Chapter 15: Revelations of the Bridal Chamber
In this chapter, well. Oh my.
"I want this marriage consummated wi' no uncertainty whatsoever,"
said Dougal, on behalf of the prurient audience. "Furthermore, it is very important that this marriage is absolutely necessary for your survival, so you can have tons of adulterous sex without feeling bad about it," I added in my head.
How in the name of God did this happen? I asked myself some time later. Six weeks ago, I had been innocently collecting wildflowers on a Scottish hill to take home to my husband. I was now shut in the room of a rural inn, awaiting a completely different husband, whom I scarcely knew, with firm orders to consummate a forced marriage, at risk of my life and liberty.
This is an important passage because of the way that Gabaldon frames Claire's "before" and "after." In 1945, Claire was innocent and wholesome. She even remembers her botanical hobby in terms of pleasing Frank ("to take home to my husband"), despite the fact that Frank actually had zero interest in her plants. Collecting wildflowers was representative of the way Claire was reshaping her life to serve Frank — trading in nursing work for a ladylike hobby to occupy her mind while she hosted tea parties for his students and colleagues. She may remember it differently, but I have the luxury of flipping back to Chapter 1 at my leisure.
Claire uses very different terms when she thinks about 1743; her marriage to Jamie is all about being "shut in," "orders," "forced," etc. Because she has no choice in the matter, she cannot hold herself accountable for her actions, and neither can the reader. This is something of a narrative cop-out. Circumstances give Claire permission to cheat on Frank, allowing us all to enjoy this erotic adventure without condemning Claire. We like Claire! We don't want to disapprove of her! So Diana Gabaldon has given us permission to root for Claire and Jamie here by forcing them into sex, rather than allowing them to choose.
Of course, this whole setup assumes that we should disapprove of Claire if she were to decide to sleep with Jamie without the pressure of impending imprisonment/torture/rape/death. Which is some bullshit. Absolving Claire by taking away her power to make choices for herself rubs me the wrong way. It reminds me of discussions about abortion that devolve into questions of "well, what if she was raped?" As if women who are forced into sex deserve care and sympathy, but women who have sex for fun are contemptible whores. I think this would be a more interesting book if Claire slept with Jamie because she wanted to, not because she was forced to. A more risky book, I suppose. Grumble.
Not that Claire doesn't want to sleep with Jamie. The textual evidence of previous chapters leaves that in little doubt. But nothing makes this book seem more "romance novel" to me than the fact that it takes some byzantine plotting to get our protagonists into bed in a way that robs them both of accountability. The flip side — the implication that choosing to have sex for fun/comfort/companionship would make these characters less sympathetic — is obnoxious.
Despite all that, there is a lot to like about this chapter! In particular, the attention paid to the extreme awkwardness of sex with a new partner was well done. The framing may be disappointing, but the content is textured.
I eyed him dubiously. I supposed it would be harder if I found him unattractive; in fact, the opposite was true. Still, I had not slept with any man but Frank in over eight years.
I appreciate this reminder that Claire was not a virgin on either of her wedding nights. It goes a long way toward smoothing the feathers ruffled by the forced marriage plot.
"Tell me about your husband," said Jamie.
A surprise move! But one that shows Jamie's ability to read a situation and his basic kindness.
"Look ye, lass. We have three or four days together here."
Goodness. I would not have expected such generosity from Dougal.
"We have a bit of time to talk, and get over being scairt of each other." This blunt appraisal of our situation relaxed me a little bit.
God knows Claire is all for bluntness. In fact, I'm a little surprised when she demurs a few times here, for example, not pressing Jamie on the question of his virginity. Simple curiosity has always been enough motivation for her in the past.
By mutual agreement, they devise a new new wedding vow for themselves, as expressed by Jamie:
"I'll ask nothing of ye that ye canna give me. But what I would ask of ye — when you do tell me something, let it be the truth. And I'll promise ye the same. We have nothing now between us, save — respect, perhaps. And I think that respect has maybe room for secrets, but not for lies."
That's lovely. And, I expect, difficult to live up to. But I like it much better than all that "Blood of my Blood" nonsense.
For her first question, Claire asks Jamie why he married her. Answer: to keep her safe. Faintly patronizing, but practical, under the circumstances. And more than a bit touching.
"You have my name and my family, my clan, and if necessary, the protection of my body as well."
Why did they even bother with the other vows? These seem to be the important ones.
I hoped only that I could offer him something in return.
Indeed.
Though I do appreciate Diana Gabaldon's execution of this bargain. Sex-for-protection could be bleakly transactional, but these characters have enough dimension that they have more to offer one another.
Jamie breaks out the wine with a callback to the time they got tipsy together in Colum's hall. Claire generally doesn't need any help being forthright, but this won't hurt.
Jamie admits that one of his reasons for marrying Claire was that he wanted to sleep with her, which gives us a nice moment of conflicting morals:
"You wouldn't necessarily have had to marry me for that," I objected. He appeared honestly scandalized. "You do not think I would take ye without offering marriage!"
You tell him, Claire.
Side note: "take" is one of my least favorite sex euphemisms. As in "take" someone's virginity. Shudder.
Question: is "lowest common denominator" an 18th-century expression?
I couldn't, in fairness, say that the thought had not entered my mind, even before the absurd situation in which we found ourselves arose.
Nice that you've admitted to yourself what was already obvious to casual observers.
There follows a long discussion of Jamie's family history. No doubt, we will come to know plenty more about the people named here, including:
Brian Fraser
Ellen MacKenzie Fraser
Auntie Janet and Auntie Jocasta and their children
Dougal's four(!) daughters
Jenny Fraser
Jacob MacKenzie
Simon Fraser, Lord Lovat (and his wives)
Question: Is this the real historical figure, Lord Lovat? Or a fictional version? I only know one thing about the real Lord Lovat, which is that he was the last person in Great Britain executed by public beheading. So that does not bode well for Jamie's Fraser relations. But isn't it a bit dicey having a fictional character related to a real historical figure? I suppose there will be some sort of explanation eventually.
From there, he had gone to France, where he had spent two years fighting with the French army, around the Spanish border.
I will update the body count to reflect this new information.
There is also discussion of Jamie's head injury, along with mention of an unnamed "English visitor" who was staying with Dougal at the time. We learn that Dougal sent Jamie to recover at the French Abbey where his uncle, Alexander Fraser, is abbot. That brings us right about up to the time when Claire arrived.
"Why did you come back to Scotland in the first place, though? I should have thought you'd be much safer in France." He opened his mouth to reply, then reconsidered, sipping wine. Apparently I was getting near the edge of his own area of secrecy.
Good to know. It's nice to have these little mysteries to solve along the way.
A scholar of antiquities made as much — or as little — sense in the eighteenth century as in the twentieth.
They talk on and on, getting to know one another.
"It is awfully late," I said, getting up too. "Maybe we should go to bed."
And they do.
The TV show kept a lot of this dialogue ("I said I was a virgin, not a monk."), but left this out, for some reason I cannot fathom:
"'Holy God,' said James Fraser, who never took the name of his Lord in vain."
There is a lot of silliness in this book, but that is wonderful. Perhaps one of the things that elevates this book is the clear voice of the protagonist that comes through in a line like that. That level of snark would tip over into bitchiness in a lot of people, but she tempers it with enough kindness that it comes through as gentle, but still just a bit sharp.
The rest of this scene is a bit too cozy, though. I really miss Caitriona Balfe's splendid acting in the wake of Jamie's first effort. Her face is such a perfect blend of disappointment, exasperation, pity, and forbearance — it's sublime.
Oh dear.
"You've never seen people make love?" I was surprised at this.
Me too. Not much privacy in the 18th century.
There follows a discussion of Jamie's experience with sex-ed, comprising some mysterious rustlings obscured by blankets, witnessing a rape, seeing various animals mate, and getting some hair-raising advice from Murtagh, Rupert, and Ned.
"A good bit of it sounded verra unlikely to me, though, so I thought I'd best use my own best judgment."
A decent start, I suppose, but Claire has her work cut out for her.
"Did ye know that snakes have two cocks?"
This sounds like something Diana Gabaldon learned once and thought it was so cool she had to find a way to work it in somehow, relevance be damned.
"Because I want to look at you."
I've mentioned how much I am enjoying reading a series that takes female sexual desire seriously, haven't I? More of this, please.
Later, Claire makes the mistake of opening the door, dressed in her shift, exposing herself to the ribald jests of the "witnesses" waiting in the taproom. Hilarity all around, etc. Everyone seems to be having a merry time, which just emphasizes the general mood of this chapter. I'm glad that the characters get a short glimmer of cheerfulness here, though I do feel a bit sorry for the men who have to go to bed alone after all of this carousing.
Back upstairs:
Not wanting to lecture nor yet to highlight my own experience, I let him do what he would, only offering an occasional suggestion, such as that he might carry his weight on his elbows and not my chest.
Another good example of the character's voice. Claire does eventually embrace her role as "an instructress in the arts of love," dropping mind-blowing knowledge such as the existence of the female orgasm.
"Only if the man is a good lover."
This, however, is not going to do anybody any good, Claire. Beyond stamina and "a sort of unflagging joy," Jamie does not know what he is doing. Too much praise too early and he might get complacent. Also, I don't think it is possible to say this with a straight face.
I was slightly alarmed to see the look of frank interest being replaced with one of growing determination.
*Danger!* *Danger!*
See, now look what you've done, Claire. Perhaps the author or one of her close confidantes has been on the receiving end of this troublesome sort of "determination"? No fun.
Jamie continues to express anxiety about hurting Claire, which she (righteously) finds super annoying. Having had enough of this nonsense, Claire shuts him up by giving him his first blow job and not being gentle about it. At this point, it becomes clear to Jamie that the whole wide world of sexual exploration is open and that Claire is game for more than just vanilla fucking. Which will redound to all of our benefits, I am sure.
However, I must take exception with this next part. It is revealed here that Claire has never received oral sex. I feel that I must defend Frank's honor. We are meant to believe that Frank is an experienced and skillful lover, older than Claire, and someone who has had a fair number of sex partners. This revelation besmirches his credentials and I will not let it stand. Plus, that scene between ShowClaire and ShowFrank was
- hot
- important for establishing the tone of the show
So I have decided to reject this particular paragraph in the novel in favor of the TV Canon.
Claire has another indistinct nightmare and wakes terrified. Jamie springs into ninja mode, but there is nothing to fight. He tries to comfort Claire instead. They end up declaring their feelings:
"I don't hate you."
"I don't hate you, either. And there's many good marriages have started wi' less than that."
Awwww.
My qualms aside, I think this is a great chapter that made an even better TV episode. Yes, yes, it is all very sexy and we can go on about all the exceptionally lovely butts involved. But besides that, the TV adaptation of this chapter was probably one of the best sex scenes I've ever seen on TV. So often, sex on TV is the visual equivalent of the sentence, "And then they had sex." There will be some amorous embraces, maybe some perfunctory moaning, and then it will cut away to the next scene. This is really different. Yes, it is explicit, but it's telling the story of how two characters build an intimate relationship. You wouldn't expect a dramatic argument between two characters to cut out after the first 10 seconds and then pick up with them saying, "well, I'm glad we sorted that out" the next morning. You hear the whole argument. And that's what this TV episode felt like. It started out with two people who were believably awkward with one another, saw them negotiate the terms of intimacy, and left them with a believable bond at the end.
Body Count:
Jamie: 3 + assorted redcoats + time as mercenary in France