Guess who's made a triumphant return? It's John Grey, back once more! Spread the word, folks. Here comes Lord John Grey, sauntering through the rugged backcountry of North Carolina as if his casual, "I was just passing through on my way to Virginia" excuse is enough to win everyone over. Don't misunderstand me; I relish the drama that Lord John's unexpected appearances bring, but it's sheer delight to witness various characters calling him out on the absurdity of Virginia being anywhere near Fraser's Ridge. Come on, Lord John, your infatuation is all too evident.
Upon arriving at the Ridge (as the hip crowd affectionately dubs it), did Lord John catch sight of Jamie, sawing wood with his hair flowing freely, and think to himself, "This was absolutely worth the journey"? Well, he wouldn't be entirely wrong. His reunion with Jamie is heartwarming indeed. The Highlander beams with joy at seeing his old chum, but not everyone shares his enthusiasm. Young Ian is away with the Cherokee, missing out on voicing his opinion on the English visitors, and Claire is less than thrilled that the man smitten with her husband has shown up uninvited. Murtagh, another alumnus of Ardsmuir Prison, isn't overly pleased to see his former warden either. Matters become particularly uncomfortable when John openly expresses his camaraderie with Governor Tryon and his contempt for the Regulators fighting against taxes, deeming them utter savages. Tensions mount on the picturesque Fraser's Ridge until Jamie and Murtagh have a private chat, and Murtagh realizes that Jamie owes John Grey a great deal—he's raising Jamie's son.
That's correct, folks! Lord John Grey hasn't ventured into the backcountry solo; he's brought Willie—I mean, Master William—along. John cautions Jamie that the child might not recall him after such a long absence, and Jamie replies that it's probably for the best. Yet, every time Jamie lays eyes on his secret son, his vision blurs with misty emotions, partly due to William's atrocious haircut but also, admittedly, because of the haircut.
The Frasers' guests make themselves quite at home. William reveals himself to be exceedingly demanding and somewhat prim (though he does begin to remember the groom from Helwater when he gets a moment alone with Jamie). Meanwhile, John reconnects with his buddy over their favorite pastime, chess, and some moonshine. Jamie repeatedly emphasizes how content he is with his life, though it's challenging for him to conceal the poignant reminder that he has two children, neither of whom he raised. In the meantime, Claire is eagerly anticipating the departure of her guests; the lady is incredibly aroused. Indeed, life on Fraser's Ridge is delightful, but like all pleasant times, this too must come to an end.
Until Lord John Grey succumbs to the clutches of the measles, a malady that's no laughing matter in this narrative! What choice does Claire have but to attend to the gravely ill John Grey? She, fortified by the measles vaccine in her own time, and Jamie, who suffered through the illness as a child, stand somewhat protected, yet William remains vulnerable to infection's grasp. Determined, Claire endeavors to nurse John back to health, necessitating Jamie to whisk William away from the cabin's confines for a few days. Hardly anyone relishes this arrangement, perhaps with the exception of Jamie — though the moment he physically lifts a protesting William onto his steed, he might just reconsider his father-son bonding adventure amidst the forest's embrace.
And so, they embark, affording Jamie a precious few days to impart wisdom unto William, lessons he yearned to teach had he been granted custody. From respecting property boundaries to mustering courage during deer gutting and mastering the art of fish-catching sans tackle, Jamie's lessons are manifold. Thankfully, Claire isn't present for the latter tutorial, lest she succumb to an overwhelming surge of repressed sexual tension. Catching a fish barehanded, folks!
The entire expedition carries a poignant sweetness tinged with sorrow, as Jamie savors each fleeting moment while William, bemoaning his fate, yearns only for his father's embrace. Poor William, recently bereft of his mother and now displaced to the wilderness to reconnect with a barely remembered horse-riding acquaintance from yesteryears, despite his less-than-stellar haircut.
Amidst the complexities of the wilderness, the cabin harbors far more intriguing dynamics. John's condition leaves much to be desired (by "desired," I mean his fever renders him scorching hot, get the metaphor?). Apparently, afflict a British aristocrat with measles, and truths spill forth as freely as a tipsy sorority sister's confessions. John and Claire exchange candid words about his sham marriage, Claire confrontationally exposing his true visiting motive — Jamie, of course. John is both daunted by and in awe of Claire's uncompromising honesty. Claire came to prevail, John. Step aside.
Later, John confesses, with a somber tone, that following the passing of his platonic spouse, he felt an emptiness within, prompting him to seek out Jamie to ascertain if his own heart had truly withered. Come now, John, let us be real; we all harbor a tinge of that inner void, but that hardly justifies jeopardizing our teenage son's life by wandering through the plague-ridden streets of Measles Town and abandoning him in the wilderness, merely to test the pulse of a forbidden affection. Or perhaps it does? Nonetheless, his heartfelt confession is poignant, yet just as Claire begins to empathize with him, he drops a bombshell: He could have had Jamie had he but desired it – Jamie had even offered himself to John in return for John raising William as his heir. Claire, unable to contain her disbelief, silences him abruptly. John will surely come to regret his words come morning.
And indeed, he does! Regretful and contrite, he seeks forgiveness, and a bond forms between him and Claire as they commiserate over their shared failure to please their respective spouses – John with Isobel and Claire with Frank. She gently reminds him that through William, he carries a part of Jamie with him always, urging him to seek genuine love. The moment is heartwarming, and Claire's respect for him grows, despite his earlier accusations of jealousy towards her bond with John, Jamie, and William. Thanks to Claire's intervention, Lord John recovers from the measles, and they part ways on amicable terms, the woodland escapade concluding similarly harmoniously.
William, however, reveals that he had ignored Jamie's stern warnings about trespassing onto Cherokee land to go fishing, much to the Cherokee's chagrin. In an emotional tug-of-war, Jamie DECLARES his parentage, offering himself to the Cherokee in William's stead, only for William to refute his claim, insisting he is not his father. Confusion clouds William's mind, but ultimately, the Cherokee spare them with a mere scratch, and Jamie beams with pride at his son's bravery. William confesses that he remembers far more about Jamie than he let on and has always pondered why Jamie never glanced back at him on the day he left. Jamie's heart ached not to give him false hope; he never anticipated seeing his son again. Beneath his ill-fitting wig, wheels are turning, and though William may not comprehend the truth just yet, he senses something amiss. As William and John depart Fraser's Ridge, he ensures to cast one final glance at Jamie.
While visitors can be delightful, particularly when they foster much-needed character development for Claire, I am relieved that these meddlers have departed, leaving Jamie and Claire to indulge in some well-deserved, steamy bath time together. We all deserve this respite, Claire most of all. And so do we, the audience! Jamie's sensual whispers of jealousy towards the water and his desire to bathe his wife in kisses set the mood perfectly. He elevates the romance further by presenting her with a ring crafted by Murtagh from his mother's candlestick, inscribed with the tender words, "Give me a thousand kisses, and I'll give you a thousand more." With that, he sweeps Claire off her feet, carrying her to their bed to commence their owed thousand kisses. Here's hoping the rest of the season brims with such intimate moments and fewer discussions on 18th-century American taxation. One can only dream.
