Summary: Jamie takes his pregnant wife to the stones so she and the child can survive in the future. She is only 2 months along at this point. She returns promptly, only to find that somehow she went back too far, and has to relive her experiences...
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~~~~~
A messenger appeared at the side door, and whispered to Colonel Richmond, then stood behind his chair waiting.
"Mistress Beechum, I understand that you have considerable experience in tending to the wounded. Coincidentally, we have such a case as we speak. Would you be so kind as to lend a hand?"
"It would be my pleasure."
Richmond clapped his hands. "Jolly good." Turning to the private who delivered the message, he said, "Creighton, take this lady straightaway to the surgery to assist Dr. Davis."
The private saluted, and beckoning to me, strode out the door, with me following at his heels.
~~~~~
It was a familiar scene; the man's arm was gangrenous and needed amputation. I helped the good doctor, handing him the essential instruments required, and administering ether through a fabric mask.
As we cleared away the sponges and instruments, I asked the surgeon how he came to utilize the ether as an anesthetic. "May I ask about the anesthesia you used?"
"Ah, yes, of course. I trained under August Sigmund Frobenius. He taught me the effects of diethyl ether, and I am forever in his debt."
Listening with interest, I replied, "Your patients as well, I imagine."
Dr. Davis removed his blood-stained apron, and said, "It does tend to offer a less than grisly prospect to an otherwise necessary task."
With the surgery completed, the patient was transported elsewhere. The doctor thanked me for my services, and I was escorted back to the assembly room. Sadly, my respite from fear had been spent. I felt the bile rise in my throat, for I knew the English soldiers could no longer act as a buffer. The gentlemen were gone, and replaced by one, heartless, pitiful excuse for a man—Randall.
~~~~
He sat in the room, awaiting my arrival, legs stretched out, feet crossed at the ankles, and firmly perched on the top of the table. "Well, well, well, we meet again, do we? Most unfortunate for you, I'm afraid."
I slowly sank into a chair. "Whatever do you mean?"
"By all means, let me clarify. I mean to say; don't you find it rather peculiar that the Highlanders would feed and clothe you safely behind the stone walls of Leoch? Why it's preposterous, unless of course, you are working for them, in a little espionage, perhaps?"
I swallowed hard. "Captain Randall ... as you well know, the Duke of Sandringham has need of someone to apprise him of any plans or movements of the Laird, MacKenzie."
Randall canted his head, a smirk upon his lips. "I'm intimately acquainted with the duke, and am not aware of a lady furnishing him with details of a covert nature."
