A/N: Again sorry I haven't updated for so long, this chapter just seemed to go on forever! But isn't it a good one! And extra long as well! Aren't you lucky! Anyway, make of it what you will, but most of all enjoy it! Feel free to review me (although I probably don't deserve it). Hope you enjoy it. Ron.
I didn't sleep that night. There was so much that had to be done. It was true that I had arrived at the camp with nothing, but over the short few months that I had been there, I had accumulated a few things.
So there I was, 3am in the morning, the sun no where to be seen, trying to shove the last of Jane's dresses into my trunk. A lone candle shone from it's place on the wooden desk, casting long shadows over the large room, that had been mine for the last few weeks.
"If I sat on you, would you close?" I asked the trunk in a tired voice almost expecting an answer. I wasn't surprised when none came.
"What would anyone say if they saw me talking to a trunk?" I must have looked verging on madness, for not only were I having a conversation with a trunk, but it was gone 3am, and there were a few stray hairs escaping my bun, framing my face in a perfect picture of insanity.
A weary sigh escaped me, and I abandoned my task.
"I have to be the only one crazy enough to be up at this time…" I looked quickly out of the window and "I guess I'm wrong." There were two guards outside, and I couldn't see the wooden cage that the colonials were in. But for all I knew, there could have been a hundred guards, guarding that cage.
"This time tomorrow, I'll be asleep in Washington and I won't have a trouble in the world." I stretched my tired and aching shoulders to the ceiling and continued, "I'll never have to see John or Wilkinson again. I'll never have to see Tavington again…" My train of thought stopped there. "I'll never see Tavington again…"
That man had twisted my emotions and feelings around enough to last me a lifetime! One minute he was lovely to me, inviting me to Balls, rescuing me from John, but then the next minute he was toying with me, beating me and causing me as much pain as he could!
The only question that was in my mind, as I went back to my packing was that, "Would I miss Tavington is I were to never see him again?" he must have been on a nice streak, for he was going through one of his lovely phases.
"He's playing with me…" I concluded. "I'm sure he has me exactly where he wants me, and I still don't know the real reason that he brought me here! Why didn't he just shoot me, like he shot Thomas?"
"That man has a lot of explaining to do! A lot of explaining indeed!"
With these thoughts circulating in my mind, I knew that I wouldn't be able to clear it until these matters were resolved. My conscious wouldn't allow it.
"Since I'm leaving tomorrow anyway, what harm can it do?" I pulled Charles spare jacket from the top of my trunk, and slipped it over my shoulders. "I'll just go and see him, and clear a few things up."
My mind was made up. I slipped a pair of shoes over my bare feet, tightened the jacket around myself, and started towards the door. As I turned the handle, a large sigh escaped me, and I whipped through the door, mealy a shadow in the fading candlelight.
The halls were dark and mysterious that night. The shadows were long and unnerving. My eyes adjusted to the darkness, and I was like a cat burglar. A wisp of material remained as I abruptly turned a corner leading me through the halls and towards the stairs. I left no trace of my being there, there was only the faint sound of my hurrying footsteps across the polished wooden floor.
I knew that Tavington didn't sleep at the house. No, he slept down in the fields with his men. I suppose he wanted to be in the thick of trouble, should there be any. I had even heard rumours that he slept with one eye open, with a loaded pistol under his pillow.
A smirk tugged at my lips. Yes, that's the sort of thing that he would do. There were too many people who wanted to kill him for him to be able to sleep soundly.
Suddenly I stopped. What if the rumours were true, and that when I get to his tent he shoots me!
"Snap out of it!" I barked at myself. "It won't be the first time that he's tried to shoot me!"
My feet started to move again with the same brisk and almost urgent pace as they did before. I knew that if I stopped again, I wouldn't be able to start.
Before I knew it I was on the stairs, looking down towards the closed heavy wooden doors.
I took a minute to catch my breath, I wasn't even aware that I was running until I stopped. There was a pounding in my head that I could only assume was adrenaline. I felt as though I could run a marathon and at 3am that wasn't bad!
The hallway was empty, or at least all that I could see was. There were no candles lit, but a mystic light was cast through the high windows by the moon outside.
I took my first step onto the stairs and an almighty creek emerged from it! That surly would have awakened the whole house it was that loud! But thankfully there were no sounds of anyone stirring from the floors above me. Another sigh of relief escaped me, and as quick as I could without falling, I cleared the staircase.
Once at the bottom, I looked frantically around, sure that someone was going to catch me. But there was no one. There wasn't even the sound of a fire crackling away in the library. With that in mind, I made my way towards the door.
With a mighty push, the door creaked slowly open, drenching the hallway with the moons silver light.
The air was cold, and it stung my lungs as it went down. I once again looked frantically around, but there was nobody there.
"Strange…" I whispered to myself. Where were all the guards?
There was little to no sound coming from the occupied cage to the front of me. It's occupants must be asleep.
I looked around once again, there was defiantly nobody there. No one to see me, and I had made a promise. All I had to do is to unlock the cage, and the colonials would be free! Free to go home, free to go back to my father, the "Ghost".
He wouldn't be afraid. He wouldn't be afraid to do what was right. My father would have walked up to the cage and opened it in front of Cornwallis himself, if he could.
"Then why are you afraid?" I said to myself.
My fathers voice echoed through my head with a saying that he had long ago taught us, "Never be afraid to do the right thing!" I am my fathers daughter, and I will not be afraid.
"I'm not afraid…" I said a little more loudly to myself and my feet began to move.
The occupants of the cage were indeed asleep. Their warm breath was creating mist in the cold air as they breathed out. I got to the door and looked at the lock.
"Damm!" I muttered, a key was needed to open the lock. I looked around, there was no obvious place you would keep a key. Then suddenly out of the mist:
"OY! What the hell are you doing!" I spun around. I felt like a child with their hand caught in the cookie jar. Some of the occupants in the cage stirred in their sleep, but none of them awoke. I looked around and I saw the frame of a slight man emerging from the side of the house. He must have been the guard in charge of the cages keep. This was one of the few occasions in my life that I had to think on my feet and come up with something brilliant. Thankfully my wit didn't let me down:
"I'm just out for a walk, I couldn't sleep." The guards face was in the dark shadow of the house, so I couldn't see his face. But I continued "You wouldn't have the time would you?" My breath was caught in my chest, and I felt really uncomfortable. I was just waiting for his answer.
"Yes, it's half an hour past 3." His voice was stern and deep for such a little man.
"Thank you. Thank you very much" With that I turned and continued walking, only I wasn't walking toward the house, I was going straight into camp. There was a man there who owed me a lot of answers.
The ground on the way down towards the camp was damp with mildew so the hem of my dress had suffered. It was as I began to make my way through the many tents, I realised that I had no idea as to where Tavington's tent actually was.
There were very few lights on within the camp, and little noise surprisingly for a camp of its size. In the darkness all the starched tents looked the same.
A lone owl hooted from somewhere in the distance. I looked around, trying to capture everything that I could in the lack of light. Every direction that I turned in, presented to me the same view!
"Come on Lucy…" I muttered to myself, "You know your way around this camp by now!".
There was only one thing that I could think of to do…pick a direction and walk down there until I saw something that seemed familiar.
"South, that's this way" I once again muttered as I found my bearings. This had turned into a much greater task than I thought it would be!
I did as I had decided. I walked. Walked looking in every possible direction that I could. I felt particularly vulnerable. Who knows what was hiding, no lurking in the shadows.
After a few minutes that seemed to go on for hours, I stumbled into a clearing in the tents, and HALAULA I recognised the long white tent in the middle of it all as the medical tent.
I let out a sigh of relief, "Well tank god I found this…"
I quietly lifted the starched flap, only enough to slip through and I entered it.
Looking around painfully as my eyes adjusted to the bright light of the burning candle in the corner, I saw that the first bed as your entered the tent was occupied by none other than John, himself.
He was sleeping so heavily, that I doubt a almighty battle would awaken him! He was no doubt sleeping off the alcohol, for it must have taken a lot of it to make a man the size of John as intoxicated as he was earlier that evening.
I walked tentatively around the sleeping bear and saw the occupant of the next bed. There was no physical injury that I could see, but he was huddled tightly under the blankets on a night such as this.
I crouched down next to him, and carefully placed my one hand on his shoulder.
"Private…" I said as I gently shook him as to awaken him, "Private" This time with a little more urgency in my voice.
Slowly the soldiers eyes fluttered open, surely he was dazed. His eyes were all out of focus. When he did hone in on me, he tried to sit up in bed. My hand on his shoulder gently pushed him back onto the bed and I asked him:
"Please could you tell me where Corneal Tavington's tent is?"
With no room for discussion the private replied in a just-woken-up voice "Follow the square round until your facing east and it's the 3rd, no 4th tent on your right."
"Thank you." Not waiting for him to reply, I straightened up and began walking out of the tent. As I reached the door, I looked back at the helpful solider and saw that he was already asleep.
It took me no time at all to find Tavington's tent (after a brief hesitation deciding which way was east that it). The air had turned even colder than before it that was at all possible, and my teeth had begun to chatter. A foul wind had picked up, only serving to vex me greater, for it really was a cold night.
I stood outside his tent, wanting to go in and see if the rumours were true, but also frightened of what would happen if they were. After an exceptionally cold sweep, I decided that inside the tent would be better than freezing to death outside, even with what was inside.
Slowly I lifted the flap, a little at a time as not to cause to much commotion. It didn't take long for my eyes to adjust to the light, the candle on the side desk had long burned out. I looked around, panic rising within me. It was as though I had entered the lions den and it was only a matter of time until it appeared.
My eyes focused on a figure lying on the cot, covered in a blanket, and a pair of boots discarded on the floor in front of it. It was him, it had to be.
The rumours obviously weren't true; he didn't sleep with one eye open otherwise he would have seen me by now. I took a step closer to the sleeping figure and said:
"Wake up Tavington!" There was no movement from under the covers. Again a step closer brought on a new cry, "Wake up!"
Before I knew it, I was pushed on the floor, my arms pinned, with a gun pointed at my throat. The figure of Tavington holding the gun above me.
"Don't shoot!" I pleaded. For knowing Tavington, that would have been the first thing he would have wanted to do. My chest was rising and falling quickly, a new flush of adrenaline pumping through me. I didn't know where to look. I could see a faint glimmer of the shinny metal, which if fired could kill me in an instant. But what was more pressing, was that a bear chested Tavington was pinning me to the floor, using the weight of his body to keep me from moving.
"I guess the rumours are true, after all". I began,
"What?" Demanded an obviously cranky Tavington. He couldn't have woken up fully, for his eyes were out of focus.
"Nothing…" I looked straight up into his eyes, pleadingly and said "Let me up…please."
Without a reply, Tavington shifted, lessening the weight pressing down on me, but what was most important, was that he took the gun with him. He found his feet, and surly held out a hand for me to take. Taking his had, I pulled myself up from the floor, and brushed the front of my dress.
"What the hell are you doing here?" with a quick look at his watch, "And at this time in the morning?"
"I can explain,"… I was slightly ruffled by what had just happened, "So long as you promise not to shoot me!"
"Well that depends on why you've woken me up". He said, turning from me, and fumbling with something on his desk. The next thing I knew, a match had been lit and the candle was burning brightly on the desk. My arm went up to cover my eyes, the light stung them.
Tavington sat down in the chair in front of the desk, and after a deep sigh looked directly at me. "So why are you here?"
"I want some answers" I said with a confidence.
"Like what?" he replied, still looking at me.
"Like…" I said trying to think of something, now being out on the spot, "Why didn't you kill me back at the plantation?" I thought you might as well start at the very beginning. He took his eyes away from mine and took a deep breath in.
"I didn't kill you because you were a challenge. Not many people would shoot at the famous "Butcher" and then try to fight your way out of arrest. You broke one of my men's jaws as I remember."
I didn't know if he was humouring me or not. "But wasn't Thomas a challenge also, he ran at your men and tried to free Gabrielle". I could tell that this was going to be a long night.
He didn't answer me. And I guessed he wasn't going to. Although his eyes never left my own. I however continued onto my next question:
"How come your really nice to me one minute and then beating me the next?" This was a fair question. He was more emotionally unstable than anyone who I had ever known. His moods went up and down like a yo-yo.
I placed my hands on my hips, waiting for his answer. In the light of the burning candle I saw his one eyebrow raise as though not sure that he had heard my question right.
Tavington took a deep breath in and said, "What can I say? I have problems controlling my anger. It makes a bad companion, but an excellent solider!"
"I'm sure it dose. But is that also how you have come to have the nickname butcher? Surly that cannot be all good…" I began, although was cut of by the man himself:
"You had heard of me…" he looked up at my confused face, but then continued, "as the butcher?"
"Yes. I heard terrible accounts of what you had done. The man without mercy and kindness, who would butcher surrendering men, and kill the wounded!" I was getting carried away with myself. All of a sudden I looked at the man who was sitting in front of me, and I was disgusted! This was the man who had burned my home, killed my brother and also slaughtered all the wounded colonials!
"Yes, but you had heard of me!" he said. "You had heard of my reputation and you were scared! That's what makes an excellent commander! I struck fear into the hearts of the very men I was fighting!"
"But that's not something you should be proud of." I spat at him. I pulled my eyes away from him, and then I saw it. The shining glint of a silver key placed upon Tavington's desk, not a foot away from where he had placed his gun. Of course Tavington would have the key for a cage.
My mind was racing. I had to get that key, but how! 'Do what you always do' a small voice in my head said…'talk your way out'.
"OK, why is John here? Are you holding him here?" I was trying not to keep looking at the key on the desk, but the more I wanted to avoid looking a it, the more my eyes seemed to wander back to it.
"John…" Tavington began, "What do you know about John?"
"I know that he wouldn't come and work for the British if he had a choice about it!" Why was I defending John? He had hurt me last night with the horrible things he said…and he had slapped me. HARD! It seemed the more I tried to act normal, the more eccentric I was becoming. I felt that every thing I did must have looked as un-natural as it could have done.
"Well it just shows that you don't know him as well as you thought." Tavington rose from his chair, and stretched his shoulders back. Registering what he had just said:
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"I mean," said Tavington moving towards me, "That everything comes at a price. John is only too happy to work for us, lord knows we're paying him enough for the privilege."
Tavington's body was now covering the sight of the key. I could only try and keep with the conversation and hopefully distract him, long enough so that I could get it.
"Then he's a traitor too, just like Wilkinson." My eyes looked to the ground as Tavington was now only a few feet away from me. Probably trying to see my reaction.
"Ok. One more question and then I want to go back to sleep." He said, yawning at the end. This was my chance.
"Are…" I began, not believing that I was about to say this, "Are you married?" My eyes stayed on the floor, if I looked up at him, I might just see how foolish I was being and then run out of the tent.
There was no sound for a second, and then came the tired sound of the word, "No."
Before I could help myself I had asked him, "Why not?" I looked up at him after this statement, genuinely wanting to see his reaction. But soon I was away, not even giving him the chance to speak.
"You see, I think the real reason why you let me live all them months ago at the plantation, was that you liked me. That is why you are always so horrible to me, you didn't know how to deal with your feelings. That's why you told me about Borden and is fiancée, and that's why your always rescuing me from John, you don't want me to get too attached to either of them!"
Saying this allowed, it seemed to make sense. Even though I had never thought about it before. Could this honestly be how he felt, or was it just all coincidence that it all seemed perfect to make my plan work.
I didn't think about it! I didn't let him think about it. I gave him enough time to absorb it, but not enough time to think it over. My mind was once again racing, but in my madness, I stepped forward and kissed him. It seemed the right thing to do.
He obviously wasn't expecting that at all. But he didn't make to push me off, or move back. Before I knew it he was kissing me back! And in a tangled mess (for arms were now flying), I was nudged towards the desk and my hand went down onto the surface.
My cheeks were flushed and burning against the cold air as I walked back up towards the manor. But there was one quick thing that I needed to do, before I went inside. A smile came upon my face, and I began to run. There was a pressing matter that needed sorting. And a promise was a promise.
It was crazy! There was nobody about. The guard that was there earlier had gone and all was quiet. It seemed almost too perfect. I could see my breath in front of me as I ran, but I didn't care.
I looked around once more as I neared the wooden cage that my fellow colonials were being kept in. There really was nobody around. If I were quick, nobody would even know that I had been here, and that the colonials had escaped. If they went now, they would be far gone by morning and were discovered missing! It was perfect!
"Mr Billings!" I said with urgency in my voice. It was true that all men slept heavily, but not on this night. As soon as I called his name, his eyes fluttered open. He looked up at me beaming and I nodded my head in answer to his unasked question.
It was at that moment that I pulled a heavy silver key out of my coat pocket with a smile that could have matched Mr Billings himself. Soon enough I was trying desperately to open the door, but I couldn't find the keyhole as much as I wanted to. I must have been shaking, for the key and the keyhole seemed to be miles apart.
Mr Billings had started rousing the other sleeping malitia. Soon they were all on their feet and ready to go. Mr Billings seeing my struggle grasped my hand and directed it into the keyhole. And the door swung open. The malitia were free!
"Thank you, Lucy." Said Mr Billings, still not letting go of my hand, the other men filing out of the cage and running to the open gate where horses waited to carry them to freedom.
I didn't answer, I just kept nodding my head. It was the young boy who spoke to me next, "Come with us."
"I can't" I said. "Now hurry, you must go, before somebody comes".
"How can we ever repay you?" Mr Billings said, letting go of my hand and edging towards the open gate.
"Run…" I said, beginning to push him. "Run and go back to my father, to drive the British out of here! And Mr Billings, don't tell my father that I'm here."
He looked a little stunned at this mad request. But after me pushing him again, he turned and ran.
"Go, and live. Be free." I said to his running back. I could feel my heart pumping in my ears, and could feel myself physically shaking.
Then I heard it. I knew it was too good to be true. There was the distant sound of somebody's footsteps in the crunchy grass. I looked around, but at that moment, I heard a bang, followed by the sound of a bullet flying past my ear. There wasn't just one of them, there was a whole regiment.
"RUN!" I shouted at the retreating men as more bullets were released.
There was the sound of a scuffle, men were yelling and more bullets. My plan was ruined. We were caught.
In the thick of all the noise, I didn't hear someone pace right up to me. A tight hand was about my arm and when I looked to see who it was, I was looking into the cold eyes of William Tavington.
