art-is-art-is-art:art-is-art-is-art:art-is-art-is-art:russiawave:Here are some of the newest stations of the Moscow metro (they aren’t as spectacular as the ones built under Stalin, but still quite decent):Dostoyevskaya (2010)Maryina roshcha (201…
Summary: An exploration of Claire & Jamie’s story if their firstborn had lived and they had the chance to be parents together of wee Faith Fraser before the Battle of Culloden.
Chapter 25
Jamie didn’t know what hour of night it was when Claire was finally given a chance to rest, after having been helped into a clean nightgown while the bed was stripped. The baby was bundled up and sleeping soundly in her cradle, the exhaustion from the last 24 hours having caught up with both mother and babe. He paused at the door, gaze flickering between the slumbering forms of his wife and their wee lass, heart in his throat.
Some small part of him was scared to step outside this room, to leave them even for a moment, lest he find out that the last several hours were nothing more than a dream.
But somewhere down the hall, there was someone waiting up for word of the baby, and Jamie wasn’t so cruel as to make him wait until sunrise.
So he slipped out into the hallway, vacant but still dimly lit with candles along the wall. Not long ago, there had been a flurry of activity in these halls. After the birth, a maid had spread word to the rest of the household that a baby girl had been safely delivered, including ‒ Jamie was sure ‒ to wherever Jared and Murtagh had settled in to drink their whiskey in the tense silence of men unsure of what to do with themselves while a woman labored. And just shortly before Jamie’s trek, another housemaid had helped Mother Hildegarde and Marie to their guest chambers for the night. But even while it was quiet now and the rest of the household seemed to sleep, Jamie knew one person was still up, who had been missed while the joyous news was spread.
On a seemingly mundane day at the library, Claire comes into work to find a note and a flower awaiting her on her desk. It appears to be written by a secret admirer. Her husband, Frank, has recently informed her of his desire for a divorce, and heart still raw and vulnerable, she is taken quite off guard by these particular attentions. Claire soon realizes there may be more depth of affection in the posies and poems than she initially considered.
Tori