A Breath of Snow and Ashes by Diana Gabaldon

her cap was awry and her pale face looked flushed, even by firelight.
    “Aye, weel, I think he’s no much bothered at the thought. See him?” Hilda nodded past the beer-drinkers, and Brianna had no trouble picking out Mr. Wemyss’s head, his hair pale and flyaway as his daughter’s. He was in animated conversation with a stout woman in apron and cap, who nudged him intimately in the ribs, laughing.
    As she watched, though, Ute McGillivray made her way toward them, followed by a tall blond woman, who hesitated a little, hands folded under her apron.
    “Oh, who’s that?” Inga craned her neck like a goose, and her sister elbowed her, scandalized.
    “Lass das, du alte Ziege!
Mutti’
s looking this way!”
    Lizzie had half-risen to her knees, peering.
    “Who—?” she said, sounding like an owl. Her attention was momentarily distracted by Manfred, who dropped beside her in the straw, grinning amiably.
    “How is it, then,
Herzchen
?” he said, putting an arm round her waist and trying to kiss her.
    “Who’s that, Freddie?” she said, adroitly eluding his embrace and pointing discreetly toward the blond woman, who was smiling shyly as
Frau
Ute introduced her to Mr. Wemyss.
    Manfred blinked, swaying a little on his knees, but answered readily enough.
    “Oh. That’s
Fraulein
Berrisch. Pastor Berrisch’s sister.”
    Inga and Hilda made little cooing sounds of interest; Lizzie frowned a little, but then relaxed, seeing her father tilt back his head to address the newcomer;
Fraulein
Berrisch was nearly as tall as Brianna herself.
    Well, that explains why she’s still a Fraulein,
Brianna thought with sympathy. The woman’s hair was streaked with gray, where it showed beneath her cap, and she had a rather plain face, though her eyes held a calm sweetness.
    “Oh, a Protestant, then,” Lizzie said, in a dismissive tone that made it clear that the
Fraulein
could hardly be considered as a potential mate for her father.
    “Aye, but she’s a nice woman, for a’ that. Come and dance, Elizabeth.” Manfred had clearly lost any interest in Mr. Wemyss and the
Fraulein;
he pulled Lizzie, protesting, to her feet, and propelled her toward the circle of dancers. She went reluctantly, but Brianna saw that by the time they had reached the dance, Lizzie was laughing at something Manfred had said, and he was smiling down at her, the firelight glowing on the handsome planes of his face. They were a nice-looking couple, she thought, better-matched in appearance than Senga and her Heinrich—who was tall, but spindly and rather hatchet-faced.
    Inga and Hilda had begun arguing with each other in German, allowing Brianna to devote herself to the wholehearted consumption of the excellent supper. Hungry as she was, she would have enjoyed almost anything, but the tart, crisp sauerkraut and the sausages, bursting with juice and spices, were a rare treat.
    It was only as she wiped the last of the juice and grease from her wooden plate with a chunk of corn bread that she cast a glance at the cooper’s shop, thinking guiltily that she ought perhaps to have saved some for Roger. He was so kind, taking thought for poor Ronnie’s feelings. She felt a rush of pride and affection for him. Maybe she should go over there and rescue him.
    She had put down her plate and was sorting out her skirts and petticoats, in preparation for putting this plan into action, when she was forestalled by a pair of small figures who came weaving out of the darkness.
    “Jem?” she said, startled. “What’s the matter?”
    The flames gleamed on Jemmy’s hair like freshly minted copper, but the face under it was white, and his eyes enormous dark pools, fixed and staring.
    “Jemmy!”
    He turned a blank face to her, said “Mama?” in a small, uncertain voice, then sat down suddenly, his legs collapsing under him like rubber bands.
    She was dimly aware of Germain, swaying like a sapling in a high breeze, but had no attention to spare for him. She seized Jemmy,