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ladycumhangabhainn · 4 years ago

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Dans un autre monde - Part 11

The ride back from Craigh na Dun was spent in relative silence, except for Roger quiet sobs. Mrs Graham was sitting in the back seat with him while a red eyed Reverend drove the Anglia back to Inverness. As much as he had believed everything Claire had told him, actually seeing her and the girls passing through the Stones had made things even more real.

As they pulled into the rectory’s driveway, they noticed a forest green Land Rover parked by the entrance and a young couple waiting.

“Father, look! It’s Auntie Claire!”

The reverend had barely stopped the car before the little boy opened the door and ran toward the young woman who, while looking incredibly like Claire, was clearly too tall and looked much younger.

“Auntie Claire! I knew ye’d be back! Where are... Ye’re not me Auntie Claire!”

The young woman smiled warmly, crouching to the little boy.

“No, I’m not your Auntie Claire. My name’s Clara and you, dashing wee gentleman, must be Roger. I heard a lot about you, young man.”

“Ye ken my Auntie Claire?! She just left with the girls...”

“I... You could say I know her... Here, this nice man is my cousin, who’s also named Roger. If you ask nicely he’ll show you around his brand new Rover...”

The little boy didn’t need to be told twice and ran toward the redheaded young man.

“May we help ye, Miss...”

“Fraser, Clara Fraser from Fraser Press. And this is my cousin, Roger Murray. It’s an honour to finally meet you, Reverend Wakefield.”

“I imagine ye are nae here to bring me new published books...”

“No, I’m not...”

“Well, we should all get inside, right Reverend? Roger, lad!”

Both Roger turned toward Mrs Graham, making Clara Fraser laugh softly.

“A Diah! There’s two of them now... Come, both of ye!”

***

Clara Fraser and Roger Murray were seated in the sitting room of the rectory, waiting for Mrs Graham and the Reverend. The former had taken wee Roger to his room while the latter was fetching his best Scotch.

“I cannae believe it, Clara! It’s Roger Mac and he’s a wee laddie!”

“Hush, Roger! You know we can’t let them know about that... But you’re right, it’s quite bizarre. Wait ‘til we tell Grand-Père...”

The Reverend and Mrs Graham finally joined them, bringing a decanter and glasses.

“So... Miss Fraser, Mister Murray...” started the Reverend. “If I remember correctly from what Claire told us, I would assume that ye are both related to her...”

“You are correct. Both Roger and I are descendants of Claire and James Fraser. I... I don’t know what we should and what we shouldn’t tell you... This whole time travelling...”

The two cousins exchanged looks before coming up with an answer.

“Clara is a direct descendant of Claire and Jamie’s first son, Fergus. As fer me, my da is a direct descendant of Jamie’s sister, Jenny, and my ma is Clara’s aunt, a descendant of Fergus.”

“So ye must ken that Claire and the wee lasses left this morning...”

Clara nodded.

“As you must know, Fraser Press was first established as a printshop by Fergus Fraser, Claire and Jamie’s son... Our many times great-grandfather... When he first started it, his mother gave him and his descendants a task, an important task. She gave Fergus a large chest, containing hundreds of letters she wrote for a man who wasn’t even born yet. Fraser Press kept this chest through the year until it was time to bring it here and give you the first of the letter.”

She searched her handbag and handed him a letter sealed with wax.

“This is the first letter... We have a very specific timeline for each of the others. We will post them accordingly.”

The Reverend looked at the wax seal bearing the crest of the Fraser of Lovat and their moto, Je Suis Prest.

“Reverend... May I ask ye something?”

“Go ahead, son...”

“What is she like? Claire, I mean... We saw portraits, there is a rather large one at Lallybroch and another one at Grand-Père Fraser’s house in Edinburgh...”

Mrs Graham was the one to answer, seeing as the Reverend was clearly taken by emotion.

“She’s quite the lady, our Claire. Ahead of her time, even by today’s standard, right Reverend?”

The old man nodded, trying very hard not to broke down and cry. Finally he raised his glass.

“To Claire Beauchamp Fraser... A unique lady, ahead of her time!”

*****

To my dear Reggie,

If you are reading this letter, then my plan worked and my Fergus’ descendants were able to keep the hundreds of letters I wrote to you through the years. Although for you I just left this morning, for me it has been many, many years. I am now even older than you currently are. My hair is still as thick and curly as ever, but now it is streaked with grey. But to Jamie I am still his Mo Nighean Donn.

I am now an old woman, an old woman who had the joy and privilege of watching my children grow up and start their own families. But I want you to know that I never forgot you, neither did the girls. Each of my children and grandchildren grew up knowing about their Uncle Reggie without whom I wouldn’t have found my way back to my Jamie.

You should received the first letter I wrote to you in a week.

Please kiss Roger and Mrs Graham for me.

Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp Fraser

TBC...

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ladycumhangabhainn · 4 years ago

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Dans un autre monde - Chapter 10

Previously

I was coming to the end of my story, how Jamie had gotten me and Faith to Craigh na Dun when the entrance door came bursting open and the sound of Faith, Brianna and Roger’s crying filled the Rectory.

“Mama!” shouted my youngest.

“Bree, darling, what’s the matter?”

“Roger, lad, why are ye all crying?”

At the grand old age of 9, Roger wasn’t known to cry for nothing, so something must have happened. Before the sweet lad could answer, the younger Mrs Graham came in, carrying her own daughter Fiona.

“Reverend, Miss Beauchamp, I think yer lad and lassies might have some ear infection... We were having a picnic, then they started complaining about their ears...”

“Mama, they scweamed!” sobbed Faith. “They were so loud, mama!”

I frowned. “What was so loud? Roger, what is she talking about?”

“The sound, auntie Claire, the sound was awful!”

Sound? Screams?

“Where did you say you went on your picnic?”

“Just outside the city, Miss Beauchamp. Near this hill, Craigh na Dun.”

It took time, some cajoling and a full platter of Mrs Graham’s biscuits, but I finally succeeded in calming Roger, Faith and Brianna. They exhausted themselves and were now all napping in the girls’ room. I made my way back to Reggie’s study, the manse quiet except for the soft music coming from the kitchen.

“Reggie...”

The reverend’s desk was scattered with papers, the letters and proclamation I had found, but also what looked like a family tree and a piece of paper filled with Reggie’s familiar scribbling.

“The bairns...”

“They exhausted themselves. They’re napping in the girls’ room.”

“Good... I’ve been looking through all the papers ye found and tried to make a timeline... We are now in August 1950 which means that during yer Jamie’s time it is now August 1748... 202 years difference, right?”

I nodded and noted his frowned expression.

“What seems to be the problem, Reggie?”

He sighed.

“It’s all those dates... Nothing is right! The letter from the French King is dated May of 1748... And this letter from the Duke of Cumberland is dated September of 1748... In September 1748, Cumberland was in the Holy Roman Empire for the signing of the Treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle! It is impossible that ye and the lassies... Unless...”

He started opening drawers full of paperwork, fished out a photograph before going to the mantle of the fireplace and taking a framed document.

“McMaster!” he exclaimed, handing me the framed and the picture.

The framed contained what looked like a very old document in Latin with several seals at the bottom.

“I don’t understand... What is this document and who or what is McMaster?”

A smile appeared on the Reverend’s face.

“This, me dear, is a photograph of the Declaration of Arbroath, the letters the Scottish barons sent to Pope John XXII in 1320 in response to the excommunication of Robert the Bruce. It is currently held at the Scottish Record Office in Edinburgh. And this” he pointed to the frame, “is an almost perfect copy of the Declaration that was made by a dear friend of mine, Ray McMaster.”

“A copy, you say?”

I couldn’t quite believe that this document was not the real deal. It looks exactly like the one in the picture, albeit without the signs of time.

“So your friend, McMaster... He’s a counterfeiter?”

Reggie let out a jolly laugh.

“In another life he might have been... No, he is an artist. He works with several museums throughout Britain. As ye must know from yer experiences with yer Uncle Lambert, artifacts are priceless and mostly fragile. It is the same for documents and that’s when Ray comes in. He made several copies of documents that are on display at the Culloden Museum, like letters from Bonnie Prince Charlie and the Scottish Lairds Declaration to the Old Pretender.”

“You want to ask your friend to make copies of King Louis and the Duke of Cumberland’s letters...”

“Yes! It might take him awhile; Ray is quite the perfectionist... But the proclamation is dated July of 1749, so it will give you and the girl time to get ready to make the trip back through the stones...”

He smiled, sheepishly.

“And it will give us time to get use to the idea of ye and yer lasses leaving...”

I sighed before hugging him. The girls and I would be reunited with Jamie and our family back in the 18th century, but it will mean saying goodbye to our 20th century family. The idea of leaving Reggie, Roger and Mrs Graham suddenly made me feel faint...

“Promise me something, lass... Promise me ye’ll try to find a way to get word to us, to let us ken ye are all safe...”

“I promise, Reggie... I think I might even have an idea how. You do business with a publishing house from Edinburgh, Fraser Press. It was founded back in the 18th century as F.A.M.M. Fraser, Printer and Book Seller...”

He frowned. “F.A.M.M. Fraser? Yer lad, Fergus?”

I nodded. “According to Mrs Graham, Fraser Press still belongs to my Fergus’ descendants... I’ll forever be thankful for what you did for me and my girls...”

“I feel as if ye and yer lasses are me own... Like ye are part of me family and... maybe ye are, in a way.”

He took the family tree from the table, it was a MacKenzie family tree.

“Tis wee Roger’s family tree, from his father’s side. See if ye can find any name ye recognize...”

I looked at the very top and let out a gasp.

“William John and Sarah MacKenzie... They’re... They adopted Dougal and Geillis’ son... Oh my God! That means that Roger is...”

“Dougal, ye mean the War Chieftain of clan MacKenzie?”

“Yes, he was Jamie’s uncle, his mother’s brother... He had an affair with Geillis Duncan, the fiscal’s wife, but... She was a traveler, from 1968... And Roger can hear the stones as well... But then he is...”

I tried to calculate in my head, but Reggie was quicker.

“It means that wee Roger is yer lasses’ 2nd cousin, 6 times removed. So ye are, indeed, family.”

“So I truly am Auntie Claire!”

We laughed and cried at the same time, Reggie holding me in his arms and whispering softly. I felt so safe in his embrace. It reminded me of how safe I felt in Uncle Lamb’s embrace.

“Now, me dear, we have to make preparations...”

****

And so we did. First we had to contact Mr McMaster who took quite his time responding to the message Reggie left with his assistant. Then with the help of Mrs Graham and her coven of druids, we salvaged pieces of the clothing Faith and I had wore on our arrival to 1948 and made three new dresses with lots of hidden pockets.

Slowly I started to get the girls to the idea that we would be leaving our current lives to be reunited with Jamie and Fergus. Faith had an easier time accepting it than Brianna. The 20th Century was all she had known and, although she had been quite young, my eldest daughter still had vivid memories of our lives in the past. She was able to get her sister excited at the prospect of finally meeting their father and their brother. My sweet little girl made sure to tell Brianna that both Jamie and Fergus would love her and that Fergus would teach her all the French comptines she couldn’t remember.

We celebrated first Faith’s 4th birthday, then my own 32nd and finally Brianna’s 2nd. After Hogmanay, the girls started counting down the day until we would leave. We had decided that the best moment to pass through the Stones would be on the Summer Solstice. And so we counted the days and waited for Mr McMaster to send the copy of the letters. And we waited, and waited, and waited. By late May I was beginning to think the letters would never get on time and that we would miss our window of opportunity. That is until June 15th, 5 days before our set departure date.

Reggie had taken Mrs Graham, Roger and the girls on an outing by the Loch and I was doing some last minute check, making sure all the medicine I had “borrowed” from the Infirmary would fit in all the hidden pockets of my traveling clothes, counting all the vintage coins we had found in several antique boutiques, when someone rang the doorbell.

“Yes?” I said to the well dressed man standing on the doorstep.

“I have a parcel for Mrs Claire Fraser...”

Claire Fraser... I hadn’t been called that in what seemed like a lifetime ago...

“Yes... I mean... I am Claire Fraser.”

He handed me a large envelop before wishing me a nice day. The envelope was indeed addressed to me, but there was no return address. I slowly made my way to Reggie’s study and opened it. Inside were two sealed documents as well as what looked like antique bank statement from the Royal Bank of Scotland and three delicate necklaces with gemstones. In between those documents was a simple white envelope with one word, Madonna.

Ma chère Madonna,

You must have now deduced that Ray McMaster and the Paris apothecary you met a long time ago are one and the same.

You see, I have been watching you for years, Madonna. I first met you when you were a small child, pushed in a pram by your mother in an Oxford park. Your light, even at such a young age, shined a bright blue. Our second meeting happened shortly after your parents’ untimely death, when you were travelling to Egypt with your Uncle Lambert.

You see, Madonna, the Beauchamp are quite dear to me and I was tasked – or more likely I tasked myself – into looking after them through Time. Just like you, Madonna, I am a traveler. I have traveled for so long that I somehow forgot where and when I am from. But I have never forgotten my line. You are of my line, Madonna. You come from a long line of what now people call time traveler.

Your destiny was always to travel through the Stones of Craigh na Dun and to meet your Highlander. And it is my destiny to reunite you with him.

I was able to visit Versailles recently. Do not worry, Madonna, King Louis didn’t recognized me. Although for him 4 years had passed since our last encounter, for me it had been a couple of decades. After leaving Versailles I made a quick detour by Aix-la-Chapelle and met with the Duke of Cumberland. I was able to convince him of the innocence and the loyalty of both you and your Highlander. Quite the man, that Butcher of Culloden.

I know Reginald believe me to be an artist – a counterfeiter maybe – but as you can see I am simply a traveler. Don’t tell him that the Declaration of Arbroath I gave him a couple of years ago is actually one of the original copy. I don’t think he would survive the shock.

Aurevoir for now, Madonna, for I am sure we will meet again.

Raymond

PS. I almost forgot, you will also find bank papers allowing you to access an account at the Royal Bank of Scotland in Edinburgh back in the 18th Century. I opened it in 1727 in your name, hopefully the fund will allow you and your Highlander to live comfortably. – R

PPS. The gemstones necklaces should allow you to pass through the Stones and through time more easily. Opal for yourself and your Faith and topaz for your Brianna. – R

I didn’t realize I was crying until a tear fell on the letter, staining the paper. I didn’t know what to think about all that, but knowing Master Raymond had spent years furtively watching over me...

“Thank you...” I said before putting the precious documents away.

****

Before I even realized it, it was June 20th. We all went to bed quite early the previous night and got up a couple of hours before dawn. I took my time getting the girls ready before joining Reggie and Roger down in the kitchen for a light breakfast – I knew from experience that it was better to travel through the Stones on an empty stomach.

“Do ye really have to go, Auntie Claire?” asked Roger, eyes still red from having cried himself to sleep.

“I’m afraid we do, sweet boy... But I promise I will find a way to get word to you as soon as we can...”

The car ride was spent in silence and as we arrived at Craigh na Dun we were meet by Mrs Graham and some of her fellow Druids. Unlike for Beltane and Samhain, the Midsommer Druids Dance was done only by 3 dancers led by Mrs Graham.

“They are ready for ye, me dear...”

That’s when it hit me... I turned toward Reggie and Roger, hugging them as if my life depended on it, pressing kisses to the cheeks and tasting their salty tears. The girls too hugged them and kissed them goodbye, Brianna having to be pried from her grip on Roger’s neck.

We finally made the trek up the hill and the buzzing sent more tears to my daughters’ eyes. Arriving in front of the central stone, I took Brianna in my arms, balancing her on my hip, and held Faith’s little hand.

“Alright, girls... Now I want you to think about your father and brother... Think about them and about finally seeing them... I want you to count to three with me, and at three we will all touch the stone, alright?”

They both nodded.

“One... Two... Three!”

TBC

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ladycumhangabhainn · 7 years ago

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Reblog if you're still not over Matthew Crawley

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ladycumhangabhainn · 7 years ago

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One of my favorite AU!!!

Could we get another chapter of Fergus through the stones? I'm a huge fan of any fic with our wee Fergus!

The Tagalong - Part Nine

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight

Fergus hesitated to get out of the car. He had stayed over at the manse at least half a dozen times but then it had always just been the two of them, Roger and himself. They had slept in Roger’s bedroom flipping a coin to see who would take the bed and who got the cot on the floor.

This time there would be several other boys from school and Fergus wasn’t quite sure what to make of the prospect.

“He said we’d be camping,” Fergus explained to Claire as she eased the new car through the streets towards the manse.

Brianna gurgled in the strange basket on the seat beside Fergus. It was mostly stuffed with blankets and pillows to keep Brianna well cushioned when they went around corners. Fergus liked to drape his arm over the top to keep it in place as well and he knew Mother Claire relaxed when she looked into the mirror and saw him watching protectively over his little sister. Brianna found it great fun too pulling one of the blankets over her face and then laughing when Fergus pulled it off again. Her gummy grin brought a smile of pride to his face and he reached into the basket to tickle her cheek, setting off a riot of giggles.

“Is there something wrong with camping?” Claire asked when they stopped to let a trio of pedestrians cross.

“Camping is for armies or if you are traveling and cannot find a place to stay,” Fergus complained. “It is not something to be done when a proper bed is near. Why would anyone enjoy to sleep in the cold and the dirt and the mud?”

Claire was glad Fergus couldn’t see the full extent of her amusement from his seat in the back.

“Making camp is one of the things that’s different in this time––for the most part,” she tried to explain. “For one thing, most of the children have only had beds to sleep in. Even during the war, special care was taken to get the children to safe places. The beds may have been crowded and the rooms dar, but they were usually safe and warm too.”

“So they find the dirt and such interesting because it is different?” Fergus sounded less disbelieving and more fascinated. “Like when Bree wishes to play with the red ball instead of the blue even though they are the same.”

As though to underscore her agreement, Brianna screeched and pulled hard on Fergus’ arm, demanding his attention. He gave her his hand and she promptly pulled his fingers to her mouth so she could gnaw on his knuckles.

“Yes,” Claire concurred, turning her head to check the way was clear before easing through the intersection. “It’s a novelty. And they do some fun games and things too. Probably tell ghost stories and use a telescope to look at the stars.”

“Is this why I must bring something to give to Roger? To say my thanks for being asked and so we will have the games to play?”

“The present is for Roger’s birthday. It’s how they’re celebrated in this time. Friends and family have a party and the birthday person receives gifts.”

Fergus sighed and pulled his finger from Brianna’s mouth looking carefully at the skin to see if her new teeth had finally broken through and left a mark. They hadn’t so he wiped the drool from her chin as she blew bubbles. He gave her one of the strange toys to chew on. They were hard like wood at the core but had an odd and colorful coating on top of that, some material that didn’t chip or splinter and was soft enough not to hurt Bree when she bit down hard.

It was unlike anything he’d seen for children before but then there were many things about this time that were like that; sometimes it was more overwhelming than others and this was one of those times.

“How did you manage, Mother Claire?” he asked. “You lived for years in a time not belonging to you. I never would have known did I not follow you here. How is it you found your way so easy?”

She laughed. “It wasn’t easy and I did have help with most of it,” she remarked.

“Milord,” Fergus nodded looking down at Brianna. It was incredible how much the chubby-cheeked babe looked like her father. His eyes shone from her face and his hair gleamed on her crown… but her laugh was all her own.

Claire’s voice was somber as she responded, “Yes. I had Jamie. I didn’t tell him right away but he did know fairly early… And where I went backwards there’s the advantage of having some idea of what you’re going to find,” she added, moving on to the less painful side of the matter. “Even if you don’t study it specifically or know a lot you can’t help absorbing something of the past simply by living. It’s the future that leaves you blind… even then… trying to change things… I still don’t know if what we did had any impact one way or another…”

Fergus reached forward and rested a hand on her shoulder, snapping her from her reverie.

“You and Milord impacted me,” he assured her quietly. “And Bree. We would not be here.”

Claire smiled at Fergus in the rearview mirror and blinked back her tears before pulling to a stop and parking the car.

“Are you ready for Roger’s birthday party?”

Fergus stared out the window at the manse. There were two or three of the boys from his class saying goodbye to their parents, eager to move on to the fun and games ahead.

“Are all birthday parties like this?” he asked, his face scrunched with anticipatory disgust.

“Many are… but they don’t have to be. You can have whatever kind of birthday party you…” She stopped herself and looked carefully at Fergus. “Oh, darling…” she murmured.

“If this is what birthday parties are, I’m not sure I mind not having one,” he declared, quietly resolute.

“You don’t know when your birthday is,” Claire stated.

“Madame Elise sometimes said it was spring and that my disposition was sunny for that, but when I displeased her she would say it was my winter coming out.”

“March,” Claire said with some certainty, enough to draw Fergus’ attention to her. A smile crept across her face. “They say that March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb.”

A light lit Fergus’ face. “It was in March that Milord found me and brought me home to you.”

“Do you remember which day?”

Fergus puzzled for a moment before shrugging.

“Near to Easter, I think, but I cannot be sure was it the 23rd or the 24th.”

“Well, pick one and we’ll make that your birthday––the day you became a Fraser. We’ve overshot March by a few weeks now, but we’ll find a way to celebrate it; just the three of us if that’s all you want.”

Fergus grinned. “I will think which day I like. But now I must do the camping.” He stuck his head between the headrests to kiss Claire’s cheek.

“Wish me luck,” he said with resignation that made Claire laugh as the car door closed behind him and she watched him head for the door with Roger’s gift tucked under his arm.

When Claire returned the next morning to retrieve Fergus, she found him in much better spirits if a little tired.

“Have you had a change of heart about camping?” she asked with an amused smile.

“No, I still prefer a bed that is inside but I most definitely want to have a birthday party. The games were enjoyable––I was the most skilled at the game of picking up sticks and I showed everyone games for playing cards and won most of their sweets but when the Reverend and Mrs. Graham discovered this they made us stop and I had to return the candy,” Fergus rattled on as Claire negotiated the drive home. “I have decided I want my birthday to be the 24th and I want a present like the one Rabbie gave to Roger––they are shoes with wheels on the bottoms.”

“I take it you want some of the boys from school to come,” Claire guessed with a chuckle.

“Oui, I have already invited them.”

#My ask

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ladycumhangabhainn · 7 years ago

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Outlander Giveaway!!!

Season 3 is almost here! With the end of Droughtlander so near, I thought it would be fun to do a giveaway to celebrate and share the excitement.

PRIZES

One hand painted Print Shop t-shirt in the size of the winner’s choosing

One 8x10 hand drawn Print Shop poster

One 8x8 hand drawn Je Suis Prest poster

HOW TO ENTER

Each like, reblog, or reply counts as one entry

You can enter as many times as you like between now and the end of the day on August 25th

Anyone and everyone is eligible to win the posters, but you must be following me to be eligible for the t-shirt

Three winners will be randomly selected and contacted through tumblr messaging by August 27th. Once shipping details are sorted out, I’ll do my best to get the prizes sent so they arrive before the premiere.

So yeah, nothing fancy but hopefully this’ll be fun. Thanks everybody for being such a great bunch of people!!

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ladycumhangabhainn · 7 years ago

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#WelcomeToFanfiction #TheRulesOfFanfiction

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ladycumhangabhainn · 7 years ago

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Dans un autre monde - Part 9

Part 8 is available here

Author note: At long last here’s Part 9 of Dans un autre monde. I am so sorry for the delay in giving this new chapter, but I received some life changing news in the last couple of months. My mother who has been the epitome of health her whole life was diagnosed with breast cancer. Being as close as I am to her it obviously turned my world upside down. She is currently going through chemo and hopefully will get through this. But enough with that (or I’m gonna start crying again), I think you’ve been waiting long enough, right?

The awkwardness of that first Christmas at the rectory would be the last of my interaction with Frank, at least face to face. He quickly left Inverness before New Year and by April the Reverend told me he had moved to America, having been offered a position at Harvard in their History Department.

If I thought that knowing what I was looking for would make the search easier, I was greatly mistaken. The Reverend hadn’t been jesting when he said the Scottish lawyers of the era had petitioned for everything and anything. It was six months into my inquest that I realized how unhealthy it was to spend all my spare moments searching through endless papers. And so with the help of Mrs Graham and her friend Aileen I took a part time position as a triage nurse at the new A&E at the Infirmary. So during my shifts either Mrs Graham or her daughter-in-law would watch over Brianna while Faith was enrolled at the nearby nursery school. I had expected my eldest daughter to suffer from separation anxiety and throw one of her famous Fraser temper tantrum when I dropped her off on her first day, but she simply hugged me and went running to the other children, barely turning back to say “bye mama”. I spent several hours warily wandering the nearby streets pushing Brianna’s pram until it was time to pick Faith up. And instead of a teary daughter waiting for me at the end of the day, I was met by a cheerful one.

“Mama! Me made fwiends!”

By Brianna’s first birthday, I was beginning to think it would take twenty years before I could find proof that Jamie was the Dun Bonnet. That is until a couple of weeks before Christmas, when we received a new batch of documents from the Reverend’s friend at the National Archives. For the first time since I started helping the Reverend with his search I found several names I recognized and knew.

It was a document dating from 1747 regarding the Oath to the King taken by a young Laird, barely 12 years of age, a young Laird named Hamish MacKenzie. The document had been witnessed by his mother, Letitia MacKenzie, and Edward Gowan, a lawyer from Edinburgh. Ned... Of course, Ned was the key to this search! Any documents I would have gathered to exonerate Jamie would have to be presented to the authorities by a lawyer. And there was only one lawyer I trusted back in the 18th century, Ned Gowan.

“Reggie, I think I might have a lead...”

“A lead, ye say?”

“You said the Dun Bonnet was a Highlander Laird, right?”

He nodded, setting his cup of tea on a nearby table that wasn’t nearly collapsing under the weight of several books.

“Look at this document, it’s the Oath to the King taken by the young Laird of Clan MacKenzie upon his twelfth birthday. See the name of the witness, Edward Gowan? His name comes back in several other documents pertaining to different other Highlands Clans. From what I gathered this Mister Gowan was a lawyer settled in Edinburgh, but who worked mainly as some sort of traveling solicitor. He seemed to have been highly regarded throughout the Highlands...”

He took the document, careful even if it was a copy.

“Gowan, ye say? Yes... I remember seeing that name more than once... Ye really think he might be the key to our search?”

“I think so... Do you think your friend at the Archives could send us every document they might have connected to this Mister Gowan?”

He frowned. “It might take a while, me dear...”

And a while it took. Winter made way to spring and by midsummer we still hadn’t received anything from London. By the end of July I decided to use my vacation times from the hospital and treat the girls to a short trip. We spent a couple of days on the beaches of Aberdeen and, upon our return to Inverness, were welcome by several boxes filling the living room of the rectory.

“Claire! At last, ye are here! They’re here, me dear!”

“The documents from the Archives? Reggie, you should have phoned me!”

“Nonsense, me dear! Ye and yer girls needed that short holiday.”

And so began the real search. Mrs Graham and her daughter-in-law were kind enough to entertain Roger, Faith and Brianna while the Reverend and I spent all our spare time buried in 200 years old paperwork.

It was strange, searching those papers and finding the names of people I knew, people I had met. Each time I would get emotional, fighting tears that were begging to be shed. But there were also times where I was nearly gleeful at the suffering of people I hated, people who had made my life a living hell. I have no shame to say I was glad when I found the Order of Execution of Simon Fraser, Lord Lovat.

The breakthrough in the search came one Saturday in August. Mrs Graham was busying herself in the kitchen, preparing for the Parish annual baking sale, while the Reverend was working on his sermon in his study. Mrs Graham-the-younger, the senior Mrs Graham’s daughter-in-law, had taken Roger and the girls for a picnic in the countryside, allowing me some time to go through the ton of paperwork.

At first glance it was yet again another official looking document. At first glance... I nearly set it aside until I realized it was written in French.

“Nous, Louis, par la grâce de Dieu, roi de France et de Navarre…”

I couldn’t believe what I was reading and it took me a while to fully translate it. And once I did I knew that I had found part of the proof I was looking for.

“We, Louis, by the grace of God, king of France and Navarre, declare that on the fifth day of December in the year of our Lord seventeen hundred and forty-four, after having negotiated with an emissary of his Majesty King George of Great Britain, We delivered to James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser, Laird of Broch Tuarach of Scotland, a full pardon from the British authority. Thus Laird Broch Tuarach took leave from Us and from the Kingdom of France in order to return to his estate...”

Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ! This proved that Jamie couldn’t have signed Prince Charles list of Highland Lairds supporters and that his signature had been forged! But this must not be all... There must be more... And so I went through the whole box and at the very bottom of it laid two pieces of papers that left me breathless and teary eyed. The first was a letter from the Duke of Cumberland to William Grant, Lord Advocate of Scotland.

“... It has come to our attention that James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser, Laird of Broch Tuarach in Scotland, has been branded a traitor to the Crown and has been since wanted by the authorities to answer for his supposed crimes during the failed rebellion... Laird Broch Tuarach approached Fort William’s garrison commander, Captain Jonathan Wolverton Randall, Esq., in the early months of Seventeen Hundred and Forty-Four with the intention of infiltrating the Jacobite movement... Laird Broch Tuarach gained access to Charles Edward Stuart while sojourning in France... Returned to Scotland in the early days of Seventeen Hundred and Forty-Five... Took command under Charles Edward Stuart while reporting the Jacobites’ advances to Captain Randall who acted as his liaison... Captain Randall perished at the Battle of Culloden... Laird Broch Tuarach survived... We command that the good name of Laird Broch Tuarach be reinstate and that all his lands and holdings be returned to him...”

The second was a copy of an official proclamation probably sent to all Scottish garrisons regarding the innocence of one James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser, Laird Broch Tuarach...

I don’t know how long I spent staring at those documents... Time seemed to freeze as I felt my vision blurred by unshed tears.

“Claire?”

I jumped, the Reverend and Mrs Graham were standing in front of me, worried looks plastered on their faces.

“Claire... Are ye alright, me dear? See, Mrs Graham, I told ye she’s not responding...”

“Reverend, why don’t ye go and get us something to drink. I think our Claire could really use a dram of scotch.”

The Reverend frowned before sighing and heading to his study to get the scotch.

“Claire, dear, ye look as if someone walked on yer grave!”

“I... I found him, Mrs Graham. I found the Dun Bonnet and...”

“Ye found him? Well, why didnae ye tell the Reverend? He’ll be the happiest man on...”

“The Dun Bonnet is Jamie, Mrs Graham!”

“What... But... How...”

I told her about my suspicions once I heard the legend of the Dun Bonnet, how it felt as if Reggie was telling Jamie’s story.

“And now I have proofs! Proofs that not only the Dun Bonnet is real, but that it’s Jamie! Jamie survived, Mrs Graham, and according to the legend...”

“According to the legend, his lady wife is the one who cleared his name... Claire... Ye have to tell the Reverend, ye have to tell him everything! How ye went through the Stones, how ye found yerself in the past...”

“Reggie won’t believe me...”

“What will I won’t believe?” asked the Reverend, holding a decanter and three glasses.

I took a deep breath, thinking about how I could probably tell the Reverend...

“Reggie... Do you know the song The Woman of Balnain?”

“Aye, it is an old folk song... About a woman taken by the fairies, I think, and traveled to a faraway land to live among strangers...”

Mrs Graham squeezed my hand. “Go ahead, Claire. Tell him.”

“What if I told you that I was the woman of Balnain... Back in 1945, I went to Craigh na Dun and upon touching the largest Stone I was transported to 1743. I lived among strangers, married one of them, fell in love with him, bear his daughter...”

I couldn’t decipher his expression. Did he think me mad?

“You don’t believe me...”

“What ye are telling me, Claire... Well, it is quite a tale... Fairy hill, time traveling through the Stones... Ye are right to think anybody wouldn’t believe ye, but I’m nae anybody, me dear. I’m a Scot. I was raised with stories of fairies and people disappearing, of the magic surrounding Craigh na Dun, though most of me life I thought them to be old wives’ tales. But I do believe ye, me dear Claire.”

I bursted in tears and threw myself at him, hugging him.

“Thank you, Reggie. Thank you for believing me!”

“Ye don’t need to thank me... Although ye could have told me sooner, me dear. Two years is a long time to keep such a secret and from what I can see ye had already told Mrs Graham... I feel quite left off...”

I laughed through my tears.

“Now... Will ye tell me what got ye so emotional earlier? I ken you didnae tell me yer secret for nothing...”

I carefully handed him the letter from King Louis, the one from the Duke of Cumberland and the proclamation.

“I found the Dun Bonnet, Reggie.”

“Ye... ye did?! Claire, it’s...”

He swiftly read the documents and for a moment he looked like a giddy schoolboy.

“That name... James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser... Yer lassies’ father?”

I nodded, not trusting my own voice.

“Will ye tell me yer story, Claire? Yer whole story, from the beginning?”

“I’ll leave ye two to it” said Mrs Graham with a smile. “I’ve already heard it and I still have some baking to do...”

And so I told the Reverend everything, starting with my first encounter with Jack Randall and subsequent saving by Murtagh. He didn’t stop me once to ask questions, but I could feel he was enthralled by my tale. For an avid historian like him, especially one interested by the Jacobites era, this was heaven for him. I was coming to the end of my story, how Jamie had gotten me and Faith to Craigh na Dun when the entrance door came bursting open and the sound of Faith, Brianna and Roger’s crying filled the Rectory.

“Mama!” shouted my youngest.

“Bree, darling, what’s the matter?”

“Roger, lad, why are ye all crying?”

“Reverend, Miss Beauchamp, I think yer lad and lassies might have some ear infection... We were having a picnic, then they started complaining about their ears...”

“Mama, they scweamed!” sobbed Faith. “They were so loud, mama!”

I frowned. “What was so loud? Roger, what is she talking about?”

“The sound, auntie Claire, the sound was awful!”

Sound? Screams?

“Where did you say you went on your picnic?”

“Just outside the city, Miss Beauchamp. Near this hill, Craigh na Dun.”

TBC

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ladycumhangabhainn · 8 years ago

Conversation

Everytime there's a movie with Dan Stevens

Me: this what Matthew Crawley died for

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ladycumhangabhainn · 8 years ago

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“To Kill a Mockingbird” by Harper Lee

“Pride and Prejudice” by Jane Austen

“The Diary of Anne Frank” by Anne Frank

“1984” by George Orwell

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone" by J.K. Rowling

“The Lord of the Rings” (1-3) by J.R.R. Tolkien

“The Great Gatsby” by F. Scott Fitzgerald

“Charlotte’s Web” by E.B. White

“The Hobbit” by J.R.R. Tolkien

“Little Women” by Louisa May Alcott

“Fahrenheit 451” by Ray Bradbury

“Jane Eyre” by Charlotte Bronte

“Animal Farm” by George Orwell

“Gone with the Wind” by Margaret Mitchell

“The Catcher in the Rye” by J.D. Salinger

“The Book Thief” by Markus Zusak

“The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn” by Mark Twain

“The Hunger Games” by Suzanne Collins

“The Help” by Kathryn Stockett

“The Lion, the Witch, and the Wadrobe” by C.S. Lewis

“The Grapes of Wrath” by John Steinbeck

“The Lord of the Flies” by William Golding

“The Kite Runner” by Khaled Hosseini

“Night” by Elie Wiesel

“Hamlet” by William Shakespeare

“A Wrinkle in Time” by Madeleine L'Engle

“Of Mice and Men” by John Steinbeck

“A Tale of Two Cities” by Charles Dickens

“Romeo and Juliet” by William Shakespeare

“The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy” by Douglas Adams

“The Secret Garden” by Frances Hodgson Burnett

“A Christmas Carol” by Charles Dickens

“The Little Prince” by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

“Brave New World” by Aldous Huxley

“Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows” by J.K. Rowling

“The Giver” by Lois Lowry

“The Handmaid’s Tale” by Margaret Atwood

“Where the Sidewalk Ends” by Shel Silverstein

“Wuthering Heights” Emily Bronte

“The Fault in Our Stars” by John Green

“Anne of Green Gables” by L.M. Montgomery

“The Adventures of Tom Sawyer” by Mark Twain

“Macbeth” by William Shakespeare

“The Girl with a Dragon Tattoo” by Stieg Larrson

“Frankenstein” by Mary Shelley

“The Holy Bible: King James Version”

“The Color Purple” by Alice Walker

“The Count of Monte Cristo” by Alexandre Dumas

“A Tree Grows in Brooklyn” by Betty Smith

“East of Eden” by John Steinbeck

“Alice in Wonderland” by Lewis Carroll

“In Cold Blood” by Truman Capote

“Catch-22” by Joseph Heller

“The Stand” by Stephen King

“Outlander” by Diana Gabaldon

“Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban” by J.K. Rowling

“Enders Game” by Orson Scott Card

“Anna Karenina” by Leo Tolstoy

“Watership Down” by Richard Adams

“Memoirs of a Geisha” by Arthur Golden

“Rebecca” by Daphne du Maurier

“A Game of Thrones” by George R.R. Martin

“Great Expectations” by Charles Dickens

“The Old Man and the Sea” by Ernest Hemingway

“The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes” (#3) by Arthur Conan Doyle

“Les Misérables” by Victor Hugo

“Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince” by J.K. Rowling

“Life of Pi” by Yann Martel

“The Scarlet Letter” by Nathaniel Hawthorne

“Celebrating Silence: Excerpts from Five Years of Weekly Knowledge” by Sri Sri Ravi Shankar

“The Chronicles of Narnia” by C.S. Lewis

“The Pillars of the Earth” by Ken Follett

“Catching Fire” by Suzanne Collins

“Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” by Roald Dahl

“Dracula” by Bram Stoker

“The Princess Bride” by William Goldman

“Water for Elephants” by Sara Gruen

“The Raven” by Edgar Allan Poe

“The Secret Life of Bees” by Sue Monk Kidd

“The Poisonwood Bible: A Novel” by Barbara Kingsolver

“One Hundred Years of Solitude” by Gabriel García Márquez

“The Time Traveler’s Wife” by Audrey Niffenegger

“The Odyssey” by Homer

“The Good Earth (House of Earth #1)” by Pearl S. Buck

“Mockingjay (Hunger Games #3)” by Suzanne Collins

“And Then There Were None” by Agatha Christie

“The Thorn Birds” by Colleen McCullough

“A Prayer for Owen Meany” by John Irving

“The Glass Castle” by Jeannette Walls

“The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks” by Rebecca Skloot

“Crime and Punishment” by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

“The Road” by Cormac McCarthy

“The Things They Carried” by Tim O'Brien

“Siddhartha” by Hermann Hesse

“Beloved” by Toni Morrison

“Slaughterhouse-Five” by Kurt Vonnegut

“Cutting For Stone” by Abraham Verghese

“The Phantom Tollbooth” by Norton Juster

“The Brothers Karamazov” by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

“The Story of My Life” by Helen Keller

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ladycumhangabhainn · 8 years ago

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I’m taking a minute to talk to you about my hometown, my beautiful Quebec City. I was born and raised in this amazing town, one of the oldest european settlement in North America. A beautiful North American town where you can taste a bit of Europe. For nearly 409 years Quebec City has been a peaceful town. I remember someone once told me that we had the same street crime level as Disney World. But last night... last night it all changed. I never thought the words “terror attack” would ever be associated with my hometown, but now it is. Last night, two men - two young men, students at the local Université - went into a Mosquée during the evening prayer and open fire and killed. 6 men were killed by gunfire last night, that’s more than my peaceful hometown had in the last 10 years combined! I always felt safe growing up in Quebec City and I’ve always been so proud of being from there. I’m still proud of being from Quebec City, but I’m feeling a little less safe...

#MyHometown #QuebecCity #TerrorAttack #QuebecCityShooting #MosqueShooting

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ladycumhangabhainn · 8 years ago

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Dans un autre monde - Part 8

Part 7 is available here

Roger’s theatrical debut ended up being a grand success. It seemed like he caught the acting bug and was already planning his next performance.

“Next year, I want to be one of the Wise Men. And Faith could be one of the angels! Father, do ye think Faith could be in the Nativity Play? Even if she’s not a Presbyterian?”

The Reverend was sitting in front of the fireplace, cradling a now slumbering Brianna.

“Well since she is family to us, I don’t see why she couldn’t take part.”

The answer seemed to be enough for the young boy. We were all sitting in the large living room of the rectory having just came back home. Roger sitting on the floor while Faith and I were curled on the settee, my daughter wrapped in the Fraser plaid that had travelled with us through the Stones, tucking Sawny close to her cheek. Frank was seated opposite to the Reverend in one of the plush armchair, nursing a glass of Scotch.

We had come to some sort of truce, Frank and I. We weren’t ignoring each other, but the less we interacted with each other, the better.

“Father, can ye tell us a story?”

“And which story would ye like to hear, son? A Visit From St. Nicholas, maybe? Or a chapter from A Christmas Carol?”

“Ye promised to tell Mistress Claire the story of the Dun Bonnet, father!”

“Ye are right, Roger, I did... So... Our story begins before the Rising of ’45. The Dun Bonnet was a fair and much loved Highlander Laird. Nae only was he loved by his kinsmen, but he loved them in return and cared for them. While many of his fellow Lairds were hoping for the return of a Stuart on the throne, the Dun Bonnet only wanted the wellbeing of his people. He never swore allegiance to either the House of Stuart or the House of Hanover.”

I closed my eyes and suddenly I was back 200 years ago... I had spent many nights sitting just like this, listening to glorious stories of the past...

“One day, the Dun Bonnet received a vision. A vision of a failed Rising, of his kinsmen dead on the moor of Culloden in April of 1746... He knew of several Lairds collecting money for the restoration of the Stuarts, for the Bonnie Prince, and in that moment he knew that such an enterprise would be doomed. His vision had also shown him the aftermath of it all, the Highland Clearances, the wiping of the Highland culture. And so he did his best to prevent it. Unfortunately his efforts were for naught and the Bonnie Prince was able to collect enough to fund his rebellion. Any other men would have given hope, but not the Dun Bonnet. His vision had told him that the Rising would end at Culloden Moor and so he was determined to stop it before that and with as little casualty as possible. In order to do so he did something he had never done before, he swore allegiance. He swore allegiance to the House of Hanover and became a spy for them. He infiltrated the Bonnie Prince’s entourage, gained his trust and friendship, became one of his most trusted advisors, all the while trying to stop him and reporting everything to the English. But April 16th 1746 came and the Dun Bonnet had to admit that he had failed to stop the Bonnie Prince’s madness. He saved as many of his men as he could, but was severely wounded as they escaped the butchery. His kinsmen brought him back to his estate, to his family, wanting him to be surrounded by his loved one before he met his Maker. But...”

“But he didnae die, right father?”

The Reverend nodded. “He didnae die. But he had been labelled a traitor by the English. His family, who had kent of his arrangement with them to spy on the Bonnie Prince, tried to get his name cleared of the charge, but they had no proof of it. The officer who had served as his contact had been one of the few English casualties and with him all proofs of the Dun Bonnet’s actions were lost.”

The story seemed so familiar. Like I had heard it before... No, I hadn’t heard it, I had lived it, for heaven’s sake! It was Jamie’s story, albeit with some changes, but weren’t all legend changed from the original story?

“What happened to him?” I asked in a whisper. “Did he escape Scotland? Did he go into hiding?”

“Aye, his kinsmen hid him in a cave, protected him from the Redcoats who were wandering the Highlands in the following years. Whenever he left his cave, he would wear a bonnet on his head, to hide his identity, thus the name the Dun Bonnet.”

“But were they able to prove his innocence? Did he spend the rest of his days hiding away in a cave?”

I had to know! If somehow Jamie had survived, if there was a chance...

“The Dun Bonnet had quite the Lady wife. She went all the way to London and gained an audience with none other than the Duke of Cumberland. When she finally came back to Scotland it was with a letter from the Duke himself proclaiming her husband’s innocence and his efforts to stop the Bonnie Prince.”

“And they lived happily ever after, right father?”

“I wouldn’t say happily ever after, Roger. It is nae a fairy tale. But yes, the Dun Bonnet, his Lady wife and his kinsmen were able to live in peace once again.”

I quickly wiped away the tears I had shed, hoping neither the Reverend, Roger or – God help me – Frank had seen them.

“Do we know the name of this Dun Bonnet? To which clan he belonged?”

“They don’t know his name because the Dun Bonnet’s tale is just that, a tale” stated Frank with a sigh. “Reggie, you’ve been searching this nameless Laird for years and you haven’t found anything! If he had existed don’t you think his family, his clan, would have boasted about it?”

“The Scots may be boastful sometime, but they protect their own” I said. “I think they were boasting enough. I mean, if the Dun Bonnet’s story has survive more than two hundred years...”

“And how would you know that?” he asked.

“I’ve spent nearly three years surrounded by the most boastful bunch of Scots you could ever meet, Frank. I know.”

Memories of Angus and Rupert, poor Angus and poor Rupert... Dead for what? For the impossible dream of a foolish, egotistical coward?

Much later, when Roger, Faith and Brianna were put to bed, I decided to question the Reverend more about this Dun Bonnet and his research to uncover his identity.

“You’ve been researching this Dun Bonnet for how many years, Reggie?”

“Nearly all me life, Claire!”

“Then how come it’s the first time I hear about it?”

He smiled. “Me search is more a hobby... Before Roger came to live here, all my spare times were spent searching for the Dun Bonnet.”

“Well... I’m in need of a hobby myself” I said. “I thought of going back to nursing, but with a newborn it might not be the best idea. And Mrs Graham told me about a nice nursery school nearby... I know that Faith is still a little young, but you and I both know that she’s quite ahead for her age. In the meantime I could maybe help you with your research...”

“Ye would? That would be amazing, me dear Claire! A friend of mine down at the National Archives has been sending copies of documents pertaining to the aftermath of the Rising... Honestly there are so many of them! The Scottish lawyers of this era seemed to have come with a rather efficient way to stall things up. They petitioned the government for pretty much everything!”

“All right, then. How about we start our search on Boxing Day?”

His only answer was to kiss my cheek and squeeze my hand.

“Good night, Reggie...”

I was left alone in the living room of the rectory. My thoughts drifted back to Jamie... My Jamie...

“I will find you, Jamie... And we will get back to you, I promise.”

Part 9 is available here

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ladycumhangabhainn · 8 years ago

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Dans un autre monde - Part 7

Part 6 is available here

Author note: I know it’s been a long time, but I’ve just came back from the trip of my lifetime AKA my vacation in Scotland! So that’s my excuse for the lateness in giving you this new chapter. So without further ado, enjoy!

The first contractions hit me as I was getting ready for bed on the night of November 22nd. I had expected this labour to be as quick and swift as Faith’s had been, but by 7AM my water still hadn’t broke and the contractions were getting stronger and closer. I waited until Mrs Graham came in the morning before asking the Reverend to drive me to the Infirmary.

I barely remembered Faith’s birth, apart from the pain and then it was all washed away by the joy of being handed my newborn child by Mother Hildegarde. I expected this labour to be as hard and painful as my first one and before they showed me to my room I said a silent prayer for my safety and my unborn child’s.

And painful it was... For nearly 5 hours I pushed, for nearly 5 hours I cursed the day I allowed Jamie Fraser to touch me... I was nearly at the end of my rope, completely exhausted when, just after 12:15, I was finally delivered of my pain to utter quietness.

“Is he alright?” I asked. “Tell me, is my son alright? Why isn’t he crying?”

“It’s nae a lad, Miss Beauchamps, but a wee lassie!” said the nurse before disappearing to a corner of the room with my baby.

Another daughter!

“But why isn’t she crying?!”

“She’s born with the caul, Miss Beauchamps” explained Doctor Beaton.

Second later I let out a sigh at the loud sound of my angry newborn daughter.

“They say that being born with the caul is a good omen, Miss Beauchamps” said the nurse as she handed me my swaddled daughter. “Here’s yer wee beauty...”

And beautiful she was, just like her older sister. A tuff of red hair covered her tiny head and I hoped that unlike Faith it would stay that colour. I counted each and every one of her fingers and toes, studied her featured... Perfect, she was perfect. Jamie and I had done it again; we had created once more the most perfect little creature the world had ever seen.

“I promise to tell you everything about your father, little one. About the sacrifices he made so you could live...”

Later that evening, Mrs Graham brought a pyjama clad Faith to meet her new sibling.

“Mama?” she asked, big fat tears staining her face.

“The poor wee lamb spent the day crying for ye, me dear.”

“Crying? Darling, why...”

“Mama gone! Mama gone like Da and Fewgus!”

“Oh, my darling... Mama isn’t gone. Look, come and meet your little sister!”

She just shook her head vehemently. “Baby not lilla sistaw. Me Fewgus’ lilla sistaw!”

“Oh, Faith... Come sit by Mama...”

Mrs Graham helped her up to the bed and my darling little girl pouted never looking me in the eyes.

“Look at Mama, Faith... Good. You will always be Fergus’ little sister, Faith. That’s not going to change, but you are also Brianna’s big sister now just like Fergus is your big brother. Do you remember what Fergus did with you?”

She took a deep breath, her little body shaking as she fought a sob.

“Fewgus nice, he sang, he played, he taught...”

“Yes, Fergus was nice to you, he sang you comptines, he played with you and he taught you a lot of things...”

I was hit back by memories of Fergus helping Faith learn to walk in the dining room of Lallybroch, of him teaching her her first words – mama and da.

“And now you’ll have to do all that for Brianna because you are her big sister.”

“Me Bweenana’s big sistaw?”

I smiled. Brianna’s name would prove to be quite a challenge to pronounce for Faith.

“Yes, you are Brianna’s big sister...”

Her little hand stroke Brianna’s soft cheek before kissing her sister’s tiny forehead.

“Mine! My baby, wight Mama?”

I smiled. In that moment she was so like her father, taking ownership of the people under her care.

“Yes, darling. Brianna is your baby sister.”

She smiled back before softly humming one of the many comptines Fergus taught her.

A week later, Brianna Ellen Fiona Fraser was christened at St Mary’s Catholic Church with the Reverend and Mrs Graham acting as her godparents. Luckily the parish’ priest was a friend of the Reverend who didn’t mind christening the child of an unwed divorcée whose godparents were two Presbyterians. His open mindedness didn’t make me miss Father Bain one bit.

Brianna proved to be, just like her sister, an easy baby – except for when she was hungry then all hell broke loose! It was in those moments that I missed Jamie... He was a very hands on father, had been with both Faith and Fergus, getting up in the middle of the night to tend to our colicky daughter or our frightened little boy when he had been plagued with night terrors following his encounter with Black Jack Randall. It was a shame Brianna wouldn’t get to experience the joy of having her father putting her to sleep, softly talking in Gàidhlig, telling her the tales of Frasers past... Would he had called her his mo beag nighean ruadh – his little red haired lass, as he had called Faith his mo beag nighean donn – his little brown haired lass?

And so here we were, a month after Brianna’s birth. The Reverend, Mrs Graham and Roger had left earlier for the parish’s Nativity Play’s rehearsal where Roger was going to play one of the shepherds. Faith was playing in one of the corner of the living room with her new baby doll and little crib – a birthday present from the Reverend to prepare her for her new role as a big sister. I had just finished feeding Brianna who was in a milk coma when the doorbell rang. I frowned since we weren’t expecting any visitors... Faith forgot all about her doll and ran to the door.

“Faith Fraser! What have I told you about running in the house?”

She pouted, her little teeth biting into her lower lip. “No running...”

“Yes, no running, and you do not answer the door without mama. Here, keep an eye on your sister while I go see who’s at the door...”

I put Brianna in her bassinet under the careful watch of her older sister and went to open the front door.

“Claire?!”

For a second I forgot to breath and simply stared at him.

“Frank... What... What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question...”

I didn’t like his tone one bit.

“I live here, Frank! You didn’t leave me much of a choice since you didn’t release my inheritance from Uncle Lamb until after the divorce was pronounced. The Reverend was kind enough to open his door to me...”

I knew I was hard on him, but so had he been with me. If the Reverend hadn’t helped Faith and I after our release from the Infirmary, I don’t know what I would have done...

“So, you now know the reason why I’m here... What about you, Frank? Reggie never said anything about you coming here or I would have made sure not to be here...”

“He doesn’t know, I... I spent the last three Christmases with him so I...”

I simply nodded, understanding. I had forgotten how Frank was such a creature of habits.

“The Reverend, Roger and Mrs Graham are at the church... It’s the Nativity Play’s rehearsal, but they should be back shortly. Can I offer you a cup of tea?”

Before he could answer I felt two arms circle my legs from behind. I looked down and Faith was peeking at our visitor.

“Me Faith Fwasew” she said shyly. “Who you?”

Frank gulped, uncomfortable. He had never felt at ease around children.

“That’s Mr Randall, darling. He’s mama’s...”

How could I explain our former relationship to my 2 years old?

“He’s mama’s friend. Can you say hello?”

She nodded. “Hi.”

An awkward silence settled between the three of us that was interrupted by the soft meowling of Brianna letting me know she was done with her nap.

“Excuse me...”

Before I could even reach the bassinet, Faith was already putting the pacifier back into her sister’s mouth and was softly patting her tummy, singing for her.

“Fwère Jacques, Fwères Jacques, dowmez-vous? Dowmez-vous? Sonnez les matines! Sonnez les matines! Ding, dang, dong… “

Having put her baby sister back to sleep, my big girl looked up at me proudly.

“Me good sistaw, wight mama?”

“Yes, darling. You are a very good sister.”

I took a deep breath and turned to face Frank. Once upon a time I had been an expert at deciphering his many expressions, but tonight... Tonight I couldn’t tell.

“You... You were...”

“I was pregnant? Yes. Brianna was born a month ago.”

“You should have told me! I would have...”

“You would have what, Frank? You would have given me my inheritance from Uncle Lamb sooner? Why would you have done that? You already knew I had a child to care for, but that didn’t stop you from keeping it from me. And I didn’t tell you because it didn’t concern you!”

“Didn’t concern me?! Claire you are my wife!”

“Was your wife, Frank!”

I regretted my outburst almost immediately when both Faith and Brianna burst in tears. I quickly grabbed both daughters in my arms, soothing them when the door opened and Roger came barrelling in the living room.

“Mistress Claire! Father told us the most amazing story ‘bout the Dun Bonnet!”

“Claire, whose car is it...” started the Reverend before he spotted our visitor. “Frank... We were nae expecting ye.”

“Yes... I can see that...”

I took this as my cue to retire for the night. I never wanted to come in between the Reverend and Frank, to force Reggie to choose between his friendship with Frank and me.

“Mistress Claire, dinnae ye want to hear the story of the Dun Bonnet?” asked Roger, completely unaware of the tension between the adults.

“How about you tell me the story another day? It’s getting late and we have a big day tomorrow. Faith, Brianna and I need to be well rested if we want to watch you in the Nativity play.”

“Ye are really going to come? Even if ye are nae a Presbyterian?”

“Of course, Roger! We wouldn’t miss your big debut! We will be in the front row, won’t we Faith?”

“Aye! Me an Bweenana clap fo’ Rwogaw!”

I settled Brianna in the crook of my arms and took Faith tiny hands in mine and made my way to the stairs before being stopped by the Reverend.

“Dear, I can ask him to find other lodging if it makes ye uncomfortable...”

“Don’t... If someone should find other lodging it would be me.”

“Claire...”

I smiled. “But I know you would never allow it and neither would Mrs Graham. Let him stay here for the holiday. He was your friend before I was yours...”

“You ken that’s nae how... Frank might be me friend, but ye and yer bairns are family to me and Roger!”

I felt tears threatening to spill from my eyes.

“And so are you, my dear Reggie. Goodnight...”

Part 8 is available here

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