Chapter 135 - The Blackmail of Lt. Lyons:

Beth watched as Nancy worked to establish a fire with nothing but wet wood and a prayer. She was struggling to strike a spark with the flint and when she did manage it, the sodden kindling snuffed it. It was not raining but still, Beth shoved her fingers up under her arm pits, wishing for a nice warm cabin right about now. Even those paltry little lean-to's they came upon a few days earlier were better than sitting in the open, freezing cold air. They were so far from civilisation, there hadn't been a proper road in days. No manor houses, no cabins. Finding the camp that Colonel Burwell had established - and quickly abandoned - had been a dream come true. For before he deserted his camp, Burwell had built lean-to's - almost as good as little cabins, which Beth and the Officers of the baggage train had taken over completely. That was days ago now, several days since she'd had a nice warm fire and a roof over her head. Several days since she'd last heard Banastre last, too.

He'd also taken refuge in those lean-to's after Burwell deserted them, but he'd moved out again before Beth and the baggage train caught up; he'd decamped to continue the chase after General Burwell before the baggage train arrived. By the time Beth got there, he was long gone, though he'd left a letter for her in one of the cabins, knowing she would not be far behind and would be occupying one of them soon enough. The letter was in her portmanteaus now, but it was short enough that she knew it word for word. After the usual preliminaries, he'd written, "as certain as the day is long, I now ride toward battle. General Burwell is gathering his forces, but Lord Cornwallis and I shall back him up against the river and put paid to them for once and for all. I will be with you again soon - we have much to discuss." He ended it with promises of undying love and faithfulness, but he never once, not even once, offered her the assurances she needed. That had been several days ago and he had not left another missive, she was no closer to learning if he would support the baby or not. She dropped her chin to her hands, elbows on her knees, and sighed. It was so like him, to give promises in the heat of the moment when his passion was high. He hadn't considered the the gravity of what he was promising, of what he really would be prepared to do, if the child was his or if the child was William's. "I'll raise it either way," he'd sworn it, he'd promised it, because he'd known she'd been worried and he'd wanted to allay her fears.

He wasn't trying to allay her fears now.

She supposed she couldn't blame Banastre for not wanting to raise another man's child, she wouldn't want to raise another woman's. But he'd promised he would, he'd looked her in the eye and told her that he loved her enough to make that sacrifice, if it came to pass that the child was not his own. But he hadn't stop to think about it, to truly consider what the ramifications would befor him, before giving that oath.

It wasn't fair to Banastre, to expect him to keep the vow. She was frustrated that he hadn't stopped to consider the repercussions if the child turned out not to be his… But that was Banastre. Always passionate, always spontaneous, always living in the moment.

"I'll have to tell him, it's me and the baby or it's neither of us," she whispered, for she had no intention of giving up her child to William.

"Sorry, I didn't hear ye, what was that?" Nancy asked.

Beth gave her a derisive look and glanced away. She was not like Banastre, who hardly ever thought beyond the moment. She had to think forward, ahead, to when the child is born. If Banastre stays with her, well, then there wasn't much to consider. They would move to England and continue with that plan. If he decides it is neither of us, then… what? My father was going to take me to Aunt Charlotte, she thought, remembering what Alby Scott told her. Aunt Charlotte will take me in… She's as ruined as I am. She has money… she can afford to keep us both until papa is out of prison. And then, papa will provide for me. He promised it, didn't he? And he isn't like Ban or William; to his last breath, he keeps his promises. And William will provide for the baby at the very least. If that whore lets him spare a few groats from my inheritance, she scoffed to herself.

"Mayhap we shouldn't 'ave taken down Mrs. Tavington's tent? We could set it up again," Nancy said to Mrs. Garland, who sat opposite Beth across the fire pit.

"They said we won't be here long enough," Mrs. Garland replied.

"Lord, I'd give me arm to know what's happening." Nancy nodded, looking solemn, worried. Now that Nancy mentioned the battle, Beth felt the same worry gnaw at her - her fear over Banastre rejecting her baby gave way to fear over Banastre himself. The Legion had found Burwell's army, it was said. They would strike first thing in the morning. Well, it was first thing in the morning now, and someplace to the north of them, the Legion might very well be forming up its ranks. Perhaps the first shot had already been fired, it was impossible to know. How many would die? Nancy desperately feared her husband might - just as Beth feared for Banastre. And for Burwell. And for whichever of her family happened to be with him. Gabriel? Thomas? Where were they? Her father was the only one she could be certain was fine - tucked up safe in his prison. Lord, she almost laughed - who would have ever thought she'd ever be grateful that her father had been captured? But it meant that he would be sitting in a nice, comfortable room with all manner of luxuries, rather than about to take a ball to his chest on the field of battle. Gabriel might yet, and Thomas… Who else was with Burwell? Her uncle, Mark? Her brother, Nathan? Would he be considered too young to fight? Thomas had had to wait until he was seventeen. Surely Harry wouldn't put fifteen year old Nathan in the ranks… Gods, this was torture, the not knowing, the waiting, the worrying. Nancy finally had the fire established, she set a kettle over the flames and they were soon surrounded by the scent of meat and gravy. At any other time, it would have been enough to make her stomach rumble but just then, it left her feeling sick.

Time marched on as implacable as the army itself, Beth managed to force herself to eat a few mouthfuls when the stew was warm enough. They were drinking the cider Nancy had warmed, Nancy and Mrs. Garland chatted and Beth refused their attempts to draw her into their conversation. She should send them both away - she didn't need either now that the meal was done and the hot cup of cider was between her fingers, warming them. She opened her mouth to give the order, but Mrs. Garland got in first.

"A post rider," the midwife said, pointing to the horseman trotting through the ranks toward a small tent.

"He might have news of the battle," Beth said, rising. A small crowd was already forming in front of the tent, one man darted out, he bellowed at the converging women and soldiers to get back as he pushed his way past them.

"Going to find Lieutenant Lyons," they heard one soldier explain to the other.

Nancy sniffed as they started to walk toward the group. "It'll take a while."

"Why's that?"

"Lyons is 'tween the sheets with Electa just now."

Beth's lips tightened and she pulled her cape closer around her shoulders. Electa. The woman was still in camp. Beth steeled herself - of course Electa would still be there, where else would she go? She must have been been keeping her distance from Beth it seemed, for Beth hadn't seen her since the night Banastre had tried to bring her to their bed. Well, as long as she continued to keep out of Beth's sight, that was just fine with her. What wasn't just fine, was the sight of Alby Scott, striding through the growing crowd and entering the tent as if he had every right to be there. He caught Beth's eye for a moment, gave her a lopsided grin and s shrug, before the flap fell closed behind him. Of all the damned, bloody stupid fools! She'd told him to leave, by God! Did that mean that Adam Danvers was still there also? With Banastre's force up ahead, the Company minding the baggage was small, how could her father's two spies stay hidden among so few soldiers? What a risk to be taking, what a couple of damned fools.

She came to a stop at the back of the group, waited there for a few moments with Mrs. Garland and Nancy, before wondering what the hell she was doing, staying at the back of the group. She was Mrs. Tavington, wife to a Colonel! Women such as she did not wait behind the ragtag masses. Drawing herself up to her full but inconsiderable height, she began weaving through those milling there, shooting dark looks at any who seemed ready to complain. When she was at the front she found she could go no further, for a soldier stood there barring the way. Beth might have precedence over the rabble, but she had no right to command a soldier with orders.

"Sir," she said as politely as she was able, her lips were blue by now, she was certain of it. Her voice was hoarse and her teeth chattered. "Is there word from Colonel Tarleton?"

"I am not certain of that yet, Mrs. Tavington," the fellow replied, his voice clear in the morning air. "I will be certain to inform you, as soon as I am."

"I thank you," she said, hiding her fingers in the folds of her cape and wishing she had thicker gloves. When she made no move to leave, the soldier hesitated.

"Mrs. Tavington, I vow I will come directly to you, as soon as I have word. For now, wouldn't you be more comfortable sitting by your fire?"

"Yes," she agreed. "But I will stay here and wait all the same, Sir." The fellow looked startled but he nodded, then returned to his sentry duty - standing there with his musket at his side, keeping anyone from entering save those with authority. Mrs. Garland and Nancy had pushed their way through as well, Beth saw when she turned to see who'd jostled her. Nancy looked on the verge of tears.

"No news yet," she whispered, her face pale save for two red blooms of cold on her cheeks. "I don't reckon I can stand much more of this."

"You're a soldiers wife, you have no choice," Beth said, forcing her own worry down. "Battles aren't fought in a minute, Nancy. It takes hours of before the victor is decided, and even longer for word to spread. You need not worry, Colonel Tarleton has never lost a battle."

"Don't mean he ain't ever lost a man though, ain't?" Nancy folded her arms around her chest and huddled in on herself. "Your man'll return sure enough but that don't mean mine will."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Beth bristled, eyes darting to the crowd behind her. What was the girl thinking, saying that? Nancy gave her a startled look, but instead of apologising or becoming chastened, she slid deeper into her fear. As Beth turned away, she saw Mrs. Garland drape her arm across Nancy's shoulders.

"What of these ones? From FRESH WATER," an overly loud voice said from inside the tent, seeming to put special emphasis on Fresh Water. Beth was certain it was Alby Scott that'd spoken - and far louder than was necessary. So that she would hear? Almost certainly. Excitement burst through her chest, her heart suddenly began pumping so quickly she almost felt warm.

"Sir, please let me pass," she said, already taking a step forward.

"None may enter without Lieutenant Lyons' leave," the sentry replied apologetically.

And how the devil did Alby get that, I wonder?

"Sir, there are letters from my home, I need to -"

"This one is addressed to MRS. TAVINGTON," again Alby called those last words out with exaggerated volume, to be certain she heard him.

"I'll take those," another man within the tent said. "I'm to give those directly to Lieutenant Lyons."

"Why in the world would you need to do that?"Beth called out, the thin canvas allowing her voice to be heard from those within. A strange silence seemed to fall inside and Beth called out again. "Sir! I am standing right here! There are letters from my home - addressed to me - you may hand them to me, please."

"Get Lyons." She heard the hushed command, filled with panic. "Now."

Alby darted out of the tent again, as he held up the tent flap - he pretended to trip, trodding on the soldier standing sentry. He still managed to hold the tent flap up, he met Beth's eyes and whispered: "In you get, before they burn these ones too."

Beth gaped, eyes wide, heart thumping. The soldier was cursing and pushing Alby off him, and Beth darted past them both ignoring the sentries cry and attempt to grab her arm over Alby's shoulder. Just like that, she was in the tent. Alby could help no further, not without repercussions, which meant the sentry was hot on her heels.

"I'm sorry, Sir! That soldier was in my way, she slipped by me before I could stop her," he said to his superior, who was nothing but a boy of eighteen years, and only a Corporal at that. He clutched a large wallet to his chest, his face flaming crimson as he stared at Beth.

"She?" Beth said crisply, chiding. "My name is Mrs. Tavington and you will address me as such! Why in the world would you wish to stop me? Those letters are addressed to me," she turned on the young Corporal, who must have purchased his rank recently for he stood gaping at Beth as though he had no idea what he should do. Definitely green to the job. "I've saved you a trip, Sir," she said to the youth, holding her hand out imperiously. "You can give those to me, I'm certain you've more important matters to tend to." Before they burn them. Gods, what did that mean?

"They have to, ah…" he licked his lips, his eyes darting, looking panicked. Beth could see quite clearly that he was trying to think of an excuse to not give them to her. His rank over hers would have been enough for that, but he was too green - too new - to think of it. "They have to be read by Lieutenant Lyons and checked for hidden messages. Spies, you know," he said, sounding so relieved to have caught upon a decent excuse. Her eyes were like two burning orbs in a face gone granite.

"Do explain to me Sir, why you would think for one moment that letters sent from a British held fort, my British held home, letters destined for the wife of a British Colonel, could possibly contain hidden messages meant for rebels? If there is a rebel spy at Fresh Water, why would they send such missives to me?" The wife of a British Colonel could hardly be considered a reliable agent to pass along sensitive information to rebels about the British. Of course, she'd done just that in the past, but the Corporal did not know this. "I do hope you are not suggesting that I am a threat, or a spy?" That would be a very dangerous thing to do. Of course, Cornwallis had done precisely that, he did suspect her. But these lower ranking soldiers didn't know that. The Corporal gaped at her, his mouth actually hanging open, she felt he was again striving for another excuse to not give her the letters. Before they were burned… She caught the bottom of the leather packet, he held tight, their eyes locked. "You will give it to me, or you will answer to Colonel Tarleton."

"His orders come from Colonel Tarleton," a woman's voice said behind her and Beth glanced over her shoulder, meeting Nancy's eyes. Briefly, for Nancy lowered hers as if ashamed afraid. The sentry growled under his breath, seizing her arm - another who'd entered without his leave. "He has ta give all yer letters to Lieutenant Lyons, who holds 'em for Colonel Tarleton. I'm sorry for not telling yeh," Nancy whispered as the sentry started to push her outside. "I'm so sorry."

His orders came from Banastre - and Nancy knew of them. Had known all along. Betrayed by camp followers - again. Beth turned her gaze back to the Corporal.

"Those letters are mine, they will be given to me. I am going to speak with Lyons right now," she said in a voice cold as winter. With that, she stormed from the tent. There was no fearing that the Officer would destroy the letters - burn them, as Alby said, for they had to be handed to Lyons first, and Lyons held them for Banastre. Who did what with them? Her blood was boiling, her pulse thudded in her temple. Mrs. Garland and a terrified followed, struggling to keep up. Lyons was with Electa - in her tent, Beth now knew where to find him even if the previously sent soldiers did not. This part of the camp was mostly empty save for a few tents spread out among the trees. She could hear Lyons before she reached the tent, his heavy panting and grunted pleas. The flap was tied shut from the inside, Beth made short work of that by sliding a small knife all the way up the slit, cutting through the knotted bows. She shoved the flap aside and was assaulted by the stench of sweat and stale whiskey, and by the sight of the two lovers - naked - writhing on the thin blanket on the ground. Lyons's bare rump rose and fell, his eyes were squeezed shut, he was so lost to his orgasm that he had no idea that he had unwanted company. Beth sneered, repulsed by the sight. "Sir, a word if you will?"

Lyons yelped like a kicked dog. Panting he grabbed a blanket and hauled it over himself, though it didn't save Beth the sight of his phallus - squirting with the seed of his orgasm - as it was pulled from Electa's quim. Beth took a ginger step back as a jet of sperm shot toward her and landed on the ground just where her feet had been.

"What the devil is this?" Lyons shouted, his pudgy face turning red with rage. "Get the hell out of here!"

"I beg your pardon?" Beth towered over the Lieutenant as he huddled there on the ground. Who did he think he was speaking to? Lyons seemed to ask himself that same question. He struggled to contain himself, even as he finally - finally! - managed to cover his nudity with the thin blanket. His tone was vastly mollified when he answered.

"I beg yours. What can I do for you, Mrs. Tavington?" He asked, looking absurd as he asked with such a polite tone while being in such a compromising position.

"Much better," Beth said. Electa sat up. The black haired woman stretched, her taut breasts rising with her, and she gave Beth a lopsided, saucy smile. Beth struggled, deciding at the last moment not to slap her. To Lyons, she said, "you will tell me precisely how many of my letters you have handed to Colonel Tarleton instead of to me."

Lyons gaped, his jaw dropping. He snapped his mouth shut. Too late, she saw the truth on his face, not that she'd doubted it.

"I'm sure I do not know what you mean," he began, only to fall silent when Beth held up her hand. It was an imperious, demanding gesture, but one he - a Lieutenant - had no obligation to obey. Still, he shut up at her behest; naked as he was - his blanket his only defence - she had the upper hand.

"Sir, if you do not tell me the truth, this very moment, then as soon as Colonel Tarleton returns I shall tell him that you got yourself soused, when he expressly forbade all drinking," she pointed at the empty bottle, then studied his face, his bleary, red shot eyes. His features crinkled with worry. "Further to that, I shall inform the Colonel that two soldiers have been sent to find you, but they are bound to be unsuccessful, for you've been lolling about with Electa all morning. Your men have need of you and you've made yourself inaccessible. I assure you, he shall not be pleased," she warned.

"He will not be pleased if I answer you honestly, either," he spat.

"Choose your battles, Sir," Beth advised, voice cold. "You will tell me how many letters have been kept from me. However, if you fear repercussions, I shall allay your fears by promising not to inform Colonel Tarleton where I got my information from. As long as Electa and Nancy can keep their mouths shut, the Colonel need never learn that you spoke a word." Lyons seemed to think they were trustworthy enough, for he decided to answer her.

"Too many to count," he replied, astonishing Beth. "You've been with us three months, my lady, and in that time… too many to count," he shrugged his bare shoulders.

"From whom?" She gasped. "Did you see their names?"

"God, I can't remember them all… Colonel Tavington has sent… uh… six, I believe. Every fortnight, one arrives from him. You received the very first of those, I believe. Then there's those from Mrs. Farshaw, Mrs. Bordon, Miss ah - Wilson?"

"Wilkins?" Beth felt like weeping, the fight draining from her as she became overwhelmed. William had written to her. Cilla had also. All of them had, and there was another packet, another to be held back from her.

"Ah, yes, perhaps that was it. There were others - I don't remember."

"And you gave them all to Colonel Tarleton?" She asked, trying to hold back the tears. "Did he ever explain why?"

"I just follow my commands, Madam."

"He reads my correspondence? And then hands them back to you to be burned?"

Lyons was nodding, but at this last he shook his head. "No, madam. He does the burning."

"Dear God," she bit her lip, squeezed her eyes shut. The hand laid on her shoulder was meant to offer sympathy and comfort but Beth shrugged it away and spat, "don't you touch me," at Nancy, who recoiled, then burst into tears.

"Hey! You made her cry!" Mrs. Garland frowned, disapproving.

Fury lanced through her, Beth glared at Mrs. Garland, ignored Nancy's tears, and turned to Lyons. "Pray tell me, Sir. How fat where the letters my husband sent?"

"Fat?" Lyons asked, looking confused.

That first one from William - the only one she'd received though now she understood he'd sent more, he'd sent with it a nice fat, heavy purse and wallet. She recalled now how Banastre had proceeded to take money that was meant for her, he used it to pay back his debts without even asking her if he could, until she put an abrupt stop to it. And now six more had arrived? William would not be writing her love letters - he would have been sending the stipend he'd promised. "Did Colonel Tarleton confiscate my money?"

"I do not know what he did with it after I gave it to him," Lyons shrugged.

"Then you admit it - my husband sent me money!"

"Yes, madam," Lyons said. His face was turning a little green, as though he might throw up. She wondered if he regretted allowing her to blackmail him. Surely being found out for getting drunk and whoring while on duty would be much more preferable than being found out for revealing things he shouldn't to Banastre's mistress? Which would give him the greater punishment?

"Oh, you're not going to have a lovers quarrel, are you?" Electa stretched again, arms overhead, arching her back, her breasts rode high and free, pure satisfaction on her face. Beth wouldn't have been surprised if she began to purr. At first, Beth thought Electa was hoping that Beth would fight with Banastre so Electa could have him all to herself again. But then as she began to dress, Electa said, "you and I could slip away… If you need someone to talk to, I mean. We could go someplace quiet…" she smiled, alluring, winding a lock of black hair around her finger. Banastre had told Beth since that night, how Electa had been disappointed at being sent away - not only because she didn't get to sport with Banastre, but because she hadn't been able to sport with Beth.

"Worse than Phoebe," Beth muttered. To Lyons, she said, "a packet has arrived for me today. I will have it, Sir. You will give me permission to take it."

"Madam, I will do no such thing -"

"I will tell him! You needn't think I won't!" She shouted, her voice so loud, Nancy winced and threw her hands over her ears. "Whiskey! When he expressly commanded that no one touch a drop! Whoring, when you should be at your post! Your men are looking for you yet you're in here rutting with Electa! It is inexcusable! Any hope you harbour for advancement will be shot! Colonel Tarleton will have you strung up -"

"He'll string me up for this anyway!" Lyons shouted back.

"You're in too far already, you've revealed as much as I need. I don't care what the Colonel commanded of you, those letters are mine and I will have them, Sir. Now!" Beth was standing over him, right over him, her nose in his face.

"Damn and blast it, he's going to have my head as it is!" Lyons lurched to his feet, he wrapped the blanket around his waist, thank the Gods. That was a sight Beth had no desire to see again. Lyons stumbled across the tent - it was only small, he did not have far to go. Still, he stumbled and weaved and nearly fell, nearly dropped the blanket, too. He was utterly soused. He pulled a satchel from under the small table and flipped it open. "Here, take it," he spat after writing on a piece of paper, giving his permission for the letters to be given to her. "My death sentence, you damned shrew! Who told you about the letters?" He glared past her at Nancy.

"Nobody needed to tell me; I heard your Corporal speaking of them while I was waiting outside the tent. I guess he forgot how thin tent walls are," with that she strode out of the tent and - ignoring Mrs. Garland and Nancy following her - returned to the post tent, where she retrieved her letters from an astonished Corporal. How long before she could confront Banastre? Days, perhaps. Dear God above, that was too long. She felt like mounting Shadow Dancer then and there and chasing the bastard down. And then? What then? What did this mean for them?

Later, she told herself. Those decisions were too daunting to face now. With her packet in her hand, she marched back to her fire and gave Nancy a silencing glare. Mrs. Garland was panting, having been forced to run about the camp after Beth. Beth perched on a log, the packet in her hands. A small strip of parchment was attached to the wallet and in cursive writing "Mrs. Elizabeth Tavington" was written quite clearly, by whomever complied the letters for back at Fresh Water. There were three in this packet, she saw William's handwriting, and then Harmony's, which was every bit as unwelcome. Still, her heart twisted at seeing both. But the third was Cilla's - finally, a letter from Cilla! Deciding to save the best for last, she opened William's first.

It contained a bank note worth thirty pounds. The letter itself was addressed to her, her name written in the top left corner. Apart from that, all he wrote was, "You will find enclosed your fortnightly stipend. As I have not heard from you, I shall assume that the sum is sufficient to your needs. If it is not, I shall increase it. Colonel Tav. Etc". No endearments, all of this took up one line on the page. Fortnightly stipend, the amount of which would not have have changed since the first letter Banastre confiscated, for she hadn't written to William to ask for more. He'd been sending this exact amount every two weeks.

And Banastre had been keeping it. This latest letter would be the sixth from William. Banastre was stealing from her! Her fingers trembled - with rage, fury, heart break, she knew not what. She needed good news, something to help calm her, and so decided not to leave Cilla's for last. Setting aside the money, she opened Cilla's long awaited letter. And immediately deduced from the opening line, that while this was the first to reach Beth, it was certainly not the first one Cilla had sent.

Shockingly, Electa wafted over and, ignoring Beth's glare, she took a seat across from Nancy, who was looking quite miserable. Before Beth could dismiss Electa, Mrs. Garland said, "what do they say? Not bad news, I hope."

"It's definitely bad news." Everything about this is bad news. How dare he? Keeping back her letters, stealing from her! It was all bad news, alright. "But not from home," Beth spat, turning her attention to Cilla's letter. Was there any point sending Electa away? She already knew enough. It was so cold and Electa didn't have a cape - if she didn't stay by the fire she might take sick. Beth heaved a furious breath, uncertain why she cared. She should be sending Nancy away too, the damned little traitor. Instead, she concentrated on her letter, the question still niggling at her. Why would Banastre keep Cilla's letters back from her? When he knew how desperately she yearned for a single word! The women began to talk quietly among themselves, Mrs. Garland soothing 'poor Nancy', who wept quietly. Trying to shut them from her mind, Beth began to read.

Lieutenant Lyons, fully dressed and almost in command of himself, came striding toward the small group of women. Beth stared unblinking as he approached, barely registering him or the fury on his face. The other women saw it, they huddled together, frightened of a scolding or worse. The view of him swam before her, tears making her vision blurred. He was glaring but that seemed to ease when he saw her distress. Still, he came to them on a mission and that mission would not be set aside.

"Ladies," he said, voice hard, there was no slurring now. "Upon considering our… dilemma, I have decided that we shall tell Colonel Tarleton that when the post rider arrived today, the camp began to gather at the post tent. Mrs. Tavington heard her name being discussed, and was let inside. Mrs. Tavington saw her own packet at the top of the pile. Not thinking that she needed to ask permission to take her own letters, she picked the packet up and departed the tent. The Corporal had his back to the door, he did not see what happened until after it happened. There is no need for you to get into trouble, Nancy," he fixed her with a glare that left no room for doubt - the Corporal had revealed to Lyons what Nancy had said in the tent. "If you adhere to this, you will not get whipped or sent from the camp."

Nancy drew a shuddering breath.

"And nor will you," Beth said, feeling wrung out like a dish rag. She met his gaze. "If we stick to this story, you save your own skin; please do not pretend that you have gone to these lengths for anyone but yourself."

"You got your letters," he shot back. "What do you care if we hide behind a white lie or two? Or would you rather I be whipped?"

"You can go to hell, for all I care. You and Colonel Tarleton both."

"Oh. Well. Ahem… Very well," he nodded curtly, not seeming to know what else to do, then turned on his heel and strode away.

Beth felt the weight of the other women's eyes on her, she couldn't even drum up anger for Nancy, not now that she knew the truth. She bowed her head, unable to look at the others; ashamed of the way she'd treated the camp followers in Banastre's camp. The camp followers back at Fresh Water never betrayed her, yet Nancy had taken the brunt of her frustration and anger, just the same. Miss Cordell should have told her that Linda Stokes was boasting about having an affair, but Beth could understand now what a difficult position Miss Cordell had been placed in. There was so much she would need to apologise for, starting with Mrs. Garland and Nancy. Nevertheless, the shame she felt so acutely was nothing compared to her anguish. William had tried to tell her, he'd tried to explain, and she'd screamed at him, railed like mad thing, humiliating herself and him.

She wrapped her arms around herself, fingernails driving into her flesh as she began to rock back and forth. William had been faithful all along, she'd been too deranged to let him tell his side. Deranged enough to flee him entirely - with another man. A sob burst from her lips, she lifted a trembling hand to her mouth, feeling as out of control as she had that day, when she'd looked William in the eye and told him she would slash his throat in his sleep, that she'd never take him back even if he begged. She'd called him 'Betrayer', refusing to believe otherwise.

But he never had. And Banastre had known it almost from the start.

Banastre was the Betrayer.

William was the Innocent.

Dear God, he'd taken his belt to her, flogged her so she could barely sit for the agony, but he was still the Innocent. And she the one to blame. She wrapped her arms around herself again and this time, Mrs. Garland saw what she was doing, the pinching and digging into her flesh with her fingernails, the damage she was causing herself under the layers of her clothes. Her wrists were seized and Mrs. Garland's vision swam before her.

"Stop it, you're hurting yourself."

"I'm so sorry," Beth whispered, for all of it - her treatment of Mrs. Garland who'd never done a thing wrong. Her treatment of Nancy, the other women. Miss Cordell, Mrs. Andrews.

"Just breathe." The voice was familiar, Mrs. Garland, but it sounded far, far away. "Take a breath, then another." But Beth could barely concentrate, all she could think about was the people she'd hurt. Richard. Oh, Gods Harmony! And William… Dear God, William. "No, no more of that," Mrs. Garland's voice was firm when Beth snatched her hands away to drive fingernails into flesh. Thwarted, she sunk her teeth into her bottom lip with a groan, tasting blood. "Jesus, this is madness, 'I think I might need to slap her,' she heard Mrs. Garland say, followed by Nancy's cry of protest.

Madness. She was deranged - she felt it all over again. The last time she'd been this out of control, she'd fled from her husband with Banastre, dishonouring them both, destroying their lives. She could not allow herself to become so unhinged, not when she was capable of doing so much damage to herself and those she loved. Who would suffer for her this time? Her baby? She pulled her teeth out of the cut and gently sucked at the blood, and concentrated on her breathing as Mrs. Garland instructed. It did not lessen the pain, the grief, remorse, disgust at herself - not by far. It was all there, every bit as strong as before. But Mrs. Garland noticed and she lowered her raised hand - she had been about to slap her. Then she pulled Beth against her chest and cradled her, patting her back as she would a child and whispering "there, there, cry it out."

It'd take an ocean to cry this out - an ocean and every lake and river in the Colonies. But Beth did what she had not done in months - she surrendered gave in to the comfort offered by a camp follower, someone she knew now that she could trust above all others; surrendering completely, letting the other woman's strong arms and rocking soothe. A hand on her back - Nancy's, she knew. She wished she could keep her eyes closed forever, wished she never had to face either woman again. The way she'd treated them, and still they came to her in her need, offering comfort. stood by her. She slumped in Mrs. Garland's arms, strength draining from her muscles like water.

"She'll tell us what is wrong when she calms," Mrs. Garland said to Nancy. Beth, hearing her, knew she'd never have the words. She handed Mrs. Garland the letter, but stayed otherwise still, in the woman's arms. Though startled, Mrs. Garland began to read. The woman needed to know, she was her midwife, she needed to know what Beth was going through - even in her current state, Beth understood that distress like this could harm her baby.

"What does this mean?" Mrs. Garland asked after a time. "Did you think your husband had an affair?"

"Yes," Beth whispered, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. She made no move to leave the circle of Mrs. Garland's arms as she began to explain, the pain of it making her voice thin. She told them all of it, forgetting entirely that Electa was there as well, listening. It took a while. "I never would have believed otherwise, not even coming from Cilla," she said weakly. "I would have thought they'd tricked her into believing them, somehow. But she says -"

"She overheard the two women talking - Mrs. Farshaw and Mrs. Cox?" Mrs. Garland said and when Beth nodded, she continued, "when neither of them could know that she was there, listening. And she heard Mrs. Cox admit to everything. Well…" Mrs. Garland trailed off, not seeming to know what to say.

"I've been awful to you," Beth forced herself to say. It was never an easy thing to do - admitting fault. But she found the strength to do so, somehow, from somewhere. Some hidden core, a very small reserve that she tapped into now. "All of you. Especially you, Nancy -" she met the younger girls eyes and her own welled up, her voice a wretched sob.

"Don't," Nancy was on her knees and throwing her arms around Beth, "don't, because then I'll cry and then -" what would happen then, Beth never learned for Nancy did begin to sob. Weeping - as contagious as yawning. When one started…

"Well, you've been quite interesting to live with, I'll give you that," Mrs. Garland said, rubbing Beth's back while Nancy and Beth embraced. "I'm well pleased all that hoity-toity behaviour is at an end. It is at an end, isn't it?"

"Yes," Beth whispered softly, hanging her head.

"Well, I'll just be glad to have that over and done, there's no need for you punish yourself over it. It'll be a fine thing, getting to know the true you, I think."

"I don't think… I'll be here long enough," she met Mrs. Garland's eyes. "I can't stay here. I have to leave."

"Yes, you do," Mrs. Garland said gravely. She said slowly, softly, as if reluctant to deliver this blow yet determined to do so. "You need to return to your husband."

"No," Beth shook her head. "Never that. He… He swore he'd never… Take me back. Even if I begged… on bended knee. I always wondered why he'd think I'd ever do that - but now I understand. He knew he was innocent, he knew that one day I'd realise it too -" a sob welled up in her throat, choking off her words. "I can't… Go back to him. I'll go to my Aunties. They'll take me in. They'll welcome me."

"And your husband won't?"

"After three months disgracing him with Banastre?" Beth said, voice thin and high, self-recriminating. "After lying to him about my virginity?" She shook her head. "He'll never take me back and I don't think I want to return there. He beat me. I'm certain there are some people who'd say I deserved it, but he beat me with his belt and I could barely walk after and it was agony to sit. It wasn't the first time he'd raised his hand to me, either, though in truth, I've struck him, too. I just… I can't go back to him, regardless of who was wrong or who was right. We've done too much harm to one another."

"Well, perhaps it's not something that needs to be considered now - you don't need to decide upon it immediately."

"It is over," Beth shook her head stubbornly. "But now it has to end with Banastre, too. I can't stay here."

"He kept these letters… after reading them. He knew your husband never strayed," Mrs. Garland cut to the heart of it.

""If that was all he'd done, I still wouldn't be able to forgive him. But he stole from me. The money my husband sent, my stipend, which comes from my inheritance," she drew back from Nancy, all three women sat on the ground now, Electa watching from her perch on the log. Beth pointed at the note William had sent. "He's been sending me those every fortnight. Banastre has been burning the letters and keeping my money."

All three women looked horrified.

"Maybe… Maybe he burned the bank notes, too?" Nancy asked and Beth barked a short laugh.

"He owes money left, right and centre. The very first stipend William sent to me, Banastre tried to use to pay his debts, until I stopped him. He would never destroy money," Beth shook her head.

"There's something else," Electa said. Beth glanced at the woman - at least she was still deserving of Beth's malice, wasn't she? Beth sighed; no, not even Electa deserved to be treated poorly… "And he bedded me, after bringing you here," Electa admitted. Beth's jaw dropped, she met the woman's eyes again. Perhaps she did deserve Beth's malice, after all! "That night, when he… well, you know. Invited me to… dine with you..?"

"Dine?" Beth lifted her chin.

"Yes, well," Electa coughed, embarrassed. "Let's call it that, yes? Anyway, when he -"

"Escorted you back to the tent," Beth finished, heaving a sigh as she slapped her hand to her forehead. "How could I be so stupid?"

"And a few times since…" Electa said. "You two haven't been getting along all that well, lately. He told me you won't read to him anymore, whatever that means. I would have thought you'd be more interested in doing other things than reading…"

The book - the damned book - was still buried in her portmanteaus, it hadn't seen the light of day for days now. How often had he gone to Electa with his complaints?

"Lord I don't know what's worse, his infidelity or that he would complain to you about me! He's a damned prick," Beth sighed again. "I wish I could be angry, I truly do. I hate feeling like this - regret and grief and disgust; anger is so much easier!" Her voice broke.

"Which is why men always embrace it. But women should strive to look deeper," Mrs. Garland said. "To face our wrong doings head on, to admit when we've behaved poorly."

"Oh gods, I have that," Beth said emphatically. "How could I be so stupid?" Biting her lip - not as hard as before, but it stung all the same - she said, "I've hurt so - many - people. Harmony. Richard. My father. Mrs. Andrews. Miss Cordell. William." She closed her eyes, then said, "you two, and the other women…"

"Well, forgiveness has to start somewhere," Mrs. Garland said. "It shall begin with us. What say you, Nancy?"

"Of course!" Impulsive, was Nancy; but Beth was grateful for it now. "I'm sure the others will, too."

"I don't think I can face them," Beth said quietly, suddenly daunted by the other women she'd treated so poorly, whether it was by lording it over them or outright ignoring them. She'd made no effort to be even slightly likeable. "I will apologise, but…"

"Yes, I believe you owe them that much," Mrs. Garland said. "They're not monsters, they won't make it hard on you." Beth nodded.

"I should reply to Cilla," she said woodenly. "Now, while we're stopped for a time. I might not get another chance and she needs to know I finally received her letter. I have to write to Harmony as well, and…"

"Your husband?"

Beth shook her head in the negative. Mrs. Garland looked resigned, and disapproving.

"I'll let Cilla know I'm going to Gullah to live with my aunties."

"How will you get there?" Nancy asked. "Is it far?"

"Hundreds of miles from here. I don't know how yet, but I know for sure that I can't stay here. Will someone help me up? My legs feel so weak…" Mrs. Garland and Nancy both rose, offering their hands to Beth to help her to her feet. Beth took a tentative step, realised that there was strength left in her body after all. She could walk, albeit slowly. "I'll need my lap desk -"

"I'll get it -"

"Nancy, you're not my maid anymore," Beth said, hoping to bridge the gap between them a little. Nancy didn't have to be her servant anymore; but if Beth thought this would make the girl happy, she was wrong.

"You don't want me?" Nancy asked in a small voice.

"No - I didn't mean..! It'd just… You don't have to jump every time I say 'how high', not anymore. We can work together, instead. You don't have to be my maid."

"Oh," Nancy hung her head, the toe of her shoe digging in the dirt.

"I think Mrs. Tavington is trying to say that she'd like to be friends, Nancy," Mrs. Garland said and Nancy's head came up, her large eyes wider than normal.

"Truly?"

"Unless you enjoy emptying her chamber pot," Electa said. "You can be my maid, if you'd like."

"Shut it, Electa," Beth said without taking her eyes off Nancy. She held her arms out again and the two stepped into the embrace, sealing the beginning of a friendship. Nancy was fair beaming as they turned toward the baggage train, where Beth's portmanteaus, lap desk and other belongs were stored. The three women walked slowly, arm in arm, with Electa following behind. Beth wasn't certain where the doxy fit in, she would never take the other woman to her bed as Electa and Banastre had wanted, but no longer could she find it within herself to be contemptuous of her. Beth was no better, after all.

After all this time, she was back to this - hitting rock bottom and discovering she was no better than anyone else. It was a good thing - Gods, she'd been acting like Emily Wilkins, for a while there. No wonder the other women despised her. Thinking of William, she reeled, and was grateful for the two arms around her waist. She felt very much as she had the day her mother had died, tears never far from the surface, always threatening to spill over, the remotest thought setting her off. She did not have long to think on William - which was good for it hurt so damned much - for cries sounded throughout the camp as soldiers began to straggle in. The women stopped dead in their tracks, staring at the men. Some stumbling on exhausted legs, some running as if for the lives - into the camp. Lieutenant Lyons - appearing somewhat sober now - strode across the camp to meet them. Women ran forward, calling out for news of a loved one, one fell to her knees when she was informed that her husband was dead. Dread overrode all else, Beth met Nancy's eyes, and then Mrs. Garland's, as word began to spread of the terrible defeat the Legion had suffered.

Defeat.

Beth swayed.

It couldn't be true - Banastre had never lost a battle in his life.

Then again, he'd never come up against General Burwell.

"It was a slaughter," she heard one man yell as he threw his arms wide, blood smearing his fury filled face. "He marched us night and day, we didn't stop once - I haven't eaten in two days and yet he sends us in, exhausted - to be slaughtered! For his pride!" He spat a great globule onto the ground. "That, for Colonel Tarleton, may the devil take him!"

"Soldier, you'll be whipped for treason!" Lyons bellowed.

"Then you'll have to whip us all!" The fellow yelled back. More men poured into the camp, Redcoats smeared with mud and blood. So many men, they soon outnumbered Lyons' Company and there were still more coming.

"Burwell won't be far behind us!" One man said with urgency to his companion as they passed Beth and the other women. "I ain't staying here to be butchered, I'm going home!"

"You'd desert?" Beth gasped, stunned. The fellow didn't hear her, he pressed onward toward the wagons.

"Exhausted, I tell you!" The other soldier was still yelling at Lyons, as the company began to form up behind the Lieutenant. The soldier was not alone, however - ten, twenty, soon thirty men came to stand behind him. "Day and damned night! Two days since we ran out of food. He pushed and pushed, then sent us in to battle without stopping for so much as a sip of water! They'd scatter, he said. They always scatter, the militia. Only this time, they didn't, did they?" The man stood right up to a silent Lyons, face to face, nose to nose. "This time, they fucking held their line! One shot, then another. Those retreated, making us think we had the day and that stupid little pup as calls himself Colonel screams in for us to charge! Only there was another line, wasn't there? We couldn't see them 'till we was right on top of them. And behind that lot was the damned Continentals - Dragoons and all! Tarleton charged us straight into hell! I don't even know how many died - how many were captured! That for Tarleton," he spat again and shoved past Lyons, who made to grab him only to be thwarted by the men coming up behind. They looked like rabble, even in the British uniform, and they were starting to act like it. They pushed forward, shoving past Lyons and the small Company and headed straight for the wagons.

"They're plundering," Mrs. Garland whispered, watching as the disgruntled soldiers began to throw down what they could from the wagons. Several of the more enterprising among them leapt into the drivers seats and began clucking at horses to lead the caravans away. Beth saw her own portmanteaus thrown over the side and a fellow tore it open, which is when she discovered she had strength left in her after all. Hiking up her skirts, she ran toward the fellow, though Alby Scott and Adam Danvers got there first. She arrived to hear Alby say "you might want to move on to easier pickings, friend," with his musket levelled at the fellow's face. The deserter raised his hands then began to back away. Beth stopped at Alby's side, panting for air from the hard run. Adam was kneeling, picking up her clothes and shoving them back into the chest. He picked up the book - damned Fanny Hill - and he shoved it back into the chest. She wiped sweat from her brow, relieved he didn't read the title.

It was chaos, absolute mayhem. Beth looked all around her, watching as Lyons tried to gain control, failing miserably. Those ransacking were making short work of the wagons, throwing things down while yet others simply began driving them away. Mayhem. So much could disappear in such chaos - people, horses… She turned to Alby.

"It's time for us to go," she said slowly, feeling the weight of her decision settle on her shoulders, at the same time that relief lightened it. Very strange sensation, that. He gaped at her, Adam lurched to his feet, stunned. Looking at the madness, she said, "now is the time. There's no way Lyons could chase you down with so many others deserting. If you have anything valuable among your belongings, I suggest you fetch it quickly."

"All I need is this," Alby said, nodding toward his musket. "You said us… You're coming, aren't you?"

"Yes," she said. "We'll leave this if we have to," she kicked the chest. "We can't carry it, but if you can give me enough time to get a few things from it." She wouldn't leave her diary there, or her money, a few clothes. The rest suddenly didn't matter anymore, even though she'd ran quickly enough to save it from that thief a few moments ago. She stared across the camp, picking out the camp followers. Nancy was there, talking to a soldier. She had her arms wrapped around her body and was crying for some reason - Mrs. Garland was seeing to her, while Electa stood there looking confused, uncertain. She owed them apologies, every single last camp follower. Well, except for Electa, perhaps. But it was now or never - she could get Alby and Adam out now, during the confusion, their chance of being caught and hung for desertion was quite small. And she could get out, as well. Should she leave Banastre a letter? She quickly decided that he would learn why she left soon enough. Lyons would tell Banastre that she'd taken possession of her letters, and Banastre would know that she knew everything. She looked over the camp followers - again with regret, she was leaving without apologising, without trying to make amends. But if she didn't leave now, would she be able to, later? They could slip away easily in this chaos now but when Banastre returned, she doubted very much that he'd simply let her go. "I'll pack as much as I can carry. Will you go and get Shadow Dancer for me?" She asked, adding. "And Thunder. I will allow Banastre to use Thunder as a trophy no longer." Alby gave her an odd look, then told Adam to stay and protect her while he left to get the horses. Beth knelt by her chest, pulled free one of her capes to use as a carry bag. She spread it out then began placing her chosen belongings in the centre. When she was done, she tied the corners, then stood back with Adam - who took his charge to protect her quite seriously as they settled in to wait for Alby.