An Echo in the Bone (150 page)

Since I speak of her, though—she bids me tell you of her Remorse regarding
Things said to you. I told her we had spoken of it between us, and that your
Compassion would not hold it against her, realizing the desperate Circumstances
in which she spoke.

On the Morning of Ian’s Death, she spoke to me with apparent Rationality, and
said she thought she would leave Lallybroch, that with his Death, nothing holds
her here. I was, as you may suppose, much astonished to hear this, but did not try
to question or dissuade her, assuming this to be only the Counsel of a Mind
deranged by Sleeplessness and Grief.

She has since repeated this Sentiment to me, though, with firm Assurance that she
is indeed in her right Mind. I am going to France for a short Time—both to
accomplish some private Transactions that I will not write of here, and to assure
myself before departing for America that both Michael and Joan are settled, they
having left together, the Day following Ian’s Burial. I said to Jenny that she must
think carefully whilst I am absent—but that if she is in Fact convinced that this is
what she wants, I will bring her to America. Not to stay with us (I smile,
imagining your Face, which is transparent, even in my Mind).

She would have a Place, though, with Fergus and Marsali, where she would be of
Use, and yet would not be reminded daily of her Loss—and where she would be in
a Position to help and support Young Ian, should he require such Help (or at
least to know how he does, if he does not).

(It also occurs to me—as it surely has to her—that Young Jamie’s Wife will now
be the Lady of Lallybroch, and that there is not Room for Two such. She is wise
enough to know what the Difficulties of such a Situation would be, and kind
enough to wish to avoid them, for the Sake of her Son and his Wife.)
In any Case, I propose to depart for America by the End of this Month, or as near
to that as Passage may be obtained. The Prospect of being Reunited with you
lightens my Heart and I remain forever

Your Devoted Husband,

Jamie

Paris

1 April

My dearest Wife;

I am returned very late to my new Lodging in Paris tonight. In fact, I found the
Door bolted against me on my Return, and was obliged to shout for the Landlady,
who was somewhat ill-tempered at being roused from her Bed. I was the more ill-tempered in my Turn, at finding no Fire laid, no Supper kept, and Nothing upon
the Bedframe save a moldy Tick and threadbare Blanket which would not serve to
shelter the meanest Beggar.

Further Shouts earned me Nothing save Abuse (from behind a safely lock’d
Door), and my Pride would not suffer me to offer Bribes even would my Purse do
so. I remain thus in my barren Garret, frozen and starving (this pitiful Picture is
here drawn for the craven Purpose of soliciting your Sympathy, and to convince
you of how poorly I Fare without you).

I am determined to depart this Place as soon as it be Light, and seek whether
better Lodging can be found without excessive Damage to my Purse. Meanwhile,
I shall endeavor to forget both Cold and Hunger in pleasant Converse with you,
hoping that the Effort of writing will summon your Image before me and lend me
the Illusion of your Company.

(I have possessed myself of adequate Light by stealing Downstairs in my
Stockings and snatching two silver Candlesticks from the front Parlor, whose
deceitful Grandeur seduced me into assuming Residence here. I shall return the
Candlesticks tomorrow—when Madame returns the extortionate Fee for this
miserable Accommodation.)

To more pleasant Subjects: I have seen Joan, now secure in her Convent, and
apparently content (why, no, since you ask; I did not attend the Wedding of her
Mother to Joseph Murray—who is, it turns out, a second Cousin to Ian. I sent a
handsome Present and my good Wishes, which are sincere). I will visit Michael
tomorrow; I look forward to seeing Jared again and will give him your kindest
Regards.

In the Meantime, I sought Sustenance this Morning in a Coffeehouse in
Montmartre, and was there fortunate to encounter Mr. Lyle, whom I had met in
Edinburgh. He greeted me most kindly, inquired after my Fortunes, and after
some small Conversation of a personal Nature, invited me to attend the Meeting
of a certain Society, whose Members include Voltaire, Diderot, and others whose
Opinions are heard in the Circles I seek to influence.

I went thus by Appointment at two o’clock to a House, where I was admitted and
found all within most grandly appointed, it being the Paris Residence of Monsieur
Beaumarchais.

The Company there gathered was mixt indeed; it ran the Gamut from the
shabbiest of Coffee-house Philosophers to the most elegant Ornaments of
Parisian Society, the Character common to them all being only a love of Talk.

Some Pretentions to Reason and Intellect were made, to be sure, but not insisted
on. I could not ask a fairer Wind for my maiden Voyage as a political
Provocateur—and Wind, you will see, is a most apt Image in considering the
Events of the Day.

After some inconsequent Babble over the refreshment Tables (had I been
forewarned of Conditions here, I should have taken Care to stuff my Pockets
surreptitiously with Cakes, as I saw more than one of my fellow Guests doing),
the Company withdrew into a large Room and took Seats, for the Purpose of
witnessing a formal Debate between two Parties.

The Matter under Debate was that popular Thesis, Resolved: that the Pen be
mightier than the Sword, with Mr. Lyle and his Adherents defending the
Proposition, M. Beaumarchais and his friends stoutly averring the Counter. The
Talk was lively, with much Allusion to the Works of Rousseau and Montaigne
(and not a little personal Disparagement of the Former, owing to his immoral
Views on Marriage), but eventually Mr. Lyle’s Party prevailed in their
arguments. I thought of showing the Society my Right Hand, as Evidence for the
Counter-proposition (a Sample of my Penmanship must have proved the Case to
the Satisfaction of All), but Forbore, being but an Observer.

I found Opportunity later to approach Monsieur Beaumarchais, and made such
an Observation to him in Jest, by way of fixing his Attention. He was most imprest
by sight of my missing Digit, and inform’d of the Occasion of it (or rather, what I
chose to tell him), became most animated and insistent that I accompany his
Party to the house of the Duchess de Chaulnes, whence he was obliged for
Supper, as the Duke is known to have a great Interest in Matters pertaining to the
Aboriginal Inhabitants of the Colonies.

You will be wondering, no doubt, what Connexion exists between Aboriginal
Savages and your most elegant Surgery? Have Patience for a few Lines longer.

The ducal Residence is placed in a Street with a sweeping Drive upon which I
perceived several fine Carriages ahead of M. Beaumarchais’s. Imagine my
Delight upon being informed that the Gentleman who descended just before us
was none other than M. Vergennes, the Foreign Minister.

I congratulated myself upon my good Fortune in so soon encountering so many
Persons suited to my Purpose, and did my best to ingratiate myself with them—to
this End, telling Tales of my Travels in America, and borrowing in the Process
not a few Stories from our Good Friend Myers.

The Company was most gratifyingly astonished, being particularly attentive to the
Story of our Meeting with the Bear and with Nacognaweto and his Fellows. I
made much of your valiant Efforts with the Fish, which much amused the Party,
though the Ladies appeared most Shocked at my Description of your Indian
Attire. Mr. Lyle, to the Contrary, was agog to hear more of your Appearance in
leather Trouserings—I judged him by this a confirm’d Lecher and a Reprobate, a
Judgement verified later in the Evening by a Passage I observ’d in the Hallway
between Mr. Lyle and Mademoiselle Erlande, who I perceive to be most wanton
in her own Conduct.

In any Case, this Story led Mr. Lyle to draw the Attention of the Company to my
Hand, and urge me to tell them the Story which I had unfolded to him in the
Afternoon, of how I came to lose my Finger.

Seeing that the Company had reached such a Pitch of Enjoyment—being well
lubricated with Champagne, Holland Gin, and large quantities of Hock—that
they hung upon my Words, I spared no Pains in weaving them a Tale of Horror
calculated to leave them shivering in their Beds.

I had (I said) been taken Captive by the dreadful Iroquois while journeying from
Trenton to Albany. I described in great Detail the frightful Appearance and
bloodthirsty Habit of these Savages—which required no great Exaggeration, to be
sure—and dwelt at Length upon the fearful Tortures which the Iroquois are wont
to inflict upon their hapless Victims. La Comtesse Poutoude swooned at my
recounting of the grisly Death of Father Alexandre, and the rest of the Party was
much affected.

I told them of Two Spears, who I trust will not object to my Slandering his
Character in a good Cause, the more so as he will never hear of it. This Chief, I
said, being determined to put me to the Torture, caused me to be stripped naked,
and most cruelly whip’d. With Thought of our good Friend Daniel, who has
turned the same Misfortune to his Advantage, I raised my Shirt and Displayed my
Scars. (I felt somewhat the Whore, but it has been my Observation that most
Whores pursue this Profession from Necessity, and I comfort myself that it is
much the same.) The reaction of my Audience was all that could be hoped, and I
continued my Narrative, secure in the Knowledge that from this Point, they would
believe Anything.

Thereafter (I said), two of the Indian Braves brought me fainting into the Chief’s
Presence, and secured me extended flat upon a large Stone, whose Surface bore
sinister Witness to previous Sacrifice conducted thereon.

A heathen Priest or Shaman then approached me, uttering hideous Cries and
shaking a Stick decorated by many waving Scalps, which caused me to fear that
my own Hair might prove of such Attraction by Virtue of its unusual Colour as
shortly to be added to his Collection (I had not powder’d my Hair, tho’ from lack
of Powder, rather than Forethought). This Fear was much enhanced when the
Shaman drew forth a large Knife and advanced upon me, Eyes glittering with
Malice.

At this Point, the Eyes of my Hearers were glittering as well, being enlarged to
the size of Saucers by Reason of their Attention to my Story. Many of the Ladies
cried out in Pity for my desperate Situation, and the Gentlemen uttered fierce
Execrations of the foul Savages responsible for my Plight.

I told them then how the Shaman had driven his Knife straight through my Hand,
causing me to lose Consciousness by Reason of Fear and Pain. I awoke (I
continued) to find my fourth Finger sever’d completely, and Blood pouring from
my wounded Hand.

But most horrifying of all was the sight of the Iroquois Chief, seated upon the
carved Trunk of a giant Tree, tearing the Flesh from the severed Digit with his
Teeth, as one might gobble the Meat of a Chicken’s Leg.

At this point in my narrative, La Comtesse swooned again, and—not to be
outdone—the Honorable Miss Elliott launched into a full-fledg’d fit of the
Hysterics, which fortunately saved me from having to invent the Means of my
Escape from the Savages. Professing myself undone by the Memories of my
Trials, I accepted a Glass of Wine (I was sweating pretty freely by this time), and
escaped from the Party instead, assailed by Invitations on all Sides.

I am much pleased by the Effects of my first Foray. I am further uplifted by
Reflection that should Age or Injury prevent my making a Livelihood by means of
Sword, Plow, or Printing Press, I might still find useful Employment as a
scribbler of Romances.

I expect Marsali will wish to know in great Detail the Appearance of the Gowns
worn by the Ladies present, but I must beg her Forbearance for the Moment. I do
not pretend not to have observ’d the Matter (though I might so protest, if I
thought by so doing to relieve your Mind of Apprehensions concerning any
supposed Vulnerability to the Wiles of Femininity. Knowing your suspicious and
irrational Nature, my Sassenach, I make no such Protestations), but my Hand will
not bear the Strain of recounting such Descriptions now. For the Moment, suffice
it to say that the Gowns were of very rich Stuff, and the Charms of the Ladies
inside them made most apparent by the Style.

My pilfered Candles are burning low, and both my Hand and my Eyes are so
fatigued that I have Difficulty in deciphering my own Words, let alone in forming
them—I can only hope you will be able to read the last Part of this illegible
Epistle. Still, I retire to my inhospitable Bed in good Spirits, encouraged by the
day’s Events.