Work Text:
"Bang...Thump...Screech..."
Fergus jolted upright in his bed. What the hell was that, he thought. The sounds had come from overhead. That could only mean that it had come from the attic. But what would anyone be doing in the attic of Lallybroch at this time of the night.
It had been past midnight when he had said goodnight to Milord and Monsieur Murray, as they had all made their way somewhat unsteadily to their chambers, and surely that must have been some time ago. He had been asleep when the noises had penetrated his room.
They had been the last members of the household awake. It didn't make sense for someone to be rummaging around in the attic now.
Fergus stumbled from his bed, lighted a candle, and unsure as to what he was going to find, pulled on his breeks before heading out into the corridor and thence up the stairs to the attic space. Pressing his ear to the door at the top of the stairs, he could just make out the sound of a voice softly mumbling. Thankful for Madame Murray's strict and careful housekeeping, he knew that the attic door would not squeak as he slowly turned the knob and pushed the door open. He carefully peeked into the room...Fergus, wee Jamie and Rabbie had often played in these attics on rainy days when they were children, and tales of ghosts, faeries, witches and other legendary creatures had suffused the time he had spent in this space.
He let out a sigh of relief as he saw who and what had obviously created the noises which had woken him. Jamie Fraser was sitting on the floor, leaning against an old footstool, and he was surrounded by three trunks which had last been seen to be stacked on top of a larger trunk in the corner of the room. Fergus thought he had heard the words "I'm so sorry, Sassenach,' as he opened the door. It would seem Jamie was talking to his beloved wife...who had died 18 years ago. Even so, Fergus didn't think he was befuddled by the alcohol he had drunk earlier that night.
The noises had obviously occurred when the trunks had been moved to the floor and then pushed into their current positions. Milord's strength and dexterity, which would normally have had him picking up and moving them with no trouble whatsoever, had however obviously been affected by the liquor.
The lids of all three trunks had been opened, and spilling from the trunks were fabrics in all manner of jewel colours...a deep vibrant embossed green, an unusual but striking saffron, a deep purplish blue, a large primarily pink floral pattern on a brown background. Memories flooded into Fergus' mind, and he instantly knew what he was looking at. Milady's gowns from their time in Paris. They had been carefully packed up and shipped back to Lallybroch when the Frasers had returned to Scotland and being made primarily from rich silks and satins had been stored away here, as they had been deemed unsuitable for everyday life on a Highland Farm or to be taken on the road when Milord and Milady had headed off to join the Rising.
Milord had obviously been searching through the trunks. Many of the dresses were no longer carefully folded, and two of them had been removed from the trunks. One, a vibrant crimson dress lay spread on the floor at milord's left hand. The other was a beautiful gown of sheer white silk and silver linen. The white silk underskirt and the silver linen overskirt were embroidered in metallic thread with acorns and leaves falling in a soft shower to the hem. The skirt lay spread out across milord's lap, glistening in the glow from the candles which lighted the area. His right hand could be seen tenderly stroking the material.
With so many family members at Lallybroch for tomorrow's ceremony, the adult males had moved to the stables shortly after dinner, leaving the house to the women and children. They had spent the evening imbibing whiskey. It had started out as a friendly drinking bout between the men of the family, but had turned, during the evening, as their numbers reduced, into a shoring up of Milord's intention to wed on the morrow. Jamie Murray, together with Paul Lyle, Maggie's husband, and Geordie Silvers, Kitty's husband, had quit the drinking party relatively early, as their young wives were awaiting them. This had left Ian Murray, Milord's brother-in-law and oldest friend, and Fergus, who Milord considered his adopted son, to listen as Jamie Fraser tried to convince them, and himself, that he was willing and ready to do this thing...that he was finally able to move on to the next stage of his life. Finding milord sitting on the attic floor, mumbling to himself, and surrounded by his dead wife's clothes, definitely seemed to confirm Fergus' doubts on that subject.
Jamie Fraser's head lifted and his eyes met those of his son. "It's alright, Fergus, you can come in."
Fergus moved forward slowly. He crouched down, placing a hand gently on his father's ankle. "Milord, you should be in bed. Tomorrow will come quickly."
"Aye, lad. I tried, but as I walked past the Laird's room on my way to my bed I suddenly felt her with me..." Jamie whispered. His gaze moved over the dresses spilling from the trunks. "She was so beautiful. Do ye remember, lad?"
"I do, milord. Not only beautiful, but kind, spirited, with a caring and loving heart." As Fergus looked more closely at the dresses, which Jamie had forbidden anyone to touch in the years since Culloden, he remembered how different she had seemed from other women when he first met her. While not important to Milady, to the women of Paris, fashion was of paramount interest. Understated elegance, had been the term most often used to refer to Madame Fraser in those long gone, heady, yet dangerous days in the French capital. "She had a style so different from the ladies of Louis' court, more simple and yet so striking." Fergus could recall seeing Milady in many of the gowns. "I don't remember those two gowns though," he said indicating the two Jamie had pulled from the trunks.
"No, I don't suppose you would. She only wore them once. I remember when I first saw her in the red, my eyes almost fell out of my head and I'm fairly certain my jaw hit the ground. Murtagh had the same reaction, and I had to jab him in the ribs to remind him that it was *my wife* he was staring at. She wore it on our first visit to the French Court. God, it was like the gown wore her." Jamie fell silent as his mind retreated into his memories of Claire in the daring gown she had worn to Versailles. Unlike the trend at the time, Claire had kept the gown exceedingly simple, allowing the vibrant colour and the deep decolletage, framing the ivory skin of her neck and chest, to make a statement. Her only adornment had been a pair of earrings. She had stood out like a beacon amongst the overly frilled and flounced and bejewelled women of the French court.
Fergus nodded quietly. "And the white gown, milord?"
Jamie's voice became even more tender, if such a thing was even possible. "That was her wedding gown. When I came out of the church and saw her standing there, in that dress, it was like I'd stepped outside on a cloudy day and suddenly the sun came out. Even though she didna want to get married, I'd tried hard to ensure that the day would be special for her. That she would at least have a nice gown to be wed in...Ned certainly came through when we sent him in search of one."
"Ned...Ned Gowan!" Fergus exclaimed.
"Aye, it was he and Dougal who came up with the plan, you see," Jamie started to explain.
"I don't understand, milord. What plan? And what do you mean...milady didn't want to marry you!" Fergus was deeply shocked; he had never known two people more in love than Jamie and Claire Fraser.
"Well, it was rather complicated, Fergus. You see, Claire had been taken under the protection of the Mackenzie clan when she'd been found fightin' off a British officer in nothing more than her shift. She wanted only to return to her home, but Colum had decreed she was to be the healer at Castle Leoch. Well, it came about that she was to be part of the Rent Party that traversed the Mackenzie lands visitin' the tenants who could not come to the Gathering, and whilst we were on the road she again came to the attention of the British...especially of a certain British Captain of Dragoons who had begun physically abusin' her in an attempt to get information about the Mackenzies possibly raising funds for a Scottish rebellion. Luckily, Dougal broke up the interrogation and got Claire out of their hands, but as she was a British subject we were ordered to return her for further questioning. The only way to keep her out of British hands was to make her a Scot...the only way to do that was to have her marry one. I was nominated. Claire had only recently lost her first husband and was not in any mind to marry again, but there was little alternative." Fergus listened closely as Jamie explained the circumstances surrounding his arranged marriage, but he was still perplexed.
"And you, milord. Did you have no say in the matter?" he queried.
"Well, aye, lad, I did. I couldha said no...there were other unmarried men in the party. But the truth of the matter was that I wanted nothing as much as I wanted to marry Claire. I'd wanted her more than life itself since the first moment I saw her. I'd been in love with her for weeks...but I knew how she still grieved for her husband, so I...I thought all I could offer her was my friendship and protection. When Dougal suddenly offered me the chance for everything I'd been dreaming of, I knew I wouldna...couldna...turn him down. I pretended to consider it for a few moments, but inside my heart was beatin' so fast at the thought that she could be mine." Jamie smiled, his eyes alight.
"Of course I couldna tell anyone my true reasons for agreeing. I told everyone, including Claire, that it was only to keep her safe from the British. Though, I think Dougal may have suspected my feelings. When I agreed, I noticed a small look flash between him and Ned that seemed to indicate they had felt there was little chance I wouldna do it. We married the next day, and it was some weeks later, here at Lallybroch actually, before I finally told her the truth...that I had married her because I loved her, because I wanted her more than I'd ever wanted anything in my life. When she responded by telling me that she loved me...well, the rest of that memory is mine and I willna be sharin' it with you or anyone."
"But, milord, how did you know?" Fergus asked.
"Know? Know what?" Jamie responded.
"That she was the right woman for you. I have seen many marriages in my life, milord. Growing up in the brothel, it is true one saw only one side of marriage, but it became obvious to me that many men marry women who are not right for them, or else why would they be visiting a brothel. I learnt that marriages are most commonly made not out of love, but for reasons of family, wealth, power." He had been thinking along these lines, most of the night. Now was the time to ask.
"It was the thing I first noted when you hired me in Paris. I had seen you many times at Maison Elise, but you never partook of the services of any of the mesdames de la maison. You came to meet with your compatriots, you drank, you conversed with the girls...but nothing more. Then when you took me into your home, when I met milady and saw how you were together...I knew, this marriage was different. This marriage was grounded in a deep love."
"I have witnessed, at close hand, only one other marriage...Monsieur and Madame Murray. I have over the years, when you were gone from us, asked Monsieur such questions. He told me he could only comment on his own marriage...and that he had known Madame all his life. That they had been children together, and that their love had grown as they had."
"But, from what you say, milord, you fell in love with milady almost at once. How did you know she was the right woman for you, in so short a time?"
Jamie took his time, contemplating what his answer should be. Fergus started refolding the gowns, which had been tumbled about during milord's searching. He repacked the trunks as he waited for an answer.
"Mon fils, I can only tell you what my da told me. I dinna understand it then, and I dinna understand it now...I can only say it was true for me. He told me when the time came, I'd have no doubt. And I didn't."
"Then, milord, why are you doing this thing tomorrow?" he challenged Jamie.
"Maybe because I recall something Ian once said to me. It was just after you lost your hand. He said that he was obviously missing a leg, but that it still pained him at times. That you would probably, as time passed, continue to feel pain in your missing hand. Is that not so?"
"Oui, milord. It is." Fergus looked searchingly at Jamie, trying to see where this line of thought was heading.
"Ian went on to say that what I was missing was my heart...that Claire had been my heart. He has never spoken truer words. Well, Ian has his peg leg, you have your wooden hand...I'm certainly not suggesting that it's the same as having your limbs back, but they enable you to carry on with life. It's not so easy to replace a heart...it's loss has left a great gaping hole in me, a hole which nothing has been able to fill in the last 18 years. So many things vanished when I lost Claire...my dreams of having a family was only one of them. When I encountered Joanie and Marsali, I found myself smiling and laughing for the first time...well, since Claire. It became obvious that those two young girls wanted and needed a father, something I had always longed to be. And I'll admit, I was lonely...I was back at Lallybroch after so many years, but I felt like a ghost, there was no real task for me here, no real place any longer. Jenny was pushin' me to make the match, and so I finally agreed. I'm not looking to find what I had with Claire, I know that can never be...but maybe this marriage, making this family, maybe it will fill the hole a little. I mean to try, anyway."
"I understand, milord. I hope it works out for you." Fergus stood, and reached out a hand to Jamie. "Would you like me to help you put the dresses away, milord? You really should try to get some sleep."
Jamie looked around the room, noticing for the first time that Fergus had tidied the trunks away. There was now only one left open, awaiting the two gowns which he was still surrounded by.
"No, thank you, Fergus. I still need a little longer here with...." Fergus watched as Jamie's hands continued to caress the fabrics. "Don't worry, I'll finish tidying up and be down shortly. G'night, mon fils."
"Bonne nuit, mon pére." Fergus quietly left the room, gently closing the door on the man who had already sunk back into his memories.
The End
mesdames de la maison - ladies of the house
mon fils - my son
bonne nuit, mon pere - good night, my father