Why is Tavington so bitter and heartless? Nature, perhaps? Demon possessed? No. His past has made him the way he is.
William Tavington had once been a very honorable and loving man. He had a beautiful wife named Lilly whom he loved dearly. Her sparkling green eyes made him weak, and her dark curls cascaded down her back and over her shoulders like chocolate waterfalls. How he loved to run his fingers through the smooth strands as they lay together after a night of making love. He remembered well the way she smiled at him when he showered her with compliments, how her cheeks flushed red. Each and every time he touched her bare skin, she melted into his embrace and let him hold her. Every night when he returned from his meetings, she was waiting; no matter the hour, there she sat on the window seat, staring out, watching for him to come riding over the hill. After a long, troublesome day, she was there to comfort him, coaxing him into relaxation with her soothing voice. Truly, she was the perfect wife.
On a warm summer day, William returned home in a cheery mood, hoping to find his beloved Lilly waiting at the door for him with glee in her eyes and smile gracing her lips. However, opening the door, he found her sitting on the sofa, lost in thought, never noticing him striding across the room to stand before her. His mind fumbled to figure out what could possibly cause her to act so strangely. Reaching out to caress her soft cheek, he spoke. "Lilly, my love, I'm home." His fingertips grazed her skin, drawing a shiver from her...an unnatural behavior for her. "Lilly?"
"William, forgive me; my mind was miles away. I'm glad to see you're in high spirits. The day is far too lovely to be distraught." She took his hand in her own and gave a vague smile before pulling herself to her feet. "I trust the meetings went well." She stumbled forward, making her way to the stairs. Her grip on the railing slipped, her balance wavering, she collapsed.
"If it is such a lovely day, why do you seem so distant, so ill? What ails you, my dear?" He hurried to her aid, helping her up again, letting her lean against him for balance. He searched her eyes for answers but found nothing. When she didn't reply, he simply carried her up the remaining stairs and to her chamber. Laying her delicate frame in the bed, he sat on the edge, hoping she would explain to him why she looked so awful. "Lilly, tell me what causes you to look so sickly."
"I've been sick to my stomach for the last few days, but today has been the worst. William...I...I believe I may be with child. I'm not entirely sure, but I'll know soon." She sat up and put her hand on his knee. "If I were, what would be your reaction, my love?" Her eyes, though still full of sickness, plead for his answer.
"A child would not bother me at all; in fact, I would welcome it with great joy." His hand cupped her cheek as his lips curved into a smile. Her green eyes locked with his for a brief moment before he continued. "You should rest. I'll retrieve you when supper is done." Kissing her hand gently, he left, closing the door softly, the click of his boots striking the floor muffled by the walls.
After another month, it was confirmed that Lilly was expecting a child. William embraced his wife happily, kissing her numerous times. However, both were warned of the potential complications. Lilly's hips were narrow, posing the possibility that she would not be able to successfully deliver the child without the loss of life, whether it be the child's, her own, or both. Neither Lilly nor William paid this much heed; they were far too excited at the prospect of parenthood.
When the day of the birth arrived, William paced outside Lilly's bedroom door, each moan, each cry of pain, draining the bottle of brandy that sat on a nearby table. He'd never prayed so much in his life until this stressful, joy filled day. At last, after several tiring hours, the midwife opened the door to him and allowed him passage into the room. "Lilly?" He stared at her for a moment, pondering the child's appearance. Her pleasant smile urged him to come closer, to see his child.
"Don't be shy, William. Surely you aren't afraid of your infant daughter." Lilly held the little bundle out to him. "She's precious."
William cradled the child in the crook of his arm and stared down at her features. Her icey blue eyes were his, but the dark hair could be from either parent. The sight of such a sweet and innocent babe drew a smile to his lips. The tips of his fingers caressed her soft cheek. As he continued to take in her visage, he found that her lips were her mother's. "She'll be very beautiful when she's older...even more so than she is now."
"Indeed. We must name her, William. I thought perhaps your mother's name: Sarah." Lilly's emerald gaze met his.
"And your mother's name as her middle name: Clairice."
"Sarah Clairice Tavington. I like the sound of it. So shall her name be." Lilly leaned back, resting her head against the headboard of the bed, a tired sigh escaping her. "Such a lovely girl...a gift from God."
"That she is, my pet. Now, I believe you both need some peace and quiet to rest. Sleep well, my dearest loves." William laid his daughter in the cradle next to Lilly's bed and left the room after kissing his wife and child on the forehead. He was happier than he could ever possibly be.
Two months passed happily for the Tavingtons. Lilly recovered quickly from childbirth, and Sarah was absolutely the most beautiful baby ever to be seen. However, one day, as he rode home, he had a terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. As he neared the rode leading to their house, he saw an enormous billow of black smoke rising in the air. His heart began to race as he kicked his horse, making her run as fast as she could down the rode. When he reached the house, it was almost entirely burned to the ground. The blaze was still quite hot and prevented him from scanning the ruins for any sign of Lilly and Sarah. He stood in shock, tears welling in his eyes. He cried his wife and daughter's names and fell to his knees.
A quiet moan drew his attention to the willow tree to his right. As the wind blew the leafy curtain back, he saw a pale body lying still below the branches. Scampering to his feet, he rushed to their aid...Lilly. He scooped her into his arms and held her to his chest, crying hot tears of anger and grief. "Lilly. Lilly, love!" He pushed her dark hair from her face and tapped her cheek gently in an attempt to wake her.
"William." She breathed in a raspy voice, her eyes opening slightly. "William."
"Yes, I'm here." He stared at her. "Where's Sarah?" Her finger raised and pointed to the watering trough. "Dear, God. No! Please, no!" He cried again. "Is she dead?" Lilly nodded weakly. William ran his fingers through her tangled hair, staining his hands with her blood. He hadn't noticed that she was bleeding until now. He frantically searched her body for the injury and found it. There was a puncture wound in her lower abdomen, just to the side, not quite where her stomach was located, like a dagger. Her night gown was dyed crimson with the blood draining from his wife's body. "Lilly, I'm so sorry. I...who did this? What happened?"
She took a ragged breath. "Some men came a short...while ago...and robbed us. One took Sarah...and drowned her. Another raped me...and plunged...his...dagger into my side. Then...they set the...house on...fire...leaving me...to die...slowly. I...tried to...stop them...but they...were too strong...for me."
"Oh, God. Lilly, I...Lilly..." He stopped when she touched his cheek with cold, clammy fingers. Her breath was very short now and shallow. "Lilly, please, don't go. Lilly!" He heard her mutter "I love you." before her eyes shut, Death wrapping his hands around her heart. After a moment, William laid Lilly down gently and went to the watering trough to retrieve little Sarah. He found her lying face down in the trough, her body cold and already beginning to stiffen. "My darling, Sarah. He kissed her forehead and took her to the willow tree, lying her next to her mother. After kissing them both, he found a shovel in the stables and began digging Sarah's grave.
"Colonel Tavington!" a man shouted from a short distance off. In a brief moment, one of the men from the Dragoons appeared at his side, Jonathon Scott. "Dear, God! What happened? What are you doing? Where are Lilly and Sarah?" He followed William's short glance to the willow tree and gasped at the sight of the two bodies. "I'll help you dig their graves and bury them." He retrieved a shovel and began digging another grave for Lilly.
"No. Help me bring their bodies here." William turned and started toward his dead family. He lifted Lilly, while Jonathon carried tiny Sarah. "Now, use some of the wood lying about to create two makeshift markers until I can have two stones carved." Jonathon nodded and did as instructed.
After both were buried, William sat infront of the graves, his head in his hands, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Goodbye, my loves. I only wish we'd had more together."
Jonathon stood just behind him, fighting back his own tears. Lilly and his wife were very good friends; he didn't know how he would tell her that Lilly and little Sarah were dead. His heart ached for poor William; he'd known William from childhood and was a close friend. William's father became a drunk after the death of his mother, spending all of their money and squandering his inheritance. That was terrible in itself, but Lilly got him through it. Now, without his wife and daughter, he would surely go mad. "I'm horribly sorry for what has happened, my friend."
"So am I. I thank you for your help, Jonathon; you're a good friend." Without turning his attention from the graves, he bid Jonathon farewell as he rode away, wondering what would become of William. "I won't forget you, my dears. I promise you, I will have vengeance in some form. I may not be able to find the men who did this, but I will reap my revenge through victory in battle."