Hard to be a Bad Ass When You're Drinking Tea
Jyoti's new dress was stunning. It was a simple day dress, but it fit her body like a glove. It glided over her flat stomach and small hips. The full skirt gave the illusion she had larger hips and an hourglass figure. And she had cleavage that even a cave splunker couldn't find his way out of.
Mrs. Bower, the commander's wife, was a kind woman. Just beginning to get gray hair, and with four grandchildren she couldn't stop talking about, she gushed profusely over Jyoti. Her sewing skills were far superior to Mama or the seamstress who had made Jyoti's other two dresses. This was, including the one Milly had given her, her fourth dress in 1778. Few woman got so many new dresses a year. For free. Mrs. Bower was able to alter this one, a donation from another army wife who was rather small herself, and promised to get another one, a fancier one, finished by tomorrow. And a riding habit as well. When Jyoti had assured her she wouldn't be allowed outside the fort, Mrs. Bower changed the idea into another, more fashionable, day dress. And a fancy evening dress. Jyoti couldn't argue with that one, no matter how much she tried. Mrs. Bower was intent upon making her a ball gown.
All that afternoon, Jyoti sat with Mrs. Bower and they chatted. Mostly Mrs. Bower chatted. After learning first hand of Jyoti's mastery of the language, Mrs. Bower saw no problem in talking, knowing she was understood. But Jyoti was starting to get bored. While Mrs. Bower's fingers sewed and sewed and sewed, Jyoti was idle. She had no skills to help her in the lady department. She'd be better suited to some of the soldiers' tasks.
From her experience with Gaby and Dorcas, Jyoti knew how all of the fashionable clothes worked. It didn't mean, however, that she could do them herself. The corset—Mrs. Bower insisted on it though if anything it added bulk to Jyoti's waist rather than shaping it—had to be done up the back by Mrs. Bower, as well as the hooks and eyes down the back of the dress. Her hair required no effort but a comb, which Mrs. Bower frowned at but didn't comment on. In exchange, Jyoti helped Mrs. Bower do her hair into the latest French fashion, which she'd learned from Gaby. It was very fetching on the older woman in a way it hadn't been on Gaby, though the girl had looked good with anything.
They'd been ready for dinner five minutes before the knock at the door. Tarleton stood there in dress uniform glory. His hair was washed and pulled into a fresh dress queue. He bowed to the women.
"Ladies, you're both looking splendid tonight."
"As are you, Colonel," Mrs. Bower said.
His second in command, Lt. Grayson, hovered in the hall.
"Allow me to escort you to supper, Mrs. Bower," Tarleton said, extending his arm. Mrs. Bower flushed like an adolescent girl. As they left the room, Tarleton's gaze lingered on Jyoti. Grayson extended the same courtesy to Jyoti in fewer words and escorted her to the dining hall behind the other two.
Supper wasn't a fancy affair. It was a fort after all, that had to cater to hundreds of men, though the majority of men probably didn't get roast boar. Conversation circled around Tarleton's recent campaigns.
Even on the road with the other men, Jyoti had had the impression that Tarleton was a quiet man. But now she saw that he had been quiet so as not to raise a ruckus. He regaled the entire table of his exploits, blowing them up into dime novel sort of stories, some complete with damsels in distress. Jyoti's own tale became a Sleeping Beauty sort of tale, with her locked in a dungeon and him fighting through a hundred rebels to save her. The ambush on the road could have been one about knights and trolls. Or he could easily have been Robin Hood. So great was his story telling and enthusiasm, that Jyoti found herself short of breath and almost believing the new version of events. It was during the epic part where the evil rebel leader had bound and gagged Jyoti, ready to run off with her while his men held Tarleton back and he fought through them all to cut down the leader, that he looked discreetly at Jyoti and winked. She crashed back to reality, and blushed under her complexion, glad it would never give her away. A thrill went down her spine with that wink, all the way to her toes.
No one turned the conversation to Jyoti. Tarleton appeared to have done a fine job warning them that she would answer no questions of a personal or business nature. So all she had to do was look nice, smile, enjoy the food, and enjoy the company. Which she did, on all accounts.
After supper, the men retired to the Commander's study where they partook in cigars and brandy. The women retired to Mrs. Bower's private sitting room where they gossiped and sewed. Someone asked Jyoti if she played piano. She responded in the negative. Did she sing? Poorly. Sew? Hardly. Read aloud? Only when hard pressed. Dance? If they had any hip-hop and rap.
The line of questioning dropped off and, nervously, conversation resumed around the topic of husbands, children, and sewing projects. They couldn't quite figure out what she was useful for, besides keeping the regent warm between the sheets and relaying information. Jyoti was polite enough and kept her sarcastic comments to a minimum, but she was bored.
Finally, sick of talks of babies burping, she excused herself. No one noticed her leave, or so she thought, but I got the distinct impression gossip kicked up a notch once the door shut behind her.
She wandered the halls, lost, until she heard men's voices. A slightly ajar door showed the men around a table, playing poker. Tarleton, opposite the table from the door, wore a look of concentration that pulled his fine features into a near-scowl. He was fierce, but wickedly handsome. They were talking about some aspect or other of the war while they placed their bets and smoked their cigars. Jyoti smiled as she watched him. The girl had it bad for the nonfictional character.
Caught up as we were, we didn't hear the footsteps until a hand had spun Jyoti around.
"Spying?" Lieutenant Grayson asked. "Some regent's whore you are."
His tone was so light, so playful, anyone less suspicious than Jyoti would have thought it friendly banter. But there was ice behind his words, a suspicion to match her own.
"I got lost," she said, wrenching her arm out of his grip.
"And I just happened to catch you listening at an open door."
"I was here for one minute." Her hands went to her hips and her tone went from 18th century gentility, to 21st century bitch. "It's you that's sneaking around. I heard nothing of importance. I was trying to find the bathroom but I got lost. Ok? I thought you gentlemen might help me find my way."
Her defensive tone put Grayson on edge.
"I know Tarleton is covering for you," Grayson said. "All the Dragoons do. I don't know who you really are, but out of respect for him, I won't spread it around that you're most likely a spy or worse." He gave a derisive snort. "Though, regent's whore is apt. You might just be some variation of that."
Tarleton's keen ears picked up on the commotion just outside the door. He excused himself from the table without anyone else noticing the argument, and opened the door on Grayson's ugly scowl.
"Lieutenant? Report."
Grayson stood at attention. "I found her listening at the door, sir."
Tarleton raised an eyebrow at Jyoti. "Did you get lost?"
"Yes," she muttered, still shooting daggers at Grayson.
"Grayson," Tarleton said in a smoothly charming voice that soothed even Grayson's feathers. "Take my seat at the table. I expect you to increase my winnings by the time I get back. I'll escort Miss Mutschler back to the ladies."
"Sir." Grayson nodded his way into the study, shutting the door good and tight behind him. Tarleton didn't recognize the insult, but Jyoti did, and bristled even more. When she was agitated, her chest popped out a little further.
Tarleton, clearly a few drinks in and on a high from gambling, couldn't draw his attention away from Jyoti's body. Jyoti, clueless as always, started down the hall without him.
"You might want to put your Lieutenant in line, Colonel. He doesn't like me. And he still thinks I'm a spy."
He caught up with her and took her arm. "He hasn't gotten as far as he has by being careless. I trust the man's instincts."
"So if he says I'm a spy…"
"On that point I'll ignore him. But on many other things he tends to be right."
Jyoti sighed. "Fine. Just keep him away from me. He gives me creepy vibes."
"Will do," Tarleton said. His hand rubbed her arm absently. The rhythm was hypnotizing, and tiny little sparks started shooting up her arm and down into her belly, but Jyoti was starting to realize Tarleton smelled a little too much like brandy. "What were you really doing wandering around?"
"I was bored," Jyoti said. "The ladies are nice but they're boring."
"You need to be careful walking around here. I told you, you cannot leave."
"I know what doors to the outdoors looks like, Colonel. If I saw one, I would have kept walking until I found something else to look at. Like that lovely tapestry. Ooooh, look, pretty colors."
Tarleton chuckled. "You're a minx. I do declare, you are the most entertaining woman I have ever met."
Jyoti laughed. "That's only because you know nothing about me, Colonel. If you did, well, usually you'd get bored with a woman you knew too well. Though I suppose I am the exception to the rule."
"So if I got to know you better, I'd like you better?" His body naturally leaned into her, anticipating the flirtation.
"No," Jyoti said, staring at the end of the hallway. "You'd probably turn tail and run. I'll stay mysterious, so you don't have to be confined to the looney bin. Or rather, confine me to the looney bin."
Tarleton leaned away from her and frowned.
"Your life is that horrible?"
"Yes," was her automatic answer. I wanted to stab my eyes out because of the images that floated through her mind. It wouldn't have helped me any though; I didn't need to be linked to her to have the same thoughts myself. But then she offered a smile that didn't meet her eyes. "I mean no. It's that weird."
They were silent while they walked the length of the hallway. Tarleton's buzz seemed to be wearing off, his eyes losing a little of their glass, his mouth setting back into its firm line.
"Did I tell you how lovely you look tonight?"
Jyoti's free hand went subconsciously to the throat of her dress, as if trying to cover herself from his compliments. An invisible blush consumed her body. Since it was evening, Mrs. Bower hadn't seen the need for her to wear a fichu, so her bosom was on display. As attractive as she was, she was shy. I'd had fun times trying to get her to wear butt-hugging jeans or flattering dresses. Her preferred outfits consisted of baggy sweats, track pants, relaxed fit jeans, and oversized shirts and sweatshirts.
"Ah, thanks." The swish-swish of her skirts pissed her off. They were heavy and cumbersome. "Mrs. Bower was very nice to me. She's making me other dresses, too. I didn't stop her, since I didn't know how long I'd be here. And it seemed the proper thing for a regent's whore to do."
Tarleton stopped so abruptly, Jyoti didn't realize it until their arms pulled tight and she jerked to a halt.
"What?" she asked.
"Have the ladies been calling you that?"
"No."
"The men?" His voice was cold steel.
"No."
"Then who?"
"No one. Except Grayson. I have a vocabulary of my own, Colonel. I know how these people look at me. I don't begrudge you that. You are protecting me, better than you know. No one knows how to act around me though. I barely know how to act myself."
He pulled her in by her arm, until their bodies were close. He had to bend his head to meet her eye.
"I'm sorry if I've caused you discomfort."
"At least none of the men will be hitting on me now."
He frowned at her jest, not understanding the words.
"They know I'm off limits, so I don't have to deal with their advances," Jyoti clarified. "Their unwanted attention. To my person. Sexually, romantically, or otherwise."
Tarleton was caught between humor and confusion. Again. Finally, after much deliberation, he leaned towards humor.
" You have such a unique way of speaking, Miss Mutschler. So-"
"Crass?"
"Free," he said. "Free. Like you don't care."
She shrugged. "I don't. Not really."
They were still standing close.
"I'll take you back to the ladies now," he finally said, his voice low. He broke eye contact first, leading her down the hall again.
"Don't leave me with them," Jyoti pleaded. "I'd prefer torture to those biddies."
"I have a better idea," he said, arriving at the door.
Once inside, he made the proper greetings, flirted with some women, complimented others. Then he proposed a game of whist. Jyoti confessed she didn't know how to play, so Tarleton said he would team up with her. Together, they beat the other ladies out of their pocket change, and Jyoti picked up the game quickly. Tarleton sat his chair very, very close to her the whole time. I noticed. The ladies noticed. But Jyoti and Tarleton did not.
I considered myself a right genius the next morning.
Well, first, I considered myself cursed. Right on schedule, my period started when I woke up. Getting back to the painting, Jyoti was behind closed doors in the lavatory, and I knew exactly what was taking her so long.
Cursing under her breath, she stomped back to her room. Having helped Gaby through her monthly, Jyoti knew what sort of material she was expected to deal with. And she didn't want to. She practically banged her door shut and stomped around the room, waving her arms and swearing at the walls about cotton diapers.
I was actually pretty smug. Here I was, Midol in hand and Tampons in the bathroom. Jyoti had to use cotton stuffing in her underwear and suffer without pain killers.
That's when I became a genius. I thought, "too bad I can't magically get her tampons." Then I realized, glancing at my pack of brushes and paints—which I hadn't touched since painting this portrait—that I could.
Picking up a thin brush and bringing out my container of black paint, I found a clear swatch of wall and wrote, That time of month again?
Jyoti stomped past the wall twice before she saw it. She gaped. And gaped. And gaped.
"What the bloody hell?"
Miss me?
"Are you- Is this? You can hear me?"
And see you. I've been watching you through the painting the whole time.
"And you can write to me?" Jyoti, her mind distracted by the cramps forming in the pit of her stomach, tried to wrap her head around it. "Why the hell didn't you tell me before?"
I only just figured it out. Sorry.
I took another color and a larger brush and painted over the words, to make them smooth and unmarred once more.
I thought I could try something else, too.
Jyoti plopped down on the bed, watching the wall. On her vanity stand, I started painting an object. Jyoti watched in rapt attention as I put the finishing touches on it.
Check it out, I wrote. I want to know if it worked. I figure 2D images will convert to whatever is in my head. I painted those 2D flowers and trees after all, but they appear to you like real.
"They were real. This is real. I'm actually in 1778."
I sorta figured that out.
Jyoti blew out a breath and rolled her eyes. She picked up the box and opened it. The exact replica of my tampon box, lined up in neat little rows inside, were about two dozen little tampons. Jyoti opened one to inspect it. Dismantled it. All working parts.
"This is unreal. I love you!" she said as she tucked a tampon down her bodice and made for the bathroom.
When she came out again, she was smiling.
"How about some Midol or extra strength morphine?" she asked.
I don't feel comfortable with pills. What if something goes wrong in translation and poisons you? I don't think its worth the risk.
"Says the girl who doesn't get cramps like mine." Jyoti glared at the wall, talking to it as if I were there. I was more like an omnipresence in the room, so for her, I figured it was easier to talk to the wall.
Sorry.
A knock at the door startled her. Jyoti's eyes got wide. She hastily crammed the tampons beneath her bed. The knock sounded again. In my own panic, I had tipped my box of paints and was scrambling to right them. I needed to paint over the wall before someone saw it.
"Miss Mutschler?"
Tarleton.
Jyoti raced for the door and pulled it open just a crack. "Yes, Colonel?"
"I was wondering if you'd like to take a walk with me. I could show you more of the fort. Perhaps you could get more familiar with it. So you won't get lost again." He tacked on the last sentence quickly.
If I hadn't been so desperate to get that wall painted, or Jyoti terrified of being discovered, we would have responded better to the fact Tarleton was rambling like a preteen asking a girl out on his first date.
"Ah, no, Colonel. Not today," Jyoti said, no kindness in her voice, just distraction. She glanced back into the room. I was just beginning to paint over the wall.
"Oh." Rejection and disappointment weighed in his voice.
Jyoti looked back again. The wall was covered. It was a slightly different color than the other walls, but unless you were looking for it, you wouldn't see it.
"I meant," Jyoti caught on to Tarleton's dejected expression, "I'm not feeling well today, Colonel. I'd like to rest."
"Oh, nothing is the matter is it?" he asked, concern now evident. "Something you ate? Are you ill? Shall I call for the doctor?"
"Nothing of the kind," Jyoti said, holding up a hand to stop him. "I'm just not feeling well." She spaced each word carefully, and lifted her eyebrows at him.
It took him a moment, but clarity dawned.
"Ah," he said, uncomfortable. "Please, let me know if I can get you anything. Should I send for the women?"
"No. Please. Just, let people know I'd like to be left alone today. I might go back to bed."
"I'll send a repast up for you, in case you get hungry," he said. Discomfort now gone, he was more than just the perfect gentleman. I would want nothing better than him taking care of me when I was ill.
"Perhaps later, Colonel. Thank you for your concern."
"I'll leave you," he said. "Rest well."
He gave her a departing smile and left. Warm fuzzies warred with vicious cramps in her body. She threw herself onto the bed.
"Ugh. I want to die."
He likes you, I wrote on the ceiling. She glared at the words.
"Whatever. Go away. I want to die."
Pull the curtains. The sun will come in your room in an hour or so and wake you up.
She hauled herself out of bed. If she was grateful for my reminder, she didn't comment on it. She hurled herself back into bed and tried to fall asleep. It was difficult with no pills to calm her body, so she laid there a while and finally drifted into an uneasy sleep.
Food was brought for her later in the day. A book was on the tray as well, with a note from Tarleton hoping she would feel better soon. She smiled, ate a little, and read a little. But the book was boring. So we played tic-tac-toe on the wall. By that night, she was feeling much better, but wasn't ready to leave her room.
"How long have I been here?" Jyoti asked.
Two weeks, I answered.
"What are you doing without me?"
Same thing we had planned on doing. Museums, battlefields. Mostly I'm tracing Tarleton's movements. I've spent a lot of time on my butt watching you. It's like a good movie.
"Anything interesting about Tarleton?"
That you haven't already found?
She chuckled.
I contemplated telling her about the bar, and the story in which she is captured and raped by Tarleton. But it didn't sit well in my stomach. Something about it was off. Tarleton raping her? It didn't fit. The Tarleton she had discovered was kind and considerate. Gentle even. But we both knew it was only one side of him. If given a choice between her and his country, I wasn't sure which he'd choose. I could warn her, just in case. Or I could let things take the natural course and hope she doesn't get raped.
It was a gamble. A dangerous game to play.
I went with the latter and kept my mouth shut. My stomach flopped and I wanted to hurl.
Not really. But it's more interesting now that I want to learn about it. Hearing you spewing facts was actually boring.
"Oh thanks," she said sarcastically. She was quiet for a moment. "Any idea how to get me out of here?" she finally asked. Her hands fiddled with the folds of her skirt.
Do you want to leave?
Jyoti stared at my words, not really seeing them. "Not yet. This is a historian's dream."
You could severely alter history.
"I'm not going to change the outcome of the war," she promised. "Though it'd be fun. I'm observing, not participating. As much as I liked thinking about changing history, wrote about it in my fanfics, I know it wouldn't be right."
I didn't tell her that the men who tried rescuing her on the hill might have died, and without her in history they might have lived to ripe old ages. Or that the barn she set fire to might have been a historic landmark later.
Laying on her back, her hands on her stomach, she was still staring at the ceiling. Worried.
"Without the… Here without… I don't know how long I'll be able to-"
I know, I wrote quickly, to keep her from having to say it out loud. I have no ideas how to rescue you yet. But I'm working on it, I promise. There isn't a Wikipedia page on this sort of thing you know. I can't Google Time Travel and come up with the answer.
Her laugh was dry. "I'll stick it out until you can figure it out. Really, I am having fun."
I know you are. Just be careful, ok?
"Ok. And thanks." Jyoti yawned and turned on her side, curling into the fetal position again. "I like knowing you're there. My own personal angel."
I didn't respond because she was no longer looking. With me watching over her, she fell asleep at last.
Did ya'll enjoy that?
I've been playing with new titles, because I don't like the one I have, and would love your feedback on it (titles are the bane of my existence). Please go to my profile and vote (hopefully it works, I've never used the polls before).