Chapter 121 - An Unfortunate Visit:

Richard finished his morning ablutions. Though he had tried his best to dress quietly so as not to disturb his slumbering wife, he knew he'd made enough noise to wake the woman lying so awkwardly on the chaise, yet still Cilla did not stir. He glanced over at her, frowning as he cleaned his razor blade on a soft towel. She did look awkward, one leg akimbo out of the blankets, her neck strained at an odd angle. She had complained of a headache the previous evening, perhaps it had plagued her throughout the night. At times, when he suffered terrible aches, he found it was more comfortable to sleep elsewhere and in a more upright position. Only then could he gain the relief needed for sleep. That must have been it, Cilla had been suffering from a terrible headache, which drove her from their bed to sleep on the chaise. God bless her, she hadn't complained once during the dinner with O'Hara and the other aristocrats. Brave and noble girl, to put on her best smile and continue to charm the other gents and ladies, even while inside, her head was aching. He really did owe her, to endure such discomforts for his benefit. Relations between Bordon and O'Hara were getting stronger by the day. Because of Cilla, he knew. Of course, he had had a very large part to play in rising himself back to his former status; his own conduct of late had set him on the road to earning O'Hara's forgiveness. But he still would have had quite a way to go on that road, if not for Cilla helping him to present a united front and a respectable marriage.

It was true that she would benefit from his elevated status; which might be her main reason for not merely co-operating with him, but for helping to steer the helm right at his side. It could have gone so differently, he reflected as he sat there, watching his sleeping wife. She might have been so filled with hate and bitterness toward him for his terrible atrocity, that she could well have avenged herself by destroying him, not caring that she was destroying herself also. She could have bought him so low. Just a few words in the right ear, revealing his crime to someone who was not so willing to cover it up as O'Hara and Cornwallis had been. Or she might have taken the less subtle route and denounce him publicly. He would have been plunged then, O'Hara would have been forced to expel him from the army and he might have been forced to return home in utter disgrace, never to set foot in Society again. His family would likely have disowned him. His income and personal wealth would have seen him in good stead for several years, but with no one wanting to do business with him, how could he have built on that wealth? He might have been a pauper in less than ten years. But in taking that road, Cilla's own destruction would have been secured, for she was his wife and would be right at his side, living on the edge of Society with no way for them to earn their bread. But hate and the need for vengeance could drive a person to the worst extremes, and she could have destroyed him without caring that she was destroying herself.

Bordon did not believe that Cilla was acting entirely for her own benefit, in helping to dig him out of the mire. She was a good person, warm-hearted, compassionate. She was doing it for his benefit, as much as she was doing it for hers. A small smile tugged his lips. It was such a relief, to be at peace with his wife. To be working in concert with her, toward a common goal.

Now, if only he could be in accord with Harmony, as well. He scratched his smooth shaved cheek, and thought about Harmony.

They might well have been married by now, he reflected. She, Harmony, would have been his wife. The child would have been legitimate. Instead, she was again reduced to the status of mistress, and she felt that they held no higher status than that of a whore, a doxy who would bear her lover a bastard. Oh, he understood how she was feeling, and he longed to be able to give her the life he'd promised, the life she'd deserved.

He sighed heavily as he pulled his jacket on over his waist coat and buckled the belts in place.

He was gone for most of the day, searching for and finding a company of rebels nested quite close to - but not quite on - Henrietta Rutledge's plantation. After questioning Cilla's cousin very closely, he still was not convinced that she had been ignorant to their presence. It was his belief that, being positioned only a few miles away, Mrs. Rutledge had been supplying those rebels with the necessities: food, blankets, medicines, clothes. Their hut had been well stocked with all of it. If he ever discovered her involvement, he would drag her kicking and screaming to the fort to answer for it - cousin to Cilla or not.

As it was, he had no proof. He did, however, have nine rebels to put in prison. Nine less rebels for the British to fight. Small numbers, but still very satisfying. Though he could not prove Mrs. Rutledge's involvement, the day had not been a total waste. On returning to Fresh Water, he dismissed the Officers and the company and after freshening himself at a basin, he went in search of Harmony.

He found her with Cilla in the parlour - they had visitors, too. Mrs. Felton and her daughter. Something was not right, however. There was a tension in the room, he could discern it before he even entered. Bordon stopped dead in the doorway, surveying the scene. Harmony, sitting rigid and red faced in a single arm chair. Cilla, appearing more at her ease than Harmony, but still he knew her well enough by now to see the cracks in her facade. She was trying to maintain an outward display of composure, and was succeeding. By a hair. Mrs. Felton and her daughter sat across from them. From his previous experience with Mrs. Felton, Bordon knew her to be a wee little viper, one who took great entertainment out of sniffing out troubles and gossip in her peers. For a heart stricken moment, very real fear lanced through him. If she had spoken to Mrs. Turnbull…

None of the women had noticed him yet.

"I just find it quite interesting, is all," Mrs. Felton said. "Whenever Major Bordon is not here, you join Mrs. Bordon when visitors like ourselves arrive. Or you come along, when Mrs. Bordon comes to visit us. I wasn't sure if it was my imagination, of course," she gave a self deprecating laugh, but then her voice sharpened like a knife. "And so I asked Mrs. Reynolds and some of the others." - Damn and blast it, Cilla warned us, Richard thought. - "And don't you know it, all of them have noticed precisely the same! Another thing we noticed, Mrs. Farshaw, is that when Major Bordon is in residence, neither of you are anywhere to be seen. Mrs. Bordon always makes herself available to us, though. Such a lovely, amiable young woman you are," Mrs. Felton complimented Cilla, who barely seemed to be breathing. Mrs. Felton sat back, looking quite smug and proud of herself, for unearthing - and confronting - their dreadful secret.

From the sharp look in Mrs. Felton's eyes and the expression on her vulpine face, she was trying to gain the truth by searching for it in Harmony and Cilla's reactions. What would happen, if she discovered it? She would not keep it to herself, that was for certain. Would everything be lost? Damn and blast all women to hell. This was a disaster. How was he to salvage this?

He drew a deep breath, and dove in.

"Mrs. Felton! Miss Felton," he called, entering the parlour. All eyes swiveled to him, four very tense women, the eldest of them already determined to believe the worst. "Now this is a welcome surprise, you do my beautiful wife and I great honour." He bowed over Mrs. Felton's hands, noted the startled look on the woman's face. He greeted Miss Felton with a large smile, and as much warmth. Then came what was easily the hardest thing he'd ever done in his life. He chased away his smile, he turned toward Harmony and gave her nothing but a polite, cursory nod. His eyes did not dare linger for more than a moment. His greeting was coolly polite, at best, and could never be interpreted as affectionate. His endeavour was to make it appear, to those who knew to look for such things, as though he were obliged to greet Mrs. Farshaw, as though he took no joy in it. His eyes darted to Mrs. Felton, who was watching stiffly, her upper lip curled. She was contemptuous of his attempt, she could see right through it. Richard needed to do far more than be cool to his 'former' mistress.

He needed to honour his wife.

He adopted a smile again, this one blazing warmth, as he approached Cilla, his hands outstretched toward her. "My darling! What a terrible day I've had." Confiding his woes to her would certainly help to show they were close. He pulled her to her feet and kissed both her cheeks, a grand display of affection. "It is such a comfort to be home with you again."

Cilla allowed herself to be manhandled to her feet, she smiled prettily when he kissed her, and she stared up at him as though he were the only thing that mattered at all in her world. She was such a good creature, to understand and go along with his schemes so readily. She resumed her seat and he sat on the arm of her chair right beside her, his arm draped along the back. He took hold of her hand and held it in his as she leaned in to him and smiled prettily up at him, helping him to create the perfect picture of happiness.

Worried he might ruin the effect, he did not dare look at Harmony directly, though from the corner of his eye, he could see she had turned to ice. Her pain and the injury he had just done her pierced his chest. He would have some making up to do later, but for now, he had to help Cilla.

Harmony understood the need though, didn't she? He hoped she did, for Mrs. Felton still wore that look of suspicion on her vulpine face. Hoping to distract her, Richard asked her daughter a few pretty questions, he prattled to Cilla about his day and he laughed companionably with her. Cilla dripped commiseration over Richard's terrible day when he described it to her.

Mrs. Felton was engaging in the conversation but she kept hinting at a truth the 'happy' couple were not displaying. She was looking confused now, but suspicious still. To help convince her, Richard laid his hand on Cilla's far shoulder and he caressed his thumb along her neck, all the while chatting as if the action was self conscious, so natural he hardly knew he was doing it.

Mrs. Felton blinked, suddenly doubting what she had known almost for certain to be truth not five minutes earlier. It helped when Cilla sighed a pretty sigh of pleasure and leaned into the caress, as though his very touch was enough to give her shivers.

Harmony rose abruptly and excused herself.

Richard hid his turmoil behind a mask, though he longed to rush after her, to placate her, to reassure her he loved her and only her. Lord, what must she be going through? It was all he could do not to ruin all they had just gained. His heart thudded in his chest and he just wanted the damned vulture and her daughter to vanish, so he could tend his bruised beloved. She understood why he was doing as he was, though didn't she? They all had to do their part. Just as Cilla had had to stand up in the middle of the mercantile in Pembroke and announce that Mrs. Harmony Farshaw was her very dear friend. It was as hard on Cilla as it was on Harmony. Surely Harmony could bring herself to do her part? She knew how much he loved her, her - above any other.

"…always been quite curious as to Mrs. Farshaw's continued residence in this house," Mrs. Felton was saying, as if she was ready to be convinced, but needed this last niggly suspicion addressed first. It was bold of her, to ask it - she must have known that Richard and Cilla would take her curiosity as her being suspicious of them, and that she might insult them by insinuating that all was not as it seemed. It was her boldness that caught Richard - no one who was not absolutely certain of wrong doing would show such conviction.

Now, what she was really asking was, if Bordon was not having an affair with Mrs. Farshaw, if Bordon was so clearly solicitous of his wife and so affectionate, what, then, could be the purpose in Mrs. Farshaw living in the house?

"Well, you heard what her husband did, did you not?" Cilla asked, speaking in a low, almost whisper, as one would use when gossiping to a confidant. Mrs. Felton nodded. "He's a murderer," Cilla continued. "He's a very dangerous man, to be sure. I would even go so far as to say he is unhinged. The things Mrs. Farshaw has told me he did to her…" She gave a tremendous - and not unfeigned - shudder of revulsion. "Well, I was extremely worried he would come after her, you see, for she betrayed him to General O'Hara. He told her he would come after her, for that."

"He didn't!" Mrs. Felton gasped.

"He did. He was spying, you see, and Mrs. Farshaw knew it. She is a Loyalist and it sickened her, that her husband was playing both sides. She confronted him, threatened to reveal him if he did not stop. And so he beat her dreadfully.

"That's why he beat her!" Mrs. Felton covered her mouth with her hand.

"Oh, you heard about it, did you?" Cilla asked innocently and Richard stifled a scoff. Knowledge of Farshaw's beating of his wife would have spread far and wide by now - and Cilla knew it. "Yes, that is the reason why. And then he murdered that poor Major Fallows - I'm just so glad that Mrs. Farshaw was here at the time. It's quite shocking, really, we were sitting in this very room, Mrs. Farshaw, Mrs. Tavington, Miss Middleton, Miss Wilkins, eating scones and drinking tea, while next door at the Ferguson's, Corporal Farshaw was murdering Major Fallows! My cousin, Mrs. Tavington that is, she said - and I quite agree - that if Mrs. Farshaw had been there at the time, she might have been murdered also!"

Lies upon lies upon lies - but Cilla did it so very well! Richard nodded along sagely, soberly, as if everything his wife just said was absolute truth.

Mrs. Felton was lapping it up - she seemed unwilling to draw breath in case she missed a thing, she leaned forward with vulpine delight. This was more than she had bargained for, Richard thought, having the information confirmed directly from Cilla's own lips. Richard assumed an impassive expression, as though Harmony meant nothing to him now, though in truth, he was quivering with the need to chase after her. He hated his current part in this. Absolutely despised it.

"After that awful beating, we needed to protect Mrs. Farshaw - Mrs. Tavington was adamant, and so was I," Cilla continued. Richard shot her an amused glance, for Cilla was not even around when Calvin beat Harmony. She was making it sound as if everything was hers and Beth's idea. It was clever of her, to include Mrs. Tavington. "We declared her to be under our protection, and had her situated comfortably with a family we trusted, where he would not think to look for her. But when Corporal Farshaw murdered poor Major Fallows and fled, well, there was no need for Mrs. Farshaw to be living elsewhere. Mrs. Tavington had gone by then, to tend my sick cousin Margaret -"

"Oh yes, how is Miss Margaret faring?" Richard asked.

"Much better now, but Beth intends to stay just a little bit longer. It's so wonderful of Colonel Tavington, to allow it. Thank goodness for wonderful husbands," Cilla smiled up Richard, as if including him in that sentiment. "It's a pity Mrs. Farshaw was not so lucky in her husband as I. When Farshaw fled, I suggested to Mrs. Farshaw that she return here. I missed her dreadfully and I wanted her company you see, for with the other women gone, I would have been quite lonely," Cilla said and Richard heard the catch in her voice. Again, pride welled - what a delightful actress Cilla was. Mrs. Felton shook her head as if astonished. Richard hoped it was anyway. He hoped it wasn't disbelief. "You've probably also heard that Mrs. Farshaw was once engaged to my own Major Bordon, when she thought herself to be a widow," Cilla continued, eyes lifting to Richard. She raised her hand, wound her fingers through his. "We were all close back then too, in the city. Mrs. Tavington - well, she was Miss Martin then, of course," Cilla gave a blinding smile. "Mrs. Farshaw and the others, we attended balls and dinners together, it was all so divine. Mrs. Farshaw's father was hoping for a marriage match between his daughter and Major Bordon and she did come with a nice little dowry." Richard kept his face impassive as Cilla lied through her teeth. He'd never met Mr. George Jutland in his life, and dowry? Lord. "The Banns were read -"

"I know, I read them," Mrs. Felton said.

"As did I," Cilla smiled. "But before the deal could be secured, Mr. Farshaw rose from the dead. He'd read the Banns too, and he came straight here to claim back his wife. I'm told Mr. Jutland - that's Mrs. Farshaw's father, was most unhappy that the engagement could not be fulfilled."

Something in Mrs. Felton's expression changed - she drew back, her eyes widening, her face hardening. Richard worried that Cilla has erred somewhere, that she'd something wrong, but for the life of him, he could not guess what.

"Only the father?" Mrs. Felton asked, voice crisp as she glanced at Richard. "No one else was unhappy about it?"

"Well, Mrs. Farshaw, to be sure. And who can blame her?" Cilla asked. "The man is a brute."

Mrs. Felton was staring hard at Richard, however.

"All ended well for me," he forced himself to say, bringing Cilla's fingers up to his lips and kissing them gently, his eyes never leaving her face. Cilla's lips parted, she drew in a quick breath, her dark eyes widened. For a moment, he wondered if that gasp of pleasure was real, it certainly seemed unfeigned. No, it was just for show, he thought, laying her fingers alongside his cheek. She was holding her breath, her face was becoming flushed… All for show, he thought, all for Mrs. Felton's benefit. "I was in talks with Mr. Putman regarding his daughter, also. But there was some unpleasantness back in the city, regarding Mr. Putman's Loyalties, and so even though I felt great affection for Miss Putman, I chose my bride elsewhere." As if Harmony was his second choice. He was pleased she was out of the room now, for hearing this would kill her. "But then Mr. Farshaw returned and although I find no joy in Mrs. Farshaw's circumstances, I can not say… I can not… say… that I regret… the ending of our engagement," Gods, that was the hardest thing to say, the most awful lie he'd ever told. "For it seemed Miss Putman was unable to abide living without me and she begged her uncle to assist her - against her father's wishes - in returning to me. I do feel poorly for Mrs. Farshaw, and I do regret disappointing Mr. Jutland. But I have to say, all ended well for me."

"And for me," Cilla smiled up at him. "And for Mrs. Farshaw too, now that Lieutenant Farshaw is gone."

"Yes," Bordon agreed. "My Cilla is such a sweet creature, I am truly grateful to Our Lord Above, for having such a grand plan for me, in giving me such a woman for my wife." He turned his face into her hand again, closed his eyes as he kissed her palm. Cilla seemed barely able to speak at all. When she did finally find her voice, it was soft, warm, thick… As if she was speaking while under a spell. He gazed down at her, truly amazed at her acting ability.

"Major Bordon… feels obliged… to Mrs. Farshaw…" Cilla stammered out as if unable to focus on the matter at hand, for the nearness and distracting warmth of her beloved husband. "For my… friendship with her. He has allowed… her to continue to stay here at my behest. She is safer here and if nothing else, she is good company for me, on the horrible days when I can not visit my dear friends," this last was said with a smile at Miss Felton, who blushed at the compliment.

"Oh, that is very fine of you, Major Bordon, to show such charity," Mrs. Felton said. Richard wasn't entirely certain if she believed them, or if she'd simply decided to go along with them, for the sake of proprietary.

Cilla accepted the compliment, before she expertly changed the topic. Richard was desperate to leave, to find Harmony, but he did not want to risk rousing Mrs. Felton's suspicions further. As it was, he was not sure she was convinced, and as the women continued to chat, he decided he would sit in on more of these visits, for Cilla had been quite right - spending all his time with Harmony and none with Cilla and her visitors had been a glaring and far too obvious mistake. They had explained why Harmony was living in the house, yet they had not answered why Harmony and Richard were never in company with Cilla, unless Richard was gone away. He hoped Mrs. Felton did not linger on it. While sitting there chatting, he counted down the minutes, waiting for the woman to leave, even while adding his own quips and amusing tales to their conversation. Finally the woman declared it was time for her to return home. Cilla, her arm wrapped through Richard's, escorted Mrs. Felton and her daughter to the door, where her carriage was waiting.

"Mrs. Bordon, Major Bordon, I do thank you for a delightful afternoon. Mrs. Felton dipped into her pocket and pulled out two invitations. "I am having a dinner this Friday - well, it was my husband's idea, he wants desperately to thank you and Colonel Tavington for all the good work you have all been doing, getting rid of the rebel menace this side of the Santee."

Cilla turned over the papers in her hand, one was addressed to Major. And Mrs. Bordon, the other to Colonel Tavington.

"I do hope you are all free that night."

"I believe we are," Cilla said, lifting her eyes from the invitations. "I'll see that Colonel Tavington receives his. Do you… have one for… Mrs. Farshaw?"

"I'm afraid not, Mrs. Bordon. I do appreciate you providing me with the history you gave me just now, but I have been given another, far more colourful insight into Mrs. Farshaw's recent past. I am of the understanding that Mrs. Farshaw, calling herself Miss Jutland, was a camp follower with the British Legion for nearly two months before she and Major Bordon became engaged?" Mrs. Felton asked, her eyes shifting to Bordon. "I have a fair understanding of what use she was put to, as well." - Richard's face paled, he felt the blood draining from it.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Cilla breathed as Richard stood stiffly beside her.

"Perhaps not, and I for one would not change that for all the world, Mrs. Bordon," Mrs. Felton said with most sincerity Bordon had heard from her since he arrived. With a honeyed grin for Bordon, she tapped her fan against his chest like he was a naughty boy and said, "I'm still left quite curious as to why it is that whenever you are in residence, you and Mrs. Farshaw are no where to be seen. Oh well, I'm sure there's another lengthy explanation but we're quite out of time to hear it. Good day to you both." She said, turning away, leaving Cilla and Bordon speechless in the doorway. In short order, the woman and her daughter were in their carriage, Cilla and Bordon waved as it pulled away. When the carriage was out of sight, Cilla jerked her hand away from Richard's arm and turned back into the house.

"She didn't believe us," Cilla said as she stepped into the hall.

"She believed some of it - but she knows I was bedding Harmony," he said regretfully as he closed the front door behind him. "All of this was her way of trying to discover if I still am."

"Do you think she knows you are?"

"I would say she suspects, quite strongly," he admitted. "However, I'd also say she is less concerned about that now, than she is about my conduct in my marriage. She is reassured that I am a gentleman and that I care for and can behave well toward my wife, therefore she extends the invitation, rather than risking the ramifications of not inviting me. But she will not have Harmony near her again, not now. I should have listened to you. I should have made a more concerted effort to meet with these women, when I had the chance."

"Yes, you should have." Gone was the warmth and delight from Cilla's voice, she was all brusque now. "Instead, you took every opportunity to spend time with her. Yours and Harmony's continual absences when visitors come to call was noticed."

"Just as you said they would be. I am sorry and from now on, I will join you as much as I am able, though I'm afraid that's much like closing the gate after the horse has bolted," he gazed down at her. "You did well in there."

"It's a bit late for sorry, and I should not have had to do well in there," she snapped. "If you had heeded me, no one would have become suspicious at all."

"At least we're still to be welcome by them," he said, adding softly, "though Harmony might not be."

"Well, there is not much I can do about that, you should have been more discreet and -"

"I'm sorry, Cilla, will you excuse me?" He began to stride away.

"Richard, we need to discuss this!" She said but he continued on, he needed to find Harmony, needed to see how she was. He searched upstairs, certain she would have gone to her chamber, but she was not there. He dashed downstairs again and began searching the chambers there, ignoring Cilla who was pacing in the parlour. He found Harmony sitting alone in the dining room, elbows on the table, her face buried in her hands.

"Christ," he muttered, her weeping piercing his chest. He stumbled to her and dropped in the chair next to her. When he reached for her hand, she snatched hers away.

"Don't touch me," she hissed, her ravaged face becoming ice. "How could you?"

"Harm -"

"To barely acknowledge me! To treat me as an afterthought! You showered Miss Felton with more affection than you did me! And then to go to her," she spat of Cilla, "to kiss her! To sit with her, to hold her hand! Oh my God Richard!" She snarled, voice still choked with sobs.

"Harmony, it was all for show -"

"Do you know how it looked?" She glared, blue eyes darkening, narrowing. "Do you know how you looked? Like a man in love. You looked like you're in love with her! Those women will go away thinking you love Cilla! That you cherish Cilla."

"I'm not certain Mrs. Felton thought that, but that was what I was trying for. I'd never do anything to hurt you, Harm," he tried again, seizing one of her hands and holding it, not letting her pull away. "I love you, no one else. But it's necessary. It's imperative that no one finds the slightest fault in any part of my life. I know this is bringing you great pain, I would never ask you to tolerate this if it wasn't absolutely necessary."

"Why is it necessary?" She shot back, her hand twitching. He had the distinct feeling that if he released her, she should slap him. "Why, Richard?"

"For the same reasons you stood still in Pembroke and let Cilla dig all three of us out of trouble. For my reputation. For my standing. I know," he gave a bitter laugh, despising himself. "I sound like the most selfish bastard in the world. But I need this, Harmony. You mean the world to me, I love you more than anything. I know I'm putting you through hell, I'm asking so very much of you. But I'm not asking it lightly."

"For you, I'd do anything," Harmony replied, voice intent, eyes flashing. "It's why I let myself be dragged along that day when Cilla launched into defending us all in Pembroke. For you. But this is so hard," she choked up again, he could hear the pleading in her voice. "Send me away, Richard. So I don't have to see. So I don't have to sit there in public and be ignored by you. So I don't have to feel as though you're keeping me hidden, like some dirty thing you can't acknowledge. Can't you see how galling this is? Not only for me. But for the baby. What of the baby, will our child grow up watching you shower Cilla with affection while ignoring us both? Is that the life we can expect, Richard?"

"You can't leave," he shook his head, his queue whipped back and forth from the force of it. "I will not send you from me, it is not safe. He's still out there somewhere. No where is safe except here. I don't know about the rest. I just don't know," he could not meet her eyes. What would he do when the child came? Shower it with love, of course. Except when they had visitors? Would he ignore his own child, then? The very idea left him feeling sick to his stomach. How confused would the child be, how heartbroken? At least Harmony understood the reasons why he did as he did, even if she despised letting Cilla be the public front for his married life. The child would not understand any of it. "You must stay," he repeated, unable to give her the reassurance she needed. "I need you safe. I need you here."

"How long are you going to ask this of me?" She confronted, uncertain how much longer she could continue. "How much longer, Richard?"

"I don't know," he admitted, chagrined. "Until the war is over."

"Why wait?" She begged, fingers clutching at him. He stared at her gravely. "My love, you don't need any of this," she flipped the lapels of his uniform Dragoon jacket. "You know of my father's plantation, up near Grindal Shoals. It's not much, as you know. Indian Corn, mostly and he only has a small plot to work with. But you could make it so much more. You're wealthy, you could buy land. And it's so far out of the way, so far from the city and Society that no one would question anything that we do. You don't have to be an Officer, Richard. You can be anything you wish to be. Put that brilliant mind to better use, help my father establish a larger, more flourishing plantation. We don't have to stay here and impress anyone if you simply leave the army. Advancing in the ranks, you and Cilla keeping the goodwill of Officers and Generals. Bah! None of that will matter anymore, it would have no hold over you, if you simply left it all behind! And you can leave Cilla behind too!"

"Christ, you don't understand," he ran a hand over his hair, stared at her grimly. "Simply turn my back on my entire life, on everything I've troubled myself to build, and become a small farmer. I don't mean to offend you, Harm. But your father might be content with that life, but I never could be. Jesus, how much simpler would my life be, without ambition?" He gave a self deprecating laugh.

"Your ambition will be the ruin of us all," she ground out, her fingers crumpling the wool of his jacket. "Would you not be content living with me and our child in some remote place where no one cares what we do? Would that life not be enough for you?"

"My money is not infinite. A few seasons of bad crops could destroy us. Not knowing if I would be able to provide for my family from one season to the next," he argued. "Watching you and our children grow hungry and ail for want of medical care we can not afford, because my money has run dry. No, Harm. I would not be content with that, I would be in constant fear of losing you to ill health or starvation. Besides, it is not possible. Or have you forgotten Farshaw? Have you given any thought to what your father would say, should you show up there with me instead of your husband?"

"Perhaps that was a poor idea," she conceded, lowering her voice. "But what I'm trying to say is, you don't need all this," she gripped his cravat and his collar, gave them both a tug.

"I can not leave the army," his voice was firm, he would not entertain the idea for even a moment. "As for what we will do - well, there is time yet to decide. When the war is over, I had intended that we would move to England. But… I just don't know anything right now."

"Move to England," she laughed bitterly, dashing her tears with the back of her hand. "Will she be coming too, then? You've been cultivating the idea that your marriage is not a sham. If we go to England, you won't be able to leave your wife behind! She'll live in the Manor House while your children and I are sided off to a cottage on the edge of your vast property. Because we will have no choice but to continue this farce, after we've gone to all this trouble to make people believe you and she are upright, standing citizens!" Again, that bitter laugh.

"I don't know," he repeated. "It's just… Necessary. For now, it is."

"It's necessary for you," she spat, anger souring. "You've never said anything truer about yourself in your entire life. You are acting selfishly, absolutely and utterly. You and she both. You're both being selfish, neither of you care for how this is affecting me -"

"That's not true, I do care -"

"Not enough," she ploughed right over his protests. "Not enough to not ask this of me. To sit by and watch as you shower her with affection. To be your doxy behind closed doors, to hide your bastard child; another dirty, shaming secret. And all to protect your sham of a marriage. You and she are the only ones benefiting. I love you. I'd do anything for you. But I can't help but question why I am doing this to myself, for you. For her. To help maintain something I despise! And believe me, Richard. I do despise your marriage. This is all for you and your damned wife, a woman who is so scared these uppities will learn the truth about her!"

"And what truth is that?" Cilla asked from the doorway. Richard whirled, his head coming up, a panicked look entering his eyes. Harmony tensed, then she slowly pushed herself up, preparing to confront her rival. Her face was grim, Richard had felt her racing pulse beneath his fingers before she pulled her wrist from his grasp.

"The truth," Harmony raised her chin, her hand on the table for support, her other hand placed on the swell of her stomach with pride. "That you are no better than me, no matter how well bred you pretend to be."

"Pretend?" Cilla asked, her eyes darted to Richard, her face becoming flushed. Richard braced one elbow to the table and dropped his forehead into his hand.

"Pretend," Harmony declared. "In fact, Cilla, you are worse than me. So much worse. I know that I am a sinner; I am a married woman and I have a lover. I am Richard's mistress and I will bear him a bastard. And you are still worse than me. You pretended to be an innocent maid filled with holy virtue. But you never were and now the two of you are falling all over yourselves to protect that fact and to protect your true nature."

"My true nature," Cilla whispered, reeling.

"You pretend to be a good little genteel woman, but the truth is, you whored yourself to snagging an aristocrat husband. You both expect me to go along with it all, though I've got nothing to gain and everything to lose. If anything, I've lost ground, I should have been Richard's wife but you took that from me, Cilla! I have lost everything, because of you," Harmony spat, her face livid. "You call Linda Stokes a whore, as if you're not one yourself. We both know the truth there, Cilla."

The colour drained from Cilla's face and her legs felt suddenly weak.

"You fucked Richard, he got a child on you and you forced him to marry you. You thought you'd have a stupendous marriage, no doubt, but even though you managed to secure his cock for one night, you never secured his heart, did you? I hope the information you gained from him was worth destroying my life," Harmony spat viciously.

"You think I -"

"Oh, I know exactly why you did it, the same reason your mother did it. Clearly one of you didn't get the information you needed so the other of you fucked him too. I know exactly what happened," Harmony snapped. "There would have been alcohol, no doubt, there always is when he goes rutting other women."

"Is that what…" Cilla turned to Richard, her eyes bright with betrayal. "You told her?" Richard opened his mouth but Harmony spoke first.

"I am not a fool, Cilla. Richard told me some, but I can figure the rest. For instance, I know that you're in love with him -"

"In love!" Cilla gasped.

"- He is not in love with you, nor will he ever be. But you clearly are with him - so can you blame me for not wanting him anywhere near you? After you managed to get him to fuck you once already? You lifting your skirts and flashing your quim! It likely began with your spying but then you got pregnant and you decided to snag yourself a wealthy husband, didn't you? You whored your way into matrimony!"

Cilla's face was draining of colour and in its wake, an ashen grey rose in her cheeks. Richard met her eyes and pang shot through him. Not her fault. Not hers at all. Harmony was not finished.

"You took him from me, the day you set your sights on a gentleman for a husband."

"I was always destined to marry a gentleman," Cilla said softly. "I never had to stoop to such measures to secure one."

"What rot," Harmony spay. "You whored your way into his bed, just like your mother did, both like common doxies for all your pretty silks and polished manners. You acted the doxy, yet your standing was such that he was forced to marry you. He never would have married you, but you hunted him down and dangled your pregnancy and caught him, like a predator hunting its prey."

All colour was gone from Cilla's face, even the grey. Richard gazed at her with increasing concern, even her lips were bloodless. She was white as snow, how she was even standing, he did not know. She did not deserve this. The second injustice he had committed against Cilla, was leaving Harmony to believe that their forced marriage was all her fault. It was not fair to Cilla, to have her virtue attacked by his mistress. Cilla spoke into the silence.

"I took nothing from you," she whispered, voice hoarse and soft. "You forget, Mrs. Farshaw. You were already married. Even if Richard and I had never married, you could not have married him yourself. Even if I dropped dead this very moment, you still could not marry him. I am tired of this," she turned to Richard, her dark eyes large and moist. "I do not deserve this."

He lowered his eyes, gave a slight nod of agreement. It was not fair to Cilla, attacked by his mistress, when it was Richard who had compromised her virtue so brutally.

"I've tried, Richard. Gods know it's true. She says she's the one who gains nothing? When everything I am has been stripped from me."

"How's that for theatre?" Harmony snorted. "You look precisely the same to me now as you did in Charlestown, Cilla. You reigned supreme there and you reign supreme now. I'm the one with nothing. I'm the one making sacrifices. All for you."

"All for Richard, Harmony. You're not doing a damned thing for me, except speak as ignorantly as you've always done," Cilla shifted her gaze to Richard. "I can't be expected to tolerate this. I have done my best by her, when I've had no cause to whatsoever," Cilla continued, ignoring Harmony and addressing Richard as though Harmony were not there. "I did not have to bring her back here that day. I could have left her in Pembroke to fend for herself. She is ungrateful and vicious and I should not have to put up with either. I should not have to live like this! Constantly accused of ruining her life, her impure suggestions as to why we were married!"

"No," he said softly. "You should not." He turned to meet Harmony's eyes, saw hers were burning as if with fire. Before he could say another word, Cilla spoke again.

"She had hopes and dreams, but she could not have followed any of them through, for she was already married! I had hopes and dreams too, hopes and dreams I could have followed, if not for you. I should not have to put up with this, Richard."

"Ungrateful," Harmony spat, as if deaf to all else Cilla had just said. "What is there to be grateful for? You only helped me so Richard would not be angry, you admitted it in front of him!" Harmony shouted.

"There was more to her decision than that and you know it," Richard replied. "She helped you that day and she is helping you still, whether you care to acknowledge it or not. You may not enjoy being in the company of the likes of Mrs. Felton, but imagine the alternative? That display in the parlour did not only protect me and Cilla, it protected you. Harmony, it would not matter how small the settlement is, nor how far we ran. There is not a parish in all the Colonies, that would accept you and I, if we both left our spouses and if you bore me a child out of wedlock. An illusion would need to be maintained, lies told, no matter where we go. Cilla has done everything within her power, to ensure none of us are shunned for the things we've done. She could have handled it any number of ways, but she chose to deal with it in such a way that enabled you to have a roof over your head and warm clothes on your back. There was compassion in her decision when she bought you to a place of safety, a place where you will want for nothing. Do you know of any wife on God's green earth, who would do that for her husband's mistress? Would Beth ever have done such a thing for Linda? No. But Cilla did it, for you. Now, I've acknowledged that I am being utterly selfish. It's time for you to admit you are being entirely ungrateful and unreasonable!" He paused, then added, "and extraordinarily cruel."

Harmony stood stiff as a buckboard, her eyes fixed on Richard because she could not bring herself to look at his wife. To be dressed down, before Cilla. It was galling. The trouble was, everything he had said was absolutely true. Her eyes welled with tears; she had been grateful toward Cilla but her pride would not allow her to say the words. Not to Richard's wife, who had snagged Richard out from under her.

"She knows it," Cilla began. "But she is not going to admit it. Nothing is going to change here, except one thing. The way she speaks to me, the vicious things she says, I will tolerate them no more." She turned and left the chamber as quietly as she'd entered.

As Richard approached, Harmony lowered her head, averting her gaze, and was grateful when Richard placed his arms around her..

"It's just so hard," she admitted now that they were alone, falling against him. "She has everything while I have nothing. I despise seeing you show affection toward her. I hate being second in your life. I know she showed compassion that day. I know I should be grateful, and I am. The first few days I was here, before you came back, we were even getting along with each other."

"Maybe I shouldn't have come back?" He suggested, amused. "It sounds as though my return ruined it all."

"Maybe," she laughed wretchedly. "I'm jealous," she admitted, amusement fleeing. "I'm just so jealous of her, I can't bring myself to be even slightly civil just now!"

"There's no need for you to be jealous," he pulled her close, his hands moving up and down her back. "I love you, Harm. I'll never stop loving you." She melted against him, sighing into his neck. "Harm," he said over her head. "I need you to be kinder - I need you to stop saying such things to Cilla. You two can get along quite well, I've seen it with my own two eyes. Cilla was right, she has done her best by us. Cilla is only human and the things you've said just now and in the past - they are vicious and hurtful."

"I know," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

"I know it's hard, when you see me being affectionate for the sake of others. But it's all for show. But please, if it angers you, go punch something. Punch me."

"Don't think I'm not tempted," she said and he laughed softly.

"I'm just saying, take it out on me, not on her," he tilted her head back to look down into her eyes. "Please? She is less at fault that you believe her to be - it takes two to couple, if you recall. It's me you should be angry with, not her. You and I should have been married by now, instead we're stuck here like this, and we need to make the best of an unhappy situation. Can you please help me to do that?"

"Alright," she said, nodding. "I promise, I'll try."

"Thank you," he kissed her gently.