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Chapter 27. THE LAST REASON
We ate like wolves at di
After breakfast the men prepared to go out, visiting tenants, inspecting fences, mending wagons, and generally enjoying themselves. As they paused in the hall to don their coats, Ian spotted Je
“Shall I fetch home some apples from the orchard, Je
“Good idea,” said Jamie, casting an appraising eye at his sister’s expansive frontage. “We di
“I’ll drop you where ye stand, Jamie Fraser,” she retorted, calmly holding up the coat for Ian to shrug into. “Be useful for the once, and take this wee fiend outside wi’ ye. Mrs. Crook’s in the washhouse; ye can leave him there.” She moved her foot, dislodging small Jamie, who was clinging to her skirts, chanting “up, up” monotonously.
His uncle obediently grabbed the wee fiend around the middle and swept him out the door, upside down and shrieking with delight. “Ah,” Je
Her cheeks were slightly flushed, and her dark hair gleamed against the blue silk of her dress. Ian smiled at her, warm brown eyes glowing at the blooming picture she presented.
“Weel, you’ll have time to talk wi’ Claire, perhaps,” he suggested. He cocked one eyebrow in my direction. “I expect she’s ma
Je
“I’m none too worried, man. There’s no coach going before next April, and I reckon she’ll be used to us by that time. Get on wi’ ye; Jamie’s waiting.”
While the men went about their business, Je
Outwardly friendly, we circled each other cautiously in conversation, watching each other from the corners of our eyes. Jamie’s sister, Jamie’s wife; Jamie was the central point, unspoken, about which our thoughts revolved.
Their shared childhood linked them forever, like the warp and the weft of a single fabric, but the patterns of their weave had been loosened, by absence and suspicion, then by marriage. Ian’s thread had been present in their weaving since the begi
Our conversation ran on casual lines, but with the words unspoken clearly heard beneath.
“You’ve run the house here alone since your mother died?”
“Oh, aye. Since I was ten.”
I had the nurturing and the loving of him as a boy. What will you do with the man I helped make?
“Jamie says as you’re a rare fine healer.”
“I mended his shoulder for him when we first met.”
Yes, I am capable, and kind. I will care for him.
“I hear ye married very quickly.”
Did you wed my brother for his land and money?
“Yes, it was quick. I didn’t even know Jamie’s true surname until just before the ceremony.”
I didn’t know he was laird of this place; I can only have married him for himself.
And so it went through the morning, a light luncheon, and into the hours of the afternoon, as we exchanged small talk, tidbits of information, opinions, small and hesitant jokes, taking each other’s measure. A woman who had run a large household since the age of ten, who had managed the estate since her father’s death and her brother’s disappearance, was not a person to be lightly esteemed. I did wonder what she thought of me, but she seemed as capable as her brother of hiding her thoughts when she chose to.
As the clock on the mantelpiece began to strike five, Je
She began clumsily to reach for it, but I dropped to my knees beside her.
“No, I’ll get it.”
“Thank ye… Claire.” Her first use of my name was accompanied by a shy smile, and I returned it.
Before we could return to our conversation, we were interrupted by the arrival of Mrs. Crook, the housekeeper, who poked a long nose into the parlor and inquired worriedly whether we had seen wee Master Jamie.
Je
Je
“Got away again, has he? Nay worry, Lizzie. He’s likely gone wi’ his Da or his uncle. We’ll go and see, shall we, Claire? I could use a breath of air before supper.”
She rose heavily to her feet and pressed her hands against the small of her back. She groaned and gave me a wry smile.
“Three weeks, about. I ca
We walked slowly through the grounds outside, Je
As we approached the corner of the dovecote, we heard voices in the arbor.
“There he is, the wee rascal!” Je
“Wait a minute.” I laid a hand on her arm, recognizing the deeper voice that underlaid the little boy’s.
“Di
I stuck my head around the corner, to find him seated on a chopping block, engaged in converse with his namesake, who was struggling manfully with the folds of his smock.
“What are you doing with the child?” I inquired cautiously.
“I’m teachin’ young James here the fine art of not pissing on his feet,” he explained. “Seems the least his uncle could do for him.”
I raised one eyebrow. “Talk is cheap. Seems the least his uncle could do is show him.”
He gri
“Ahem,” said Je
“ ‘To everything there is a season,’ ” he quoted, “ ‘and a time for every purpose under heaven.’ First we work, wee James, and then we wash. And then – thank God – it’s time for supper.”
The most pressing matters of business attended to, Jamie took time the next afternoon to show me over the house. Built in 1702, it was indeed modern for its time, with such i