Chapter 115 - Waiting on Richard:

The hallway was empty for the moment; though Harmony could hear voices approaching. She lingered around the corner, just outside her own chamber, the wall sconce above her flooding her with light. Lord, it had been a magical afternoon with Richard, simply divine. A return to the way it used to be; the was it should be. They had made love, twice, Richard had bought Harmony to the height of ecstasy and together they had fallen into oblivion, that wonderful place they shared where no one else could reach them. They had slept, too. And when they were awake and not sporting, they talked. About everything - about the war and William's whipping, about Richard's inability to comprehend how William could possibly reach an accord with his father in law, the enemy Benjamin Martin. That had sparked Harmony's interest, she would certainly require more details about that and the other things Richard had spoken of. They had moved on from the subject to discuss other things more personal to themselves; Calvin for instance, and Cilla. After being in his arms for somewhere reaching four hours or so, Harmony no longer feared that Richard might have broken his vow, she was not suspicious that he might have consummated his marriage to Cilla. The affinity she had seen between the pair had not blossomed from coupling, but by having been forced into one another's company. And Richard had reassured Harmony all over again, that Calvin would never reach her; he would never hurt her again. With the serious topics exhausted, the two had begun to speak of more normal things; Richard's horse - something only a man could deem to be highly important, how the weather was changing, what their immediate future would be. And the babe, of course.

They discussed their child at length, Harmony had swelled with affection when Richard, flushed with joy, was finally able to feel the baby moving beneath his splayed hand, within her stomach. Those incredible moments could not be surpassed.

Unfortunately, however, they could only ever be short lived.

Only too soon, the real world came crashing down upon them; when Cilla herself had knocked on the door, quiet as a mouse, and called to Richard that it was time to begin making preparations for the dinner. A bath was waiting, her muffled voice said, and the carriage would be ready by five-thirty.

Oh, how that had stung. Harmony had watched in morose silence as Richard rose to answer the beckoning of his wife. He dressed, equally quiet, not able to meet her eyes. No, he was not bedding Cilla, but nor was he entirely Harmony's any more. Cilla had a claim to him, she had ties to him now and, as her knocking on the door demonstrated, she would not hesitate to tug them. And he would answer her call, he would leave Harmony's bed to do as his wife instructed.

For she, Harmony, was just the mistress.

Richard would never her treat her that way on purpose, but their circumstances were such - his obligations were such - that that was exactly how she ended up feeling.

The first example of this slap in the face was the soiree Richard had gone off to get ready for - this evenings dinner. A formal affair, where high ranking Officers and Officials would gather together to celebrate the return of their hero, Colonel William Tavington. General O'Hara was hosting. His adjutants, some of them sons of the nobility, if they were not Lords themselves, would be in attendance. Local gentlemen and wives, Loyalists of wealth and substance, were to be privileged guests - British and Colonial aristocracy. Richard was invited of course. As was his wife.

His wife, NOT his mistress. Those good people would be mortified if she were found mingling among them.

This was the part of Richard's life that Harmony should have been sharing in, would have been sharing in, if not for Calvin. And for Cilla. Now, she had to share Richard with Cilla, and she wasn't certain which of them was getting the better half of him. Harmony had the passionate bed chamber Bordon, but Cilla had the public Bordon, she got to be paraded as Mrs. Bordon. Harmony should have had all of Bordon, from his bed chamber to his name, and would have done if not for Calvin and Cilla. This was the part of Richard's life that Harmony would never be able to experience.

All the glitter and wealth, the gentle clinking of glasses, the fine talk and finer clothes. Consorting with men and women of elegance and principals. That was a wife's domain.

That, was Cilla's territory.

And no doubt, being a young aristocrat in her element, Cilla would shine.

Harmony would never be welcome among that kind, the entire lot would be scandalised should Richard take her to such an event. They would curl their lips and look down their noses, and Harmony would feel like a rodent among peacocks. No, Richard's bed - now that was Harmony's domain, that was the place she would shine, a place Cilla could never reach him.

But it would always be behind closed doors, hidden away from the view of the important and the noble; while Cilla, the wife, was shown off to the public like a fine, highly prized and sought after jewel.

It had hurt Harmony more than she cared to admit, when Richard left her to dine with the other Officers, with Cilla on his arm. He could have made his excuses and not gone at all, he could have pled the rigours of his long journey. Such an excuse would have been accepted, understood by those above him. But no. He had been entirely too eager to attend them. He'd been entirely too ready to bounce from the bed of his mistress, to be with those Gentlemen, his wife at his side.

She had sat alone for these last few hours, forlorn, dejected. And bored. But he was returning now, and he would retire with her to her chamber. To her bed.

That, was Harmony's territory. Richard's affections and his intimacy, those were Harmony's territory, and they always would be. She tried to take solace from that, and she brightened when the person thudding up the stairs, finally reached the top landing.

"…Retire for the evening," William was saying as he reached the top of the stairs and stepped into the hall. Harmony peaked around the corner to try and catch sight of Richard. William, she thought, looked no worse for wear despite his recent tortures. The lashes still caused immense pain, Richard had told her, but William refused to let it show on his face. "See that I am not disturbed." He commanded the person behind him. Richard, she hoped.

"Yes, Sir," Brownlow, who appeared after him, saluted. The Cornet headed back downstairs out of sight, no doubt to repeat the Colonel's command. William continued striding toward Harmony, he had not seen her yet. Harmony stared past him, certain Richard was not far behind. The two were always together at these little soirees, one was never without the other. And if William had made his excuses to O'Hara and returned home, then Richard would have also, surely.

"Mary; Mother of Christ!" William cursed, almost leaping out of his skin when he saw her standing there in the doorway. stopping dead when he finally caught sight of her. Harmony shifted her gaze back to him, she stepped around the corner to reveal herself more fully. William's shock was real and true, he was staring at her goggle eyed, jaw on the floor, looking every bit the gaping fish.

Which could only mean that Richard had not shared news of her with William. They'd been together these last few hours, yet Richard had not seen fit to tell his friend that Harmony was again residing at Fresh Water and all of what had befallen her?

"What the devil are you doing here?" The Colonel spat, glancing over his shoulder as if worried about whom else he might see.

"It's good to see you too, William," Harmony said, eyes narrow, voice prim. Why hadn't Richard told William? Was it because he'd been too busy hobnobbing with the other Officers, and he had not wanted anyone to over hear him speak of her? How could he hold such news in? If he couldn't shout it to the stars that she was returned to him, at least he'd take the time to tell his dearest friend, surely? Why hadn't he? The question spun through her head. William snatched her arm and began to pull her toward his chamber, glancing over his shoulder as if expecting to be caught at any moment.

"The servants are aware I'm here, William," she announced, exasperated. He shoved her into his room and closed the door behind them both.

The fire was already lit, of course. Mila's husband had seen to it, Zeke took care to anticipate every one of William's whims. On a side stand was a basin and a ewer of water and on the low boy, a fine silver tray, with a decanter of brandy and a glass. The chamber was tidy, not a thing out of place, the bed made up crisply. That was Mila's doing, Harmony suspected. But it was Zeke who took care of everything else. He'd been beside himself for the week since Harmony's arrival, constantly fearing for his employer's fate.

And therefore his own, Harmony thought dryly. Zeke must have been as happy as a virgin on her wedding night, to have William returned and his own future secured.

"How did you..?" William frowned fiercely. He paused, then spat hurriedly, "bloody Mila. It was her, wasn't it? She's always bloody going behind my back, looking after Beth and now hiding you as well! Hell's teeth, Harm. You must know that you're courting disaster, being here!"

"So. Richard told you nothing then?" Harmony's veins began to warm, the heat of anger flowing through her. "He could not spare five minutes away from the popinjays, to tell you the news?"

"What the devil?" Tavington's face squished, she'd never seen him look so puzzled. With a shrug, she reached for the decanter. Only one glass. Zeke clearly did not expect the Colonel to have company in his bed chamber. How remiss of him. And how remiss of Richard, not to inform the Colonel of her presence. Turning to William, she drained the glass in one gulp, her throat working as she swallowed. She poured a second glass, and handed it to him.

"I'm already bloody well annoyed with you, William, so please stop glowering at me like that. Richard knows I'm here. If you're upset about not being informed, then take it up with him. And with Cilla. She's your bloody cousin in law or something, whatever she is. Richard could have told you at any time during this fancy dinner party," she said, voice thick with bitterness. "Where is he, by the by?"

"Ah…" William frowned, cocked his head. "At the fancy dinner party…"

"I am aware he was at it, William. I am asking where he is now. If you're here, why isn't he?"

"We are not tied to the hip," William said dryly. He seated himself on the bed and stretched his long legs out before him, boots crossed at the ankles. "I had no choice but to go to that damned party, I had to endure it for hours until I could finally make my escape. I waited until enough time had gone by that none could be offended, and then I excused myself. Richard was enjoying the party more than I, however, therefore he stayed."

"Enjoying it, was he?" Oh, that stung. Harmony held out her hand, fingers wiggling imperiously.

Still shocked at seeing her, at Fresh Water, where Richard lived with his wife, William handed her the glass. It was a puzzle that, he was sure, would soon be answered. Harmony would explain herself, when she was ready. For now, William moved over to make room for her and she sat beside him on the bed. She drank back the brandy, William reached for the decanter to pour more.

"I have been here all week," she explained. "Waiting for Richard to return. He was as shocked as you are, to find me here. The why doesn't matter, not right now," she held up one hand when he opened his mouth to ask, "I'm tired William. Tired of repeating the same story over and over. I'll tell you, but Christ, just not now, alright?"

"Very well," he said, brow furrowing. "What was that you said before, you're already annoyed with me?"

"Oh, yes," she said, shifting until she was sitting more fully on the bed, she turned to face him and crossed her legs beneath her. She wore only her nightgown and shift, her long golden hair hanging in loose curls about her shoulders and down her back. Not exactly the most decent apparel to wear in the company of a man not her husband, in his bed chamber at that. It most certainly was not proper. Richard's popinjays - those noblemen he was trying to impress next door, would have a fit. Their wives would likely faint, and never recover from the shock. William however, didn't bat an eyelid. Rather, he angled himself to face her as well, one leg still on hanging over the side, his other hooked before him, he reclined back against the headboard, back supported by soft pillows. "Yes, I am most upset with you," she began, though her voice was lacking the fire it had once held, when she had this discussion with Richard those weeks ago. "Beth," she said, voice hard as a rock.

"Agh, Jesus," William ran a hand over his dark queue. "Don't start, Harm -"

"Don't start? Christ, I've not begun but I tell you, my fine friend, I will not be silenced. You and your bloody conspiracies," she raged. "Did it ever occur to you to just bloody tell the truth for once?"

He gave her a flat look, eyes hard.

"No, I didn't think it had," she snorted. "Instead, you ask me to cover for you. I want it to go on record here and now, that if you had been screwing Linda behind Beth's back, I never would have kept your secrets," Harmony's voice was deep with anger. "But I knew you weren't. I knew you didn't want Beth to know Linda was in camp, because you were trying to protect Beth. You didn't want to upset her. You weren't hiding nothing, you just didn't want her to worry over it. And you were protecting Linda, and the baby. Well I say screw that and screw you. You should have bloody told her from the start. Beth is not so unreasonable that she would not have believed you -"

"Oh, yes, she showed precisely how reasonable she can be. You did not see her that day," William snorted bitterly.

"Of course she was unreasonable by then, when it gets as far as it did and she's left thinking the worst, because Linda set it up for her to think that way! If she'd known from the start then none of that would have happened -"

"She spread her legs and gave her virginity to another man, Harmony." He had expected this coldly delivered speech to silence her, to stop her in her tracks. Harmony was not so easily cowed, however.

"That is another discussion entirely!" She said, warming to her subject. "I am not preaching over who was right and who was wrong. I am saying, William, that you should never have asked me to lie to Beth! Because of you, she does not trust me. Because of you, she thinks I betrayed her! Because of you, she calls me false friend and you have no idea how much that kills me!" Filled with emotion, Harmony's eyes welled and her throat constricted. She had not meant to sob like a child, she'd meant to rage like a firebrand! But here she was, weeping into her hands, all the bitterness and anger she felt toward William, the helplessness and heartache over losing her friend. It did not help that being pregnant always bought her swiftly to the edge of her emotions. "It b-breaks m-my heart, to h-have lost her!"

"Agh, Jesus," William repeated, softly this time. Removing the glass from Harmony's hand, he set it on the side stand. In one smooth motion, he was moving aside and pulling her down to the pillows beside him, his arms around her. Cradling her as she wept, he whispered, "I am sorry. I know I was wrong to have included you. I will not ask it of you, never again."

"Good," she replied, slightly mollified, still sniffling. "Because I w-won't d-do it. I'll d-do whatever you ask when it r-relates to your d-duty but n-never again will I g-go against Beth. I v-vow it, William. I w-will not."

He nodded, eyeing her closely, and thumbed a tear from her cheek.

"She does not deserve a friend such as you," he declared, and he meant it.

"You should have been honest with her from the start," Harmony said, feeling numb now. "If not for that, she never would have fallen into Linda's trap."

"No Harmony," William cupped her chin with his fingers, he stared down at her intently. "She should have been honest with me."

"You're speaking of Banastre now, yes?" Harmony sighed. She pulled her sleeve down over her palm and pushed it against her eyes to dry her face.

"If you will permit me," he said primly, his voice taking on an edge. She had silenced him before when he had raised it. "And this, my dear friend, is where I take you to task."

Harmony lowered her eyes, she knew what was coming and she began plucking at some pilling on her gown.

"You knew about what she had done with Banastre," he said, accusing. "You knew all along."

"Only after you were married," Harmony said sullenly.

"It does not matter when you learned of it. You knew and you did not tell me. You should have told me, Harmony," he ground out through clenched teeth.

"To what end?" She frowned, meeting his pale, cold gaze. "To what purpose? I had no desire to cause trouble and I knew that was all it would cause. You were happy -"

"Our happiness was built on a lie," he shook his head. With Harmony no longer needing comfort, he removed his arm from around her, reached over her for the decanter and glass.

"Your happiness was built on love," she argued. "It is you she loved, William. Not Banastre. Have you ever stopped to ask yourself why she did it?"

"Why she spread her legs for Banastre? I think that much is clear."

"If you're suggesting that she has no virtue, you'd better find yourself a different audience entirely, for I will not suffer it." Harmony said. "Bawdy woman. Loose virtue. Whore. Easy insults to hurl about but they fall remarkably short of the mark. You have no idea what she was going through at the time. Low morals and poor virtue had nothing to do with it. Those are the easy way out. You don't have to face up to your own culpability when you fling those excuses about."

"My culpability?" William gasped. "How am I at fault for her bedding another man and then not telling me?"

"You had a part to play, whether you want to hear it or not. I think she fell in love with you the day she met you and you toyed with her, for days and days. Weeks."

"If you're going to blame that stupid wager on her later actions then I think it's you who needs to find a different audience."

"Not the wager, William. Her spiral downward along the road that landed her in Banastre's bed began the night you took her into Arthur Simms bedchamber and left evidence of your sporting all over the bed," she said. "The fallout from that… Good God, William. When people learned what she did with you, they were absolutely horrid to her. Even her own family. She was stuck here, in this house, with members of her own family who would not even speak to her. Except for Thomas, I think he was still nice. And her sisters. But her older brother? Her father? They did not hesitate to let her know that they were repulsed by her - no," she held up one hand for silence when he opened his mouth. "I need to tell you all of this, I need for you to at least try to see this from a different perspective, you can't hide behind the simple, easy excuses forever. Within her own home, she was ostracised. And when she went out there," she pointed toward outside. "It was even worse. Mothers, steering their children across the street so they would not have to cross her path. I don't know if she told you, but one time at church, every single woman in the congregation rose and walked out. They plotted it in advance and they said they would not return until the Redcoat whore was made to leave. Did she tell you?"

"No, she did not," he breathed.

"William, people can be so cruel. So deeply, deeply cruel. For days, weeks, she bore this - and all because she was so deeply in love with you that she allowed you to compromise her virtue, because being with you was more important than anything else in the world. I know, because I have felt the same, and I feel it daily, with Richard. I know exactly how she felt." He dropped his head back on the pillows and stared at the ceiling, but she knew he was listening. She plucked the glass from his fingers, drank to wet her throat, handed it back. "It was brutal, the way people treated her. Like a pack of wolves, attacking a wounded wolf, to drive it from their midst to protect the rest of the pack. Every day, she faced that. Lord, she was confused, lonely. No one in the world cared for her - not even her own father. Well, perhaps they did, but it certainly didn't show it at the time. Christ, if I was drowning like that, I'd seize the first hand offered to me, as well. Banastre…" Harmony shook her head. "He's a force to be reckoned with, when he puts on the charm. He comes along, with his smiles and his warmth, his feelings unchanged and suddenly she's caught up in a whirlwind of the contact and love she'd been starved for. He hosted a ball for her, William! He showered her with all the affection she'd been craving and here - here is where Banastre Tarleton should be taken to task and if he was here right now, I'd slap his face so hard… William, he got her drunk. Utterly soused. He knew she was at her weakest and instead of being a gentleman, he manipulated her. Pushing, pushing, prodding at her weaknesses, filling her with wine until she would not have been able to say no if her father had been in the next chamber."

William's lips were tight as he listened. "Very well. Let us concede that she was drunk, that first time. Let us just imagine for one moment that I would accept such an excuse," his eyes narrowed, he leaned forward, face intent. "What of the next morning, Harmony. And the following night? And the next few days, in this very house? You can not tell me she was drunk then!"

"Not on wine or ale, maybe. But as I said, you don't know what effect Banastre can have on a woman. Nor do I think you quite understand just how much we need each other. People, I mean. We need to be loved, by our families, our friends, our lovers. And when that love is withdrawn, when contempt replaces it, it's devastating. She was not drunk on wine the following morning. She was drunk on the attention and love he was bestowing upon her, every single moment he was in her company, where everyone else turned away and refused to have anything to do with her."

"I'm liking this argument less and less," he ground out.

"She was like a person drowning and Banastre was the only one that was reaching out to save her," Harmony said. "If you and she had never gone to Arthur Simms chamber - or, if you'd at least cleaned up after yourself, then she never would have been ostracised. She never would have been so desperately lonely that she would fall prey to Banastre's charms. Can you not see that?"

He shifted restlessly, his mouth set in disapproval.

"Besides, I hasten to remind you William, that the two of you weren't even engaged then. You were not promised. All she had from you was the vow that you were coming for her, and she never knew whether to take that as a threat or a proposal!"

"Christ, Harmony really?" He spat, tossing his head like an angry horse. "I was never going to hold to that, I never would have whipped her, though she bloody deserved it for spying and treason! She must have known that!"

"She did not know it," Harmony said, grinding her teeth. "She was afraid the whole time. Desperately terrified that she would never see you again and equally petrified that she would. A whipping with a riding crop is not something to be blasé about. She was afraid of seeing you; without half trying, you could frighten a lion, just with that stare of yours alone. She was quaking, William. The woman you love, and you had her quaking."

William paused, uncertain of himself. Her tone was accusing, scathing and he had the decency to look somewhat ashamed.

"She was alone. Completely, even in this house with her family, she was alone. And she was frightened of a lover she had no hope of reconciling herself with," Harmony began ticking off the points from her fingers, pressing her advantage now that she'd managed to push him into a corner. "Heartbroken over that lover, desperately yearning for him. Shunned by her friends - these fucking popinjays Richard is milling about with now!" She curled her lip. "Christ, I hate noblemen, with their hypocrisies! They treated Beth like dirt - men and women from her own parish, turning away from her on the street! Her own family, barely speaking to her. Her virtue was questioned by one and all - because of your actions. And here she was, stuck in this place with everyone being cold toward her, and she with no hope that she would ever be with you! And then in swoops Banastre fucking Tarleton!" Harmony paused, she was breathing heavily by now, her blood truly on fire. "William, I was not joking, if he was standing in this room right now I'd slap him so hard across the face his ears would ring for a month! It's his doing, the conniving bastard. He should have left her alone! He knew she was a virgin! A girl with standing, with so much to lose! Seduction. I'm so tired of you bastards seducing women and reducing us to nothing, and all so you can get your end away!"

William stared at her, face unreadable. Harmony shoved her hair behind her ears, her fingers trembling with pent up fury. He could have taken her to task for calling him a bastard - she'd lumped him in with Banastre and his kind, after all. Then again, he had done his fair share of seducing without a care of how it affected the girl, high or low. "You must assume a certain amount of blame here, William," she said, voice marginally calmer.

"Even if I were to accept all of your arguments, and I will admit that they do have some merit and yes, I can see now that what happened at the Simms was the catalyst for the rest. But she should have told me before she married me," he said stubbornly. "That is what it comes down to, Harmony."

"Are you joking?" She asked. "William, how could she have ever told you? When could she have told you? When you were first reunited? At the wedding twenty minutes later? At what point could she have said 'oh, by the by…'. She was terrified of losing you again, William. Terrified. That's why she didn't tell you," Harmony shook her head. "Should she have told you? It would have been more honest, if she had, but Christ, I never would have either," Harmony snorted.

"You would have lived a lie?" He asked, startled.

"It's not living a lie," Harmony groaned, exasperated. She shifted until she was on her knees with her legs folded beneath her. "She loved you. She never would have betrayed you. She would have gone to the end of her days, honouring you, devoted to you. Living a lie would be if you had married her in good faith only to have her go along and tumble every fellow who cocked an eyebrow at her," she raised her hand, knowing exactly what he was about to say but before he could get a word in edgewise, she said firmly, "the only reason she's off with Banastre now is because her head is all screwed on wrong and everything is all over the place! She thinks you had an affair with Linda, because Linda made sure Beth thought it, and she was able to make sure Beth thought it, because you never told Beth the truth about Linda's return! Agh!" Harmony threw her arms wide and glared at the ceiling. "Men. So damned stupid."

William said nothing. Harmony's words troubled him, tugged at his common sense, forcing him to doubt when before, he'd been so certain he was entirely in the right. With just a few well chosen arguments, Harmony had bought him low, detailing how hard it had been for Beth during their months apart - a thing he had already known some of, but not all, it seemed. And the way she described Banastre's part in it… William curled his fingers around the glass, any tighter and it would have shattered. Banastre. He was not a fierce hunter - he was more like a scavenger, hunting weak prey. And Beth had been at her lowest ebb, William was forced to agree Harmony on that score. Banastre had discovered how wounded she was and, like a hyena, he'd chased her down until she was too weak and soused and confused to refuse him. His fury with Beth had not waned in the face of Harmony's arguments, but his rage and bitterness toward Banastre had struck an entirely new peak.

"William," Harmony called softly, seeing his face had gone rigid, a mask of stone. His eyes flickered toward her, but he glared blindly, lips tight. "William, would you have married her, if she'd confessed all of this first?"

The question startled him; not out of his anger, but it surprised him enough that he turned to her finally.

"I would have been too angry," he shook his head.

"So can you understand now why she didn't tell you?" She asked gently. "As I said, it was not honest, her keeping such a secret. But telling you would have meant losing you again and she could not have gone through that again. She chose you over her family, William. Does that not count for anything?"

"I don't know," he sighed, draping his arm over his eyes.

"If she'd told you, and if you'd had time to think about it, would you have married her then? A month later or something," she cocked her head, studying his stony expression. "Or perhaps a decade."

He scoffed softly, though there was no humour in it.

"I do not know, Harmony," he said finally. "I can not answer you. I just don't know."

"You made a dogs breakfast of things back in Charlestown and you and she will be feeling the effects of that for decades to come. Yet she forgave you it all and married you anyway. I would like to think that, had you known of Banastre, and had you been aware of how that came to happen, you would have forgiven Beth and married her, too."

"I just don't know," he shook his head slowly.

"And, I'd like to think," Harmony pressed, voice deceptively soft now, "that now you now I've given you the full account, that despite her very big blunder, you will remember that there was a time when you were not such an upstanding fellow yourself, and you will forgive your wife, as she has forgiven you."

William snorted again. "You drive a man hard, Harm. I can see why Richard can't get enough of you." His tone insinuated, Harmony understood the double meaning.

"Don't you dare start joking and flirting, this is what got you in trouble in the first place," despite her words, a small smile pulled at her lips. "That, and your damned fine looks."

"Now who's flirting?" He asked, eyebrow arched. "And you in my bed, too. What, my dear Harmony, will Richard say?"

"I don't think he'd pay it any more mind than Beth would," Harmony said. William was still seated, but Harmony shifted until she was laying on her side, head nestled on the pillows. "You and I… What is it with you and me, that we can be like this…" She waved around the bed chamber, gesturing toward the closed door, the bed, the decanter of brandy, her night clothes. "With no intentions toward one another whatsoever?"

"Speak for yourself," he grouched. "I recall a time when I wanted you as badly as Richard ever did. I'd tumble you in a heart beat, Harmony, even now."

"Really?" She asked, voice serious, gazing up at him earnestly. He stared down at her for several moments, then heaved a sigh.

"No, I don't suppose I would," he admitted, nostrils flaring as he heaved another sullen sigh. He placed the glass aside, then lay down the same as she was, facing her.

"I knew that," she smiled, triumphant. "Beth has changed you."

He gave a non-comittal grunt.

"Do you miss her, William?" She asked.

"You've seen the table over there, no doubt. That should be answer enough," he replied, voice grim. Harmony pushed herself up onto her elbow to stare into the corner of the room, her eyes landing on the table there. Which held several of Beth's personal belongings, including the small portrait of her. Harmony's lips parted, eyes wide as she turned back to him. He said nothing further, eyes hard and not meeting hers. She laid back down, sensing this was as much of a profession as she was going to get.

"Will you take her back?" She asked, resting her hands beneath her cheek.

"She doesn't want to come back to me, Harmony," he rolled onto his back and stared up at the canopy over head.

"What if you're mistaken? Would you take her back, should she want to?"

"Christ woman, you just keep pressing me!" He barked, his voice echoing off the walls.

"These are things you'll want to think about, is all," she replied. "Beth will know the truth soon. Her whole reason for leaving was based on her belief that you were unfaithful. What do you think she'll say, William? When she realises she was duped by Linda, that you were faithful all along?"

"I suspect it will cut her most deeply," he said, not a trace of pity in his voice. Indeed, he appeared to be smiling slightly. "With her traipsing off with Banastre as she is."

"Linda's doing," Harmony accused.

"It's always someone else's fault with you, isn't it?" He shot her a dark look. "When it comes to Beth. She can do no wrong. It's Banastre's fault. It's Linda's fault. It's my fault. Yes, we are all to blame but she must be held accountable also. She bedded another man, and then did not tell me. And yes, Linda baited us both, but Beth's actions - all of her actions - are her own. Her refusal to listen to me, her screaming down the house, declaring she was leaving me… No body told her to go off with Banastre."

"Yes, you did!" Harmony was so astonished, her voice came out a squeak. "Richard told me! You told Banastre to take her, that if she stayed here you didn't know what you'd do to her! You kicked her from her own house!"

William was quiet for a time, silently contemplating Harmony's words.

"She was going anyway," he said finally. "She was packing her bags while I was trying to reason with her. She would not listen to me. After months of marriage, she just would not… She didn't trust me. When it came down to it, she did not trust me. So quick to believe the worst…"

"You should not have sent her away," Harmony said, gentle now. "She would have calmed down. When she was calm, she could have been reasoned with. A day or two and Linda's lies would have been exposed and Beth would have been here to learn the truth, rather than off disgracing herself with Banastre."

"Perhaps. There was still the matter of her and Banastre's little tryst, however," William said. "We were both too angry to be reasoned with that day."

Harmony stilled, her breath arrested in her throat. She stared, eyes growing wider. She pushed herself up on to one elbow.

"Does that mean," she began, pausing to lick her lips. "Does that mean you've been reasoned with now?"

"Oh, Harmony," William shook his head. "You expect so much from me. You think you can swoop in here -"

"You pulled me in," she said dryly.

"- Speak your fine words, debating for Beth and that voila," he snapped his fingers, "all my anger will just, vanish? That I'll see it from Beth's side, and all will be fixed? It will take me time to consider what you've said, before I could even think of answering that question."

"You will think on it, though?" She asked, pleading voice filled with hope.

"I will," he replied, nodding. "I will."

Smug as the cat who caught the mouse, she nestled into the pillows again.

"Now, will you tell me what happened, how you came to be here?" He asked, impatient for them to cease their discussion about Beth.

"Well, as to that," she began. "I'll give you the cut down version, if you don't mind. It's late and I'm sure Richard will return soon. Besides, I truly am sick of the whole thing… anyways, what happened was," Harmony continued to speak, detailing the events as she and Cilla had several hours earlier to Richard. William's eyes narrowed and his face became hard, when hearing of Linda's part in what had taken place in the mercantile at Pembroke. It took much longer than she thought to get the story out, with William's constant stream of questions. She should have just started at the beginning and told it in full, rather than trying to give him the piecemeal version, for he kept making her backtrack until the full story was told anyway.

"That damned bitch," he ground out, lips white about the mouth.

"Cilla? Oh, I don't like her overly much, I'll admit, but she did help me and -"

"Not Cilla," William shot Harmony a sharp glance, and she understood then.

"Oh. Linda," she said.

"Yes. By Christ," he held up one fist before his face, fingers crushing as though he imagined he had Linda's neck in his grasp. "I will find her. I will hunt the bitch down. She must answer for it, Harmony. All of it. She must -"

"William," she cut in tremulously. "Linda is still here."

He jerked around so sudden, his expression so fierce that she yelped and drew back. "What the devil do you mean?"

"She returned here -"

"You just told me that you told her to leave!" He raged.

"Yes. And she went to the Kent's and packed her belongings, then she suddenly realised she had no where to go. So she went to Private Cox -"

"Ohh, Jesus Christ no," William was shaking his head slowly, there was murder in his gaze. "Don't you dare tell me…"

"She offered him the money you'd given to her; and he accepted it. They were married that very afternoon," Harmony finished, fingers clutching her night robe over her chest. "William? William."

He was staring past her, face a mask of death; one lip curled, eyes blazing, nostrils flaring. He was so still, barely moving except for the rise and fall of his chest.

"Look on the bright side," she whispered, trying to ease him. "At least you don't have to hunt her down now."

William's eyes focused on Harmony and a grim laugh began to issue from his lips.

"Yes, you are correct there," he said, voice low and filled with meaning. "I won't have to hunt her down…"

"What will you do to her?" she asked, swallowing hard.

"The same that was done to Emily Wilkins," he replied. "Only with a cat o nine tails."

"Oh, you can't!" Harmony lurched up.

"And why not? After she baited Beth, the destruction she wrought there! Beth is no innocent, but Linda! She lied to Miss Cordell about her and I. And she knew Beth was watching when she kissed me and embraced me and put my hand on her stomach. It was a deliberate attack on my marriage. On me! And then she attacked you in the mercantile! No, Harmony, she'll pay for it all!" He bared his teeth. "Why would you of all people argue against her receiving just punishment?" He asked, biting each word off.

"The baby, William," Harmony said desperately. "That's why. Lashing her, and with a whip like that! It could bring the babe on and she's not anywhere near close enough to birth safely. It could die, William. Your child could die."

Breathing heavily, he struggled for calm. Eventually, it came to him and he lay back, breathing slowly now, hands folded across his chest. "Very well. The flogging will wait until she has given birth." He expected further protest, Harmony was a gentle woman most of the time and she had Linda had been friends once. She surprised him by saying nothing at all. Time flagged, with only the noises from the camp outside intruding.

"Your child," he said at length. "Can a woman feed two children at once, Harm?"

"Ah… I don't know. What do you mean?" She frowned.

"Never mind," he waved his hand, dismissing the question. "Lord, what an evening, hmm? I should never have left this room. First the dinner and then you. I am utterly wrung out."

"Are your wounds hurting you?" She asked. "The bullet, and the whipping?"

"He told you!" William flared. "I explicitly told him to tell bloody no one!"

"I'm not no one," Harmony sounded amused. "Yes, he told me. He's quite confused over you and Martin, you know."

"He can stay that way," William said, put out with Richard for not keeping his confidence.

"You won't tell me about this accord you've reached? That's what Richard called it. An accord with Benjamin Martin."

"We are family," William shrugged. "The accord is that we shall continue to battle on as we have, but when the war is over, no matter who wins, we will not forget that we are family. One of us is bound to be bought low, there can only be one victor. So the victor will help the defeated one to rise. In the meantime, Martin has made it his mission to have Beth removed from Banastre's bed before gossip can take hold and ruin us all. She is to be taken to Mrs. Selton, wherever she is."

"You promised to consider my words though," Harmony reminded him.

"And I shall," William nodded. "Christ, must we always come back to her? No more, Harm. Do not ask about her or her family or anything that might bring us back around to Beth again."

"Very well… How was the dinner tonight?" Harmony broached, careful and curious.

"Boring. Dull. I wanted it to be over," he replied.

"Yes, yes. I got that feeling earlier," she laughed, then sobered. Cautiously, she asked, not quite meeting his gaze, "how well do your superiors receive Cilla?"

William sighed. Pitying Harmony, he wound his fingers through hers. "They've always received her well, Harm."

"They like her?" She sounded hurt.

"She knows how to charm them, she's been born to it. Raised in deportment and giving airs. Using a quiet, soft voice, the illusion of a perfect, soft female. Complimenting them, laughing elegantly at their quips… Yes, they liked her. Stupid fools; they loved her."

"Oh," she looked dejected, but there was nothing William could say to comfort her. She laughed softly, it sounded forced. "I have to say, when I saw her this evening before they left… She looked…" Harmony trailed off, her smiled slipping away despite her attempt at levity. Cilla had looked… Magnificent. All done up in her finery; a silk sack-dress complimenting her form exquisitely… Golden hair elegantly styled, piled on top of her head, covered with a jeweled cap of lace… She had looked so elegant, the perfect image of how a Major's wife should be. Harmony had never realised Cilla's figure was so fine, her face so perfectly beautiful, before that moment.

"Even Richard complimented her," she forced another laugh. William saw right through it. "And you should have seen Brownlow and Dalton, when they came out of their rooms. I am sure their mouths went dry. They never looked at me like that… And I've never owned a dress like that, even with the lovely gowns Richard has had made for me."

"Nor does Cilla own it," William snorted. "That is Beth's dress and when I saw her wearing it this evening, I almost demanded she remove it."

"Oh."

"Harmony, you are not comparing yourself to her, are you? And finding yourself wanting?" William asked, incredulous. "You've looked in the mirror, have you not? Did I not just say how much I desired you, back in the day? You are one of the most lovely creatures I'd ever laid eyes upon."

"Thank you," she smiled, feeling somewhat better. "It's just… I'll never have the opportunity to wear such a dress as that… I'll never be able to match her, not when she's able to wear all that finery. Do you know what I mean? I don't mean to sound vain but I do know I'm somewhat comely. But Cilla, tonight… She shone, William. As bright as the sun."

"You don't need that frippery to shine like the sun, Harmony," he said, the simple compliment making her feel quite a bit better. She smiled and hefted a sigh.

"Old flirt," she laughed. "If you keep speaking like that, I might be tempted by you after all. Oh, why didn't Richard make his excuses and just come home when you did? He could be in my bed right now, rather me being in yours."

"Yes, you were very quick to slip into mine, I think we should question your constancy," he quipped. Before she could give another pointed reminder that it was he who pulled her into the chamber, he continued, "there are quite a few questions I'd like to ask Richard, regarding this evening. Such as, why he failed to inform me you were here, and the manner of how you came to be here. And - most importantly - how he failed to inform me that Linda was still in camp. I will definitely be asking him that, when next I see him."

"Don't damage him too much, I need him intact," Harmony laughed softly. William laughed despite himself.

"I just fail to understand how he could not have reported any of this to me by now. He's had all afternoon to come and tell me…" He trailed off, suddenly realising exactly where Richard would have spent his afternoon. "Oh…" He nodded, understanding now. Richard had been in Harmony's arms, though William had not known it at the time. He had not even known Harmony had returned. "Still," he grouched, "he should have untangled himself from you for long enough to inform me of Linda. I will have words for him tomorrow."

"How much longer do you think he'll be? Did he at least say that he'll come along shortly?" Harmony asked, pining for Richard.

"No, he did not. I believe he will stay until the end," William shook his head. "He can not afford to let this opportunity pass him by, not when it is going so well for him. O'Hara has held quite a high measure of disgust toward Bordon for some time now, but that appears to be passing, as of this evening. Richard will want to push his advantage, he'll want to continue nurturing O'Hara's good will."

"That keeps coming up, you know," Harmony frowned. "That Richard was in disgrace with General O'Hara. While I am glad that has changed, I'd sore like to know what Richard did to deserve it. What happened, William? What did Richard do to earn O'Hara's disgust?" She asked, puzzled.

William gave a start and, thinking of what happened with Cilla in the dungeons below the Provost; he paused, growing suddenly tense.

"It's a military matter, I am not permitted to speak of it," he said smoothly after only a slight hesitation. He could not very well inform Harmony of the truth of how Richard had earned O'Hara and Cornwallis' anger and the things he'd done to Cilla.

"Very well," she said. She would not hesitate to press him in his personal life, but she understood never to press the Officers regarding military matters. William relaxed, the tension easing from him. That confused her, he should have known she would never pester him in affairs related to his duty. "I know you can't tell me what trouble he got himself into with the General, but can you at least tell me how he's managed to gain O'Hara's respect again? Was it because he was sent out to find you, and he succeeded?"

William sat up, took a sip of brandy and handed her the glass. "You may not enjoy hearing this, but the way he was seen to be conducting himself toward his wife this evening has gone along way to restoring him to the General's good graces."

Harmony sat up, eyebrows arched. He was right, she had not liked hearing it. She drank back the rest of the brandy, and the glass had been quite full.

"Really now," she said, giving him a flat look. It was not a question. "Is that because of what you were saying before? That Cilla knows how to charm them."

William suspected there was more to it than that. O'Hara had been watching Richard and Cilla with an eagle eye, both at lunch and then again at dinner. William suspected that the General had been looking for fractures in their marriage, signs that not all was well. He had seen none. The way the pair engaged with one another; no snide comments with pointed barbs, no reluctance to sit with one another. Each listening when the other spoke, the conversation had flowed easily between them and had enhanced the gaiety of the other guests, adding to everyone's enjoyment of the evening. That had certainly come across to O'Hara, who - William thought - must have been quite pleased to discern that Richard was treating his wife well. That was the crux of it. O'Hara was pleased to see a Gentleman Officer in his ranks, who had committed a vile crime against a woman and was then forced to marry her, was treating his wife with respect and even affection. William had seen Richard squeeze Cilla's hand at one stage - though he would not dare repeat this to Harmony now. It was during a moment when the guests attention was drawn to an Officer who was in the middle of an amusing tale and therefore, were not taking much notice of Richard and Cilla. The intimate squeeze was not done for show. It was a spontaneous display of affection on Richard's part and Cilla had accepted it graciously, with no jerking away. William had seen it.

And so had O'Hara. Cilla was a vastly altered creature to the one O'Hara had met all those months ago, the cringing, weeping girl who had begged to not be forced to marry a monster. Then, she had resembled a terrified doe, trembling all over, because she was being forced to remain with the wolf who had wounded her. Now, she had learned to live with the wolf and she was frightened no longer. She was being treated well and while Richard could not be in love with her, he certainly appeared to be respectful of her, even affectionate toward her. Because of all of that - because it was clearly evident that Bordon had been putting hard work into his marriage, O'Hara's anger and disgust seemed to be lessening.

"Yes, Cilla knows how to charm them," William said now, keeping the rest to himself. "I have to admit that she does have a way about her. She had one Officer, a nobleman born, a fellow who despises most Colonials, regaling her with his life story and handing her sweetmeats though he had to rise from his chair to fetch them. The others were the same, falling over themselves just to gain her attention. And as the wine flowed, several of them tried to out do one another by singing to her of her beauty - I could barely distinguish one word from the other but I believe they were supposed to be odes. Richard joined in and honestly, that was when I decided I'd had enough. You know how well Richard sings."

"I would have left too," she quipped and William laughed again. Carefully speaking as though she did not care at all about the answer, she asked, "the others tried to out do one another by singing of her beauty, hmm? And what did Richard sing to her about?"

"Oh, he was singing of the same; something about her eyes being limpid pools of… something… I couldn't make out what," William waved his hand as though it didn't matter. Then he saw how decidedly pale Harmony's face became as it drained of all colour, and he understood the trap he had just fallen into, the trap she'd laid for him. Her eyes welled with tears. Damned vixen, she'd led him into confiding that her lover sang an ode to his wife's beauty. And what a damned fool he himself was, for falling for it. "Damn and blast it, Harmony," he snapped, both irritated with and sorry for her. "I don't know what is between them, but I do know that he is not in love with her. He loves you, you damned little schemer. Leading me in to that…" He drew a deep breath.

"I know he is not," she admitted. "He loves me. But it still hurts, that he'd sing to her of her beauty. He's never sung to me of mine."

"With his voice, you should be bloody grateful," William muttered. Despite herself, Harmony laughed.

It was the sound of the carriage returning, the crunching of gravel and horses hoofs and grooms voices that alerted them that Richard had finally returned. Feeling not very sure of herself at all, Harmony rose from William's bed. She glanced over at the table which William had made into a small shrine for Beth, and she prayed that some of what she had said had reached him. Rounding the bed, she leaned down and kissed his brow.

"Get some sleep, will you?" She said.

"I intend to," he replied, throwing his legs over the side. He would undress now, and climb into bed properly. "I would have been asleep already, had you not barged in here and disturbed my peace."

Harmony laughed softly and padded from the room.

"…of course I will! First thing tomorrow, I promise," Cilla said to General Hoffman, who had was leaning heavily on his walking stick while kissing Cilla's hand in farewell.

"I look forward to it, pray don't be late," he said.

"I shan't. Thank you so much for this evening. You are all so lovely and jovial," she said to the other adjutants who had come to see her and Bordon off. "I don't think I've laughed so much in months!"

"I don't think you've had much reason to," O'Hara said, his eyes meeting Richard's, who tensed all over. "But perhaps matters are getting better, now. Perhaps we can begin to bury some affairs in the past, bury them deep where they belong." He saw the loosening around Richard's shoulders, some of the tension easing from the Major. "Bordon, perhaps you will come with Mrs. Bordon tomorrow?"

Something eased in Richard's expression, he looked like a child being handed a brand new toy. He bowed. "Thank you, Sir. I would be honoured."

"Well of course he is coming," General Hoffman said, deep voice soused and rumbling as he looked at O'Hara. "I thought that was given."

O'Hara said nothing, he merely held Richard's eyes, silently conveying that it absolutely had not been a given, that Bordon would receive any invitation from O'Hara. It was not lost on Bordon, that O'Hara was personally extending the invitation now.

"You've quite won them all over, wife," Richard said, taking her hand and placing it on his arm. He was still speaking to her but it was to O'Hara he looked at. "It seems if I am to advance, it shall be through you, Mrs. Bordon."

O'Hara nodded a 'and don't you forget it', then he kissed Cilla's fingers.

"Until tomorrow, Mrs. Bordon," O'Hara said, his voice softening.

The farewells did not end there - for the next five minutes, Generals and Majors kissed Cilla's hand and traded jokes with her and Bordon, the hilarity picking up again. Cilla was laughing as Bordon handed her up into the carriage. Bordon bowed at the Generals, followed his wife into the cabin, and the door was closed behind him.

Within the confines several lanterns burned in their fixtures, casting a soft glow upon the occupants. Cilla reached past Bordon, waved through the window, still laughing, as the carriage began to pull away. She dropped back again and her laughter dwindled away.

"What a night," Richard said, still quite intoxicated by it all, and not just from the fine wine. He hadn't been welcome in such grand company in a very long time and it left him feeling quite heady, to be welcome once again. And by O'Hara himself! He had had no choice but to invite Bordon to the dinner, decorum had dictated that invitation, not choice. But it was entirely his choice to invite Bordon to tomorrows breakfast. Finally, perhaps, after all this time, things might finally begin to return to normal. And he had Cilla to thank for it, for all of it - this he knew. He turned to her now. "Oh, when he started to sing," he began to laugh, remembering one of the adjutants launched into song - he had been about to jump up onto the table until O'Hara - laughing - called him to order. There wasn't a noblemen or Officer at the party who was not at least a little soused before the night came to an end. That adjutant though - he'd been about to jump onto the table! Richard laughed again.

Cilla made a sound that could have been taken for laughter. Richard's own began to die away, he moved with the swaying of the carriage as he studied her. She was staring at the lantern, the little flame flickering with the glass. Her smile was somewhat fixed, it was not the easy, natural thing he'd seen earlier.

Had it been easy and natural earlier? Was if this, right here and right now, what if this was the truth and her joviality of earlier had all been for show? He put his hand on her arm and turned her to face him.

"Cilla, were you just pretending back there?" He asked, incredulous and a little hurt. "I thought… You were laughing and enjoying yourself… I thought you were. But now… You're so quiet now and… I can't help but think that… it was all for show."

"I…" she shook her head, then averting her gaze, she shrugged.

"Cilla! I thought… I thought you were enjoying yourself!" He repeated, adding carefully, "with me. I though you were enjoying yourself with me."

They hadn't left one another's side all evening, except to pass water. Richard had known Cilla had a sense of humour but he'd delighted in the grandness of it, her little jokes and quips, her timing, she had him and those seated near them laughing until his stomach hurt, and he hadn't been feigning it.

"Back there… is that not… is that not truly us? Is this truly us?" He asked, gesturing to the change that had come over her.

"I don't know, Richard. I don't know what is us. This is only the second time we've ever been together like this at an official gathering." The first was Beth and William's ball and Cilla had only remained at Bordon's side a short while before falling in with Banastre for the rest of the evening. "I just… I don't know what you want me to say."

He stared into the darkness for a while, then turned back to her. "That you weren't pretending for the sake of the others. That's what I want you to say. I really enjoyed myself, Cilla. I thought you did too. With me. I feel like you've lured me into this false sense of security but it was just that, false."

She held his gaze a moment, then turned away.

"Was it a performance? I know you'll do as you must to protect our marriage and make it look like a true one, you've already proved that. But I just… I didn't think I would be duped by your efforts also."

"I just don't know," she said, turning back to him. "I did enjoy myself. When I was there, with the others, and the wine was flowing and the laughter. It was fun, it's been a long time for me."

"And for me," he said. He'd been ostracised and condemned by O'Hara for months now. "Cilla. Do you really think I would have hurt you if you hadn't helped Harmony?"

"I don't know!" She said. "And frankly, I don't think you do, either."

"I'll never hurt you again, I'll never do… that thing I did… ever again. Especially for turning away my mistress, I would not expect you, my wife, to look after my lover!"

"And if my not looking after her had led to her being taken by her husband? Raped? Killed? And if you found out that I had turned her away, that I'd refused to bring her to safety, knowing what might happen to her? What then, Richard?"

"I…" He shook his head.

"You don't know," she said. "There's a monster lurking within you -"

"Cilla…"

"No, there is, Richard. You unleashed it on me once, because my father suggested Sumter take Harmony and you were in a rage because of what was done to her at my father's behest. Who is to say you won't unleash it on me again? You just don't know!" She slumped back into the seat. "And now we'll never know, and I'm glad for that."

"You did not only bring her to Fresh Water because you were worried about what I might do if you hadn't. You did it because you knew how it felt, to be pregnant and turned away and terrified and you could not let another person go through that."

"Except for Linda Stokes," Cilla said with venom.

"Well, she showed a vindictive streak I did not think her capable of. Cil, my point is, you did it because you're a good person. Empathetic, kind. You're amiable, too. You're quick witted, charming, I've been learning so much about you and despite the awful thing I did - the reason we had to be together - I find you are someone I want in my life. And tonight, you really had me believing that I am someone you want in yours."

She opened her mouth but no words came out.

"Perhaps I'm asking too much of you," he sighed. "Considering how we came to be married. I just… I had really thought we'd made strides. I wanted tonight to be real, I didn't want it to all be one big performance."

"It wasn't, not entirely," she said, staring at her hands. "I did enjoy myself, I wasn't pretending. I just… now we're alone, it feels different. When we're in Company, we've got them to distract us from our awful beginning. I can forget it all and have a few wines and laugh along with everyone. And enjoy every moment of it. But then it all comes to an end and we're suddenly alone and… I don't really know how to feel, now."

"Well, we don't have any wine and our company is our own, but we can still laugh, can't we?" He asked her and she lifted her eyebrows. "Maybe, if we share enough happy moments, eventually they will outweigh the awful ones." She looked doubtful and he decided to be playful, rather than morose. "Come on, what about when Major Thomson bumped into the mirror?"

Cilla threw back her head and laughed. "Oh my God, he was so soused, he thought he'd bumped into another person, he said 'oh my, I'm so sorry!' I think he was so drunk, he never worked out that it was his own reflection!"

Richard chortled right along with her.

"And General Stevens spilling his wine all over the table, and then trying to use General O'Hara's cravat to dry it!"

As Richard launched into another 'and what about…' Cilla could barely breathe for the laughter

Harmony took up her position of earlier, standing just around the corridor, peering around the edge, down the dim hallway for Richard to appear. She heard them before she saw them, his deep rumble and Cilla's bright laugh.

"…Did you see that fellow," she was giggling, her words wafting to Harmony from the stairs and down the hall. "I thought I'd die of laughter when he straddled that coat stand to mimic riding and waved General Hoffman's walking stick like a riding crop! He almost smashed poor Mrs. Ferguson's porcelain vase. She got that imported from China!"

"He almost cracked open my head with it," Richard said. "And that was imported from England."

Cilla's laugher chimed down the hall, she was visible now, standing at the top of the stairs, her hands pressed to her stomach. A chuckling Richard stepped up beside her, placed one hand on her back and the other on her arm, and helped her along the hall. Harmony watched, distraught.

"Oh, God, that was funny," Cilla could barely get the words out. "Imported from England!" Another giggle erupted, Cilla dabbed at her cheeks with a handkerchief. Harmony's eyes landed on Richard, who was laughing along with his wife, his eyes bright and merry, dancing in the lantern light. "I never knew until tonight, what a whit you have," Cilla complimented, words still interrupted with laughter. "I am going to be so terribly sore tomorrow. Major Dick," she said this last with a mischievous voice. Harmony froze, a chill working through her. She called Richard Major Dick. That was her name for him!

"Oh, don't you start! I had enough of that from O'Hara's adjutants!" Richard bemoaned and Cilla giggled again. They had reached their door and looked to be on the verge of going in together. Richard was facing the end of the hall, however, and he saw Harmony as she rounded the corner, revealing herself.

"Oh, the first time when Hoffman said it, I didn't understand why the others were laughing," Cilla said, her voice high and merry. "Dick is short for Richard after all but then I realised it also means…" She trailed off, finally noticing Harmony. Cilla's amused laughter cut off so abruptly, as though it had never been. She stopped dead, just outside her chamber, staring at Harmony. Richard's hands dropped away from his wife so swiftly, he looked like a guilty boy standing there, eyes on Harmony, as if he'd done something naughty.

Both women held their breath, waiting for Richard to do something. By rights, he should have opened the door and escorted his wife into their chamber, where he should bed down with her for the night. It was what he should do, and Cilla had certainly been expecting it, until she saw Harmony standing there as if she'd been waiting. Until her husbands hands had jerked back from her as if her touch suddenly burned him. There was a tension to him, an uncertainty, he was poised and unsure what to do. Cilla watched him, barely breathing. Harmony watched him, barely breathing.

Apologetic eyes on Cilla, he bowed low, reached past her to open the door, took hold of her wrist and bought her hand to his lips, then he released her and began to walk toward Harmony. Harmony smiled, she took his arm when he offered it, and the two began to turn around the corner.

"Please, Richard," Cilla called to him, taking a step toward him, all amusement gone. He hesitated, turned back to her. Harmony kept her gaze averted, refusing to look. Her eyes on Richard, Cilla pleaded, "don't stay after dawn? Please? The servants…" She trailed off, knowing no more was needed. He nodded, then continued on with his mistress, leaving his wife to manage on her own.

Cilla's chamber was warm and well lit. She closed the door behind her and leaned back on it, hands pressed to her aching stomach, it was sore after knowing the joy of laughter for the whole evening. Harmony's appearance in the hallway had put paid to that. Of course Richard would retire with his mistress, now that she was living there. She stared at her bed, wondering what she had thought was going to happen.

Cilla's daily routine had changed drastically with the departure of Banastre and Beth, but her nights had always been the same - she retired to her bed with Richard. Who, two weeks ago, had started to curl up next to her for warmth. She'd found she liked that - the warmth, the touch of another person when she had neither. But with Harmony living in the house, Cilla's nights were to alter too, it seemed.

After all Richard's talk about wanting their strengthening affiliation to be a genuine one. She stared at the bed and shook her head, feeling awfully confused. It had been a lovely evening spent in elegant company, the wine and laughter flowing. Richard had been by her side throughout most of it and she had allowed herself to forget the horrors of their coming together, to enjoy her evening. She had cooled somewhat when they were alone in the carriage but he'd managed to draw her back out, she had been shocked to learn that she could enjoy his company even one on one.

And he had certainly enjoyed hers. He had started the conversation and there was so still much to talk about, he should still be with her now, reminiscing about the evening with her. Climbing into the bed with her, chatting until it was time for sleep. Then snuggling down with her, his arms around her as they drifted off to sleep.

That was their custom now.

She stared at the bed. What had she expected would happen? It never had occurred to her that he would sleep elsewhere, even though Harmony was there and it had been ridiculous to think it. Still, she had thought that Richard would stay with her, Cilla, and that they would lay in one another arms as they had every night for the last few weeks.

But why would he lay with her for warmth, when he could lay with Harmony for so much more?

Cilla pushed herself off the door and began to undress herself.

A knock on the door a short while later proved to be Vickie, coming to help her with her stays and the pins in her hair. Vickie said nothing about the chamber, empty of Cilla's husband, though she would have known Richard had returned. Cilla's face blazed crimson and she said not a word to her maid, not a single word. Vickie moved about the chamber, extinguishing many of the candles, leaving only a few alight. The room was plunged into almost darkness. Cilla climbed into her very cold bed, and pulled the covers over her. She turned her head to stare at the place Richard usually slept.

Before, back in the days when she preferred him sleeping elsewhere, she would take up the whole bed on the nights he was gone from it. And tonight, he was going to be gone from it. Still, she reached over his side of the bed to peel back the corner of the blanket, leaving an opening for him to climb in beside her. She left room for him there, as she laid on her side, with only the memory of his body had curled around hers to warm her now.