Chapter 90 - Cilla and Emily:
Thoroughly distressed, Cilla moved away from the door. It was bad enough that she had to share Beth with Harmony, but with Tavington, Beth's time was split three ways. And it was clear who Beth enjoyed being with most, judging by all the laughing and chortling coming from within the bedchamber. How any sane person could take such pleasure in being alone with a man like Tavington, she would never know or understand. Cilla had never heard the Colonel laugh before, or she could not remember having ever heard him; she had not thought him capable of it. She moved back to the door, pressing her ear close, for it had gone quiet within - the laughter had stopped. She strained her ears, wanting to know exactly what was happening within; until she heard a definite and very satisfied womanly moan.
"William, oh god, yes!" Beth was panting, following by more moaning. "Mmmnnnn!"
As if the sound scorched her ear, Cilla jerked back from the door. Licking her lips, she twisted her fingers into her skirts and stared at the door, aghast. Beth enjoyed it? She enjoyed doing that with Tavington? Sweet Lord above! Cilla had felt nothing but humiliation and agony, the one time Bordon had done that to her. It was too much for Cilla to comprehend, she could barely take it in. There was a thumping from within now, it took Cilla a moment to place it. But when she did, she shuddered, realising that the bed was hitting the wall in a telling rhythm. She imagined it was the table in the dungeon, striking the wall as Bordon thrust away on top of her.
"William, deeper, faster!" Beth gasped out, her voice muffled through the door, but quite distinct enough for Cilla to understand the words. That was something Cilla had not said to Bordon! She had wanted him out of her, not in deeper! But Beth… She seemed to welcome it - she encouraged Tavington onward!
"Christ, Beth! Slow down, my love! You'll make me come!" Tavington's voice rumbled through the door.
"No, faster… Faster! Ohhh!"
Deeply disturbed, Cilla stumbled down the hallway toward her own room.
"It's just… I can't imagine how anyone could possibly enjoy it!" Cilla whispered to Emily, who she was sitting with in the shade of a tree outside the house. They had gone off alone, for Cilla couldn't have this conversation with Becky and Sarah present. "But she did. I could hear her. I know I shouldn't have listened, but… I did… and I heard her moaning. Gods, they sounded like… Like Bordon and Miss Jutland!"
Emily nodded, unsurprised. "It might surprise you to hear this, but it can be enjoyable, Cil. Listen, bedding can be a trial, but it's the only way to make children. Therefore, our bodies have… special places… that bring pleasure when touched in a certain way. Coupling can be very pleasurable; we are made in such a way that it's all we can think about at times, men more so than women, but certainly women also. We begin to desperately need it, the pleasure and the relaxed feeling of after. If we didn't have the pleasure, we might not go to the required efforts at all, and babies would not be conceived."
"But you said… you said that with Mr. Wilkins, it never is."
"That's because with me, he doesn't try," Emily said. "With his doxies, he does. They lament his leaving them. Though I did tell him recently that it could be his purse they are grieving," she giggled, feeling quite proud of the things she'd said to James. "That first time I told you about? That hurt, I'm not going to pretend it didn't. It was horrid. At times, I even think it felt like how I'd imagine rape to be. If wasn't rape, of course, for I'd pledged my troth and all… But it's certainly not how I'd expected it to be between us."
"The vows be damned," Cilla said with conviction. "He should not have treated you like that. Yes, you vowed to obey him, to 'pledge him your troth'," she quoted Emily. "But what of his vows? He took a vow to protect you, didn't he? To cherish and love you. He ignored his vows, Emily."
"Yes, I suppose he did," Emily said, staring blindly. "And from what you've said, Bordon has ignored his. But Cil, I want you to know, I think you need to know, that I've known the pleasure of coupling since. It's… indescribable but when you've felt it once, Gods, how you yearn for it all the more. Six months ago, if you'd told Beth she'd throw over all her reticence in order to feel that stupendous pleasure exploding inside of her, she never would have believed it either. But here she is, in her chamber with her husband, this very moment, doing God knows what…" Emily began to giggle, her face flushing red. "Anything she can, I think, to feel it. One day, you will too. That whore next door enjoyed it with Bordon, I know he must be a very capable lover."
"No, I told you, never again," Cilla said, voice harsh and Emily quieted
"I just… I felt much the same as you, afterward," Emily said. "I just want you to know that there's light at the end of the tunnel. It won't feel like this forever. You need not let that awful night disrupt your entire future. That would be horrid, I think. I can't imagine how dark the world would be now, if that first night with James was my only experience. If I had never felt the wonderful pleasures of my body. You said earlier, about Mrs. Farshaw, how you wouldn't wish that beating on your worst enemy? Well, this is what I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. To never feel an orgasm, ever. That would be like denying them to finest tasting wine or food. Or air. It would be like denying them air. If you ever do let yourself feel it, you'll understand, my oath on it."
Cilla was feeling awfully confused. "I still don't understand, though. You said to me that it's never been enjoyable for you with Wilkins. Again just now, you said he doesn't bother. How do you know about these pleasures -" She paused when she saw Emily's face flush red, the other woman looked away, embarrassed. Cilla's voice dropped down to that whisper of astonishment, "Lord, do you mean… was it not with Wilkins?"
"I, well, that is… I -" Emily realised she had indeed told Cilla that she found no enjoyment in bedding her husband. What could she say now? She'd been caught in a lie, and now Cilla knew. Tears sprang to Emily's eyes, she felt truly and utterly caught. Cilla would turn away from her now, she was certain of it. But she knew already, Emily could see it on Cilla's astonished face. "From the day we were married, he's had lovers," she said urgently, trying to get the younger girl to understand. "A slew of them, a constant and steady stream! And he was so brutally awful to me, and he ignored me so often after! Why shouldn't I…" She looked away, breathing deeply, terrified she would no be ostracised.
"Oh my God," Cilla whispered. "Oh my God…"
"Please, try to understand," Emily said, whirling back to Cilla. Surely the lass would, for as certain as the sun rose at dawn, Emily knew Cilla had bedded Bordon back in the city. They hadn't been married or even engaged, not then. She began to confide in Cilla, because of that certainty. "I could've lied just now, but I didn't, I was honest with you. And somehow, Beth knows. What she said earlier? About having other adulteress' among her acquaintance? You got angry because you thought she meant your mother. She didn't, Cil. She meant me. Somehow, she knows. I… Please, Cil, I -"
"You know about my mother and Bordon?" Cilla asked, reeling. "Oh God! I feared you must - the way Sarah and Becky looked at me! How do you all know?"
"Well, the argument was quite loud, I'm told. Many Dragoons heard it. And they told others…"
"Like Captain Wilkins," Cilla groaned. "And he told you."
"That's the only thing we have in accord," Emily said quietly. "We like to gossip."
"Oh my God," despite herself, Cilla barked a laugh. "That is true…" her laughter was short lived. "Does everybody do it, then? Our Reverend speaks against it, our parents and everyone, they all speak against it. But everyone is doing it - having relations outside of wedlock, or committing adultery, even Beth did it with Tavington in your brother's chamber!"
"Did they have relations?" Emily said, her curiosity getting the better of her despite the situation.
"No, no… But they did… things… They shouldn't have done those things even if they were engaged, which they weren't. Beth was engaged to another man entirely! We are taught differently for so long but now I find that everything is turned on its head. Everyone seems to engaging in these activities! I thought it was just the lower sort that would do that sort of thing, like Miss Jutland; but there's my mamma, and Mrs. Tisdale, and Beth, and you. Captain Wilkins has affairs too and Gods, even my own husband!"
Emily cocked her head and frowned, confused. For surely Cilla should be counting herself among the list of people among the higher sort, who'd been… indiscreet… either before marriage or during? Cilla had had relations with Bordon back in the city and was now pregnant, Emily was certain that was why the pair had had to marry. It surprised her now, seeing Cilla look so forlorn and confused about learning of this very old but hidden way of life.
"I don't know what to say," Emily said. "The body wants what it wants. Sometimes it's hard to resist."
Cilla stared at Emily, trying to understand. "But it's sin. And we're supposed to at least try to resist."
"You tell that to the young woman who had such high hopes for a wonderful marriage, only to be… abused," Emily said. "For want of a better word."
"Raped," Cilla whispered and Emily's eyes bulged. "That's the better word. For that's what it is."
"I told you, it can't be rape," Emily whispered uncertainly. "My consent was given the day I said my vows. It was harsh though, how he conducted our consummation. I was hurting and felt so alone, there was no one to talk to about it, not that I even wanted to. I'm shocked I told you, I think the whiskey loosened my tongue. If not for that, I never would have."
"I'm glad you did," Cilla said, for her experience had certainly been no better, and she found solace in knowing that she was not alone.
"Yes, well. As I was saying, you tell that to me three years ago, when James climbed off me and strode from the room in disgust and didn't return to my bed for months after. And then along came Mr. Graham Reed, who was so… lovely," Emily smiled as she remembered. "He knew I was married, he knew precisely what he was doing and we both know he should not have. He seduced me," she laughed, because she could laugh about it now. "The damned rogue. But he showed me, Cil. He showed me what my husband should have showed me, all the pleasure I was missing out on, because of whatever the hell James' problem is, that won't allow him to be a lover to me between the sheets. I knew after Mr. Reed, though and I tell you, I don't even care that it's sin anymore."
"Emily," Cilla breathed, stunned.
"Well, I don't," Emily shrugged. "And you shouldn't either. They say God sends us these hardships to try us, that if we do not give in to temptation, if we do not sin, then we will be allowed into His Kingdom. Well, I gave in to temptation, well and truly, so I guess I am not the type He'll want among His petitioners."
"Em, you should not speak like that," Cilla said, distinctly uncomfortable.
"I'm sorry, but…" Emily trailed off, searching for the words to convey her thoughts.
"What did you mean before, that I shouldn't either?" Cilla asked and Emily paused, she stared at Cilla, held the younger girls gaze.
This was the opening to confront Cilla with the notion that was plaguing her, to get her confirmation. It was on the tip of her tongue. 'Cilla. Did you bed Bordon back in the city. Are you pregnant by him. Is that the true reason you had to marry.' She pulled herself back at the last moment - for knowing the truth would not change anything and would just make Cilla distraught. She didn't want to cause distress to her friend, not when their friendship was blossoming as it was. "Only that you've been dealt the same hand as me. What sort of husbands are Bordon and James to give to young innocent maidens who'd done no wrong their entire lives? Why would God do that to us? And you know, it was only after marrying James that I began to fall. Well, I have fallen now, and to be frank, now that I know how it feels and the solace it brings me… well, Our Lord can only send me to Hell once."
"If you don't do it again," Cilla persisted. "If you repent…"
"I'll repent the day James does," Emily said, voice hard. "I'll stop, the day James does. If neither of us do, I guess we'll continue our torment of each other in Hell, as we are doing here on earth."
"I've never… I've never heard anyone speak like this before," Cilla said.
"You should visit the docks more often," Emily laughed. She gazed at Cilla, who looked away, though thankfully not with derision. She seemed to be trying to come to grips with what Emily had said. Emily gave her a nudge with her elbow. "Do you despise me, Cil?" She asked and Cilla shifted her gaze back to her. "We declared ourselves to be friends, earlier. We both said we thought we'd become closer, now. With our shared misery. Have I ruined it all, in revealing what I have? Because frankly," tears sprang to her eyes. "I think I'll be quite distressed if you do. I don't want to lose you."
"Emily," Cilla sighed, wrapping her fingers around Emily's. "I didn't turn my back on Beth. I'm not going to turn my back on you."
A sobbing gasp of relief burst from Emily's lips. She'd been through so much, having almost lost Calvin, she'd been utterly distressed for days with no one to speak to. Her lover had nearly died and she had been powerless to do anything, she couldn't even go and sit by his bedside or… or anything. She was brittle already; losing Cilla's friendship so soon after it had started to strengthen would have been another blow, one she did not believe she could handle. It was such a wonderful relief, that she did not have to. Perhaps Cilla felt the same? After the unpleasantness with Beth earlier, with Beth declaring that she would continue her friendship with Harmony, and how distressed that made Cilla, perhaps Cilla felt the same as Emily. Emily knew the girl was brittle already too, after her experience with Bordon, and now with the loss of her beloved cousin, who she now had to share with a whore. Perhaps losing Emily so soon after finding common ground was a blow she could not have handled either.
They really did only have each other… She about to say so, when Cilla asked a question that sent all thought flying from Emily's head.
"Em, will you tell me it's supposed to feel like?"
Emily's eyes bulged, her mouth falling open. Just like that, they'd gone from Cilla trying to grapple with the idea that people did actually sin and they enjoyed it, to wanting to know how bedding should truly feel. Emily's smile became dreamy.
"It's like… well, at the start of it, it's like a tingling sensation. That nice tickling feeling you get when you stroke your palm," Emily took hold of Cilla's hand, turned it over, then traced several slow, light circles with the tip of her finger, around and around. "It's nice, isn't it?" She asked and Cilla nodded. Emily let go Cilla's hand. "Think of that, but then imagine it building to something far more intense, and you begin to forget everything - that you're committing sin, or that you might get caught, or… all of it, all your worries begin to recede, because your body wants the feeling it knows is coming, even if you do not. It thrives for it, it takes over completely, what's between your ears," she tapped her temple. "It stops working. All thought, disappears. The sensation is lovely, it's as though you could lie there forever, just feeling it. But then suddenly you need even more, and it intensifies, and then it's a powerful surge, a wave, you feel like you're outside your body in this delirious, delicious place. It feels like it lasts a lifetime but you could probably count to ten, if you had the wherewithal to count at all," Emily giggled. "Believe me, you don't. You can't think, you're just lifted and spun, it rushes through your entire body and it's wonderful. And then, it fades and you're just… calm. Relaxed in a way no bath or good night sleep can relax you. It's euphoria. Sweet, blessed euphoria."
"Oh…" Cilla was frowning. "I can't even imagine something like that."
"Goodness me, no-one can," Emily laughed. "I can't even describe it to you, not truly. You will know what I mean though, if you ever experience it."
"I don't imagine I shall. I am not ever going to bed him, Emily; I meant it."
"Well, I do understand," Emily said though she didn't truly. That Cilla did not want to, that much she understood. But she could not believe that Bordon would never demand his husbandly right from his wife. She just hoped he would show more consideration of her next time, give her the same treatment he clearly gives to Harmony Jutland-Farshaw. Then again, James didn't for Emily, so why would Bordon for Cilla? Was her next time to be as horrid, then? Emily hoped not. Her next time with James wasn't as horrid as their first time. Then again, she'd had a lover in between, she'd known pleasure by then, and hadn't been so frightened of coupling. Maybe that was the key - to not be frightened - maybe then, it won't be so brutal. She glanced at Cilla, ready to suggest it, but the girl's face… No, she wasn't ready to hear that at some stage, she would have to bed her husband again. "I just… I despair for you, Cil. Allow me to put it this way. Every summer, my absolute favourite dessert is raspberries and cream. It's sweet and the way it feels on my tongue and is just… it's delicious. I adore it so much, my kitchen staff make it for me every - single - day. Every day, for all of summer. And when the season for raspberries is over, I have to wait at least eight months, to have it again. I yearn for it. But every summer, I am satisfied. Now, I know you've had raspberries and cream," Emily giggled. "And maybe you love it as much as I do, maybe not. But I just… if I were to imagine you never, ever, in your entire life, having such a delicious treat, while I'm spending the entire summer gobbling it down and enjoying it immensely, I would despair for you. What I'm trying to say is, I know what you're missing out on, and I think if you felt it, then you would know and you wouldn't ever want to miss out on it. I'm not suggesting you bed your husband," she raised her arms up wide, as if in surrender. "I just… I don't want you to go through the rest of your life, without feeling that… joy. It's joy, Cil."
Cilla was quiet for sometime, as was Emily, who was considering whether or not she should suggest to Cilla that perhaps she, too, should take a lover. But that was going too far, so she did not.
"I guess that's what Beth feels," Cilla said finally. "All that you just described. If it's like that, it's no wonder she wants to do those things with Tavington… But… well, you can't miss what you don't know, can you?" She shrugged finally and Emily planted a smile on her face, she nodded false agreement, to make Cilla feel better. "I can't believe you all know about my mother and…" Cilla trailed off. "Gods, I suppose the entire city knows by now. I don't think I could ever show my face there, ever again."
Emily said nothing, she just listened and rubbed Cilla's back.
"And my papa. I suppose you consider him a traitor, but Gods, he believed in what he was doing and now he's dead, Emily. My father is dead. I have no idea where my mother is or if she is alright. I might never see her again and I won't ever see my papa again and everything has just gone… my entire life, it's just…"
"There, there," Emily pulled Cilla closer as the younger girl began to weep.
A hundred miles to the north of Fresh Water, near the border of North Carolina, two very worn and exhausted men rode in to General Harry Burwell's camp of Continentals and Patriot militia, asking directions to the command tent until they were deep enough in camp to see it for themselves. By then, the two men - both in need of a wash and shave, guided their tired horses along the avenues until they finally dismounted and asked a sentry to announce them. The soldier standing duty outside the tent darted inside, leaving the two men outside to wait.
"General," the soldier saluted Burwell, who was bent over a large table, pouring over several maps spread before him.
"Corporal," Harry nodded.
"Two men have arrived requesting an audience. They have named themselves as Mr. Mark Putman and Mr. Nicholas Watson."
Burwell gaped. For several heartbeats, that was all he was capable of. He stared at the Corporal, his eyes almost popping from his head. "He's dead!" He said finally, rounding the table with two long strides. "They are supposed to be dead!" He marched toward the tent flap and threw it wide, and there, standing before him were two very bedraggled men, one of which he recognised.
"Mr. Putman!" He cried, throwing his arms around the plantation owner and would be spy. Having expected an entirely different reception, Mark froze for several moments, before finally returning the embrace. He drew back to stare at Burwell in shock. Harry cried, "Christ it's good to see you! We thought you were dead! That damned Sumter - we thought he killed you!"
"He tried," Mark said ruefully. "And I have the bullet hole to prove it. But I am recovered now and am able to march back into the land of the living."
"I'm glad for it. Come in, come in!" Harry ushered the two in and told the Corporal to bring refreshments. "Ben isn't here, but Christ, he'll be relieved to learn you're alive!"
"Will he?" Mark asked bluntly, lowering his gaze. All of a sudden, he dropped to his knees and in a display of true contrition, began to beg forgiveness. "I never should have told them about Camden!" But they were hurting her - my poor Cilla! What they did to her… Lord… "they tortured me and I broke. I'm so sorry. I broke." He hung his head.
Harry gazed at the former Redcoat gravely, and the youth nodded, confirming what Burwell already knew, what he'd already been told.
"Mr. Putman, get up," Burwell commanded, gripping the man's shoulder to help him to his feet. Even standing, Mark would not meet the General's eyes. "It was Tavington and Bordon, wasn't it?" Burwell asked, his eyes flashing hatred for an instant before he managed to get himself under control. "Mr. Putman, I know what they did to you."
"You don't know," Mark shook his head, Cilla's scream still sliced through his mind.
"They tortured you. I can only imagine what you were forced to endure," Harry said. "I'm certain… I'm certain you held off for as long as you could."
"I did," Mark said desperately. He'd seen Burwell's face begin to close over, his relief at discovering Mark was alive was becoming overshadowed by his betrayal. "I vow, I did. I held out as long as I could. I am so sorry, I…"
Burwell nodded, though he took a step back, feeling the weight of his rank settling upon his shoulders. Torture was… well, it was used to gain information for a reason. Not only did it have the ability to destroy a man's body and his soul, but it broke the victim down in other areas of his life, also. Such as this. Putman had held out as long as he could but the fact remained, he did not hold out long enough. He broke, and as a consequence, Burwell's men died, and what should have been certain victory turned into a crushing defeat. Burwell, his officers, his superiors, would judge Mark Putman by that now, they would find the measure of the man wanting.
That's what torture did. It was a mind game, as well, and it tested everyone who was involved in the victims life. Here was Putman, returned from the dead. But what could Burwell do with him? When he'd already proven his lack of resolve. Burwell knew it wasn't fair to judge a man in this sense, not when he'd been tortured. But he also knew that others would. Not many would want to fight with Putman again, not unless he was able to prove himself.
Then there was the other chilling fact, what Benjamin had revealed to Harry recently. Harry had known that Mark had used his wife and daughter - and Beth as well! - To spy on the British. What Benjamin had recently learned, however, was that Mark had allowed his wife to enter into an affair, to gain that information. And he'd suggested for an innocent woman to be captured by Sumter, told Sumter precisely what he should do with her. What Sumter would have in turn done with Beth, though Burwell doubted Mark would have endorsed that. Still, the seed of the idea had come from Mark Putman. These were tactics Burwell simply could not condone, he'd found his respect for Mark Putman greatly diminished to what it had been six months before. Burwell's joy at seeing Mark withered and now he was left wondering what the hell he was to do with the man. God help him if his men demanded Mark be punished for his betrayal of them. He wished Benjamin was there to counsel him. Or to take Mark Putman off his hands.
"They won't get away with it," Mark said, voice urgent and hard. "I will settle for them both. I am going to kill them for what they did to - to me."
"And if he doesn't, I will," Watson said, speaking up for the first time. "I've fought Tavington once before, I can handle my own against him."
Burwell shifted his gaze to the young man, the former Redcoat who had turned after meeting and falling in love with Beth. He tightened his lips, not quite sure how to deal with the youth who had tried to court Burwell's fiancé. Former fiancé now. Beth was Tavington's wife and though it cut him to the bone, he knew it was time to forget her and move on with his own life. That seemed an impossible task to the General, who felt like he would vomit every time he imagined Beth as Tavington's wife. However, he could not view every single young man as an adversary merely because they had been infatuated with her - especially this one, who'd more than proven his metal and his worth. After everything he'd heard of Watson, Burwell did not find this young fellow wanting, not at all.
"Ensign Watson, is it?" He asked this in a friendly way, nodding at the youth and holding his hand out to shake.
"Just Mr. Watson now, Sir," Nicholas replied, clasping the General's hand. "I no longer hold any rank in the army."
"Well you do in mine, if you want it. I've been told of your accomplishments and bravery by one we both care for. Based on her word, I wouldn't hesitate to take you into my ranks."
"How is Miss Martin, Sir?" Nicholas asked tentatively, and he seemed to be holding his breath as he waited for the answer. Burwell realised that the youth didn't know.
"Married, I'm afraid," Harry replied gravely and Nicholas drew a sharp breath, his eyes bulging. He grunted as though he'd been kicked in the stomach. Burwell continued, "I'm sorry, lad."
"Not to you?" Mark asked. "Who did Ben marry her too?"
Something must have shown on Harry's face, for Mark's grew dark. Thunderous. "Christ, General Burwell. If you tell me my niece has married…" He panted with furiously sharp bursts and Burwell slowly turned to face him, then he inclined his head. His suspicions confirmed, Mark bit off a string of curses and balled his hands into fists.
"I've had more time to become accustomed to terms with it than than the two of you," Burwell murmured. "And even still I find I'm struggling with it. I'd like nothing more than to string that bastard up by his damned balls," he turned his back on the other men and took a few much needed moments to gain control of himself. He could hear laboured breathing behind him, and when he turned back, he locked gazes with Mark once more. Mark's blue eyes, so like his sisters, blazed with a murderous fire.
"She'll be a widow soon enough then," Mark ground out through clenched teeth. "For I will not allow those bastards to live - Tavington and Bordon both. They will die, of this I vow."
"Mark, it's been years since you've held a sword," Burwell said bluntly. "While Tavington is damned near a blade master. You'd best leave this to -"
"The hell I will! I am still a militiaman. I know I betrayed the Cause, but no one can say that I did so lightly. If you'll still have me in your ranks, I'll do it. I'll train with Watson. We'll start training with edged weapons, for I want to cut their guts from their stomachs. I want to hear their screams!" As they made my baby scream! Tears stood in his eyes - tears of rage, tears of grief.
"Very well," Burwell said, relieved at finally knowing what to do with Putman. "When Colonel Martin arrives back, you will be placed in his command. I believe he wants to take a crack at the Butcher himself."
"I want to kill those fucking bastards myself," Mark spat, feeling he had more right.
"An argument you will need to have with Benjamin. Let's see about getting you quartered, and after a rest I'll introduce you to a few others who I believe will be quite interested in seeing you trained for killing those two bastards." They exited the tent."We have tried attacking Camden twice now and both attempts have failed. The second attempt at Camden was as disastrous as the first, this time because of damned Gates - he's a fool and we're still expected to take orders from him, though I'm certain it won't be long now before he is replaced by someone more capable. I damned well hope." He drew a shuddering breath, he shook himself, as if to clear his head. "We have, however, had an ordinate amount of luck lately with our raids against British supply carts and small units of Redcoats. Soon, I doubt they will travel in groups any less than thirty strong, they will be getting too damned scared to. And our numbers are growing by the day. The Lord is shining down on us and he is smiling. Let's get you and the Lieutenant settled."
"Ah, General?" Watson ventured. "Ah, did you say Lieutenant?"
"I did," Harry smiled. "Would that suit you?"
"A promotion! As easy as that?" Nicholas gaped, his eyes darting to Mark's. Mark smiled, pleased to see his young friend being rewarded, but his eyes were still haunted.
"We reward where reward is due," Burwell said, "and we are not nearly as stingy with promotions as is the British Establishment," Burwell slapped the boy on the shoulder, as if the matter was all but settled.
"Thank you Sir!" Nicholas said proudly, his anguish over Beth's marriage momentarily forgotten.
"And thank you, General," Mark added. "For not ordering me to the whipping post."
Burwell nodded. "Come. I'm hungry and need a damned strong whiskey. We've much to discuss; what happened to you after you were shot? The last I heard, you fell into the river and were swept away."
As they stepped from the tent, Mark began to explain - with Watson filling in bits that he had forgotten - what had happened that day in the lumberyard when Sumter's small force betrayed him.
Cilla was in quite a delicate mood the following morning. Melancholy. Beth, sitting across from her in the parlour, noticed that her cousin continually swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, wiping away tears. Perhaps it was her pregnancy playing havoc with her - Beth was not certain and nor could she ask, for she was not supposed to know of the baby at all. Instead, she poured Cilla a cup of tea and handed it to her.
Cilla stared at it for a long moment, before accepting it as the peace offering it was.
"Thank you, Beth," Cilla said. She took a sip. She would not argue with her cousin over that whore again, but nor would she apologise. It was better to simply ignore it - Beth wasn't going to budge from her position and neither was Cilla. They'd make one another miserable, if they didn't at least try to be cordial.
"You are looking a little green, Cilla. Are you unwell?" Beth asked, hoping this was the opening her cousin needed to confide in her.
"I am feeling unwell," Cilla replied. In fact, she'd not been feeling well all morning. She had vomited three times before leaving her chamber. Vickie would have to remove the chamberpot, she would see the vomit and her curiosity would be piked. Well, Cilla had been married for several days now - perhaps the maid will guess that she's pregnant, but it didn't matter now. As long as everyone thought she'd only just fallen pregnant, that was all she cared about.
"Do you need to lay down?" Beth asked, concerned and hovering. Cilla shook her head, then began sipping her tea.
"I'm happy in your father's chair," she said.
Beth nodded and resumed her seat just as Emily and the other girls entered the parlour. Perhaps now hadn't been the best time to encourage Cilla to confide in her after all - they would not have gotten far into the conversation before the other women interrupted them.
"Is it true? Are you hosting a ball for Cornwallis here at Fresh Water?" Rebecca asked Beth excitedly.
"I am," Beth smiled. "Well, William and I are, I should say."
"I knew someone here would," Emily said. "Didn't I say so yesterday, Cil? I didn't know it would be you, Beth. But how wonderful that it is! We don't even have to travel anywhere to attend it!"
"That's if you're invited," Beth said. She smiled, though she was only partly jesting. She was still quite annoyed with the women, for getting up and walking out on her yesterday. Perhaps she shouldn't invite them, it would serve them right, if she didn't.
"Oh, Beth, you're too funny," Sarah gave a little laugh and Beth forced a fixed smile to her lips.
"We should visit Pembroke to see if they have silk," Emily said. "Though I don't know that we'd have time to have new gowns made, I suppose."
"Still, it'd be nice to get away for a bit," Becky said. "We could go and have a look, at the least."
"I have no money," Cilla said. "Not yet, anyway."
"Oh, pooh," Emily waved her hand. "If the mercantile doesn't extend you credit - which I'm almost certain they shall - I will do so myself. Whatever you wish, Cilla; don't even think of it."
"My thanks, Em," Cilla smiled.
Beth glanced back and forth between them - she'd been about to say - and offer, the very same thing, but Emily got in first.
"Is there any word on your brother?" Sarah asked Beth.
"No. Gordon was detached to another unit, I'm hoping that they will return though, with Cornwallis. I'm still so wroth with Samuel for leaving with Gordon in the first place, but hopefully he will be home safe soon."
"I hope so too, travelling with a company of soldiers is no place for a boy," Becky said.
"I couldn't agree more. I think I should warn you about Pembroke - I know you want to visit there but it might not be the diversion you're expecting. Several buildings were on fire when I left there last, I don't know if they were put out or if the mercantile is even still standing. I could ask William, though. He will know. If it is worth visiting, I'll ask him if he can provide us an escort - we won't be going anywhere without his permission…"
"Oh, thank you Beth, that would be grand!" Rebecca gasped, her bright blue eyes bright. After a moment, she gave a self deprecating laugh. "Listen to me, excited over a trip to little Pembroke. Sweet Lord, I must be bored!"
"We've just been gone from Charlestown for too long, that's all," Emily agreed.
"Well, I can tell you right now, without even asking him, that William won't allow us to go all the way there," Beth said.
"Don't worry, I wasn't asking too," Emily said, waving her hand. "I assure you, I'm quite happy here." Mrs. Salisbury had gotten word to her that Calvin wanted to meet her - the only place Emily desired to go to right then, was Mrs. Salisbury's tent; though that would have to wait for nightfall.
"I could tell him my mother is dying, then he'd let us go to the city," Sarah laughed grimly. The other women giggled with equal measures of amusement and outrage.
"You're shocking, Sarah," Emily tittered. "You must want to leave quite badly."
"Oh, just for a few hours!" Sarah groaned, slumping back in her chair. "Pembroke will do. Do you think the Colonel will allow that much, Beth?"
"I'll ask him," Beth promised. "I'm sure he won't mind sparing us an escort for that short trip. It's not far after all and he has the area fairly secure."
"From rebels?" Cilla arched an eyebrow, meeting Beth's eyes. "From your father?"
"He'll never have the area secured from my father," Beth said, sitting tall and proud. "As much as I love William, I'm fairly certain my father could outfox him easily. William is too… Well… British… But you know, I don't think any of us have anything to fear from my father. It's not like he'll attack his own daughter."
"He might try to take you back, given half the chance," Cilla mused. "From what you've said, he hardly approves of this marriage. He'd want to spirit you away from Tavington."
"To what end?" Beth shrugged. "He'd know I'd give him fits about it. No, if my father were going to try and 'free' me from William, he'd have already done so by now."
"How?" Cilla frowned. "You're surrounded by Dragoons here…"
"I told you, my father could outfox them all, if he put his mind to it," Beth said.
"Well you don't have to sound so pleased about that, you know," Emily sniffed. "Your husband is the Colonel of the British Legion, if you recall. I doubt he'd like to hear you speak with such admiration of your father!"
"Even William speaks of my father with admiration, Emily. And disgust, frustration, fury…" Beth laughed. "But he can recognise a good Commander when he sees one and he knows my father is damned good."
"He's a rebel," Emily shook her head, surprised that Beth would speak so openly of her father at all. If she had a family member riding with the rebels, Emily would never speak his name! She'd be too ashamed.
"He's a Patriot," Beth corrected.
"Strange sentiments from a British Officer's wife," Sarah shook her head. "Then again, we've always known you're not a Loyalist. Oh well, if the Colonel doesn't take you to task over it, then nor should we. Besides, weren't we discussing something far more interesting a few moments ago..? Oh, yes, I have it now. Pembroke!"
"I'll ask William," Beth laughed softly. "As soon as I get back. He's busy at the moment, but I'm sure he'll be free before I return."
"You're going somewhere?" Cilla asked sharply. "Where?"
"To the Ferguson's," Beth said, preparing herself to show defiance.
"Is that so?" Cilla asked. The other three women were deathly silent as Cilla glared at Beth.
"Yes." Beth's heart began to pound, the vision of all four women suddenly rising and going for another 'walk' without her flared and she balked. Her defiance disappeared and she found herself murmuring, "I need to visit General O'Hara. I'm going there to see him."
"Of course you are," Cilla snapped, immediately furious; she ignored Emily's reassuring hand as it alighted on her own. "Do make sure you say hello to Harmony the Whore from the rest of us, now, won't you?"
"Cilla!" Beth cried, shocked to her stomach. "That's a horrid thing to say!"
Cilla waved her arm in an airy gesture, indicating that she did not care. "If you'd rather spend yet another morning with her instead of me, then just go."
"I'm getting rather tired of this," Beth snapped, surging to her feet. "I don't need this, not from any of you!"
"You clearly don't need our company, either," Cilla said and Beth stared in utter disbelief. "It's been months since we've seen one another. Months since we've spent any length of time together. Yet you spent half of yesterday with that whore, the other half with your husband. You've shown no interest so far in spending time with me, whatsoever.
"When you get up and walk out of the room, shunning me to teach me a lesson, no, Cilla. I don't," Beth replied. With a swirl of her skirts, she turned and made for the door. Filled with fury, Beth slammed the door shut behind her.
"Beth!" Richard, a little puffed from running, darted toward her. He'd arrived back from scouting an hour ago and had already written a letter, which he intended to have someone carry over to Harmony. Hearing Beth was going there now, he intercepted her in the hall as Beth pulled on her cape.
"Are you going to see Harmony?" He asked intently.
"Yes, I am," she said warily.
"Will you give her this?" Richard held out a sealed letter. Beth stared down at the letter as though it were a live adder.
"Oh, Richard…" She sighed, forlorn. "I can't pass on letters from you along to Harmony! You're my cousin's husband!"
"Please, Beth," his begged. "Please… I'm not asking her to meet me or anything. I just… It's just a letter… Please…"
"Hell's teeth," she swore, snatching the letter from his fingers and stalking from the house.
"Thank you!" He called behind her as she marched off the porch and threw herself into the waiting carriage.
Beth fumed all the way to the Ferguson House, and was still angry when she was sitting on Harmony's bed in the small chamber.
"It's just that he's placing me in such an awkward position!" She complained to Harmony who was sitting across from her. Both girls were seated comfortably with their shoes off and their legs curled up beneath them. Harmony was staring down at the letter, reading with a small, sad smile on her face. "He should ask Brownlow to deliver letters, not me! I know this is excruciating for you both and I have always been willing to help bring you together in any way I can but it's complicated now!"
"Yes, on account of your cousin…" Harmony curled her lip. "How is Mrs. Prim and Pregnant, by the way?"
Beth made a small, grumbling noise beneath her breath.
"Very unhappy, as it happens," she answered as though Harmony had asked out of true concern, rather than obvious sarcasm. "And she's been sick, as well, though I don't think I'm supposed to know that. What of you, Harm? Have you been getting sick in the mornings, too?"
"No, not at all," Harmony lifted her head, she was wearing a small, satisfied smile on her face. "I'm made of sturdier stuff it seems, than little Miss Papa's Girl."
Beth drew a deep, long suffering breath.
"I am pleased you're not suffering the sickness," Beth said, ignoring the jibe. Her voice was rather strained, however. "And Farshaw? How is he treating you?"
"Indifferently," Harmony shrugged. "I think he is going to start visiting this mistress of his again, now he's better."
"How do you know?"
"He took a bath and got out his best shirt," Harmony laughed. "Whoever she is, I hope she manages to hold his attention. I'd hate for him get bored of her and start wanting it from me again."
"Yes, I can see how you would feel that way," Beth laughed grimly. "What does Richard say in his letter? He promised he was not trying to set up a secret meeting with you…"
"He wasn't lying to you. He speaks of how sad he is, that he can't be with me. And how sorry he is, as well. For everything that's happened. He hopes I'm alright," Harmony began folding the letter, which she slipped into her pocket. "The poor thing, he's asking me if I still love him, and if I still think of him as much as he does me. As if I could ever stop. My poor Richard… Beth, will you carry a letter back to him, from me? I need to reassure him that I'll love him until the day I die. Even if I do still want to punch him in his damned nose for marrying that damned chit."
"I'll carry the letter," Beth said, stiffening. "But if I'm going to start doing this, Harmony, you need to do me a favour in return."
"Anything," Harmony vowed. "What is it?"
"Stop saying horrible things about my cousin," Beth snapped, folding her arms across her chest. "If you can't say anything nice about her, then just don't speak of her at all. Call her by her name, not by 'that damned chit', or 'Papa's Girl' and the other things you keep calling her. I understand why you do it, but if you want me to do this, well, that's my price."
"Alright," Harmony said, somewhat stiffly. "I will. Now, how will you stop her from calling me 'whore' and the other horrible things she says about me?"
Beth arched an eyebrow, wondering how Harmony knew of the way Cilla spoke of her. At length she said, "Unfortunately, I have no leverage to influence her -"
Harmony barked a bitter laugh.
"But!" Beth held up a finger to forestall her. "But, I defend you to her, Harmony. I don't sit by idly when she and Mrs. Wilkins start in on you, I swear it."
"I know you don't," Harmony smiled fondly and reached out to take hold of Beth's hand. "You've always been a good friend to me, Beth. I know you'd fight for me with your dying breath. I'm sorry I've made you uncomfortable, I just haven't been able to help myself. She has my man, Goddamn it!" She drew a sharp breath, closed her eyes, and sought for calm. "But I am sorry I've put you in that position and I promise not to continue."
"Thank you. Write your letter then, Harm. I wish to have a word with the General, I'll be back soon and I'll carry your letter to Richard when I leave."
"What do you need to speak to O'Hara for?" Harmony frowned as Beth climbed off the bed.
"It would be bad form for the wife of the Colonel to not call in on the General, when she visits the house in which he is billeted," Beth explained. "Also, I wish to ask him about Cornwallis' tastes and requirements, for the ball we're having at Fresh Water."
"Oh," Harmony's frown deepened. "Will Richard be going to this ball?"
"I would imagine so," Beth said, heaving a sigh.
"I wonder if he will dance with her."
"I'll be back soon, Harm," Beth said, not wanting to discuss how Richard might pass the ball with his wife. "You better get too writing, for I don't think I'll be long."
The lowly Farshaw's were only allowed their small chamber in the Ferguson house because O'Hara wished to keep a keen eye on them. To be on hand to stop it, if Calvin began beating Harmony. To make sure Harmony could not slip away to be with Richard. Otherwise, they'd be sleeping in a tent in camp, with all the other junior officers and soldiers of the inferior ranks. The small room had become Harmony's home these last few days and right now, the bed needed to be made. Calvin's worthless junk had to be picked up from the floor and other places he'd scattered his mess around the chamber. Pushing her hair back behind her ear, Harmony began her morning task of tidying. She worked by rote, as she did every day, trying not to think, not to feel. Gripping the layers of blankets, she hauled them up and smoothed them out, then positioned the pillows just so. It still hurt to move, her face was still a mess of bruises, but she made the effort, if only for herself. Even if she was at deaths door, Harmony would still like her room to be nice and tidy.
Beth would come by to visit again today, Harmony was determined to keep her end of the bargain, she would not say a single bad thing about Cilla if she had to chew her own tongue out. The best way of accomplishing this, she decided, was simply by not speaking of Cilla at all. It had not been easy for Beth, she knew, hearing all the terrible things Harmony said about Richard's new wife. But Harmony had been unable to help herself - she was heartily sick of privileged, affluent women always having their way, always getting everything that Harmony tried so hard not to want. It was impossible, trying not to want Richard, but he was yet another thing denied to her, yet another thing taken by a woman of money. With the exception of Beth, Harmony decided she absolutely despised noblewomen.
The various bottles and bowls, shaving implements and the like were pushed to one far corner of the small table, which Harmony proceeded to wipe with a damp cloth. Everything was put back in where they belonged - tidily this time; and she moved onto her next task, cleaning out her chest in order to place her folded, clean washing inside in an orderly fashion. When she was living at Fresh Water, a servant had conducted these tasks for her. Back when she was able to share Richard's bed. Now, everything was freshly laundered by her own hands - not the servants she had become accustomed to. The Farshaw's would never be able to afford to keep servants. Reaching into a small panel in the wall of the chest, Harmony felt to make certain the money she'd saved was still there - that Calvin had not discovered it. She had earned that money herself, while working at The Mighty George back in the city. If only she was still there; her life had been far less gut wrenchingly painful when she was nothing but a barmaid. Reassured that her cash was still safe, she closed the panel, and then pulled down the chest lid. It was astounding how Calvin could even function during the day, considering the state he put himself in each night. When he deigned to return after screwing his mistress, who ever she might be. Harmony wished she knew who the woman was, she would have liked to send her some flowers or a trinket of some sort, to show her gratitude. For while this woman was pleasing Calvin, he was not forcing himself on her.
Hearing a gentle knock, Harmony glanced over her shoulder at the door. A moment later, it opened and a particularly large Redcoat filled the door way.
"Mrs. Farshaw, Mrs. Merry is here to see you."
"Oh! Thank you," Harmony said. The soldier stepped aside and Linda walked into the room, closing the door behind her.
"Linda!" Harmony squealed, rushing over and throwing her arms around her friend.
"Shh, it's Mrs. Merry, remember?" Linda said. "Lord, are you alright?" This was the first time Linda had seen Harmony since her husband beat her so horrendously. "You look awful."
"I'm still very sore," Harmony said. "But so is he," she said vengefully.
"I've heard some of it already, but tell me what happened," Linda said as she guided Harmony to sit with her on the side of the bed. Harmony told her everything that had happened since Calvin learned of her resumed affair with Bordon, she wept as she spoke of his rough coupling with her against the tree and the blows that landed all over her head and body, everywhere except her stomach. Her voice became vengeful again, when she spoke of the beating he'd received, as Bordon and several other soldiers did they best to try to kill him.
"How's it been since?" Linda asked solemnly.
"Oh, we hardly speak to each other now. As soon as he was well enough, Major Fallows set him to work scribing. At night, he visits his mistress and leaves me alone. I'm left to my own devices more often than not, I don't like to go out of this room much though, because of," her fingers touched her bruises. "It's embarrassing, everyone keeps staring at me. Besides, I'd rather stay in here, I just want to be alone. Did you hear about Richard?"
"Marrying that fuckin' chit's cousin?" Linda asked. "Yes."
Harmony shifted with discomfort, Linda couldn't speak about Beth without being vile. Beth was Harmony's friend, it wasn't easy to hear Linda say such horrid things about her.
Linda closed her eyes and drew a deep, fortifying breath. In a desolate voice, she said, "God, I miss him so much."
"I know," Harmony wrapped her fingers over Linda's.
Linda met Harmony's gaze, her eyes filling and becoming blurry. "He said we'd be together, Harm. He promised it - that I'd still be his mistress, even after he married her. He broke his promise, Harm." She sniffled and Harmony, sighing heavily, pulled Linda into her arms. It wasn't the first time she'd had to console Linda thus, after learning the woman was back in camp.
"Damned fucking bitch," Linda whispered, voice muffled against Harmony's shoulder. "I hate her, she thinks she's so damned good but she's not, she's no better than Emily Wilkins if you ask me, walkin' about with her nose in the air," Linda lowered her head. "And she's so damned pretty."
"She's not like that," Harmony defended softly. She'd tried to defend Beth on previous occasions, to no avail. Still, guilt made her try again. "Beth is a good person. She just happened to fall in love with the same man as you, that's all."
"And she caught him," Linda spat. "Used her fucking pretty youth and her innocence, with all those courtly manners of hers, she hooked him then reeled him in! After all that rubbish she put him through, he goes running to her? Fuck her. Damned whore in silks is what she is. She's no better than me, no matter what she thinks."
Harmony sighed again. It seemed Linda would not be convinced that Beth was a decent person - her jealousy wouldn't allow it. It was difficult for Harmony to hear it though, she loved Beth dearly and if she was completely honest with herself, she realised there was probably a closer affinity between herself and Beth than there was between herself and Linda. She despised hearing such awful things about her closest friend. Harmony eyes widened at this thought, for it served as a sudden revelation. For hadn't she been doing this exact same this to Beth? She had been unable to say anything but the most vile things about Cilla… It was exactly the same thing, for she knew Cilla no better than Linda knew Beth.
"I was always going to be second to her, but I never thought I'd be nothing. Sending me off to live with that Loyalist family. They were nice enough but Gods, how could he do the to me? After all his promises! At least I get to see him most days, even if he doesn't know I'm here."
"Linda," Harmony said, exasperated. "You can't live your life for him. You've got a baby coming and a fellow who will marry you. You should marry Private Cox, use the money William gives you as a dowry. It'll be a good start for you. If you wait for William, you'll be waiting until there is grey in your hair and you're too old to walk without a cane."
"William," Linda said, focusing on this and ignoring the rest. She arched an eyebrow. "I can't believe how close the two of you are now."
"We are close," Harmony agree. Her face became pallid and she stared past Linda, eyes haunted.
"I know you've been having a hell of a time lately," Linda commiserated. "That husband of yours, what a bastard. It's a pity he's such a nasty thing, he'd be quite handsome if not for that."
"He's a damned rotten, filthy, little bastard," Harmony spat softly.
"Don't hold back now," Linda laughed eventually. Harmony's eyes had become hard blue chips of ice. "Harm?" Linda asked carefully and the other girl's eyes focused. Harmony shook herself from her daze.
"I'm alright. It's just… as you say… A hell of a time…"
"Hell's teeth, it sounds like it," Linda commiserated. "And your baby… Lord, you've done so much to protect it… I understand it though, I think I'd have done the same," she took hold of Harmony's hand and studied the pink slash across the palm. "That was brave…"
"I don't know," Harmony shrugged. "Maybe."
"It was. Well, it's all healed now, and that drunken sot is none the wiser, thanks to your quick thinking. Feigning your menses…" Linda trailed off, it never ceased to amaze her, the lengths Harmony had gone to to protect her baby.
"I did what I had to do," Harmony shrugged. "Are you hungry, Linda? We could go out to the kitchen, get something to eat and drink."
"I'd like that," Linda smiled. She rose and held her hands out to Harmony, who laughed softly and let Linda pull her up off the bed.