Chapter 112 - The Long Road:

21st October 1780

The carriage ambled along the muddy road, brilliant sunlight streamed in through the windows. Old Lucas twitched the reins, urging the four horses past the last of the village houses. Corporal Carr and nineteen more Dragoons trotted along, none of the men dared to peek into the carriage at the two women inside. Bordon's wife and, as every single one of them knew, Bordon's mistress. In the same place at the same time.

The same very confined space.

It was enough to make even battle hardened soldiers nervous. The Dragoons kept a firm eye on the forest road, keeping their noses firmly out of the women's business; though several of them had quietly taken wages on what might be occurring within.

What had occurred so far was nothing much. The two women sat as far from one another as they could, though it was difficult to achieve a great distance in the small cabin. By unspoken agreement, they both ensured there was a space of three inches between them, that was enough to make sure that their thighs did not accidentally bump as the carriage ride jostled them. Their skirts, voluminous as they were, did rustle together, and that was more contact than either woman could bare. Harmony kept a firm vigil out the right window, Cilla the left. Both had their arms folded across their chests, neither even trying to conceal their mutual dislike.

"'Often times soft in the head,'" Harmony quoted, her steaming voice finally shattering the tepid silence. Cilla turned her head toward her - their eyes met and locked. Harmony's were blue chips of flint, ready to spark. "Why did you have to say that? And the other things you said. I was so embarrassed in front of those women!"

"What, exactly, did you expect?" Cilla asked coolly. "With you sitting there like a useless lump of nothing. You didn't say two words the entire time, I had to come up with some explanation for your silence. Gods, I can not believe you left me to deal with it all! I thought you said you would walk over shards of glass for Richard? You said you would be able to pretend to a friendship! What rot," the girl huffed.

"It was not so easy as I thought it would be," Harmony admitted, her voice coming out harsh as she forced herself to admit a weakness to the other girl. "I've never much liked being with those sort of women and -"

"What sort of women are you suggesting they are?" Cilla interrupted, aghast, taking Harmony's comment the wrong way.

"The higher sort," Harmony bit out. "The well bred. Those who consider themselves superior. Silk wearing noblewomen, who want for nothing and expect everything. Women like you," she finished, getting in a dig of her own.

"Oh," Cilla returned to her view outside the window, some of her flare fading. She'd thought that this woman - who was no better than a doxy! - Was accusing Mrs. Reynolds and the other women to be as base as her.

"I am not of your station and I've always found it difficult to be myself around your sort. Beth is the only woman from your rank who I could relax with. And so no, I was unable to hold to my end of our agreement, Miss Putman. But that was no cause for you to say such a horrible thing!" Harmony ranted.

"Mrs. Bordon," Cilla corrected, voice firm, eyes again on Harmony. "I am Mrs. Bordon, now."

"I should have been Mrs. bloody Bordon!" Harmony snapped, face flaming. She twisted her lips and pulled her eyes away.

"And I should have been Mrs. Anybody Else, but here we are," Cilla replied, turning away again. "We make do with what we have. I am married to him and that's an end to it."

Harmony frowned, bemused by the comment. Hadn't Cilla trapped Richard into marrying her, by lifting her skirts and then crying foul when she got with child? It was Richard who should be married to Miss Anybody Else. Or, more accurately, he should have been married to herself, Miss Harmony Jutland. If only Calvin had not returned, if only Cilla had not gotten in the way.

"It'll never end," Harmony ground out, voice threatening, challenging, ready to defend her right to Richard with her last breath. "None of this will ever end. Even with all that has happened; I vow, I will not let him go. Not without a fight. I promise you now, Cilla - "

"Who said anything about fighting over him?" Cilla asked, genuinely startled. "Who said anything about forcing you to let him go? If he ever decides to be shed of you, then so be it. But I won't request it - I have my pride you know! - and I certainly won't fight for him." She laughed softly at the vision those words conjured. A vision of her and Harmony, their skirts flying all about them, Cilla's silks getting grubby by the dirt road, their hair flying loose from their dust caps, their arms flailing and fists striking - it was utterly absurd. Cilla would never, in a hundred years, stoop so low.

"He'll never be shed of me," Harmony said with shining confidence.

"I wonder if your Miss Stokes said the same of Tavington? We both know how that ended," Cilla taunted, watching Harmony's face carefully for signs of distress. There were none, if anything, Harmony's lips curved into a knowing smile.

"Richard loves me, there's the glaring difference. William never loved Linda, he always loved Beth," she shrugged.

"I know that now," Cilla sighed. She reached into the bag on the floor between her legs and pulled out a tapestry. She had nothing better to do, she might as well get a few stitches done while on the road. "And I know that Richard loves you and will never leave you. And I don't care, as long as you're discreet. Which you have been. It's a pity you put your trust into that doxy though, what she tried to expose today could have spelled disaster for us."

"Yes, I know," Harmony said, downcast. "I still can't believe it of her. How is that a fair revenge? What happened to an eye for an eye? It might have been a beating on her part, and certain death on mine."

"Clearly, she's a vindictive wench. Be more careful in your friends, in future. If you confide your intimacies to the wrong person, and that person gossips, it won't only affect you," she cautioned, lecturing. Harmony drew a steady breath, trying to maintain calm.

"You called me simpleton," she accused, "but that hardly makes me one. Honestly, how are any of those women to believe we're friends, with you saying such an awful thing?"

"How are any of them to think we're friends when you just sat there like a stunned goose?" Cilla shot back. "You left almost all of it to me in the mercantile and then just now over lunch as well. Well, if you will act like a brainless goose, none of them will think twice at my saying that you are. Besides, I smiled at you and patted your hand when I said it. They thought I was being affectionate and joking fondly with you."

"Wonderful," Harmony scowled.

The two fell silent again, with Harmony glaring out of the window and Cilla calmly working on her stitches. Calmly on the facade, at least. Within her breast, she was all turmoil. Not over Harmony and Bordon so much, though it was irksome that she had managed to trap herself so neatly, and was now saddled with Richard's mistress. It was Linda, Tavington and Beth she was thinking of now. Mostly of Tavington, whom she had felt certain was guilty over every awful thing she could think of. The evidence had been stacked against him, of course Cilla had believed as Beth had, that Tavington had been having an affair!

Only, he hadn't. That strumpet Linda Stokes had made it all up to get rid of Beth. And it worked - Beth was gone.

Beth, who had bedded another man before marrying Tavington, and was now off with him, with Banastre, only God knew where. Doing what everyone knew what.

"So," Cilla sighed, it was like the weight of the world was being expelled from her body. "Colonel Tavington did not have an affair." It was galling to say. Absolutely galling. But she had to get the words out. It needed to be discussed.

Beth would need to know.

"No, he did not," Harmony said firmly. "He was innocent there. Now, don't get me wrong, I am not on his side, not in the slightest. Why, if he were here, I'd kick him in the shins. Damned bastard, asking me to keep secrets from Beth. Never again. I won't do it, ever again. I don't care what trouble it causes between him and I. A line has been drawn, sides are being taken. I chose wrongly before, but I won't do that again. He should have told Beth from the first, the stupid bastard. None of this would be happening now, if he had."

"Well, that's partly true," Cilla mused. "There's another reason for their separation." Not that she was going to discuss it with Harmony Farshaw.

"Her bedding Banastre before marrying William?" Harmony asked and Cilla gasped.

"Oh, Richard told you," she said, her mind working quickly.

"Of course he did." Harmony snorted. "But I already knew, Cilla. Beth confided it to me a long while ago."

"She did?" All the hurt of her arrival to Fresh Water came rushing back - the pain of having to share Beth with Harmony when she'd thought she'd have her cousin all to herself. And now Beth had been confiding in Harmony, as well? She hadn't told Cilla about her time with Banastre.

To be fair, she likely hadn't thought she could, Cilla thought. Beth had likely worried how Cilla would react to being told such a thing. She'd likely been worried about being shunned. Just as Cilla never would have confided to Beth, her own affair with Banastre. Beth hadn't held it back because she preferred Harmony over Cilla.

"Beth did wrongly also, in bedding Ban - I mean, Colonel Tarleton," Cilla's face flooded with colour and she hoped Harmony did not notice the slip. She really did have to get used to referring to Banastre in a more formal manner. Banastre... She sighed, remembering... If only he were still with her. "She bedded him, then married Tavington without telling him. Now, don't get me wrong, I love Beth and I don't judge her for it. But as Tavington sees it, and as the Lord Above will see it, and our peers as well, it was a disgraceful act - the loss of her virtue and the deceit after - in not revealing it to Tavington. What I'm trying to say is, Beth and Tavington would likely have been bought to this conclusion anyway, even without that whore Linda Stokes interference."

"Not if she never told him," Harmony replied.

"Are you suggesting she should have taken this to her grave?" Cilla gasped.

"Of course! It's where secrets like this belong. What she did with Tarleton... It didn't make her love Tavington less now did it? And it didn't mean she would be unfaithful with Tarleton later. There would have been no repetition. So why would it need to be revealed?" Harmony arched an eyebrow.

"Hardly noble," Cilla huffed.

"Come now, would you have advised her to reveal it out of some ridiculous need to be noble?" Harmony cocked her head to one side. "Knowing that he'd likely beat her for it? She did what she did in a moment of weakness, when she was at her lowest. Colonel Tarleton took full advantage of her, knowing how much she needed the warmth and love of another living person. He did this, it's all his fault. And he gets nothing - in fact, he gets everything for he gets Beth. He is rewarded for it all!"

"He got beaten," Cilla shot back. "You weren't there. You didn't see Tavington's fist," Cilla made a small fist and punched outward, "strike Ban - Tarleton - on the chin. It slammed him into the drawers! And then later, Tavington knocked poor B - Tarleton out cold! Colonel Tarleton was trying to protect Beth, and Tavington just... Beat him down and then he grabbed up his belt and started beating Beth. It was horrible!"

"I'm sure it was," Harmony said, voice gentle as she pictured her poor friend, prone and unable to protect herself, as her husband raged and beat her with his belt. "Tavington is no innocent, he never has been. He has punished his wife, for things he himself has been doing for years and years. That's why I encouraged her to keep her secret, Cilla. Because he is no better, yet he would have been all uppity about it and would've hurt her. Which he did, in the end."

"Well, I don't know who was right and who was wrong," Cilla, confused by it all, began stabbing her needled into the tapestry. "Whether the secret should have been kept is between Beth and God. But Tavington now... Well, he didn't have an affair after all. Beth will need to be told," she finished, voice reluctant.

"I already have," Harmony despaired. "I've sent so many letters I've lost count."

Deliberately holding Harmony's gaze, Cilla amended with, "she will need to be told by someone she trusts."

Crestfallen, Harmony turned away.

"Don't worry. I will inform my cousin of how remorseful you are," Cilla said, heaving another sigh. "I will inform her that you know you chose wrongly and will always be on her side from this point forward, and I will tell her how you sowed the seeds in the mercantile today, that will go a long way in helping to keep Beth's reputation untarnished."

"You'd do that?" Harmony asked, startled by Cilla's generosity.

"I think that just now, Beth needs to know she does have friends. I don't like you much," Cilla scoffed; Lord, that was an understatement! "But I can see how much this is upsetting you and, well, I don't like to see anyone in pain," Cilla paused, then finished in a mutter, "well, perhaps except for Linda Stokes…"

"Oh," Harmony frowned, feeling a little confused. She could not bring herself to like Cilla either, but she had no choice but to admit that Cilla was not the horrible person she thought she was. Then again, there was the matter of Cilla lifting her skirts for Richard and getting herself pregnant back in Charlestown, and then chasing him down and forcing him to marry her, forever denying Harmony his hand… "Why will you tell Beth the truth?" She found herself asking, feeling suspicious. "You don't seem to like William overly much either. You can't want to see them reconciled."

"I despise him," Cilla agreed. "But it's the right thing to do. He is innocent of wrong doing, I now know the truth of the matter and it would be wrong of me to keep it to myself." She closed her eyes and swayed. "I love my cousin, so very much. I wish I could hold my silence, I wish to spare her this. It is going to crush her. No doubt she feels quite justified in her actions - going off with another man, I have very little doubt she is bedding him again, and all because she believes her husband has been unfaithful... Lord, I do wish I could spare her this, but it would not be right to keep this from her."

"I see," Harmony said, then she ventured, "I love her too, you know. I do wish I could spare her this also." There was another awkward moment of silence; neither woman was willing to trust the other very far. And it was disconcerting, the discovery that there could possibly be something that gave them common ground. Something connecting the two together - their deep affection for Beth. Proceeding carefully, Harmony complimented, "despite the digs you made at my expense, I think you did quite well back there. In the mercantile and again later with Mrs. Reynolds and her crowd. You managed to twist something that is actually true, into appearing like falsehoods, and those women believed you. Linda is discredited. While they will talk about her accusations and even repeat them to others, it will be with utter contempt, they will laugh at the presumption and deny the validity. I don't know that I could have done that. You understood how to speak to them and what to say to make them even less likely to pay Linda's words any mind…" She drew a deep breath and finished with, "it was well done."

"Thank you," Cilla replied, startled. "And of course I know how to speak to them, I am one of them. From the highest person to the lowest, reputation is everything. I think Miss Stokes is just learning that. I mean, did you see how easily Corporal Carr marched her out, on my word alone? The mistress of the Colonel, escorted away because the Major's wife ordered it done."

"She's not his mistress," Harmony said absently.

"Corporal Carr and those others have always thought otherwise," Cilla pointed out. "But he acted on my command, anyway. Miss Stokes has had another lessen today, no doubt. People will always believe an honest woman of virtue, over a woman who has none. She can scream her story to the stars and even though all of it is the truth, there's not a man alive who will take any notice of her at all. Indeed, they will tell her to be silent when speaking of her betters."

"I almost feel sorry for her, we were very good friends once," Harmony's voice was soft, melancholy. "I wonder what will become of her."

"Ah... Have you forgotten what she did today?" Cilla frowned. "Her machinations could have seen you abandoned entirely and back in your husband's hands!"

"And I'll never forgive her for it," Harmony replied. "But still. She's all alone now. Stranded. Where will she go? She can't stay at the Kent's - she can't sit and wait for William to return, for when he does, she won't fare well from it. She can't go back to the camp, there's no one there who would offer her shelter now. Mrs. Andrews and the others would report her presence immediately, now. She'll have to take to the road, and it's dangerous out there for a woman alone. Hell, it's dangerous for anyone traveling, no matter what their numbers. If she sets out with her portmanteaus, I doubt she'll have anything left in it when she arrives to Charlestown, if that's where she goes. There's brigands. There's rebels... What if she falls into their hands, and she's recognised as Tavington's mistress?"

"Well, going by the little I know about Miss Stokes, I doubt she will have to travel very far at all to find protection," Cilla curled her lip. "She'll offer herself up to some man or other, she'll prevail upon him for all that she needs and with the type of currency she uses, the poor soul won't hesitate to give it all to her. Miss Stokes has survived this long - no doubt she'll continue to thrive, no matter what trials she faces."

"You're probably right. Besides, she really did try to feed me to the wolves," Harmony's voice hardened. "Linda won't hesitate to continue whoring herself again, now that she's alone. She knows me though. She knows I never would do the same. She fed me to the wolves, she knew Mrs. Turnbull would turn me out to wander the roads, all alone. How would I have made my way? And if Calvin had gotten hold of me..." Harmony shuddered, her face draining of colour as though she could see her husband before her, reaching our to grab her...

"He really did those awful things to you?" Cilla asked, a mere whisper. Harmony swayed, eyes closed, face like death. She nodded once, a curt confirmation, and offered nothing further. There would be no detailing the event, no confidences shared with her lover's wife.

"I'm going to be sick," Harmony gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. Cilla, who did not want the interior of her uncle's carriage soiled, banged on the roof, shouting for Old Lucas to stop. Before the carriage could fully halt, Harmony threw open the door and leaped out. She and Cilla both spilled from the carriage, this shoes slipping in the mud as Harmony bolted for the nearby bushes. Cilla hovered behind the woman as Harmony, doubled over herself, hands pressed to her stomach, began to heave and vomit the delicate cakes they'd eaten a short while earlier in Mrs. Reynolds parlour. Screwing up her nose, Cilla looked away and focused on trying not to gag. The sounds Harmony was making were enough to inspire her to do the same.

"Mrs. Bordon?" Corporal Carr called, he had turned his mount and was coming toward her.

"Everything is fine," Cilla called back. "Mrs. Farshaw is pregnant and, well, it's the baby, you know." Corporal Carr stopped short and left the women alone.

"Yes, it's the pregnancy," Harmony agreed, straightening and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "And Calvin, and Linda and... Everything. It's all enough to make me as sick as a dog. After everything that happened today, I'm surprised you're not retching, also."

"Believe me, after watching that, I sorely want to," Cilla squished her nose in distaste. "If you're done? We need to be back on the road." Cilla turned back to the carriage, leaving a weakened Harmony to follow along as best she could.

Linda's belongings made a heavy load; a large box in each of her hands weighing her down. She'd had to purchase those from Mrs. Kent, and she'd had to leave behind her portmanteaus. She even carried another bag, looped through her arms and hanging from her back. Within the two cases and the leather rucksack, she had managed to cram all of her worldly possessions.

Now, the long wagon road stretched before her.

Already exhausted from the weight of the heavy load and from the child in her body, Linda stopped and stared.

After purchasing the two cases, she had not spoken another word to a very flustered Mrs. Kent, she had packed belongings and in solemn silence, and she walked out of the woman's home.

Her departure was a far cry from her arrival. There was no triumph now, only the desperate feelings of heartbreak, loneliness, fear and exhaustion. William was shed of her. And as soon as William was told what she had done, he would be on the war path. All things had come to an end between them. Better that she was gone before he returned, for it was quite painful enough without whatever beating he was sure to give her. Not that she had any choice in the matter. That harridan Cilla Bordon had seen to that. And Harmony, how could she turn on her so? Betrayed by one of her very few friends.

The weak sun was high in the sky by now, marking its passage toward mid afternoon. With O'Hara's headquarters in the Ferguson home to her back and Fresh Water before her, Linda had stopped on the road for a rest and now, she could not seem to make herself move on again. Charlestown was such a long way and she was already exhausted. The walk into Pembroke, the argument with Harmony and her humiliating expulsion from the village, the walk back to the Kent's and her departure from there. She was five months pregnant, carrying all of her worldly possessions, and she was so very tired. How would she possibly reach Charlestown at this rate, at this very slow shuffle? On foot - it would take her months.

She had money in her pockets. But could she secure passage on any of the ferries? Were there any ferries left? Many of the boats hereabouts had been targeted and burned by Benjamin Martin's men. Linda might have to walk for miles before she discovered a wharf where the ferry was untouched.

With soldiers striding by and all around her, purposefully going about their own business, Linda could only stand there and fret. The road seemed to stretch on into forever. She was halfway along with her pregnancy, walking such a long way would kill her. To stumble along, day in, day out. What if she didn't make the next village before night fall? Would she sleep in the woods? Would a farmer take her in? Would he expect favours in return for lodging, or would he be content with her money? And the walk itself, what if she turned an ankle? There would be no one to help her. Hell, she was surrounded by soldiers and there was no one to help her now. She was completely alone.

Oh, she'd been on her own before, and even though she'd felt herself in desperate straights before, she had always been able to fend for herself. But now... She was just so tired. And what of the baby? When her time for birthing came, what would she do? She had no husband, and no women she knew to assist her during her lay in. Feeling vulnerable in a way she'd never felt in her life, Linda dropped her boxes to the ground, lowered her face into her hands and began to weep.

Hell, William had shed himself of her, it was over between them, as far as he was concerned. He had been willing to pay her way at the Kent's, but that offer would be whipped away quickly enough, when he was told what she did. William would turn her away if she stayed in his camp.

After beating her senseless.

He probably wouldn't help with the baby, now, either. He would be too angry, and he'd want to punish her to the last degree. The money she had, well, it was probably all she'd see from him, and it probably wouldn't last a year. People with careful management could live on far less for far longer, but Linda had never known how to modify her spending to live on less. When she needed money, she took a man to her bed and when she had the money, she spent it.

But she found she did not want to be a whore anymore. She'd been risen to the status of mistress and it had been… Grand. To fall back on prostitution now… God, she just couldn't. But she could not stay. William would kill her. She had no protection from him whatsoever.

Unless…

An idea began to form, offering her some semblance of calm. Of hope. Linda slowed her weeping. When she was merely sniffling, she wiped her eyes. She adjusted the straps on her arms to make the bag more comfortable on her back, then she picked up her boxes again. She set one foot before the other and began walking. Veering off from the road, she began to wind her way through the camp, past the long lines of tents. She was not welcome there, the women would not take her in, not this time. She had lied to Miss Cordell, who in turn had felt the need to lie to Beth, on Linda's behalf, helping to hide an affair that did not exist. Miss Cordell had been yelled at and shunned, and she was a gentle creature, Beth's rejection of her had affected her deeply. It'd effected Harmony deeply too. Neither cared about Linda though, did they? Linda drew a shuddering breath, she sunk her teeth into her lip to hold back the tears. She was not welcome there, but she continued on through the camp anyway. The avenues here were orderly, although she was not familiar with this section of camp, she could negotiate herself easily enough. She continued on until she came to a more familiar section. There were faces she recognised here; however, she did not stop to speak to Mrs. Andrews or Miss Cordell when she saw them. They glanced at her with surprise, their curious eyes lingering on her bag, the boxes, and her tear stained face. They knew then, Linda could see it on their faces.

William was shed of her.

Before they could step forward to offer comfort, Linda bowed her head and walked on by. Pride pushed her past the women, she could not bear to see her own failure reflected in their eyes. Besides, when Miss Cordell knew the truth… No, she did not stop, she just kept walking.

Tears welled again, it was an end to all things now.

Even when she won William back, it had not been a full triumph. She had not known his touch. And nor would she, not now. Lord, she loved him so much, she felt a splintering within herself, within her chest. How could she live without him?

I'll take what I can have of you, for as long as I can.

That's what she'd told him, once. She should have remembered, she should have stuck to that. Instead, in her desperation for more, she'd seized the opportunity to be rid of Beth Tavington, and that had proven Linda's own undoing. Where before, at least she had William's visits and his company, now, she would have none of William.

Except his wrath.

She had to find a way to survive without him; a small part of her, the resourceful part, the part that would not let her lie down in the road and die, made her move onward toward what, she hoped, would be her salvation. She had to protect herself and returning to Charlestown, husband-less and alone and with child, was not the answer. If she could get to Charlestown at all. Finally, a good hour after setting off from the road and walking deeply into the camp, she found Private Cox's tent. He was sitting outside of it. A dirty square of wool was laid out on the ground beside him, with various tools needed for him to clean his musket. When her shadow closed over him, Cox glanced up from the musket in his lap, and he gave a start of surprise to see Linda standing before him.

"I ah… just…" Linda paused, suddenly tongue tied. She stood there feeling very stupid, and knowing she must look it also. The bag strung over her shoulder, the two boxes clutched in her hands. Dirty face streaked with dried tears. She must have looked a sight, standing before him so pitifully. Her hands felt weak, the cases were suddenly too heavy to hold and she dropped them to the ground. The rucksack soon followed.

"Are you alright?" He asked, slowly placing his weapon onto the cloth on the ground and rising to his feet. Linda began to nod, but when tears burned her eyes, she swiftly changed the gesture, furiously shaking her head instead. Eyes squeezed shut, she began to cry.

"I've g-got myself into t-trouble again," she whispered, utterly broken.

"Yes, well," he began, voice cool and guarded. "That's what happens when you take up with married men. Has he set you aside then?"

"I… I…" Linda sniffed, eyes on the ground before Cox's feet. She'd never felt so vulnerable. "I never took up with him. I was hoping he would and when his wife left, I thought he had."

"You haven't…" Cox breathed, stunned.

"No. And now… he'll s-send me f-from camp when he knows I'm still here, and p-probably beat m-me first."

"Jesus," Cox whispered. "Why do you think he'll beat you? What did you do that you'd deserve that?"

Linda was beyond talking just then, she could only keep her eyes squeezed shut and shake her head again.

"Something bad," she said softly when she could find her voice. "He'll n-never forgive it."

"I see," Cox braced himself, he folded his arms across his chest. "What are you doing here then? You should be halfway to Charlestown. I know I would be, if I got on the wrong side of the Colonel."

"I was hoping…" She paused, then finally met the man's eyes. "I've got nowhere else to go. I've got no friends," not even Harmony. Linda bit her lip against the well of anguish rising in her breast. "This thing I did… Everyone is turning their back on me now. William will be lost to me. He won't look after the baby now. I'll be giving birth alone in Charlestown, if I make it that far. No family, no friends," she paused, stared into his eyes and in a begging voice she finished, "and no husband."

"And so you come crawling to me then, huh?" He asked, suddenly irritated with her. Hadn't he tried to court her, for months? He'd been prepared to take her, knowing she had been a whore. He would have taken her, baby and all. He would have done right by her, but she rejected him time and time again, in favour of the Colonel. Now, when the Colonel no longer wants her, she finally comes to him. He hadn't been good enough for her before, but suddenly he was looking like a fine choice now. He felt the insult keenly.

"Jeffrey, please," she begged, stepping closer and placing her hand on his chest. He drew a sharp breath and turned his head, his lips tight. He could not shut out her words, and he felt himself moved by them. "I've got no one else. I know I led you along, I should have married you back when you fetched me from Pembroke. But I was in love and I was stupid," she choked off, for she was still in love. And she was still stupid. She should be halfway to Charlestown by now, just like he'd said. But it was so far. And she was so alone. "I've got no one else," she said, forlorn. "No husband to protect me. And I'm going to need that, I think, when William… when he comes back. I can't leave here. Honestly, I just can't! Charlestown is so far and I'm so tired. I'm five months pregnant, I can't walk all that way. It's not safe - not on the roads and not on the rivers. But if I stay… he'll find me and he'll…"

"What did you do that riled him so bad?" Cox asked again.

"Does it matter?" Linda dropped her hand from his chest.

"Yes," Cox said. Linda sighed. Bowing her head, she told him all of it.

"I shouldn't have done it," she admitted when she came to the end.

"No, you most certainly should not have done that," he ground out, astonished.

"And now you hate me to. I've lost Miss Cordell, Mrs. Andrews, no doubt. Harmony," her voice hitched. "William. Him, I've lost for certain. When he finds out… Jeffrey, I have no where to go. I have to stay. Please. Will you marry me? Will you become my husband, will you protect me?"

"I can't protect you from the Colonel, especially for this. You sabotaged his marriage, Linda," he said slowly, considering her words. "Hell, he'd likely whip me in your place, as your husband I'd have to take your punishment."

"He wouldn't do that. I'm thinking that if I marry you like he told me to and if I don't cause more mischief, then he might not punish me at all," she didn't sound very convinced of this, she sounded quite uncertain in fact.

"He told you to marry me?"

"Yes, he said he'd make you a Sergeant, if I did. Maybe he still will. And I'll tell him I'll take the whipping, if he decides that my being married ain't enough. And look, I've got money," she dipped into her pockets and pulled out the promissory notes and coins William had given her. The sovereigns and guineas amounted to just shy of a hundred pounds, and the notes provided her with the thousand - her settlement. "If you're careful, this will last you for years. It'll be all yours, when you marry me. It's better you manage it than me. I'm no good at that. It's a good start, don't you think?"

"One thousand pounds is not something to scoff at," Cox said, reverently taking hold of the notes and staring down at cursive writing on the bank notes. "I was willing to marry you before you had a single penny, Linda," he pointed out.

"And now?" She asked, stepping closer again. "I've led you along, I know it. But I need you now. Surely this will make up for some of it?" She inclined her head to the papers held loosely in his fingers.

"Somewhat, I suppose," he agreed, thinking of how he could surely use such a vast sum of money.

"I think… If we marry, it might mollify him a bit. He doesn't know what I did, not yet. This morning, I received a letter from him, that was when he told me that we wouldn't be returning to what we were before we came here. In the letter, he instructed me to marry you and he gave me that money. He told me to tell you that if you agreed, he'd make you a Sergeant."

"Can I see the letter?"

"No," Linda's shoulders slumped. "Mrs. Bordon tore it up. I don't know why. Maybe she was worried I'd try to blackmail William or somewhat, because he acknowledged the baby in the letter, he said it would have his name and that he'd give me a monthly stipend for it, and a maid and a nurse, though I don't think he'll do those things now. Mrs. Bordon tore it to shreds, so I can't show it to you. But he did say he'd make you a Sergeant and on that, I don't think he'll renege. It's me he'll want to punish, not you. What else will it take, Jeffrey?" She asked, there was a whimper in her voice, she'd been so certain the money would grab his attention and he'd agree to marry her without any further thought. He was quiet for far too long and she began to despair.

"I want you to be a proper wife," he replied, folding the papers. He put them into his pocket and Linda breathed a sigh of relief - he would not be keeping her money if he was not willing to marry her. "Can you live a proper life, Linda? Can you raise this child and mine, do cooking and cleaning, the ordinary tasks of an ordinary wife? Because if you can't agree to that, if you can't make me believe it, here and now, then I'll hand you the money back and you can go your own way. I won't ever ask you to marry me again. When you stopped seeing me because Tavington started calling on you again, I promised myself that I would not. I do have my pride, Linda."

"I just proposed to you, didn't I?" She asked, feeling quite daunted and nervous.

"You did. But it's not enough. I want your word. If you're wrong about Tavington? He changes his mind like the wind, what if he decides he wants you again? I won't have it. You will show respect for me by keeping faith. I won't marry you unless you agree to it. Even for the Colonel, you will be true to me. And no whoring. No being some other man's mistress when my back is turned. Your life won't be as exciting as it's been with him, but it will be far more secure. If he declares you're to be punished, I will take it for you. He is a Gentleman and he can't refuse that request coming from your own husband. But that security will come at a price, Linda. Are you willing to pay it?"

Linda dropped to her knees. Right there in front of Cox, at his feet, the thick sloppy mud wetting through to her knees. Cox gaped down at her, he hadn't expected this. A promise alone would have sufficed, he did not expect it to be delivered from her knees.

Soldiers and women stopped in their tracks, Linda heard the silence fall, and then the whispering. It didn't matter. She would be living among the men in his unit now. They would all be aware that she had once been William's mistress. They would know that more recently, Cox had been trying to court her, of his repeated marriage proposals and of her constant refusals as she threw him over in favour of the Colonel. And now - when the Colonel was clearly done with her - now she would marry Cox? None of them would believe it, all of them would be watching her, expecting her to stray. She would be living among soldiers and women who would be constantly suspicious of her, people who might even be insulting to Cox because of her. She had a price to pay to him, and an oath to make now. She seized his hand.

"I Linda Stokes, do vow to be a proper wife," she began in a clear voice, her eyes alternating between holding his, and darting to those onlookers. "I will tend your hearth, I will be a mother to your children. I will never give you the slightest cause to doubt my fidelity -"

"Until the Colonel returns," she heard some woman whisper and another woman laughed. Linda ignored them both.

"I never will give you that cause for concern, Jeffrey," she repeated, voice firm, eyes on his. "I will be true to you. I'll do the best that I can. To my greatest extreme, I vow it. Until my heart stops beating and -"

"Alright, alright," Jeffrey, convinced now and a little embarrassed besides, helped Linda back to her feet. He picked up her boxes and her bag. "Come inside, you'll need to tidy yourself up if we're going to go speak to Reverend Premmon," he said as he led her into the tent, his large hand on the small of her back. Several of the onlookers clapped, many did not. Cox was well liked, many would not approve of him marrying this particular woman - the Colonel's whore who had used Cox so badly. With a shrug, he left Linda inside the tent to change, while he emerged to tidy his tools and cloth and gun. The crowd had already begun to disperse.

"We'll be all the gossip for a short while," he confided to one of his friends, who'd come forward to speak of what had just occurred. "But they'll find something else to focus on soon enough."

And when the Colonel returns and demands Linda be handed over for punishment of this crime? Well, I'll just have to cross that bridge when I come to it, he thought, stifling his worry as he turned back into the tent to see to Linda.