Diana Gabaldon · @Writer_DG
29th Mar 2013 from TwitLonger
#DailyLines #WRITTENInMYOwnHEARTSBlood #Book8 #ThisisNathanaelGreene #WashingtonsQuartermasterGeneral #adviceonmarriage
“I confess I’m surprised to find you in want of advice regarding marriage, Colonel,” Greene said, having first drunk his fill and then upended a bucketful of water luxuriously over his head. He blinked water off his lashes, shook himself like a dog, and handed the bucket to Jamie, who nodded thanks. “I should have thought your own union most harmonious. In spite of the way Mrs. Fraser addressed you last night,” he added, grinning. “What, may I ask, is the meaning of the expression, ‘Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ’?”
“Ye’d have to ask her. It’s not my own marriage I’m worrit for, though,” Jamie said, grunting a little as he pulled up a fresh full bucket—hand over hand, for the windlass had rotted away and he’d been obliged to fetch a rope from his saddle-bag. “Will ye ken a young scout named Ian Murray? He’s my nephew.”
“Murray. Murray…” Greene looked blank for a moment, but then comprehension dawned. “Oh, him! Your nephew? I thought he was an Indian. Yes, drat him. Cost me a guinea on that race. My wife won’t be happy about that at all. Not that she’s happy at the moment, regardless,” he added with a sigh. Evidently the letter _had_ been domestic.
“Well, I might persuade him to give it back to ye,” Jamie said, suppressing a smile, “if ye might be able to help him to wed.”
He raised the bucket overhead and gave himself over to a moment of joy as the drench of water quenched the heat. He drew one deep, grateful breath of coolness, tasting of the dank stones at the bottom of the well, and likewise shook himself.
“He means to marry a Quaker lass,” he said, opening his eyes. “I kent that ye were a Friend yourself, havin’ heard ye speak to Mrs. Hardman when we met. So I wondered, maybe, if ye could tell me just what’s needed, in the way of requirement for such a marriage?”