Chapter 103 - Not one to Judge:
Richard closed his bed chamber door behind him. Cilla was standing with her back to him at the window; though there was nothing left to see, Beth and Banastre were no longer in view. Richard lowered himself to the small table and dropped his head to his hands.
"I told Mrs. Ambrose that Beth has gone to her sister after receiving word that she is sick. Word will spread from there, everyone will believe Miss Margaret has taken ill and Beth has gone to sit by her bedside."
"You don't even know where her sister is," Cilla said. Her arms were folded, her back ramrod straight. She did not turn to look at him. "You should have stopped him from beating her," Cilla said.
He laughed softly. "Stop my Commander from beating his wife for bedding another man and not telling him before marrying him. Yes, I would have every right to stop him."
"There is no need for sarcasm," she snapped.
"I think I'm under quite enough strain without you adding accusations to it! She is his wife, I have no right to interfere."
"You interfered readily enough in Farshaw's marriage," Cilla shot back, whirling to face him. "You felt you had the right to, with them!"
"That's completely different and you know it."
"Two husbands have beaten their wives for roughly the same transgression," Cilla said, rounding on him. "When it's Tavington, you ignore it. Yet Farshaw had to be visited by doctors, after you were through with him! You're always making the rules up as you go along!"
"The differences are night and day," Richard argued. "Tavington used his belt on her backside, which is a punishment administered to children, for crying out loud!"
"Not the way he did it!"
"While Farshaw beat Harmony black and blue, until she could barely walk or talk, one eye was almost swollen shut! He kicked her repeatedly; her ribs, her legs, he was not at all discerning where, as long as his boot connected and it caused her agony, that was all he cared about! Besides, Farshaw was in my command, whereas I am in Tavington's!"
"And you're in love with Harmony," Cilla spat. "Let's not forget that ulterior motive. With that comes a whole level of protection my cousin can never anticipate from you, despite how you call her friend!"
"I'm not bothering to discuss this further with you," Richard heaved a breath. "You're not going to listen to reason any more than Beth was going to earlier. I tried to tell William not to bother," he shook his head. "To wait until she calmed down."
"So that's what you'll do with me?" She challenged. "Wait until I've calmed down?"
"If you need to shout at someone, then fine. Shout away. It's not going to change a damned thing though, Cilla."
"She was never going to stay," Cilla said, throwing her arms wide. "There was never going to be some conversation between them that would sort this whole sordid affair and result in them having a lovely afternoon and a nightcap before bed! He had an affair! She's so furious she doesn't even care that he knows about her and Banastre now."
"Did you know about her and Banastre?" Richard asked, incredulous.
"I suspected, I knew nothing for certain. What difference does it make? She's gone, I doubt she's ever going to come back," Cilla began her tirade with righteous fury but this last was choked out on a sob. "Half the reason I could accept marrying you was because she was here. She was my only reason for being here and now she's gone and he has gone and they've all gone and Gods, I have nobody!" She turned back to the window, her hand over her mouth, fingers wiping her eyes as she cried.
"Jesus," Bordon pushed the chair back as he rose from the table. Though her words had stung, he crossed the room and placed one hand on her back, uncertain how she would receive the gesture. With revulsion? Or solace? She stiffened but did not jerk away from him. She was so damned stiff though. Still; like a marble statue. He did not rub her shoulders or take her into his arms as he would have Harmony, he just rested his hand on her back, awkward and as still as the grave. She accepted the handkerchief he was holding out to her and began dabbing her eyes.
At length, she stepped away from him and he let his hand fall to his side.
"I'm sorry, I just…" Cilla whispered. "I wish she wasn't gone. And I wish, I really, really wish, he hadn't beat her. That was just so… awful."
"I can understand - you must have found it very distressing," Richard sat on the edge of their bed, gazing up at her. "I am sorry I did not resolve the situation the way you would have liked me to. There was not a hell of a lot I could do - not against Tavington. Maybe if he wasn't my superior, I would have handled it differently. Maybe if she hadn't… Gods, what was she thinking, giving herself to another man and then marrying William without even telling him?"
"Don't you judge her," Cilla warned. "You've done far worse than Beth has ever done -"
"I know, I know," he held his hands wide, as if in surrender.
"And so has Tavington," Cilla bit out. "Because he never even punished you for it. You force yourself on me and you get nothing, yet Beth wrongs him and he belts her for it. Neither of you are worthy judges of a woman's character."
"I'm not for one moment suggesting I am worthy of anything at all. I'm just saying that what she did was… Provoking…" Richard said, his hands still wide.
"What he did was provoking, also," she said.
"Yes, and I'd very much like to get to the bottom of that," Richard took a hold of her arm and gently tugged. "Will you sit down? You're craning my neck."
"You're craning your own neck," she said, though she allowed him to pull her down to sit beside him.
"I'm not judging her for it, Cilla. As you say, I've done far worse things and I did those things to you. How can I possibly cast judgement on Beth, while looking you in the eye?"
"You can't," she replied, lowering her eyes to the floor.
"Cilla, I… We've been married for long enough now, you've gotten to know me a little, I'm sure. Enough for you to know I'm not a monster. At the time I… Gods, how do I say this," he shook his head and closed his eyes, as if trying to find the right words. He opened his eyes again. "I felt… Vindicated. That I was doing the right thing. I was so filled with rage and I just… I took all of it out on you, an innocent. Except for spying on Brownlow and Dalton, you were innocent and I know that now, I know you did not deserve what I did to you -"
"You're apologising to me?" She asked incredulously, shocked to her core.
"I am. Well, I am trying…" he said. "I can not tell you… Words can not express… how ardently sorry I am, Cilla."
"It means nothing to me," she said, shaking her head. "Your words, they mean nothing to me, no more than the braying of a donkey!"
"Cilla!" Richard gasped, offended.
"What you did - it is not something that can be forgiven!"
"I know. But it is something I can be sorry for doing," he said softly. "I can be remorseful, I am remorseful. Every day… lately, I mean. I wasn't at first. For so long, I wasn't sorry. And I'm sorry for that, too. For I should have fallen at your feet and begged forgiveness from the first moment. I never should have done it in the first place. I just… I'm so sorry."
Cilla rose and went to stand before the window again, arms folded across her chest. He stared at her back, watched her as she struggled with his apology.
"I'd hoped…" he began, feeling every bit the fool. "That if I said the words… that if I told you how sorry I am… perhaps it will bring you some solace."
"Solace," she said, and he saw her wiping her eyes. She'd begun weeping again, though quietly enough that he hadn't noticed with her back to him. "I do not want to hear an apology, for no mere words could ever encompass, or amend, the horrors you put me through."
"I know," he said wretchedly. "You have to live with what I did to you. And I have to live with the remorse."
"You locked us in that dungeon, Richard. And we're never getting out."
He blew out a long, slow breath. They were both silent, Richard didn't know how long for. As he sat there on the bed, he thought how this was the first time she'd ever called him by his name. Richard. He couldn't think of why that mattered but to him, it did. He stared at her back, noticed that her shoulders had stopped shaking some time ago, she'd stopped dabbing at her eyes. She was no longer crying.
"Will you come and sit with me, Cilla?" He asked, not taking hold of her to guide her down to the bed as he had earlier. Her shoulders slumped and she turned back without meeting his gaze, she lowered herself to the bed beside him. She lifted her head to the ceiling and closed her eyes.
"We're discussing Beth and Tavington, not what you did to me. I don't want to talk about what you did to me."
"Alright," he said, a little disappointed to lose this opportunity to continue his apology. Cilla was calming down, she was even sitting on the bed next to him, not quite touching but only inches separating them. Anyone seeing them would almost call it companionable, their nearness. But no, now was not the time to push her, just because he was feeling the need. Perhaps one day she would warm to him, but that would not be today.
"Can you please tell me what happened down there? Beth said Miss Cordell told her that Linda is bedding Tavington. I honestly… I can't imagine that he is - he would not keep something like that from me, especially when…" he paused and glanced at her, then changed what he had been about to say. "Especially when we're such good friends."
"Oh, Richard, how stupid do you think I am?" She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I know that you are bedding Mrs. Farshaw and I know that Tavington knows - and that Beth knows. I have spoken to her about it, so don't pretend she didn't. Tavington is keeping it all secret for you… that's why you'd expect him to confide in you - because he knows you're doing the same."
"Oh," Richard hung his head, feeling like the naughty boy who was finally caught stealing a cherry pie. Should he apologise to his wife for having an affair, when he was not sorry? Should he deny it? Or vow to never let it happen again? All would be lies. Better just to move on - no point discussing this, either. "What happened down in the camp?"
Cilla told him. From drinking tea with Mrs. Andrews, to Miss Cordell joining them, to their parting. "I saw him first," she said and continued on, describing the scene she'd witnessed. Of Tavington stopping before a camp follower, of Cilla's astonishment as she recognised the woman as Linda Stokes. As a clearly pregnant Linda hugging and kissing him, right there in front of everyone and no one was even slightly surprised. Of Linda taking Tavington's hand and leading him to the tent. "She glanced our way, and she saw Beth. The look in Miss Stoke's face - she was like the cat who ate the cream. She wore such a smirk and then she shrugged, like she just didn't care. And then they were in the tent…" Richard was frowning, shocked by the account Cilla was giving. She continued, telling him of Beth confronting Mrs. Andrews and Miss Cordell, the former denied that Tavington and Linda were dallying, but the latter… "Miss Cordell said that when he found out Miss Stokes was back in camp, the affair didn't start straight away. But at some point it did begin again. Miss Cordell said he started visiting several times a week, for several hours, and that Miss Stokes confided to her that he had finally returned to her bed."
"Dear God," Richard sighed. He dropped back onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. "Perhaps he was embarrassed, maybe that's why he didn't tell me," he said. "Tarleton, Hanger and Whitty lit into him when they found out he'd bought Linda along to be his mistress. He was scraping the bottom of the barrel, they said. You don't take a doxy and make her a mistress, because while you've elevated her slightly, in doing so you're lowering yourself. You take women other men can be jealous of, they said."
"Colonel Tarleton said that, did he?" Cilla asked, surprised and somewhat pleased. "That he would only ever choose a woman that other men would be jealous of?"
"The men would be jealous of the man for having her, not of the woman herself," Richard said. Cilla realised he thought he was correcting her when in fact, she quite understood. She also understood that Banastre had chosen her, and she began to feel warm inside. Richard continued, "not one they've all already had for the price of a couple pennies."
"Is that what Mrs. Farshaw is? A mistress to make other men jealous?" Cilla asked, arching an eyebrow down at her husband.
"Harmony is not a trophy," Richard said. "I am in love with her, Cilla. I will not flash her about like some pretty new jewel I bought."
"Good," she said shortly. "You must be absolutely discreet, if we're not to end up in the same scandal Beth and Tavington find themselves in."
"You really don't care, do you?" He asked, pushing up and sitting beside her again.
"So long as you're in her bed, you're not in mine," she shrugged.
"Cilla…" he trailed off, shaking his head. He was about to remind her that one day they would need to bed one another if they were to have a child, but abandoned it for now. Instead, he said, "Harmony said the same, when she realised Farshaw was having an affair. She said that as long as he is in that other woman's bed, he wouldn't be plaguing her to do her duty. That is how much she despised him, how little she wanted to do with him." He paused, turned to her, met her gaze. "Is that how you feel about me?"
"Yes," she replied, gaze unblinking. He stared back gravely.
"She sees him as a monster," he said. "And I guess you see me the same." She said nothing, made no empty reassurances to the contrary. "I can expect no less," he wrapped his fingers over her cold hand. "But Cilla, there is one glaring difference between me and Farshaw."
"And what is that?"
"I - am - sorry," he said each word crisply, holding her eyes, hoping she would read the truth there. "And I am capable of being sorry." He added. "I will never hurt you again." He gave her unresponsive hand a squeeze. "Just one time, Cilla. Just once."
"And if the baby doesn't take?" She asked, knowing exactly what he was speaking of.
"Then once more," he shrugged. "One time, once a month after each bleeding, until your belly quickens. Just think on it, would you?" She closed her eyes, blew out a slow breath.
There was a knock on the door and at Richard's answer, Dalton entered. Cilla and Richard were seated on the bed as Dalton walked across the chamber to address them. While Dalton sketched a bow for Cilla, his eyes flickered to their joined hands, Cilla pulled her fingers away and placed her hands in her lap.
"Sir, Tavington has ridden out with the Dragoons."
"To where?" Richard asked, seeing Cilla's frantic gaze. She feared Tavington was chasing Beth down to drag her back, after all.
"Scouting," Dalton replied. "He said he does not know when he will return. He said you have the command."
"Very good. Thank you, Ensign," Richard said and the Officer withdrew.
"Scouting… Do you think he's gone after her?" Cilla voiced her fears.
"No. I think he is letting off steam. The mood he's in, you'd better pray for your rebels, wife," as he rose, he groaned, as if his body pained him.
Beth had held Banastre's arm all the way down the service stairs, but she released it before they reached the door below. Lifting her chin, her expression became stone as they stepped outside. There, many of the dislodged servants were waiting to be allowed back into the house.
"Mrs. Tavington," Mrs. Ambrose rushed forward. "I'm so sorry to hear about Miss Margaret. If there is anything I can do…"
Beth wanted to shout at the woman, the cook who'd served her family for decades. She wanted to scream that William had had an affair, that she was leaving because her husband was an adulterer, and that her sister was perfectly fine and the swiftness with which Richard had thought up that excuse for her departure was proof at how well those two were at covering for their misdeeds.
"I have taken medicines," she said instead. "I will tend her myself. All will be well, Mrs. Ambrose, please don't fret for Miss Margaret."
"But… He said it is the yellow fever," Mrs. Ambrose said.
"I don't think the symptoms match," Beth replied. She needed to leave but did not want her staff worrying unnecessarily. "I will send word back to let you know. I really must be on my way, if you'll excuse me?" Beth continued to walk onward, agony she did not show flared with every stride.
Banastre did not feel that was explanation enough. Why would he escort her, and not her husband? It was, therefore, how the Colonel of Tarleton's Legion, the son of a prominent and very wealthy merchant, who would never condescend to explaining himself to servants, prepared to do exactly that now. For, Mrs. Ambrose and the others would repeat his words and before long, people far and wide would believe his explanation as though it were truth.
"Lord Cornwallis' summons was quite timely, it seems. I am to attend him up north. By Colonel Tavington's request, I shall escort Mrs. Tavington to her sister's bedside. It is along the way and will only be a short aside from my journey," he glanced at Beth, who glanced back at him, startled. He made a gesture and at length, she nodded.
"Yes, indeed he did. And time is of the essence," she added, a pointed reminder to Banastre to get on with it.
Banastre began to walk Beth through them, he nodded grave thanks when he was hailed as a Gentleman, for offering to escort Beth to her family who needed her. A general murmuring erupted behind him, as the servants began expressing their worry and fear for the small, sweet child. It would be that story that was spread across the countryside, not the truth of the Tavington's marital disruption. In order to keep Beth and his own name clear of the mud, Banastre was forced to keep William's name clean also. It was a small price to pay.
In the stable, Shadow Dancer was saddled and the bags Mila had packed were strapped on. The mare pawed at the ground with her hooves, excited when she saw Beth. Shadow Dancers would be able to run now, and she quivered with the wanting. Beth stroked the mares nose absently. Banastre was still at her side, he had not let go of her on the walk from the house.
"I can't," she said, glancing up at him. "The saddle. I can't… It's going to hurt so much… Can't we go by carriage?"
"It will only slow us down," he told her, commiserating. He kissed her brow. "A carriage will take an age to travel, I need to cover as much ground today as possible, if I want to reach Cornwallis by tomorrow. I know it will be hard on you but I vow, when we stop for the night," he tilted her chin up to him when she looked away, "I'll rub a salve into those weals. But for now… we must go." Beth sighed and glanced away.
Banastre helped her to mount, she hissed and gasped as soon as her rump contacted with the saddle, and she leaned forward as far over Shadow Dancers neck as she could, changing her usual seat in the saddle as much as possible to keep her bottom from contacting as little as possible. Banastre kept his horse near to hers, keeping a close eye on her in case she faltered. Her every wince cut through him like a scythe. He led the way from the stable to the corral, where the horses of his Dragoon escort were kept. His Dragoons were mounting, having received the command to leave immediately.
"I'm so sorry, Harmony," Richard rubbed his beloved's back as she wept. It had not been a pleasant interview, and it had been with great reluctance that Richard informed Harmony of the end to her friendship with Beth. Harmony stood by the fire, one hand clutching the mantle for support, while Richard stood behind her, rubbing her back.
"I knew..." She whispered between sobs. "I knew... It was wrong... Should have told... False friend she calls me... I never should have listened to you!"
"Harmony," Richard's hand stilled, he stared at her, startled by the venom in her voice. She was weeping, yes, but he realised now that half her tears were of frustration and fury, not only of grief.
"I should never have!" She cried, spinning to face him. "How could you put me in that position? I told you and William both, from the start, that it was a mistake. That Beth should be told that Linda was in camp. I told you that, yet I'm the one who is blamed!"
"I know," he sighed.
"And did you listen? No. Did William? And no Beth calls me false friend and I will never see her again! She hates me, because she thinks William had an affair and that I helped to keep it secret from her! Oh, why did I listen to you? Why did I let you rope me into this! And now she's gone and I can't even speak to her, I can't tell her my side, I can't ask she forgive me! I can't tell her I'm not a false friend, I can't -" She choked off and buried her face in her hands. Richard sighed and when he pulled her close again, she did not pull away.
"I'm sorry," he said, whispering it in her ear. He wrapped his strong arms around her and rested his chin on her head. The two stood there, by the fire. At length, Harmony put her arms around Richard's hips, needing to envelop herself in his nearness.
"How badly did he beat her?" Harmony asked, raising her head to his. He thumbed away her tears.
"A strapping with his belt," Richard said. "She won't be sitting comfortably for a few days, to be sure. But it was nothing like what Farshaw did to you. In truth, considering what she'd just revealed to him, I think William showed restraint."
"You think he should have beaten her worse?" She asked incredulously.
"No, that's not what I mean. And no, I am not judging her, before you accuse me," he said, recalling his conversation with Cilla. "It's just… She bedded another man and did not tell William - she married him, with him thinking she was a virgin. Lord, I was shocked when she told him, I can't imagine what he was feeling. Knowing him as I do, I am surprised he did not do worse to her. She should not have kept that secret, she should have told him, when I gave them the opportunity to reveal all, during the ceremony."
"Yes, that was the perfect time," Harmony scoffed. "How could she have told William, Richard? How could she have looked him in the eye and told him she'd been with another man? He'd have gone mad. Lord, he did go mad! She did not want to risk losing him, that's why she never told him. He would not have married her. She went through pure hell before they were together again, she was at her lowest and then Tarleton swoops in, gets her howling drunk, shows her a magnificent time and when she - in a moment of very soused weakness - offers more than she should have, he accepts it greedily. He took more from her than he should have - he's the older, the wiser, he's far more worldly than she is! "
Richard frowned down at Harmony, surprised by how knowledgeable she was regarding the more intimate details. His eyes widened, eyebrows climbing his forehead.
"You knew!" He accused, stunned.
"Of course I bloody did," Harmony snorted. "Beth isn't only my closest friend, Richard. I am hers, too. We had no secrets, none at all. Well, except Linda being in camp, a secret I never wanted to keep from her! Are you sure they were having an affair? Linda keeps telling me how frustrated she is, that he doesn't bed her when he visits her. Surely she'd tell me. Gods, she'd have been crowing about it from the rooftops!"
"She was; well, she told Miss Cordell at least."
"Miss Cordell? That makes no sense. Why wouldn't she tell me, as well? Richard, are you certain Beth had the right of it? I just…" Harmony shrugged. "The more I think about it… William wouldn't keep such a secret from you and God knows, Linda is more the type to boast of it, than conceal it. Do you remember how quickly she revealed it to Mrs. Salisbury?"
"I do remember," Richard frowned.
"And that was just to escape her workload…" Harmony said. "If they were having an affair again, she'd be even more compelled to reveal it now, to save face."
"But she did reveal it," he said. "To Miss Cordell."
"But not to me. She would have told me, Richard. What did Mrs. Andrews have to say of it?"
"She said she had agreed to not reveal Linda's presence in camp for the trouble it might cause, but that she would never agree to helping them keep an affair hidden."
"So..? Did she say William and Linda were not having an affair?"
"Yes," Richard replied.
"There's something not right here," Harmony shook her head slowly as if to clear it. "Sit with me. Tell me everything - all of it, the whole encounter as it was told to you."
"That would mean mentioning Cilla," he warned her as he lowered himself to the chaise at her side. She stiffened, her face closed over, but she nodded for him to continue anyway. Richard began, he repeated all Cilla had told him earlier, almost word for word.
"Beth can not visit camp without the other camp followers learning she was there," Harmony said, still frowning as if she were working on a puzzle.
"No, it would have been known to the other women that Beth was there."
"And Linda's tent is across and down from Mrs. Andrews and Miss Cordell's…"
"What are you driving at?"
"That Linda knew Beth had come and…" her face turned white as the blood drained from it. "And using that knowledge, she acted on it as soon as she saw William."
"Harmony…" Richard sighed. "Miss Cordell said he was going down to Linda's several times a week, for hours at a time!"
"Yes," Harmony spat, turning to face him, she was sitting on the very edge of the chaise. "And Linda expressed to me over and over again how frustrated she was, that William only ever wanted to play cards, drink whiskey, and talk." She jabbed her finger in Richard's chest. "That's what she told me, Richard. Me. So, who was she lying too? Me? Or Miss Cordell? She knows how close I have become to William, Richard. If Linda confided to me that they were having an affair, I would have given William the rough side of my tongue, make no mistake."
"Maybe William himself told her not to tell you, for that very reason."
"Richard, we are talking about a woman who blurted out to Mrs. Salisbury - for all to hear, that she was William's mistress - despite his telling her not to reveal it!" Harmony said, voice becoming heated. "Now, she was mighty embarrassed when he sent her away from camp. She despised slinking back, she worried what the other women were thinking of her, the Colonel's discarded mistress. She's a proud one, that one. If you ask me, it was Miss Cordell who was being lied too. Linda wanted to save face - she never would have revealed to the other women that William was visiting just to chat and pass the time. And she's obsessed with Beth," Harmony said, pondering. "Linda told me that whenever Beth came down to camp, she would hide herself in her tent and watch Beth's every move. Her tent is across from Mrs. Andrews and just a little further along. She would have been in it, watching and waiting for Beth to come back out. When she saw that William was coming…" Harmony drew in a sharp breath. "That's when she did it! William did not know Beth was there - but Linda knew. She would have seen him approaching. She would have seen Beth and the others had come out. And then suddenly William is there visiting Linda and Linda flew into action, throwing her arms around him and kissing him and making a show of putting his hand on her stomach. You even said it - she turned to look, she met Beth's eyes and she just smiled and shrugged!"
"You think she did it all on purpose," Richard breathed.
"I know she bloody did," Harmony spat.
"He kept saying to Beth, if you'd just let me explain," Richard said, realisation dawning on him as well. "As if he did have a rational explantation. And he maintained his innocence, from the start of the argument to the finish. Even when all was lost and Beth revealed she'd bedded Tarleton, even then, he did not change his story. That would have been the time to do so, if he'd been lying."
"He was not lying. Linda has confided to me every single time I've seen her, complaining how she tries to seduce him and at most, he let her kiss him once, but he wouldn't go any further and wouldn't even do that again, no matter how hard she tried. She may have given Miss Cordell an entirely different account, but that was to save face, Richard. They were not sporting with one another in her tent, they were playing cards and drinking whiskey and talking, just like Linda complained to me they were doing."
"That bitch," he gasped, staring Harmony in the eyes with growing horror. "
"Linda kissed him, embraced him, whispered in his ear. She encouraged him to make a display over the baby, she took his hand and invited him into the tent," Harmony said pointedly. "Knowing that Beth was standing right there, watching all of it."
"She was hoping Beth would jump to conclusions," Richard said, shaking his head in disbelief.
"When she looked at Beth and smiled and shrugged, that was her showing triumph, Richard. She saw her opportunity - Beth and William in camp at once! - and she seized it!" Harmony hissed, furious. "She has caused all of this, and now she'll likely offer to give him the comfort he'll need - between the sheets, of course, now that she's gotten Beth out of the way! You must return to Fresh Water and tell William at once, you need to tell him immediately."
"I can't, he isn't there, he gathered up the Dragoons and rode out," Richard said. "I will tell him, as soon as he returns."
"Damn and blast it. Richard, no more bringing her here. Bring Miss Cordell instead, she can come fetch me here from Mrs. Turnbull's. She's destroyed William's marriage. She has destroyed my friendship with Beth. What she's done… I don't even want to look at her."
"To be honest, I doubt Linda will be in camp for much longer. When I tell William all this, he will evict her, child or not."
"Well, if she does, you tell her not to come crawling to me. She's made her bed, she can damned well lie in it."
"We shall have our lunch soon, I'll send someone up shortly to let you know when it's ready. For now, I'll leave you to settle in."
"Thank you, Mrs. Kent," Linda said as the farmwife withdrew from the chamber. Linda closed the door, then turned back to the chamber, delighted. Her belongings were already put away, into drawers and chests. Atop one small table sat the cards and a bottle of whiskey. Linda stalked briskly across the chamber, picked up the cards and threw them into a drawer. They would not be needing those anymore. The whiskey could stay, however.
Kicking off her shoes, she went to test the bed. She spread herself across it, her head on the pillows, and sighed. So comfortable. So much better than straw on the ground. And Gods, it was warm! A small fire burning on the grate. The room was delightful - all whites and pinks and greens, damask wallpaper coating the walls, a large window overlooking the Kent's land. There's was a little plantation, but it flourished, Mr. Kent said, because of it's close proximity to Fresh Water and the Martin family. Linda hadn't cared to listen to his story, not when he began with that. It was clear they weren't doing too badly - the house was large and pretty and so damned comfortable. William had chosen well for her.
A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. It was all like a dream - from the moment she'd thrown her arms around William's shoulders and kissed him right there before his stupid wife. Linda had hoped her little display would send Beth packing and Gods, it had worked out so much better than she ever could have anticipated. She had no idea what had gone on up at the Great House - no one seemed to know the details of that. But what she did know, was that Mrs. Beth Tavington had felt a sudden and pressing need to visit her family and Linda herself was being packed up and sent to the Kent's, where Tavington would visit as soon as he returned. That's what Corporal Carr had told her, when he and several others began packing her belongings - at Colonel Tavington's orders.
He had thought of everything, he'd even sent word to the Kent's well before her arrival, to anticipate their new lodger. The Kent's weren't nearly as stuffy as the Turnbull's, they had been told to expect Tavington later and they hadn't batted an eyelid. All there was left to do, was wait. And Linda was good at waiting, hadn't she been doing so for months? She waited through lunch, then had a nice long bath, after which she took special pains to make herself as beautiful as possible. She dressed in her best, and had one of Mr. Kent's few negroes dress her hair. She waited through dinner and well into dark, was still waiting while the rest of the family put themselves to bed.
At long last, riders approached the house and Linda's swelled with joy. She leaped off the bed, fixed her hair by candlelight in the mirror, poured herself another glass of whiskey and this time, one for William too. There were footfalls in the corridor and Linda could barely keep still, her heart pounded as she waited for that wonderful knock. When it came, she called softly, "come."
The door opened and there he was. He barely acknowledged the slave who'd guided him, the negro who now closed the door behind him. William removed his great cloak, set it over the side of a chair, grace and beauty in his every move. She sighed as she watched him, when he straightened and then approached, his long legs and smart march as he crossed the room to her. She gazed up at him, into the face she loved so much, the very air swept from her lungs. He stared down at her, she recognised the dark look on his face, in his eyes.
Smiling, she wrapped her fingers around his glass, lifted it up in offering. He took it, drank it back in one gulp.
"Remind me, Linda, what is your safety word?" He asked, the glass still in his hand as he traced one finger along her cheek. Her and a thrill shot along her spine.
She licked her lips and struggled to form words. "Scarlet," she whispered, swallowing hard.
"Very good," he said. He set the glass down with a thump and then seized her arms, pulling her up swiftly to meet his lips.
The hour was late. When Richard slipped into his bed chamber, he expected to find Cilla sound asleep. However, as he opened the door, she sat up immediately and wiped her eyes. It was not sleep she was wiping from her eyes, but tears.
"Oh Cilla," he sighed. He went to sit on the edge of the bed, facing her. This time, he did put his arms around her as he would if she were Harmony and to his astonishment, she did not pull away or even stiffen. Instead, she clung to him and wept. "Here, I've been thinking," he said. "About what you said, about being alone here now without Beth. Maybe without Tarleton here, Miss Middleton might be allowed to return?" He asked and Cilla jerked her head up from his chest with a look of hope. "Would you like that?"
"I… Yes, I would," she replied, nodding. She wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand and sniffled.
"I'll see what I can do," he patted her back. Giving her one last squeeze, he removed his arms from the embrace, for he wasn't entirely certain if it was welcome or not. Better to urge on the side of caution. He remained sitting right before her, however. She pulled her knees up to her chest beneath the blankets and stared up at him gravely. Fearful that he would press her about trying for a baby? To put her at her ease, he said, "it's late, how about we try to get some sleep?"
She nodded and he adjusted the blankets around her as she slid back down the bed. Richard undressed, cursing the cold as he did so. The fire had almost burned itself out - he placed a few more logs on, then continued pulling off his boots. His fingers were ice within his gloves, he pulled them off and held them out toward the fire.
"It's damned cold out there," he complained, wiggling his toes within his socks to get the blood flowing again. He continued to dress down to his small clothes, folding his breeches, waist coat, shirt and Dragoon jacket with great care as he did. He went to his side of the bed and stared - his side was still made, the blankets crisp beneath the pillow, only billowed slightly up toward the centre of the bed where Cilla made a tent of them with her body. His side looked so damned cold, he was not going to enjoy getting in between the sheets. Cilla's side however - she looked so warm and cosy, curled on her side with her back to him, snuggled down beneath the blankets.
He always kept a space of a foot between them just the way she preferred, but now he longed to lay his body alongside hers. It was damned cold, her heat would warm him just nicely. He pulled back his blankets and climbed in, hissing as his cold legs slid down the freezing sheets. Without even considering her reaction, he shuffled along the sheets until his body was alongside hers, crossing over the imaginary one foot at all times barrier.
"What are you doing?" She gasped, lifting her head and shooting him a glance over her shoulder as his body spooned into hers.
"I'm damnably cold, Cilla. And you're damnably warm," he said into her hair. He pulled the covers up higher over them both. "Please, Cil? My fingers are freezing, everything is freezing and you're just so warm. I'm not going to do anything, I vow it." She stared at him and he wondered if she would demand he retreat to his side of the bed. "Seven weeks, we've been married. Seven weeks, we've been sharing this bed. Do you still not trust me?" He asked, quite shocked.
Cilla was biting her lip in thought. Then she heaved a sigh and relaxed.
"Just keep those frozen feet away from mine," she warned.
"I'll keep my chilled toes away," he promised. He slid his arm along the bottom of her pillows, when she laid down again, her neck and head were supported by the pillows and his arm. He suddenly didn't know what to do with his other hand, he reached out to place it on her waist, then thought better of it. He laid it straight down the length of his own body, but that felt too strange. In the end, he did place his hand on her waist and when she made no protest, he relaxed his body against hers. "This is so much better," he sighed as her warmth began to seep through him.
"For you maybe. You're very cold, Richard," she said.
He laughed softly. "When my body heats up, it'll be warmer than yours. You'll see, come winter, you'll be snuggling into me, not the other way around."
She grunted. The two fell silent, and to Richard's surprise, Cilla was soon snoring softly. He took it as a sign, perhaps she really was finally beginning to trust him. She never ceased to remind him of what he did to her - not that he could ever forget - but still, she did not appear to despise him as much as she had. Nor was she afraid of him anymore. At least, he hoped that was the case.