4 March, 1744
Maison Elise, Paris, France
JAMIE POV
Jamie had gone to Maison Elise on his own after Catrìona banished him from the nursery. He wasn't seeking comfort, even though she was convinced he was and he was tempted to spite her, but simply didn't want to be alone. Physically. He knew he was more than alone in this crowded room. There were girls crawling all over men, who had snuck away from their homes in the middle of the night to come to Maison Elise, and even a couple of girls trying to crawl all over Jamie.
"I do not care if your wife is La Dame Blanche, " one of them was saying to him in French. "Come to bed, Monsieur. You need it."
"I'm not interested," said Jamie without emotion. The girls would try again another couple of times before they gave up entirely, leaving Jamie to sulk on his own at his table.
So. Charles had already secured funding for his rebellion. Who had he secured this funding from? All he said was 'prominent Englishmen', and he already knew that one of Charles's supporters was Alasdair Fowlis. A sneaky man, that one. How did he manage to secure funding to give to Charles for his rebellion? Did his uncle, the Laird of Cìosamul, know his nephew was planning on funding a Jacobite uprising? Jamie let out a sigh as he took a sip of his wine, and then a slight movement caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. Glancing up, Jamie noticed a young boy - the same one Charles had ordered to fill their wine glasses earlier in the day - lurking behind a drunk patron at one of the tables. He watched as the boy sneakily, and expertly, picked the patron's pocket unnoticed, and then suddenly had an idea. A pickpocket could work wonders in stealing private letters from Charles…
Jamie watched as the young boy glanced around the room and then began to make his way to the back door. When Jamie was sure he couldn't see him, he got up to follow the young lad. He followed him down a hall, and when the lad suddenly broke out into a run out the back door, Jamie, too, followed him at a quick pace. This young lad was fast, another good trait for a pickpocket, but Jamie was still faster. He finally caught up to the joy, grasping him from behind and lifting him up off his feet. "Let go of me, you filthy English bastard!" the lad shouted at him in French. So he must have seen Jamie a few times to suspect that he was English.
"First of all," Jamie said, grunting as the lad struggled against him, "I'm a filthy Scottish bastard."
"Take me to the police and I will find your wife!" the young lad snapped at him in English, surprising Jamie a bit.
"Ye speak English," he observed.
"And when I find your wife, I will tell her you rut with whores!" shouted the young lad, and Jamie couldn't help but chuckle as he set the young lad down onto a large crate, holding him down firmly.
"No police," he said," and my wife wouldnae believe ye, but I'll bet Madame Elise wouldnae be happy te learn one of her servants is a thief." Suddenly, the boy's fierce face softened into one of worry.
"No, no! Please do not tell Madame Elise! Please, she will kill me if she thinks I steal from her customers!" the boy cried.
"No' a forgivin' kind, is she?" Jamie asked him, loosening his grip on the lad.
"I do not do it every night. Only- only when we are very busy and the gentlemen are very drunk," the lad defended himself.
"I'm no' interested in yer methods, lad. I'm only interested in you," he told the lad, who widened his eyes.
"Hey, I… I'm no whore," he said with a concerned tone, and Jamie cocked an eyebrow.
"Not like that, he said. "Is that common here?"
" Oui , sometimes… Sometimes, Madame Elise will have a patron who will pay extra…" Jamie held up a hand to stop the lad, who was visibly uncomfortable.
"Ye dinnae have te explain. No, ye wee fool, I want te offer ye a job, away from this and away from Madame Elise's patrons," he proposed to the lad, who sat up with interest.
"A job? Doing what?" the lad asked him.
"Exactly what ye've been doin'," Jamie told him. "As fer what ye've stolen…" He picked up the lad again and turned him upside down to turn out his pockets, resulting in a few frustrated yelps from the lad, and then sat him back down. "Ye can keep all of this…" Suddenly, one of the objects caught his eye, and he bent down to pick up a small wooden hand-carved snake that, sure enough, had 'Sawney' carved into the back of it. His snake? He checked his pockets - it wasn't there. He'd been so busy and distracted that he hadn't even noticed it was missing. "Ye wee bastard… That's my snake!"
"How much do you pay?" the lad asked him.
"A warm bed, a meal and a roof over yer head. Let's go, laddie," Jamie told him, pulling on the lad's arm. He quickly bent down to collect his stash before following Jamie down the street. "What's yer name?"
"Claudel, Milord," said the lad.
"Claudel?" Jamie asked curiously.
" Oui. It is not very manly. I hear you Scottish men have very manly names," said Claudel, and Jamie chuckled.
"Tha' we do," he said. "My name is James Fraser, Laird Broch Tuarach. I have a wife called Catrìona, who ye will refer to as yer lady, and two sons, Brian and Archie. If ye want a more manly Scottish name, we can give ye one."
"That would be wonderful!" said young Claudel.
"How aboot… Fergus?" Jamie asked him, and the young lad's face brightened up.
" Oui! I like it very much! Merci , Milord!" said the lad, now called Fergus.
"Then Fergus it is," said Jamie.
CATRÌONA POV
I was sound asleep when a bit of clattering woke me up. I had slept in the nursery on the floor beside the cots in case Brian had a flare up or Archie developed the croup. I sat up and stretched, then stood up to peer into the cots to check on Brian. He was sound asleep, breathing easily and pink as a berry. I smiled at his sleeping form, then found myself disturbed by yet another clattering from downstairs, so I pulled on my tartan and went downstairs to investigate. Following the sound to the dining room, I entered to find a young lad sitting at the head of the table, a greasy chicken leg in his hand.
"Who the hell are you ?" I demanded, thinking he was a thief who had broken in. He was slightly startled when he looked up at me. "What are ye doin' here?" The young lad got up and approached me, then mimed as if he were touching… breasts?
"You have such lovely voluptuous breasts," he said in French, and my eyes widened. Did this child just tell me I had nice breasts?
"Ye said the same thing te Suzette!" I heard Murtagh exclaim, and then realised he had been lingering in the corner.
"Well, that doesnae make me feel verra special," I replied, suspecting that something was up if Murtagh wasn't kicking the lad out of the house.
"The ladies are always very generous at Maison Elise when I give them compliments," the lad defended himself. Maison Elise? This child hung out at a brothel?
"So was Suzette. She gave him the chicken leg," said Murtagh as the lad happily bit into the chicken leg in question.
"This is all fascinatin' but I still dinnae ken who ye are," I said, and the young lad's eyes widened.
"You are Scottish like Milord! You must be Milady! Forgive me, Milady," said the lad, bowing to me, and then he looked at Murtagh, speaking in French. "She does not look like a lady."
"If you aren't careful, you'll find your ears boxed in," I told him in French, surprising him.
"Take him up te the servants' quarters, Murtagh," I heard Jamie's voice say, surprising me a little. "Suzette is preparin' a bath and has some nightclothes fer him."
"Goodnight, Milady," said the young lad, bowing to me, and then he bounded out of the room after Murtagh, chicken leg in hand.
"And watch yer pòcachadh !" Jamie called after Murtagh, who gave him a grunt in response. Watch his pockets? What on earth did Jamie bring into our house? I stood there still with my arms wrapped firmly around my midsection holding the tartan close while Jamie awkwardly stood there, and then he picked his head up to look at me. "Ye look like ye've somethin' te say."
"More or less wonderin' why a child is tellin' me I have nice breests and why yer tellin' Murtagh te watch his pockets around him," I replied calmly.
"He's a pickpocket. His name's Fergus," Jamie explained. "Well, Claudel, actually, but we both decided it's no' verra manly, and he likes Fergus."
"A pickpocket?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow. "Does everra house in Paris have a resident pickpocket?"
"I hired him as part of my plan," Jamie replied. "We need information that I cannae get directly from the prince. Information that comes in the form of letters from his father or other potential financiers, and most importantly, from these Englishmen the prince claims have pledged him funds, if they exist."
"So wee Fergus steals the letters…"
"And we copy them and he returns them before they've even been missed," Jamie finished for me.
"Hm. Tha's no' a bad plan, actually, barring he doesnae get caught," I told him.
"Thank ye. Fergus assures me he is a professional," said Jamie. Another somewhat awkward moment of silence passed between us. "How's Brian?"
"Better. He's breathin' better now," I answered.
"I… I'm sorry fer what I said when ye were treatin' him… It wasnae an opportune time, and ye were stressed, and I should have just kept my mouth shut," Jamie said suddenly.
"Aye, ye should have, but I thank ye fer the apology," I told him. He nodded, then glanced down at his feet.
"Goodnight, then," he told me, and then he turned and left the dining room, leaving me standing by myself.
8 March, 1744
Jared's House, Paris, France
That was the last of Jamie's apologies for quite some time. The second time I went to L'Hôpital des Anges a couple of days later, Jamie started another argument with me about bringing home diseases, which infuriated me that he was still on about it. "Nevermind the fact that any one of us could bring home a bloody disease from the streets of Paris, or Maison Elise!" I spat back at him. Cailean tried his best to mediate between the two of us, but was failing rather miserably. Jamie and I just could not stop disagreeing on this topic, and there was nothing Cailean could do to ease that.
Cailean, Murtagh and Jamie were hard at work copying letters and deciphering them for the rest of the time. All of them were coded, and some were more simple than others. Once Cailean had copied the letters, Fergus was sent to return the letter before it was missed, and they had a very good system going. Murtagh and Jamie would decipher while Cailean copied letter after letter, and Ferrgus would return the letter. I would have offered to help, but I was not on speaking terms with Jamie after that second argument, nor did I even want to be in the same room as him. However, if Murtagh or Cailean (more likely Cailean) were to ask for my help, I would not hesitate to offer it. In one particular case, Cailean called for me as I was passing the study one day to translate a letter in Welsh. Wales, in our time, was Scotland's ally, so it helped for us to know Welsh to communicate with them.
"Ye ken, my Welsh was never good," Cailean told me as he handed me the letter, which I read carefully.
"Then it's a good thing I ken the language well," I said, mindful of Murtagh's presence.
"Ye speak Welsh?" Murtagh asked with surprise.
"Catrìona's gifted in languages. She kens Gaelic, Irish, Welsh and French, in addition to English," Cailean told him.
"I know a wee bit of Spanish, too," I said as I looked at the letter. "Hmm… Rwy'n falch o ddweud fy mod yn dymuno rhoi'r arian angenrheidiol i chi…"
"What the hell kind of a barbaric tongue is that?" Murtagh demanded when he heard me reading the letter to myself.
"Ye heard them, ye dolt. It's Welsh," Jamie told him.
"It's one of the great Celtic languages, and is in the same family as Gaelic," I told Murtagh as I sat down at the desk that Jamie had vacated so I could write the translation.
"That nonsense cannae possibly be related te Gaelic," said Murtagh stubbornly.
"Who's it from?" Cailean asked me, looking over my shoulder as I finished reading over the letter a second time.
"A Welsh Lord, Sir Watkins Williams-Wynn," I answered. "He's speakin' of how he's supported James fer years and is pledgin' five thousand pounds te help aid in Charles's cause, but only if he's backed by the French," I said. "I'll still translate it, but tha's the gist of it." I wrote the English translation of Sir Watkins Williams-Wynn's letter on a separate piece of parchment. Once I had translated it into English, I corrected the grammar, then handed it back to Cailean. "I'll be off te L'Hôpital , a horde of wounded just arrived from Austria and I'm needed."
"Why are the wounded bein' brought te Paris?" Cailean asked me.
"They're treated on the battlefield, but space is limited, so anyone badly wounded and cannae fight is sent back te Paris fer treatment te make room fer wounded who can get back into the field," I explained. "If ye need me, ye ken where I am." I didn't glance at Jamie, but I could feel his eyes on me as I strode out of the room.
JAMIE POV
Jamie was reading over one of the letters, making an attempt at decoding it. It seemed to be from King James himself to his son, but it was a new code that he was unfamiliar with and needed to work out thoroughly. Cailean was at the desk, scribbling away as he transcribed another letter. "Got another here from King James," he'd said after a moment. "His handwriting, fer sure. He signed it 'Francis'."
"One of his given names," Jamie told him. "Fergus had better return soon. These letters must be returned before they're missed." Cailean was looking at the pile of letters that he'd finished transcribing.
"This seal has been removed at least three times before I removed it myself," he said to the two men in the room, standing to bring the copied letters to Jamie.
"We're no' the only ones interested in the Stuart correspondence," said Jamie, looking over the letters. "Everrathing is in code, but at least they're simple."
"Aye, and mostly aboot family gossip and the like," said Cailean, bringing Murtagh a couple of letters. Murtagh was staring at one of the letters with an incredulous look on his face. "What'd ye find? More Welsh?"
"What the devil is this?" he asked as Cailean bent over to look at the letter.
"Tha's music, ye dolt," Cailean replied, and Murtagh glared at him.
"I ken music when I see it. The question is, what's it doing in a letter?" he replied.
"I was tryin' te puzzle that one out myself earlier," Jamie said, knowing exactly which letter they were talking about. Cailean took the letter from Murtagh to get a better look at it.
"'A Song of the Country'. The lyrics arnae in English," he said.
"No, they're in German," Jamie answered him. "They're aboot a bonny day in a meadow."
"Another code?" Murtagh chimed in.
"It might no' be. Perhaps some German friend of Charles decided te send him some music te enjoy," Cailean chimed in.
"But the letter comes from England," Jamie told him.
"Germans live in England, although… this doesnae make much sense…" Cailean said as he examined the notes, and then he brought it to a large harpsichord in the corner of the room, sitting down on the stool and set the music up on the stand. He began to press down on the keys that matched the notes, and sure enough, the music sounded a bit rough to the ears. "It's like the writer cannae decide what key te put the song in. If I understood German and classical music better, it might help, but I've no' read music like this in years, and when I did, it wasnae anythin' so complicated as this."
"A code in music," said Murtagh after listening to Cailean. "Where are we going te find someone like tha'?"
"I can think of someone," Cailean said, and then he looked at Jamie. "Ye'll no' like the idea I'm sure, but I can go. Catrìona was tellin' me aboot this Mother Hildegard at L'Hôpital, she's a classically trained musician who speaks German." Jamie paused for a moment, suddenly recalling Catrìona saying something very similar to him after coming home from L'Höpital : 'She was a musical prodigy in her youth'.
"No," Jamie said suddenly, looking up at Cailean, who cocked an eyebrow. "I meant no, I'll no' send ye in my place. I need te go. I would look cowardly te yer sister if I sent ye instead."
"So long as ye'll no' try te force her te leave when ye get there," Cailean told him with a mild warning in his voice.
"Even if I wanted to, no force on Earth could budge that woman if she doesnae want te," Jamie replied. "You two continue decodin' the letters, I'll be back soon." With that said, he stood, leaving Cailean and Murtagh to put their heads together over the dozens of letters they still had to decode.
L'Hôpital des Anges, Paris, France
CATRÌONA POV
I was hard at work with Mother Hildegard over the body of a wounded soldier from Austria, puzzling over the fact that this man still had a fever and we could not figure out why. "The skin of the wound is pink, good granulation… No bad smells or dark streaks near the site of the injury," I was saying to Mother Hildegard.
"But his urine is dark and he is very warm," Mother Hildegard replied, feeling the man's forehead.
"Perhaps there's a secondary infection of some type?" I asked her. "He was wounded by a wagon that was hit by a cannonball, it's possible he sustained an injury we cannae see as well." I raised the man's shirt and palpated the abdomen. "No abdominal tenderness, that rules out cystitis or appendicitis…"
"Bouton," said Mother Hildegard, summoning the attention of her small dog. I had seen Bouton a couple of times sniff out the source of an infection. I didn't know how he did it, but he had a magical nose for sure. Bouton climbed onto the man's chest and sniffed around his mouth and nose, then whined. "No, you are right, it is not that," Mother Hildegard told him. "Try again." Bouton sniffed at the arms of the man, then moved further down to his legs, suddenly stopping at an injury on his inner thigh and barking at it.
"Tha's almost healed, there's no indication of infection," I said, palpating the site - sure enough, I felt an abnormal lump, and the man hissed in pain as I felt around the wound. I squeezed the area around the wound and a bit of pus came out.
"A pocket of putrefaction," said Mother Hildegard. "Shall I send for Monsieur Forez?"
"No, I can handle it. I'll need a small scalpel, some alcohol and a sterile cloth, please," I said to one of the nearby nuns, who did as I asked. Mother Hildegard, meanwhile, moved onto another patient while I tended to this one. I cut the wound open again to wash out the wound and rid it of pus, and when I was finished, bandaged it as well as I could. "What I wouldnae give fer a bit of iodine," I muttered quietly to myself.
"Iodine?" said a familiar male voice, and I lifted my head to meet Jamie's eyes standing in front of me.
"Jamie?" I asked. "What are ye doin' here? Are ye hurt?"
"No, but I, er… need help. Musically speakin'," he said to me awkwardly. "Ye did say Mother Hildegard kens music. I was hopin'…" The cry of a young nun behind me started us both and I whipped around to find a patient had fallen onto the floor, the nun alarmed at his sudden fall. I quickly raced over to the man's side and knelt down beside him, feeling for a pulse in his throat - there was none. He must have gone into cardiac arrest, which meant that I still had time to save him.
"I'm goin' te show you lot how we save drowning victims in the isles," I told the young nun and another that had joined us, positioning myself over the man to perform CPR. CPR wasn't used or even known about in this time, and likely would have been seen as an interference with the work of God. But I didn't believe in God, so I did what I could to at least try and save the man.
"What is she doing?" I heard a whisper in French behind me. It took several exhausting minutes, but soon enough, the man began to breathe again and had a weak, but steady pulse.
" Sacrebleu! " exclaimed another man nearby. "She has brought him back from the dead!"
"She really is La Dame Blanche," said another. La Dame Blanche?
"What is this?" Mother Hildegard asked, appearing beside me. "This man, he lives?"
"He does," I answered her.
"It is a miracle," said the young nun who had been with the man when he fell.
"Help him back onto his cot," Mother Hildegard ordered the young nun, and the two of them helped the man back up and onto his cot. Meanwhile, I stood and stepped out of the way, feeling Jamie's presence beside me.
"Tha' was incredible," he said to me with awe in his voice. "Ye brought tha' man back from death!"
"No' the first time for me," I said to him. I watched as Mother Hildegard examined the man, determining him stable, and then crossed over to me.
"You have performed a miracle," she said to me.
"It was nothin', truly," I replied, my cheeks flushing a bit pink. "Er… Mother Hildegard, this is my husband, James Fraser, Lord Broch Tuarach."
"A pleasure to meet you, Lord Broch Tuarach. You have a very gifted wife," Mother Hildegard said to him.
"Thank you kindly, Mother," Jamie said to her in French.
"What is it I can do for you, Monsieur ?" asked Sister Hildegard in English.
"Er… My wife here tells me yer good with music," Jamie began, pulling a piece of parchment out of his coat. Mother Hildegard led us to her office, where a clavichord could be found, and asked for the piece of paper, examining it closely. "My wife's brother, Mr. Cailean Fowlis, says that there's something odd about this."
"Odd?" I asked curiously, peering over Mother Hildegard's shoulder. Sure enough, it did look a little strange, and Mother Hildegard took the parchment, set it up on the stand on an aging clavichord and sat down to play the notes, which sounded very… strange, to say the least.
"This is a little strange," said Mother Hildegard, and then she paused to look at us. "Can you assure me that what you are doing is neither illegal nor dangerous?" I had to stop my eyes from widening a bit. How could she have known?
"Er… I can assure ye, Mother Hildegard, that if my husband is askin' fer help, then it's fer a good reason," I told her, glancing at Jamie out of the side of my eye.
"I see," said Mother Hildegard, and then she sat down to play some more notes. "That is the basic melody, and then it repeats itself in variations. I believe I have seen some things reminiscent of this…"
"Reminiscent? Ye mean similar?" Jamie asked her.
"Yes… An old friend of mine, Herr Bach, has done something very similar to this," Mother Hildegard replied as she examined the notes, and my eyes widened.
"Herr Bach? Ye mean… Johann Sebastian Bach?" I asked, recognising the name almost immediately, and Mother Hildegard chuckled.
"I am surprised you have heard of him," she told me, and my cheeks turned a little pink as I remembered where I was. "He sends me things, now and again. He calls them 'inventions', and though they are quite clever, but I'm afraid the music is not the sort to endure."
"Clever, but no heart," Jamie replied. Mother Hildegard continued to examine the notes, then played a much more coherent melody that sounded similar to the one on the parchment.
"This music is a clumsy version of Goldberg Variationen ," she said.
"The Goldberg Variations," said Jamie, translating, but I could have easily guessed.
"You see here, your mysterious composer has repeated the same melody as Herr Bach," said Mother Hildegard, playing the original melody of Bach's tune. "Almost," she said as she played the broken melody of the second tune. "But it appears that he has changed the key each variation."
"The key? And tha's unusual?" Jamie asked, glancing at me.
"Rapid key changes in such a short piece must be," I chimed in.
"Five key changes in such a short piece, some for no reason whatsoever," said Mother Hildegard.
"No musical reason, at least," I said. Mother Hildegard stood and removed the parchment from the stand, then handed it back to Jamie.
"Whoever wrote this seems to have a diabolical sense of humour," Mother Hildegard told him.
"Yes indeed," Jamie said, and then he looked at me. "I need to get this back and try to translate it as quickly as possible," he told me in Gaelic.
"I'd be glad to come. I can read music a little but Cailean has always been better," I replied, also in Gaelic.
"Ye can… stay here if ye like," Jamie told me in English. "Mother Hildegard is right… Ye have a gift." I was a bit surprised by this, but I gave him a slight smile.
"I… need te be gettin' back te the lads anyway. It's gettin' near time te feed them, but… thank ye," I said to Jamie, and then I glanced at Mother Hildegard. "Thank ye verra much fer yer help, we are verra appreciative."
"I am glad I could be of assistance," said Mother Hildegard. We both wished her a good day, and then Jamie and I both left L'Hôpital together. Jamie offered a hand to me to help me into the carriage, which I accepted, and then he followed me inside, closing the door behind him. He pulled out the parchment again and handed it to me to look over with this new piece of knowledge.
"So, the key is the key… Key change here… Two flats. Key change there… three sharps," I said, observing the notes carefully.
"I dinnae ken what any of that means, but I'm sure Charles does," Jamie replied. "He's a simple man, I doubt he would have decided this himself, and if he does, then it'll have te be easy. Maybe… the two flats means everra second letter at the start of that section, and three sharps means take everra third letter?"
"Guess we'll have te see when we get back home. It could be everra third letter, or it could be in the opposite direction," I told him. "Think it'll be in English or German?"
"That I dinnae ken," Jamie replied, and then he looked up at me. "This is good. If we didnae have yer connection to Mother Hildegard… we may not have ever figured this one out."
"Perhaps I was meant te volunteer at L'Hôpital fer more than one reason," said, my eyes still on the parchment, but I looked up to meet Jamie's when I felt his eyes on me.
"Yeah," he said. "Ye were." We arrived at Jared's home quickly and as soon as we did, Jamie and Cailean got to work decoding the letter while I went to tend to the lads. Once I was finished, I joined them, holding Brian in my arms while Cailean held Archie on his lap. It took a couple of hours to work through it all, but eventually, Jamie finished scribbling and stood, holding up the parchment.
"Does it make sense?" Cailean asked, looking up from entertaining Archie with the feather of a quill.
"Aye, it does," Jamie said, smiling as he read the parchment. "'I have successfully concluded negotiations with our three partners, all of whom are willing te contribute to our cause'."
" Three partners?" I asked with surprise.
"So the English conspirators are real," Cailean chimed in.
"And they're guaranteein' forty thousand pounds will be available te Charles," Jamie said as he read the rest of the letter.
"Forty thousand pounds. Holy hell," said Cailean.
"It's a sizeable amount, no doubt aboot tha', but forty thousand pounds isnae enough te fund a war, is it?" I asked the group.
"No, it isnae," said Jamie in agreement.
"So Charles lied?" Cailean asked him, but Jamie shook his head.
"I dinnae think so," he replied. "Exaggerated, maybe, and Duverney, when they speak, will be smart enough te ken a certain amount in a business such as this."
"Forty-thousand pounds… That could be enough te convince the King that the Jacobites have a chance," I chimed in.
'"I'll be back in Paris at the month's end, and am eager te finally meet ye face te face to solidify our agreement'," said Jamie, finishing the letter. "And then it's signed 'S'…" '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.'
"Sandringham," I muttered quietly, and the three men in the room glanced up at me.
"What's tha'?" Jamie asked me, raising an eyebrow.
"Sandringham," I repeated a bit louder. "It's him, I'm sure of it."
"The slimy wee bastard," Murtagh hissed from the corner.
"The Duke has had secret dealings with Dougal Mackenzie fer years. Geillis Duncan told me, when she told me she was pregnant with his bairn," I told them, and Jamie seemed very interested in this.
"Did he now?" he asked me. "Dougal is a verra committed Jacobite."
"And the Duke has been verra careful never te explicitly state his opinions te me," I said.
"So he's playin' both sides against the middle," said Cailean. "He'll be hedgin' his bets both for and against the Stuart rebellion."
"Power-hungry bastard. If he shows support fer both sides, the losing side need never ken he betrayed them," I said bitterly.
"Perhaps we can meet with Sandringham and convince him this is a bad investment," Jamie said suddenly. "Ye ken what this means, don't ye? We've figured it out!"
"I dinnae think tryin' te convince a power-hungry man te-" Cailean began, but Jamie cut him off, already on his way to the whisky decanter.
"This is cause fer celebration!" he said excitedly as he collected four glasses. Murtagh quickly joined Cailean and I and spoke in a very hushed whisper.
"If Jamie sits down with Sandringham and his secretary, ye ken what'll happen," he told us both.
"He'll find out aboot Randall," I said quietly, realising just what that could mean for Jamie. It meant he could easily run off to Scotland to kill Randall himself, and possibly be arrested and hanged.
"Ye need te tell him, and soon," Murtagh told us.
"I could go and speak te Sandringham alone," Cailean chimed in, but I shook my head.
"He'll no' let ye go alone, not when he kens he already has Sandringham's good opinion of him," I told my brother, and the three of us broke apart as Jamie returned with four glasses stacked in one another, pouring whisky into all three of them and passing them out. I handed Brian to Murtagh, who seemed a bit baffled to find himself holding a child, and Cailean and I both stood up.
"We've somethin' te celebrate today. A new milestone in our mission, a new achievement made," Jamie said, raising his glass, and the three of us did the same, masking our somewhat awkward expressions. "I cannae tell ye how good it feels te make progress after fightin' feathers fer so long. We still have problems te solve, but we will, in due time. A toast te…" He paused for a moment, and then glanced at me. "…te Mother Hildegard, without whom our enemies would still be unkent te us. And to my wife, wonderful mother of my two sons, who is always there when I need her." He smiled at me, causing my cheeks to burn pink, and then he looked at Cailean. "Te my good brother, who is damn good at decodin' messages, and te my godfather, without whom I dinnae ken if I would be alive." Murtagh and Cailean each nodded to him. " Slàinte mhath. "
" Slàinte mhath, " the three of us repeated, and we took a sip of our whisky. After he downed his whisky, Jamie pulled me into his arms and hugged me tightly, taking me off guard, but I couldn't help but feel thrilled that he was holding me in his arms again. He kissed my cheek, then pulled back from the embrace to smile at me, then frowned when he saw my strained expression.
"What is it, mo ghràidh? Ye look concerned," he asked. He was so happy, I couldn't tell him about Randall… Not now, at least. I would wait for another time; this was the first time he'd held me in what felt like months, and I wasn't prepared for him to stop.
"Oh, nothin', it's just… I cannae help but be concerned aboot Sandringham. He's a dangerous snake and I dinnae trust him," I said, ignoring the narrowed eyes from Murtagh.
"Och, na gabh dragh, mo ghràidh. Dinnae fash, everrathing will be all right now," he told me, raising a hand to cup my cheek. I nodded, then forced a smile and covered his hand with mine.
"I just love seein' ye so happy," I told him.
"Ye have yerself te thank fer that," he said to me, and after seeming to hesitate for a moment, perhaps wondering if it would be all right, he placed his hand beneath my chin and lifted my head to meet his lips, kissing me for the first time in ages. Oh, it was wonderful… I had almost forgotten how wonderful his kisses felt.
No, I couldn't ruin this moment between us by telling him about Randall. That would have to wait for another day.
After bringing the lads to Beth to put to bed, I went to my bedchamber to change out of my dress and I to my shift, wrapping my tartan around me and sitting in front of the vanity to brush out my red curls. I heard a knock at the door, and thinking it was Beth or a servant, I said, "Come in." In the reflection of the mirror, I watched as the door opened, and was a little surprised to see Jamie entering my bedchamber. "Jamie!" I quickly turned, grasping the brush tightly in my hand and spinning on the stool to face him.
"I, er… owe ye an apology fer gettin' upset with ye fer goin te L'Hôpital… Not just because of this development in our cause, but… but because ye belong there," he told me. "Yer a healer, and ye should be helpin' te save lives, I just cannae help but be worried fer ye."
"Ye dinnae need te fash, Jamie. I'm vaccinated against most illnesses and have natural immunity te others that are common today," I told him.
"I ken that, it's just… hard te believe…"
"I understand. Ye cannae see viruses or germs, nor can ye see how my immune cells protect me," I replied, and then I set the brush down on the vanity.
"How… How's Brian? I'm sorry I've no' been around much fer him, either… Truth is, I'm scared te death of losin' him," Jamie admitted.
"Oh, Jamie…" I stood and crossed the room to him, stopping in front of him. "He's… no' well. He seems te be gettin' worse with everra day, and now that it's getting warmer, his allergies are startin' te affect him. I wish that I had a better answer fer ye but I dinnae… but ye should spend as much time with him as ye can. We dinnae ken how much time he has left."
"Yer right, we dinnae ken… I promise I'll do my best te be home with ye and the lads more often, participate in helpin' te care fer them," Jamie told me. "I do love them, more than anythin' in the world… I didnae ken how much I could love somethin' until those two beautiful bairns came inte my life." He smiled at the thought of his sons, and then he met my eyes. "And I love you, too. I'm sorry if I've no' shown it."
"Jamie… I love ye, too," I said, smiling at him. He'd not told me he loved me in so long, and to hear the words uttered from his lips… I wanted to hold him so badly, but clearly, he still had something else to say.
"And I promise I've no' been seein' other women. I just… it's hard, Catrìona… dealin' with what Randall did te me," he told me, his eyes cast away. He could never look me in the eye when he spoke about Randall.
"I understand, Jamie. I've been there, too," I told him.
"When Randall raped ye, ye didnae turn me away," he said bitterly, more out of shame than anything.
"Because I'd been raped before, and I wasnae goin' te let Randall take control of me like those other bastards had… But everyone's different, Jamie. I'm here fer ye. Take all the time ye need, I'm no' goin' anywhere," I told him, raising my hand to rest on his arm. He pulled me into his arms and hugged me tightly, holding me firmly against his chest and burying his face in my shoulder. " M'eudail, yer only a man, ye cannae be expected te be perfect…" After a moment, I pulled back from the embrace and met his eyes, running one hand through his red curls. "Come te bed… Ye look like ye havenae slept in weeks." At this, he smiled just a little.
"I dinnae think I have," he replied. He took my hand in his and raised it to his lips, then let me lead him to my - our - bed, lying down beside me and allowing me to wrap my arms around him and hold him tightly. No, nothing was perfect, and I could still sense Randall between us in our bed - especially after finding out he was alive - but Jamie and I were on the mend. He slept peacefully in my arms, and I fought sleep so I could hold him and watch him, safe and secure in my arms, far away from bloody Black Jack Randall.