A/N: Please Review! I need them to make me feel loved! Enjoy the chapter, it was fun to write.
A/N 2: A final thought…if anyone has done/or would like to do, some fan art, it would be very much appreciated. It would be interesting how you guys have portrayed some of the characters in my fan fiction. Send them to me. Ron.
What could I do? I had no idea…the false smile that was pasted to my face drooped a little as I thought. John's words kept running through my mind, "They'll shoot him, and they'll make you watch. And then they'll shoot you!" How could I prepare myself for something like that?
Charles and I had descended onto the first floor and I could distinctively make out the voice of the Lord General and Tavington, on the subject of a horse blanket. Then the thought occurred to me…did Cornwallis really order all of this? Did he really believe that my father would turn up tonight? Did he really underestimate my father that much? My father would come for me…but he wouldn't be so stupid as to do it tonight. But however much I told myself that, there was a shadow of doubt cast over me.
The other prying question was; was Charles really married? Did John tell me the truth? No matter how much John had preached to me, my instinct told me not to trust him. And why was he really here? He had never said that he was a captive, a prisoner as I was…maybe John was a big a traitor as that pathetic excuse for a man; Wilkinson.
As Charles and I walked the remaining few steps, along the hallway and to the staircase, I muttered, trying desperately to sort through my thoughts, "When did your wife get here, Charles?" Again there was that shaking feeling in my voice, as though I wasn't sure of something. As Charles turned to face me, he must not have caught confusion in my voice, but suspicion.
"She arrived late Thursday night…" he began, an eyebrow raising slightly as though he was unsure of my question. Charles was not the only one confused tonight, or at least that was how it seemed. I however broke in:
"Only, I haven't seen her at all. And I thought I would have if she had been here since Thursday night."
Before Charles could reply there was the sound of a door suddenly slamming. It had come from not far away. I turned to look, releasing my arm from Charles' as I did. It was then that I heard it…cold iron spurs clanking on the wooden floorboards from barely 20 paces behind me. I knew who it was, before he even turned the corner and came into view, for the argument that was commencing had stopped as suddenly as it began.
I found myself, once again looking into the icy blue eyes of Colonel William Tavington. There was not annoyance in his eyes, or anger. In fact, if it were possible coming from a man who was nicknamed the "butcher"; he looked amused. He stopped as he saw us. And what a sight Charles and I must have made. I was nursing a most confused expression, while Charles' was looking heavily suspicious.
Tavington looked between us, his smirk never faltering; before he said in his smooth British voice:
"My dear Miss Martin" there was a little bow at this point, "please allow me to escort you the rest of the way."
Before I knew what was happening, before I had even registered what he had said, Tavington had strolled up to me, and was holding out his arm for me to take.
How could I react? I reacted the only way a refined young lady should react. I didn't kick his shins or attempt to slap him; I linked my arm with his, and allowed him to steer me towards the stairs. With a look back to Charles, I said, "Don't worry, I'm sure your wife will be feeling better before the party is over." This time it was my turn to smirk.
That doubles crossing bastard, if he thought he could pull the world over my eyes, he had another thing coming! I would make sure to make this evening as painful as I could for him! At least Tavington and Wilkinson had been honest about their feelings; they made it clear that they wished me dead from the first moment I met them. At this moment, I felt safer with the "Butcher" than I did with my once good friend Charles. At least Tavington wouldn't stab me in the back; he'd have the courtesy to tell me what he was going to do, before he even did it!
Again the fake smile was pasted on, as we rounded the last corner of the hallway, and found ourselves at the top of the staircase. Below us were quite easily 500 people all crammed into the entrance of the manor. And that was not all…the crowd seemed to be spilling outside, for that was where the music seemed to be coming from.
I took another deep breath and, without even realising what I was doing I had tightened my grip onto the "Butchers" arm. His hand patted the top of mine, and together we began the long path down into the thick of the party.
There were colours everywhere! Lady's in a multitude of different coloured dresses and the gentleman in different regimental uniforms. As soon as our feet had stepped of the bottom step, we were surrounded by people all trying desperately greet Tavington; and myself seems as I was with him.
After a mixture of "Good evening" and "How do you do?" from Tavington, he then brushed of all of his other adoring fans with other simple hand gestures and continued to push his way through the forever-thickening crowd. Pulling me through behind him as he went.
The warm air hit me. I was surprised. I wasn't expecting the air to be warm, due to my icy exterior. Tavington seemed to know exactly where he was going, as he pulled me through the crowds. It was then that I caught the first glimpse of the vibrant red hair of the woman that I had dreaded seeing ever since our first meeting.
Again, by the time I had registered exactly who it was, I was standing opposite the woman in question, with a blank look on my face. I glanced over to the man on her left and saw Borden looking at me. He looked uneasy. Tavington again looked smug. Before he began:
"Borden, I don't believe Miss Martin has been introduced to this young lady here…" with another gentle hand gesture, indicating who it was I was supposed to be being introduced to.
"Lucy…" he began, pulling at his collar, as though it had suddenly got too tight for him; "t-this is Miss L-Lucy O'Shea, m-my f-fiancée."
I couldn't believe it! I stood there; my mouth fell open, suddenly resembling that of a surprised fish. I looked over to Tavington, who was smirking again. I wanted to hit him! He had done this deliberately!
However, I couldn't help it. My mouth had just, once again run away with me: "Lucy?" I cast a disgusted look over to Borden, who visibly cringed under it: "How sick is that?"
Borden tried to step forward, possibly trying to console me, and said, "Lucy…please…"
"No! How could you? Did you mean anything you said to me? Or have you got some sick fetish, targeting people with the name Lucy?"
Borden continued: "Lucy, it wasn't like that…"
"No!" I began, then turning towards the fiancée, who had been surprisingly quiet up until now spoke: "Do you know what he said to me? Do you know he declared his undying affection for me. He never even mentioned you!" I turned to Borden once again and shouted, "I hope you're happy. I hope you're happy, you lying Bastard!"
And with that, my hand automatically raised, swung back and collided with Borden's face. Borden suddenly disappeared from my line of vision, as he ended up in a crumpled heap on the floor. Lucy (the other one) made a dive for Borden.
I turned on my heel and sprinted, as best as I could with Tavington still holding onto my arm. I pushed my way through the crowd, with the "Butcher" following in my hurried wake.