Chapter 89 - The Laundry Mangle:

Cilla snuggled into the worn but very comfortable armchair that was so favoured by her uncle, Benjamin. As Emily chatted away, Cilla wondered where Benjamin was at that moment. In the woods, hiding someplace while he did what work he could to free their country, undoubtedly. Would he have helped her? Where Uncle Christopher had turned her away, would Ben have accepted her, bastard child and all? She nodded to herself. Yes, he would have. If only that option had been available to her.

Her mother, she thought, must be at Drakespar. Cilla had not seen or heard from her since uncle Christopher forced her out all those weeks ago. Could Christopher have sent Cilla to her mother? Cilla pondered for a moment, before deciding against it. No, he could not have. Aunt Charlotte had always been so staid and proper - she would not have wanted an unmarried, pregnant dependent anymore than Christopher Middleton had.

"Cil?" Emily prompted and Cilla realised the other woman had asked her a question. They were alone in the parlour now, Sarah and Rebecca had spent time with her and Emily, the three of them telling them everything they knew about Harmony and Bordon, before Sarah and Rebecca decided they wanted some fresh air and sunshine. Cilla and Emily, not interested in either, had opted to stay at the house. Cilla simply had no energy for a walk.

"Pardon?" Cilla said.

"I asked you if you want to talk about it," Emily replied, rising from her seat and pulling up a chair so she could sit more closely. Cilla watched her warily.

"I don't know what you mean. Talk about what?"

"Cilla…" Emily trailed off. "Your marriage has not gotten off to the best of starts, just as mine and James didn't. Lord, it still isn't," she laughed softly. "If there is anyone in this house better able to understand what you are going through, then show her to me. I'm just saying, if you want to talk about it, I'm here."

Cilla didn't want to talk about it. She didn't want to discuss Bordon at all. Or her marriage. Or Harmony Jutland - or Farshaw, or whatever she was calling herself now. Beth was over there visiting her - why in the world was Beth over there visiting her?

"Yours still isn't?" Cilla asked, more to take the subject off herself than anything. Still, she had always been curious about Emily and James. "I remember before you were married, Em. You were always older than me, but I do remember. You and Mr. Wilkins seemed to get along quite well, in the past. But when you married…"

"It all changed," Emily said. She got up and - shocking Cilla entirely - she poured herself a whiskey. She returned with one for Cilla, too. Cilla stared at the amber liquid in the crystal goblet, not entirely certain what to do with it. "Here," Emily fetched a jug and poured in a measure of water. "It'll take the edge off the taste."

"I… I shouldn't…"

"You're a married woman now," Emily said. "You're officially no longer a child. Take it from me, Cil, find what advantages you can."

"Oh," Cilla stared at the glass, even as Emily began to sip.

"You know, I could never say any of what I'm about to say, to Rebecca or Sarah, at least not until they are married. Perhaps not even then, for in truth, I'd never confide to Beth as I'm about to with you. She's so happy with her marriage… she'd never understand mine. Gods, I don't even understand mine."

Cilla, astonished that there were other people in the world suffering, was spellbound already.

"You remember correctly," Emily said as she sipped, she motioned for Cilla to do the same, and the younger wife did. She took an experimental sip and then screwed up her nose at the burning, sharp taste. Emily laughed. "Suffer through it, it'll be worth it, trust me. Two of these and you'll be feeling a whole world better. At least for a little while…" She added solemnly. "As I was saying, James and I got along quite grandly before we were married.

"I don't know how it went so wrong for us… James has despised me since we said our vows. He liked me well enough before we were married, back when it never occurred to either of us that we might. I've often wondered if he was in love with someone else, that perhaps his parents disapproved his choice and forced him to marry me? I'm from one of the leading families, after all. The Wilkins' are not as prominent as my family… I married lower, in marrying James. But I was happy enough to, for he is quite handsome," she trailed off for a moment, her far away expression made Emily appear as though she was, at that moment, someplace else. Or some when else. When she spoke again, it was in a quieter, haunted voice. "He was angry, even from the first night. I really think he was in love with someone that he could not marry."

She paused, she stared down at her lap as she began fidgeting with her fingers. Cilla watched in silence, transfixed. Emily had never confided in her before, but she seemed to feel the need now. Perhaps it had bought a new kinship, the knowledge that Cilla was unhappy also. Perhaps Emily had wanted to speak of it for a long time, for it certainly poured from her now.

"At our wedding, he drank and drank," she continued quietly. "And that night, I waited and waited for him to come to me. Lord, I was so nervous. I was only a girl then, barely twenty years old. I was worried he'd come to me. But as the hours went by, I began to worry that he would not. How shaming it would have been, if he had not. But when he did, I seriously wished he hadn't."

"Did it hurt?" Cilla whispered.

"It was more than that," Emily replied, haunted. "I was so excited, to have such a handsome husband. I always liked James - he was so funny, so filled with jokes and life. Everyone thought so, he needed only to enter a room and everyone started smiling. Including me. I liked him… But that night, he was not James. He stopped being the James I knew, from the moment he said his vows," she quickly swiped at her eyes, her voice was choked as she continued. "It hurt, yes, but I'd been warned of that. But it shattered me, too, if you can understand that."

"How so?" Cilla asked, barely able to breathe. Her first experience had shattered her, too.

"He was so callous. So cruel. Kept me waiting until I'd cried myself to sleep. I was confused, and nervous and worried, that was why I'd been crying. Anyway, I woke up when he climbed into bed. All I saw was a dark shadow and, snapped from sleep as I was, I screamed with fright. He grew annoyed and said something horrid like 'fine, if that's how it's going to be', I don't remember exactly what he said. Then he was pawing at me and… You have to understand, I was so young. I was terrified and even though I knew it was him by now and that that was what we were supposed to do, I was terrified. I fought him a bit…"

"What happened next?" Cilla asked when Emily fell silent.

"He hit me," she admitted, her voice so soft that Cilla had to strain her ears to hear. "Struck me with the flat of his hand. I'd never been hit before, it was quite shocking," she gave a self deprecating laugh. "I'm almost used to it now," - Cilla's heart gave a small lurch at this careless admission and she felt like weeping. - "Anyway. That night. He struck me and I was crying. I still fought a bit - not much though. He held me down, here," she pointed at her wrists. "Pushed my hands into the pillow to lessen my thrashing. He was so heavy, his body laid out on mine, I couldn't move at all then. He tore my shift, rather than raising it gently as I'd imagined he might. His knee pushed between my thighs - that hurt. I had bruises for days after that. He reeked of whiskey," she gestured with her own glass which was almost empty now, "and did not even kiss me. Then he was pushing into me - you know what I mean," - Cilla nodded, eyes wide. - "pushing and pushing and God, it hurt. I wasn't prepared for him, not the way a woman should be prepared to receive a man. He grunted and groaned, hurting me in the dark. And then he stopped, still holding my wrists, he shuddered, his hot breath in my ear. Then he pulled out - even that hurt, his withdrawal. And then without a word, he jerked up from me and began dressing. He left me there, in the dark, alone, frightened, in pain… And broken hearted."

"I'm so sorry, I had no idea," Cilla set her cup aside and rose to sit beside Emily, taking hold of Emily's free hand. Emily gave hers a squeeze.

"Thank you. Cilla, can I ask you something?"

Oh, Christ, here we go, Cilla thought, even as she smiled and nodded.

"I know you were both forced to this marriage, what with your uncle washing his hands of you - quite cruel of him, that. I'm just wondering - do you like Bordon at all?" Emily asked, curious. "You seem so… cool… with one another."

"In truth? No, I don't," Cilla replied, completely unable to lie now she'd been asked outright. "After everything he has done. He tortured my father," she spat. She did not elaborate on what was done to her, as part of her father's torture - it was enough to leave it at that. "We were both forced to this, as you said."

"Well… what of… I know I shouldn't ask, but I can't help but be curious. It's just… After my horrid experience with James, I am worried for you. Did it… did it hurt you, too?"

"More than I can ever describe," Cilla said softly. Her hands trembled as she took another drink. She did not elaborate. Not on the timing, not on any of it. Let Emily think she was speaking of the consummation on her wedding night.

"Was he horrid to you? The way James was to me?" Emily asked carefully, softly. When Cilla gave no reply, Emily sighed. "Oh, Cilla, I'm so sorry," Emily put her arms around her and Cilla, without intending to, burst into tears and leaned into the embrace. Emily comforted her, rubbing her back as she held her. "I'm so sorry, Cil," she said again. "Men… they can be beasts."

"They… they are b-beasts!" Cilla sobbed against Emily's shoulder.

"I wish I could say it gets better," Emily whispered. "At least I can say it isn't as bad now, as it was that first time. Maybe it will be the same for you."

"I'm not… b-bedding him… again…" Cilla said and Emily paused, drawing back slightly, startled.

"How can you not? You're his wife now," Emily said gently, she still held Cilla, she was stroking the younger girl's hair now.

"Never again," Cilla whispered. "Never again."

"Alright," Emily nodded, though she couldn't understand how Cilla could avoid it. Bordon would come to her again, for she was his wife now and it was her duty. What would Cilla do then? But the poor girl was weeping, now was not the time to distress her with life's harsh realities. Perhaps later, when Cilla was composed, Emily would broach it then. Cilla needed to be warned, so she would not be so shocked when Bordon did indeed press her for his husbandly right.

For now though, Emily simply sat with her, giving back the comfort Cilla had given. Cilla, Emily thought, needed it far more than she herself did; Emily had had three years to become accustomed to her horrid marriage.

Cilla drew back, straightening and wiping her eyes.

"Are you alright?" Emily asked and Cilla nodded.

"I'm sorry."

"Oh my Lord, don't be!" Emily gasped. "I told you, Cil. If anyone in this house is going to understand, it's me. Especially now that I know your first time was no better than mine. Dear heart, please - don't hesitate to come to me, when you're feeling low. No one else is going to understand you - not even Beth. I know you love her, you're close and all. But…"

"She and Tavington are in love. She welcomes his touch, she loves him and loves being married to him," Cilla said and Emily nodded.

"She'll want to tell you that everything will be fine. That your marriage will one day be as perfect as hers. While I hope that is the case for you, I don't hold out much hope. Not with the start you've had - just look at James and I, three years on. Besides, there'll always be that damned whore between you." Emily tightened her lips. She drank back her glass, then motioned for Cilla to drink hers too. Cilla did, lots of little, tentative sips, until it was all gone. Emily rose to pour another round, then returned to Cilla's side.

"I don't hold out any hope either," Cilla said. "I don't even want ours to be a good marriage." She took a sip. "I hope he dies in battle," she said softly and Emily's eyebrows climbed her forehead.

She despised James at times, but she did not wish him dead. She didn't know what to say, so she wrapped her fingers around Cilla's and gave a gentle squeeze.

"I hope you don't mind my asking, but… where is your mother in all this?" Emily asked. She almost wished she hadn't, for Cilla went immediately on guard.

"My mother decided not to stay with my uncle," Cilla said stiffly, thinking of an appropriate lie. The whiskey was going down more easily now; it still burned her throat but she liked how it warmed her soul. She understood what Emily meant, now. "Aunt Celeste and mamma never got along particularly well, so she left me with my uncle where she thought I would be safe, while she went to Drakespar to be with my aunt Charlotte."

Emily did not point out the incongruities in this tale, and she let Cilla leave unsaid the things she wanted left unsaid, such as her mother and Bordon's affair.

"I'm dreadfully sorry to tell you this, but your mother can't be at Drakespar."

"Why is that?" Cilla frowned.

"It's really quite awful, but… Mrs. Selton's home was burned. To the ground."

Cilla's eyes bulged. Where the devil was her mother then and where then, was Aunt Charlotte?

"It wasn't Colonel Tavington's fault," she continued.

"Tavington!" Cilla gasped.

"I don't know how it's possible, but it seems Tavington and Mrs. Selton were never introduced in the city."

"My aunt wanted nothing to do with him and she deliberately kept away from him."

"Oh. Well, he came to Drakespar when she was in residence. She must still have wanted nothing to do with him even then, for she gave him a false name when he arrived there, asking if she was Mrs. Selton and if this was Drakespar. She said she wasn't and it wasn't, because she thought Tavington would demand to see Beth, if he knew who he was speaking to and where he was. But Beth was gone by that stage anyway, so Mrs. Selton really should have been honest. If not for that, Tavington might not have burned her home when he learned she was hiding a rebel…"

"Tavington burned my aunt's home?" Cilla asked and Emily explained everything, repeating to Cilla the tale as it had been told to her, from the capture of two rebels who turned out to be Cilla's cousins Gabriel and Thomas, to her uncle's freeing of his sons and the massacre on the road, to Beth's arrival to Fresh Water, which Martin had to flee to stay ahead of the Dragoons, to Beth's confrontation with Aunt Charlotte, who was thoroughly disgusted that Beth had married Tavington. "Dear Lord," Cilla said, shaking her head. "So much has happened. And where is Beth? Next door visiting Miss Jutland, when she should be here, telling me all of this! Gods! Where is my aunt now? Is my mother with her?"

"I don't know," Emily said earnestly. "Wherever they are, maybe they are together..?"

"Maybe," Cilla said, her flare of anger fading as she slipped back into despondency. How could Beth leave her for Harmony Jutland, on her first day in the house? And when there was such news to be told, too. She was beginning to feel quite betrayed and alone. At least Emily was with her still. She listened, sipping her whiskey, as Emily embarked on the tale of Charlotte and the children's sudden disappearance from Fresh Water.

"…And then they just vanished in the middle of the night. Charlotte, the children, even a few of the servants…"

"Then that means…" Cilla thought furiously, trying to determine what had happened and when. "Drakespar might have already been destroyed before my mother even left my uncle's! Gods, no wonder I have not heard from her, she could be anywhere!"

"Don't worry," Emily said. "I'm certain she is safe - she has friends, and other family. I'm certain Mrs. Putman is with someone she knows and trusts. As much as I despise the rebels, she just has to say 'I'm the Ghost's sister in law' and just like that," Emily snapped her fingers, "she will be carried off to him, and he will protect her, for certain. He'd probably take her to Mrs. Selton, he would know where she and the children are. None of us do, but that doesn't mean they're not safe."

Cilla tried to set aside her worry for Emily was speaking wisely - her mother, her aunt, and the children were sure to be safe. It was the not knowing that was churning her stomach. "The Ghost?" She said to Emily now. "You called him Mr. Martin once, not so long ago."

"Well, a lot has changed, hasn't it?" Emily asked. "It's always been uneasy between Loyalists and Patriots, but not so much as it is now. The division is deep, now. I can't imagine we'll ever live peacefully with one another again, even after the British oust the rebels from the Colonies."

Who says they will? Cilla kept this question to herself. She did not want the fissure to extend to her and Emily, especially now with discovering they had such common ground. Nor did she want Emily to know just how deeply she despised the British - she hoped Emily didn't learn she'd spied back in the city, she might lose her entirely, then.

Nevertheless, she could not help but wonder. With the likes of her uncle fighting against them, alongside Burwell and other great Patriot Generals… Why should Emily be so certain of British success? Perhaps it would be Patriots ousting the Loyalists from the Colonies… Now there was a thought to warm her, even more than the whiskey did. But then, if her kind did win the war, what would become of her? The wife of a British Officer… Would she be forced to live in England, with Bordon? She shuddered at the thought, feeling suddenly chilled all over. She took a much deeper drink from her glass, then shuddered again as it went down.

"It would be far better for the rebels to remember their Loyalty and return to the fold, like Lieutenant Farshaw did," Emily said, thinking of her lover who, according to Mrs. Salisbury, had recovered enough to be able to move about again. His ribs were bruised, not broken as first suspected. His other wounds troubled him, his eye was only just now able to open enough to make the administration work he was doing for Major Fallows that much easier. He would start meeting her in Mrs. Salisbury's tent again soon, another day or two, he told Salisbury. Emily prayed that Wilkins would be sent out again, it was so much easier to leave the house at night when he was not in residence.

"Farshaw?" Cilla frowned.

"He was a Continental before he was a British Officer. Or so I'm told," Emily said. It was dangerous, speaking of Calvin, but she found she was desperate to speak his name. "I'm told he is quite formidable."

"I'm told he beat his wife until she was unrecognisable," Cilla said, feeling distinctly uncomfortable in discussing the Farshaw's.

"Well, you can hardly blame him, surely? He'd just found out she had returned to Bordon - she'd resumed her affair with your own husband."

"We weren't married," Cilla shrugged.

"No, but you are now. You keep an eye on that strumpet, she clearly has no respect for her own wedding vows, I doubt she'll have any for yours. As I was saying - her husband is quite formidable. Handsome too, I saw him the day he came here to fetch her. You should see those green eyes of his… Lord, he's one to make the girls swoon."

"Emily," Cilla gave a weak giggle as she cast a nervous glance over her shoulder. The door was shut, they were quite alone. "You shouldn't say such things."

"No, I suppose not," Emily said. "He seemed so calm that day, but you know, when he discovered that his wife was dallying with Bordon, he went quite berserk. I saw her, afterward. Covered with blood and bruises, she was beaten so badly she could barely walk - she looked quite wretched afterward. She'd be a fool to cross him again," Emily sniffed, satisfied.

Cilla's eyes widened. Blood and bruises? He beat her so she could barely walk? Cilla had met Miss Jutland on several occasions, she would have been a likeable enough lass if not for her base character, and if Cilla hadn't had to listen to Richard and Harmony's bedsport - all that awful noise coming from their chamber in the Putman residence back in the city. Still, as low as she thought of Harmony, she didn't like to think of a woman beaten so badly that she was covered in blood and could not even walk.

"I remember, back in the city, when Tavington took over my house. My mother -" Cilla cut short for a moment, she breathed in deeply with remembered fury. She loved her mother, but Gods, to have an affair with Bordon… Was she no better than Miss Jutland, then? Cilla couldn't ask Emily, to do so would mean she would have to reveal her mother and Richard's affair and that, she would never do. "We were forced to share a chamber, and unfortunately, it was right next to Tavington's and… And Bordon's…" God, she hated even having to say his name. "We could hear everything they did with their bawds - Tavington with that Miss Stokes, Gods, they used to beat each other and they liked it!" Emily's eyes bulged. "It was disgraceful. Bordon and Miss Jutland were no better, all the crying out and moaning. Thank God Tavington let mamma and I move to the far end of the hall corridor, in a room as far from theirs as was possible to be while still on the same floor. We could still hear Tavington and his bawd, but we didn't hear the other two after that. Thank goodness. Still…" Cilla trailed off.

"Yes?" Emily prompted, finding herself riveted. She plucked Cilla's glass from her hand and rose to refill them - hers was straight whiskey and Cilla's was watered down. Still, it was having an effect on the girl, Emily could see the colour in Cilla's cheeks now, and she wasn't in the slump she'd been in when they first began their chat. "Still?" She said, handing Cilla back her glass.

"I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy, what Farshaw did to her. To beat her so horribly," she shuddered. "I just… I don't think that was right, either, what he did."

"Yes, well, perhaps not," Emily said, not wanting to argue. "Tell me, Cill," she averted her gaze, staring at her finger as it made a slow rotation around the top of the glass. "Did you ever see… Did my husband… Did he ever take a woman back to your house?"

Cilla curled her fingers around Emily's. "No," she said gently, "but I did hear him talking with the Middleton twins and your brother about doxies a lot. Of going to the taverns, drinking, gambling. And ending the night with… a… a scandalous woman. I'm sorry, Emily - he didn't bring them back to my house, but he…"

"He did bed them," Emily nodded. "I know. I've known for some time, in fact. It doesn't matter," she shrugged as she dabbed at her eyes, must have dust in them. She wasn't crying, for she simply did not care anymore. Cilla was still gazing at her with sympathy and Emily forced a bright smile. "So, my brother visits doxies to now? Lord, that boy. He's had horrid influences of late."

"In those two commanders and in Mr. Wilkins, most certainly," Cilla sniffed. "And the twins, too. I despair for their wives, where I never did before."

"Me too," Emily said. "I pity the poor woman that ends up like us."

Cilla nodded, taking no offence, for it was true enough. They were both married, and extremely unhappy in it. "You said earlier that Beth and Miss Jutland have become close friends," she said cautiously, trying to stem the flare of jealousy.

"I'm sorry that I had to tell you that, but yes. She must see something in that woman that I, most certainly, do not. Even your aunt, Mrs. Selton, spoke out against it, Cilla. But Beth… Well, she's a headstrong girl, is she not? I'd never speak poorly of her, not in a hundred years. But sometimes I have the feeling… I believe she likes to go against the grain sometimes, and she doesn't seem to care how it effects other people. I love her dearly, mind… It's just a feeling…"

"Perhaps Beth will end the friendship now that I'm here," Cilla said uncertainly. "Continuing a friendship with my husband's former lover is worse than merely going against the grain.

"Yes, I'm certain that Beth will finally see how… improper… the connection is now," Emily said, though she sounded doubtful.

"You don't believe it either, do you?" Cilla murmured and after a startled hesitation, Emily finally shook her head. "What if Beth has grown so close to her that there is no room left for me?" Cilla asked, tears springing to her eyes. "Has my husband's mistress taken my place?"

"Oh, no, no no," Emily rushed to reassure Cilla. "You're Beth's blood, Cil. Her cousin. Her dearest friend, apart from Mrs. Ferguson. And even then, I'm certain she would choose you over Mary, if she was forced to. Mrs. Farshaw?" Emily barked a contemptuous laugh. "She probably just feels sorry for her, that's all."

"Much of the reason I could stomach marrying him, was because I was informed we were coming to Fresh Water, where Beth is," Cilla said, near to sobbing. "If she can't even spend time with me though…"

"Shhh, it's alright. You have Becky and Sarah. And you have me. Don't you? We're friends too, aren't we?" Emily asked and Cilla nodded though she still looked miserable. "I think you and I, with our shared misery, the two women who can understand one another best, I think we're going to become very close in the coming months. I feel it in my bones, Cil. You've got me, and Beth isn't even your only cousin here. I know you're further removed from Becky, but she is your blood too. You're not alone here. Even if Beth is next door visiting that damned whore, we won't let you be alone. And she'll come back, you'll see. You might miss out on her for a few hours, at most, but all the other hours will be yours. You'll see!"

"Perhaps you're right," Cilla wiped her eyes, then she met Emily's with a tentative smile. "And I think you're right about the other thing too. You and I… I think… if you'd like… it'd be nice if we became very dear friends."

"I think we already are," Emily said, throwing her arms around Cilla's shoulders. "I told you, take what advantages you can from your marriage. You didn't want to marry him, but now you can sit here drinking whiskey with me, because of it!"

Despite herself, Cilla threw back her head and laughed far more than the amusing comment warranted - the whiskey was going straight to her head. Emily was laughing too, the two giggling like girls as Emily purposefully steered their conversation to Tavington and Linda Stokes' bedsport. Cilla told her all she could, with neither woman understanding why couples would want to strike and whip one another during coupling. Talk then turned to far lighter matters, such as the possibility of a ball in the coming days, for they had learned earlier that Lord Cornwallis intended to visit Fresh Water Fort, and with the arrival of the Lord General, some wealthy Loyalist or other was bound to host a soiree. They spoke of gowns, with Emily excitedly suggesting a visit to Pembroke in the hope of finding silk of high enough quality to make dresses for them all.

In the small bedchamber Harmony shared with her husband, Beth and Harmony sat on the bed, speaking quietly. Harmony had her knees drawn up to her chest and Beth sat cross-legged at her side, gazing at her friend with concern. Harmony's face was pallid, almost grey, her eyes puffy, her lips bloodless.

"Richard did not tell me he'd managed to get a letter to you," Beth was saying in a commiserating tone. "I'm glad he did. He wanted to come and speak to you in person but General O'Hara would not permit it."

"So he said in the letter," Harmony murmured, staring out the small window. The day was so dark and ominous, great black clouds threatening a deluge at any moment.

"Did you get any sleep last night?" Beth asked, concerned.

"Not a bit," Harmony heaved a sigh. "I couldn't stop crying. All night and for half the morning. I haven't been able to stop."

"I can see that," Beth said gently. Harmony's eyes were puffy and rimmed with red.

"It's just... I can't understand it. It's like it won't sink in, you know? My fiancé. The father of my child. The man I love. My man, Beth. And he's married to another woman..." Harmony buried her face in her hands for a moment. She did not start crying again, she merely held still, breathing deeply. Then she scrubbed her fingers over her face vigorously and heaved another sigh. "How can he be married?" She met Beth's eyes. "I must have been really horrid in a previous life to deserve this. Or perhaps I'm being punished for my sins in this life. What have I done that's so dreadful that Our Lord sees fit to punish me this way?"

"You've done nothing wrong, Harm," Beth soothed softly. "You're just being dealt a really bad hand at the moment..."

"A fucking horrible hand, if you ask me," Harmony ground out crisply. Beth did not bat an eyelid at Harmony's swearing. "And what do you mean, 'at the moment'? That would suggest I've just hit a rough patch and things will be better soon. But how can that be? Christ, two people would have to die, for this to get better. Two people, Beth. Calvin and your cousin," she held Beth's eyes, saw her friend wince. "They would have to die, to free me and Richard, in order for this to get any better," Harmony laughed softly, bitterly. "Or me and Richard would have to die!" Tears welled and her voice became hoarse, she struggled to form her next words. "I'd welcome it too. Death would surely be better than this!"

Beth threw her arms around Harmony's shoulders and pulled her close, while the grief stricken girl struggled to gain her composure. At length, Harmony managed.

"I'm alright," she whispered, rubbing at her wet eyes with the heel of her hand. "Calvin warned me, I'm not to weep where people can see me."

"Back to that again, are you?" Beth arched an eyebrow. "Well, if he hits you this time around, O'Hara will have his hide."

"I don't want to cry anymore, anyway," Harmony replied, some strength returning to her voice. "I don't want anyone sniggering behind their hands, when they look at me and see how upset I am. Whispering that the mistress has been ditched for a wife. And I am just tired of crying, you know? It's all I do now, it's been going on for weeks! How could Richard do this to me? I love him, so much. How could he up and marry another woman? I don't fucking care if she's pregnant! She goes snivelling to Cornwallis, and he demands Richard marry her? Fucking hell, the stupid chit lifted her skirts and spread her legs for Richard - it had nothing to do with Cornwallis! Why should he have gotten involved at all?"

"Wait..." Beth was gaping at Harmony, shock freezing her in place. "Wait... She's pregnant?"

"You didn't know?" Harmony tightened her lips. "Yes, she wouldn't want that to become common knowledge, I suppose. Miss 'prim and fucking proper' wouldn't want her precious reputation tarnished."

"God, she's pregnant," Beth closed her eyes and reeled. It was just as she'd feared, Cilla had had a liaison with Bordon, and he had gotten her with child. "Lord, I can't believe he would do such a thing. He seduced my cousin!"

"Don't you blame him!" Harmony defended, voice hot. Though she was furious with Richard, she would not hear a bad word spoken of him. "He's a man like any other. Why would he refuse some whores quim when it's offered so freely?"

"Harmony!" Beth cried. "I doubt my cousin did any such thing!" She hesitated, and ventured softly, "is that what Richard said she did?"

"No," Harmony spat, continuing with reluctance, "he did not go into the details of their fling, beyond vowing it only occurred the once. But I have no doubt about it. Bordon strayed when Mage crooked her finger - she seduced him to get information and there's Cilla, flirting and gossiping with Brownlow and Dalton for the same. Somehow, she flirted with Richard and he took what was offered up. For whatever reason, he believes the child to be his, but if you ask me, it's just as likely to be Brownlow's or Dalton's. Richard was an opportunist back then, falling into bed with any bitch who offered it. But he didn't actively go and seduce other women - he had me, remember? Like a fucking blood hound scenting a bitches heat, he took what she offered up."

"No, Harmony, you are mistaken," Beth protested, an edge entering her voice. "I know Cilla. She is a virtuous young woman and I have no doubt that she did not 'offer' herself to anybody, let alone a British Officer. If they had a... fling... as you say -"

"Of course they did, how else is she pregnant with his child?" Harmony sneered. "Or Brownlow's or Dalton's."

"You don't know that," Beth said. "You don't know any of that! I know for a fact that all she did was chat with them, she did nothing more. Yes, the subjects she focused on were to gain as much intelligence as possible, but she did not bed them."

"And yet here she is, pregnant," Harmony said. "I'm sorry, Beth, but you can't know anything for sure. You weren't with her when she was in private with them. Hell, you spent most of your time with William! At some point, she did indeed bed one of them, likely for information, and now she's pregnant and it's Richard that is forced to take responsibility for it!"

Beth rose, feeling agitated and restless, she went to stand before the window, arms folded across her chest. Harmony was right - Beth knew Cilla to be good, but if she was pregnant, then at some stage, she did what Beth never imagined she'd do. She bedded a man out of wedlock. Beth had done the same, she'd bedded Banastre, had an affair with him for days, so she certainly was not judging her cousin. Instead, she tried to put herself in Cilla's shoes, easily done seeing she had walked them herself.

"Her father was guilty of treason," she mused, trying to work her way through what might have happened, what Cilla's motive might have been. "And he took flight before he could be captured. It was the right thing for him to do, he would have hanged otherwise. But Cilla, she would have still felt abandoned." Just as I did when Harry took flight from me. "Even when she understood the necessity. Except for her mother, she was alone, probably scared with being confined to the house and surrounded by Dragoons." She thought of that night when she'd been feeling her lowest, when Banastre had walked back into her life with wine and music and hilarity and how Beth hadn't ever wanted it to end. How she hadn't wanted to be alone, so she invited Banastre into the chamber with her. "It takes two, Harmony. Neither is innocent, but I doubt she was lifting her skirts and offering her quim like some doxy, as you imagine. If she was at her lowest, and feeling alone and scared and unloved, all it would have taken was a few kind words from Richard, when she was at her most vulnerable -"

"If you are about to suggest he took advantage of her, then you can damned well leave now," Harmony said harshly, and Beth gasped in shock, her jaw dropping. Harmony modified her tone, "look, Beth. I don't want to argue with you, I don't want us to be out of sorts over this. You're my only friend in the world now," she choked back a sob, and tried to force the ever present tears back. Beth softened as well, and returned to the bed and pulled Harmony into her arms. "However it happened," Harmony continued, voice wretched. "It happened and now she's pregnant. It doesn't matter who seduced who; they had relations and because she's of the elite or aristocracy or whatever you want to call her, Cornwallis made Richard take responsibility. Richard had so many affairs back then, Lord, if each one of those women came forward declaring they were pregnant with his child," she laughed bitterly. "There's only one Richard, he can't marry them all. But because this one's uncle is powerful and can mostly likely raise all hell, Cornwallis took a stance and demanded..." She fell silent, shaking her head.

"Did Richard tell you all of this in his letter?" Beth asked. "That Cornwallis made him marry Cilla?"

"Of course he did - Richard did not want to be married to her - or anyone else, Beth! He was hoping - hell, we were both hoping - that Calvin would do us both a favour and bloody well die for true this time. If I was a widow - a proper widow - then Richard could marry me, so of course he was reluctant to take responsibility for Cilla! There was little hope for us as it was, but with him married, now there is no hope at all!"

Beth hung her head, struggling not to take sides or make judgements. Her friendship with Richard was strong, but she was hard pressed not to be furious with him at that moment. Not only did he lay with Cilla - taking her virginity Beth did not doubt, despite Harmony's spiteful assumptions - he also got her pregnant and was then forced to marry her, by command of the Lord General himself!

Lord, how shaming for Cilla!

Harmony spoke into the silence. "All she had to do was flounce on up to Camden, wearing her prettiest silks no doubt, and cry prettily in front of his Lordship."

"Is that what Richard said?" Beth asked.

"No," Harmony huffed sullenly. "It's just how I imagine it happening. She won Lord Cornwallis' sympathy and because of that, she gets to marry my man."

"I'm really certain that was not the case," Beth defended Cilla again. "I know that she's every bit as reluctant as Richard. This is all Mr. Middleton's doing, I was told as much yesterday when it was explained why they married. He forced the issue, though nothing was mentioned about a pregnancy. He had Cilla in his charge and he must have discovered she was pregnant. He is quite a stuffy sort of person, very jealous of his privilege and his status in society. And his wife," Beth snorted, "Christ, she's even worse. No, this was not at Cilla's design - it was Mr. and Mrs. Middleton's."

"It doesn't matter whose fault it is," Harmony sighed, forlorn. "God, this is all so hopeless. It hurts so much, Beth. And I'm angry. I am so angry with him. Oh, not for the fling, I've long since accepted that he did little more than screw anything in skirts back then. I'm angry with him for marrying her. I don't care what the damned reasons are anymore. Your cousin is married to my man, Beth," she said sharply. "My man! As far as I'm concerned, she's another money born chit who lifted those silk skirts of hers and spread her silk clad legs. She, out of all the little bitches he fucked, got pregnant and it's forced my man to do the right thing by her, and in doing so, your damned cousin has taken away any chance of happiness that my man and I might have had."

"Harmony, please," Beth wrung her hands, struggling. She despised hearing Cilla spoken of so horribly. But Harmony was implacable, she continued on, ignoring Beth's distress completely.

"Richard, the father of my child, will raise hers when he should be raising ours!" She declared, face hard. "Their child will get the better father, while our child is stuck with Calvin! Theirs will be wealthy and want for nothing, while ours will have nothing! And she gets to be with him," Harmony choked back a sob and her face twisted with grief, "while I'm stuck with Calvin! She gets it all, because they had a quick fucking rut, while I gave Richard my all! I've endured so much, forgiven him so much, and she gets it all after spreading her legs one damned time?"

"Harm, please," Beth begged, filled with anguish, "she's my cousin and I love her. She's not the horrid person you think she is. She's not the Mrs. Tisdale type!"

"Horrid or not," Harmony said, resting her chin to the tops of her knees, "she has Richard and I don't."

Beth sighed heavily. Harmony began to withdraw into herself, she barely even seemed to notice when Beth whispered that she had to leave, but would return as soon as she could.

Harmony remained on the bed, alone with her grief, for how long she barely knew. Half an hour, perhaps, until the heavens opened and the promised deluge was released to lash against the windows like a wild beast. The storm suited her mood completely and she edged along the bed where she leaned her exhausted body against the wall, feeling numb as she stared into the storm.

Feeling as wrung out as an old, used dishrag, Beth stomped up the steps and walked woodenly into the house. Her Dragoon escort began to disperse while she pulled off her hat and cape and hung them both from a hook on the inner wall. She kicked off her muddy shoes with a deep, forlorn sigh, and then padded into the parlour, where Cilla was sitting with Emily, Sarah and Rebecca.

"Oh, you're back," Emily greeted brightly.

"That I am," Beth rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms. "Lord, I'm tired." She took a seat opposite Cilla and sighed heavily again.

"We were worried you'd miss lunch," Cilla said, eyeing Beth carefully. "You were gone quite a long time."

"Yes, I…" Beth hesitated as she met Cilla's gaze. Christ, she was pregnant! But did it make any difference? She was safely married to Bordon now. Bordon, who had been forced to it by Cornwallis. And Cilla, she would have been forced to it by her uncle. Why had they bedded one another? For the comfort of another bodies? It must be so, for Cilla was hardly behaving like a woman in love, a woman pleased with her new husband. She must have needed comfort back in Charlestown, and she seized on what Bordon offered. Bordon had to have known how vulnerable she was... And yet he took her to his bed anyway. These were all assumptions, Beth knew, but she could hardly ask Cilla outright, could she? In a guarded way, she continued, "yes, I was gone a while. But I'm back now. Is that… is that whiskey, Cil?" She asked incredulously.

"Yes. Emily said we're allowed to drink it, because we're married now. Would you like a glass?" Cilla asked.

Beth frowned. She could hear the slurring quality to her cousin's voice, no doubt from being tipsy. She could also hear the bite in Cilla's voice, as though she were angry or somewhat. "No, thank you. Did anything happen while I was out?"

"Not a thing," Cilla answered with a glance at Emily, who shrugged and shook her head. Cilla leaned forward intently, not ready to abandon the subject of Beth' whereabouts. "Will you be returning there anytime soon? To the Ferguson's I mean."

"Later today, perhaps. Certainly tomorrow," Beth said, again carefully. Cilla's lips tightened.

"Perhaps it would be better that you didn't," Sarah broached, eyeing both cousins at once, understanding how they both felt. Still, she sided with Cilla in this, it simply was not proper for Beth to continue being Mrs. Farshaw's friend any longer. It never had been in the first place, but it was doubly so now, with Cilla married to Mrs. Farshaw's former lover.

"Why not?" Beth frowned at Sarah.

"We all know the answer to that, Beth," Cilla said, somewhat crisply. "Or do you actually require an explanation?"

"Cilla, Harmony is -"

"My husband's former mistress," Cilla snapped, out of patience. "I'll go and find Miss Stokes, shall I? Make a friend out of her?"

"Cilla…" Beth breathed, utterly shocked and hurt.

"Well, what's the difference?" Cilla asked. "Miss Jutland, or Mrs. Farshaw, or whatever she calls herself these days, is still the same woman from the city, who came back to my house when my mother and I were confined to it, and bedded Major Bordon, in a chamber right down the hall from mine! We could hear them, every moan, every thump of the bed! Was he married to her? No. Were they even engaged back then? No, they were not. What does that say of her virtue, Beth? Very little, very little indeed. And you would continue to visit her? Lord, you are the Colonel's wife. You are from an excellent family of high standing. You will embarrass both your family and your husband by consorting with such as her. What more is there to be said on the subject?"

"William doesn't feel that way," Beth frowned, feeling miserable. "He is not embarrassed by my friendship with Harmony."

"Well he should be, for it reflects just as poorly on him as it does on the rest of us," Emily said, voice blunt.

"The rest of you?" Beth gasped, aghast, her wide eyes taking in those of all her friends. Rebecca and Sarah lowered theirs, but they voiced no protest at being included. Therefore, they agreed with Cilla and Emily, who did stare back at Beth, both implacable in their resolve. Beth was beginning to feel hunted, as the other women banded together against her.

"I believe Colonel Tavington allowed your friendship with Mrs. Farshaw to be known only when she became engaged to Major Bordon, did he not?" Emily asked. "Before that, you were never allowed to be seen in public with her."

"Well, that is true, but -"

"They are no longer engaged, Mrs. Tavington. Which means Mrs. Farshaw has plummeted back to her previous, precarious position. Not that of a Lieutenant's wife, for that would be an elevation for her, from what she was in Charlestown. She is what she herself has created, an adulteress, a woman of very low standing," Emily said. "She is not a worthy companion, her friendship reflects poorly on you."

"She is not the only person of my acquaintance that is an adulteress," Beth snapped and Emily drew back, stunned.

Sarah and Rebecca both gasped, their eyes swivelling toward Cilla, whose face flushed a slow, angry red. Gods, Beth was speaking of Emily, not Mage Putman!

"I am going to forget you said that," Cilla said, voice strangled. "For despite the crime, the comparison is an extremely poor one."

"Cil, I didn't mean -"

"We all feel this way," Cilla raised her voice over Beth's attempt to smooth the water. "As Miss Jutland, that woman drank until she was soused, she allowed men to pat her bottom as she served at their tables, she allowed one of those men to become her lover! Well that lover is married, now. To me. The idea that you would even consider continuing your friendship is an insult to me!" Cilla placed her hands in her lap to hide the trembling. She was both angry and nervous all at once; angry that Beth would even think of continuing her friendship with Harmony, and nervous because, well, Beth was as known for her temper as Cilla herself was. If it came down to the two of them shouting at one another… "I am informed that Aunt Charlotte tried to counsel you the same, and you ignored her thoroughly. However, given my marriage to Bordon, your friendship with her is even more a scandal now, than it was then. You're not some changeling from the forest, Beth. You are one of us. You were raised the same as the rest of us. You understand how it works the same way we do. You know the reasons why it would reflect poorly on all of us, as well as on yourself. Why do you persist in this? If her own bawdy behaviour were not enough to dissuade you from her, then surely you must take into consideration how much lower the Farshaw's are to us?"

"Cilla, that's a terrible thing to say!" Beth shot back hotly. "My father raised me differently to yours and you know it. That's why I needed those years under Aunt Charlotte's and your mother's direction, if you recall. But if this was the sort of lesson they were trying to teach me, then I don't want it, and nor would my father! I don't believe that anyone is beneath me, just because they don't have the same wealth and privileges I've had in my life!"

"Or the same morals, clearly," Cilla shot back and Beth gaped.

"Sweet Lord," she tossed her head, struggled to maintain a sense of composure. Quietly, she said, "my father has always said that the higher we rise, the harder the fall. And that all we have left when we're at the bottom is our honour, and - if you've been a decent enough person - our friends!"

"A decent enough person," Cilla seized on this and used it ruthlessly against Beth. "I agree that a decent person would be worthy of your friendship even if they're of low means. Is that what she is, though? Can you honestly say she is decent, when she lifted her skirts for -"

"Enough!" Beth surged to her feet, her face flushed red with rage. Christ, she was getting it from all quarters! First Harmony, speaking so horribly about Cilla and now this! But this was worse, for all four women were demanding that she abandon Harmony! "Goddamn it, Cilla! Harmony is my friend and I will listen to no more of this!"

"Then you do choose her?" Cilla asked, tears stinging her eyes. "You choose her! You're my cousin. My flesh and blood! I love you like a sister. We've been close for… forever! And now I lose you - not only to Colonel Tavington, but to Harmony Farshaw as well? I have no one left in all the world, and now I've lost you, too?" Cilla, who had been ready to battle Beth, to browbeat her until Beth relented and end her friendship, found herself overcome instead. Anger fled and in its wake came desolation so acute, she dissolved into tears. She could feel Emily's hand rubbing her back as she buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking from the force of her sobs.

"Oh, Cilla," Beth dropped to her knees and pulled her cousin into her arms. "You haven't lost me," she soothed as she rocked Cilla gently. "You'll never lose me. I love you, too, so much. You could never be replaced in my heart, not by William or Harmony or anyone else. Surely I'm not so miserly as that? There's room in my heart for all of you." She tried to smile weakly but Cilla did not see, she continued to cry into her hands.

"Please don't go back there," the desperate girl begged between sobs. "Please, Beth."

Stroking Cilla's hair gently, Beth closed her eyes and bit back a groan. How could she promise such a thing? To abandon Harmony now, when she most needed her? Yes, Cilla needed her too, Beth understood that. And she also understood everything the women were trying to tell her, about how poorly her friendship with Harmony would reflect on herself and those around her. But wasn't that what was friendship about? Sticking by one another, regardless of your differences? Besides, Beth truly was no better - having lain with a man out of wedlock. And she didn't even marry Banastre afterward. She married William, and never told him she wasn't a virgin when they married. She would not place judgement on Harmony when she had conducted herself no better. Emily and Cilla should not be judging anyone either - Cilla had to marry Bordon because she is pregnant! But how could she say any of this to Cilla? She could not. And so she merely held her, stroking her hair and rocking back and forward, soothing, but offering no promise to sever ties to Harmony.

"You won't lose me," she did promise that much. "All I'm asking is for you to share me. There's room enough -"

"I can't share you with her!" Cilla gasped out, outraged. She sat up, pulling out of Beth's embrace. "How could you ask it of me?"

"We have to find some middle ground here, Cilla," Beth said, feeling wretched and frustrated all at once. When Sarah handed her a handkerchief, she dried her own wet cheeks. "I do understand - I see it all as clearly as you do," her glance at the other women showed she was speaking in the plural, addressing them all. "But I do not believe that I am any better than Harmony and I will not end my friendship with her just because she's done things you don't approve of. Though I love you dearly," she turned back to her cousin, "nor will I end it for you, just because you are feeling anxious. I am caught in the middle of you both and I vow here and now, I will not be forced to choose one over the other. You both need me, and I am here for both of you."

"Well that's just wonderful," Cilla spat. "But what will people think when they see you going to her? To my husband's former mistress! They will think that you are going to her because you don't support me. That you don't love me!"

"Cilla," Beth sighed. "No one will think that. But if you're worried, then… Well, we can always prove them wrong, can't we? We could go for a walk, right now. We'll visit the camp followers together and stroll about the camp." She reasoned that, after every person on the plantation had seen them together, no one would question how important Cilla was to Beth. "Come on. We'll go now -"

"I will go now," Cilla said, rising so abruptly, Beth was still on the floor at her feet. She glared down at her cousin. "With Emily. And Sarah and Becky, if they want to go for another. You're tired, you said. You should go to bed," Cilla was ruthless, she forced herself to ignore the hurt on Beth's face as she strode around her and headed for the door. She heard the others rising and did not need to look back to know that all three women were following. None of them cared to go for a walk, Sarah and Becky had just returned from theirs. This was their protest, their way of showing their absolute and profound disapproval, to Beth. In the hall, the four of them pulled on capes and caps. Cilla chanced a glance into the parlour to see Beth on her feet, standing before her father's great arm chair, watching them in stoic silence as tears coursed her cheeks. She had a moment's misgiving - she knew she was being harsh, and to a person she loved dearly. Emily must have sensed it, for she felt the older woman's hand on her arm.

"It must be done," Emily murmured, guiding Cilla toward the door. Cilla pulled her eyes away from Beth and - as she was the one to start all this - she led the way outside.

"Gods, she'll hate me for this," Cilla said, knowing fully well what she'd done.

"Maybe we should -"

"No," Emily snapped at Rebecca. "No, this had to be done. Everything will be fine, we'll be back to normal by dinner time. But we had to let her know how seriously we're taking this. Perhaps she'll finally see sense, this time. Don't worry, it'll all blow over, everything will be back to normal before you know it."

"Unless she continues to go and see her," Cilla said. Emily nodded, agreeing. It wouldn't blow over so quickly then, that was for certain.

"Where have you been?" William snapped when Beth slipped into her father's office. He threw down his quill and pushed back from the desk, then strode around it to challenge her. "I haven't seen you all bloody day!"

"Oh God, not you too," she groaned, on the verge of tears again. She really WAS copping it from all quarters! All the people she loved were against her today! She sniffled and, seeing how upset she was, William's anger drained from him.

"What's happened, Little Beth?" He asked her as he pulled her into his arms.

"You could have started with that, instead of the other!" She scolded, voice wretched.

"I'm sorry, my darling," he crooned into her hair. "Tell me what's upset you."

"It's Harmony and Cilla. Sweet Lord above, I feel much like a shift must feel, after it's been through a laundry mangle! My arms should be aching, I feel like they both have a hold and are pulling me back and forth between them! Harmony is saying the most horrid things about Cilla, she's jealous and upset and heartbroken, and I don't blame her. But I love Cilla and it's horrible to hear those things from Harmony. And then I get back here, and Cilla starts in on how I should end my friendship with Harmony! And the other women too - all siding with her, banding together against me! They worry about how it will reflect on them, and on my family name and even how it will reflect on you! And Cilla - she was crying because she thinks I don't love her, because I refused to give up Harmony! And then they all got up and walked out on me! All of them! That was so cruel of them! I know it's only because Cilla feels so alone, she believes I'm all she's got left in the world and she's frightened she'll lose me. But there was no cause to be so cruel! Lord, it's so horrid and confusing! I just want us all to get along, but that will never happen, because Harmony and Cilla despise each other without ever even knowing each other and… Damn and blast it, then I walk in here and you have to be all angry too! What is wrong with you people! There is only one of me, I can't be everywhere at once!"

"Shh," he pulled her back into the circle of his arms when she tried to push away. "I said I was sorry, didn't I? Stop struggling, damned wench," he scoffed fondly. When she settled against him, he tilted her head back to meet his gaze. "You didn't think it would be easy, did you? Harmony and Miss Putman - Goddamn it, Mrs. Bordon," he twisted his lips, it was so hard to think of her as 'Mrs. Bordon'. He doubted he'd ever get used to it. "Those two will never get along with one another, not in a hundred years."

"I won't chose between them," she ground out, her dark eyes fierce. "I just won't. Oh, what am I to do?"

"Stay here with me," he replied without missing a beat. Brushing her hair back from her face, he gazed down at her with a small smile. "Just curl up in that chair there and do my sewing."

"William!" She managed a soft laugh and his grin deepened.

"I've missed you," he admitted, kissing the tip of her nose. "I've missed seeing you curled up there while I'm working. You don't have to go anywhere or do anything you don't want to. As your husband, I command you to sit in that chair, where you will spend the rest of your afternoon."

"Doing your sewing," she giggled. "Very well. Give me the entire Legions mending and I'll have the perfect reason never to leave this room."

"You already have the perfect reason: I'm in here," he released her with another smile and returned to his seat behind the desk. Instead of nestling into the comfortable armchair, Beth rounded the desk and draped her arms over William's shoulders. Her fingers worked slowly at the knot of his cravat, eventually pulling it away from his neck completely. With that obstruction freed, she kissed his bare skin.

"Stop that," he protested, though he made no move to pull away.

"No. I need more cuddling," she whispered, her lips brushing, raising goosebumps along his neck.

"I've work to do," he protested half heartedly.

"Hmm, hmm," she whispered, drifting higher to trace her tongue over the shell of his ear. "So I can see."

William sighed when she persisted, and he leaned back, lifted his arms high, and dropped them back over her shoulders, linking his hands behind her head. "You insist, I take it?"

"You could say that," she murmured against his cheek. "You want to make a baby, don't you?"

"Very well," he grumbled as though she was being quite unfair and he was hard done by. "If you're to have your wicked way with me, might I make a small suggestion?"

"Certainly, as long as you don't suggest I wait."

"Never that, you're terrible at waiting for anything," he quipped. "No, my dear. I was going to advise you to lock the door," he gave a pointed looked toward the door and she blushed crimson. "Hmm, no, you would not want anyone to walk in on us, especially when we're in the compromising position we'll soon be in."

"What position is that?" She asked, her heart beginning to pound as she crossed the room and turned the key in the lock.

"Up against the wall, I think," he replied.

"I don't think I'm strong enough to support your weight," she joked, feeling much better now that she was with him.

"Damned goose," Tavington chortled. He held out his arms to her. "I think you'll like this," he murmured against her lips when she was back in his embrace.

"Almost as much as you will, I'm sure," she smirked. Grinning, he slipped his tongue into her mouth and kissed her deeply. Amusement began to recede as their need grew. Beth, unbuckling his belt and pushing his his breeches, began to caress his length with the tips of her fingers.

"Mmmm," he whispered, his eyes glazing. She glanced down at his cock and licked her lips, thoroughly drawn in by the sight of having his impressive erection in her small hands.

"I can't believe I was afraid of this once," she whispered. "I wouldn't even look at it. Do you remember?"

"The Simms ball," he smiled, reminded of their time together in Arthur Simms chamber, when the two had been alone on the Cornet's bed. Still holding him with her right hand, Beth reached up her left and ran her fingers along his smooth shaved cheek, gazing at him intently.

"I loved you so much," already at the ragged end of her emotions, tears filled Beth's eyes. "Even back then, though I'd only known you such a short time. God, I loved you so much it was pure agony."

He gazed down at her, studying. "And yet you abandoned me, anyway."

"Are you still angry with me?" She asked, holding her breath. His face softened and he wiped a tear from her cheek with the tip of his thumb.

"No. My conduct toward you was very... Poor," he admitted. "I'm not angry with you any more. I understand your actions. But you're not to do it again, hmm?"

"No, I couldn't stand not being with you," she gasped as an unexpected sob burst from her.

"It's a good thing I came after you, then, isn't it?" He smiled down at her, then sighed heavily. "Don't cry, Beth..."

"I'm sorry, I know I'm being silly. It's just... After everything this morning... I need you to know I love you, William. So much. From the first moment I saw you. I'd never leave you again, I swear it. It was agony then and it would be even more so now. I'm sure I'd die of it this time, if we were parted again."

"For me too, little one, do not doubt it," he murmured, kissing her and tasting salt on her cheeks. "I'll have to leave you on occasion, you know this -"

"I do know. It's torment for me whenever you ride out, but you know that's not what I mean. I'd die, I'm certain of it, if a rift between us caused us to part ways. You know that's what I mean."

"And I know that that's never going to happen," he said intently, holding her gaze. "We've conquered all the obstacles that stood in our way, my sweet Beth. There's nothing that can come between us now," when she lowered her eyes, gnawing at her bottom lip, he sighed, partly in exasperation. He continued with feeling, "Beth, you're just on edge because of Harmony and Mrs. Bordon. You are worrying over nothing," he smiled then and, shuffling back slightly, he lifted the bottom of his Redcoat and stared downward with a significant look. "You worry too much, and you've made my cock go all soft."

A sobbing laugh burst from her. Warmth filled her chest as she gazed up at the man she loved so much. Her voice still thick with emotion, she said, amused, "I suppose I should do something about that, hmm?"

"Yes, believe you should," he replied, pale eyes alight with mischief. Her hands disappeared beneath his Redcoat again, his lips parted when she took a gentle hold of his member and began to stroke him back to hardness.

"What a little innocent thing you were back then," he murmured.

"Not innocent now," she caught his gaze.

"No, not now. You know just how to handle me now. And your appetite is almost as bad as mine. Hmmm, yes, that is… Hmmm," he dropped his head back as she wrapped her fingers around his length and began to tug him quickly. Slipping one hand lower, she cupped his sack gently and massaged. His cock twitched, and when she glanced down, she saw a pearly drop glistening from the tip. Biting her lip, her stomach did a small flip, as she brazenly swiped her thumb around the tip of him, massaging that moisture all along his helmet.

"Ah, Beth," he murmured. Holding the hem of his Redcoat up and out of the way, he glanced down to watch her progress.

"I love how smooth it is," she said dreamily as she played. "Soft, like silk, but so hard inside…"

"Only when I'm with you," he sighed, leaning in to kiss her. "I love you, little one. I meant what I said, too. If you want to stay here, then that's damned fine by me. You can escape them both."

"They both need me," she shrugged. "I love you, William," she said again, earnestly, holding his gaze.

"And I you," he smiled, stroking her face with his fingers gently. "Now… let's see about making us a baby, hmm?" She giggled as he began to push her back against the wall, lifting her skirts all the while. It was no easy feat, and he was hardly graceful with his breeches impeding his movements. He would not take the time to push them off, however. Not when there was no need. Beth draped one arm over his shoulders as he hoisted her high in the air. As he kissed her, she toyed with one of the gold buttons of his Redcoat, while the fingers of her other hand caressed his nape. He groaned against her mouth, kissing her gently even as he guided her legs around his waist, positioning her, then pushing his member upward into her warmth. And there he stayed, holding her body between his and the wall, his sword buried to the hilt inside of her.

"It's different, yes?" He asked her and she nodded, her face flushed and lips parted.

"It's so full… wonderful…" She closed her eyes and dropped her head back against the damask wall momentarily. Then she murmured, "now what?"

"Now this," he replied, pulling his shaft out slightly and plunging in deep again.

"Oh, yes… Ah, William…" She met him thrust for thrust, faster as the two became frantic in their need. Her fingers on his nape curled and tightened, and with her other hand, she almost pulled the gold button free.

"Tighten your legs on my waist," he whispered, voice harsh. She complied and he pushed her hard against the wall, bucking in a frenzy as he drove his phallus, plunging them toward orgasm. "Ah Christ!" he groaned, seizing her hair and crashing his lips to hers.

"William, William! Oh, God," she thrashed on his length, bucking wildly, ankles hooked behind him. His legs were straining, from the strength it took to hold her, even light as she was. He parted his boots, gaining purchase and began to thrust hard.

"Agh, can't hold..!" He rasped. Then he felt her spasming around his shaft, she threw back her head and keened, and with that, he let himself go, thrusting; grunting into her neck as his fluid shot out of him and deep inside of her. Holding still, he swallowed hard, and gradually came back to himself.

"Hmmm," Beth sighed, thoroughly replete. "You'll be doing that again, and very soon, dear heart."

"That I will," he began kissing her neck, his lips drifting up to her ear, then across to her mouth. "Again and again…"

He slipped out of her and lowered her gently, setting her feet back on the floor. As she pushed her skirts down, he pulled his breeches up and buckled them. Taking hold of her hand, he curled his fingers around hers, and tugged her toward his chair. "Stay with me," he commanded, pulling her down into his lap. Beth made no protest, snuggling into the comforting warmth of his body as he tucked the chair closer to the desk. Beth shuffled until she was sitting comfortably across his lap, with her head against his shoulder. With one arm around her body supporting her, he managed to continue to work with his free hand, reading missives and supply lists, writing commands and letters. Within moments, Beth's full weight was resting on him and her soft snores told him she'd fallen asleep.

Those two women, he thought scathingly, angry with both Cilla and Harmony. They had drained Beth completely for her to be so completely exhausted, that she would fall asleep like that. Though it became quite awkward, with her sleeping in his lap while he tried to conduct his duties, he was determined to not wake her for all the world.