Diana Gabaldon - Lord John and the Private Matter

Sincerely,

Diana Gabaldon

To Margaret Scott Gabaldon and KayFears Watkins,
my childrens wonderful grandmothers

Acknowledgments

Interviewers are always asking me how manyresearch assistants I employ. The answer is None. I do all my ownresearchbecause I simply wouldnt have any idea what to tell anassistant to go look for!

However, the answer also isHundreds!because so many nice people not only answer my randominquiries about this, that, and the otherbut then helpfully providelots more entertaining information that I would never have dreamed ofasking for in the first place.

In conjunction with this particular book,Id especially like to acknowledge the efforts of...

... Karen Watson, of Her MajestysCustoms and Excise, who kindly spent a lot of time sleuthing roundLondon (and assorted historical records) to verify the feasibility ofvarious of Lord Johns movements, and also was of invaluable assistancein locating appropriate venues for skulduggery, as well as suggestingpicturesque bits of arcana like the heroically amended statue ofCharles I. I have taken small liberties with some of her informationregarding London police jurisdictions, but thats my fault, not hers.

... John L. Myers, who inadvertentlystarted this a long time ago, by sending me books about queer Dutchmenand Englishmen who were a little odd, too.

... Laura Bailey (and her fellowre-enactors), for the lavish details of costume in the eighteenthcentury.

... Elaine Wilkinson, who not onlyresponded to my plea for a German red, but discovered the existenceof Castle Georgen and the family zu Egkh und Hungerbach (Josef, hiscastle, and his Schilcher wine are real; his disreputable nephew is myown invention. Schilcher, by the way, means brilliant orsparkling).

... Barbara Schnell, my wonderful Germantranslator, for helpful details regarding the conversation and conductof Stephan von Namtzen, and for the name Mayrhofer, as well as theGerman expression for well-groomed.

... My two literary agents, RussellGalen and Danny Baror, who, when I told them I had finished the secondLord John short story, inquired how long it was. Upon being told, theylooked at each other, then at me, and said as one, You dorealize that thats the length most normal books are? Whichis why this is a book, though I make no claims for how normal it is.Not very, I expect.

Dear Readers

I think its only fair to warn you that I wrote thisbook by accident. I thought I was writing a short story aboutLord John Greyone of my favorite characters from the OUTLANDER novels.As it was, though... Lord John had other ideas.

Even though I was workingand still amon the next bignovel starring Jamie and Claire, Lord Johns adventures in London in1757 kept evolving, growing more complex and fascinating with eachpage. Set during the time just after Lord John has left Jamie Fraser atHelwater as a Jacobite prisoner of war, Lord John and the PrivateMatter is an interpolation: part of the OUTLANDER series, andtaking place within its timelinebut focused on an adventure separatefrom the lives of the main characters.

So I hope you will enjoy this trip through the darkerside of London life in the company of Scottish whores, plumed Huns,reprobate Sergeants, Irish apothecaries, transvestite spies... andLord John.

Slainte mhath!

Diana

P.S. If youve been reading the OUTLANDER novels, youprobably already know that Slainte mhath! means To yourvery good health! in Gaelic, but I thought Id mention it, just incase. (You normally say this while drinking whisky, but if you want todrink whisky while reading this book, I think thats fine, and Im sureLord John wouldnt mind, either.)

Chapter 1

When First We Practice
to Deceive

London, June 1757
The Society for the Appreciation of
the English Beefsteak, a Gentlemens Club

I t was thesort of thing one hopes momentarily that one has not reallyseenbecause life would be so much more convenient if one hadnt.

The thing was scarcely shocking initself; Lord John Grey had seen worse, could see worse now, merely bystepping out of the Beefsteak into the street. The flower girl whodsold him a bunch of violets on his way into the club had had ahalf-healed gash on the back of her hand, crusted and oozing. Thedoorman, a veteran of the Americas, had a livid tomahawk scar that ranfrom hairline to jaw, bisecting the socket of a blinded eye. Bycontrast, the sore on the Honorable Joseph Trevelyans privy member wasquite small. Almost discreet.

Not so deep as a well, nor so wideas a door, Grey muttered to himself. But it will suffice. Damn it.

He emerged from behind the Chinesescreen, lifting the violets to his nose. Their sweetness was no matchfor the pungent scent that followed him from the piss-pots. It wasearly June, and the Beefsteak, like every other establishment inLondon, reeked of beer and asparagus-pee.

Trevelyan had left the privacy ofthe Chinese screen before Lord John, unaware of the latters discovery.The Honorable Joseph stood across the dining room now, deep inconversation with Lord Hanley and Mr. Pitt, the very picture of tasteand sober elegance. Shallow in the chest, Grey thoughtuncharitablythough the suit of puce superfine was beautifully tailoredto flatter the mans slenderness. Spindle-shanked, too; Trevelyanshifted weight, and a shadow winked on his left leg, where the pad ofthe downy-calf he wore had shifted under a clocked silk stocking.

Lord John turned the posycritically in his hand, as though inspecting it for wilt, watching theman from beneath lowered lashes. He knew well enough how to lookwithout appearing to do so. He wished he were not in the habit of suchsurreptitious inspectionif not, he wouldnt now be facing thisdilemma.

The discovery that an acquaintancesuffered from the French disease would normally be grounds for nothingmore than distaste at worst, disinterested sympathy at bestalong witha heartfelt gratitude that one was not oneself so afflicted.Unfortunately, the Honorable Joseph Trevelyan was not merely a clubacquaintance; he was betrothed to Greys cousin.