Outlander: The Standing Stones

Winter

I had naively supposed that an engagement was an engagement. It was feeling more like the establishment of a treaty between two foreign powers.

I'm an Egyptologist, I know all about dynastic unions, but had never been involved in one, especially where I was one of the parties.

Take the dowry, for example. I am not rich, but you could say I'm comfortably well off. I own houses in Chicago and Luxor. My brokerage account has recovered from the recession and is back to six figures. I make a very good salary at the university, I also teach part time at the American University in Cairo. I do speaking engagements, and have done one television special. I am not a well-known face, but I am respected in my field.

Here this means nothing. Even if I could get to my money, it would be worthless. In the eyes of Georgie's family, I am educated, yet penniless. I would be worth only so much as I would have been able to sell from my last dig. So, for them, they are being generous and allowing him to marry a pauper, which in reality I'm not.

The marriage contract is a strange affair. Given my financial straits, Georgie has insisted that a generous sum be made available to me if he dies. An extra sum is added to that for each child I bear that survives infancy. Though it feels like no more than a business proposition, I am grateful that he is looking out for me. If I were widowed, I could be left desolate and at the mercy of his family. As it is, I will be financially independent and can go anywhere I like.

I have acquired a body guard and two maids, none of which I want-I think I've been assigned babysitters. I am insisting on staying in my room until my marriage—there is no sense in moving me to a fancier one. If Georgie insists on seeing me at night, let him climb up to the third floor. I am comfortable where I am.

There is a flurry of dress and shoe making going on. I'm happy with the homespun and wool I've been wearing, and my lady's old gowns. My Doc Martins are probably better made and more comfortable than any cobbler could produce, but I'm stuck. I'm going to be the young laird's lady and must keep up appearances.

The feminine part of me is enjoying the dress making, for the fabrics if nothing else. My wedding dress is a confection of silver and white brocade, lined with white fur. There's quilted petticoats for warmth made of silk, and my stockings and shoes are white and silver. There are dresses for formal occasions and dresses of wool and linen for everyday. I have even had a cherry red silk dress made because Georgie loves the color on me, and I must admit that it flatters my hair and skin.

Though I don't want to think about it, I know that I will go straight to the standing stone at Inverness if something happens to him. I have no idea how time will be affected, but I want to try to go home if something does. I do not belong here, but I am in love with a boy who is on the verge of manhood who has somehow won my heart. I must stay here for a while, but I don't think about things yet. When I get too scared, I think about Georgie.

Jamie must be gone, I have not seen him since he said goodbye to me in the tack room. I put Himself on the lunge line every day, despite his objections he basically behaves himself. It's a shame they quit riding him, he would be quite a nice horse. With luck, maybe I'll be able to make him rideable again, and ride him a little every day just to exercise him, like they do at breeding farms.

Georgie seems determined to get me pregnant, but I'm not, not for lack of trying. So far I'm not worried, there are no barren women on either side of my family that I know of. I don't know if coming through the portal affected me, but my body seems normal. Call me old fashioned, but I'd rather get pregnant after my wedding, not before. And somehow I have faith that it will happen. I feel rather serenely about that, and I don't consider myself an overly intuitive person.