Hughie shied and let out an astonished, high-pitched
Fergus glowered malevolently after them.
“Useless, noisy, smelly beasts,” he said. Rather ungratefully, I thought, given that the scarf and stockings he was wearing had almost certainly been woven from their wool.
“Nice to see you again, Fergus,” I said, ignoring his mood. “Does Jamie know you’re back yet?” I wondered just how much Fergus knew of recent events, if he had just arrived at Lallybroch.
“No,” he said, rather listlessly. “I suppose I should tell him I am here.” In spite of this, he made no move toward the house, but continued staring into the churned mud of the paddock. Something was obviously eating at him; I hoped nothing had gone wrong with his errand.
“Did you find Mr. Gage all right?” I asked.
He looked blank for a moment, then a spark of animation came back into his lean face.
“Oh, yes. Milord was right; I went with Gage to warn the other members of the Society, and then we went together to the tavern where they were to meet. Sure enough, there was a nest of Customs men there waiting, disguised. And may they be waiting as long as their fellow in the cask, ha ha!”
The gleam of savage amusement died out of his eyes then, and he sighed.
“We cannot expect to be paid for the pamphlets, of course. And even though the press was saved, God knows how long it may be until milord’s business is reestablished.”
He spoke with such mournfulness that I was surprised.
“You don’t help with the printing business, do you?” I asked.
He raised one shoulder and let it fall. “Not to say help, milady. But milord was kind enough to allow me to invest a part of my share of the profits from the brandy in the printing business. In time, I should have become a full partner.”
“I see,” I said sympathetically. “Do you need money? Perhaps I can—”
He shot me a glance of surprise, and then a smile that displayed his perfect, square white teeth.
“Thank you, milady, but no. I myself need very little, and I have enough.” He patted the side pocket of his coat, which jingled reassuringly.
He paused, frowning, and thrust both wrists deep into the pockets of his coat.
“Noo…” he said slowly. “It is only—well, the printing business is most respectable, milady.”
“I suppose so,” I said, slightly puzzled. He caught my tone and smiled, rather grimly.
“The difficulty, milady, is that while a smuggler may be in possession of an income more than sufficient for the support of a wife, smuggling as a sole profession is not likely to appeal to the parents of a respectable young lady.”
“Oho,” I said, everything becoming clear. “You want to get married? To a respectable young lady?”
He nodded, a little shyly.
“Yes, Madame. But her mother does not favor me.”
I couldn’t say I blamed the young lady’s mother, all things considered. While Fergus was possessed of dark good looks and a dashing manner that might well win a young girl’s heart, he lacked a few of the things that might appeal somewhat more to conservative Scottish parents, such as property, income, a left hand, and a last name.
Likewise, while smuggling, cattle-lifting, and other forms of practical communism had a long and illustrious history in the Highlands, the French did not. And no matter how long Fergus himself had lived at Lallybroch, he remained as French as Notre Dame. He would, like me, always be an outlander.
“If I were a partner in a profitable printing firm, you see, perhaps the good lady might be induced to consider my suit,” he explained. “But as it is…” He shook his head disconsolately.
I patted his arm sympathetically. “Don’t worry about it,” I said. “We’ll think of something. Does Jamie know about this girl? I’m sure he’d be willing to speak to her mother for you.”
To my surprise, he looked quite alarmed.
“Oh, no, milady! Please, say nothing to him—he has a great many things of more importance to think of just now.”
On the whole, I thought this was probably true, but I was surprised at his vehemence. Still, I agreed to say nothing to Jamie. My feet were growing chilly from standing in the frozen mud, and I suggested that we go inside.
“Perhaps a little later, milady,” he said. “For now, I believe I am not suitable company even for sheep.” With a heavy sigh, he turned and trudged off toward the dovecote, shoulders slumped.
To my surprise, Jenny was in the parlor with Jamie. She had been outside; her cheeks and the end of her long, straight nose were pink with the cold, and the scent of winter mist lingered in her clothes.
“I’ve sent Young Ian to saddle Donas,” she said. She frowned at her brother. “Can ye stand to walk to the barn, Jamie, or had he best bring the beast round for ye?”
Jamie stared up at her, one eyebrow raised.
“I can walk wherever it’s needful to go, but I’m no going anywhere just now.”
