Seven Stones to Stand or Fall (Outlander)(194)

Hal’s hand tightened on Minnie’s; he hadn’t let go since they’d entered the pub, and she twitched, not quite pulling away. He looked down at her.

“Sorry,” he said, and loosened—but didn’t release—his grip.

“She’s wis child,” said the minister, in a reproachful tone.

“I know that,” Hal said, tightening his hold once more. “Get on with it, please. At once.”

“Why?” said Minnie, mildly provoked. “Do you have somewhere special you have to be?”

“No,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her. “But I want the child to be legitimate, and I think you may give birth to it at any moment.”

“I will not,” she said, offended. “You know I’m no more than six months gone!”

“You look like a—” Catching a glimpse of her eyes at this point, he shut his mouth abruptly, coughed, and turned his attention once more to the minister. “Do please continue, sir.”

The man nodded, blew his nose again, and motioned to his wife, who bent to rummage beneath the bar, eventually emerging with a battered prayer book, its cover spotted with kronk rings.

Possessed of this talisman, the minister seemed to take heart and straightened up a little.

“You heb witnesses?” he asked Hal.

“Yes,” said Hal, impatient. “He’s—Harry? Dammit, he went out to pay the carriage. Stay here!” he commanded Minnie, and, dropping her hand, strode out.

The minister looked dubiously after him, then at Minnie. The end of his nose was moist and scarlet, and tiny veins empurpled his cheeks.

“You are willing to marry dis man?” he asked. “I see he is rich, but maybe better to take a poor man who will treat you well.”

“Ze is zes maanden zwanger, idioot,” said the minister’s wife. “She’s six months gone with child.” “Is dit die schurk die je zwanger heeft gemaakt?” She removed the pipe from the corner of her mouth and gestured from the door to Minnie’s belly: “He’s the no-good who got you pregnant?” A hefty kick from the occupant made Minnie grunt and double over.

“Ja, is die schurk,” she assured the woman, glancing over her shoulder to the door, where Hal’s shadow in the window was visible, a larger shadow that must be Harry behind him.

The men entered with a blast of winter air and the woman exchanged a look with her husband. Both shrugged, and the minister opened the book and began thumbing through it in a helpless sort of way.

Harry smiled reassuringly at Minnie and patted her hand before lining up solidly beside Hal. Oddly enough, she did feel reassured. If a man like Harry was Hal’s good friend, then perhaps—just perhaps—she wasn’t wrong about him.

Not that it would make any difference at this point, she thought, feeling a strangely pleasant shiver run up her back. It felt as though she were about to jump off a cliff but feeling a great pair of wings unfurling at her back, even as she looked out into the wind.

“Mag ik uw volledige naam alstublieft?” “What are your names, please?” The landlady had pulled out a ratty register book—it might be the accounts for the pub, Minnie thought, looking at the stained pages. But the woman turned to a clean, blank page at the back of the book and dipped her quill, expectant.

Hal looked blank for a moment, then said firmly, “Harold Grey.”

“Only two names?” Minnie said, surprised. “No titles?”

“No,” he said. “It’s not the Duke of Pardloe or even the Earl of Melton you’re marrying. Just me. Sorry to disappoint you, if that’s what you thought,” he added, in a tone that actually sounded apologetic.

“Not at all,” she said politely.

“My middle name’s Patricius,” he blurted. “Harold Patricius Gerard Bleeker Grey.”

“Really?”

“Ik na gat niet allemaal opschrijven,” the woman objected. “I’m not going to write all that.”

“Bleeker—dat is Nederlands,” the minister said, in surprised approval. “Your family is Dutch?”

“My father’s mother’s mother,” Hal said, equally surprised.

The woman shrugged and wrote down the words, repeating, “Harold…Bleeker…Grey,” to herself. “En u?” she asked, looking up at Minnie.

Minnie would have thought her heart couldn’t go any faster, but she was wrong. Loose as her stays were, she felt light-headed, and before she could gather enough breath to speak, Hal stepped in.

“She’s called Wilhelmina Rennie,” he told the woman.

“Actually, it’s Minerva Wattiswade,” she said, getting a solid breath. Hal looked down at her, frowning.

“Wattiswade? What’s Wattiswade?”

“Not what,” she said, with exaggerated patience. “Who. Me, in fact.”

This appeared to be too much for Hal, who looked to Harry for help.

“She means her name isn’t Rennie, old man. It’s Wattiswade.”

“Nobody’s named Wattiswade,” Hal objected, transferring the frown back to Minnie. “I’m not marrying you under an assumed name.”

“I’m not bloody marrying you under an assumed name!” she said. “Gah!”