Chapter Twelve - Banastre's Remorse

"Matthew," Beth called, rising from the chaise. "Did Aunt Charlotte take the carriage?"

"Yes, Miss Martin," Matthew advised. Beth sighed heavily.

"I'll wait then, I'm certain she won't be much longer," she replied. Matthew nodded and promised he would bring a cup of tea for her. Beth wanted nothing more to go home, to crawl into her bed, pull up her covers and stay there for the rest of her time in Charles Town. But she did not feel up to the long walk, not if she was to begin weeping half way there. She had already suffered bouts of weeping and bouts of rage, her emotions swinging wildly in the hour since Mary had left her.

Just as she made up her mind to lay down on the bed in her old room at Charlotte's manor, Matthew returned to announce that Beth had a visitor.

"Lieutenant Colonel Banastre Tarleton, Miss Martin. He says he is to ride out of Charles Town today and wishes to fare you well before he goes. Will you see him?"

"No!" Beth said urgently, feeling that wild swing in her emotions again. "I do not wish to see him!"

Matthew gave her a puzzled glance and turned to leave.

"Wait!" She called him back. "He's leaving, is he? No, you are to send him in, I've changed my mind."

"Are you certain?" Matthew frowned. "I can send him away."

"No," Beth said, strengthening her resolve. "I have some things I must say to him, now before he leaves. Or I'll regret it to my dying days."

"Ah... Very well," the butler said uncertainly. "I will remain near to hand in case you need me."

Clearly he was concerned and Beth didn't blame him. She was not usually so indecisive and it was clear she was distressed - he had seen her tears earlier. Beth had not been able to hide her grief.

A few moments later, Banastre was shown into the parlor.

Beth took one look at him and she stiffened with outrage. Unable to look at him, such was her disgust, she turned her back on him and headed over to gaze out of the large bank of windows, taking the time she needed to gather herself.

Banastre's smile faltered and he gazed at her back with some confusion.

"Miss Martin," he said warmly, though he was a little flustered at her cold greeting. Crossing the room to stand behind her, he swallowed hard and cleared his throat before trying again.

"Miss Martin, are you well?"

No I am not bloody well! You wagered on my virginity! You thought I would bed you - what sort of loose woman do you take me for? Beth continued to rage, but in silence for the time being. She needed to gather her nerve, despite her fury.

"Ah," Banastre faltered, clearly confused by her behaviour. "I am sorry for dropping in on you like this, I discovered you were here and I wanted to see you before leaving. You see, Sir Clinton is not allowing me to tarry a moment longer, the Raiders and I ride out for New Jersey, within the hour. I've spent the morning saying good bye to my friends and I could not leave without saying farewell to you."

Banastre gazed down at her, waiting for something from her, anything at all.

"Beth?" He said softly, he had never addressed her so familiarly before. "Please, my darling? Tell me what is wrong." He reached his hand up to her neck and caressed his fingers along her soft skin gently.

"You are leaving?" Beth asked, finally turning to face him. Her brown eyes were cold, they were ice.

"Yes, my darling," Banastre said quietly.

"Your darling?" Beth scoffed. "You would not treat me so ill, if I were your darling."

"Beth, please, tell me what is wrong, tell me how to fix it, I'm dying my love," Banastre said earnestly. He was about to ride out. He did not know when, or even if, he would see her again and he was, quite simply, dying. She was being so cold!

Beth pulled her eyes away from Banastre and shook her head. And understanding hit him like a bucket of cold water had been tipped over his head. His heart sunk to his feet.

She knows... I don't know how, but she does. That damned wager! Pain twisted his face and he reached out to took her gently by the arms drawing her close to him.

"Oh, Beth, I am so sorry. I should never have agreed to the wager, I do not know why I did."

Tears sprang to her eyes, her face crumpled with pain. His heart lurched to be the cause of her grief.

"It was his idea then?" She said despairingly. "Lord... You would have taken my virginity, Banastre! Or he would have! And then what? Am I so much rubbish to you both, to be treated so?"

"No! Oh, my love, no!" Banastre said frantically, passionately. "I'm a fool, my darling. Oh, Beth, say you'll forgive me, please!"

"I only found out an hour ago! I've barely had time to... to... absorb this let alone forgive you! I am so bloody angry! How could you? My virginity, for £50? Would you have bedded me and then passed me on to him when you were done?"

"Lord no! William is one of my closest friends. But the thought of him having you..." His queue whipped around his shoulders as Banastre shook his head violently. "I couldn't stand it!"

"Then what?" Beth asked ruthlessly. "You would have discarded me afterward?"

"I would not have discarded you afterward! I have more compassion than that, and a genuine affection for you!"

"But you would not have married me, would you? Admit it! You would have used me, ruined me. I was to be your mistress," Beth spat the word. "You 'gentlemen' would do as you pleased without a care that you would have destroyed my virtue! For fifty pounds!"

"Beth, I am in love with you!" Banastre declared earnestly.

"Banastre," Beth sighed, her anger drained from her and she felt suddenly tired. She put her hand to her forehead, there was a headache growing just behind her eyes. "Please stop, just stop. You do not even know me, we only just met! Professions of love will not help you win the wager."

"I am not trying to win the God damned wager!" Tarleton snapped. She stared up at him, eyes wide and wary.

Breathing raggedly, Banastre closed his eyes and lowered his forehead to hers. He still held her by the arms gently, keeping her body close to his.

"I'm sorry, Beth," he said quietly. "This is just so hopeless, so frustrating. I never intended to hurt you, darling. I am sincerely in love with you. Have you not heard of love at first sight?"

Feeling confused, Beth did not pull away.

Yes, I've fallen in love with Colonel Tavington, I was captivated by him from the start. Burwell told me he has loved me since the first time he met me. I was only sixteen.

"Yes, I have. But how am I to believe your sincerity, in the face of this wager?"

Banastre shook his head and sighed. "The fucking wager!" He groaned. "I should never have made it!"

"No, you should not have." Beth did not bat an eyelid over his use of profanity. It was the least of her concerns just then.

He fixed his eyes on hers, willing her to believe him. "Beth, words can not express..." He stopped to draw a deep, ragged breath. "I am sorry. I love you and I hope one day you will forgive me."

Beth frowned, her confusion deepening. Banastre was wearing his heart on his sleeve, she had no doubt of his sincerity, not now. Encouraged by her silence, Banastre wrapped his arms around her waist. He drew her body to his and lowered his head to her shoulder. He held still for sometime, breathing deeply and relishing the feel of her. He was well aware he may never hold her again, this could be their first, and last, embrace.

Beth knew it too, knew he could die during his mission routing Patriots. Deciding to make peace with him, Beth put her hands on his hips to return his embrace. She felt Banastre sigh with relief. Neither said a word as the minutes ticked by. He did not try to kiss her, judging now was not the right time. He was just grateful she would let him hold her before he left.

"I have to go," he said finally. "Beth, I am so sorry I hurt you." He brushed a long, lingering kiss on her cheek before stepping back from her. He held her gaze for a few moments before turning to walk from the room.

"Stay safe, Sir," Beth called quietly before he reached the door, and Banastre turned back to her. "I am angry with you now, furious even. But I do not wish you harm."

His resolve not to kiss her crumbled to dust. In three quick strides he stood before her again and pulled her against him, with a groan of mingled despair and pleasure he brushed his lips against hers.

Beth's eyes opened wide with surprise, but she did not pull away from him. It was not the searing kiss she had from Tavington or the knee weakening kiss she had from Burwell. It felt... Nice... Soft, sweet, warm...

Banastre moved his lips against hers slowly, softly. He deepened the kiss slightly. He wanted nothing more than to touch his tongue to hers, however he resisted the urge and he kept the kiss chaste. Finally he drew back and stared at her intently, trying to etch her face in his memory.

"Do I still have your permission to write to you?"

"Banastre... I do not know... Everything is so complicated now..." Beth looked away then sighed. If he died out there on the field, she did not want their last words to one another to have been a refusal. "Yes, you may still write to me.

"Thank you," Tarleton caressed her face with his fingers. "I do love you, darling Beth."

Beth nodded.

"I believe you," she replied.

Tarleton brushed one last kiss on her lips, then turned and strode from the room.

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Mary stepped down from the carriage and made way for Beth and Cilla to follow. She held her skirts above her ankles and carefully wound her way a pile of horse droppings. Beth and Cilla followed, they joined the long line of people waiting to enter the hall - all speaking excitedly of the night ahead.

They eventually made their way inside, the heat from the hall hitting them like a wave. It was a hot Summer night, but it was still much cooler outside.

"See? Lots and lots of Redcoats, but not a single Colonel. We will have fun, Beth!" Mary's silk skirts swished as she made her way through the throng of people, young women, young Colonial men, and Redcoats, all talking and laughing, some where already dancing. She had been so relieved and excited when Beth announced she would attend the ball, and she would still attend the stay over with the other girls at Mary's house. She decided she must thank Cilla later, knowing it was Cilla's words to Beth that helped her to make her decision.

"Don't you dare let those horrid men ruin our plans! Don't you dare wallow and cower in your bed! A dance and fun with you friends is just the thing you need!"

"I know, I've been looking forward to tonight for over a week. I am still a little concerned about later on tonight, though," Beth stopped alongside Mary and Cilla caught up. "Perhaps we should not sleep at your house tonight, Mary."

"No!" Cilla protested. "And disapoint the others? Besides, if what Mary says is true, then Tavington will be at some tavern playing cards and dicing, he will not be home until we are all fast asleep in our beds. He probably won't even know we are there."

"And in the morning?" Beth was not mollified.

"He leaves so early to go to the Assembly Hall," Mary explained all over again. "He, Captain Bordon and the other Green Dragoons. We will have breakfast in peace - honestly, Beth. You are worried for nothing! Do not let it spoil your evening. You look so beautiful, you both do! And you already have the attention of some young gentlemen, watching from the corner there," Mary giggled as she looked past Cilla's and Beth's shoulders. She pulled out her fan and waved it over her face. "Oh, there is Colin... He is coming over, my heart is pounding!"

"Ladies," Colin bowed when he reached them. He took each by the hand to plant a light kiss above their fingers. He kissed Mary's hand last, but he did not let go.

"See? We will have fun, and Colin will protect Beth. Won't you, Colin?" Cilla asked.

"Protect you from whom?" Colin posed the question to Beth.

"Tavington," Cilla replied with distaste.

"I don't think he will be here," Colin was suddenly wary, he looked around them for sign of the Officer. "Here is your Private Watson, Beth, he is coming over."

"Cilla!" A woman's voice called. "There you all are! What took you so long to get here?" Rebecca embraced each of her friends.

"Probably wanting to make a grand entrance!" Sarah Wilkins quipped at Rebecca's side.

"Evening ladies," Private Watson joined them, he greeted each young woman. A few other young men joined them, Rebecca's older brothers, twins Michael and Marcus Middleton. It was the usual group, at each gathering it was always the same companions that came together, they enjoyed each others company. Private Watson was the only Englishman, the only Redcoat, but he fit in with the others as though he had known them for years.

He stood beside Beth and the small group began chatting companionably.

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