The Outlandish Companion - Diana Gabaldon [42]
And so, when Jenny once more forced the possibility of marriage upon him, he was at last obliged to listen. Laoghaire was a widow, with two daughters to support. She was also one of the few links remaining to his own youth. And so, he tells Claire, they wed—with no sense of love, but thinking that they might be able at least to help each other.
It was a mismatch, though; instead of being comfort to one another, there was nothing but misunderstanding and misery, and within a year, Jamie had left to work in Edinburgh, sending back money for the care of Laoghaire and her girls.
Despite her anger, Claire is moved to understanding; she, too, has had a marriage of obligation, and knows too well the pitfalls of a bond without love.
“Do ye know?” he said softly, somewhere in the black, small hours of the night. “Do ye know what it’s like to be with someone that way? To try all ye can, and seem never to have the secret of them?”
“Yes,” I said, thinking of Frank. “Yes, I do know.”
“I thought perhaps ye did.” He was quiet for a moment, and then his hand touched my hair lightly, a shadowy blur in the firelight.
“And then …” he whispered, “then to have it back again, that knowing. To be free in all ye say or do, and know that it is right.”
“To say ’I love you,’ and mean it with all your heart,” I said softly to the dark.
“Aye,” he answered, barely audible. “To say that.”
His hand rested on my hair, and without knowing quite how it happened, I found myself curled against him, my head just fitting in the hollow of his shoulder.
“For so many years,” he said, “for so long, I have been so many things, so many different men.” I felt him swallow, and he shifted slightly, the linen of his nightshirt rustling with starch.
“I was ’Uncle’ to Jenny’s children, and ’Brother’ to her and Ian. ’Milord’ to Fergus, and ’Sir’ to my tenants. Mac Dubh’ to the men of Ardsmuir and ’MacKenzie to the other servants at Helwater.
’Malcolm the printer,’ then, and Jamie Roy at the docks.“ The hand stroked my hair, slowly, with a whispering sound like the wind outside. ”But here,“ he said, so softly I could barely hear him, ”here in the dark, with you … I have no name.”
I lifted my face toward his, and took the warm breath of him between my own lips.
“I love you,” I said, and did not need to tell him how I meant it.
Jamie’s recovery is uneventful, save for the appearance of Hobart MacKenzie, Laoghaire’s brother. Charged with wiping out the stain on his sister’s honor, Hobart has brought not the expected sword or pistol, but something far more dangerous—a lawyer. Claire is delighted to find her old friend Ned Gowan still alive and vigorous—though somewhat less pleased at the arrangement he suggests; in dismissal of all claims and charges, Jamie agrees to pay Laoghaire an annual sum for maintenance of her household, and to provide dowries for her two daughters, Marsali and Joan.
While all right in principle, this arrangement has a slight drawback in practice, insofar as Jamie has no funds with which to meet the obligation. There is, however, a way.
Jamie tells Claire the story of his time in prison; the appearance of Duncan Kerr, and Jamie’s subsequent escape to find the truth of Kerr’s ravings about treasure and “the white witch.” He found no trace of Claire, but did discover treasure. Not the French bullion of legend, but a box of gemstones and ancient coins, hidden on a rocky isle guarded by seals.
Returning to Ardsmuir in order to care for his men there, he had concealed the truth from the prison’s governor, swearing to him that the treasure “lies in the sea.” Since then, the existence of the treasure has been held as a secret trust by the Murrays of Lallybroch; in time of great need, one or another of the older boys would journey to the coast with Ian, and then swim out to the seals’ isle in