Margaret and James stepped outside to rest from the dancing and make room for other couples. James introduced Margaret to several men he knew from the legislature and his life before the army. Margaret let her attention wander, not wanting to miss any of the sights or sounds of the party. She saw two officers stride down the stairs purposefully. The elaborate gold braiding on the shoulders of their coats set them apart as high command.

"Lord General Cornwallis does not look pleased." The man James had been talking to said suddenly. "I wonder what could have upset the general so much…"

The man moved away and Margaret and James watched the exchange closely.

"The taller man is the Lord General." James whispered to Margaret. "The man beside him is General O'Hara, one of his aides."

Margaret saw Colonel Tavington come out of the house behind the Lord General. Margaret could discern little difference in him. Except for his usual trappings of sword and pistol and his lack of helmet, Colonel Tavington didn't look at all like he had risen to the occasion.

"I would imagine the Lord General's ire has everything to do with the Colonel's order to offload arms and munitions first."

"What else would be of interest aboard ship?" Margaret asked. James sighed and then looked around, trying to see if anyone was standing too close. He held his arm to Margaret and guided her away from most of the guests.

"Do you remember what I told you about the raids last autumn?" James asked. "About a particular raid in which the Lord General had a vested interest?"

"Yes…." Margaret answered cautiously.

"It's taken this long to bring over a replacement wardrobe for the Lord General."

"Oh my…that would explain the…" Margaret illustrated the mess of gold braiding that had been looped around the Colonel's shoulder.

"Well, I think he was hoping for fair winds to being the ship in sooner….unfortunately the winds were against him."

"Poor man." Margaret looked back towards where Cornwallis and O'Hara were moving farther down the garden. "He should have come to the camps and had one of the women make him one…we'd have done much better than his valet obviously did." James pulled her to a stop abruptly.

"Come, this is not forgetting life outside this moment. Let us return to the festivities." James said straightening. Margaret and James rejoined the party and milled about some more before Millicent found them.

"James! Margaret!" Millicent flitted down towards them, looking far younger than she was. "Margaret, I was so hoping you'd let me steal my cousin from you for a moment. I would so like to dance…."

"By all means!" Margaret said with a smile. "It's the least I could do for all you've done for me."

Millicent wrapped her arm through James' and pulled him up towards the house. "Come Jamie, they're about to start a reel. I do so love the reels…."

"Miss St. Clair, isn't it?" Margaret turned to see Colonel Tavington standing behind her.

"Colonel Tavington." The Colonel bowed, extending his hand to take hers, which she gave to him before dipping a small curtsey. "You look well this evening."

"As do you. I hardly recognized you. Champagne?" The Colonel snatched two glasses from a footman and handed her one. "And how do you find the evening?"

Margaret was taken aback by the man's soft voice and level of politeness. His clipped tones and harsh voice were being held in check this evening. Standing right in front of him, Margaret realized the Colonel was not in fact wearing a special coat, nor one that was ornamented for the evening. He was wearing his every day uniform, without even the benefit of gold trim down the facings of the coat.

"I'm finding the evening quite well, actually."

"Far better than scrubbing and stitching I should wager."

"Or spying." Margaret took relish in seeing the Colonel splutter into his wine.

"Touche, madame scout." The Colonel brushed at imaginary lint on his coat. "It's been some time since I've felt the sharp side of that tongue of yours."

"But not so long that you don't remember the sting. It would seem the Lord General is less than pleased with you." Margaret saw Tavington's fist tighten at his side and a muscle along his jaw twitched, but she would not stop. "From the glares he's been casting your way, I'd say he gave you the sharp side of his tongue. Or he will by evenings' end."

Heaving a sigh the Colonel shook his head and then glanced over her shoulder. "I was going to ask you to honor me with a dance that I might impartto you information about your family, but since you're less than disposed towards me this evening…." The Colonel raised his glass in a mock salute and made to wander off into the crowd in search of easier and gentler banter, but Margaret reached out quickly and grasped his sleeve before he got too far away.

"What information?" Margaret's heart pounded beneath her stays, blood rushed in her ears, and she was certain all of South Carolina could hear it. "What do you know?"

The Colonel glanced at where she clutched at his coat, then brought his icy gaze to her own face. Margaret swallowed hard but tried to remain calm in the face of the new game he was playing.

"That information is conditional…."

"You said a dance."

"So I did." The Colonel turned and held his arm out towards her, acting the part of a gentleman. Margaret took a deep breath and tried to act normal, but her heart pounded uncontrollably. What did Colonel Tavington know about her family? The large room that had been set aside for dancing was packed with people watching the dancers. Margaret and Colonel Tavington took up a position at the edge of the floor and waited for the dance to end. Margaret saw James glance her way, his brow furrowing at her choice of partner.

"So, what is it you know?"

"Can't stand the anticipation, scout?" Margaret glanced out of the corner of her eye at the man standing next to her. To anyone else in the room, he might have been paying attention to the dancers in front of him, but Margaret knew he was watching her out of the corner of his eye as much as she was watching him.

"Either it's recent, or you've been holding on to it for some time….a bargaining chip of some sort?"

"Hmmm….could be either." Margaret tried not to clench her jaw as she watched the dancers move through the set.

Insufferable man!

When the music ended, the dancers traded out and Margaret found herself facing Colonel Tavington. As the music started, Tavington bowed and then took her hand to move her through the motions of the dance.

"They are safe." He finally said, turning her about and passing her off to the other man in the set. Soon she found herself back with Tavington, his hand went to her waist, as was dictated by the dance and Margaret felt his warm fingertips through her gown, a gentle pressure moving her here and there across the floor. He was actually a quite fine dancer.

"My men shot the pigs." Margaret looked up at him a moment and he glanced down at her, one eyebrow arching. "It was the livestock they were killing. Not your family." Margaret was handed off again and when she got back, Tavington took up where he left off. "For all I know, they're still on that plantation. We have yet to go anywhere near it again and they've no reason to contact us. Your stepfather doesn't seem to care much about you."

"He has four children to feed and care for, I'm not his, nor am I helpless."

"I know." Tavington turned her again, a smile touching his lips. "You've proven that countless times. You're a remarkable woman, Scout." The music ended and the dancers came to a stop, Margaret's eyes grew wide and she nearly forgot to curtsey, the compliment had thrown her so off guard. She sank into an uneven curtsey, never taking her eyes from Colonel Tavington. Margaret sensed rather than saw the other dancers moving away, some of them staring at where she and Tavington had yet to move from the floor.

"Miss St. Clair?" James Wilkins' voice broke into her thoughts and she distractedly took his arm.

"Thank You Colonel Tavington." Margaret blurted, suddenly finding her voice. "You've done much to put my mind at ease."

"My pleasure…" His eyes drifted down to the hem of her gown and as he walked by her he paused. "Interesting choice of footwear my dear."

And then he disappeared into the crowd.


Millicent, James and Margaret moved down the pathway, islands of torchlight illuminating the guests who had gathered in small clusters in the grass beside the path. The torches also helped keep the early season mosquitos at bay. James escorted the two ladies towards one such group where he knew most of the people there. Margaret smiled and spoke with the women of the group while the men discussed levies and taxes and other such matters. Suddenly a low rumble filled the air. Margaret's eyes were drawn to the water front. She watched, helpless and horror stricken as the ship bobbing at anchor splintered, the stern blowing completely off and the port rail shattering into millions of tiny pieces. Even half way up the garden, Margaret felt the concussion of the blast and could feel the heat of the flames on her face. She heard women scream while others gasped or swooned. She even thought she heard laughter. Margaret impulsively reached down and grasped James' hand.

"Captain Wilkins?" One of the women in their group asked, "Is this a demonstration of the army's military might?"

"I'm afraid it isn't." Margaret looked around and found Tavington in the crowd knocking back more Champagne before smashing the glass on the paving stones. Lord General Cornwallis' face was almost as red as his coat. The man looked about ready to explode as well. Margaret felt James squeeze her hand and she abruptly looked up at him. "Excuse me…."

Margaret followed behind, lifting the fine skirts to keep up with James' impossibly long stride. "James, wait…" James slowed his pace slightly, allowing her to catch up. "Do you think it was Colonials?"

"I'm certain it was." He stopped suddenly and grasped her arms tightly. "Stay here. You'll be safe here. I'll return as soon as I can." He was quickly lost in a crowd of red coats moving towards the stables. Another wave of scarlet was making its way towards the water front. Many officers simply converged on the Lord General.

It was over an hour and well past dark when the men returned. James found Margaret in the drawing room and pulled her outside where they could speak privately.

"We found nothing. It was too dark by the time we got to the river and any tracks were obscured by infantry that responded." James looked into the darkness where parts of the ship still burned above the waterline. "Of course, with that evidence, or the lack thereof, in mind, the Colonel thinks it's the ghost."

"So much for forgetting the war…." Margaret sighed. "I see now there wasn't enough magic. My wishes were too big. Ce qui sera."

"Nonsense…there's still time." James grasped her hands in his. "One more dance? "

Margaret mulled it over for a moment. She did so want to dance, but the tone of the night was already ruined. "If you don't enjoy the rest of the night, you've let them win." James nodded at the waterfront.

"Alors laissez-nous danser, le capitaine."

"Laissez-nous danser, ma belle."


Though the party continued well into the night, most people could talk of nothing but the brazen explosion on the river. Most people tried to remain indoors, the delicate noses of the upper crust offended by the smell of burning pitch and hempen rope that drifted up from the wreckage. James hardly let Margaret leave his side, but the house grew stale and hot with the press of so many bodies. They went outside and sat on one of the stone benches that lined the walks.

"I assume that Colonel Tavington will be leaving in the early hours tomorrow." Margaret said into the darkness. "He'll want to track the ghost as best he can."

"I think he'll have to wait. He and Borden are still inside….if the officers aren't well rested, we'll be in for a rough day tomorrow."

The evening had grown chill, the humidity of the day turning the evening air damp and cool. Margaret wrapped her arms around her middle and chafed her arms, trying to stay warm and cease the slight shivers that seemed to be racing up and down her arms. James shrugged out of his coat and draped it across Margaret's shoulders. She smiled her thanks and pulled the collar closer to her bare neck.

"You don't think we should leave then?" She asked, glancing up at the man walking beside her. "So you're prepared for tomorrow?"

"Not if you don't want to." Margaret laughed. She wanted to live in this night forever, in spite of Colonial terrorism. A beautiful dress and handsome man and luxury were all to be had in this place, this night. Returning to the camp was the last thing she wanted.

"A few moments more, then?" She asked, impulsively gripping his hand. "Just another turn around the gardens…" James smiled, his teeth flashing white in the pale light.

"And maybe one more dance?"

"Of course!" Margaret laughed and the two of them strolled into the dark of the night.

Millicent came to find Margaret in the press of people barely an hour later.

"I'm for bed my dear. I'm not as young as I used to be." She smiled, patting cheeks that were still smooth and youthful, in spite of what she said. "When you're ready, do come upstairs to change. You won't wake me at all. I could probably sleep through another explosion!"

"I'm ready now." Margaret smiled. "It's been a wonderful night. More than I could have dreamed." Margaret and Millicent went upstairs and Margaret slowly changed out of the lovely blue and copper gown she'd borrowed and slipped back into her camp dress of petticoat and short gown.

"Good evening my dear. Do write me. Keep me up to date and tell me of your travels and of James' health. Sometimes I think he tries to protect me from the grizzly truths of war."

"I will, I promise." Margaret was suddenly folded into Millicent's perfumed embrace.

"And take care of yourself as well!" She whispered. Margaret nodded and returned the other woman's hug. She had hardly felt this level of compassion since her mother had married John. It felt good to be cared about, even if only for a moment. Margaret retreated from the room and went down the back stairs and out the warming kitchen door. A shadow detached itself from the low bushes of the walk way and Margaret half screamed in terror, grasping her chest lest her heart burst through her ribs.

"It's just me, Margaret." James stepped into the faint light and Margaret relaxed. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"What are you doing back here?" Margaret hissed, calming her rattled nerves. "You scared me half to death!"

"I was waiting to escort you. I thought you might try to sneak out the back." Margaret heaved a sigh and started to make her way towards the road that led to the dragoon camp. She and James walked in companionable silence as they neared the camp. Margaret was ducking towards her tent when James suddenly grasped her hand before she could move away.

"Did you enjoy yourself tonight?"

"Yes, very much." Margaret smiled in the darkness. "I'm glad you convinced me to go. I'd have regretted not."

"I'm glad you came as well." Margaret was about to pull her hand away, when James' grip tightened slightly, preventing her from going towards her tent. "There's something I have to know first…."

"What's th…?" Margaret had no time to think as James gently tugged her forward and his lips suddenly pressed against hers, effectively rendering her speechless.

Margaret had never felt anything like what she experienced in that brief moment. Her heart beat frantically and her breath stilled. His lips were soft against hers, and warm. In the darkness, Margaret couldn't be sure if her eyes were open, or shut until she made a conscious effort to open them as James eased away.

"Oh…." Margaret breathed softly, touching her fingertips to her lips.

"Good evening, Miss St. Clair." Margaret barely saw his shadow bow and she listened as the tread of his boots disappeared into the camp beyond. She wasn't sure how long she stood there like a ninny before crawling into her bed roll, but she eventually did and as she slept, she dreamt pleasant dreams for the first time in many months.