Fight With Claire
A smiling and content Margaret wafted into her Little Parlor and collapsed into an armchair with a satisfied sigh. Maisy smiled despite herself.
"At least one of us is happy to have the men back," she ground out with a scowl.
"What the Devil has happened, Maisy?" Margaret asked. "I've been dying to ask you!"
"Men are bastards and women are fools," Maisy curled her lip. "That's whats happened."
"That tells me nothing at all!" Margaret scoffed. "Lord - they've only been back a day, how could you possibly have had a fall out with Bordon already?"
"Because - as I told you, men are bastards," Maisy said again. "You haven't told Tavington about me and Bordon, have you?"
"No, Maisy. What you confide to me - what you tell me in confidence, will always stay between you and I."
Maisy nodded, she had known that already but needed to hear Margaret say it. "Good, because its all over anyway." She stated, then proceeded to tell Margaret everything that had happened the day before, from Bordon asking if they could be alone someplace, to Binnings thwarting her plans and walking her to her parents, all of it - even Maisy obeying Bordon's command and waiting for him in his chamber, until she became so irate that she left his chamber before his return.
"Do you know what time they came home, Margie?" Maisy asked.
"I suspect you're going to tell me," Margaret murmured, both aghast and stunned at Maisy's story.
"Four o'clock in the morning!" Maisy spat. "And he had the audacity to knock on my door!"
"He didn't!" Margaret gasped and Maisy nodded curtly.
"He did! The damned bastard."
"Did you let him in?" Margaret asked.
The two had been quite open with one another since that day that the Dragoons left Charleston and Margaret had told Maisy that they 'needed to talk'. Maisy had been dismayed to learn that Margaret had not given herself to Tavington, she was still a virgin and would be on her wedding day. She'd felt certain Margaret would turn her out but the older woman had been sympathetic, understanding that part of the reason Maisy had bedded Bordon was because she had believed Margaret had given herself to Tavington. Margaret would not turn her back on Maisy now - besides, it felt good to have a confidant, one person in all of the world who she could be wholly and completely honest with. One person who she did not have to be careful of, for Maisy knew it all. And Margaret knew it all about Maisy, also.
"No!" Maisy scoffed. "And that's why I had my breakfast bought to my room as well - I didn't want to sit at the table with him. I'm so very pleased that Bordon will be busy at the Assembly Hall - I don't think I'll have to see him at all today."
"Until dinner at least," Margaret sighed. "I'm not as happy about it as you appear to be. I miss William already. But I'll tell you all about that later. What are you to do, you are in love with Bordon - don't think you can fool me otherwise."
"I am, I'll admit it. But there's no future with him - I've known it all along. And if we are discovered - I'm the one who will pay the price," she lowered her voice then, to a soft contrite whisper. "And my family will pay it also."
"Yes," Margaret agreed. "Just as I will pay if William and I are discovered. James would never marry me if he knew I was spending my nights with another man, even if I am still a virgin. It's worse for you, I'm afraid. What if you fall pregnant?"
Maisy had no answer, not that Margaret was expecting one.
"What of Binnings?" Margaret asked then. "How do you feel about him?"
"I don't know!" Maisy wailed. "I like him well enough but I'm in love with Philip!"
Margaret nodded, understanding completely. She felt exactly the same, after all. She cared deeply for James. But it was William she was in love with.
"And yet, I'll marry James," Margaret said aloud. "And you should marry Binnings."
Maisy moaned with frustration and slumped back against the back of her seat, then rubbed her fingers over her forehead as though she felt a headache coming on.
"My parents certainly approve of him," she said finally. "Agh! I don't want to think about it. I'll cross that bridge if he asks me."
"You mean 'when', Maisy. Have no doubt - he is going to propose to you," Margaret replied in a no nonsense voice. "Just as James will propose to me. Lord, how did you and I wind up in the exact same predicament?"
"Not exactly the same," Maisy said vehemently. "Your man is far more wealthy!"
Margaret laughed brightly and Maisy smiled. Their amusement cleared the dark cloud and Margaret was released to confide to Maisy all about the evening before with William, of the wonderful new pleasures, without guilt over Maisy's unhappiness.
::::::::::::::::
Later that day, Margaret and Maisy sat in Claire Mason's parlor. The two women had gone for a walk and decided to drop in to check on their married friend.
Maisy waved her fan over her face slowly, trying to stir the air. The parlor windows had been thrown wide open but there was no breeze to relieve the ladies from the stifling heat. Sweat beaded their brows and they continually dabbed at their faces with handkerchiefs. Though she dearly wanted to slump back in her chair the way little Amelia was doing just then, Maisy held herself as correctly erect as Margaret and Claire did.
"And I worry for him so," Claire was saying. "Its hard to be excited about a ball just now. I don't believe I will even attend. Who are the Middleton's trying to fool in any case? Hosting a ball in honor of the English when they have always huffed and puffed that whig rubbish!"
Margaret shared a long suffering glance with Maisy over the rim of her glass as she took a sip of her cool cordial. The entire visit so far had been this way, with Claire as surly as a fishmongers wife. Even Maisy - who was still quite down over what had occurred with herself and Bordon, still felt it within herself to be excited about the ball! Then again, she'd never attended one before whereas Claire and Margaret had been to so many, they were almost common place events for the two Ladies.
Margaret tried to be patient with her friend, tried to soothe the woman's temper. Claire had recently discovered she was pregnant again, after so long trying. While she had been elated at first, her emotions swayed dangerously and quickly from giddy to somber and she found it an almost impossible task to keep her temper. Added to that, she was missing her husband terribly. Lieutenant Adam Mason - who was part of Captain James Wilkins' unit had been required to remain with James back at Camden. Their task was to continue recruiting to the Loyalist militia, and also to bring Mrs. Wilkins and her daughter Sally safely home to Charleston from Wilkins large plantation. James had written to Margaret - his letter had arrived not even an hour ago - explaining that he was uncertain when he would return. In some ways, she could not help but feel relieved, for Wilkins had suddenly become quite a complication to Margaret. And with the ball looming - to be held in only a few days time - she preferred that he not be able to attend.
Tavington had told Margaret of his meeting Wilkins, and so far had only given her cautious praise of his newest Colonial Captain, delivered in a cool tone of voice. Despite that, Margaret felt quite uncertain about having both William and James in the same room at the same time. She was certain that if James could see her face when William was near, he would know after one glance that she had fallen very much in love with the English Officer. With a shudder, she tried to push the thought aside. As Claire continued to gripe about the Middleton's and then about Adam's absence, Margaret's mind began to wander, to slip into pleasant memories of her reunion with William.
With a small smile, she remembered kneeling on the floor before Tavington, who whispered instructions and encouragement as he stroked her hair with his fingers. Her face had flushed crimson when she took him into her mouth that first time but she continued, pushing past her embarrassment, for she had carnal knowledge herself of just how wonderful it felt. Sure enough, Tavington's voice had grown thick, his member had jerked and his breath had caught. He'd rocked his hips back and forth, setting the pace, becoming more frantic with need all the while. How his legs had tensed! His hard, muscled thighs had been taut beneath her soft fingers and he'd panted, his stomach seeming to constrict continually. At one point she imagined he was on the verge of screaming.
She'd licked him and suckled him until her jaw ached but she never stopped, it was far too enjoyable, his reaction, his loss of control not just physically but verbally also. The panted whispers, of her beauty, of how he had missed her, of how he'd imagined her doing this to him, so many times before. And then he'd held his breath, but it came out in a 'whoosh' and he began gasping for air, his voice had been harsh as he encouraged her to go faster now, and harder. And then his feet had planted to the floor and he'd gasped while bucking his hips frantically and then his seed was in her mouth, spurts of it as he begged her to keep going, to keep sucking him through his climax.
Afterward, before he'd even calmed, he'd grabbed her by the arms and hauled her from her knees to sit on his lap, where he kissed her, his hands traveling all over her, from her hair and neck to her stomach and legs. He'd still been whispering then, even as he kissed her and began to calm. She had felt the pounding of his heart, felt how he'd struggled to catch his breath. And his eyes - how dark and hooded, she loved it when he gazed at her that way.
"Your turn," he'd said finally and slowly laid her down the bed, to kneel between her thighs and return the pleasure. Yes, having Tavington back was simply wonderful. The day would come when James Wilkins was indeed in the same room with her and Tavington and she could only think on it with dread. But he was far away now and she was determined to not let the fear interfere with her enjoyment of Tavington. Thrice now her lover had knelt between her legs, kissing and tasting her with his tongue so deliciously as she moaned and writhed, gripping his hair and arching her back -
"Margie! What in the world is the matter with you? You're not listening to a word I'm saying!" Claire's clipped tone snapped Margaret out of her reverie. As she tried to focus her glazed eyes, she tried to remember if Claire had been so churlish while carrying Amelia. She was barely fit company at all at the moment!
"I am listening, Claire," Margaret took a long drink of her cordial to stall for time as she furiously tried to remember what Claire had been saying. "Yes, it must be worrying, having Mr. Mason so far away just now. I know you miss him terribly."
"Yes, I do, but you have just given yourself away, Margaret," Claire retorted sharply. "I had just asked you if you were missing Mr. Wilkins but judging by your glazed eyes, your flushed cheeks and that ridiculous smile, all you can think about is that Colonel Tavington! Or General Tavington if you prefer!" She paused for a moment and pinned Margaret with an accusing stare. "Wilkins is in love with you! But you can not even spare a thought for him, or a moment of your time to discuss him! And never mind that he is out there - with my husband - and the both of them could die at any moment if they are faced with rebels! But do you care?"
Maisy glanced between the two warily and noticed poor Amelia doing the same. The girl had been slumped in her chair but now she was sitting erect, casting uncertain glances between her mother and her mother's friend. As for Margaret, all she could do was stare at Claire with astonishment. Finally, she found her voice.
"Of course I miss James, Claire! I am worried for James -"
Claire's bitter, sharp scoff cut Margaret's words off.
"Yes, I can tell you are," she said said snidely. "That coy smile and your contented sighs - all of them for Tavington I have no doubt - indicate to me exactly how very much Wilkins is in your thoughts just now!"
"Claire..!" Margaret breathed, deeply wounded by Claire's words. "You are being horrid just now! I do care for James, very much! How can you say otherwise? If I do not appear as worried as you, it is because I received a letter from him just this morning! I know he is well - as is Lieutenant Mason and the rest of the unit he is commanding."
"Ah, wonderful. Captain Wilkins is hale and healthy - he is still alive. Therefore, you shall slip into daydreaming all about your dear General without the faintest trace of guilt!" Claire taunted. Margaret's jaw dropped. Her eyes were large and filled with hurt but Claire took no pity on her as she continued implacably. "So. He was well yesterday, that much you know. But what of this morning, hmm? What if he's faced a skirmish and his body is growing cold and stiff in some forgotten woods at this very moment, hmm?What will you do when word comes that Wilkins is dead, hmm?"
"Claire, please -!" Margaret burst out, her tone agonised but again she was ignored.
"Will you don the black of mourning Margaret? Then again, you don't have to, do you? He's not your fiancé after all. No need to go to such lengths for him. You could continue on with your life, with barely an interruption. In fact," Claire's face was red now, her eyes flashing and she leaned forward, her lips curled with disdain and contempt. "In fact, if Wilkins died - I dare say your life would be far less complicated, wouldn't it?"
"Mrs. Mason, that's enough!" Maisy cried and even went so far as to lurch to her feet, outraged for Margaret's sake. Margaret herself could barely utter a word as she stared at Claire with horror.
"You would be free, wouldn't you, Margie?" Claire ignored Maisy completely. "Free to dally as you wish with General Tavington. No more guilt over Wilkins, no more fear that he will discover you. For he would be dead and you would be free of all obligation - ."
"Margaret, get up, we're leaving," Maisy cut off Claire's next words. She grabbed Margaret's arm and pulled, trying to bring the taller woman to her feet. Margaret rose slowly, her huge eyes haunted as she stared down at Claire. Who stared right back, her eyes flashing fury and challenge both.
"Yes, perhaps I should leave," Margaret whispered and placed her glass of cordial on a nearby table.
"Oh yes, leave," Claire barked bitterly. "That is just wonderful. Tell me Margie, is your General home today? Is he waiting for you? I suppose Amelia and I should be flattered that you spared us your precious time. Or perhaps you only did so while he was away, while it could not interrupt your time with him. Hurry back now! If he is home, you can find a quiet corner to kiss and flirt, while my husband and your future husband, are shot at by rebels."
Margaret felt weak in the knees but she managed to hold herself tall and straight, with Maisy's strong arm supporting her, and the two made their silent way toward the parlor door.
"When are you going to decide, Margaret?" Claire's voice called out once more before they could step into the foyer. "It is so cruel of you! Utterly heartless! To encourage James so, to leave him hanging like this, while you dally with Tavington all the while!"
"Come," Maisy steered Margaret into the foyer. She shot a baleful glance at Claire before reaching out and slamming the parlor door closed. "Lets go."
"Oh, my God, is she right?" Margaret wailed softly as they stepped through the front door onto the porch. Maisy sighed heavily and wound her arm through Margaret's.
"No. You do care for Mr. Wilkins. She is being hateful just now. Pregnant, worried for her husband - with no one to lash out at but you."
"I would hate for anything to happen to James," Margaret choked out and Maisy had to steer her through the gate as the taller woman's vision was now blurred with tears. Her words poured out of her in spurts, the wails barely understandable. "I do care for him and I do feel ever so guilty and wretched but Claire doesn't understand! I love him so much!" Maisy understood that Margaret was speaking of Tavington now. "He is all consuming! I want to be with him so very much but I don't want James to die!"
"Of course you don't," Maisy had her arm hooked through Margaret's arm. "No more than I'd wish Binnings to die. I do understand, Margie. You feel guilty, confused, despairing because you want to be with one man but he is out of your reach, just as Bordon is out of mine and all the while we both have decent men courting us. Men we don't want. And it's worse for you because you have years of history between you and Wilkins, whereas I only have little more than a month with Binnings! But you are not a bad person - you are not wishing for Mr. Wilkins death! Claire - sweet Lord above I wanted to slap her! She owes you such a big apology just now! Hateful woman!"
"I've never fought with Claire before!" Margaret wailed and began to cry even harder. Luckily the street was almost empty and they were quickly at Margaret's house in any case. Maisy was able to steer Margaret in through the small iron gate and lead her along the drive to the manor.
"What am I to do, Maisy?" Margaret asked softly when Maisy had her sitting in the Little Parlor. "I love Claire dearly - have I lost her friendship?"
"She should be worried that she has just lost yours, Margie!" Maisy snapped, still fuming over how dreadfully Claire had treated Margaret. "But no, as it happens. Friendships such as yours will survive, once her temper cools and she realises how horrible she was - I'm certain she'll grovel for forgiveness. I'm so angry with her just now, I feel like going back and giving her a piece of my mind!"
Indeed, Maisy stood at the large bank of windows overlooking the street with her arms folded firmly beneath her breasts. She certainly looked tense and on the verge of storming back to Claire's for a decent shouting match! But Margaret needed a friend just then and Maisy's position in Society was far too low to challenge such as Claire… And so she heaved a sullen sigh and strode away from the windows to take hold of Margaret's hand and sit beside her, speaking calm reassurances all the while.
::::::::::
"Will you tell me what happened, Miss Harper?" General Tavington took hold of Maisy's arm as she tried to slip by him.
Night had fallen and the Dragoons had returned, Margaret was in bed with a headache, nursing her despair. Bordon, Binnings and Evans were lounging in the upstairs parlor - Tavington had been sitting with them but when he saw her pass by the open doors, he'd jumped up and darted into the hallway to question her. Maisy could feel Bordon's and Binning's eyes on her and all she wanted just then was to escape to her own room to be out of their sight. Instead, she sighed heavily and turned to face Tavington.
"She quarrelled with Mrs. Mason today," she explained, fixing her eyes on the General's without looking past him at the Dragoons sitting in the parlor. "Mrs. Mason said some vicious things. Things she didn't mean, I'm certain. She knew they would hurt Margie, however and she was ruthless and mean and horrid."
"Why would she do that? They are close friends!" Tavington frowned, his expression filled with concern.
"Because of you, Sir," she whispered. "If you don't mind me completely honest. Everyone knows of Wilkins courtship but only a very few know of your… ah… friendship with Margie," Maisy said evasively and Tavington had the grace to look embarrassed, he even shuffled from one foot to the other with clear discomfort. "And Claire knows even less than I do, Sir," Maisy said, making it clear that Claire did not know he was sharing Margaret's bed.
"Ah," Tavington tilted his chin haughtily as he gazed down at Maisy. He was aware that Maisy had known about his affair with Margaret, but he didn't think she knew he was sleeping in Margaret's chamber. "Exactly how much do you know of it?"
"All, Sir," Maisy said forthright.
"I can trust to your discretion, I hope." It was not a question. Maisy was not offended, she could tell by his tone that he was merely confirming a fact that he already knew to be true.
"Yes, you both can," she said firmly, then continued a little sadly and with a hint of self disgust, "besides, I am not in a position to pass judgement or spread gossip." She shook herself then, fearing she'd said too much. Indeed, Tavington's gaze became speculative as he studied her. "Mrs. Mason accused Margaret of not caring if Captain Wilkins died. She was horrible and said that Margaret would probably prefer it if Wilkins did die, so that she wouldn't feel guilty over spending her time with you."
Tavington was so stunned his jaw dropped open to hang like a swinging door. He snapped it shut with a loud click, his eyes growing cold and his face turning to stone.
"Did she now?" He breathed and Maisy shivered at the threat in his voice.
"That's how I felt, Sir," she said, pleased that Margaret's lover cared enough for her that he would feel the same deep anger as Maisy herself had. "I wanted to slap her one! Margie was crying and it took so long to calm her down. I wish I could have sent for you but I know you're too busy and Margie was fine in the end but still..!" Maisy tossed her head and tightened her lips, feeling furious all over again.
"Hmm…" Tavington released his hold on Maisy's arm and offered her a small bow. "You were right to not send for me, I could not have come away from my duties for what others would have considered a frivolous reason, but its vexing all the same. What was she about, treating Margie that way?"
"She's pregnant, Sir, and missing her husband," Maisy explained. "I believe she was taking her frustrations and fears for Mr. Mason out on Margaret."
"Lieutenant Mason," Tavington corrected absently. "Thank you Maisy, I will go back to Margie now. She would not tell me what was bothering her and now I know why."
He called me Maisy, she thought with wonder. Tavington barely seemed to notice, he'd said her name with such familiarity it felt almost natural. Playful by nature, she wondered how he'd react if she replied in kind and called him 'William', just to see the expression on his face. She had to stifle a giggle at how she imagined he'd look.
"She probably feared you'd march to Mrs. Mason's house and give her a piece of your mind," Maisy scoffed. "Like I wanted to do."
"Hmm, no doubt you'd be far more gentle than I, even in a fury. And as you said, she is pregnant, after all. You didn't join us for breakfast this morning, will you be joining us for dinner this evening? If I can coax Margaret out of her room, she'll want your company."
"She has you, doesn't she?" Maisy smiled impishly and William quirked an eyebrow in surprise. "No, Sir. I think I'll dine in my chamber again or in the Little Parlor this evening," she said and, ignoring his suddenly curious expression, she bobbed a small curtsy. "Will you excuse me?"
"Of course," Tavington bowed his head politely and Maisy turned and glided down the hall, relieved to finally be away from Bordon's gaze.
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Maisy didn't come out of her room that night, nor did Margaret venture out of hers. both women dined in their chambers. Tavington retired as early as he could manage without drawing suspicion, then slipped from his chamber to Margaret's even though his Dragoons were still up and about.
Bordon saw him stride by the parlor but as he knew the General's destination, he made no attempt to hail him. The corridor beyond was empty, he saw, and he wondered if he could risk knocking on Maisy's door. Margaret's would not be locked, he knew - and if it was, no doubt Tavington would have a key. He - the General - would not have to risk discovery by standing in the corridor for precious moments while he waited for Margaret to answer her door. Bordon, however, would have no option but to stand and wait outside Maisy's chamber and if someone happened along during those moments, how would he explain his presence in the hallway outside her door? And what if she refused to open it, or stood in her doorway arguing with him?
The only way he could risk it was if he was only in the hallway for a few seconds before slipping into her room. And the only way to achieve that, was if he had her chamber key. Sarah, Margaret's new Ladies Maid, was the holder of the keys now but he had no acceptable reason to be asking her to open Maisy's door. He did, however, happen to know where the spare keys were kept. In a cabinet in Margaret's Little Parlor.
And Miss Putman is in her chamber, no doubt wrapped around William right at this moment, Bordon thought as he folded the broadsheet he'd been reading.
"Can I have that?" Evans asked as Bordon placed the newspaper aside.
"Be my guest," Philip said as he rose and handed it to Stephen. "Though its full of rot, if you ask me. I don't know why they bother printing the damned things at all."
"You seemed fairly engrossed in it," Stephen scoffed as he sat back and began reading. "Are you coming out with us tonight, Philip?"
"I'm not sure yet, I might go to bed instead."
With Maisy if I can get her damned key, he thought, keeping his gaze carefully averted from Binnings.
"You're getting soft, Philip," Stephen scoffed. "Old and soft."
Philip shrugged.
"Sir, aren't you concerned that your Miss Thompson will discover your nightly ventures?" Binnings frowned at Evans. "You speak of wanting to marry her - shouldn't you be more careful?"
"Like you are with Miss Harper?" Evans laughed and Bordon tensed. "I suppose you need to be careful, considering the two of you live under the same roof. But I do not believe Miss Thompson will learn of my activities. Besides, I'm only drinking and playing cards."
"And screwing every doxy that moves," Cornet Harford jeered. "But we keep that part to ourselves, aye boys?"
"Yes, we do," Ensign Robertson confirmed. "Dragoons keep one another's secrets, Binnings."
"I know we do!" Binnings said, clearly affronted. "You don't need to rebuke me - I didn't mean I'd say anything. I was just worried for Evans, thats all. That he'd get caught and anger his Miss Thompson!"
"Kind of you," Evans said sincerely. "You are a good fellow, Binnings."
Bordon had been holding a frosty silence during the exchange and now he turned on his heel to stride from the room. The fact was, Binnings was a decent fellow but it would not stop Bordon from spending time with Maisy, no matter if the Private had an eye on her for marriage or not!
"You know what you should do?" Cornet Harford was suggesting to Binnings as Bordon reached the door. "You should sneak into your Miss Harper's chamber, thats what. I couldn't resist it myself if the woman I was courting was living in the same house as me!"
Bordon froze again, his body tense and waiting, his fingers on the door knob so tight the knuckles were white.
"No! I would never!" Binnings said, offended by the very idea. "I respect Miss Harper and her family! I would do nothing to compromise her virtue!"
Bordon had heard enough, he pulled the parlor door open and stepped through. He managed to control his frustration enough to not slam the door behind him. With his lips pursed, he trotted down the stairs and glanced in each direction before sliding into Margaret's Little Parlor. It was dark in the chamber, but he felt his way around until he reached the cabinet and released the latch.
"I respect Miss Harper and her family! I would do nothing to compromise her virtue!"
Binnings' words shouted through Bordon's mind, causing him no end of guilt. For not only had he shown her disrespect by pursuing her, but he had taken her virtue without a care. Finding her key amongst the others was easy - he had looked for it the previous day when he was waiting for Maisy in the very room he stood in now. Without hesitation, he plucked it from the hook and strode from the room. He made it without being caught or seen.
Trying to behave casually, he trotted up the stairs back to the second landing. With a quick glance to his left, he saw Binnings and Evans still sitting in the parlor through the small glass windows set in the doors. Both were occupied, Binnings speaking to someone beyond Bordon's view, and Evans still reading the broadsheets. That placed three Dragoons or more still in the parlor. Tavington was with Margaret and the maids were busy doing their chores. The corridor was deserted and so he turned to his left and continued on as if heading toward his room. With a quick glance back down the still empty hall, he strode briskly to Maisy's room.
Gripping the key in his hand, he paused as a thought occurred to him. He remembered their first night together, when he had left Maisy in his room to fetch clean sheets, so the maids would not be alerted to his coupling. He had burned those sheets - with the stain of his seed and Maisy's virgin blood. It was doubly important that their suspicions not be raised now, for he would be in Maisy's room and it would be a disaster for the girl to have his seed all over her sheets. And so he continued on down the hall and turned to the left, stopping at a linen cupboard just before the service stair well. There, he pulled open the cupboard and after a brief search, found what he was looking for - clean sheets. They were folded in crisp, clean lines but they were still too big to shove under his Redcoat.
"I'll tell them I spilled my tea in bed," he said aloud as he strode back the way he had come, believing that lie would be suitable for anyone who saw him with the sheets. The corridor was still empty, and he made it back to Maisy's room without incident. Once he was at her door, he worked the key in the lock quickly and slipped inside, closed the door behind him and locked it again for good measure.
"What the Devil do you think you're doing?" Maisy shrieked from her perch against the pillows, while Bordon still had his back to her.
"Shh, keep your voice down," he admonished as he turned to face her.
"GET OUT!" She cried, pointing imperiously at the door.
"Still angry, I see," he murmured as she rose from the bed to confront him. "This is a nice room - far nice than mine."
"Its exactly the same as yours. And I want you out of it!"
As she strode toward him, he suddenly had the impression of a large chicken with its feathers ruffled and wings flapping, pecking and challenging an intruder to her pen. Believing she would not appreciate such a comparison, he kept the thought to himself but he could not help the smirk as it touched his lips.
"Oh, amused are we?" She spat. Her blue eyes flashed in the candlelight and she glared up at him with fury. "I should slap you, that's what I should do. You dare to come into me after last night? Why don't you just go back to the tavern and find another strumpet for your pleasure?"
Bordon stared down at her, shocked by the force of her rage and he belatedly realised that their reconciliation might not come as easily as he'd initially thought it would.
"Maisy, I didn't bed any one last night," he lied compellingly.
"Yes, I am a new hatchling aren't I?" She jeered. "A little lamb born yesterday. I might have been a virgin the first time we bedded but I, Sir, am no fool."
"Do you think I'd lie to you?" he asked after a moments deliberation.
"Without hesitation," Maisy confirmed. "And with the same straight face you are using right now. You fucked some woman last night, and now you think we'll continue on where we left off. You had your rod up some doxies quim while I was waiting for you in your bedchamber!"
"Language…" he breathed, shocked that she could be so coarse. Maisy snorted and laughed derisively.
"What do you expect? I'm a low born, ill bred Colonial hick after all," Maisy scowled up at him fiercely. "Too lowly for the likes of you, in fact. Hick I might be, but I'll not allow you to treat me as you did last night. So how about you just unlock that door and head on your way, hmm? Go and find some doxy or other. Fuck her as again as you did last night. I will have no more of you, you Goddamned bastard!"
Never, in all his years, had he experienced such raw fury and acute derision from a woman before. Maisy ceased resembling a chicken with ruffled feathers and began to look more like an eagle soaring after its prey. Bordon, quite frankly, had no idea how to proceed.
"Why are you waiting?" Maisy demanded. She folded her arms beneath her chest and leaned forward, her eyes suddenly intent on the parcel under his arm. "Christ - are they sheets?" She squeaked indignantly. "You - you... The gall of you! So certain of yourself! Did you think I'd just fall into your arms, Philip? Did you think we'd just continue where we left off, as though nothing had happened?"
"Maisy, I don't know why you're so angry!" Philip despaired. "You left me to wait for you in Miss Putman's parlor -"
"I explained what happened, you knew damned well how wretched I felt about it! And still you felt the need to get revenge on me, well you succeeded in that, good and proper!" Maisy accused and Philip shook his head in denial.
"No, no - it wasn't like that! It wasn't revenge, I had a few too many, thats all."
"A few too many? Are you speaking of drinks, or women, Philip?" She arched an eyebrow up at him.
"Drinks! I had a few too many drinks. I lost track of time, we were playing round after round and the men were celebrating the victory and hell - they were celebrating being alive! We survived a battle, Maisy! You can't imagine what it's like to be in the thick of it with those fellows at your side, every one fearful that we might not live, or that we'll lose friends in the very next moment! To be able to drink and laugh with those same men afterward, off the field without bullets flying past and screaming rebels trying to skewer us at every turn - I don't have the words to describe it. It was… Enjoyable," Philip frowned, 'enjoyable' did not encompass the emotions the men had felt. He struggled for a moment and for a wonder, Maisy waited, saying nothing to interrupt. She raised her chin haughtily and pursed her lips, but she was listening at least.
"It was profound, Maisy. Each one of understood each other perfectly, in ways that no one else could. None of us wanted the evening to end, for we didn't want to leave one another's company. I got caught up in the moment, in the feeling of being alive with men who all feared we'd die. I don't want to admit I forgot about you because I know it'll make you even angrier, but the truth is, I did... I forgot you were waiting in my bed. I'm sorry - but there it is."
Maisy took a step away and turned her back on him. Bordon followed her that step to stand behind her, his tone beseeching.
"Darling, when I remembered you were waiting I came back right away. But you were gone by then -"
"Liar!" She whirled to face him, her face red with fury now. She raised her hand and he jerked his head back, believing she was about to slap him. Instead, she waggled her finger at him and hissed, "I heard you all - singing in the corridor again. You didn't rush back when you remembered me, you returned with the other Dragoons because the night had come to an end. I was the furthest thing on your mind!"
"No - that's not true. I told the others I was leaving and they all came back with me. Yes, we were singing - I was soused, why wouldn't I have been singing? I had had an enjoyable evening with the lads and was returning to you! The thought of being with you - that alone was enough to make me sing."
Maisy paused, her breath caught in her throat. She swallowed and her heart began to pound. Cursing herself, she pushed aside her feelings for him and curled her lip in disdain.
"Well, you cut off quickly enough when you saw I wasn't there, didn't you?" She said, her expression smug. Inside, however, her defences were crumbling, even if he didn't know it.
"Yes, I did," he admitted softly. "I was angry at first, and was going to give you a damned good telling off."
"Really now..." Maisy murmured and folded her arms beneath her chest, his words stiffening her spine right back up again.
"But then you didn't come down for breakfast this morning," Bordon continued. "I heard the maids speaking of it, that you would be eating in your chamber. At first I thought you were frightened to face me because I'd told you to be waiting in my bed. But looking at you now, I doubt you'd ever be frightened of me."
"Oh, you can be scary enough, don't worry. But no - I didn't stay away because I was scared. I was bloody furious! How dare you treat me so?"
"Ah, Maisy," Philip sighed with frustration. In a moment of weakness he tried to reach for her, tried to take a hold of her hand, intending to pull her into his arms. Only she scowled and slapped his hand away and he let his fall slowly to his side. "I told you, I didn't mean to. I was playing cards and drinking with the boys, and I lost track of time, that's all."
"Playing cards, drinking with the boys and," she held up her hand, ticking her fingers off as she counted. "Rogering doxies. That's why you forgot all about me. You were with another woman or do you still think I'm too stupid to believe otherwise?" She held his gaze and saw the resignation in his eyes. "Go ahead, Philip. Try and convince me otherwise."
"I can't," he threw his hands up and the sheets dropped to the floor. "You are right, you're no fool. But she was just a doxy, it was a quick in and out. Over in moments. Hardly worth quibbling over!"
"Hmm, except for the small, pesky issue of you promising me that you only keep one woman at a time," Maisy shot back. "Perhaps I'll go to Binnings now for a 'quick in and out' and we'll see if you still think its 'hardly worth quibbling over'."
Bordon tensed before her, his gaze becoming cold and hard.
"I think we'd have a very serious problem if you did any such thing," Philip said finally, his voice low and deadly.
"Hmm, just as I thought," she tilted her head to one side as she studied him. "You're a hypocrite."
"Because I don't want my lover spreading her legs for another man?" He retorted sharply.
"Do you think I want my lover spreading the legs of some doxy?" Maisy challenged. "While I'm waiting for him to come to me, no less!"
"No, I'm certain you don't," Bordon admitted, but his tone was still sharp and cold as he continued. "But you should not say such things Maisy. Know this, if you try to make me jealous with Binnings, you will succeed. But it will go badly for you."
Maisy drew a sharp breath and her heart began to pound furiously. She tried to hold his gaze, tried to keep the challenge and defiance in her eyes. But he was staring back at her with such steadiness, such sudden and cold fury that she had to pull her eyes away. She swallowed hard, took several steps back from him, and wrapped her arms around her body as though to protect herself.
"Agh, Christ, Maisy," he scowled and strode forward, closing the distance between them quickly and this time, when his strong arms encircled her, she did not resist. "I don't want to frighten you but it's true all the same. Don't use Binnings against me, or any other man." He placed two fingers beneath her chin and tilted her head back gently. He gazed down into her frightened eyes and softened his tone to reassure her. "Darling, we've had our first lovers tiff, that's all. It is not over between us and I am not leaving. I missed you, Maisy. I was gone for weeks and the one thing I had to look forward to was being with you again. But then it all went wrong and I can't tell you how frustrating it all is! Why don't we both concede that we pushed each other a little too far, so that we can move on from this? I just want to be with you again!"
"Like it was before?" She whispered up at him and he nodded. "I want that too but it's complicated now!"
"Why, because of Binnings?" Bordon guessed, his tone turning sharp again.
"My parents like him, Philip. He is courting me and everyone who knows of it agrees he wants to marry me," she said miserably. "Am I supposed to refuse him, then?" And then she whispered the words she never thought she would whisper, but she meant every single one. "If you want me to, I will. I'll refuse him for you, even though I know you aren't going to marry me. I'll wait until you've moved on from South Carolina, I'll wait until I know I'll never see you again, before I let any other man court me."
Stupid girl, stupid, stupid girl! So weak. So stupid! She chastised herself but she knew it was true and she couldn't bring herself to take the words back as she waited for his response.
Philip's expression became thoughtful and he gazed past her as he considered. It was an interesting offer, he could have her all to himself and she made it clear she understood he would eventually leave. He didn't want Binnings or any other man courting her in the mean time, but it was imperative that their affair be kept private. Not only for her own virtue, but for his reputation also. If Tavington considered Bordon to be nothing more than a rake, he would not allow him to marry Eleanor. This could be just the thing, he could have Maisy now, and Eleanor later, if their affair was kept only between the two of them. Perhaps, if she was seen to be courted by other men, no one would become suspicious of their affair.
He nodded slowly and focused his gaze on hers again.
"Yes, you may allow him to court you," he said firmly. "Let him give you flowers and write you love letters. But under no circumstances are you to allow him to touch you. In anyway Maisy - I mean it. Not even a kiss. Do you understand?"
"No, not really. I don't understand at all. I'm offering to give myself only to you, to refuse all others until you're gone! But you sound as though you want Binnings to court me," she was trying to puzzle it out as she frowned up at him, confused and suspicious at once. "Why do you want him to court me, when you know it will make you jealous? And we both know that Binnings will propose eventually. What will I say then? I don't understand at all."
And I can't explain it to you, without revealing my own intentions to propose to Eleanor, Bordon thought as he gazed down at her.
"Is it not enough," he began. "That I have requested it? Are you not worried for your virtue? This will make people less suspicious of us. And if he does propose while I am still sharing your bed, you will put him off. Women are good at that, aren't they? At stringing men along?"
"You want me to use him," she said and she lowered her eyes, feeling quite depressed. "I don't like using people, Philip. I'd much rather encourage no other man while I'm with you -"
"And how would that look?" Bordon asked, frustration setting in. "You are a young and beautiful Society lady and others will expect you to be courted. If you are not, they will become suspicious and will eventually begin wondering if you have a lover. Is that what you want? Do you want your virtue questioned?"
She shook her head slowly and bit her lip as tears filled her eyes. Wanting their discussion to be over, he picked her up bodily as he had on their first night together. Her melancholy fled and she squawked indignantly as he deposited her roughly in the centre of the bed.
"You worry too much," he informed her as he took hold of both her ankles and hauled her to the edge of the bed. Before she could move away, he knelt on the mattress between her legs and covered her with his weight. Leaning over her, his lips close to hers he whispered, "everything will be fine, dearest."
"I don't want to hurt him," with a grave expression, she reached up to stroke his face with the tips of her fingers.
"You won't," he said softly, leaning down to brush her lips with his. "Let him court you, and allow other men to do so also - that will let Binnings know you are not serious about him."
Maisy drew a deep breath and sighed with resignation.
"Very well," she whispered. Bordon smiled with triumph. Talk ceased as they began to kiss in earnest, the two finally reconciled with a new understanding between them.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
"Bertie wait!" Maggie screeched and her skirts tangled in her legs as she chased after her little cousin. Gilbert shrieked with the pleasure of being chased and bolted across the deck, his little legs carrying him between the larger legs of the tall sailors. Maggie could not race between those same sailors as quickly as Gilbert did and with many muttered apologies she did her best to push her way through. The sailors who saw her coming moved out of the way and those who didn't 'oomphed' as she shoved past them.
"Its not safe you little urchin!" She yelled. The deck rolled beneath her feet but she was used the gentle rocking now and adjusting her balance was automatic to her now. It was during a storm - when it heaved and dropped away as she tried to walk that she found it trying. Gilbert continued to run and she cursed softly beneath her breath - a sailors curse, she'd heard them swearing when they thought no young ladies were close by to hear them.
She came to a sudden stop, her way was barred by several barrels and she tried to figure out how the Devil Gilbert had managed his way through.
"You alright Miss Woodhouse?" A crewman asked her. Clark, she thought his name was. Lieutenant Clark.
"I'm just trying to catch up to my cousin," she said. "My urchin of a cousin, Sir," she pointed, then gasped with fright, Gilbert was at the side of the ship and was trying to climb the rail. "Gilbert!" she shrieked and the sailor shouted. His shout drowned her pitiful attempt, the roar of his voice was loud enough to carry over the waves and creaking of the ship, cutting through all other sound.
"Orwell - grab that lad!" He bellowed, the deep shout reverberated through Maggie's insides. As she watched with horror, Orwell turned and saw the boy trying to heave himself up and with a laugh, he grabbed Gilbert around the middle, then lifted him to sit him on the rail with stocky legs dangling over the side. Petty Officer Sam Orwell held him securely enough and a burst of sheer relief rushed past Maggie's lips.
"Thank you," she breathed and reached her hand out to pat the Lieutenant's shoulder but found herself gripping his arm for support instead, as she breathed deeply to catch her breath. "Oh, sweet Lord, he will be the death of me."
"Boys always are," Clark laughed. "But we become men eventually. Though my Mamma says it doesn't change - we just grow bigger."
"So I have an entire lifetime of this to look forward to?" Maggie asked as she released his arm. "I think I'll throw myself overboard now."
Clark chuckled again, then bent forward to move a barrel so she could slip past. "There you go lass, go get your brother."
"Thank you again," she said as she sidled through the gap he'd created for her. He began bellowing orders behind her and the crew rushed past at their various duties. Mopping the deck, clearing ropes from the way, hauling the barrels down below decks. The work continued around her, never ceasing, even at night. She reached Petty Officer Orwell, who was still holding Gilbert on the rail.
"He was alright Miss," Orwell said as she came to stand beside him. "I doubt he could climb up, he's too little yet and the rail is too high."
"You don't know my cousin," she snorted. "Damned little beast."
"Here now, thats no language for a lady," Orwell quipped, then winked slyly. "But I won't tell."
"Good. Because if you did, I'd have to tell how I saw you kissing the Commodore's daughter last night," she returned the sly wink then laughed at his astonished expression.
"Jesus!" Orwell glanced over his shoulder furtively, "you saw it?"
"Ah huh… but don't worry, Sophia already swore me to secrecy," Maggie smirked up at the sailor, who laughed with relief.
"I can see where he gets his mischief from," he jerked his head down toward Gilbert. "Runs in the family!"
" 'Aggie! Look!" Gilbert pointed imperiously and Maggie followed his gaze.
"Oh, whales! I'll never tire of the sight of them!" She sighed wistfully. The majestic - and enormous - black and white monsters were not all that far from the ship, coming to the surface and blowing jets of air and water through the holes on their backs, their great tails flinging into the air as they dived deeply into the water.
"Nor will I," Orwell admitted. "Orc's are big - but have you seen the humpbacks yet?"
"No," Maggie shook her head.
"I'll make sure I send word to fetch you, as soon as we sight them. And we usually do see them in this part of the Seven Seas. If these Orcs impress you - just wait until you see the humpbacks."
"Yes, please do!" Maggie smiled up at him with excitement. "I can't imagine it! Orcs are big enough - how can something be bigger?"
"You'll see," Orwell said. "I can't wait to see the look on your face!"
"You're a beast," she swatted at his arm.
The family had been aboard ship for a few weeks now and they had become quite familiar with the crewmen and the other passengers. Not that there were many of those - being a military vessel. Commodore Rossier's daughter was of an age with Margaret - both sixteen years old. And Orwell was only a few months older than them both. The three had become boon companions, rarely out of each other's company except when Orwell was on duty. Though Sophia was below decks now, dining with her father in his cabin.
"A beast who must return to work," Orwell hefted Gilbert back to his feet on the deck. "I'll find you later - you and Miss Rossier," he smirked and Margaret rolled her eyes.
"You're taking chances, you are," she shook her head. "The Commodore would throw you to the sharks if he caught you with his daughter."
"Ah, its just kissing, there's no harm in it. I could teach you, if you'd -"
"Thats quite enough of that!" Maggie gasped, cutting Orwell off. The Petty Officer laughed and strode away.
"He's not giving you any trouble, is he?" A woman's voice asked behind Maggie and she whirled, blushing crimson, fearing her cousin had heard Orwell's off her to teach her how to kiss.
"No! Of course not!" Maggie rasped out and Eleanor frowned.
"Strange," she said. "Lieutenant Clark just told me he ran off and was trying to climb over the rail."
"Oh," realisation dawned - Eleanor was speaking of Gilbert! Maggie didn't like to think what Eleanor would say - or what she'd do - if she had heard Orwell's offer. "Yes, Bertie! He most certainly did do that. But Petty Officer Orwell took him in hand and look!" Maggie pointed out to sea. "Orcs!"
Eleanor jerked her gaze from Bertie, who was at that moment playing with a coiled rope left on the deck, to gaze out at the orcs.
"Majestic, aren't they?" She sighed as she watched them.
"And Orwell says there's even bigger ones - called Humpbacks. I think he might be teasing me… But he said he'd come fetch me if he sights any."
"No, I've heard of them - I don't think Orwell was teasing you. You'll have to send for me too!"
"I will," Maggie returned her gaze to the view, keeping one eye on Gilbert at all times, following along with him when he rose to inspect other things on the deck.
"So many more miles to go," Eleanor sighed heavily. "We've not seen a spit of land in two weeks…"
"I know. But I like it on the ship - its still a grand adventure, don't you think?"
"I do, but our mother's don't seem to agree. And poor Lydia - she can still barely get out of bed most days. The Commodore says its the worst bout of sea sickness he's ever seen."
"Yes, poor Lydia. And not just because she's sick but because of all this!" Maggie waved her arms toward the orcs. "Look at what she's missing out on! And Mamma - she is being silly too - laying about on her bunk. I don't think she's sick at all, she just doesn't want to get up!"
"At least Mr. Dawson has made himself busy. I'm worried we'll lose him to the sea and I don't mean by drowning," Eleanor said. "He's taken to the ship like a… well… Like a fish to water."
"I don't blame him - we've got nothing for him to do now and he does like to keep busy," Maggie replied. "But I think when we land in the Colonies, he'll come with us rather than try and stay aboard ship to work."
"When we land in the Colonies…" Eleanor sighed with pleasure this time. "Oh, how I long for that day."
Maggie glanced at her inquisitively but Eleanor just smiled and waved the comment away. She stared past the frolicking orcs toward the horizon, longing for the day she'd see land in the view. She longed for her first sight of the Americas. And she longed even more to see Bordon again.
"Wait for me." He'd told her. "I will return to you. There is hope yet. Tell no one."
She sighed wistfully and hoped that his feelings for her had remained unchanged, for she was still certainly in love with him.