Chapter 110 - Trouble at the Mercantile:
The window was such a comfortable place to sit by, the sunlight streaming through the glass bathed Harmony's face. Her toasty position by the fire helped to create the illusion that it was actually warm outside. She would be accompanying Mrs. Turnbull for a walk to the mercantile soon, and because of the sun, had considered venturing out with only her light cape. However, upon seeing the people walking by her window huddling within their thick wool capes and overcoats, she realised what a mistake that would have been. With the sewing in her lap forgotten, Harmony watched the brave souls who would risk the temperature merely to be out in the sun again. The weather had been atrocious, so much rain! And winter was still a month from beginning. She sighed. Oh well, she did not intend to venture out much herself, even though she was free to do so now. Calvin had freed her, by murdering his superior officer. Although she felt pity for the poor murdered Major Fallows - and equally disgusted and intrigued by the manner of his death - she could not help but feel vast relief. No chance in hell could Calvin come and make some demand that she leave with him, not even if he did manage to discover where she was. Why, Richard was so certain of this, that he'd removed the two soldiers he'd had stationed at the Turnbull's and sent them back to their duties. Pembroke was held by the British and if he dared to show his face there, he'd be seized before he passed through the first check point.
She was safe. She and her baby. Finally, assuredly safe.
She placed her hand protectively over her rounded stomach, blinking back the misting in her eyes which made those people passing by appear fuzzy. Every time she thought of it, the relief welled up so strongly, she felt dazed by it. The worst chapter of her life had been slammed shut, it left her reeling to have everything change so abruptly.
She'd laid in Richard's arms at the room he hired at the tavern, both so shocked that they spent the entire time discussing Calvin, they did not even sport with one another. Calvin, engaging in relations with another man. Richard told her some of the awful details people were mulling over - how long their buggery had been going on for, that vials of oil had been found in Calvin's room, Fallows' room and his office. They had sported in all three chambers, it was believed. Richard had asked her about it, if she'd noticed that deranged strangeness in Calvin before. What could have driven him to bed another man?
Harmony hadn't been able to tell him. Even days later, she had no idea. She agreed with Richard - it must have been for advancement. Calvin always was an ambitious bastard, jealous of his position in life.
In the days that followed, when she and Richard met upstairs in their secret paradise in the room above the tavern, they did not waste their time speaking of Calvin. Harmony smiled, remembering her handsome lovers haste the first day - he'd gone too long without coupling and had almost torn her clothes from her.
He was gone now. He had sent Miss Cordell with news that Colonel Tavington had been captured by Benjamin Martin. Richard was deployed by O'Hara to resume the search for the murderer Farshaw.
If Richard found Calvin, Harmony doubted her husband would survive to see his trial and his execution by O'Hara. Richard would likely see to the hanging himself.
Richard was also sent to question any potential rebels as to William's whereabouts, for he, Brownlow and Dalton were missing. It had been reported to O'Hara that Martin had captured some fifty Green Dragoons, but according to one informant, Tavington, Brownlow and Dalton had not been among those who had been taken to a Continental strong hold or prison camp. Nor had they been killed, the information told O'Hara.
The question, therefore, was - where was Tavington?
Richard was to do his damndest to find out, he was also to do his damndest, to find Calvin the sodomite and murderer. While Harmony worried for Tavington, especially because he might be in Martin's hands, she could not help but glow. Calvin was gone in such a way that he could never return; she was finally free and her baby was finally safe.
It didn't matter to her if Calvin was ever caught, Harmony did not care anymore. Whether he lived or died, she was free of him. While she was under the protection of the British, he would never be able to touch her again.
"We're free," she whispered to her baby, her sing song voice breaking. She was on the verge of tears again, for even days later, she could scarcely believe it. After all she'd been through, and all the worrying for her baby should Calvin get his hands on her - and worse, if he'd discovered he had not sired the child… She'd made herself sick with the worrying, not sleeping a wink some nights.
And just like that - as though with a click of one's fingers - it was all gone. The dark threat that was Calvin bloody Farshaw. Simply gone. She laughed softly and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. How surreal. She wished she had someone to share her joy with. But Richard was away and she had no idea when he would return; who knew how long it would take him to find Calvin, and word of William?
She could not visit Mrs. Andrews and Miss Cordell, because the walk from Pembroke would leave her exposed on trails were rebels could be lurking. Without Richard to ask it of her, she could not approach the sentries at Pembroke to escort her - they might help Mrs. Farshaw, perhaps, for her affair with Richard had been quite well known. But as far as they were concerned, it was over now that he was married. For her to up and announce that she was Mrs. Farshaw would be as good as telling them why Richard frequented Pembroke so much. They would know that she was still in an affair with Richard and Gods, the damn would burst then.
Besides, what would Mrs. Turnbull say if she suddenly realised that 'Mrs. Campbell' was not Mrs. Campbell at all? That she was Mrs. Farshaw… She remembered the day when her name came up between Beth and Mrs. Turnbull, the awful things Mrs. Turnbull said about her, that Harmony had to pretend not to care about. Because she was Mrs. Campbell, wasn't she? And Mrs. Campbell wouldn't care that Mrs. Turnbull was calling Mrs. Farshaw a damned whore and doxy.
No. There was no hope for it, she would have to wait for Miss Cordell to return before she could gush over her good news to one of her friends. And she most certainly would not turn to Linda - not for anything. After what Linda did, Harmony had no desire to ever see her again.
It was quite saddening, the realization that she didn't really have any real friends to speak of.
Not even Beth...
She'd written to Beth, but despaired of ever receiving a reply. She tried to reach out to her friend, to mend the devastating breach between them. And more recently, she'd written to inform Beth of Calvin's crime, and what it would mean for Harmony. With the weather being what it was, they might take a long time in reaching Beth.
Would she even open them? Harmony wondered, biting the inside of her lip. Would Beth believe Harmony's apologies, if she did? Would she respond? Would Harmony like the response, if Beth did? She sighed, despairing over what might be the fate of her correspondence.
The distance between herself and Beth was almost as unbearable as that between herself and Richard. She missed her friend desperately. She missed having a friend at all. Letters were one thing, but this was the sort of giddy news that she wished to discuss over and over, with her friend sitting by her side and not caring one bit that Harmony was repeating herself for the one hundredth time. Would Beth rejoice with her, though? Would they ever sit together again over tea - or whiskey, as they had several times before? Would things ever be as they had been? Perhaps not, Harmony thought.
Even with this breach, Beth would rejoice that Harmony was safe from Calvin, even if the lass was angry with her. For Beth was not cruel, she did care for Harmony. She just needed to remember that. And if she knew how sorry Harmony was for keeping William's secrets, Beth would forgive her immediately, to put Harmony out of her misery. She was not a cruel lass; she'd been ill used and betrayed, even by her closest friend. Harmony closed her eyes, wishing all over again that she had been honest with Beth from the start. She should have told her that Linda had returned, and she should have assured Beth that William was not bedding Linda. Such a simple thing to reveal, it seemed utterly absurd that none of them had done so, especially in light of the damage the secret had caused.
Beth would have been indignant and would not have wanted Linda so close by. But Beth was not cruel - at worst, Linda would have been forced from Fresh Water and returned to the safety of the Turnbull's, that would have been Beth's only demand. Would that have been so bad? Harmony considered her own time living beneath Mrs. Turnbull's roof. No, it would not have been so bad at all. Harmony's only gripe with living with the Turnbull's, was that she was rarely able to see Richard. The couple were quite kind and very generous of both their time and their bounty. Harmony rarely wanted for anything. Except some whiskey perhaps. That would have been nice. Mrs. Turnbull would have had a fit if she asked, however. She thought Harmony was a woman as pious as she was herself. Her eyes would bulge from her head, if Harmony should reveal any of her less than ladylike habits.
The parlour door opened and Mrs. Turnbull herself appeared. "Are you ready, Mrs. Campbell?" She asked, using the name Harmony had assumed.
"I am," Harmony rose and, patting at her pockets to ensure her purse was there, she ventured into the hallway where she pulled on her gloves, and drew her cape and cloak about her shoulders. The two departed the house - with two of Mrs. Turnbull's maids trailing along behind at a discreet distance.
"I'm surprised they let you leave the plantation," Mrs. Campbell said as she poured some hot, spiced water into Cilla's cup. The Major's wife sat with the owner of the mercantile at a small table in a back room of the shop.
"I'm Major Bordon's wife," Cilla replied. "Not his prisoner."
"Since when have wives not been prisoners?" Mrs. Campbell laughed softly, then she waved her comment away. "I understand you, lass. It's just passing strange, having such a high ranking spy closeted with the British. You're Major Bordon's wife! And yet here you are, bringing me news. A Patriot, concealed amidst the Lions -"
"Hardly concealed," Cilla said dryly. "They all know I'm a Patriot. They just don't stop to consider that I might be active in my allegiance. Nor do they imagine that I have anyone to report to."
"Which brings me to my point! You are betraying them, each and every day. Not that I'm complaining, mind. It's just passing strange that a wife would betray her own husband. A Patriot prisoner living among the British, yes. But you're his wife!"
"I'm sorry if this disturbs your sensibilities," Cilla replied, gazing at the other woman earnestly. "I'm quite caught in the middle, you see. I'm a devoted wife, truly," the words almost choked her, but the semblance must be maintained. Reputation was everything and Cilla would allow nothing to tarnish hers. "But my father and his family - they are all Patriots. I was raised that way, also. How can I just shed all that off, when at the alter? I can't do that. I have to help my people as much as I am able - and where I am positioned, I am more than able. I do not betray my husband - not truly. I am faithful to my vows and to our marriage. It's the British I'm betraying. Richard and I… well, we can carve a life for ourselves here in a freed country."
"Do you think he'll change his allegiance, then?" Mrs. Campbell asked, quite curious. "Do you think he'll thank you, if he ever discovered your… activities?"
"Probably not," Cilla said thoughtfully. "To both questions.
"I didn't think so. For you are betraying him, no matter what you might say. Oh, not in the carnal sense. You're not off with some sweet heart, you're not committing adultery. But you are betraying your allegiance to your husband, lass."
"Which should only serve to prove to you my resolve," Cilla said, voice firm. "That I'm willing to go to these lengths -"
"Alright lass, alright. No need to to raise your voice," Mrs. Campbell said, amused. "I'm not judging you any more than I did Mrs. Tavington, when she did the same. I'm quite confounded by it all - I mean, why marry British officers at all? - but I do not judge."
"Thank you," Cilla inclined her head. She blew out a relieved breath, she felt as though she'd just wrestled a bear! It would be a difficult task, maintaining both the illusion of a happy marriage to Bordon, while betraying him to this woman. It might have lowered Mrs. Campbell's good opinion of her. Even though Mrs. Campbell herself was a Patriot and appreciated the information, she might have thought Cilla to not be very devout, or worse, she might have thought Cilla a wicked woman with no morals at all. Now that she had satisfied the other woman that she was the very model of virtue; albeit a conflicted one, she reached into her pocket and handed across the letter she'd written her father.
"I would have given this to one of our boys at Fresh Water, but as I'm here, I thought I could give it to you to pass along instead," she explained.
"I certainly shall, madam," Mrs. Campbell assured her.
"It's not imperative," a wistful smile crossed Cilla's face as she stared at the letter on the table. "There's no deadly important information. He gets that regularly already. This is just…" She shrugged. "A girl writing another letter to her papa."
"I understand," Mrs. Campbell reached across the table and squeezed Cilla's fingers. The door opening in the larger chamber without drew both their attentions. Mrs. Campbell said brightly, "customers! You'll be alright here for a few minutes, won't you Mrs. Bordon?"
"I will," Cilla promised.
Mrs. Campbell disappeared into the main portion of the shop, leaving the door slightly ajar. Cilla could hear her bright, cheery voice greeting her customers. For want of anything better to do, Cilla peered through the open door. She could see three very well dressed women and two plainly dressed Africans. An older woman of the wealthy sort, her two daughters, and their maids. While the African maids hovered nearby ready to assist their mistresses, the ladies themselves were moving amongst the tables, looking at wares as Mrs. Campbell chatted to them. Mrs. Campbell had an easy manner about her, she did not fawn all over her customers to make them purchase from her. Rather, she behaved as though she were in her parlor greeting guests, and she called the women by name. Mrs. Reynolds and her daughters, Miss Claire and Miss Alice, responded to Mrs. Campbell in the friendly manner. They were all so pleasant with one another, Cilla was almost certain the women must regularly spend a large fortune in the store.
The door opened again and another matronly woman entered, followed by a tall, blonde woman and again two African slaves coming in behind. If she'd known Mrs. Campbell would be so busy at this hour, Cilla would have come another time. It was risky, having so many people about, and her with her letter to a dead man sitting on the table where anyone might see it, should they step into the back room. Worrying about discovery, she slipped the envelope between some sheets of parchment.
"And how do you fare this morning, Mrs. Turnbull?" Mrs. Campbell was asking the newcomer. Cilla again returned to her vigil, she stared through the gap to catch sight of the women. "It's rather cold out, isn't it?"
"It's not raining, however," Mrs. Turnbull replied, after bidding Mrs. Reynolds and 'Miss Claire' and 'Miss Alice' a good morning. Cilla sighed, there was a time when she was greeted as warmly by her friends and acquaintances everywhere she went in the city. She'd been quite the popular lass back in Charlestown. Here in Pembroke, hardly anyone knew her. It would take her some time to build friendships. Her cousin, Henrietta Rutledge was nearby but Cilla did not dare go there, for she knew her father was stationed there and Cilla was not allowed to leave Fresh Water without a guard. At that moment, her score of Dragoons waited for her outside, some on the porch and some in the street. And a handful of others at the tavern... She would not take them within a mile of her cousin's house, where they might discover her father. Cilla longed to have friends again, with all of hers gone from her. No Emily, no Sarah, no Rebecca - though she held some hope that she might return. No Mary. No Beth...
"...Staying with me at the moment," Mrs. Turnbull was saying. "It's been dreadful weather of late, or I would have bought her by and introduced her sooner than this. But now is as good a time as any. Mrs. Reynolds, Mrs. Campbell, may I present to you Mrs. Campbell? She is a dear friend to Mrs. Tavington, you know," she said by way of boasting. As Mrs. Campbell gushed and asked the younger 'Mrs. Campbell' if their husbands might be related, Cilla was in the back room, struggling for air. Leaning half bent over the table, she peered through the gap of the door at the young blonde woman and she realised she knew that pretty, heart shaped face.
"Lord above, it's Mrs. Farshaw!" Cilla clamped her hands to her mouth and jerked back from the gap. It was Harmony Farshaw, Bordon's pregnant mistress! Fingers trembling, Cilla pulled over her chair to better position it at the gap by the door where she was able to stare at Harmony, unseen. Mrs. Turnbull was standing at Harmony's side, both were facing Cilla though if they could see that a woman was sitting in the back room, neither took any notice of her. Cilla was free to stare as a nervous seeming Harmony responded to Mrs. Campbell's question.
"Oh no, I don't think so," even Harmony's voice sounded nervous, to Cilla's ears. One hand rested on her stomach protectively, the other was a clenched fist at her side. "N-no, we are from... Where are you from?" When Mrs. Campbell replied that she'd derived from Charlestown itself, Harmony's body loosened and she finally committed to an evasive answer, "Oh, we are back country folk. My husband and I are from up Grindal Shoals way. Campbell is a common enough surname, I do not believe we might be related."
"No, I don't suppose we are," Mrs. Campbell said kindly.
"Then how in the world did you meet Colonel Tavington, if you're from so far off?" Mrs. Reynolds asked, as if in awe. "Are you truly close friends with Mrs. Tavington?"
Again, Harmony hesitated and Cilla's shocked gaze narrowed to a glare. If anyone had less right to call Beth friend, it was Mrs. Harmony bloody Farshaw. After what that woman did to her! If she claimed a friendship now, Cilla would stride out there and kick her!
"Yes, we are very close," Harmony replied and Cilla seethed. She stayed put despite her own assertion, but she seethed with rage. How dare she? After her betraying that friendship, how could she dare still claim to be close? "We met through our husbands, of course -"
"You mean your lovers," Cilla hissed through clenched teeth, her eyes fixed so hard on Harmony it was a surprise that Harmony could not sense the animosity. That stare alone should have alerted Harmony to Cilla's presence beyond the door.
"- my husband enlisted along with the other Loyalist men and he quickly became a favourite of Colonel Tavington's," Harmony's face was looking a little green and her voice was faint and whispery, at least she had the grace to be embarrassed as she spilled her lies all over the decent women of Pembroke! Cilla folded her arms across her chest and huffed out a breath.
As the women continued to chat, Cilla's eyes lowered to the pronounced swelling of her husband's child in his mistresses stomach. Her gaze drifted higher, to Harmony's face. She really was quite pretty, with her heart shaped face and pale skin, her large blue eyes. And with a pretty white bonnet atop her bundle of gold curls. Cilla straightened in her chair, suddenly disconcerted by Harmony's greater height. She was a full head taller than Cilla, she doubted Richard had to bend his neck to kiss her, nor would Harmony have to crane hers, to receive it! Cilla drew a long, slow breath. She was not jealous, as such. She had long since accepted that Richard would keep Harmony as his mistress, perhaps until his dying day. But here they both were, Cilla and Richard both, doing their best to convince people of what an upstanding couple they were, and how happily married; it was a little taxing at times, imagining her husband in this woman's arms.
Besides, Harmony was so pretty!
"...so sorry for your loss," Mrs. Reynolds was saying, now that Mrs. Turnbull had explained that 'Lieutenant Campbell' had died and left Harmony a widow. Harmony nodded and feigned a grief stricken look, lowering her eyes to the ground.
"Thank you," Harmony replied in her too pretty voice.
"Never you mind it," Mrs. Campbell commiserated. "With a pretty face like yours, you'll find yourself another husband in no time, one of some consequence too, with you having such high friends. As soon as you put aside your mourning, you'll have them lined up around the corner."
She had them lined up all the way through the tavern corridors and out the door, Cilla thought snidely, a crude joke though she knew that Harmony had not actually been a doxy. She'd only acted like one by taking a lover and bedding him outside of marriage...
"Mr. Clayton has dyed some of those balls a brilliant indigo," Mrs. Campbell pointed at a table filled with different coloured balls of yarn. "Perfect for knitting that we bairn a few dresses. You just keep looking, I'll be with you soon." With their greetings done, Mrs. Campbell turned back to Mrs. Reynolds. Cilla watched Harmony and Mrs. Turnbull 'oohhh' over a deep purple yarn of wool. She began to brood, for the yarns would be costly and it was her husband's money which would, no doubt, be financing them should Harmony choose to purchase. Oh well, Richard could not touch her inheritance, so as long as Cilla wasn't paying, she should not really care. Still, she sat back and glared blindly, hoping that they would leave soon. She could not risk discovery, she had no desire to enter into an altercation with her husband's mistress, that would be a galling display, one she had no desire for others to witness.
The lady of the house should not have to deal with her husband's rubbish.
The door opened again and as Cilla's eyes were still following Harmony, she saw Harmony glance toward it. She saw it the moment Harmony's smile slipped from her face. Cilla tried to see what Harmony was looking at but her field of vision was too narrow. She could hear well enough, though.
"Mrs. Campbell!"
Cilla heard and she knew it was directed at Harmony, not the real Mrs. Campbell. A woman's voice, sounding both friendly and mocking at once, as though there was a joke shared that only the two of them knew. The way she said the name, it was almost as though she knew it to be false. If that were the case, however, the woman was still willing to go along with the charade and call Harmony "Mrs. Campbell", which meant that the newcomer had to be a close friend indeed. Was Cilla the only person in the world to dislike Harmony, then? How was it that the lass was so damned popular? She'd won Beth over easily enough… Cilla tried to tamp down her jealousy as she continued to study her husband's very pretty mistress.
"Linda," Harmony sighed, turning back to the yarns.
It was like a kick to the guts. Hearing that name, Cilla thought she would faint. This was worse - so much worse! - than any other acquaintance. Linda Stokes - Tavington's whore! Cilla wished the ground would open up and take her now.
"Oh, Harm," Linda said as she finally came into Cilla's line of sight. Her hair was auburn again now, not that horrible muddy dark brown it'd been. The other thing Cilla noticed immediately was the very pronounced swelling of Beth's husband's child in his mistresses stomach. These damned doxies! "Oh, I need to speak with you, right away if you can spare me a moment." She was wringing her hands, her darting eyes were full, she appeared to be on the verge of tears.
"Did you go to the house?" Harmony asked, her voice was stern for some reason, and she did not look welcoming at all. If anything, her face had become as cold as a winter snow storm. Cilla thought that was odd...
"No, no. I was going to, but I saw you from back there on the street but you didn't see me. I saw you and Mrs. Turnbull come into the shop and I didn't want to waste a single moment," as though remembering her manners, she said in a louder voice, "good morning, Mrs. Turnbull. How are you?"
"Mrs. Merry, this is a surprise, we've not seen you in some time. How do you fare?"
"I'm well, thank you," Linda said even as she seized Harmony's arm and began edging away from Mrs. Turnbull, who appeared about to begin a conversation. "If I can just have that private word with you, Mrs. Campbell," Linda was saying, letting the older woman know she was not welcome. Cilla curled her lip - it was clumsily done and Mrs. Turnbull had every right to the insult Cilla saw cross her face. The act of dragging Harmony away from Mrs. Turnbull, bought the pair perilously close to the door. Cilla felt a moment of panic, certain Linda intended to shove Harmony into the back room and what a mess that would be!
Tavington's whore. Bordon's whore. Bordon's wife. It would have been like three cats stuck in a sack together. She sent a fervent prayer of thanks to His Lord Above, for making Linda stop shy of the door. She also thanked Him, for while the whores were still in the main chamber; Cilla remained undetected but now, she was able to hear every whispered word.
"Why is she glaring at me like that?" Linda raged. "She looks like she's got a carrot stuck up her arse." Cilla shook her head, stunned at the doxies complete lack of sense. She'd just utterly insulted Mrs. Turnbull and had no idea she'd even done it!
Now that she and Harmony could no longer be heard by the others, Linda spoke like the doxy she was, dropping all pretence at polite speech. Cilla drew a steady breath, what a harlot Linda was. What a mouth on her.
"Look, those other chits, all dressed in their best, just to visit a stupid mercantile," Linda complained. "This is probably the most exciting thing to happen to them in weeks; I'll bet their husband's are too busy burying their cocks up into those negro slaves to show them another. I'll bet they haven't been mounted for months."
Cilla's jaw dropped, her face flamed crimson. This was even worse!
"Linda," Harmony said, voice firm and disapproving. "Why are you here?"
"Because I was desperate to speak to you. Look, see here, I've got a letter from William," she said. "I need to know where he is, I need to speak to him!"
"Why?" Harmony asked. Linda was pressing the letter on her, so Harmony took the two pages from Linda's fingers.
"He says it is final, we truly are over. He even had this drawn up," she lifted the top page Harmony was holding. "He outlines that he will provide me with a maid and a governess to help with the child. He will give me a settlement of one thousand, but he will continue to pay for my lodging at the Kent's until I marry. He says I must sign it, and in doing so, I'll be releasing him from all further obligations beyond what he's stipulated! What could he possibly mean, Harm? Why take me from the camp and put me in with the Kent's at all, if he was never going to come back to me?"
"You haven't… since moving to the Kent's, you have not," Harmony glanced over her shoulder to ensure no one was close enough to hear. None were. She lowered her voice anyway. "Bedded him at the Kent's?"
"He came to me a few times. I thought it would be like the way it was before - before he married that chit. He even asked me if I remembered my safety word." This made no sense to Cilla, who was listening with ears stretched, on the edge of her seat for as much as she could glean from the conversation beyond the door. "I thought he would he'd start coupling with me again, he certainly looked ready to and Lord, I was damned near dripping, it'd been so long since I'd felt his touch," Linda sighed, Cilla could hear the catch in her voice. "I thought 'this is it, he's finally mine again' but he didn't bed me Harmony. He kissed me. He let me massage him. He got good and soused - so soused that he fell asleep in the bed and couldn't do any of the things I'd thought we'd finally be doing! I've been so patient! Lord, I was so frustrated. Having him finally in my bed again, and all he was going to do was drink and sleep? It was the same as the tent, all over again. But, I thought, well, there's always tomorrow night. I thought it was my own mistake, I always have a bottle of whiskey waiting for him so… I thought tomorrow night, I won't. It was all gone, I would not get him another. Only he never came back and he's been gone for days now, God only knows where and then out of the blue, I receive this!"
Cilla was frowning, Linda had spoken so quickly, with such passion, the doxies heart was breaking. Well, too bad for her. The things she seemed to be saying, however… What did she mean - all this talk about 'finally'? And that it'd been so long since she'd felt his touch, so long since they'd coupled. And that she thought it would be like it was before he married Beth? Cilla gnawed the inside of her lip.
"Read it, Harm. Gods, I can't bear to repeat it - just read it."
"Alright," Harmony said. "Dear Linda, hope this letter… yes, yes…" Harmony was reading as though she were skimming through it. "I know promises were made… you had expectations… I blame myself for that, it was I who had your tent packed up, it was I who arranged for you to be lodged with the Kent's." Harmony was reading properly now. "When my wife left, I did honestly intend for you and I to begin our intimacy anew. However, you must know that I was grieving, Linda. When my wife departed Fresh Water, I was in quite a state. The pain of that leave-taking has not lessened by a hair, but my sense has returned to me and I do not believe it would be wise to return to our previous understanding. On the day I married her, I promised my wife that I would be faithful. I know how much pain it has bought you, my keeping of that promise. However, I must be forthright - there can be no more ambiguity - whether Mrs. Tavington is at my side or not, faithful I shall continue to be. I know I have confused you, my intentions have been misleading even to myself and I must beg your forgiveness for causing you pain yet again. While I have broken my promise to keep you as my mistress, I have not forgotten the other promises I have made you. On those, I shall not renege. I placed you in the Kent's household, intending to resume our intimacies. I request that you continue to reside there, though with no expectations of me, aside from the following." Harmony's voice altered somewhat, as if she were now reading a list rather than an intimate exchange between lovers.
"I shall continue to pay for your lodging. You shall receive a stipend of ten pounds a month. When the baby is born, this will be increased to twenty pounds. You will be provided with a maid and a nurse, one with education that can teach my child as befits his station. When grown, I will pay for him to go to university. If it is a girl you bear me, I will set aside for her a dowry. Our child will have my name, that I might legally leave him or her a small legacy upon my death. I will, of course, give you the one thousand I promised - again, I urge you to use this as your dowry. Inform Private Cox that you and I have not had relations after he returned you to camp. If he is aware of this, he should take no issue entertaining the idea of marrying you. If that is what you choose, I will make him a Sergeant, as promised. I understand your reluctance, I know you are in love with me, but there is no future between us, you must reconcile yourself to this for once and for all. Think of your future, yours and our child's. If you marry Private Cox, you will be able to remain with the Legion and my child will know his father."
There must have been more, but Harmony stopped reading. She lifted her eyes, met Linda's. Cilla sat, as quiet as the grave, mind reeling as she watched the pair.
"So. I was right then. You were lying to Miss Cordell," Harmony said. Cilla drew a sharp breath, her hands flew to her mouth to muffle any further noises.
"What? Miss Cordell? Harm, if only I could speak to him, I know I could convince him that this is not the way," Linda said. "Do you know where he is?"
"You boasted to Miss Cordell that you and William recently started your affair again, even though at the same time, you were complaining to me that all he did was drink whiskey and play cards when he visited you," Harmony confronted.
"No, Miss Cordell has it wrong - she must have misunderstood. I will not marry Private Cox, William is the only man I'll ever want! I need to speak to him, Harmony!"
"She did not misunderstand," Harmony bit off each word. Cilla, who knew the truth now, watched quietly, feeling quite subdued. She saw Harmony fold the letter but she kept hold of it, she did not give it back to Linda. "I have spoken with her, Linda. With Miss Cordell. You told her that when William visited you, you were coupling with him. There is no misunderstanding."
Linda's face was colouring, bright blotches of red across her cheeks.
"So? What of it? I wasn't serious -"
"Wasn't serious," Harmony tossed her head.
"It doesn't matter what I was telling Miss bloody Cordell. That has no bearing on any of this; why are you going on about it? I came to you for advice -"
"Beth told William that if she ever heard even a whisper of him having an affair with you again, that it would be over between them. She told me she said that to him, and I know that William repeated it to you, too."
Linda lifted her chin, she was grinding her jaw.
"You knew she was in camp that morning," Harmony said and Linda froze like a startled deer. "You knew she was in Mrs. Andrews tent. And I know you, Linda. I know that you watch her every move when she's down in camp. You would have seen her come out again with the others. So when William came to visit you at that precise moment - for a round or two of cards and a few whiskeys and nothing more," Harmony stressed pointedly, "you decided to put on a show for Beth, didn't you?"
Cilla's stomach roiled, she placed her hand over her mouth, Gods, she felt like weeping. She'd been wrong - oh, so wrong. Beth had been wrong. They'd both believed - on the word and the actions of a whore, they'd both believed. It made her feel sick.
"What is wrong with you?" Linda asked, an edge to her voice. "Why should you care? I love William. Being apart from him has been tearing me to pieces, you know that it has. I've told you what agony it's been. Yet you make it sound as though I have done wrong? Whose side are you on, anyway?"
"Not the side of a conniving little bitch," Harmony snapped.
Cilla drew back, stunned. Linda looked as though she'd been slapped.