Chapter Text
Fergus and Brianna hung back with the cart while Claire stalked up the front steps. The door opened before she could knock and the doorman in his perfectly tailored and ironed livery took a long moment to look her up and down (taking in her dusty and wrinkled, travel-worn clothes) before asking, “How may I be of service?”
“I would like to see Lord and Lady Dunsany, please,” she replied, holding her head high and remembering the way she had carried herself in Paris when her social circle had included French royalty and she’d dined at Versailles.
The doorman’s eyes narrowed as he assessed her again after hearing her accent and having more time to take in her bearing.
“Whom shall I tell them is calling and to what is the visit in reference?”
What was the name Jamie had written to Jenny he used here? Not Malcolm but Mackenzie.
“I am Mrs. Mackenzie and I have come to see my husband,” she told him. She hoped she’d successfully infused more confidence into her statement than she felt.
But whatever doubt her attitude had inspired in the doorman evaporated when he heard her name.
“Your husband is in the fields about his work. If you need to see him then you should go round to the servants’ entrance and wait for him in the kitchens,” the doorman dismissed her.
She reached out and blocked him closing the door on her. “I have matters to discuss with Lord and Lady Dunsany concerning my husband’s position here and I will see them about it first,” she insisted. “Please let them know that I am come. My children and I can wait here in the entry while you inform your master of our presence.”
The doorman looked past Claire, finally taking not of Fergus and Brianna that short distance away. As though he’d heard her mention them, Fergus urged Brianna toward the door.
Resigned, he held the door open for them gave Claire a warning glare before stalking off to the sitting room to explain their arrival.
“It is a nice house, Milady,” Fergus whispered, assessing their surroundings.
“Keep your hands to yourself,” Claire ordered the still-sometimes pickpocket. “You two will stay here until you’re sent for.”
“And what are you going to say to them, Mama?” Brianna asked, clearly nervous.
“I’m not entirely sure yet but I suppose I’ll figure it out when I say it.” The doorman reappeared and with a begrudging expression indicated for Claire to follow.
Claire wiped her hands on her skirts as she walked and did her best to flatten the wrinkles before realizing it was probably the wild curls that had broken loose that would raise the most eyebrows in that sitting room. But there was no mirror to stop in front of and the doorman wasn’t about to slow down.
“Mrs. Mackenzie,” he announced as he stood holding the door open.
Claire bowed her head to the gentleman standing before her. A young woman was seated beside him, her eyes fixed on Claire and her expression somewhere between amused and confused.
“Mrs. Mackenzie.” Lord Dunsany’s greeting wasn’t warm but neither was it impolite. “You’ve caught us by surprise, I’m afraid. My wife and younger daughter are out of the house at the moment. This is Geneva, my elder daughter.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” Claire said with an apologetic smile. “And I do apologize for arriving unannounced like this. We’ve traveled a great distance and weren’t entirely certain of the way.”
“Mackenzie never told us he was married,” Geneva remarked. “Or rather… No, I believe he said his wife had died.”
Claire hoped the heat in her cheeks wasn’t showing.
“It’s not altogether surprising he should think I was dead. For the better part of the last ten years I was led to believe he was dead. Having finally discovered the truth and traced where he was—you can understand my haste in coming at once.”
“Indeed,” Lord Dunsany muttered, his mind obviously churning through the problem of how best to handle the situation. “Geneva. Please go to the kitchen and have Cook put together a plate of something for Mrs. Mackenzie. I’m sure she is hungry after her journey. Oh, my man said you had children with you?”
“Yes. Our son is grown and our daughter is going to be eleven.”
“Have something done for them as well. And have Richards send for Mackenzie,” Lord Dunsany finished his direction.
Geneva bristled at being so obviously dismissed but smiled at her father. “Of course. I won’t be long. Don’t burn through all the best conversation without me.”
Once she was out of the room, Lord Dunsany relaxed. “If you are using the name Mackenzie, I presume you are aware of the terms under which your husband is groom here, Mrs. Fraser.”
“That he is here under strict parole? Yes, I am aware.”
“And what is it you plan to do now you are come? Do you expect me to take you into my house as well until the Crown sees fit to release him? I am running an estate, not a charity,” he continued.
“I… hadn’t quite thought that far,” Claire confessed. “Seeing him and… making sure it really is him and he really is alive after all… that’s about as far as my plan went.”
Lord Dunsany let out an amused snort at that.
“I wouldn’t expect you to let us stay here out of charity, by the way,” Claire informed him. “If you agreed to let us stay, I would find some way to pay our way. And as I said, our son is grown and he is here now primarily as an escort so my daughter and I weren’t forced to travel alone.”
“The only sensible thing to do. It would be indecent for you to travel any great distance without protection.”
Claire nearly choked on a laugh as she wondered what Lord Dunsany would say about just how far she and Brianna had traveled before ever setting out from Lallybroch for Helwater.
“My point is… I can work and contribute and would do so gladly. I’ve more skill as a healer than a maid but…”
“A healer?” he interrupted.
“Yes. I treated the wounded after battle all through the Rising and my husband’s tenants before that. I’ve had additional practice in the last few years as well.”
“Cook will be up with the tray momentarily,” Geneva announced, barging back into the room and crossing to resume her seat. “Richards said Mackenzie is in the upper field and will be some time yet.”
“Excellent. Mrs. Mackenzie was just telling me about her skills as a healer. I was going to ask if she would mind taking a look at that maid of your mother’s who is ill—Miranda?”
“Mirabella,” Geneva corrected. “She is a poor, sickly creature. Hardly any use at all but Mother’s fond of her and her needlework is excellent. I’m sure Mother keeps her on to prevent Mirabella selling her handiwork to anyone else.”
“I would be happy to examine the woman later,” Claire said, taking Lord Dunsany’s interest as a hopeful sign, a test of her possible usefulness in his household.
“Your Lordship.” It was the doorman again. “Hughes is asking what you would like him to do about Mrs. Mackenzie’s horse and cart, sir.”
“Pardon me, ladies,” Lord Dunsany said, rising. “I’ll only be a moment.”
Claire kept her head high and held Geneva’s gaze after the older man had left the room. How much longer would the cook be with the food? She wasn’t hungry—there were far too many butterflies in her stomach at the prospect of seeing Jamie again for her to even think about eating—but she didn’t like the way this girl was looking at her and would prefer someone else remain present as well. Did the girl suspect the truth about Jamie’s identity? Not that he was Red Jamie, of course, but that he had been a Jacobite. Lord Dunsany knew the whole truth but what trouble might this foolish girl cause with such information and was she bored enough in their relative isolation at Helwater to use it?
“I suspected Mackenzie favored English girls,” Geneva remarked with a conspiratorial smile. “It’s nice to have my suspicions confirmed.”
So that’s what it was. Relief flooded through Claire. She’d handled jealous girls before.
“He doesn’t,” she retorted with a serene smile. “Favor English girls, that is. Just one English woman.”
Geneva chuckled as though Claire had made a joke. “Men are not content with just one woman. You can hope and pray they’ll be faithful, but they’ll always lust after someone younger—someone they can’t have.”
“Did your mother teach you that?” Claire asked with a skeptical laugh of her own.
“I thought it was common knowledge,” Geneva said, her tone shifting to one of pity. “It’s certainly what I’ve noticed.”
“Inexperience can trick you into seeing and believing many things that aren’t true about men,” Claire replied with a pitying tone of her own. She saw a ripple in Geneva’s mask as her words struck a nerve. “There certainly are men who behave as you describe, but my husband isn’t one of them, as anyone who truly knows him could tell you.”
The tension behind Geneva’s polite smile hardened. “I suppose only time can prove which of us is right,” Geneva finally responded.
There was a knock on the door and the cook arrived with a kitchen maid helping to carry the tray of food, saving Claire from answering.
“Fetch Mrs. Mackenzie’s children from the hall,” Geneva instructed. “I’m sure they haven’t had enough to eat today and we wouldn’t want to neglect them.”
Claire watched regret blossom on Geneva’s face when Brianna came running to Claire’s side. Whether it was Brianna’s obvious resemblance to Jamie or her age, the game she thought she was playing had shifted and she seemed to realize she wasn’t winning after all.
“Fergus is helping with the horse and our things,” Brianna whispered to Claire.
“Miss Dunsany, this is my daughter, Brianna,” Claire offered as an introduction. “Be polite, Bree.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Brianna said quietly, staying as close to her mother as she could. She was adjusting to the strange time and place, but Helwater was intimidating, perhaps less because of its size than because of who they’d come there to meet.
Geneva nodded stiffly.
There was another knock on the door, heavier this time and a fraction of a second’s hesitation before it was pushed open and Jamie appeared.
Geneva shot to her feet and color rose in her cheeks.
“Beg yer pardon,” Jamie apologized to her, “I was told his lordship was in here looking for a word wi’ me. I didna mean…”
In glancing around the room for Lord Dunsany, his eyes had finally fallen on Claire.
She smiled at him as tears filled her eyes.
Geneva glanced back and forth between the two of them before resting on Jamie again and watching as he passed from disbelief to awe.
“Sassenach,” he breathed, taking a shaky step towards her.
Claire stood and ran to him, wrapping herself around him and whispering his name in his ear.
He began sobbing then, his arms tightening around her like he was afraid she’d slip away from him. She let her own tears fall as she murmured quietly to soothe them both, running her hand up his back and neck, digging her fingers into his hair and pulling some loose from its plait.
Claire thought she heard Geneva mutter a breathless, “Excuse me,” before leaving the room but Claire didn’t care about anything except Jamie’s thankful prayers whispered in Gáidhlig against her hair.
He pulled back at last to look at her briefly before leaning in slowly to kiss her. He tasted like their mixed tears and the gentle press of lips quickly deepened to something more urgent, the tentative test proving true and the blind need beneath rising to take over.
But Claire remembered Brianna and how nervous she’d been about the prospect of meeting Jamie. She pulled back from him, a move that caused him to freeze with doubt. Taking his cheeks between her palms, she gave him one more gentle, reassuring kiss, and then turned toward Brianna.
Brianna’s face was bright red where she sat watching them. From the corner of her eye, Claire saw all the color drain from Jamie’s face as Brianna’s presence registered. His grip on her waist tightened reflexively. She traced his arms down to where he held her and loosened his hold on her, drawing his attention back to her.
“The bairn?” he asked in a rough whisper.
Claire nodded. “Jenny near fainted when she first met Brianna.”
“Brianna?” he repeated with awe.
“For your father, as promised.”
Claire took a few steps toward her daughter while Jamie remained frozen in place. When Brianna looked at her, she nodded, and Brianna stood to join her.
She trembled nervously as Claire moved behind her and braced her hands on her shoulders to reassure her. As they approached Jamie, he sank to a knee to be level with Brianna.
“Yer mother’s told ye about me?” he asked.
Brianna nodded. “Some.”
“Ye’re lovelier than I ever imagined,” he told her. “And I’ve spent a long time thinkin’ about ye—’bout you and yer mother both.”
“You’re happy we’re here?”
Jamie nodded, fresh tears slipping silently from his eyes and leaving streaks through the fine layer of dust and sweat on his cheeks. “I dinna ken as I’ve ever been happier than I am just now. Is it… Would ye mind if I…” He lifted his hand toward her face but didn’t touch her until she nodded.
He ran a finger lightly down her cheek and smiled when she giggled because it tickled. The end of her plait found its way between his fingers. It was only a few shades lighter than his own, just as bright as his had been at that age. Looking at her face was like gazing at his reflection in the water as a breeze disturbed the surface—recognizable flashes of himself but also echoes of his mother and brother, and then something entirely belonging to Brianna.
The lass giggled again as she began to touch his face too. She rubbed her finger across the stubble along his jaw—he didn’t bother to shave more than twice a week; the horses didn’t care and he wasn’t head groom so he didn’t even deal with the Dunsanys face-to-face on most days. Brianna poked at the barely-there dimple in his chin. She had one in the same spot. But she had a sprinkling of freckles across her nose that was missing from his own. Claire had given her those. He smiled and tilted his head so her palm caressed his cheek. The movement momentarily startled her stiff.
“I love you, mo nighean ,” he whispered.
She remained silent but smiled back, then stepped closer and slipped her arms around his neck, letting her head rest against his shoulder. He brought his arms up around her—so grown already and yet still so small and fragile in comparison to his own size.
Claire bit her lip to keep from making any noise that might disturb them.
“Are we gonna stay here with you?” Brianna murmured.
“I hope so,” Jamie answered with a glance to Claire.
“I broached the subject with Lord Dunsany—offered my services as a healer—but nothing’s been settled,” Claire explained.
“But… ye do want to stay…” Jamie stammered.
Claire got onto the floor beside her husband and daughter. “I’d give just about anything for us all to be together.”
“I’ll speak wi’ Lord Dunsany—and John Grey too, if it comes to that,” Jamie said. “You findin’ yer way to me once might ha’ been a happy accident, but you finding me here , again, after all this time … I’ll no let ye go again—either of ye.”
“Good,” Claire said, leaning into his other side so that the three of them were sitting on the sitting room floor, holding each other when Fergus joined them from helping with the horse and cart.
“I have delivered your women to you safely, Milord,” Fergus declared, causing Jamie and Claire to laugh and Brianna to roll her eyes.