Title: Mon Coeur Embrouillé
Author: Wasted21
Classification: Angst / Romance / Drama
Plot Summary: Amanda van der Woodsen is the wife of Colonel William Tavington. An arranged marriage, it is not a happy one. Her husband is often gone with military business, and when he is home, he is distant and cold. Lonely and desperate to make her marriage work, Amanda travels to South Carolina to spend several months at Middleton Plantation while the British Army is in Charlestown. While there, she befriends young Captain Joel Schafer. She cares for Joel, but she worries about their friendship. In having a male companion, is she risking her good graces in Colonel Tavington's eyes? And can Tavington ever provide the love that Amanda so craves?
Rated: PG-13
Chapter One
Winter came early in 1778. Even though it was only November, when she stepped out onto the back porch of the Middleton Plantation, Amanda Tavington had to wrap a heavy shawl around her thin shoulders. The sky was gray and a few snow flurries fell around her, coming to rest on patches of dead, brown grass. With a sigh Amanda sat down on a rickety rocking chair, curling her legs underneath her to keep warm. As she gazed across the backyard and the fields beyond, she tried to appreciate the scene. The Middleton residence was a stately cotton plantation in Wakefield, South Carolina. It's owners, Jonathan and Susan Middleton, were extremely generous and Amanda knew that she was lucky to have such hospitality bestowed upon her. But the truth was that no matter how much she tried to like her new environment, she couldn't quell the sadness deep in her heart. She missed France terribly. She missed her mother even more.
And beyond the missing that she felt, a different emotion overpowered it. It was the emotion that she reserved for her husband, Lt. Colonel William Tavington.
Sometimes, Amanda hated William Tavington.
She had been born Amanda van der Woodsen, the only daughter of the Baron and Baroness. For years, Amanda had lived with her parents and her older brother, Marc, in an elegant chateau in the Loire Valley, France. The van der Woodsen family threw and attended balls for the crème de la crème of French society, and they dressed in the latest fashions from Paris. The world was Amanda's at the snap of her elegant fingers, and she liked it that way.
When she turned sixteen, she'd had her official debutante ball in Paris and from then on had met many suitors. At every ball that Amanda attended, she'd hoped to find someone charming and handsome to fall in love with. She would have rather married for love. Her father gave her the opportunity to meet someone that she could get along well with. His bargain was that she had one year in which to choose, or he would choose for her. And Amanda had tried, she really had. She'd been open to the many handsome young men who had tried to win her hand in marriage. She'd met dukes, counts, sons of successful business men. She'd even danced with the prince of France at one ball. But while these men were financially worthy of her father's satisfaction and of supporting Amanda's lifestyle, they lacked in personality and charm. They were pleasant men, but arrogant and haughty all the same. After each ball, Amanda's hopes were deflated like fallen tea cakes and she spent long hours in her quarters, nursing her disappointment.
A few weeks before her seventeenth birthday, her father was annoyed. Amanda had seemingly met every eligible man in France and yet she remained single. He began making arrangements with an old friend of his, named William Tavington, Sr. of England. Tavington had a son namesake who was single and enlisted in the British Army. From what little Amanda knew, the match would serve more for Tavington's interests than her own. The senior Tavington was an alcoholic and quite a gambler, and not much of the family fortune remained. But the younger Tavington had just been promoted to Lt. Colonel in the British Army. Amanda's father thought that Tavington had a long, promising career ahead of him and knew that his daughter would always be financially secure. Business deals were made and financial status was discussed, and two days after Amanda van der Woodsen turned seventeen, she was promised to be married to William Tavington.
Amanda watched as the household cat, Calico, scurried across a patch of dying flowers. The cat pounced once or twice before growing bored and turning to head to the porch. Amanda reached out a slender arm and called to the cat; Calico leaped obediently into her lap. Running her fingers over the cat's fine, white fur, Amanda's thoughts drifted again. She studied the patch of dying flowers, the blues and pinks and purples giving way to crisp brown, and she thought of her wedding day.
At first, she'd been optimistic. She'd been sent to the Tavington estate in England to meet her fiancé two weeks before the wedding. Upon first glance, it would seem that Amanda had been bargained right into a marriage with a prince Charming. The younger Tavington was tall, broad-shouldered, and handsome in every sense of the word. Even though he was a good fifteen years older than she, he retained youthful good looks. His straight, thick black hair was woven into a dignified queue style, and his pale skin was flawless. What enraptured her the most were his eyes, for they were very pale blue, like rare crystals. He'd smiled when they were introduced, revealing rows of perfect, straight white teeth. He'd been polite to her, even almost friendly at times, and Amanda had felt secure. She could fall in love with William Tavington.
The couple had returned to the chateau for the ceremony and then embarked on a long honeymoon tour through Europe. She'd fallen in love with him more quickly than she'd anticipated, and after awhile he grew to love her, too. He treated her with affection and respect. That was in 1775.
Things changed quickly, however, once time went on. Tavington withdrew from his wife and seemed to take up the same activities that his then late father had been so fond of: drinking and gambling and courting women. Tavington had no qualms at all over taking up a mistress or two while he was away from home "on military duty." After just one year of marriage, Tavington's love for Amanda had become as dead and cold as his pale blue eyes. In 1776, the American colonials, who spoke against British taxation, had taken action by dressing up as Indians and dumping an entire ship's full of tea into Boston Harbor. In an outrage, King George ordered several regiments of soldiers and officers to the colonies to attempt to restore peace in the colonies. Tavington was among those to leave.
Amanda sighed as her thoughts tumbled through her head. She'd tried to keep the marriage alive. When he first went away, Amanda wrote several letters to William, romantic letters that she hoped would remind him of the good times that they had shared. But he never wrote back. Not even once, Amanda recalled bitterly.
After official war was declared in the colonies and Tavington was transferred to General Cornwallis' command, Amanda stopped writing letters. She supposed one day she'd hear from William. Perhaps in a telegram telling her that he'd died.
So why did I come here? Amanda asked herself for what seemed like the umpteenth time. She should have taken advantage of her husband's long leave to return home to the chateau for an extended visit. She closed her eyes and imagined the valley, imagined sitting in the drawing room with the windows facing west towards the sunset. She and her mother would share tea and stories and she would not spare a thought to William Tavington.
But over the summer of 1778, William had finally written to her. Cornwallis and the British had taken full control of the city of Charlestown, South Carolina. The regiment had set up fort there and the owners of a nearby plantation in Wakefield had opened their home indefinitely. In an almost odd request, especially for William, he'd invited her to take voyage to the colonies and join him for a visit. She would be safe in British occupied-Charlestown and there would be galas and balls. Amanda didn't know why he asked her to come. He could easily find a woman's company in the colonies. Yet for some reason, Amanda had felt inclined to acknowledge his request for her presence. Maybe she felt that he was ready to try again at making their marriage work. For whatever reason, she'd been escorted on the voyage by a male family friend. She'd arrived at the Charlestown harbor on a cool mid-October day.
But William had not been there to meet her; she had instead been escorted to Wakefield by one of his subordinates. And in the month that she had been in America, she'd seen him only once or twice. It left her feeling bitter and empty, resenting both her husband and her father for choosing him.
I think I shall go home, she thought to herself as Calico jumped off her lap in pursuit of a field mouse darting by. Not to England, where she spent lonely days attempting to learn better English by listening to conversations around her. She would return to the Loire Valley indefinitely and pursue the comforting touch of her own home and bedroom.
Amanda stood and shook out her long skirts with one last glance at the setting sun. Then she turned away and headed back into the house to pack her things.
Tavington returned to Middleton Plantation that night and before Amanda could begin to make arrangements for her escape, she found herself seated at a formal dinner hosted by the Middletons. Among the guests were General Lord Cornwallis, second-in-command O'Hara, and a number of officers. They were dressed in their best and each man was escorted by a companion. Amanda found herself seated with Tavington on her right side and the woman companion to O'Hara on her left side. Charlotte, who was the daughter of a Loyalist, leaned over and whispered to Amanda, "These events are so terribly formal that I'm afraid I don't know how to act."
Amanda smiled back but didn't reply. She, of course, knew how to act at a formal dinner. She'd been to so many of them in her privileged lifetime that it was second nature to her. But she gave Charlotte a reassuring glance, as if to say that it didn't matter at all. Charlotte seemed to relax.
A few private conversations were going on around them as the servants served the first course. William leaned towards Amanda and attempted to converse. "I have not seen you much, Amanda. Have you been amusing yourself?" he asked as he took a delicate sip of wine from his goblet.
Amanda glanced at him sideways, refraining from tossing a glare. "Yes," she responded lightly.
"Good, very good," Tavington answered, seeming satisfied. "And what sort of activities are you engaging in?" He turned towards her now and smiled, but it was not the genuine smile he might have once given her. It was a quivery, forced half-smile, the kind of smile that revealed his impatience at having to make small talk with his wife.
Amanda took her time answering. She waited while the maid came and served the main course of roast beef and soup before replying. "I have kept in contact with my mother," she answered finally, "and I spend much time writing to her. She enjoys my letters." Amanda paused, and then couldn't stop herself from adding, "It is very nice to write to someone who takes the time to return my efforts."
As soon as the words left her mouth, she knew that she had overstepped her bounds. But fortunately, Tavington must have been distracted, because he did not notice the jab. Or if he did, he didn't acknowledge it. Instead he just nodded and replied, "Well, good communication is necessary, especially with your parents. I envy your close relationship with your mother. I only wish I'd had the same."
Maybe if you returned their letters, Amanda thought, but she didn't say anything. She took a bite of beef and chewed the piece thoroughly, delicately. Tavington turned away from her then and began talking to his subordinate, Borden. Amanda concentrated on her meal, but after a few minutes she felt someone's eyes on her. Looking up, she found herself staring directly into the gaze of a very young officer seated across from her. He was her age, or maybe a couple of years older. His hair, a soft brown, was not long enough to be pulled into a queue and instead was combed back away from his face. Shaggy strands fell into his eyes no matter how often he reached up to push them back. His eyes were brown, like fresh polished wood, and he was staring straight back at Amanda thoughtfully.
When she met his gaze, she raised her eyebrows. Surely it was not appropriate for him to gaze at her in such a way. But he turned away quickly and asked Cornwallis a question, and Amanda decided she'd been imagining things.
Finally, dinner was completed. As the servants cleared away the last of the dishes, Tavington turned to Amanda. "Might I interest you in a stroll through the gardens?" he asked. Amanda, surprised, managed to nod and she held her breath as he helped her from her chair. Together, they left the dining room and exited the house through a side entrance that led directly into the gardens. The sun had set and it was chilly outside, but the sky was clear and dark blue, twinkling with the early stars. Dusk was Amanda's favorite time of day.
For a few minutes, the couple strolled arm-in-arm quietly. Amanda waited for Tavington to speak. She never initiated the conversation. It didn't seem appropriate.
"I'm leaving tomorrow indefinitely," William said finally, gazing out at the poppy fields. "We're launching a campaign that shall take us to North Carolina and from there, Richmond. His Lordship Cornwallis is certain that a push north will be greatly effective in gaining the upper hand. It won't be long before this conflict is over." Tavington paused to admire a rose bush. "I am in good spirits," he went on. "I am confident." He seemed to be talking more to himself than to Amanda, but she didn't mind. That was what she was there for; the trophy wife for him to wear on his arm and show off like a prize. She was supposed to be an ear for him to talk to and a body in his bed for when he desired, and eventually she would mother his children. But he didn't want to know her opinions on anything. And she didn't much care to give them to him, either.
"King George has been giving very generous gifts to the higher ranking officers," William was saying. "There has been talk among the soldiers. Land grants, for the aristocracy. I am hopeful that my contributions to this war will be rewarded in such a manner, and I can start a fresh life, away from the idle gossip of London. We will have children of course . . ." He went on talking, but Amanda tuned him out. He was talking so quickly that she missed a couple of his words, anyway. Even though her English was excellent from the three years that they'd been married, if she didn't listen carefully then she missed certain things. But she'd gotten the general idea of what he was saying. Settling in the American colonies. Amanda let out her breath with a sad sigh. She had no say, of course, but America was so far away from France . . .
They strolled for about half an hour before Amanda spoke up. "We should retire for the night," she said. Dusk had settled into an early winter darkness and it was colder than ever.
William nodded. "Yes," he agreed. They returned to the plantation house and the large quarters that they shared (when William was there). They undressed in silence. Amanda sat at the chair in front of her vanity dresser, removing her bonnet and brushing out her long, blonde hair. She studied her reflection. She didn't like the way that she looked. She had once been beautiful, she was sure. Her servants had always dressed her up like royalty and she was always the first to be asked to dance at balls. Now her hair hung limply around her shoulders and there were shadows underneath her dark blue eyes. She'd always been slender but now she was very thin. She never had much of an appetite.
"Mandy," William said, using the old nickname he'd called her often during their early marriage. "Do stop gazing at yourself and come to bed." His voice was commanding. Amanda closed her eyes for a brief moment. Once, making love to her husband had been like a dream. Now, she dreaded it. She collected her thoughts and opened her eyes, then turned and headed dutifully for the bed.
The next day, Amanda saw William off with the other Green Dragoons. They were leaving Middleton Place to Fort Carolina and from there embarking on an indefinite campaign that they hoped would take them north. After he was gone, Amanda requested a picnic lunch packed for her and then she took it to the creek.
There was a beautiful creek on the outskirts of the plantation. The area was almost hidden from view; a sloping hill of green grass led down to a crystal clear creek. The water wasn't very deep, and sometimes when Amanda sat at the bank she could see small goldfish and tadpoles swimming about. She wanted to visit one last time before she decided how she was going to leave for France.
She carried her basket down to the bank and sat down on a soft blanket. It was cold outside but the sun was shining, so Amanda didn't mind. She took off her hat and set it on the ground beside her, leaning back and gazing up at the clouds. When she was younger, she would try to pick out shapes in the clouds. Shapes like horses, or hearts. Would she see a heart in the sky today? As if to answer her question, a chilling breeze gently blew over her and she shivered. She used to believe in love. Before she married Colonel Tavington.
She sat up and opened her basket, removing the things that one of the servants had packed for her. A small basket of grapes, some enticing cheeses, and a loaf of fresh baked bread. Amanda broke off a piece of bread and chewed thoughtfully, peering into the creek for goldfish.
"Excuse me, madam," a voice said from behind her. Startled, Amanda hurriedly got to her feet and turned to see the young officer she'd noticed at dinner last night. He was approaching her, a small smile on his boyish face.
"I did not mean to startle you," he went on. "Please, sit down."
She didn't. She grabbed her hat and hurriedly replaced it over her hair and folded her hands in front of her. "What can I do for you?" she asked.
"Nothing. I was just taking a walk through the area and I stumbled upon you, that is all." He smiled at her. "Really, you may sit back down. I think nothing of it."
Amanda eyed him, and then, deciding that he was harmless, took her place on the blanket. "Would you care to join me?" she asked him hesitantly.
"Of course," he replied. He sat down on the ground next to her and smiled again. "Early lunch?"
"Yes," Amanda answered. "Would you like something to eat?" She offered the loaf of bread towards him. He broke off a piece for himself and took a bite, never taking his eyes from her face. "Thank you," he said after he had swallowed.
Who was this man? Amanda glanced around nervously, afraid of someone else discovering Mrs. Tavington sitting, unchaperoned, with another man. She could be charged with infidelity. "If there's nothing more to be discussed, I shall be on my way," she stated.
The man shook his head. "Please do not leave on my accord. I must confess that while I was taking a walk, I saw you here and decided to bid you a hello. I have seen you around the plantation."
Amanda just looked at him. Surely he had to know that she was the Colonel's wife.
"I am Captain Joel Schafer," he went on in introduction.
"Mrs. Amanda Tavington," she replied pointedly.
Captain Schafer nodded. "Ah, yes. The Colonel is a very lucky man."
She'd heard enough. Getting to her feet, she nodded towards him. "Good day, Captain," she said cordially. Turning, she started to head towards the plantation.
"Wait, Mrs. Tavington," she heard him call, but she paid no mind. Nevertheless, he caught up to her. "I apologize," he said when he reached her. She was still walking, so he fell into step beside her. "I did not mean to be forward. It is only that you always look so forlorn. I thought I might be friendly."
She glanced at him and saw nothing but earnestness in his brown eyes. With a sigh, she stopped walking and turned to face him. "Then I apologize for being rude," she answered.
Captain Schafer grinned. "Very well then."
"May I inquire as to why you are not on campaign with the other soldiers?" Amanda asked.
"My regiment was not assigned to leave," he replied. "We are still awaiting orders from Cornwallis. In the meantime, we are on guard at the plantation."
"I see." Amanda studied him closely. He looked nice enough. But why had he taken an interest in her? He was a very brave man, she figured. Any man who would approach the Colonel's wife in such a familiar manner must have been very brave indeed.
"Well, I shall be heading back to my duties," Captain Schafer said, tipping his hat to her. "Good day, Mrs. Tavington."
"Good day," she replied. She watched as he headed across the south lawn, shaking her head at the odd encounter. Then she returned inside the plantation to her quarters. It didn't occur to her until much later that she'd left her blanket and picnic basket by the creek.
It turned out that William's Green Dragoons were gone only a few days before they returned to Middleton Place. Amanda was seated at her desk, writing in her journal, when the sound of horses hooves made her look out the window. She saw a few officers riding through the front entrance, led by the Colonel. She blew on the ink to dry it in her book and then closed it, slipping it into one of the desk drawers. Then she hurried downstairs to meet her husband.
Unfortunately, he was in a sore mood. When she reached the parlor, she saw him standing with his subordinate, Borden, and a man that she did not recognize. "Damn this," he was saying. "I will find that man if it is the last thing I do. I refuse to be further humiliated!"
Borden and the other man exchanged a look and then Borden opened his mouth. But Tavington had already turned on his heel and was heading for the stairway. Amanda stepped forward. "William--" she began.
But he brushed by her. "Leave me, Amanda," he said crossly. Amanda watched as he disappeared up the stairs, feeling a lump in her throat. Then she silently cursed herself for allowing him to affect her this way. She had to harden her heart to his cruelty.
She glanced at the officers in the parlor and found them staring back at her sympathetically. "Do not fret, miss," Borden spoke up. "Things are not progressing to the Colonel's liking."
Amanda nodded and offered a small smile. Then she took a deep breath and began up the stairs.
Tavington was seated at the desk when Amanda returned to the quarters. She held her breath when she saw that he was perched over a small book. She would be mortified if he found her journal. In it, she recorded her most personal thoughts and feelings. Most of them were about him. And William was not the sort of man that she would allow to read such private thoughts, even if he was her husband.
But it was a simple ledger and he was recording numbers in it. Amanda let out her breath and closed the door behind her. Wordlessly, she crossed the room to the desk. Maybe if she attempted kindness, he would let her in. "William," she said softly, so as not to startle him.
He didn't even glance up, nor did he reply. He had tossed his uniform jacket on the bed and was sitting in just his shirt and green vest. Amanda picked up the jacket and folded it nearly before she spoke again. "Are you all right?" she asked.
He slammed the book closed so forcefully that she jumped. Immediately she regretted having spoken. "No, Amanda, I am not all right," he snapped. When he turned to face her, his blue eyes were flashing. "Would you like to know why we are still in South Carolina? Bridges are being burned, cargo ferries captured, and it's being done by a militia and a leader that we cannot bloody find!" He slammed his fist on the desk for emphasis and Amanda jumped again. Her heart was pounding fearfully.
"And would you like to know what's more, Amanda?" He got to his feet and towered over her and Amanda shrank back from him, truly afraid. "What's more is that your beloved France has now pledged it's alliance to the bloody colonials. Do you know how this humiliates me? That the native country of my wife is an ally to the enemy?"
Amanda was shocked, but she tried to remain calm. "But William, I am certainly loyal to you and to England," she whispered.
"That does not matter!" he yelled. "It humiliates my reputation all the same."
"I am sorry," she said.
"You bloody well ought to be. What in God's name am I to do with you now? I can't very well send you back on a ship to England where your security may be compromised. Nor can I escort you myself."
She lowered her head. A very small part of her felt relieved that he did, at least, care about her safety. "If I did not speak, no one need know I am French," she answered.
"Do not sass me," he snapped. "You and I both know you cannot not speak for an entire voyage."
"I am quiet," she insisted.
He laughed, but it was a hard, bitter laugh. "Don't I know that," he responded. "Nevermind. We shall deal with this matter later. Now I must prepare for a ball tonight, where I am sure to catch Cornwallis' wrath. The bloody fool blames me for this militia uprising, as if I personally am responsible for these Rebels."
Amanda hadn't known of that night's event, and as she learned of it, she felt a knot of dread forming in her stomach. Once, she had loved balls. Nothing pleased her more than to dress up and dance and giggle with her girlfriends. Now, however, balls meant standing on Tavington's arm while he discussed warfare with his comrades. It was extremely boring. She never understood what they were talking about.
Nevertheless, she helped him prepare. She drew a bath for him and while he soaked in the fresh water, she laid out his laundered uniform. She dabbed a bit of cologne into the fabric around the collar of his uniform jacket. Cologne was usually reserved for special occasions, so she made sure not to use too much. When he was dressed, she brushed his long hair and pulled it tight into its queue. While she brushed, he did not speak to her. She wondered what he was thinking. But judging from the stormy look on his face, she decided that she did not want to know.
After he was dressed, he looked at himself in the mirror and gave a curt nod of approval. Then he turned to Amanda and frowned. "I hope you're not planning to attend like that," he said. Amanda glanced at herself in the mirror. She was wearing a casual afternoon dress and her hair was pulled only halfway up, uncovered.
She opened her mouth to answer, but he continued, "I'll send for a house maid to come and help you prepare." His eyes traveled her body and back up again and he added, "You're too thin, Amanda. That dress positively hangs off of your figure."
Was he worried? Amanda raised her eyes to him, but all he said was, "I do not wish for my wife to walk around looking like a starving pauper."
"Of course," she replied. "I will take better care of my appearance."
"You do that," he agreed. "I expect to see you in one hour." With that, he turned and left the room. Amanda gazed after him. She felt the tears begin, but she pushed them back. Not a moment too soon. A moment later, a cheerful, red-haired maid entered the room. "I'm Jessamyn, Mrs. Tavington."
Amanda offered her a small smile, grateful for a friendly presence after the harsh coldness of her husband.
Jessamyn helped Amanda prepare. After she had bathed, she put on the fanciest dress that she had brought with her. It was full, with plenty of lace and satin, and it was made of a deep, purple material. The skirt fell heavily around her feet and brushed the floor. Over her stockings, she slipped on purple silk slippers. Then she sat down at her vanity and Jessamyn did her make-up, and then styled her hair into a fashionable style, piled high on top of her head. A few loose strands drifted about her face, and Jessamyn curled them with an iron. Finally, Amanda put on her earrings. The amethyst studs had been a wedding gift from William, one of the few gifts he'd ever given her.
"Do I look nice?" Amanda asked when she stood in front of the mirror. It had been past one hour and she was running late. Outside, darkness had fallen and several guests had already arrived.
"You look beautiful, Mrs. Tavington," Jessamyn answered sincerely.
Amanda smiled at her. "Merci beaucoup," she said. "Thank you."
Jessamyn nodded and Amanda turned. She picked up a small fan and then headed downstairs to join the ball.
Many guests were mingling in the parlor and front hallways, but more were outside, enjoying the clear, cloudless night. Amanda made her way towards one of the drawing rooms, searching for Tavington. After a few moments, she heard his voice coming from inside. She also heard the voice of Cornwallis. Amanda paused and hesitated outside of the doorway. She dared to peer around the corner and she saw Tavington standing with Cornwallis as Cornwallis dressed. Or rather, as several private soldiers dressed Cornwallis. Cornwallis looked even more furious than Tavington had that day. And as for William, he was hiding his anger well. He looked much calmer now. Amanda waited.
"Colonel Tavington," Cornwallis said, "why, after six weeks, am I still here in Middleton Place, attending a ball in South Carolina, when I should be attending balls in North Carolina?"
Tavington didn't reply and Cornwallis went on. "First the theft of my personal belongings, including my memoirs, on which I have spent countless hours. Then, half the bridges and ferries between here and Charlestown? Burned." The General let out a disgusted breath. "Colonel, if you can't protect our supply lines against militia, then how do you expect to do so against the colonial Regulars? Or the French, when they arrive?"
Tavington took a breath. "My Lord, they won't fight like Regulars. We can't find them."
Cornwallis looked very aggravated. "Colonel, they're militia," he snapped, impatient. "They're. . .they're farmers. With pitchforks."
"They're quite a bit more than that, I'm afraid," Tavington answered. "Made so by their commander. This ghost."
Amanda drew in her breath.
But Cornwallis was hearing none of it. "Ghost, ghost, ghost," he repeated. "You created this ghost, Colonel."
"My Lord?" Tavington asked, surprised.
"Your brutality has swelled their ranks, without which this ghost would have disappeared by now. And I would be in North Carolina or Virginia by now."
"In my own defense--" Tavington began through clenched teeth, but Cornwallis cut him off with a scoff. "Fine soldier you are," he muttered, his voice condescending. "Bested by a bedtime story." He turned to one of the privates and gestured for his coat. "Give me the horse blanket."
Tavington turned and stalked out of the room without another word. Amanda shrunk back against the wall and let him pass. Fortunately, he didn't see her. The last thing she wanted was for him to know she had been eavesdropping. Tavington headed for the front door and onto the lawn. Amanda let a few moments pass, and then she followed him.
She found him a few yards from the entrance, drinking a glass of champagne. She didn't speak, just let him know that she was there by laying her hand on his arm. "You're late," he said without looking at her. He drowned his glass and reached for another, taking a few more sips before he finally turned to look at her. For just a brief moment, the look in his eyes changed from anger to appreciation. He gazed at her quickly and then offered a quivery smile. "You look nice, Mandy," he said.
Amanda smiled back at him. "Thank you," she answered demurely.
He offered his arm and she took it. Together, they began working their way through the crowd. She noticed that he steered clear of Cornwallis, instead choosing to engage conversation with Borden. While they talked, Amanda's mind wandered. She gazed around at the crowds, admiring other women's dresses and watching the Ashley River sparkle in the distance.
"Isn't that right, Amanda?" Tavington said suddenly. Startled, Amanda snapped to attention. "Oui. Right," she replied, even though she knew not what they were discussing.
William narrowed his eyes slightly at her before turning back to Borden. Amanda tried to pay attention from that point on, but suddenly, in the distance there was a loud rumble. Amanda whirled her head around just in time to see the resting ship on the bank explode into flames.
Gasps went up from the crowd and Amanda's eyes widened in shock. Next to her, she felt Tavington's entire body stiffen. And somewhere nearby, Susan Middleton began laughing. "Oh, fireworks," she exclaimed giddily. "How lovely!" And she clapped her hands.
Amanda glanced nervously up at William; he simply rolled his eyes and tipped his head back, downing the last of his champagne. Then he slammed the glass onto the marble stone walkway. It shattered into thousands of tiny glass pieces.