Tavington and Margaret's Fall Out

As Margaret stepped through her front door, Sarah came to meet her, having heard the carriage pull up.

"Did you enjoy your evening, Miss Margaret?" She asked as Margaret began to climb the first set of stairs.

"Yes, it was quite fine," Margaret replied. "Though I am tired now and need to lie down."

"Too much dancing?" Sarah guessed as she followed her mistress. "Did you eat at all? The Middleton's would have put on a feast, would they not?"

"Yes, I've eaten," Margaret reached the top of the steps, turned and continued on to the second landing. Every step was a chore, she was not lying when she told Sarah she was tired. She was exhausted and wrung out. But it was important she readied herself quickly for bed, so she could lock her door, barring Tavington out. The thought of him entering her room as though he owned it, as though he had every right to be there, and the words that they were sure to exchange as soon as they faced one another, caused her to quicken her pace. He could be back at any moment, after all. How was she to know that he hadn't borrowed someone's horse and ridden all the way back? If that was the case, if he had not taken one of the carriages, he could be climbing up the stairs behind her in moments.

When she reached her inner chamber, she lifted the key from a hook and as soon as Sarah was within, Margaret locked the door. Her maid frowned and tilted her head, puzzled.

"I don't want to be disturbed," Margaret explained. She glanced around the brightly lit room and when her eyes fell on her bed, she averted her gaze with a sharp sigh. He slept - right there - beside her, her body curled around his...

Not anymore. She thought as she sat at her small sitting table. Sarah began to pick up on her mistresses mood and started her work in silence. Pulling the pins from Margaret's hair first - there were so many the process took some time.

Margaret stared blindly at her reflection as Sarah moved behind her, tugging her at hair gently.

William bedded Catherine... She thought to herself with despair. And Betty - her maid.

Focusing her gaze on the mirror, she watched Sarah's reflection as the girl worked. A dark suspicion began to grow inside her and her expression became distrustful. Just how well did she know Sarah, anyway? The girl did her work well, and she seemed grateful for the opportunity Margaret had given her, choosing her for her Ladies maid when Maisy became her Companion. But just how grateful was she? It was no secret that Margaret and William bore affection for one another, though the maids did not know where he spent his nights. Still, they must surely know he was 'unavailable'?

Sarah began to hum softly, a tune that was meant to be comforting. The girl sensed her mistress's mood, but was still unaware of her mistresses suspicions. Margaret studied Sarah in the mirror. What she saw was a pretty, young girl - not quite twenty years old. Her hair was a deep brown colour and was always pulled back under a cap, as was proper. Her dresses where plain and proper as was befitting for a Lady's maid, but beneath, Margaret knew the girl had a fine figure, with full, large breasts. Her dark brown eyes were large, her lips full and her skin milky and silky smooth. All of these features were set in a pretty, heart shaped face.

"Sarah, have you known General Tavington's attentions?" Margaret suddenly burst out, unable to keep her doubts to herself any longer. Sarah froze and stared past her mistress, meeting her eyes in the mirror. Her mouth dropped open with shock and her eyes wide with horror, she was struck momentarily dumb.

"No Miss Margaret!" She breathed finally. "Why would you think it? I would never do such a thing! Not with any man and certainly not with guests in this house! No -"

"I am sorry, Sarah," Margaret turned in her seat to face the girl. "I've had some disturbing news this evening. It seems some of the Green Dragoons have been indulging..." she waved her hand and sighed. "Never mind. I am sorry - but I had to ask you. I had to know for certain. I do believe you."

Sarah blew out a profoundly relieved sigh. For a moment there, she had felt as though her position in Margaret's household had hung by a thread, one wrong word would have seen her out on the street. Her entire future was caught up with Margaret's now and depended entirely on Margaret's good will. She told her mistress as much now, finishing with, "I'd never sniff around where you have a claim! Please believe me, you can trust me absolutely."

"I do believe you, Sarah," Margaret sighed. "But I do have another question. Has he tried to seduce you? Has he made advances toward you? I will not hold you at fault, I just need to know the truth of it."

"No, never. Not the General," Sarah said emphatically. "That Lieutenant Evans was a pest at first. I didn't think he would take no for an answer and I was going to make a complaint, but he seems to have settled down."

"Evans!" Margaret frowned and tightened her lips. "You should have told me, right away! I thought he was falling in love with Mary, she certainly is with him! He is so attentive of her, but here you're telling me he made advances toward you?"

"Oh, it was in the very early days when the Green Dragoons had first moved in. Miss Mary visited here a few times after they were quartered here and come to think of it, he stopped after one of her many visits. Luckily for me," Sarah smiled. "It was a relief when he stopped - for he is quite handsome and charming. To be honest, I did find myself wanted to steal away and kiss him but I never did. I promise, I never did."

"I know," Margaret said, wishing she'd had the same willpower as Sarah did. "What of the other maids, have they spoken of receiving attentions? Not just from Evans or Tavington, but from any of the Dragoons in my household."

"No, Miss Margaret, and if they had, they'd have spoken about it. We all sit up for a half hour or so in the loft upstairs, sharing gossip before retiring and if anything untoward had happened, they'd have told me. Besides, most of them have beaus already. Two are even engaged, did you know?"

"Yes, I knew. Perhaps I am worried for nothing," Margaret sighed.

"I will ask them outright tonight, if you wish to know for certain?"

"Yes, please do," she nodded and Margaret turned listlessly in her chair to allow Sarah to continue her work. Finally Margaret's long, strawberry gold hair was brushed until it shone and she stood so Sarah could help her undress. When she finally stood in nothing more than her shift, she turned to Sarah.

"I'm going to keep my door locked tonight," she said and Sarah frowned, and gave Margaret that puzzled glance again. Feeling a small explanation was in order, she continued, "I mentioned that I learned some disturbing news this evening. Well, I imagine that Tavington will want to defend himself, to give his side of the story. He is not a patient man and can be quite selfish. I would not put it past him to come striding in here with all his authority, expecting me to obey him and listen to what he has to say as though I was one of his Dragoons, a subordinate. And to be honest, I am just too tired. I don't want to see him, I am too exhausted for the quarrel that is sure to come. And so I shall lock my door. If you need me during the night, remember to bring your key."

"Oh..." Sarah whispered. "He can be quite frightening... Miss Margaret - should I have Jonah stand nearby? He could sleep in the sitting room -"

"No, that will not be necessary," Margaret shook her head. Sarah crossed the room to the bed and pulled back the covers for Margaret, her last duty before retiring. But a noise outside alerted her and she darted to the windows.

"Oh, is that him?" She asked fearfully as she jerked the curtain aside. "I heard the carriage… Oh - yes - I can see it coming up the lane! I'll wager it's him - he's here!" She cast a quick, worried glance over her shoulder at Margaret. Nerves shot through Margaret, she pressed her hands to her stomach and breathed deeply to try and get control of them.

"Quickly, quickly," she said then, and ushered Sarah out of the room. "Good night, I will see you in the morning."

"Good night." Sarah bobbed a curtsy as the door was closed behind her. She waited until she heard the key turn in the lock before fleeing the room. Her heart pounded, Margaret's worry was infectious. Heading through the corridors, she avoided the stair well, knowing Tavington would be striding up the stairs at any moment.

Despite Margaret's objection, she decided to go and fetch Jonah.

:::::

Margaret turned the key in lock, then pressed her ear to the door, straining to hear the slightest sound beyond. When the outer sitting room door opened and then shut softly, she heard it clearly and her heart began to pound in her chest. A moment later, the door handle jiggled and she glanced down at it with trepidation, watched it as it turned slightly back and forth. She even heard his soft curse, when he realised the door had been locked.

"Darling?" He called quietly and Margaret closed her eyes as grief washed through her. That drawl - the English accents, how many times had she revelled in his voice while the two moved together, naked, in one another's arms? Despair flooded through her as he continued to call to her, cajoling now, "come now, let me in, my darling. We must discuss this."

She leaned her head against the door and breathed raggedly, fresh tears streaming down her face.

"Margie?" He knocked again, more persistently this time. The door handle jiggle again, with more force. Then he lost his temper, as she had suspected he would.

"Margaret!" He snapped in fierce command, every inch the General, accustomed to instant obedience. "Let me in at once!"

She squeezed her eyes shut and, feeling weak in the knees, leaned her body against the door for support. As tears coursed her cheeks, she bent her head to the door. With a loud crack, Tavington punched the door on the other side and Margaret gasped, falling back several steps. She stared at the door, wide eyed with horror, expecting it to splinter and burst in at any second...

"Sir," Jonah's voice was muffled through the closed door. Margaret almost swooned with relief - Sarah must have gone to summon him after all.

"I think Miss Putman is sleeping," Jonah continued.

"You know she is not!" Came Tavington's harsh growl. "You will get a key and open this door immediately! I need to speak with her!"

"No, Sir. Miss Putman clearly does not wish to speak to you, or she would have opened her door for you by now," Jonah reasoned politely. "Perhaps it can wait until tomorrow, when you have both had a good night sleep?'

"Will you not obey my order?" Tavington grated incredulously. "I am giving you a direct command!"

"Sir," Jonah replied, ever calm. "I understand your authority but she is my mistress. If you wish to put me in chains, so be it. I will not open this door."

"Jesus Christ!" William snapped, but Jonah was continuing.

"Give the mistress one night. Whatever this is about, I am certain it can be resolved in the morning. Clearly she is not ready to discuss it and so I implore you, leave her be - tomorrow will come soon enough."

"Very well," William said after a short silence, his voice composed. Margaret's eyes widened in shock, she had not expected him to surrender so easily, nor to be so reasonable, not after such a violent and insistent display. He'd damned near smashed in her door! But now he was leaving and she took him at his word. Her weak knees would certainly give way at any moment and so she lurched away from the door and stumbled to her bed, perching on the edge with a heavy sigh.

"Oh, Sarah didn't shut the drapes," she whispered, her eyes falling on the bank of windows and the door leading to the balcony. "Oh - sweet Lord - I didn't lock the balcony!"

Sudden fear gripped her and she lurched off the bed, hurrying over to her table where she kept the balcony door key in a small wooden box. Now she understood why he'd 'surrendered' so quickly! Ripping the box open she grabbed the key, then rushed toward the door. Too late - she knew it at once. She saw his dark and shadowy figure suddenly appear on the other side and before she could even place the key in the key hole, the balcony door was shoved open. She lurched back to avoid being hit by the door. Placing her hands on her stomach, she could only watch with horror as Tavington strode in, his face thunde. He slammed the door shut behind him and strode forward to stand before her, his eyes blazing.

"You just leave?" He bellowed at her. "Just like that?"

"What did you expect?" She cried incredulously. "That we'd dance some more? Christ, William!"

"You did not even give me a chance to explain! To tell my side of it!"

"Your side?" She almost laughed, such was her shock and astonishment. "Do you have a side? Do you think you can justify rogering my cousin's wife? And oh -" Margaret scoffed bitterly and jabbed her finger at his chest. "And let us not forget her maid!"

"Christ, Margaret - I did not even know you then!" Tavington ground out. "I had never met you -"

"She's pregnant!" Margaret cried, her eyes blazing. "You heard them! And Peter doesn't know who the father is - it could be you!"

"It could be anyone! The woman's a whore!"

"And you're better are you? Christ, you've probably been screwing your way across the Colonies for the last four years!" She threw her arms up in exasperation. Then her eyes narrowed and she taunted, "I asked you once how many women you've bedded. I'll ask it again. How many women have you left crying for you, William? How many of those have you left with your bastard growing in their bellies? I called you a strumpet once, and although I was joking at the time, it seems I had the correct measure of you after all!"

"There is no need to be snide, Margaret," he said in a prim tone.

"But a man can't be a strumpet, can he?" She tilted her head to one side, her lips twisted in derision. "No. A rake, I think. You are nothing more than a… a…" she struggled for the right word, then when she found it, she shouted, "a libertine!"

"Some men would consider that a compliment," Tavington sneered. " 'A seducer of women'… I should thank you."

"Don't bother," she spat, taking a step back from him and folding her arms beneath her breasts. "So. Are you looking forward to parenthood William?"

"There is no certainty that I am the father!" He growled. "I was not her only lover! There were at least four others, of that I can assure you."

Margaret gasped. "Peter told me, but how do you know this?"

Tavington tightened his lips with vexation, frustrated that he'd said more than he'd meant to.

"I just do."

"She told you, didn't she?!" Margaret accused and he lifted his chin haughtily - a dead give away to Margaret now. "Yes, she did. Did she also tell you who they were? Peter said there was one who was unknown to him - do you know who it is?"

"No, she did not," Tavington told the lie easily with a positively deadpan face. The fifth, he knew, was none other than Margaret's other suitor, Captain James Wilkins. He would not reveal that to her now - in fact, he would not reveal it at all. He would not betray one of his own Dragoons, no matter the cost to himself.

"Well, be that as it may," Margaret snapped, "you are still a candidate! Your philandering has destroyed my cousin's marriage! You're not just a rake, William - you're an adulterer!"

"You are being over dramatic, don't you think?" He hissed. "She all but threw herself at me!"

"Oh, and you could not possibly have resisted her?" She arched an eyebrow.

"I could have," he admitted. "But I had been in the saddle for days and I show up at my billet - with the Master of the house away - and his wife all by opening her legs for me! I'm a man, Margie - flesh and blood only - and frankly, I was not of a mind to! Besides, I am hardly the first man to take advantage of bounty when it's offered!"

Margaret had begun to glower, her face darkening with his every word. His last comment pushed her over the edge.

"Don't be so flippant about this!" She placed both hands on his chest and pushed him, hard, though he barely moved an inch. "Bounty? Jesus Christ!"

She shoved him again but again, he barely moved and she snatched her hands from him, wanting no physical contact between them. Her eyes were raging when they met his, but her voice was cold and deliberate.

"I've already asked Sarah, but I wish to hear it from you. Did you ever try your 'seductions' with her? Or with Maisy, for that matter?"

"No. I have not - not with either," he said at once. Then he leaned in closer to her, his expression menacing. She held her ground by a hair though his nose was a bare inch from hers and she could feel his breath, hot, furious bursts on her face. "I would not do that to you," he ground out. "None of your maids have had my attention. How could they? Why would I look at any other woman when you are at my side?"

At any other time, she'd have melted to hear those words but just now, despite the words being loving, his tone was filled with rage. Besides, his wording niggled at her, alerting her, making her suspicious. Why would he say 'when you are at my side', shouldn't he have said, 'with you in my life'? She tilted her head to one side to study him.

"And when I am not at your side?" She asked shrewdly with an arched eyebrow.

His eyes widened and he tightened his lips. Then he raised his chin haughtily and just like that - she had her answer… She wondered briefly if he realised just how much he gave away with that haughty expression, but then the full weight of the expression's meaning crushed her and she felt the strength drain from her.

"Lord, there have been others, while you've been with me," she breathed. Weak kneed, she stumbled back to sit heavily on the edge of her bed. "Who?" She whispered up at him.

"No one! A few of the camp followers who offer to do more than wash shirts for a few extra coins - nothing more than doxies! She was nothing more than… than…" he searched for the right word to describe Amity, "tension relief before and after a battle! You have no reason to be so angry about this!"

"I'm angry to discover that I'm just one more woman in a long line of seductions!" She cried. "Another notch on your bedpost!"

"That is not true!" Tavington said earnestly and closed the distance to stand before her. "You mean far more to me than that! Far more than they ever could!"

Margaret had not finished however. She rose to stand toe to two with him again, her strength returned, her anger reignited.

"It's as I thought! Women across the Colonies have been left crying into their pillows, after you've seduced them and left them with their broken hearts and their bellies growing with your bastard! How many, William? How many bastards?!"

"This is madness!" He ground out, beyond frustrated. He continued in an accusing tone, "you are angry because I have not been chaste these last four years? I did not even know you then!"

"Yes, it's madness," she spat, "I should not be jealous of them, not at all! But this is not just my jealousy at play here, William. Those women illustrate my point to perfection - they show me the measure of you, that you could treat with them so lightly! Your past history with them makes it impossible for me to believe you when you say I mean more to you! Why would I mean more than they? There is no difference between myself and them!"

"There is plenty of difference -"

"It's sport for you, isn't it?" She ploughed right over his objections. "A way to stroke your ego and satisfy your needs at the same time!"

He drew in a sharp breath - she had, after all, hit the nail on the head. Thats exactly what those other women had been - all but two of them, and now Margaret. Who had come to mean far more to him than Kitty and Bonnie. Put together! But because of his history, he was frustrated to realise - she would never believe that!

"Fine, those other women came before me," she conceded intently. "I can not be jealous, I can not hold you to account for them. I can, however, hold you to account for the ones you rogered while you were sharing my bed!"

Tavington's patience snapped.

"DOXIES!" He bellowed. "How can you be jealous of them - it is madness!"

"This from the man who spends the night in a jealous fury every time I dance with another man!" She challenged, reminding him of Maisy's debut banquet. "This from the man who brooded for days after I spent an evening with one of my suitors! At least I did not lie with them! I did not bed them! Not like you, rogering these 'doxies', these camp followers!" Ignoring his rolling jaw and piercing gaze - evidence of his fury - she jabbed her finger at his chest and continued in a taunting tone, "perhaps I should illustrate my point, by rogering James!"

Tavington's face twisted with rage. Margaret cut off with a strangled gasp when he seized her arms and threw her to the bed. He was on top of her in moments, pinning her with his weight. Tavington, deranged, completely out of control, balled his fist and snapped his arm back. Margaret screamed as his fist flew for her face and she cowered to one side as much as she could. Thought had returned in the nick of time and at the last moment he angled the blow away from her. His fist still punched forcefully, but safely, into the mattress right beside her head. He could have struck her easily even with her attempt to twist aside but with the return of reason, he had chosen not to.

"Well," Margaret whispered. Breathing raggedly, she turned slowly back to him and locked her eyes on his. He listened as she continued softly, "perhaps you understand my jealousy now? My feeling that you've betrayed me? You knew I wasn't serious just now, about bedding James. And yet, the mere suggestion of my doing so could cause you to react like this."

"The difference, sweet Margie, is that I care nothing for those women and will never see them again," almost nose to nose, Tavington glared down at her, his voice as cold as ice. "However, you do care for Wilkins - you've made that abundantly clear. And he is certainly in love with you. Wilkins, you and I both know, desires nothing more in life than to be married to you."

She barely blinked as she stared up into his pale blue eyes, poised so closely above hers.

"And I believe he is going to get that wish, William," she informed him softly and his eyes widened with shock, then despair by turn. "And if you believe your infidelities are not enough reason for me to end this between us, there is the matter of your continual violence toward me. You almost punched me just now."

"I wouldn't have," he whispered down at her. "I was angered - but I gained control of myself."

"And if you hadn't?" She asked. "I'd be bleeding right now. And in more pain than I've ever known in my life, I suspect. You controlled yourself by a hair, William."

There she was, laying beneath him, entirely at his mercy but for the oddest reason, she felt entirely in control of the situation. Perhaps it was because her decision was already made, and she would not be balked or reasoned with. She would not be turned aside or convinced to continue their affair. Tavington, by contrast, was still clinging to hope that he could, indeed, convince her not to end their liaison. Searching her eyes now, he finally saw her rock hard, implacable resolve. She would not be swayed, she would not fold. Not this time.

A heavy weight settled on his chest as he continued to study her. She saw it when he finally accepted that there was no hope. His gaze shifted from despair to stone. His eyes, though anguished, had held a shred of hope. But now they sharpened, becoming hard.

"Very well," he said coldly. His face closed to her and he nodded curtly, then pushed himself off her abruptly. And then he was standing at the side of the bed, staring down at her as she sat up slowly, their gazes still locked. He bowed, a quick, short bending of his trunk as one did when bidding someone farewell. Then he turned sharply and strode back the way he came, stalking across her chamber to the balcony door. He slammed the door shut behind him, and was gone.

She lay back on the bed and curled into a ball, her eyes squeezed tight as anguish and heartache welled up inside her. Laying there weeping, she was oblivious to such things as time - it could have been a minute - or an hour. But suddenly a great 'BOOM' split the night, and a moment later her windows shook and rattled with such force, for a moment she feared they'd shatter. Shocked out of her stupor, she lurched off the bed and raced out onto the balcony, immediately identifying the source of the explosion. One of the man o' wars in the harbor was ablaze. Great, intensely bright yellow and white flames leaping in the air stories above the ship.

The ship was further out in the harbor - directly across from where she knew Middleton Place to be. Those on the grounds and in the mansion certainly would have felt the force of the blast - far more than she with her shaken windowsShe gazed with horror at the battleship, wondering fearfully how many men were aboard. How many were dead - and dying - at that very moment.

At the exact same time as she had come out onto the balcony, Tavington had also. The General stormed from his bedchamber and stared at the blazing ship with shock, before letting rip a stream of expletives. Margaret heard some of his words from where she stood, something about 'damned Middleton the Goddamned traitor!" before he rushed back inside. A few minutes later she saw him riding his horse in haste - back toward Middleton Place, she suspected.

Solemn and grave now, Margaret stood at the rail, quietly watching the blaze. She was soon joined by members of her staff. Her maids surrounded her on the balcony, weeping quietly for the lives lost this night.

::::::::::::::

Tavington thrashed at his horse with his spurs, urging the mount to ever more speed. On through the night he flew, racing back to Middleton Place. Once he reached the plantation, he saw exactly what he'd been expecting to see - Redcoats rushing about in every direction, resembling a kicked wasps nest.

He leaped from his horse - throwing the reins to a groom - and strode through the ranks of soldiers, through the manor in search of Lord Cornwallis and Sir Henry Clinton. He found them both in the large receiving chamber, where Margaret had verbally sparred with Mrs. Middleton. While the room was still decorated fit for the ball, the guests had departed, leaving only Redcoat Officers, their subordinate soldiers, and a handful of Loyalist Gentlemen and their wives.

"My Lord," Tavington said shortly when he reached the Commander in Chief and the Lord General. "Commander. What news?"

Both men turned to him. Brigadier General Charles O'Hara stepped closer also and inclined his head stately toward Tavington.

"Ah, there you are, General," Clinton greeted, his voice grave indeed. "What news? A rebel attack, though you could guess that already."

"Seventy-three men were aboard," Cornwallis supplied solemnly. "It seems the Ghost has been busy."

"You have confirmation that it was him?" Tavington asked.

"No," Cornwallis shook his head. "I am assuming, is all. So far, very little is known. In fact, all we know for certain is that a ship has blown in the harbor and the amount of people who died this night."

"And have you questioned Middleton?" Tavington glanced over his shoulder and saw the Gentleman standing with his wife by the large fireplace, both seeming out of place with all the milling soldiers. And they both seemed nervous as well, Middleton was patting his wife's back and whispering reassurances.

"Do you believe he might know something of this?" Cornwallis asked.

"There is not a doubt in my mind, my Lord," William ground out as a thoughtful Mr. Simms came to stand beside him, entering the group to join the discussion. The Loyalist Colonial glanced over at Middleton speculatively. William continued. "It is well known that he is a Patriot. All of this," he waved his hand through the air in contempt, "was merely to seduce us, which we already knew. We allowed him to do so for we had much to gain but now I must question his timing for the ball," he held up one hand and began ticking his points off each finger as Simms, Cornwallis and Clinton listened closely.

"One, the rebels could not have pulled off an attack of this scale, without the assistance of a person of prominence," he said crisply and continued to count off his fingers. "Two, he managed to draw two hundred Redcoat Officers, as well as the Commander in Chief and the Lord General, to a place of his choosing with a direct view of the harbor, where the attack was to be staged. Three, the land he owns extends for miles past this plantation. And as it is not guarded, it provides an… unlocked gate if you will, for the rebels to access the harbor. It is my belief that he has, very quietly, been slipping rebels and ammunition across his land, in dribs and drabs, for the last few days."

"And the motive behind the attack?" Cornwallis asked Tavington. He had a fairly decent idea of what the rebel's aim had been, but was curious to discover if Tavington had drawn to the same conclusion.

"This was a display to show the Patriot's might, their resolve, and," Tavington continued, "their reach."

Cornwallis nodded, agreeing - it was as he had suspected, also. Clinton, O'Hara and Simms stared at Tavington with astonishment for several long moments, before shifting that same gaze over their shoulders toward Middleton. When he felt their eyes on him, Middleton shuddered. Sweat popped out to bead his brow and his jaw worked from side to side. Mrs. Middleton, seeing her husband's fear, turned to see what had caused him such alarm. When she saw the Officer's eyes on them, her eyes bulged and she gave a 'yip' of fear, before rushing to hide behind her husband.

"An admission of guilt if ever there was one," Simms mused. "That was well reasoned, General. I find it easy to believe your conjecture - in fact, I find it difficult not to! It had my wife, Margie and I most perplexed, the Middleton's sudden change of heart. I can see now, how this might have been his motive all along."

"Thank you, Mr. Simms," Tavington said graciously.

"Their reach can be as long as it likes," Cornwallis growled with threat, "but if he is guilty, nothing will save Middleton from hanging. Bordon!" Cornwallis called. "Evans!" The two Officers glanced over their shoulders and began making their way toward the group of Commandants. Cornwallis issued a command as soon as they reached him. "Take Mr. Middleton into custody immediately. Mrs. Middleton also. Judging by her weeping, I'd say she knows far more than is good for her. I want them both questioned in relation to tonights attack."

"Yes, my Lord," before the Officers could move away, Clinton added a command of his own.

"Do not be gentle with them," he said darkly. After a slight hesitation, Bordon and Evans nodded and made their way over to the frightened couple. Mr. Middleton began protesting at once, and Mrs. Middleton flat out fainted dead away, slumping to the floor. Evans had to call over another Officer to help - Binnings was soon at his side and both were lifting Mrs. Middleton to carry her from the room.

"I agree with Mr. Simms, Tavington," Cornwallis announced. "That was well reasoned and I can not imagine for a moment that you might be wrong."

"Thank you, my Lord," again Tavington inclined his head.

"Seventy-three of our own killed in one, swift attack," General O'Hara murmured.

"If the Middleton's are guilty," Clinton announced. "They will hang. The bot of them"

::::::::::::::::::

The British were swamped with work for the next several days. The trial to determine Mr. And Mrs. Middleton's guilt began immediately and at the same time, the clean up effort began. Many bodies were salvaged from the harbor, burned, grisly and grotesque due to the manner of their death. Most of the bodies could not be claimed, for they had gone down with the ship, which had burned and sunk far too quickly. Not a single person aboard the ship survived the blast.

A memorial was held, which Margaret attended, right along with almost every denizen of Charleston, as well as hundreds of Redcoat Officers. She stood gravely at Lucy Simms side, with many of their acquaintances surrounding them. The mood was solemn, for the manner of the sailors death had been horrific indeed.

The day following the service, the denizens of Charleston lined the streets and the over looking balconies, to watch as a beaten and battered Mr. Middleton made his death march to the gallows. With his hands tied behind his back, Middleton stumbled along, his head held high, walking to his own death.

Under Bordon's questioning, he had admitted guilt. As Tavington had suggested, Middleton had helped the Patriot militia, in twos and threes, to cross his properties and convene at the harbor, where they resided in hastily built batches for two nights before the ball was to take place. He had helped obtain Redcoats for those rebels, and had even procured forged written orders, resembling Clinton's handwriting and signature, so they might board the ship they chose as their target. They had deliberately chosen the one ship that, based on their intelligence, would have the most British sailors on board. Rowing out in small boats, they had taken charge of the ship after a quick skirmish on its decks. They had freed the Continental prisoners below - rowing them to safety - before blasting the ship with the wounded and bound British Officers still on board. Middleton had revealed many other details of the attack but the one item he would not reveal - which frustrated Tavington to no end - was the identity of the Ghost. Who, by Middleton's account, had been in command of the attack. The identity of the Ghost, it seemed, was a carefully guarded secret, known only a small few. Mr. Middleton had not even shared the information with his wife.

Mrs. Middleton, it was decided, would not hang. Though she was guilty of treason, for she'd had knowledge of the attack all along. She was currently in the cells at Provost Dungeon, she was not even permitted to watch her husband hang.

Loyalists jeered and cursed Middleton as he strode by them. Patriots watched also, the crowd could tell who was Patriot - by that grave silence. It was over and done with quickly - after a fifteen minute walk, Middleton climbed the gallows, faced the crowd and said not a single word as a mesh sack was placed over his head. The noose came next and after a stirring speech by General Tavington himself, who stood at Middleton's side, denouncing the Patriot man, the floor suddenly dropped away from the rebel's feet and his body dropped, only to halt a foot above the ground, where it dangled and swayed ominously.

Middleton's neck snapped and he died instantly.

Ignoring the crowd's cheers and 'huzzah's, a dispassionate Tavington stepped down from the gallows, his face as hard as stone.

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A/N - Just in case you know your history and are thinking… "hmm, that didn't happen", yes - I've taken huge artistic license here. My Mr. Middleton is a fictional character - I do not believe anyone of the actual, heavily Patriotic, Middleton family were executed for treason. :-) I just thought I'd approach the Patriot movies Middleton's from a different angle - try to figure out why they (in the movie) had such a huge change of heart. They were Patriot at the beginning of the movie, and the next thing we knew, they were hosting a ball for Cornwallis… Why? We have our answer! LOL.