Under the Same Sky

by Knightley, Diana

  “And so we must go see him.” I ran a hand down his cheek. “We must.” I added, “I have all of these oranges anyway.”

  He smiled, “And I have verra many vitamin packets.”

  “Perfect. Do you know how to get there? The numbers, the time, the date? We don’t want to loop back too close to when you were there.”

  "I can get us tae the date a couple of days after I left for Edinburgh. I think twill be okay.”

  I sat up. I took a deep breath and said, “Then that’s where we need to go.”

  Sixty-six - Kaitlyn

  I woke up on a wide undulating field of grass, a tree here and there, but none over us. I shifted and moaned and felt the familiar hand of my husband on my hip. He was already up, watching.

  As soon as I uttered the sound, he asked, “Are ye ready tae rise? We needs tae be away from this wide open land.”

  “Yes.” I pushed the hair from my eyes and lumbered up to standing and tried to be ready for the world. What world? The 18th century world. Midcentury. This was London.

  We gathered our things and headed south. Magnus said, “Toward the Thames.” It was a cloudy day full of bluster and chill.

  We headed toward the city center and as we neared it the streets filled with people bustling around. There were a great many very poor people. The scents of the city were smoke, and shit, and moldy food and desperation. But then there were the posh, their outfits like the one that Magnus had been wearing before, silk and taffeta with embroidered touches, breeches and shoes with buckles. The men wore wigs and the women looked—

  The dresses were wide and beautiful. I looked down at what I was wearing.

  “I’m not dressed well-enough.”

  Magnus agreed, “Nae, we are neither of us. We need better clothes but I am worried about him, what if he has passed on?”

  I held his arm tighter. “I hope not, my love, I really hope not. But we should go see.” So we headed toward St Thomas Hospital.

  Sixty-seven - Magnus

  A nurse led us through tae the beds.

  She dinna mention if Fraoch was alive and as we were ushered in, I asked Kaitlyn, “Dost it sound like he is still...?”

  “I think so, or they wouldn’t—”

  Fraoch’s bed had more space around it. There was an empty chair pulled beside it. It looked as if he was much the same.

  I gave her the chair and crouched beside Fraoch’s bed. “Hello, friend, how are ye?”

  Fraoch was weak, his eyes dark and sunken. He was verra thin. His beard was scraggly.

  His eyes fluttered open. He weakly said, “Og Maggy, tis you? What does ye...?”

  “Aye, I have brought my wife, Kaitlyn Campbell, tae see ye, and I have brought ye restoratives.” Kaitlyn was pouring a packet of vitamin powder intae one of my bottles for filterin’ water that Chef Zach packed for me. She shook it vigorously and passed it tae me with the top opened up. “I am going tae give ye a drink, Fraoch, tis nae beer. Ye will dislike it greatly, but twill begin tae work on ye.”

  He weakly said, “It hurts, Og Maggy.”

  I pulled his head up with my arm and tipped the bottle tae his mouth. I fretted that a great deal of it spilled from his lips. I said, “Ye needs tae drink like a highlander or ye will never have the taste of whisky again. Are ye good with nae whisky or dost ye want tae drink this medicinal and live tae drink more?”

  “I am past savin’, Og Maggy, daena worry on me—”

  “Nae.”

  Kaitlyn peeled open one of the oranges and divided it intae small sections. She passed me the orange slices and I pushed one intae his mouth. “Ye arna past savin’. I have heard that this orange and this drink might cure ye. If it will, then my Kaitlyn and I will take ye home tae the highlands once ye are well enough tae travel.”

  Fraoch chewed and grimaced. “Och, you are relentless and ye have dragged this beautiful lassie intae it.”

  “Tis my wife, the Kaitlyn Campbell, I have told ye of her.”

  Fraoch coughed, looking very weak and near-death. “Og Maggy, if this is it for me, will ye tell my sister what—”

  “Aye, I will tell her, but twill nae be necessary. Have another slice of orange.” I pushed another slice of orange intae his mouth and made him chew it again.

  Kaitlyn asked, “What does Og Maggy mean?”

  “Young Magnus, he has been callin’ me it since he met me.”

  Kaitlyn smiled and held the orange in her palm, passing me pieces one by one. I hated tae have her in this hospital, full of sickness and disease, but I was grateful she was attending with me.

  Fraoch said, “Your cousin Lady May has been here.”

  “Good, was she a help tae ye?”

  “Aye, I have more space because of it. She has told the physician that she will come every day, so he is verra careful with me.”

  “Have some more of this drink.” I held the edge of the bottle up and had him drink a little more.

  He groaned and scowled at the taste. He said, “Tis the thanks I get? Madame Kaitlyn, did Og Maggy tell ye I have saved his life?”

  Kaitlyn answered, “He did. He said you were the best of men. That’s why we’re here to give you this terrible juice.”

  He lifted his hand and waved it a bit. I was grateful tae see the movement, twas the first sign of any life tae him. “Juice for a life. Twould have been a better trade for whisky.”

  I chuckled. “You get capable of sittin’ on your own, Fraoch, and I will buy ye all the whisky ye want.”

  Kaitlyn said, "Perhaps we might need a bit more health and vigor than sitting up before we feed you whisky, but yes, get well is what we are saying.”

  “Och, ye are as irritatin’ as Og Maggy, I see why he likes ye.”

  I said, “My wife has come with me tae sit at your bedside and ye are insultin’ us. Tis your way as a MacDonald? Or have ye been livin’ too long with the men at the fortress that ye forgot tae be polite?”

  “I remember, friend, ye have come tae force me tae live. I remember. My apologies, Madame Kaitlyn.”

  “No offense taken Fraoch, you’re allowed to say stupid shit when you’re sick.”

  He laughed. “Tis the wit ye told me of, Og Maggy.” He coughed and took a large draft of the orange drink and I began tae see that he would get better.

  Sixty-eight - Kaitlyn

  Magnus left a note for his cousin May, explaining that we planned to get a room at the Bridge Inn.

  We discussed it as we left Fraoch’s bedside, we would stay until he was well. We wanted to go home, but when we went we wanted to be able to stay for a while. We also discussed that we couldn’t remain in London dressed like this.

  Magnus looked up and down the street. “Follow me.”

  He took my hand and led me over the bridge, through the crowds, down a brick road lined with quaint little shops with wooden signage hanging above.

  He came to one with a sign that said, The Tailor, William Shudall. “My uncle used tae get our coats here, years ago. I will get dressed here and then…” He looked up and down the block. “A shop just there, Thomas Ravenscroft. My aunt used tae visit that dressmaker. We can get a dress for you.”

  We entered the tailor shop and waited for a few long minutes. Then Magnus explained his dilemma to the tailor: he needed to be dressed, he had plenty of money, he needed it to happen right now. The tailor finally relented. He had a suit that had been made for a wealthy client and it wasn’t needed for another few weeks. There would be time to make it again.

  I was given a chair to sit near the back of the store while Magnus was taken behind a long heavy curtain to be measured and fitted for the gentleman’s coat. Magnus stuck his head out. “The coat is a blue one, dost ye—”

  “I love you in blue, get that.”

  “He has tae sew me intae it, twill take a bit of time.”

  I waited and waited and tried to look demure and proper sitting in a tailor shop in 1740, watching all of 18th century humanity walk by outside: a pressing, bust
ling, street of shoppers and hawkers, and beggars and gentlemen and ladies. I really wished I had my phone to take a photo, because this was one of those moments. It was like watching a historical movie but with a horrific smell wafting about.

  I admonished myself about how little I knew about history, and promised that I would start reading history, really studying, so when I ended in a place like this, I would know how to behave and dress. In lieu of reading history books, which on second thought sounded like a lot more effort than I could give it while all this drama was going on, I would definitely watch more historical movies, that might help.

  An hour later Magnus emerged. His hair pulled back in a jaunty bow. A tricorn hat on his head. A high collar with a ruffle and lace under his jawline. A pale blue silk coat with embroidered edges down the front, breeches and white socks and little shoes. My eyes went wide.

  “Dost ye like it?”

  “Oh my, Magnus, that is so hot. You are so hot, that is…” I fanned myself. The tailor looked scandalized.

  It came to me then that Magnus looked the gentleman and I was definitely looking like a woman of ill-repute.

  “My turn?”

  “Aye.” Magnus paid for his clothes and a leather duffel-style bag that would carry his sword and some of our other smaller bags inside.

  Out on the street people gawked at Magnus: his height, his new clothes, his hotness, though I’m sure there was a whole other word for it.

  They looked confused by me, a little angry. I was in a Greek-style jacket with wrapped linen cloth skirts. Sandals. My feet were cold.

  Magnus tugged at his cream-colored, embroidered vest and looked generally uncomfortable. “How does it feel?” I asked.

  He tugged at his crotch and jiggled a leg. “Tis bindin’ on my olive tree.”

  I laughed. “A Santorini Island metaphor, I like what you did there, Highlander.”

  Five doors down was the dressmaker. We entered and it was very crowded with women all waiting their turn. Magnus did not fit in the shop. He spoke to the man in charge and paid for my clothes, then said to me, “Lady Campbell, I am leavin’ ye in the capable hands of Master Ravenscroft.” He bowed and I curtseyed, while everyone stared and my heart sank a little because he did literally have to leave me to step out to the street to wait.

  He was on one side of the window, I was on the other. I waited and waited for my turn watching the young women as they were fitted and preened and modeled for each other.

  I pretended like they were Kardashians and that amused me greatly. Occasionally I watched my husband outside, standing firm and erect, the taffeta stretched across his shoulders. He tipped his hat when people walked by. I tried to stand as still, as patient, as mannerly as he did.

  Then it was my turn. I was taken to the area behind the curtain and shocked the staff with my odd layers of fabric over sweatpants. I told them I had just returned from a trip to Greece and they quieted because of the exotic nature of my recent trip, but there was a great deal of frowning as they undressed me.

  They had three dresses that had been created for women who had never returned for them. I asked for blue to match my husband.

  The dress was gorgeous, though not at all my size. They scowled when my shoulders wouldn’t be as small as they needed them to be and they were irritated because my waist wouldn’t go as small as it was expected to be. I hadn’t been trained properly apparently, and when they tried to get it anywhere close enough, I acted like a big baby and couldn’t breathe.

  They gave up and got it tight enough, but seemed disappointed in me overall.

  My bodice was brocade with a piece of stiff embroidered material that pinned on over it. The embroidery was exquisite. My skirt was so wide it was like three of me could fit inside. My cleavage was something to see and literally everyone could see it, just bosom galore, and there was delicate lace on the edges to accentuate it even more.

  To top off my look I was given a weird straw hat, but I did truly need to cover my hair and we had been doing this now for hours, it was time to be finished already.

  I was expected to stay inside until Magnus came in to retrieve me, because that’s the kind of lady this dress made me. His eyes went as wide as mine had at the sight of him. “Och, Lady Campbell, ye are a beauty.”

  I beamed and almost cried.

  And we went out to the street beyond. “I’m so terribly hungry.”

  He bought us some bread and cheese from a vendor and we ate standing together trying to keep the crowds from whisking us off away down the street.

  I joked, “City life is exhausting, huh?”

  “Aye, we are wantin’ a carriage, but they are nae much better. Either we are jostled in the fresh air, or inside a wee box.”

  “This is fresh air?”

  “Tis why m’lady has a handkerchief, tae cover her dainty nose.”

  He put his hand on the small of my back and directed me through the crowds.

  I’m not going to lie, I freaking loved how his protectiveness made me feel.

  London was beautiful, historical, quaint, amazing, and horribly disgusting. It was noisy, crowded, stinky, filthy, and freaking fascinating.

  The only saving grace was that with the new very fancy clothes people deferred space to us and seemed generally afraid to get near Magnus, as if his wealth and power gave him a license to punish.

  I was ignored. People stepped out of our way, looked askance, gave us room. It took about five minutes before our chins went higher, our backs straighter. It was all a part to play: ours was rich, landed gentry. Their’s was the riffraff of the street.

  But the mere act of walking was still tough. Despite what the women who dressed me thought, my bodice was very tight. There was also the air thing or lack of. The streets were cobblestone and I couldn’t see my feet, and god only knows what my skirts were dragging through. Puddles were plentiful and what were they? The smell of feces was ripe. And coal smoke. And a rotting river.

  We neared the bridge. The crowds were full of many more men, a port, workers, sailors. I swear to god most of them looked like pirates. There were a lot of filthy stinky people with menacing stares. I went quiet and clung to Magnus, while he led me up the bridge with a protective arm around me. When we got to the top, I was out of breath. “Can we stop for a moment?”

  We clung to the rail looking out over a river so full of ships that it was a marvel, really, boats everywhere, docks, barrels and boxes, buckets, plus the smell of rot. It was pretty astonishing to be in this gorgeous dress looking down on it all.

  I wrapped tighter around my husband’s arm and kissed his shoulder. “So you were here before, just off a boat from coursing the ocean?”

  “Aye, I pushed a cart, much like that one.” He pointed at a small vendor cart. “With Fraoch inside tae the hospital. I was verra hungry and near sick with exhaustion.”

  “And then what did you do?”

  “I gave all my money tae the doctor tae watch on him for me, twas five days ago by my calculations of this date, and then I walked tae see my Cousin May at Ham House.”

  “How far away was it?”

  “From the hospital tae Ham House was over three hours tae walk. London is verra vast.”

  “Oh,” I said, as the enormity of all that he had done truly hit me. Everything he had done. The scale of it all.

  Sixty-nine - Magnus

  We walked for a long time, each within our own thoughts. The streets here were less crowded. There was a park and fewer shops. It was evening and we were lookin’ forward to the bed we would be fallin’ intae even if it would be an uncomfortable 18th century bed.

  Kaitlyn slowed and turned tae face me. She looked up at me with a tilt of her chin.

  I asked, “What are ye about, mo reul-iuil?”

  “I’m very impressed with you.” She smoothed across the front of my coat. “I don’t know if I tell you this enough, and I don’t want you to feel embarrassed when I do, but I am very proud that you are the man you are. Reall
y. You take my breath away.”

  “Och, either ye are verra romantic feelin’ toward me or yer bodice is too tight on ye.”

  “I mean it. Both those things are also true, but I mean it. I love you. I’m so very proud of you. You’re a good man, a patient man.” Someone jostled by her and knocked her toward me. “And you are a kind man.” She wrapped my hands in her own. “I love that so much about you. When you are feeling worried about the things you’ve done or need to do, remember that I love you because of your strength here.” She placed a hand over my heart as her lower lids filled with tears. “And I just wanted you to know that’s how I feel about you.”

  I pulled her intae my arms and kissed her, though the brim of our hats caused some difficulties. I said, “I am verra—”

  “Don’t. You say beautiful, wonderful, romantic things to me all the time. Let this one moment be me, in my big fancy dress, standing on a cobblestone street in a puddle of urine, let this be me, telling you how much you mean to me.”

  “Aye, tis a verra romantic moment.” Someone jostled against me as they hurried past.

  She said, “Well, what I’m learning is we have to take the moment when it comes, because we never know, right? So this is me telling you, I love that you’re the kind of man who would push a cart through this muck and mire to get a friend to a hospital. You crossed the world in a ship to come home to me. You lived in Greece without me for weeks to rescue me. You’re my hero.”

  “Thank ye, Kaitlyn.” Then I added, “You winna allow me tae say anythin’ in return? I am verra proud of—”

  “See? You can’t even help yourself. I’m going to make you keep that compliment in your back pocket.”

  I pulled at the front of my breeches. “I daena have room, my breeches are verra wee.”

  She laughed, “They are accentuating your cannon very nicely. It’s making me quite warm.” She fanned her face with her handkerchief.