The Outlandish Companion - Diana Gabaldon [18]
“He’s to be called Fergus, ”Jamie explained. “His name is really Claudel, but we didna think that sounded verra manly.”
“But we already have a stable-lad, and a lad to clean the knives and boots,” I objected.
“Oh, aye, ”Jamie replied. “But we havena got a pickpocket.”
With the aid of Fergus’s light touch with a mailbag, Jamie keeps a thumb on the secret pulse of Royal politics and learns encouraging news: The Old Pretender, the ex-King James, harbors no hopes for the restoration of his throne. His motive in sending Charles to France was instead a hope of shaming Louis into providing a secure future for the young man, possibly as a general in the French army.
Perhaps, Jamie and Claire think, with the beginnings of hope, their mission is unnecessary?
Charles, the Young Pretender, harbors higher aspirations than the French army, though. The Frasers learn with alarm of Charles Stuart’s new venture: an investment in a shipload of port, the proceeds of which might be sufficient to finance the rebellion Stuart dreams of. Still more alarming is Charles’s choice of business partner in this venture—the Comte St. Germain.
Jamie begins a delicate game, probing among the bankers and nobles, the merchants and diplomats, to find a way to stop this venture from succeeding. Accompanying him to social events despite her growing bulk, Claire does her part in tracking rumor—and in starting it.
Among Claire’s new acquaintances is a young girl, met at one of Louise de Rohan’s parties: Mary Hawkins, the fifteen-year-old niece of one of Jamie’s business acquaintances. Shy, pretty, and afflicted with a stammer, Mary is ignorant of men in general—and blissfully ignorant of her uncle’s plan to marry her to an elderly and degenerate member of the French aristocracy.
At first sorry for the girl, and then befriending her, Claire finally realizes why Mary Hawkins’s name seemed so familiar—Claire has seen the name on a genealogical chart; Mary is—or will be—the six-times-great-grandmother of Frank Randall—the wife of Black Jack Randall.
But how? Jack Randall died at Wentworth Prison, trampled under the hooves of a herd of Highland cattle during Jamie’s rescue months before. And yet… Claire still wears the gold ring of her marriage to Frank, cool and secure on her left hand. How can that be, with the man who sired Frank’s line dead before any child of his could be conceived?
Jonathan Randall may be dead, but his ghost walks Jamie’s dreams. With the scars of Wentworth Prison still raw on his back, he wakes in a cold sweat, with Randall’s voice in his ears, Randall’s touch on his skin. Refusing to let Claire share the horror of his memories, he fights his demons alone at night, and rises in the morning with his memories clamped tight in a steel box of will.
Seeking herbal remedies that might ease his sleep, Claire makes the acquaintance of a small, mysterious apothecary, Master Raymond, who warns her both of the dangers of Royal intrigue, and of the Comte, whose sinister reputation is further clouded by rumors of his occult associations. Is the Comte behind the attempt on Jamie’s life in the Paris streets—or Claire’s near-poisoning at Versailles?
Within the widening circles of intrigue and uncertainty, the Frasers find refuge only within the security of their marriage. As the baby that is the tangible evidence of their love for each other grows in Claire’s womb, she and Jamie draw ever closer together, protecting each other from the shadowy dangers that surround them.
“Doesn’t it make you feel a bit nervous?” I asked as we went up the stairs. “Never being able to trust anyone?”
He laughed softly. “Well, I wouldna say anyone, Sassenach. There’s you—and Murtagh, and my sister, Jenny, and her husband, Ian. I’d trust the four of you wi’ my life—I have, for that matter, more than once.”
I shivered as he pulled back the drapes of the big bed. The fire had been banked for the night, and the room was growing cold.
“Four people you can trust doesn’t seem like all that many,” I said, unlacing my gown.
He pulled his shirt over his head and