By all intents and purposes, Claire Beauchamp was a witch. She didn't have magical powers or a pointy hat or even a black cat, but she had travelled through time to the mid 18th century and she knew things that could save a man's life but land her on a bonfire.

She had been careful, so far, to stick to herbs and remedies that belonged in the 18th century. But it wasn't long before her skill was talked about throughout Paris. It soon became Paris' worst kept secret among the poor and the aristocracy alike.

—

I lived above a small apothecary shop I had bought the year before after healing enough grateful but wary rich to be able to afford it.

The door of that apothecary swung open violently as a group of large men carried another in. "Lie him down." I said, reacting immediately. I went to put some water on the boil and came back with some clean cloths. I bent down where the large red-headed man laid unconscious, bleeding through the wooden floors. "What happened?" I asked without looking away from him.

"I dinna ken, he was out cold when I found him mistress." An older Scottish man said.

"Fine. Then the rest of you can leave, you'll be no help crowding him." They all turned to exit, but I looked up at the man who'd spoken. "You can stay. He's family?"

"Aye." I watched in amusement as the man crossed his heart religiously, and then turned to watch me nervously. "He's ma godson."

It didn't take long at all for me to realise what was wrong with the man. He was suffering from a traumatic brain bleed, or a subdural haematoma. "Did he have a head injury recently?" I asked as I sterilised my knives and a hand-crank drill I'd crafted a few years ago for scenarios similar to this one. It hadn't been invented yet so I made sure to hide it.

"Aye, got hit over the head with an axe a few months ago. It's healed now though."

"Something must've happened today. He's bleeding in his brain."

"How d'ye ken that?"

"His eyes." I didn't have time to explain pupillary response to an 18th century Scot while his godson was dying on my floor. It turned out the blood was from a superficial wound on his shoulder that I would get to eventually.

"His eyes? Ye are La Dame Blanche." He said with equal wonder and fear as though he wasn't sure until now.

"That's what they call me." I said as I used the smallest knife to cut a chunk of the red curls out and then brought the drill up to the spot.

"Ye'll kill him!" The man moved towards me to reach out and stop me.

"Please restrain yourself sir. I am trying to save your godson's life." He moved back and I began to drill a hole into the unconscious man's skull. I only stopped when I felt the texture change to soft brain membrane.

As I pulled the drill out, thick red blood oozed out. I drilled in two other places before sterilising the holes and covering them with cloth. I wrapped the man's head in a bandage but he didn't wake.

So what if I'd found some incantations in a dusty old grimoire hidden beneath my floor boards one day, everyone thought I was a witch anyway, I might as well get the good out of it.

I stood to look the door and pull together all the curtains. I lit a few more candles and then grabbed a jar of dried hawthorn. The older man watched as a brewed a tea with it to reduce blood pressure and then sat down on my haunches by the unconscious man. I pinched his nose and poured the warm tea down his throat.

For show, the next ten minutes I spent reciting one of the incantations in Latin. Or as much of it as I could remember. It helped my business. It helped keep me alive and fed.

I was tending to the man's shoulder as he groggily opened his eyes. "Jamie? D'ye hear me lad?"

"Aye. Where am I?" The red-head, Jamie tried to sit up but Claire pushed his shoulders back down.

"Uhh…" The other man seemed stuck for words.

"La Dame Blanche's apothecary." I said.

He didn't notice me until I spoke. I could see it on his glass face. He thought I was ethereal, other-worldly. Until he realised what I had said and slid away from me with hate in his face.

"Ye brought me tae a witch Murtagh?" He was angry, angrier than angry. Fuming, smoking coming from his ears.

"I dinna have much choice. Ye were half-dead Jamie."

"Well then what do I owe you mistress? I'd like tae go home now."

"Nothing." I said. "Just come back in two weeks so I know your wounds aren't infected… inflamed. And keep them clean and dry."

"Ye put holes in ma head lass. I willnae be back."

"If I didn't you would be dead."

"And how's that?" We were both furious and standing toe to toe now without realising we had moved.

"I drained the blood build-up in your brain. The pressure would've killed you."

"And I thank ye, but I willnae be back." Jamie twisted the key in the lock and left. The other man, Murtagh turned back to me.

"I'm sorry. The lad doesn't take well to witchcraft." He bowed his head and followed after his godson.

"Not many people do." I said glumly. Maybe I shouldn't have put on the performance. Although it was Jamie who was angry and he didn't see any of it. Just my name was enough to send him running.

I closed up the shop for the evening and headed to bed quickly finding myself not all that hungry. I didn't realise how much I missed or enjoyed the rush of healing. Sure I healed with my herbs, but it wasn't the same as having someone completely depend on you for their life. It just wasn't the same as feeling the adrenaline that came with blood and death.

I really was disheartened that Jamie wasn't coming back. It was imperative for his health. 1730s Paris was a much filthier place than 1920s England where I had grown up.

As I laid down on my bed in my shift, I remembered three years ago, tumbling through the stones at Craigh Na Dun and then making the choice to set up a life in France, to avoid the rising dangers in England and Scotland. At least until temperaments in France got bad.

That night I dreamt of a tall red-headed man with startlingly blue eyes and his large calloused hands running up and down my smooth skin. His face shone with love and when he kissed me, everything else was white noise.

I woke hot and flustered and got ready for opening my shop. As customer after customer came in, I worked robotically; listening, diagnosing, passing over bags of herbs, explaining and then taking payment. It was all nowhere near as interesting as my patient last night. Or his burr holes.

I wrote a note in French 'Around back in garden' and rested it between a glass jar and the window. I swapped my regular shoes for boots that were as sturdy as they were muddy and far too big. And then I headed out back to tend my herb garden.

Not too much later, a shadow fell over me and the soil. I looked up. "Jamie." I said, rubbing my hands together to get them clean.

"Mistress." He looked uncomfortable.

"Are you feeling okay?"

"Aye." He shifted awkwardly.

"Then… would you like to come in?" I stood up.

"No thank ye. I… I felt like payment was necessary. Ye saved my life and I was ungrateful. Here." He extended his hand and dropped coins into mine.

"I told you it wasn't necessary."

"T'was. I don't owe ye a debt any longer aye?"

"Aye." I smiled. He looked relieved. "Did you think I would curse you or something."

"I was mightily rude."

"I don't have powers Jamie. I'm just a very good healer."

"Are ye not La Dame Blanche?"

"People call me that, yes, but I'm not a witch."

"Just verra good at yer job." His face was unreadable.

"Yes."

"Murtagh said…"

"Occasionally I put on a show. People pay more. It makes people afraid of me, that's the best protection."

"Oh." I wasn't sure if he believed me or not. "I'll see you in two weeks mistress." I smiled.

"Claire."

"Claire." He nodded and took his leave. Either he believed me or he didn't. It shouldn't matter. He shouldn't matter.

But I couldn't ignore the truth that he did.

It was getting dark so I packed up my basket and hung up all the herbs I had collected to dry. And then I locked up the store.

Tonight's dream was similar. Jamie held me in his arms. We were lying in an empty meadow on a patch of soft heather, my head on his chest. His fingers were twirling my hair and while he was watching me, I was watching him.

Sunlight hit his face on the side, uncovering some freckles and dying his hair a brighter shade. I brought my hand up to his cheek and stroked gently. He was warm. "We have to go back." I whispered.

"Just another minute Sassenach. Let me have another minute." He stared at me with all the love in the world.

It left me empty and aching in a different way to the night before. My bed was too big. My house too empty. Jamie-less.

I took a deep breath and then readied myself for the day. It took far more willpower today. All I wanted was to close my eyes and fall back into the dream world where it was just the two of us together. But I couldn't. I had to work.

The morning started similarly to every morning the last year until Mathilda came in. "The herbs aren't ready yet." I said, but stopped when I saw the blood staining her dress. "Where are you hurt?"

"Not me. Claudel."

"Claudel? Who's that?"

"You must come Claire." The woman was frantic.

"Of course." I rapidly gathered up my medical box, still where I left it two days ago. And I followed Mathilda to Maison Elise.

I hated the lives they were forced to live here, but I understood it. I had even thought about it for a while when I had first come to France, it was a close call. I hadn't the money to be picky about my profession for some time. Luckily I managed to heal the right people to ensure things didn't get much further than thought.

Mathilda led me to a bedroom where a small boy, maybe five or six years old laid passed out. He was covered in blood and bruises. I rushed over, switching on my medical side. I checked his pulse, then his airways and finally his eyes. He had been badly beaten.

"Who did this?" I asked.

"A client. Claudel was in here. I didn't know. The man came in to wait for me, but he said…" She was shaking violently. "He said Claudel was more his type." She left the room in tears.

There was shouting outside as I cleaned the boy up and stitched his gashes. "He's just a child. If his mother was alive, she'd want us to keep him safe." I carefully rolled him on his side and pulled his britches down, hoping he wouldn't wake. I examined him and let out a shaky breath when I came to the conclusion that he wasn't raped. He must've stopped it only to be beaten. I laid Claudel back down.

"Is this safe?" It was Madam Elise. "In a whorehouse, lying half-dead? He can't stay." Her assessment of half-dead was familiar if not an exaggeration.

"We'll keep him out of sight and we'll pay to feed him ourselves."

"No Mathilda. The boy goes. No argument. I won't let him become a whore before he can make that decision for himself."

"As you say Madam."

Mathilda returned with a sour look on her face. She sat on the bed next to the boy. She stroked his hair back and kissed his forehead with a motherly look in her eye. "Notre garçon miracle." (Our miracle boy.)

"Where will he go?" I asked quietly, not wanting to disturb the solemn atmosphere.

"The streets, until we can find him a home."

"That's terrible."

"That's life La Dame Blanche."

I sat back, watching Mathilda cradle the small body in her arms, tears running silently down her face. He wasn't her son, but he might as well have been for all the love in her eyes.

"I'll take him." I said without thinking. After a moment of thought though, I realised I meant it.

"But… you are a witch no?"

"No." I said earnestly. She looked into my eyes and saw the truth. I was just like her, destroying my reputation, rebuilding a new one to survive.

"Alright. You keep him safe Claire." Mathilda handed me the boy's prone body and my medical box.

"With my life." I nodded, and then I was on my way home.

I gave Claudel my bed for now, planning to buy him a separate one and to turn my small library into a child's bedroom. I tucked him in, and then I dragged a wooden chair through to the other side of the bed. I prepared a plate of bread and cheese to nibble on which I placed at the foot of the bed.

I wrote another note for the shop window. 'Emergencies only for a short while.'

And then I took up my vigil at Claudel's side. I waited, reading a book, daydreaming, sleeping for him to wake up. I prayed that I wouldn't have to create burr holes in his head, but there didn't seem to be any pressure build up in his head.

Claudel took a full day to wake up, it made me nervous. "Où suis-je?" (Where am I?)

"My name is Claire, I'm a healer. You're at my house."

"But… Mathilda, Alma, Celeste."

"You can visit them of course, but Madam Elise can't let you live there anymore."

"I'm too tempting."

"Right." I was more than a little enraged that he knew that. "Claudel…"

"Oui milady?"

"Have you ever been touched by a client before?"

"No milady. But I see the looks."

"How old are you?"

"Six. Where shall I go milady?"

"You'll stay here with me."

"Really? Truly?"

"Yes. If that's what you want. We aren't too far from Maison Elise. Your friends may visit if you'd like."

"I would milady." He looked cheerful.

"Good because I think I'd like the company." I smiled. "Are you hungry?"

"Oui milady." I passed over a new plate of bread and cheese and stood up to get some water for the boy.

I heard a pounding knock at the door. "Claire! Are ye sick?" It was Jamie. I hurried down the steps and pulled the door open for him. "Are ye sick?" He asked again, examining me worriedly.

"No, I'm fine." I was confused.

"What's with the sign then?"

"Oh. I… I'm with a patient."

"I should go. I'm sorry to disturb ye Sassenach." I froze.

"What did you say?"

"I should go."

"No, what did you call me?"

"Sassenach. I'm sorry, I ken it's an insult but it's ironic because we're both sassenachs here, ye ken."

"I think you should come in Jamie."

"But yer patient?"

"Come on." I led him up the stairs to my space. As I reached the bedroom, I looked back at Jamie.

"Claire, this isna proper." His ears were pink-tinged.

"Shut up and come in." I opened the bedroom door.

"Milady." Claudel looked up from the bed. "I saved you some bread."

"Claudel, this is Jamie." I introduced. "Jamie, Claudel." I sat down on the wooden chair and watched them watch each other.

"Is he your husband milady? I'm sorry milord, I'm in your bed." Claudel climbed out and stood awkwardly before Jamie.

"I'm not married Claudel. Get back in bed." I smirked.

"Oui milady." He hopped back under the sheets.

"I'm a patient too and, I hope, Claire's friend." Jamie said finally. I was confused. Why was he here. He was so mad before and then he was nervous and now he wanted to be my friend?

"Can you keep each other company for me so I can go and buy some more food, this is the last of it." I held up the hunk of bread Claudel had left for me.

"Of course Sassenach." He looked at me a little like dream-Jamie looked at me and I don't know if that made me more or less wary of him.

"Stay out of trouble." I said to Claudel and then I left.

I don't know why I did it, not really. But I did know that it was nice to have a full house for once.

When I returned, I heard laughter. A large smile appeared on my face as I watched Jamie and Claudel pretending to fight with invisible swords through my parlour. I put on a straight face and turned to Claudel. "You are meant to be in bed resting." I turned to Jamie. "And you had brain surgery a few days ago. You shouldn't be this active. If it was down to me, you'd both be in bed."

"But milady, we cannot protect you if we're in bed."

"I'm sure Claire can protect herself fine lad."

"He's right Claudel, to bed with you." I said.

"Claudel is too feminine. Call me Fergus from now on." Claudel said.

"I suppose this is your doing." I turned to Jamie.

"It's a braw name Sassenach. Ye canna deny that."

"Alright. To bed with you… Fergus."

"Can Jamie stay?" He asked.

"If Jamie wants he can stay." I didn't want to trap him but I also didn't want him to go anywhere either.

"I should head back. Sorry Fergus." Jamie said, standing up too quickly. He gripped onto the bed frame until his knuckles turned white.

"Get in the bed Jamie." I said as he almost fainted.

"I'll be fine Sassenach. Dinna fash."

"No, you won't. Get in the bed." Jamie realised my stubbornness and nodded. I pulled up the sheets next to Fergus who shuffled over. He climbed in and groaned when his head hit the pillow. "I should change your bandage, make sure you aren't bleeding again." I said.

I left the two boys in my bed to get some clean fabric for bandages. As I got back, I heard snoring. Two sets. I laughed as quietly as I could, set the cloth on top of the table next to the bed. And then I curled up on the wooden chair. As uncomfortable as it was, there was nowhere else I'd rather be.

Large calloused hands holding my face appeared in my dreams. They wiped away my tears. "It's alright Sassenach, yer alright." I was in shock. My body wouldn't move as he wrapped me up tight in his arms and rested my head on his chest. "Och, yer frozen lass." His hands swiped up and down my arms to warm them.

Except that felt too real, almost like it was actually happening. I woke with a start. Jamie was crouching in front of me trying to warm me up but he stopped when he noticed I was awake.

"Sorry Sassenach. Ye were shivering. Have ye no' got a fire?"

"Downstairs, but I don't leave it burning while I'm up here."

"D'ye have anymore blankets?"

"No."

"I'll sleep on the floor then, ye can take the bed."

"I'm not tired anymore. I should open the shop soon."

"Of course."

Jamie let me change his bandages, there was no infection but head wounds are particularly vulnerable and their infections are often fatal. He climbed back into bed, eyes heavy and his breath relaxing. "Jamie?"

"Aye?" He was on the brink of sleep now.

"Why do you call me Sassenach?"

"'Cause it's what I call ye in ma dreams." And he was asleep. I froze. He was having dreams of us too?

I cleaned myself up a little and fixed my hair and then I went to open up the shop. I removed the sign I made and started up a fire.

Not many people came in today. Most still expected it to be closed. I still expected it to be closed. But both my boys were asleep upstairs so I might as well be making money.

I worked quickly, tying up the bundles of dried herbs for the girls at Maison Elise and an extra one for Alma. Last time I saw her, it looked like she might have Chlamydia.

Fergus was still too weak to go with me, but I decided he could take next month's herbs for the women. He would be happy about that, I thought.

The girls weren't very talkative when I got there. They just wanted to know if Fergus was alright and if he was happy. I remembered the laughter I'd heard and smiled. He seemed to be happy. I had a talk with Alma. She'd feared as much but was grateful for the herbs.

Jamie was awake when I returned. "I should go Sassenach."

"I would prefer it if you didn't."

"As would I. But Murtagh will be wondering where I am."

"What do you both do for work here?"

"Weel, I'm meant tae be studying at l'université. Murtagh does a lot of manual labour."

"Good, that's what I was hoping for."

"Aye?" Jamie raised his eyebrows.

"I need help changing my library to a bedroom for Fergus. I'll pay of course."

"I'll talk tae Murtagh. We've a couple o' friends visiting at tha moment. They'll lend a hand. I'll come back tomorrow Sassenach." He smiled.

"I'll hold you to that."

"Aye, ye should." Jamie left.

Fergus was sitting up in bed when I got upstairs. "Are you feeling better?"

"Oui milady, where is milord?"

"He went home, but he'll be back tomorrow. Do you like him?"

"Very much. Do you like him milady?" He asked with a knowing look on his face.

"I do."

"Good." He smiled at me.

"Hungry?" I changed the topic quickly.

"Oui milady."

As we were eating, there was a knock on the shop door. I stood quickly and moved to open it with caution. "Are you Mademoiselle Beauchamp?" A man, who I quickly identified as a servant, asked.

"Yes, can I help you?"

"I have an invitation for you." He handed me the letter and left without another word.

I closed the door and returned to Fergus. He watched me as I broke the wax seal. It was an invitation to be a guest of the king at a ball in three days time. "Are you going to go?" Fergus asked when I told him the contents of the letter.

"I don't know. I don't have anything to wear."

"You cannot deny the king milady."

"I suppose not. I guess I'm going shopping then. Maybe I can convince Jamie to stay here with you tomorrow while I'm out."

"I could help milady. I know what men like."

"You know what men like on whores. And besides, I'm not looking for a man."

"No?" He asked with an innocent look on his face.

"No." I said with a firm stubbornness I'm not sure I believed. "Eat your food. We're not talking about this anymore."

I began to regret that though when Fergus didn't say anything else at all.

I wasn't sure what my life had become. I wanted to be left alone. I thought I did anyway. Relationships attract scrutiny. I now had a son and a man who couldn't seem to leave me alone as much as I couldn't stop thinking about him. Soon Fergus would learn that I'm the town witch and he would have a choice. Leave or stay. I would rather he stayed of course, but it might be better for everyone if he left. I'm not a mother. And it was just a matter of time before I got killed. The 18th century wasn't particularly kind to witches, or pariahs alike.