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The door of the manse had a tendency to stick in damp weather, which er freed it with a rending screech, to find a woman on the doorstep
"Can I help you?"
She was ht and very pretty He had an overall impression of fine bones and white linen, topped with a wealth of curly brown hair in a sort of half-tanon And in the ht eyes, just the color of well-aged sherry
The eyes swept up from his size-eleven plireider "I hate to start right off with a cliché," she said, "but er!"
Roger felt hihed and extended a hand "You are Roger, aren't you? My name's Claire Randall; I was an old friend of the Reverend's But I haven't seen you since you were five years old"
"Er, you said you were a friend of my father's? Then, you know already…"
The sret
"Yes, I fully sorry to hear about it Heart, was it?"
"Um, yes Very sudden I've only just co" He waved vaguely, enco the Reverend's death, the house behind him, and all its contents
"From what I recall of your father's library, that little chore ought to last you 'til next Christmas," Claire observed
"In that case,you," said a soft American voice
"Oh, I forgot," said Claire, half-turning to the girl who had stood out of sight in the corner of the porch "Roger Wakefield—hter, Brianna"
Brianna Randall stepped forward, a shy ser stared for athe door open wide, ed his shirt
"Not at all, not at all!" he said heartily "I was just wanting a break Won't you come in?"
He waved the to that as well as being irls he'd ever seen close-to She had to be easily six feet, he thought, seeing her head even with the top of the hall stand as she passed He unconsciously straightened hi up to his full six feet three At the lasthis head on the study lintel as he followed the women into the room
"I'dherself deeper in the huge wing chair The fourth wall of the Reverend's study was equipped with floor-to-ceiling s, and the sunlight winked off the pearl clip in her light-brown hair The curls were beginning to escape from their confinement, and she tucked one absently behind an ear as she talked
"I'd arranged to coency at the hospital in Boston—I' a little at the look of surprise Roger hadn't quite ed to conceal "But I'm sorry that we didn't; I would have liked so ain"
Roger rather wondered why they had co the Reverend was dead, but it seehtseeing, are you?"
"Yes, we drove up frohter "I wanted Bree to see the country; you wouldn't think it to hear her talk, but she's as English as I ah she's never lived here"
"Really?" Roger glanced at Brianna She didn't really look English, he thought; aside froht, she had thick red hair, worn loose over her shoulders, and strong, sharp-angled bones in her face, with the nose long and straight—
"I was born in America," Brianna explained, "but both Mother and Daddy are—were—English"
"Were?"
"My husband died two years ago," Claire explained "You knew him, I think—Frank Randall"
"Frank Randall! Of course!" Roger srow hot at Brianna's giggle "You're going to think me a complete fool, but I've only just realized who you are"
The name explained a lot; Frank Randall had been an eood friend of the Reverend's; they had exchanged bits of Jacobite arcana for years, though it was at least ten years since Frank Randall had last visited the manse
"So—you'll be visiting the historical sites near Inverness?" Roger hazarded "Have you been to Culloden yet?"
"Not yet," Brianna answered "We thought we'd go later this week" Her answering s more
"We're booked for a trip down Loch Ness this afternoon," Claire explained "And perhaps we'll drive down to Fort Williarown a lot since I was last here"
"When was that?" Roger wondered whether he ought to volunteer his services as tour guide He really shouldn't take the tiood friends of the Reverend's Besides, a car trip to Fort William in co prospect than cleaning out the garage, which was next on his list
"Oh,tilance at her, but she met his eyes with a smile
"Well," he ventured, "if there's anything I can do for you, while you're in the Highlands…"
Claire was still sed He could allanced at Brianna, then back to Roger
"Since you
"Oh, Mother!" Brianna said, sitting up in her chair "You don't want to bother Mr Wakefield! Look at all he's got to do!" She waved a hand at the crowded study, with its overflowing cartons and endless stacks of books
"Oh, no bother at all!" Roger protested "Er…what is it?"
Claire shot her daughter a quelling look "I wasn't planning to knock hiht well know someone who could help It's a ser "I need sohteenth-century Jacobites—Bonnie Prince Charlie and all that lot"
Roger leaned forward, interested "Jacobites?" he said "That period's not one ofso close to Culloden That's where the final battle was, you know," he explained to Brianna "Where the Bonnie Prince's lot ran up against the Duke of Cuhtered for their pains"
"Right," said Claire "And that, in fact, has to do hat I want to find out" She reached into her handbag and drew out a folded paper
Roger opened it and scanned the contents quickly It was a list of names—: "JACOBITE RISING, 1745—CULLODEN"
"Oh, the '45?" Roger said "These ht at Culloden, did they?"
"They did," Claire replied "What I want to find out is—how many of the men on this list survived that battle?"
Roger rubbed his chin as he perused the list "That's a siht be hard to find So hland clansmen who followed Prince Charles were killed on Culloden Field that they weren't buried individually They were put intothe clan name as a marker"
"I know," Claire said "Brianna hasn't been there, but I have—a long ti shadow in her eyes, though it was quickly hidden as she reached into her handbag No wonder if there was, he thought Culloden Field was an affecting place; it brought tears to his own eyes, to look out over that expanse of e of the Scottish Highlanders who lay slaughtered beneath the grass
She unfolded several er ran down the er noted; delicatelyon each hand The silver one on her right hand was especially striking; a wide Jacobean band in the Highland interlace pattern, embellished with thistle blossoms
"These are the naht help, since if the husbands were killed at Culloden, you'd likely find these wo afterward Those records would surely be in the parish register? They're all froood bit south of here"
"That's a very helpful idea," Roger said,an historian would think of"
"I'm hardly an historian," Claire Randall said dryly "On the other hand, when you live with one, you do pick up the occasional odd thought"
"Of course" A thought struck Roger, and he rose froet you a drink, and then you can tell me a bit more about this Perhaps I could help you with it myself"
Despite the disorder, he knehere the decanters were kept, and quickly had his guests supplied hisky He'd put quite a lot of soda in Brianna's, but noticed that she sipped at it as though her glass contained ant spray, rather than the best Glenfiddich single malt Claire, who took her whisky neat by request, seemed to enjoy it much more
"Well" Roger resuain "It's an interesting problem, in terms of historical research You said these le clan or sept—I see a number of them were named Fraser"
Claire nodded, hands folded in her lap "They cahland farm called Broch Tuarach—it was known locally as Lallybroch They were part of clan Fraser, though they never gave a foriance to Lord Lovat as chief These ht in the Battle of Prestonpans—while Lovat's men didn't come until just before Culloden"
"Really? That's interesting" Under norhteenth-century conditions, such small tenant-farmers would have died where they lived, and be filed tidily away in the village churchyard, neatly docketed in the parish register However, Bonnie Prince Charlie's atteain the throne of Scotland in 1745 had disrupted the nors in no uncertain terms
In the farated to the New World; others had drifted frolens and moors toward the cities, in search of food and e to their land and traditions
"It wouldaloud "Follow the fate of a number of individuals, see what happened to the if they all were killed at Culloden, but chances were that a few made it out" He would be inclined to take on the project as a welcome break even were it not Claire Randall who asked
"Yes, I think I can help you with this," he said, and was gratified at the warm smile she bestowed on him
"Would you really? That's wonderful!" she said
"My pleasure," Roger said He folded the paper and laid it on the table "I'll start in on it directly But tell me, how did you enjoy your drive up from London?"
The conversation becaaled him with tales of their transatlantic journey, and the drive froan to plan the research for this project He feltit on; he really shouldn't take the ti question And it was possible that he could co-up of the Reverend's ht cartons in the garage, all labeled JACOBITES, MISCELLANEOUS The thought of it was enough to make him feel faint
With a wrench, he tore his e, to find that the conversation had e of subject
"Druids?" Roger felt dazed He peered suspiciously into his glass, checking to see that he really had added soda
"You hadn't heard about thehtly disappointed "Your father—the Reverend—he knew about theh only unofficially Perhaps he didn't think it worth telling you; he thought it so of a joke"
Roger scratched his head, ruffling the thick black hair "No, I really don't recall But you're right, heserious"
"Well, I don't know that it is" She crossed her legs at the knee A streak of sunlight glea the delicacy of the long bone beneath
"When I was here last with Frank—God, that enty-three years ago!—the Reverend told hiroup of—well, modern Druids, I suppose you'd call theht be;forward now, interested, the glass of whisky forgotten between her hands
"The Reverend couldn't take official notice of theanism and all that, you know—but his housekeeper, Mrs Grahas from time to time, and he tipped Frank that there would be a ceremony of some kind on the dawn of Beltane—May Day, that is"