his lips bury themselves in my hair.
"Are ye all right? Are ye hurt?" he asked me, and I shook my head, not removing my face from his chest. I felt him let out a sigh. "Paris," he said after a moment, and then he pulled back and placed his finger under my chin to meet my eyes. "I told ye that dress would bring us grief." It was light-hearted, and after a moment, he gave me a soft smile.
"Actually what ye said was 'ye could see everra inch of me, right down te my navel'," I told him.
"And it's still true. Cover up, will ye? Yer no' supposed te show the rest of the world what's mine and mine alone," he told me, and then he tilted my head to lower his lips onto mine for a quick, chaste kiss. "Now, I suppose we should go and explain ourselves to Monsieur Duverney."
"Please accept my most fervent apology for my beastly behaviour," said Duverney by the fire as he attempted to dry his now ratty-looking wig. Jamie and I had helped him out of the manmade river running through Versailles and explained everything, how it was a misunderstanding, how Jamie had thought he was attacking me and how I was nothing but faithful to my husband.
"Monsieur Duverney, my wife and I are happy te accept yer apology," Jamie told him.
" Merci, mes amies. Most sincerely. What can I say? I have grown too fond of the King's ever-flowing champagne," said Duverney, attempting to pat his ruined wig dry.
"I shall be glad te replace tha'," Jamie told him, but Duverney waved him off.
"Nonsense! It is an easy fix," he replied. " Sacrebleu, if my wife had caught me attempting to make love to another woman… My beloved possesses a fiery temper."
"I ken a thing or two aboot a wife possessin' a fiery temper," Jamie told me, glancing at me. In his eyes flashed a hint of amusement, likely at my jealousy earlier in the evening. "Madame Duverney need never ken."
"God's blessing on you both," said Duverney gratefully. "Perhaps there is some way I can be of service? To repay your kindness, of course."
"Yer friendship is service enough," I chimed in.
"Then you shall have it, Madame. Tell me, Monsieur Fraser, do you, by chance, enjoy a game of chess?" Duverney asked, directing his question to Jamie.
"I'm told he's a master," I said, resting one of my hands on Jamie's arm.
"Master? No' at all," said Jamie bashfully. "I have been kent te brood over a board or two from time to time, though." The sound of a formal horn suddenly drew our attention and we looked to the grand entrance, where a man in a powdered wig was standing alone by the door.
"Ladies and gentlemen… the King," he announced, and then he stepped aside as the door opened and in walked King Louis XV, graceful, charming, looking every bit the French rococo monarch that he was. Called Louis the Beloved and known for his modesty, he was a major patron for architecture and music. He would come to have several mistresses, the most famous being Jeanne Antoinette Poisson, Madame de Pompadour, but he was said to be a beloved father to his many children. Behind the king was his entourage, and following directly behind him was a woman dressed in the largest dress in the Court with gold-trimmed frills, lots of lace, and-
"Good God," I heard the voice of Cailean mutter behind me, and I turned to realise that he had joined Jamie and I. "Her nipples," he said to us in Gaelic. "Are they…"
"Pierced?" I asked. Sure enough, they were. Dangling from her breasts were golden chains adorned with feathers attached to a small golden bar that travelled right through her nipples and circled them, drawing attention to them. Her breasts were fully exposed and it was evident that this dress was designed to draw attention to her. "And ye told me that I need te cover up," I said quietly to Jamie.
"Aye, yer one step away from tha'," Jamie told me playfully.
"That must be the Duchesse de Châteauroux," Cailean muttered to Jamie and me. "Annalise was telling me aboot her, she's the King's mistress."
"Where's his wife?" I couldn't help but ask.
"Annalise didnae say, I would guess she would live here, though," Cailean replied.
"She probably isnae here, if the King's mistress is here," Jamie chimed in, still speaking in Gaelic. As the entourage toured the room, groups of people bowed and curtsied to King Louis, who accepted them with civility. The entourage then approached us, and the King stopped to greet the Minister of France in French.
" Seigneur Broch Tuarach ," said the King to Jamie, who bowed to him.
"Your Royal Highness," said Jamie in French.
"'Parritch', was it?" the King asked him.
"Yes, Your Majesty. I can assure you it will give you no trouble," said Jamie politely, and the king nodded, then he turned his attention to me. " Ma belle femme, " he said to me as I curtsied before him. "You must be Lady Broch Tuarach."
"I am, Your Majesty," I replied to him.
"A most beautiful and charming woman indeed. Scotland, you are from?" he asked me in English.
"Yes, Your Majesty. I am from the isles of Scotland," I answered.
"Lady Broch Tuarach is the sister of Monsieur Cailean Fowlis, Your Majesty," said one member of the king's entourage.
"A Fowlis of Barra. I have heard much of your family," said the King. "You are like Venus herself with your beauty."
"I thank ye, Your Majesty," I replied politely.
" Venez tous, " said the King to his entourage, and the group then floated gracefully past us, our small group watching as they left.
" Tha's the King of France?" I heard Murtagh say behind us, startling all three of us.
"Christ, man! Where the hell did ye even come from?" Jamie exclaimed with surprise.
"Aye, what depth of hell did ye ascend from this time?" Cailean asked him, earning him a glare from Murtagh.
"Shut yer mouth, ye dolt," he said to Cailean. He turned his attention back to the direction the king went, but something else caught his eye instead. "Judas."
"What?" Cailean asked him, and I turned my gaze towards whatever it was that he had seen, and when I caught sight of it as well, I could feel my blood boiling. Murtagh shoved past us and through the crowd, the three of us following him as Murtagh reached for his dirk to draw with the intention of slicing the throat of the Duke of Sandringham, who appeared quite disturbed at Murtagh's appearance.
"Ye'll pay fer yer treachery!" Murtagh growled at him, and Jamie quickly intervened by getting between the two men and grasping Murtagh's wrist.
"Are ye mad? Never draw yer weapon in the presence of the king. It is death!" Jamie hissed at him. First, Murtagh glared at Jamie, then turned his venomous gaze to Sandringham before resheathing his blade.
"Hmph," said Murtagh. " Falbh a' gabhnail do ghnùis airson cac. " Away and take your face for a shite.
"If that is an apology, and I do hope that it is, then I accept it with all good grace," said Sandringham, and then he turned his attention to Jamie. "Jamie, dear boy, upon my word, I am delighted to see you looking so healthy. And ah, Mrs. Fraser." He took notice of me beside Jamie. "What a joyful reunion."
"Wish I could say the same," I said venomously.
"Oh, you cut me to the quick! But I suppose I deserve it," said the Duke. "Let me assure you, I had every intention of delivering that petition of complaint to the Court of Sessions, as I had planned to do, but it was that damned Randall! The brute insisted that I give it to him instead. I had no choice whatsoever."
"I'll bet ye didnae. I've heard Randall can be verra persuasive to ye," I told him coldly.
"He claimed he would carry it on his journey but I did not expect him to read it," said the Duke, and then he turned to Jamie. "Will you ever forgive me?"
"What's done is done," Jamie said amicably, and I whipped my head in his direction.
"What's done is done?" I repeated. "This man cost us our home! Our sons' home!"
"I did hear of your fortunate blessing. May I offer my congratulations?" the Duke asked us.
"I thank ye kindly," said Jamie, raising one hand to my lower back and firmly pressing his palm against it.
"Now, what are you both doing here in France?" the Duke asked Jamie.
"Cannae stay in Scotland," I said rather plainly, and Jamie quickly jumped in to shut me up.
"My cousin, Jared, has employed me," he said to Sandringham.
"The wine merchant?" Sandringham asked, and Jamie confirmed. "What a serendipitous surprise! Tomorrow, I return to England, but I shall return shortly and when I do, I should be very interested to sample some of that rare Belle Rouge I understand he keeps in stock. I must have a case."
"How much would ye pay fer it?" Cailean asked, drawing the Duke's attention.
"I beg your pardon, but I do not believe we have had the pleasure of meeting," said Sandringham, glancing between the two of us - evidently, he could tell we were related.
"Cailean Fowlis, your grace. I am Mrs. Fraser's brother," he said, and Sandringham raised his eyes.
"Brother," he said. "Yes, I see the resemblance. So, you truly are a Fowlis of Barra, then."
"I didnae lie to ye," I told him. He raised his eyebrows at me, and then turned his attention back to Cailean and Jamie. "I would be willing to pay twenty percent over asking price for a case of Belle Rouge."
"Sold," said Cailean happily.
"On credit, no doubt," Murtagh chimed in bitterly.
"Jamie, why don't ye take Murtagh te entertain our new friend, Monsieur Duverney?" I asked my husband, my eyes locked on those of Sandringham's, a firm look on my face.
"Is that such a good idea?" Jamie asked me quietly, raising an eyebrow.
"Go ahead, I'll meet ye there in a bit," Cailean told him in English, and then in Gaelic, "I'll stay with her and make sure she doesnae chop his bollocks off." Jamie nodded, then sent me one final look before going off with Murtagh in the direction we had left Duverney in.
"Monsieur Duverney?" Sandringham asked once Jamie and Murtagh were gone. "The Minister of Finance. I see you are already cultivating important people in high places. How very in keeping with your character."
"As giving Jamie's petition of complaint te Randall was with yers," I told him venomously.
"Poor Jamie, he must be missing Scotland terribly . I suppose it is no longer a safe haven for either of you," said the Duke, and Cailean scoffed.
"No thanks te you ," Cailean told him. Sandringham narrowed his eyes at us both.
"How very alike you both are," he said.
"That tends te be a common trait between siblings," Cailean replied.
"Yes," said the Duke.
"So," Cailean told him, "here we are - on the same side, no less - all supporters of the Jacobite cause."
"But of course, yer status as an English aristocrat certainly makes that a precarious belief te carry," I chimed in.
"Time cannot dull the sharpness of your tongue, Madame Fraser," said Sandringham firmly. We were interrupted by the sound of someone coughing - a man - and the coughing neared, emerging from the crowd in the form of a young man who looked like-
"Randall?" Cailean muttered, voicing my thoughts aloud. He recognised Randall's face?
"Your Grace, er… the fireworks are due te begin in a moment," said the young man who resembled Randall, but was just different enough for the both of us to obviously see that it wasn't him. Randall was dead, after all, so this man couldn't be him.
"Thank you, Alex. I shall be there shortly," said Sandringham, dismissing the young man. Alex Randall. Hadn't Randall mentioned him before to me? Alex Randall broke out into yet another coughing fit, and Sandringham recoiled from him.
"If you must cough on someone, do it on a servant! I'll not have the Plague or the Pox on me!" Sandringham exclaimed, and then he turned to meet the rather perplexed faces of the Fowlis siblings. "I do beg your pardon, that was a bit harsh."
"Just a bit," I said, and then I looked at Alex Randall. He seemed pink in the face, if not a little pale, and he maybe looked a little tired, but otherwise wasn't horribly unhealthy. "Are ye all right, sir?" I asked him.
"Oh, your pardon, Madam. Yes, I am all right. It's chronic, I'm afraid - asthma," said Alex Randall to me politely. Wow, so different from his asshole of a brother.
"A bit of althea officinalis may help soothe yer throat, and if it's asthma that plagues ye, then smokin' some dried datura stramonium will help . Ye may ken it as thorn apple," I said to him.
"Yes, I have heard of it. I thank you kindly for the suggestions, madam," said Alex Randall, bowing to me.
"Just a question. Did I see ye speakin' to Mary Hawkins earlier?" I asked him, and suddenly, his cheeks burned a much brighter shade of pink.
"Oh… yes," he answered. "A most enchanting girl. You know her?"
"Aye, I do, and that she is indeed," I replied. Sandringham cleared his throat, directing our attention back to him.
"Forgive me, where are my manners? Mrs. Catherine Fraser and Mr. Cailean Fowlis, may I introduce my new secretary, Alexander Randall," he said.
"I thought ye might be a Randall," I said. "I can see it in yer face."
"Yes, your ears certainly do not deceive you. The name is no coincidence. Alex is the younger brother of Captain Jonathan Randall, Esquire. Mrs. Fraser and your brother are well acquainted, Alex," Sandringham explained as if the news weren't obvious already.
"Well, I will have to tell Jonathan that I have met you," said Alex politely. I raised my eyebrow at that and Cailean and I exchanged a glance; Had we heard him properly? He will have to tell Randall that he has met us? Can you even tell something to a dead man? Unless…
"What do ye mean, 'tell'?" Cailean asked, his own thoughts evidently echoing mine, something that the pair of us did quite a bit.
"I dinnae understand, I… We've been led to believe that Captain Randall was, er… dead, " I said.
"I certainly hope not. I received a letter from Scotland this morning that he had posted only a fortnight ago," Alex told us amicably.
"Oh," I replied, feeling a little lightheaded. The chaos that had invaded my mind before meeting Duverney was fighting to return, and I must have paled, for both Cailean and Alex were quick to check on me.
"Catrìona," Cailean said to me, his hand around my arm supporting me.
"Can I be of assistance?" Alex asked me.
"I'm all right, it's just… I suppose the rumour of his demise that my brother and I had heard was false," I told them. What the hell would that mean for us now? With Randall alive, Jamie would want to seek justice, maybe even go back to Scotland and kill the man himself. He couldn't know. Jamie knowing that Randall lived would put him, and our family, in danger.
"Jonathan did suffer wounds in the line of duty. They were not insignificant, but luckily, my brother's constitution is much stronger than my own," said Alex. "I'm sorry, did your brother refer to you by a different name?"
"It's the same name, but in a different language. My name is Catrìona. 'Catherine' is a name that English gave me because they couldn't pronounce my name, even though it isnae hard te pronounce," I said, looking at Sandringham. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the loud booming of the fireworks outside of Versailles.
"Oh! How lovely, but must they be so thunderous?" Sandringham exclaimed, seemingly glad to have an excuse to end the conversation. "Alex, go and fetch my carriage…" Sandringham's voice trailed off as he and Alex disappeared into the crowd that was rushing to the windows to see the fireworks. Cailean and I stayed behind, neither of us finding interest in the spectacle outside.
"He cannae ken," Cailean said suddenly, referring to Jamie.
"No," I replied. No, he cannae." I glanced in the direction of Jamie, who could be seen laughing along with Duverney about something, and Murtagh looked quite uncomfortable beside him. "How do ye ken what Randall looks like?" I asked my brother suddenly. "Ye didnae see him, did ye?"
"I saw him in passin' at Wentworth, but I also have seen him before. He kens me as Colin Fowler," Cailean told me. "I've clashed with him a few times."
"So he has a vendetta against ye, too?" I asked, and he nodded. "Damn all Randalls," I said quietly, watching as Jamie laughed beautifully. That smiling face wouldn't last long as soon as he found out that Jack Randall lived.
15 February, 1744
Jared's House, Paris, France
It was well after midnight when we returned home. Dawn would break in a couple of hours, and it took longer than I would have hoped to get out of that damn dress. I would have gladly collapsed onto the bed and slept in it, I was so tired. Once I was free of it and in my shift, I sat before the mirror brushing out my red curls when the door opened and Jamie entered, carrying a fidgety Archie in his arms.
"This wee laddie was fashin', and I didnae want him te wake his brother," Jamie told me, looking down at his fussy son. "Shhh, ist, a leannan … Dinnae fash, a bhalaich. "
"Ye look so perfect, carryin' a bairn," I said, admiring his reflection in the mirror. "It's like ye were meant te have one in yer arms."
"I always wanted te be a father. And now I am, and I find I dinnae want te put him down," Jamie replied. A few moments of silence passed between Jamie and myself when suddenly, he cleared his throat awkwardly. "We need te discuss what happened at Versailles with Annalise." At this, I let out a huff.
"Can we discuss it tomorrow? The bags beneath me eyes are so heavy, they'll line my eyes up with the bottom of my nose," I told him.
"It'll just be a moment. Catrìona, ye were rude te her."
"And yet, ye had no problem with the looks she was giving me," I said to him.
"She was polite. Ye were clearly jealous."
"Fer obvious reasons!" I stood up and turned to face him. "She threw herself all over ye and called ye a savage as a term of endearment! She kissed yer cheeks, she was just aboot crawlin' all over ye, and all ye care aboot is how I reacted to tha'? No, ye liked her attention, didnae ye? Ye like it from her, but ye dinnae like it from me."
"Are ye mad, woman?" he demanded from me, then he set Archie down on the bed. "She wasnae 'crawlin' all over me, and that name comes from the one time - one time - I duelled a man fer her affections!"
"And then she implied tha' our relationship was less than whatever she could have had with ye had she chosen ye because ye didnae duel fer me heart!"
"Catrìona, yer bein' ridiculous!"
" I'm bein' ridiculous?" Perhaps I was being a little ridiculous. I froze for a moment, then let out a sigh and sat back down on the stool. "I'm sorry… I didnae mean te be rude, it's just… Ye dinnae seem te want me anymore, and when she came up to ye, and ye looked so happy te see her…"
"It doesnae mean I dinnae love ye, Catrìona," Jamie told me. He crossed the room to me and knelt down in front of me, grasping my hands in his. "I ken I've been a bit…" He paused. "…and I'm sorry fer that. I do want ye, I swear that I do. Catrìona… After that conversation, I spoke with Cailean, and he said ye've been… different… since the lads were born."
"Different? How?" He shrugged a little.
"He said… ye seem a bit more reckless, as if ye dinnae care what happens to ye, and that yer a lot more reserved than ye used te be. And I've noticed that, too."
"Well, it's nothin'. Cailean's wrong aboot me, and so are you." I pulled my hands from his and stood, moving to the bed and pulling back the covers.
"Ye have been different, though. Mo ghràidh … ye'd tell me if somethin' was wrong, wouldnae ye?" I paused in my motions, then let out a tired sigh. How could I tell him about what was bothering me when he couldn't even tell me what was bothering him? I knew it was Randall, for quite obvious reasons, but why that affected his attitude towards me, I couldn't say, and he wouldn't, either. It was obvious that there were tensions between us, and whatever he had going on, I couldn't add what was bothering me on top of that. Now just wasn't the time; we both needed to focus on putting an end to the uprising before it even began.
"I'm fine, Jamie," I told him. "I'm tired. Can we go te bed, please?"
"All right," said Jamie, and he then picked up Archie again and handed him off to a servant who had been hovering in the hall in case we needed help to return him to the nursery, then he climbed into the bed beside me. My back was to him, and I could feel him move toward me, hesitate, and then turn so that his back was facing mine. No, I wasn't fine, and neither was everything around me. But how could I say that to him?