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The Story Begins
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Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God: Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried: the Lord do so to me, and more also, if ought but death part thee and me. Ruth 1:16-17
I stared at the words on the page before me. They seemed so profound. To be able to love someone so deeply was something I had always wanted and craved. I glanced at the band on my ring finger before I clenched the hand into a fist. I had convinced myself that I had found what I had been looking for, but I think I was so caught up in the idea of love that I never actually allowed myself to find it. I had settled for what I thought was love. I knew now that I was wrong. But that didn't really matter now.
I closed my Bible and relaxed against the pillows on my bed. The book of Ruth always managed to bring me comfort and was my favorite book of the Bible. Perhaps it was the fact that we shared the name that made my connection deeper. Although, now I seemed to further understand Ruth's perspective having lost a husband myself. My brow furrowed. I knew I should feel sadder about Stephen's death. But I didn't. I hadn't truly needed him the way a wife needs a husband. Besides, the last few months had been rather hellish with him needing constant care and attention and as the doting wife, it had been my job to see to it. It wasn't that I minded looking after him. It was the fact that I knew my life would never be fulfilled the way I wished it to be.
I glanced around the room. It had been Stephen's boyhood room. Stephen's father, Stephen, for whom he was named, had insisted that we reside in his home when Stephen's health began to decline more rapidly. While it certainly had made the burden a bit easier, it came with its own challenges. The first challenge being that the home was in Inverness, Scotland. Aside from some schooling and the war, I had only ever known life in the United States. The country my ancestors had fought to build. The second being the only people I knew were members of his family, most of whom were hardly a source of refuge. And the third, everyone was still recovering from the war. No place seemed to have been safe from its turmoil. Then again, war was nothing new to my family.
Once more, I opened my Bible, but to the front cover where my family tree had been written. I could trace my lineage back to the American Revolution where Major Benjamin Tallmadge along with his wife, Lydia Woodhull-Tallmadge had secretly gathered intelligence essential to defeating the British. The Culper Spy Ring. Not many people knew of it, but I was certainly proud to have descended from Ben and Lydia especially given their contribution to the fight for freedom. And their love story was one to be envied. I know I certainly did. Their story probably nurtured my unrealistic expectations concerning love. I yearned for a love like theirs. Or at least I had. I wasn't sure what I believed about love anymore.
A small knock came at the door. Before I could even tell the person on the other side to enter, the door opened and quickly shut again. Before me stood Charlotte Arbuckle, more affectionately known as Lottie, in her nightgown, robe, and slippers standing with her back against my door. She stood there for a moment as if she were frozen in place before she ran over to my bed and hopped onto it beside me.
Lottie had dark brown curly hair, chocolate brown eyes, a warm smile, and had the pleasure of being my closest friend and confidant. We had met at the London (Royal Free Hospital) School of Medicine for Women. While we both attended medical school for completely different reasons, we found the company of each other quite enjoyable and became fast friends after a small hiccup in our early acquaintance.
It was also through Lottie I had met her brother Stephen. He had seemed to take quite a fancy to me and I was quite flattered by the attention, having at the time been recently orphaned at the time of his proposal. The thought of Lottie as a true sister was quite appealing, especially when she was the closest thing I had to family.
"How are you tonight, sister?" Lottie asked softly with a small sympathetic expression on her face as she took hold of my hand. I appreciated that she still called me sister, despite the fact that our connection was no longer.
"I'm fine, Lottie," I responded gently patting her hand with my free one, my American accent contrasting her Scottish one. "I promise."
I glanced at her and attempted a reassuring smile. I could tell that she didn't believe me, but she said nothing more. She just gave me a curt nod and squeezed my hand once more. "I-I need to brush my hair," I blurted suddenly before I got to my feet and walked to the small vanity in the room. I wasn't sure why that burst from me or why brushing my hair seemed the next best course of action. Then again, I wasn't sure about a lot of things these days.
I sat down in front of the vanity and picked up my hairbrush. The vanity had belonged to Stephen and Lottie's mother when she was a girl. Stephen had given it to me as a wedding present. It hardly felt right to accept such a personal gift, but it also seemed wrong to turn it down. It was one of the few times Stephen had actually tried. I sighed. My heart felt heavy. To most people, it would seem obvious that I should leave. But I had nowhere else to go.
In the mirror, I could see my bright blue eyes on the brink of tears. But the tears wouldn't be for Stephen. Not wanting to dwell on my near tears, I began to pull my hairbrush through my blonde waves, which were quite snarly. I hadn't brushed my hair in the last few days. There hardly seemed a point in doing such things these days.
Lottie, upon seeing me struggle in the battle with my hair, walked over to me and placed her hand gently on my shoulder. "Let me," she said softly before she took the hairbrush from my hands.
Gently, Lottie began to brush my blonde locks. I closed my eyes. I hadn't had someone brush my hair in quite some time. I couldn't help but remember when I was little. My father, who was parenting on his own, would brush my hair for me. He did not like it when I would squirm. A small smile played across my face as I tried to picture what my father's face looked like. It wasn't hard to imagine the annoyed expression on his face. I had seen it enough growing up.
"Ruthie," Lottie whispered as she paused from brushing my hair.
My eyes fluttered open and I turned to look at her. "Yes?"
"Perhaps we could go out tomorrow," Lottie suggested as turned my head so that she could continue to brush my hair. "I don't believe in all the time you've been here, you've seen the Scottish Highlands from beyond the fence."
"Well, I saw some of it on the drive here," I pointed out. "And when I need to run to the shop."
She made a derisive noise in her throat I couldn't mimic. "That doesn't count," she said. "That isn't the Scottish Highlands. The Highlands are rich with history."
"Which I know nothing of," I chuckled softly. "Now, if we were in the U.S., I could bore you to death about the American Revolution and maybe even the Civil War."
"But you're here in the Highlands, meaning I get to bore you." Lottie smiled as she pulled a tendril of my hair straight before she let it bounce back up into a wave. "Or at the very least, distract you from your thoughts. Would it help persuade you if I take you to see a castle? I don't recall there being many of those in the U.S., aye?"
"If there are any, I haven't seen them," I responded with a wry smile.
"It's settled then. We're going."
My brow furrowed. "Hang on, aren't you supposed to be meeting, whats-his-name, tomorrow?" I couldn't remember the man's name, but Lottie's father had been trying to get the two of them to meet for months now. All I knew about him was that he was wealthy and that her father, rather old-fashioned, was trying to marry his daughter off for money. So far, she had refused. Lottie was quite stubborn. I was told it was a trait passed on from her mother.
Lottie rolled her eyes. "Family comes first," she said before giving my shoulder a squeeze. "Besides, if the man is as interested as Father says, then he can wait a little longer." Especially if he wants my money, I knew she was thinking without even saying anything.
"If you say so."
"I do. Now, would you like me to plait your hair?"
I nodded my head. Lottie softly smiled and ran her fingers through my hair before beginning the single braid down my back. I was thankful to have her there to braid my hair. It certainly wasn't an easy task to do on one's own. My father had done it for me when I was little. When I was old enough to do it on my own, I would often lay on my bed with my hair dangling over the side. I much preferred someone else doing it.
I attempted to stifle a yawn. Lotte looked at me and shook her head. "I know you haven't been sleeping much," she said softly with her hands resting on her shoulders.
"I've been sleeping fine," I said, my tone rather short and irritable. But we both knew her statement to be the accurate one.
"It isn't a criticism, Ruthie," she sighed. "I only mentioned it because I thought you might like to brush up on your Scottish history before tomorrow. If so, we should head to Father's study and find you a book."
I could tell she was trying to be helpful. I inhaled deeply and nodded my head. "Yes, I think a history book might be the perfect thing to put me to sleep." We both chuckled at my response. Lottie gave my shoulder a squeeze. I grabbed my robe from the back of the chair and pulled it on before I followed Lottie into the corridor.
I trailed behind Lottie until we came to her father's study. Lottie knocked once and when no one answered, she opened the door. She grabbed my arm and pulled me inside before she quietly shut the door behind us. I leaned against the door and examined the room. I had been here before, but it suddenly felt like we weren't supposed to be here. Like we were children sneaking in where we were forbidden, rather than like the twenty-one-year-old grown women we actually were.
Lottie walked right up to a shelf and plucked a book before she tossed it to me. It was a blue book on Scotland's history. "You weren't kidding, were you?" I chuckled.
She turned and looked at me over her shoulder. "I would never kid about such a thing as Scotland's history. Those who do not learn history are doomed to repeat it."
I rolled my eyes and rested my hands on my hips. "And pray tell, what history are we going to repeat wandering the Scottish Highlands?"
Lottie smirked. "How should I know? It hasn't happened yet."
I sighed and shook my head. "Fine, I'll attempt it. But I shall make no promises as to how far I'll get." I thumbed through the pages of the book. The print was quite small. There was no way I would even make a dent in the book before we left in the morning. But I would make a valiant effort, hoping to tire myself enough to fall asleep. While I had told Lottie otherwise, I couldn't remember the last time I had actually had a decent night's sleep.
Lottie traced a finger over the books as she continued her search. By this time, I myself had moved from my spot near the door and was browsing the shelves. I didn't know the next time I would be in this room, so I figured I might as well have several books to keep me occupied for my stay. Not that I was planning on leaving any time soon, but I still felt very much like a visitor in this place than a member of the family. Being here felt like an extended stay, not forever.
I was rather taken aback by one of the books I found. Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. My brow furrowed as I plucked it off the shelf and turned toward Lottie. "Your father reads Austen?"
Lottie took the book from me and examined it before she gave it back to me with a chuckle. "It belonged to my mother. I doubt he's ever opened it. He likely keeps it because he can be somewhat sentimental."
Sentimental. That description didn't quite match the Stephen Arbuckle I knew, but Lottie knew him much better than I did. I would just have to take her word for it. I would have liked to have borrowed it, but I didn't want to anger Mr. Arbuckle, by taking such a treasure.
I moved to put it back on the shelf, but Lottie reached out and put her hand on my arm. "You can borrow it. It's not that sentimental. Father probably has at least a hundred books that once belonged to my mother. So, go on. I insist."
I nodded my head and placed Pride and Prejudice on top of the Highland history book. Lottie continued her search. I was rather content with my finds, seeing as I had a few of my personal books in my room beside my Bible. Lottie, on the other hand, had at least half a dozen books laden in her arms. My brow furrowed. "Do I want to know?" I asked her.
"Probably not," she chuckled.
I left it at that. I trusted that she would tell me when she was good and ready. Which I certainly hoped was soon, because I was quite curious. Lottie then motioned toward the door with her head. I opened it, letting Lottie leave first before I shut the door after us. Our bedrooms were on opposite sides of the study, so I bid Lottie goodnight and scurried to my room.
I set the books down on my bedside table and knelt on the floor beside my bed to pray like I had been taught to do since I was a child. My father had seen to raise me in his Protestant faith and the Catholic faith of my mother, going to church twice on Sundays. While that would likely confuse most people, my mother's faith had been important to her and my father wanted me to be able to have that connection to her. While my own leanings were neither purely Protestant nor Catholic, I did believe there was a God. I believed that he sent his Son to die for the sins of the world. And I also believed that one day, I would be reunited with the mother I had never met, but knew loved me.
I closed my eyes and folded my hands on my bed before addressing God, not feeling it necessary for any saint intermediate. I thanked God for getting me through another day and for all he provided for me. I wasn't very specific, but I knew to be grateful for those things. I prayed for Stephen's soul and I prayed that God would guide my next steps as far as my life was concerned.
To be honest, I wasn't sure what was next for my life. While most would still consider me young, I felt like I had already lived enough for several lifetimes. At this point, I figured I was ready to begin my life as a spinster. But the question was where. While I was still mourning, I knew I would be welcome to remain in the Arbuckle home. After that, however, I wasn't sure I wanted to remain. Perhaps, I ought to make my way back to America. Not that I felt there was anything there for me. Yes, I certainly needed to Lord's guidance.
After an amen, I flipped my braid over my shoulder and crawled into my bed. Lottie was right. I hadn't been sleeping. My mind just couldn't seem to stop racing. I knew the old adage of counting sheep, but I could never make it past a dozen sheep without growing bored and my mind wandering elsewhere. I had tried counting my blessings, but my mind always wandered to my losses: mother, father, Stephen, my home, the war. I didn't enjoy crying myself to sleep, but sometimes it seemed the only thing that worked.
I reached for the history book on the Scottish Highlands, willing to try another approach to falling asleep. While my words to Lottie about history-making me fall asleep had been in jest, the truth was my family was richly steeped in American history, so I loved to learn about it. Although, I must confess my downfall in being only interested in American history, much to the dismay of my teachers growing up. While I could tell you that there was a man named Charlemange and I knew he was important, I had no idea why. I had heard of the Magna Carta before, but I hadn't any more knowledge than it was important. While in school, I had no foundation to base my knowledge on, like I had my American Revolution knowledge. I had never been beyond America at the time, so I hadn't really seen the point of it. Perhaps having lived in the Highlands for some time now would help me care more.
So, I leaned back and opened the book, hoping to learn something about the Highlands before tomorrow's adventure.
Author's Note: Hi! I wasn't going to post this so soon, but I wanted to help cheer up a friend dealing with the loss of a grandparent. So, here it is. Thank you to anyone who took the time to read this. I know most people ship Jamie with Claire. Ruthie's story starting out won't be that much different from Claire's but things will change. As much as I love Jamie/Claire, Claire annoys me quite a bit, so this was my stab at rectifying my being annoyed.
A few housekeeping things:
Lydia Woodhull-Tallmadge is my OC featured in my TURN Washington's Spies fanfic. For those of you who haven't seen TURN, it's based in the American Revolutionary War.
You can find more about Ruthie on my tumblr accounts: ruthietallmadgefraser is for this story and missjanuarylily is my author blog.
Ruthie's faceclaim: Hannah New as Eleanor Guthrie (Black Sails)
Lottie's faceclaim: Heida Reed as Elizabeth (Poldark)