The episode of this week unfolds with the sight of redcoats hammering up a fresh wanted poster for the enigmatic "Dunbonnet," who, as we all know, is none other than Jamie donning a dun-hued hat. Our Jamie, ever the magnet for mischief! Even the lads of Lallybroch can't seem to steer clear of trouble. Fergus, once Claudel, has shot up like a beanstalk, radiating an ethereal beauty akin to a cherubic painting, yet proving to be quite the handful. He leads Jenny's sons to an outhouse where he's concealed a firearm, leaving them utterly awestruck.
As is the usual custom on days ending in 'Y,' the redcoats are dragging Jenny's husband away, hoping to coerce him into betraying Jamie. Jenny, heavily pregnant once more—perhaps it's time she considers Ian's contraception advice—remains undeterred by the English threats of hanging every soul at Lallybroch should they refuse to divulge Jamie's whereabouts.
Meanwhile, Jamie has transformed into a veritable Grizzly Adams in the woods, sporting a shaggy beard, tangled mane, and a thousand-yard stare. (Precisely how I'd envision my spouse should I suddenly plummet through time and abandon him.) Deep within, I yearn for him to seek the counsel of a therapist, albeit such a prospect seems improbable in 18th-century Scotland.
Back in Boston, Claire indulges in a somewhat audible self-pleasure session while daydreaming about Jamie (we've all shared Claire's moment of fantasy!). However, her relationship with Frank is improving, somewhat. Their infant continues to melt hearts, albeit Claire's attempt to park her in a perilously unsafe modern-day-standard playpen while she peruses a newspaper is doomed. Frank is spotted in a hotel room, albeit his masculinity is somewhat diminished by the show's overly zealous waxing of his chest. Poorly executed, Starz! Poorly executed. He's a Doberman at heart; let him proudly sport his chest hair. Admittedly, he lacks Jamie's washboard abs, but he's an exemplary father nonetheless.
Alas, Jamie's washboard abs are currently concealed from view, as he mimics Gollum's demeanor by silently hunkering down in his humble abode/cave, meticulously cleaning fish. Really, Jamie, one does not engage in such fishy chores within the confines of one's home! The pungent aroma lingers on for an eternity, it seems! Fergus, eager to learn the art of marksmanship, approaches Jamie, but the latter appears quite disillusioned with such endeavors. "What of the next uprising?" Fergus inquires. "There shall be no more rebellions," Jamie replies solemnly. Fergus, in his youthful impudence, brands him a coward.
Upon Jamie's arrival at the main residence to assist Jenny with the ledgers, as she had requested, he discovers her in the throes of labor. Fortunately, unlike in the previous season, we are spared Jenny's laughable comparison of late pregnancy to constant sexual intimacy. (Spoiler alert: It bears no resemblance whatsoever!) Meanwhile, a raven alights upon the property, a harbinger of dire misfortune. Worse still, Fergus takes a shot at it, drawing the attention of the redcoats in search of the weapon.
Jamie, clutching the newborn, hastily hides behind a door. Jenny, quick on her feet, invents a tale of a stillborn child to divert suspicion. The soldiers demand to see the infant's body, but Mary, the resourceful maid, bursts in and claims responsibility for slaying the raven. The redcoats swallow the story hook, line, and sinker and depart. I am convinced that the narrative is paving the way for a romantic entanglement between Jamie and Mary. Go for it, Jamie! It's been quite some time.
In the 1940s, Claire, perhaps weary of solitary pleasures, reaches out to Frank and confides that she misses her husband. Does she pine for Frank? Perhaps not. Nevertheless, his optimism and sexual deprivation prove sufficient to seize the moment, and her nightgown is discarded in the blink of an eye.
The narrative takes an ABRUPT and UNWELCOME TURN as Fergus cunningly diverts the redcoats from Jamie's concealed location, baiting and taunting them with such finesse... until they eventually corner him and, to my absolute horror, BRUTALLY SEVER HIS HAND. How I wish Claire were here, now more than ever! In this harsh era of Scottish life, it seems no one, not even Fergus, shares my distress; instead, Jamie solemnly vows to care for his disabled companion till the end of his days. It's a heartwarming gesture, indeed. And finally, it evokes tears from Jamie, a sight that, I daresay, marks a welcome release of emotion.
Back in Boston, where the scene shifts once more, Claire and Frank—now NOTICEABLY more content in each other's, ahem, embraces—host a dinner gathering for their salacious neighbors, who seem ripe for some marital escapades with but the slightest provocation. It's heartening to witness Frank and Claire exchanging flirtatious glances and intimate moments once again. However, true to the show's penchant for denying Frank his bliss, their steamy living room encounter is abruptly dashed when Frank notices Claire's unwavering habit of keeping her eyes shut during intimacy.
Yes, Claire closes her eyes during lovemaking, her mind wandering to Jamie's presence, an act of callous disloyalty. "When I'm with you, I'm fully present," Frank laments. "But when you're with me, you're elsewhere, with Jamie." Ouch, indeed. Yet, isn't he merely stating the obvious? Claire, please gather yourself!
Jamie, worried about Jenny and her family's financial well-being amidst adversity, presents his sister with an audacious proposition: turn him in for the bounty. He feels imprisoned already, so why not formalize it? Jenny, as expected, is less than thrilled.
AND, AS I HAD FORESEEN, Mary the maidservant materializes in Jamie's humble abode, shedding her outer garments until only her shift remains. (Though covering the vast majority of her form, it's unmistakably a brazen seductive maneuver by Highlands standards.) Jamie vacillates between refusal and temptation, eventually giving in. "Live for the moment, Jamie!" one might urge. And he does, though even he keeps his eyes resolutely shut.
Subsequently, adhering to Outlander's resolve to imbue every Boston scene with reminders that THIS EPOCH IS INDEED GRIMMER, Claire ventures to Harvard Medical School, only to endure insults and condescending attitudes from her professors and fellow students. (The lone beacon of decency amidst this sea of superiority is a black student, with whom she strikes up an immediate rapport, while everyone else resembles a casting call for a fraternity rapist role on Law & Order: SVU.) The messaging here is somewhat overbearing and executed with a heavy hand.
Meanwhile, back at Lallybroch, Jenny undergoes a transformation. She decides to heed Jamie's advice, and as the redcoat soldiers drag him away, she stands there, her grip tightening around her metaphorical forty pieces of silver, screaming fake insults with a grim determination. Was this a prudent decision? Most likely!
