Je Suis Prest || Outlander

Chapter 2

It was not my first visit to Lallybroch. Janet Murray was just about the closest thing to a friend I had ever known my mother to have. This trip to Lallybroch was different from the outset, however. For one, we had packed nearly all of our earthly possessions as if she planned on moving into Lallybroch. Secondly, my mother seemed anxious, but not in her usual way. For once, she showed eagerness to depart for our journey to Broch Tuarach rather than resignation. Her change in attitude began to rub off on Joanie and I as well. We wondered what sweets and cakes would be served, and more importantly which of the Murray siblings would be about.

"I wonder if Ian Òg will be there," Joan called out to our mother with an exaggerated giggle that seemed to imply it was I she was incriminating. She had pined after young Ian since our first trip to Lallybroch when Ian was the only child of the Murray clan to give her any amount of attention.

Our mother listlessly raised an eyebrow at Joan's squealing without turning her head from the road. My stomach turned at the thought of my mother thinking I fancied a lad, let alone young Ian Murray. 

"Haud yer wheesht, Joanie. I dinna ken what you're going on about." I slumped back in my seat and huffed.

"Dinna fash yerself, Marsali. He is too young for you besides." She motioned with her hand that wasn't clutching the reigns for me to sit up straight. "Both of you girls are to be on your best behavior tonight. Help Janet Murray in the kitchen, aye?"

"Yes, Ma," Joan and I said in unison, accustomed to appeasing Laoghaire MacKimmie.

When the outline of Lallybroch's namesake tower finally came into sight, my mother began snapping the reigns to will our two horses along the winding path up to the big house. What she was in a hurry for, I did not realize until much later.

I always envied the Murray family. Their father was such a patient and soft-spoken man. Having one leg would turn most men to the drink, and to cruelness, but he never raised a hand or his voice to Janet or the children. At least not in front of guests, he didn't. In fact, it was often Janet's commanding voice echoing through the walls. The daughters, young Janet especially, were the closest thing I had to having friends. However, I could never quite rid myself of the suspicion they were only nice to me at their mother's command.

There was of course, young Jamie who everyone knows was the laird of the estate, although why that was had never explained to me. The hushed tones whenever the James he was named after was mentioned signaled there must have been some bad business after the '45. Being laird made him quite the sought after bachelor in his day, but it wasn't him I was searching for as we approached Lallybroch. It was Michael Murray.

In twisted my skirts in my hands as I rehearsed what I might say when I saw him. I doubted he would even remember me. Sometimes with Joanie attached to my hip, people treated me younger than my age. I had high hopes of getting his attention the last time we were at Lallybroch. Instead, Michael had spent the entire night with another girl from Cranesmuir, Seònaid. How I hated her. Seònaid was everything I could never be—worldly, outgoing, confident. She was older than me by a couple of years and carried herself like a strong Scottish lass from the days long gone. In her world, the '45 never happened; her father was one of the Lallybroch men inexplicably sent home before Culloden so she had never known what it was like to lose everything before she was even brought into this world. She spoke Gaelic more so than Scots, and Lord forbid, English, and she never seemed to care who was around to hear her diatribes against the sassenachs. Sometimes in the morning I would help Janet in the kitchen with breakfast, and she would be outside in the garden wandering about with no bonnet, her hair hanging loose down her back in a frightful state, and mud caking onto her bare feet. Just thinking about her made me want to crawl out of my skin. And so, you can imagine my disappointment when it was not Michael whom I saw first, but Seònaid.