Chapter 145 - Ramsour's Mill:
"I have to tell him about my father," Beth said quietly, when she was calmer. "I don't want to speak to him, but there's so much I have to tell him."
"Perhaps he'll come back," Harmony said as she rubbed Beth's back. "When he's calmed down a bit."
"Maybe. I don't think this can wait for him to decide he feels up to chatting. Will you go to him, Harm? Will you give him this?" she tried to hand Harmony the letter. "And then come back and tell me what he said?"
Harmony stared at the letter, then groaned. "I'm far, far too pregnant to be go between, Beth. Walking kills me as it is, let alone back and forth, to you to him, to deliver messages you could give to one another yourselves."
"I doubt you'll have to. Give him that, he'll soon know my father is free and he'll come back here for the rest of the story swiftly enough," Beth said bitterly. "That's definitely something he will wish to talk about."
"Now?" Harmony asked, unsure. "Are you up to speaking with him again so soon?"
"It doesn't matter if I'm up to it or not. He needs to know and I will not be accused of withholding it from him. If he doesn't come back - then it'll be his problem, not mine."
"Do you want me to speak to him about the baby?" Harmony asked.
"No. He went flying out of here without giving me the chance to tell him, clearly he does not want it. Or me. I can hardly blame him either, with what I've done. I've done what my father wanted, Harmony. I came back to William, it seems he is rejecting me far quicker than my father imagined he would. I am going to go to the Ferguson's. My father will help me raise the child."
"I'll go talk to William," Harmony sighed.
Harmony stood at William's side, waiting for him to finish speaking to Brownlow. Although he wasn't snapping at Brownlow, there was definitely a tension in William's voice. In his gaze. In every line of his body. His face was cold, hard, as if he'd forgotten to smile. Eventually, the new Captain doffed his hat to Harmony and went on his way, and William turned to face her.
"It's yours," she said. "The baby."
In an instant, his features shifted from tense to outright fury. His eyes narrowed, his brows drew downward, he took a full step toward her and hissed, "don't. Don't you dare."
She drew in a sharp breath, her eyes widening as she took an involuntary step back. Recovering herself, she lifted her chin. "Very well. She asked me to give you this." She held out the letter. "It's from her father."
"How did she come by a letter from her father? He is at Winnsboro."
"No, William, he is not. Her brothers helped her father to escape Winnsboro."
"What..?" He breathed, his mouth falling open.
"Colonel Martin has been rescued," Harmony said. Tavington stared for another heartbeat, before brushing past her. He would return to the carriage now. She pressed the letter against his chest, stopping him in his tracks. "Take it. Read it first, before speaking to her."
He glanced down at her hand, lifted his gaze to hers, then snatched the letter from her fingers and strode away.
The Legion was moving at a crawl, the carriage trundled along so slowly William did not have to wait for it to stop before climbing back in. He did not let his eyes drop any lower than Beth's shoulders, though in truth, her stomach was hidden again by the blanket, which she now clutched at her neck. She met his eyes and looked away, tensing visibly at his entrance. She'd been crying, her eyes were swollen and red, her cheeks wet. He stared hard at her.
"What is this about your father?" He asked crisply.
"My brothers helped him to escape," she replied simply. He gave her a withering glare. No one escaped the British camps - no one. He wanted a more in-depth explanation. Very well. She folded her hands in her lap. "Do you know that Calvin Farshaw was a spy for the rebels?" He nodded curtly. "He listened in on conversations. He copied every important missive that crossed Major Fallows' desk. And he forged a copy of O'Hara's and Fallows' seals out of clay, and copied their ciphers as well. Added to that, he practiced copying their handwriting until he could mimic it perfectly."
William was staring at her, face hard and horrified.
"When Calvin fled Fresh Water after killing Fallows, he went in search of my father. You know the rest -"
"Yes, your father used Farshaw as bait, to capture me," William said harshly. "So he could whip me, for giving you that strapping."
"I daresay they did far more damage to you than you did to me," she said. It came out unapologetic but in truth, she wasn't entirely certain how she felt about it. If they'd strapped William the same as he had her, with a belt for instance, well, fair's fair, isn't it? An eye for an eye? But they had strung William up, and they each took turns in using a whip on his bare back. She shuddered, just thinking about it. William - she knew - had no idea of her thoughts or her conflict; she saw rage flare across his face a split moment before his hand darted out and his fingers seized her jaw, pushing her head back. He leaned in close.
"They did," he ground out. "Shall I show it to you? The scars?"
She glared at him over the fingers holding her, he was not releasing her, so she slapped her hand against his face. Not a hard slap - just enough to let him know she was having none of it. "He told me what he said to you," she said crisply. "The warning he gave. Beat me again, and you'll regret it."
He snapped his fingers away and curled his lip. "What does Farshaw have to do with your father's escape?"
She smoothed her skirts, taking the time she needed to compose herself.
"My brothers told me they came to Fresh Water to inform you of Captain Dalton's death, and the murder of his unit," she said and saw a dangerous glint enter his eyes. "I'm sorry for him, for them, but most of all for Dalton. He was a good man."
"I do not care for your condolences," he said and she drew a shuddering breath. It hurt more than she cared to admit.
"Fine, then. When they left Fresh Water," she adopted a more formal tone, voice crisp as she clung to the facts, "General Burwell commanded them to find my uncle and retrieve the seal and cipher. Thomas, Nathan, several of my father's militia, and Nicholas Watson -"
"I beg your pardon?" William leaned in again. "What did you just say?"
"Watson survived the shooting in Charlestown, he helped my uncle get to safety," she said matter-of-factly.
"Your brothers mentioned nothing of that when they told me of your uncle!"
"Take it up with them," she shrugged. "I'm telling you now. He is an Officer, holds the rank of Lieutenant, in my father's Company. Burwell charged him and the others with retrieving the seal and cipher. Which they did. They found my uncle. Farshaw was with him, likely still is now. They came to an agreement -"
"What agreement?"
"Burwell would speak for Uncle Mark if his killing of your Dragoons ever comes to court-martial with the higher up Patriots, like Rutledge. He will defend Uncle Mark. He is actually going to try to make sure it doesn't even get that far. Uncle Mark will get away with killing your men, for his cooperation."
"That God damned bastard," William breathed, stunned.
"My uncle took the offer; he handed over to my brothers and Watson the seal and cipher, and had several letters to cover different scenarios, written by Farshaw in O'Hara's forged hand."
"Your brothers colluded with Farshaw?" His voice rose and his face turned an ugly shade of red blotched fury.
"My brothers would have done anything to get my father out of the death trap Cornwallis put him in," Beth replied, iron in her voice. When she continued, her voice was soft again, formal. "Watson chose the letter that best suited the situation he found himself in when he reached Winnsboro. He told one General Johnson, that it was a prisoner exchange, authorised by Lord Cornwallis. Their plan worked, General Johnson handed my father over to them, though Nathan attributes the General's poor health as a factor of their success- he was so ill, he was barely able to stand."
William stared at her, eyes hard. She held his gaze for several long moments, before returning to her inspection of her fingers. "Where is your father now?"
"I do not know," she replied. "He has removed himself from Burwell's command and he said he will be staying in the area for a while before heading back into South Carolina -"
"Why did he remove himself from Burwell's command?"
"They had an argument," she replied shortly. "They are friends no longer."
William snorted, as if he didn't believe a word of it. "Why is he staying here?"
"He is following General Greene's orders to harass the British forces while Greene continues the drive back toward Virginia."
"He told you that?"
"Yes."
"You said your brothers bought you here. Were they going to return to your father, after leaving you here?"
"Yes, of course they did," she replied.
"By which road did they travel?"
Her breath caught, William had taken in everything she'd said, and now he intended to go after her brothers, and her father. After all she'd just told him, what would happen to her brothers if he caught them? Tell him everything, leave the protecting of us to us. Her father's advice, before they parted. Beth opened her mouth, told William precisely by what road her brothers had travelled and how many men they had with them.
"How long ago?"
"It's been a few hours since I arrived."
He nodded. He snapped open the letter and began to read. She watched the differing expressions playing across his features - frustration, anger, incredulity. At one point, his lips thinned and his fingers gripped the parchment so hard, she thought it might tear. My father telling William the child is his, she thought. This thought was confirmed when William's eyes flew up to hers, she could see the scorn and disbelief there, before he threw them back down to the letter. When he reached the end, he said, "the Ferguson's, hmm?" He met her gaze. "Very well." He reached for the door, began to step down. She felt a moment of panic, Beth seized his sleeve and held on tight, stopping him. Poised with his foot on the step down, he flung his head to her.
"Yes?" He snapped. "You have something more to say?"
Don't send me away. Gods, I love you so much, please don't send me away!
Her fingers released their grip, her hand fell away.
"No," she said softly. "I don't think there is anything more to be said."
He gave her a curt look, stepped down and closed the door behind him.
The Legion was moving at a crawl, the cart trundled along so slowly that Sergeant Cox was able to keep pace while walking along beside it. As part of the baggage train, the carts were at the rear of the Legion, with an infantry unit marching behind to protect it. Linda sat at the end of the wagon, leaning against the side, her legs dangling over the end. The her husband was close enough that they could chat in privacy, without the other women on the cart hearing much of the conversation.
Her husband the Sergeant. At least William had seen fit to keep his promise. He'd said if she married Private Cox, he would promote Cox to Sergeant. And he had. He was going to flog her and take her child away, but at least he made her husband a Sergeant. She wished William wasn't so good at keeping promises.
Then again, perhaps he wasn't that great at it. He sent her away as soon as he married his bitch of a wife, didn't he? After promising her that she'd be his mistress forever. Well, perhaps not forever, but certainly longer than a couple fucking weeks.
Linda plucked dry mud from her skirt and scowled. It'd been a while since she'd seen William - which was likely a good thing, considering his anger toward her. She glanced up at her husband, unable to help but to compare him to her former lover. Jeffrey's little kindnesses every single day had worn away at her until she found herself becoming infatuated.
Not in love the way she'd been in love with William. Not the blind, raging love and lust. The desperate need for him. Why had she wanted him so badly? What had made William so special, anyway? That a man of his rank would choose her, over all the other doxies? Not a particularly high bar to strive for, especially when he only wanted her to fuck. To be his mistress. Why should she have been so proud to be a gentleman's mistress? Had she thought so little of herself that even she hadn't considered herself worthy to be his wife? She'd been so very flattered back then, though. Enough so that she'd fallen head over heels in love with him.
As the cart moved beneath her, she began to think of all the times William had hurt her, insulted her, injured her, even though he knew she loved him. The times he called her 'Beth' in bed. The time he took Mariah and Sandra to his bed, walking on by her - his mistress - like she didn't exist, even though he knew he was being cruel and knew how much he was hurting her. Looking back now, she was sure he had done it for precisely that purpose - because he was hurting, so he wanted her hurting too. As if hurting her might make himself hurt less. Pushing her away when she did try to speak to him, when she tried to reach him.
And the time he sent her away from him entirely, after promising she would be his mistress. And now. Refusing to speak with her or even see her. Declaring her punishment, that she would be whipped. And, even worse, he was going to take her child away from her. The child she had chosen to bring into this world. Yes, she'd thought about being rid of it - but she had come to love it and now, William was going to remove it from her, he was going to leave her with no choice. Her child. The one she could feel moving in her stomach, the one she'd grown to love even more than she had ever loved William. And it would be removed from her as soon as she gave birth.
"You're crying again," Jeffrey said softly. He climbed up onto the end of the cart to sit beside her. Once settled, he brushed her hair back from her scalp.
"Why do you love me?" She asked wretchedly. "I am an awful person. I've done things… I'm a whore."
"You're not a whore anymore. You're my wife," he came closer, close enough to kiss her brow. They'd had this conversation so many times before, when she was at her lowest, her most wretched. She leaned into him, put her arms around his chest and buried her face in his neck.
"I'm your wife now," she said. "I would have been his mistress, until the end of my days, if he'd had me. But I think… I would have been miserable. I was already miserable," she paused, closing her eyes, gathering her thoughts. She opened her eyes and looked up at him. "With you, I'm not miserable."
"I'm glad to hear it," he gave a half laugh and she smiled.
"I'm far from miserable."
"Might you be happy?" He asked slowly, suggestively.
"I think… I am, with you. Or I would be… But… I don't want to lose my baby. I want it to be the three of us. Why won't he let it be the three of us?" She placed her hand over her stomach. "Whip me if he must punish me. But why can't he let me keep my baby?"
"Because it's his, and a father has the right," Jeffrey said gently. "Linda, I will give you another. And another. Ten, if you wish. I'm so sorry, my love, but this one, you'll have to bid farewell to."
"You could give me fifteen babies and there will always be a hole in my heart if this one is taken from me," she said. "When will he take it?" She asked brokenly. "As soon as it's born? Will I have a chance to look at my baby? To hold him?"
"I don't know," he admitted, troubled. "There is nothing I can do or say that will bring you solace, except that at least you know the child will be raised in comfort. At least you know your baby will want for nothing."
"Except a mother," Linda whispered, her hand on her stomach, her eyes haunted. "He'll never have his mother."
After William sent Captain Wilkins and three score of Dragoons to follow the Martin's boy trail for as far as they were able, he rode his horse back to the baggage train, to find Shadow Dancer. The mare needed to be saddled for the long ride ahead. The letter from Martin was in a pocket inside his jacket, near his chest. He imagined he could feel it burning through his clothes.
Beth was pregnant, but it was not the child William had been longing for. It wasn't even his, no matter what Benjamin tried to tell him. And how could Benjamin possibly be so certain? Beth had had her menses, month after month after month, as reliably as clockwork, only falling pregnant when she left. But OF COURSE the child was William's. Because Beth had thrown a tantrum back at Fresh Water. The day Linda duped her into thinking he was having an affair, Beth had become unhinged. And the reason, according to Benjamin, was because she had already fallen pregnant before she left.
William curled his fingers into fists, clutching the reins with a death grip. As he knew she'd been faithful to him during their marriage, and as she'd become unhinged the very day she left him, Benjamin was trying to make William draw to the conclusion that only he could be the father.
How dare they? What sort of a fool did they think he was? Beth and her father both. They knew - they must have known - that with her pregnancy, everything would change.
When Benjamin failed to extricate Beth from Tarleton camp and his bed, Tavington had decided to see the job done himself. With Harmony's nagging at him and with Cilla's adding her pennies worth, he'd finally decided that, instead of sending Beth to her aunt's as he'd planned for Benjamin to do, he would instead take her back and uphold the facade of a respectable marriage. He'd informed Benjamin as much in a letter he sent to Benjamin while he was still in prison at Winnsboro. Benjamin was aware of Tavington's new intentions, but he must have also known that such a plan did not extend to the raising of Tarleton's bastard. Beth and Benjamin would know that he could never pretend to a respectable marriage while she was carrying another man's bastard, they weren't fools either.
And so they come up with this cock and bull story, because she was returning to him, pregnant with Tarleton's child.
They would lie to him, plot against him, blame her pregnancy for her outburst, for the sole purpose of the timing of that outburst, all to make him think she was already pregnant when she left. Trying to make him believe that the child must be his. That corner of his mind that raged silently as he rode toward the horses vowed that he would never forgive Benjamin for this deception.
He finally arrived - he could see Beth's carriage in the distance but he ignored it for now. Shadow Dancer would soon be saddled, he would go and get Beth then. He dismounted, greeted the horse as warmly as she did him, as she nudged her muzzle into him, stamped her legs, and made happy, welcoming sounds. William scratched her cheeks and shoulders, his fingers digging deep to the skin beneath her crest. He could almost feel her smiling. Hearing another horse whinny, he glanced up and to his astonishment, he saw Thunder bearing down toward him, lifting his legs high, a playful gallop, as if he were dancing.
"Thunder!" William bellowed, releasing Shadow Dancer and rushing to meet his horse, his beautiful boy. Thunder reared before him, hooves pawing the air, then dropped down to paw the ground. He galloped about William in a circle, then almost pushed him over with the force of his nudge. The ground was muddy, William did not relish landing in the muck, so he seized Thunder's bridle and tried to calm him. His own heart was racing and for the first time in months, he grinned from ear to ear. "Ah, at least they did something right!" He crowed as he rubbed Thunder's neck and slapped his shoulder. "Was it Gabriel? Or Thomas? Aye, boy? Who sent you back, hmm? Did they look after you? If they didn't… Gods, what does Thomas know of looking after a beast like you? Let me see you - here, lift your hoof…" With that, he started an inspection, he went over every inch of Thunder's body, from his hooves to his mane to his teeth. William had a groom bring him a brush and he went over every inch of Thunder's fur, looking for sores and the like. Nothing. The horse was in exceptional health. "Well, perhaps he knows more than I thought," William grinned, as excited as Thunder.
He had both horses saddled, he lifted himself up into Thunder's, and took hold of Shadow Dancer's bridle to lead her back to the carriage. His mood darkened sharply.
It was time.
William returned far sooner than Beth expected. Having no desire to be alone, she'd just been thinking that perhaps she should go and find Harmony, or join Cilla in her carriage; God knew, Cilla had need of company. Beth should be with her, offering comfort and support while Cilla grieved for her mother. She was just about to do so, when Tavington returned. He was mounted astride Thunder, he was holding Shadow Dancer's guide ropes, and he had a two score of Dragoons at his back.
Her gaze alternated between him and Shadow Dancer and what was clearly a Dragoon escort for travel, with growing horror. What she'd suspected he would do was coming to pass, he was taking her to the Ferguson's. It was Brownlow who dismounted and opened the door for her. She stared at him, eyes wide, as he held out his hand to her. Her mind worked, but she was unable to understand the gesture. Finally, it snapped into place. He was going to help her down. She hadn't seen him since her return, the last time she'd spoken to him, it'd been to scream at him for helping to hide Linda and William's affair.
Only, he hadn't.
She had no words, had no idea what to say. Now he was here, to help her out of the carriage, so that she could be taken to the Ferguson's and dumped there. Her hand trembled violently as she placed it in his, her knees felt weak before she even stood. Her free hand clutched her cape around her shoulders, in a vain attempt to hide her pregnancy. Too late. William knew, and he was sending her away because of it. Or perhaps he was simply sending her away because her father had presented that as an option. It's not as though he'd invited her to come here. He hadn't even known she was on her way. Lord, he hadn't wasted any time in the deciding, had he? Tears burned her eyes, she forced herself to climb outside.
Brownlow's face was sympathetic, he gave her his arm and let her cling to it as they cross the short, muddy distance toward Shadow Dancer. He held the horse's bridle, angled the stirrup for Beth to use. "I'm sorry," she said to him and he cocked his head. "For yelling at you. And for Dalton."
He nodded. "Thank you, for both," he said gravely.
"Dalton was a good man, I thought highly of him. He didn't deserve that death. Or any death. But especially not that one."
"I couldn't agree more. He thought highly of you, too," Brownlow said and Beth felt like it was an afterthought.
"He couldn't possibly have," she whispered, then gripping the bridle, she mounted. She didn't want to look at Brownlow now, she just stared straight ahead. But he wasn't moving away from her stirrup and the silence was stretching, becoming uncomfortable. She finally glanced down at him.
"You're wrong, Mrs. Tavington," he said solemnly. "The two of us, we talked quite often about what a couple of cads our superiors were." He kept his voice low, there was no way possible for his Commander to hear him. "For the longest time, it was Tavington and Bordon that we thought lowly of. You were always kind, considerate, thoughtful, honest." She almost choked, hearing that; there had been times when she'd been very far from honest. Brownlow continued, "you were good from the start, until you fell in with them. When you push, and push, and push, well, people snap eventually, even the best sort."
She stared down at him in astonishment. He blamed William, not her. She felt her tears slide down her cheek and she wiped them with the back of her hand. "It takes two. Well, in my downfall, it took three… But I am not guilt free. I thank you, though. What you just said - it means more than I can ever express."
He nodded, then smiled up at her, patted Shadow Dancer's neck, then walked away to mount his own horse. As the column began to move out, Beth trotted closer to Tavington. "Will you at least let me farewell my cousin? Her mother just died! And Harmony, I've barely seen either of them. Can't I at least say good-bye?"
William frowned at her. "Whatever for? We'll be back soon enough."
Beth grew still, pulling Shadow Dancer back away. William continued on ahead, the Dragoons began to trot past her, and then Brownlow was at her side.
"Are you alright?"
"Yes, I just… I thought… where are we going?" She asked him.
"Ramsour's Mill, Cornwallis' temporary headquarters," he replied. "Colonel Tavington said you've got information for the Generals?"
"Oh," she breathed out slowly, realisation dawning. William wasn't galloping her off to the Ferguson's. He might yet, of course, but that was not now. Now, she was to face Cornwallis, O'Hara, and whomever else wished to question her about her father. Beth shivered, and it had little to do with the cold.
"How is Miss Martin?" Brownlow asked as he got Beth moving. "Have you any word of her?"
"Oh, yes, my brothers saw her recently. She is with my Aunt still, they say - my brothers, that is, that Maggie is becoming quite a proper young lady."
"Indeed?" Brownlow smiled. "Tell me."
Colonel Tavington has sent word up the line to Lord Cornwallis and General O'Hara, informing both that he was on his way and requesting an urgent meeting. He had glanced back down the column of Dragoons once and only once, to ensure that Beth was riding with them. He did not turn back to her again; if there were any concerns or if any problems arose, Brownlow would inform him, he was riding at Beth's side. He did what he could to distract himself from his irritation, but found only other irritations and nuisances and frustrations ready to take place of Beth, her father and the damned letter that told him he was the father. As soon as he pushed that out of his mind, in came roaring his resentment at being made Cornwallis' rear guard. He was suffering for his Lordships displeasure, forced to eat Cornwallis' dust.
Or in this case, with the weather being what it was, forced to walk through Cornwallis' churned up mud.
He should be at the front, not the damned back. Tarleton, who was in no higher favour right now than William was - still, Tarleton got the front. In between, were Colonel Simcoe and the weight of the British army, Battalions under Cornwallis' Command. They had all gone first, and now William had to pick his way through mud that came up to Thunder's knees.
He was in quite a remarkably muddy state, by the time he reached Ramsour's mill. William cleaned himself as best he could, splashing water from a trough all over his boots, then stamping to flick the water off. Tents surrounded a small Plantation House near the mill, Tavington was escorted into the house and into his Commander's presence.
Without preamble, he began to explain, to both O'Hara and Cornwallis, that Beth had returned and had bought information with her. Her father's escape from Winnsboro, of the traitor Ensign Watson's survival and defection, Farshaw and his forgeries of the seal and cipher, and his ability to mimic O'Hara's hand. The General's face turned white and William knew he, O'Hara, would be circulating a new cipher forthwith. And he would adopt a knew signet for his seal, too, no doubt.
"Where has she been? Your wife," Cornwallis snapped, finding it difficult to come to grips with what William was telling him.
"I…" William frowned - he hadn't discovered from Beth, where she'd been. He only knew how she'd reached him, because of Benjamin's letter. He had no idea where she'd gone when she fled Tarleton, who she'd fallen in with along the way, how she'd managed to become reunited with her father. He hadn't asked. From the moment the blanket slipped and revealed her pregnant stomach, he hadn't even been able to look at her. But she had found her father somehow, William knew that much. "With her father," he replied reluctantly.
Red began to creep up Cornwallis's neck and across his face, his lips thinned and his eyes narrowed. He leaned forward, filled with wrath. "Her father escaped Winnsboro and was waiting for her outside Tarleton's camp."
"My Lord -"
"Silence," Cornwallis spat. O'Hara and Tavington shared a worried look. "This confirms it. All my suspicions of her. She wrought trouble with Tarleton in his camp and her father was there, waiting for her when it was time for her to leave!"
"Sir, I do not -"
"Bring her in here!" Cornwallis shouted, furious. "I will question her alone!"
Tavington sat stiffly, barely able to move. He slowly, as if his body wasn't listening to his commands, began to rise. A jerky movement, none of his usual grace. O'Hara rose with him and they began to make their way toward the door.
"His mind is already set," William whispered. "He is going to hang my wife."
"No, William. He will see reason," O'Hara said calmly.
It was meant to be soothing. Reassuring. William took no solace from it.
Having just come in from the freezing cold, the chamber was boiling. A fire blazed in the fireplace, making it too warm for her cape, but Beth kept it wrapped around her shoulders and pregnant stomach as she sat to face Lord Cornwallis, to hide that she was with child. It had been some months since she'd seen the Lord General. He was looking tired now. Older in a way that had nothing to do with the passage of time. The war was letting its effect be known.
"Alone, I said," Cornwallis said crisply to Tavington, who hadn't taken a seat, but wasn't leaving either.
"My Lord, if I could just show you this," William pulled a book from his pocket. Beth glanced at it and the blood drained from her face.
"My diary!" She breathed, her eyes rushing up to meet William's. "You would show him my diary!" It could be used as evidence, that damned book. She'd written entries about the ambush against Burwell, of her conflicting emotions at sending Harry Burwell warning of the trap. He'd promised never to reveal her betrayal to anyone, especially not his Superiors. Was this how he would get rid of her then? He didn't need to send her to the Ferguson's - perhaps that was too far to travel. Too bothersome. This way was far more immediate and he only had to travel the intervening miles between himself and Cornwallis. She would be tried for treason now, and because of the diary, she would be found guilty. She would be hanged, or put in prison, or… She knew he'd never forgive her for leaving him for Tarleton but dear God, she never imagined William would do something like this to her!
"There are entries, my Lord, that prove my wife did not marry me at her father's behest, to gain information or cause trouble, as you have accused. Some were written well before we married, when she returned to her father's home."
"You read it," she breathed. "Gods, you read my entire diary?" William shot her a dark glance and she stared back, appalled and confused. No. Violated. He'd dug deep down into her soul and learned all her darkest secrets and desires, without her ever knowing he'd been there. No, not confused. This was a violation.
"You see here?" William had the diary open and was pressing the two exposed pages under Cornwallis' nose. "Here, she writes of becoming engaged to Colonel Burwell and her despair that she is not engaged to me. So you see? Her father had nothing to do with it. My Lord?" He asked, when Cornwallis said nothing. The General wasn't even looking down at the diary, he was staring up at Tavington, his face livid.
"I will speak. To Mrs. Tavington. Without you present. You will leave." He bit out, drawing a ragged breath between every third word.
Taken aback, William snapped the diary closed. Another moment he lingered, before turning on his heel and marching for the door.
Beth recalled the time when, what felt like years ago but could only be a few months, she had sat on her bed with William and shown him her diary. She'd shown him the portrait she'd drawn, so she would not forget his face. She'd read aloud to him, a few excerpts, that held the most meaning to her, that expressed the most sorrow at their parting. She'd read them to him. That had been her choice. But now, William had taken it upon herself to read the diary from end to end, and it left her feeling naked, bared to the storm. Her cheeks flooded crimson, as she recalled giving information to Nathan after marrying William. She couldn't remember if she'd written of that in her diary, or what level of detail she'd gone into, if she had. And there was so much else, of her heartbreak at losing William, the silly beginnings of her growing love, the excitement she'd felt each time he sent her a letter or came to visit her in the city. She'd poured her soul into those pages, and William had read it, from the first page to the last.
"Do you understand why you have been bought before me, Mrs. Tavington?" Cornwallis asked. His crisp voice jerked her back to attention.
"For the reason my husband just gave," she said and she saw his eyes widen until she could see the white all around the blue of them. It was an insolent reply. Then again, it was a stupid accusation.
"Where have you been?" His Lordship snapped.
"Do you mean when I left Tarleton, after he stole my money, lied to me, and nearly killed my horse?" Gods, get control of yourself, what is wrong with you? William read my diary. From cover to cover, he read it. That is what is wrong with me. Dear God above. "Is that when you mean?"
"Yes," Cornwallis bit out. "Then."
Beth told him. She left Tarleton's camp in the dead of night. Following day, encountered rebels. Burwell's men. When she told them she was Martin's daughter, they escorted her there. To Burwell. Cornwallis was growing more outraged with every word, she could see it in his face, the set of his shoulders, the way he slowly drew back from her, bringing himself to full height in his seat. He looked as though his head might pop. She continued anyway. She was in Burwell's company for a week. Was reunited with her father when he arrived after escaping Winnsboro. Was told she would be returned to her husband, who may or may not want her back. And now, she was here. At the end of her recitation, she shrugged. Cornwallis was staring at her like she was a new and strange insect he'd never seen before.
"You never had any doubts about me, when we were in the city," she pointed out, still unable to modify her tone or be anything less than insolent. Perhaps it was the pregnancy. Perhaps it was her earlier fear that William was riding her to the Ferguson's to be shed of her. Perhaps it was disgust at herself, for feeling that fear. That desperate need to not be discarded by him, the awful desire to be with him. Perhaps it was all of those things combined.
Or perhaps it was because she was bloody hungry.
She hadn't eaten for hours and she was damned well starving. Her eyes flicked toward a far table, upon which was heaped platters and tureens of corn cakes and casseroles and soups and… Her mouth began to salivate, she swallowed and pulled her gaze away.
"You quite liked me then, if I recall," she continued. "It was not until my cousin was revealed to have been spying on Brownlow and Dalton, that you decided we were all of the same ilk. Because of course, if my uncle is, and my aunt is, and my cousin is. And if my brother is a soldier for the rebels and my father - well, he joined later, but still. If they are all rebels and active ones at that, then I must be as well. I suppose it makes sense, when you come down to it. It stands to reason you'd suspect me. Everything you knew about me was thrown into question. But I shall tell you, here and now, while looking you straight in the eye, that you are wrong."
Cornwallis continued to stare at her, his lips pressed tight, his fingers curled around the arms of his chair.
"Fool girl that I was, I loved William. Almost from the first moment I laid eyes on him. Gods, he has this way about him. How he could charm a complete stranger and make her love him within moments…" She shook her head, realising only when it was too late that she had begun to cry. She wiped at her cheeks with the back of her hand, angry with herself. "This is what it comes down to, Sir. If I am guilty of what you've accused, you are going to have to hang, or flog and or imprison, the wife of one of your high ranking Officers. Do you truly believe my guilt strongly enough for that?"
He lifted his chin, his eyes had been fixed on hers, weighing, judging. He'd barely blinked since she began.
"I shall admit that in the city, I did repeat things William and Colonel Tarleton told me back to my uncle," she continued. "But I didn't know he was some grand spy master. He said he was worried about us living in the city and anything I repeated to him would help him to feel safe. Or to at least know if the hammer was about to fall on him. And so I did. I told him what I was told. I didn't know I was betraying the Crown or William or…" She shook her head. "I understand how it looks to you, with my father being who he is and now that there is a rift between my husband and Colonel Tarleton with me at the heart of it. But the truth is, those two were already drifting apart. I think even before they met me, they were. There was resentment between them and a competitive streak that was growing too strong for their friendship. And they were vying for me from the start. Oh, I don't mean to give myself airs, I know I was just a pawn in their silly game, the stakes being fifty pounds given to the victor who bedded me. Do you know of the wager they made?"
Cornwallis drew a shuddering breath, his face blotched red. "Yes." He said and she heard the full weight of his disappointment behind that one word.
"They embarked on quite a ruthless campaign, neither caring how it would effect me, all their courting and me being so innocent and stupid back then, I got thoroughly caught up in the romance of it. With William, anyway. Not that he cared. He was ready to seduce me and discard me. They both were. However, somewhere along the line, they fell in love with me. What goes around comes around, I suppose. Some divinity must have been looking down at them with disapproval of yet another attempt to vie for the affections of a woman for the sole purpose of one of them being a victor and fifty pounds wealthier," she paused, cocked her head, the added, "that's my way of telling you that I wasn't the first."
"I see. I hadn't known," Cornwallis replied gravely.
"Well, you do now. And that divinity perhaps thought 'oh well, I shall teach you both a lesson then.' Perhaps it was Cupid? For the punishment for their actions was that they both fell in love with me. But I was punished too, so perhaps it wasn't Cupid, perhaps it was the devil, drawn to William and Banastre's mischief, like the moth to the flame, and deciding to up the ante. For me, I fell in love with William the first day I met him," her eyes welling, she stared past Cornwallis at a fixed point beyond his head. "He would have won," she whispered. "I would have given myself to him. I would have bedded him. But he wasn't going to marry me, and I hadn't lost myself so much that I would let him seduce me, knowing that he wasn't going to marry me. No, William - even after realising he loved me - had no intention of marrying me; he wanted me as his mistress only. Because he had some other silly fool back in England with a fortune that he was engaged too. That only changed when he realised I came with a fortune too. Can't you see what I'm saying? You say that my father and I somehow made William marry me so I could spy on him? Gods, I loved William, and he loved me. And even then, I could not secure him, not until he realised that I came with a fortune of my own. Only then did his mind turn. It's not as though I crooked my finger and he came running to the alter and I stood there laughing because my father and I go what we wanted," she paused only to draw breath. "I had nothing to entice William to matrimony until he discovered my wealth. And as for my father - he was all the way at Fresh Water, fending off Burwell's constant attempts to get him to join the Continentals. He wasn't even in the army, when I - no, wait," she paused, thinking over her recent past. Somewhere along the line, she'd lost her insolent tone and was speaking in a more conversational voice. "Yes, he was, he had just joined the army, when I married William. The day before, if memory serves. And no, before you accuse him, he is not like my uncle. He was not spying. He did not try to encourage me to keep company with William in order to spy on them. He tore strips off my uncle, for doing precisely that -"
"Mr. Putman pushed you into Colonel Tavington's company to spy on him?" Cornwallis asked, to get clarification, he was finding it a little difficult keeping track - this was more a bombardment than a conversation.
"Yes, but as I explained before, I did not know he was a spy at the time, nor did I realise that the information I was repeating was being used by spies and passed along to Burwell, I will swear to that on my own life. But yes, Uncle Mark let all of it happen, William and Banastre's courting of me. Even Ensign Watson. My uncle threw me in with them as often as he could, not realising that I was falling in love with William. When my father found out… Well, he was livid that my uncle used me so. As for my father, he was all the way to Fresh Water and hadn't even met William. How could he have anticipated that William would, at some point, decide he wanted to marry me? And if that was his design - to have his daughter marry a British Officer in order to gain intelligence and cause rifts between Commandants, why would he refuse Banastre, when Banastre asked his blessing for precisely that? If my father wanted to use me in some plot to drive a wedge between the Colonel's?"
"Colonel Tarleton asked your father for your hand?" Cornwallis asked, looking surprised.
"Yes. And he was refused. Why would he refuse Banastre and wait for William, who he could not be certain of? If there was a plot, he would have seized on the opportunity and left nothing to chance. It would have worked just as well with Banastre as with William," she saw that Cornwallis had become thoughtful. She said earnestly, "but my father would never use me like that," she spread her hands wide. "To actually put me into the bed of someone he despised, and even worse - to marry me off to one of them? I am his daughter, Sir,"she said firmly. "Father wanted me to marry General Burwell. Absolutely, unequivocally, that was his intention. When that did not come to pass, he engaged me to Mr. George Howard who was absolutely, unequivocally, a Patriot -"
"Was?"
"Was," Beth confirmed. "He and his father were supplying the rebels. When Colonel Tarleton found out, he sought the Howard's out. He never did find Peter Howard but his son, George, was hanged."
"Tarleton hanged your fiancé?" Cornwallis leaned back in his chair, astonished.
"He didn't know he was my fiancé and he didn't hang him because he was my fiancé. It was just… Coincidence. Happenstance. I don't know. But yes, Tarleton hanged George. First, Burwell abandons me because he heard about William and I in…" she trailed off, gnawed at her cheek, her face warmed with embarrassment. "You know about that, I'm sure? At the Simms ball?"
"I do know," Cornwallis said.
"Burwell ended my engagement, because of that. My father blames me, and rightly so. But he also blames William. And then Tarleton hangs George Howard, removing from me the possibility of redeeming myself in my father's eyes with a Patriot boy of my father's choosing. Honestly, my Lord, do you truly imagine my father would want me to marry either of them, after all that?"
"No, I don't suppose he would," Cornwallis said.
"If it's true?" Beth asked, anticipating what Cornwallis left unsaid. "You don't suppose he would, if what I've said is true? Everything I have told you can be easily verified I am sure. Talk to Tarleton, I'm sure he'll tell you about hanging George and my father refusing him my hand. My father refused William also, by not answering the letters Sir Clinton sent, suggesting the match -"
"Hmm," Cornwallis interrupted, musing. He frowned, for he'd quite forgotten this. "I suppose if it was your father's design to marry you to a British soldier for the purpose of spying on us, he would not have ignored that opportunity."
"That's right," Beth gasped, realising it was so. Clinton had written several letters to her father, putting William forward as a suitor for Beth, for marriage. Her father had ignored them, one and all. "Plus, I was already engaged to Burwell, and then to George Howard! Honestly, at what point did my father suddenly decide to marry me to William, instead? To spy on him and wreak havoc…"
Cornwallis was nodding and Beth couldn't help but feel elated. And bloody relieved.
"I nearly lost him the day I married William. My father, that is," she said softly, remembering. "When Major Bordon captured my father and bought him to Fresh Water. He was so angry with me, so disgusted."
"How do things stand between you now?" He asked.
He believes me. Beth collapsed into the chair back, the relief was overwhelming. "I think we've a long road ahead of us, but maybe one day he'll forgive me." She paused, then said, "not for marrying William - I think he accepted that a long time ago. I mean, for…" She lowered her eyes. "For leaving with Tarleton," she whispered. She gave herself a shake, recoiling from that line of conversation. "Back at Fresh Water though, when he just found out that I'd married William, initially he was going to disown me. I think he was, anyway. I waited for the hammer to fall, for him to tell me that he was through with me." Tears shone in her eyes, making her pupils appear as though they were floating in water. "And he might well have done, until my brothers and sisters spoke for me. And he recalled how much he does love me. And -" He discovered that Aunt Charlotte had fooled about with Bordon… With neither Gabriel or Thomas to take up the reins of the family, there had only been Beth. "Plus he needed me to look after the little ones, for there was no one else," she laughed softly, then sobered. "I regret - most heartily, I do - that William and Banastre are so set against one another now. I played a very large part in that, I will not deny it, I most certainly am not innocent there. But I did nothing on purpose. I had no long reaching design to have two of your Commanders at one another's throat in order to cause chaos in your upper ranks. That was just… an unhappy result of all our folly - theirs included."
Cornwallis drew in a long, shuddering breath. It was difficult to let go his suspicions when he'd been entertaining them for so long. It was even more difficult to admit he was wrong. But even he could not deny it, the girl spoke sense. O'Hara had said as much, even Tavington had. But Cornwallis had been all too ready to believe the entire family were traitors, from the moment Major Bordon revealed Miss Putman's guilt. And they were, even Mrs. Tavington's father - Cornwallis was not wrong, was he? He did have to concede, however, that Mrs. Tavington was far less guilty than he'd assumed her to be.
"Very well, I shall admit that what you have told me rings with greater truth than my suspicions," he said, inclining his head. His voice was smoother now, no longer crisp and angry. "Can you please tell me what happened, then? Why did you leave your husband for Tarleton?"
Beth lowered her eyes to her hands. "It's highly personal, my Lord."
"Two of my pivotal Commandants are at odds, because of you. You have convinced me that this was not an intentional design on your part or your father's. But they are at odds, Mrs. Tavington, and I wish to know why. I can not help them to repair the damage, until I know the full extent of it, and the reasons behind it. I need you to tell me - why did you marry one, only to take up with the other? If I have any hope of reconciling them, I need to know what happened."
"I doubt there is any hope of that," Beth shook her head.
"You will tell me, Mrs. Tavington," his voice was iron again.
Beth dropped her head back on her neck and stared up at the ceiling, trying to draw strength from… something. Anything. Gods, to go over it all again… She heaved a breath, straightened her spine, gave herself a shake, and began. "Back in the city, William had a mistress. Linda Stokes, was her name. When we married, I learned that he had bought her along with him, to continue their affair. The discovery was, cataclysmic for us. I demanded that…" And on she went, explaining all of it to this gentleman, a nobleman of high standing, a Lord - and as such, only one step down from Royalty. The story of his inferiors behaving inferior unfolded, from Beth learning that Linda was still in camp, Linda's pregnancy and her awful trick, Beth's fury. William strapping Beth, though she kept back the reason why. Gods, what she was revealing was damning enough, without informing this Lordling that she had lost her virginity to Banastre before marrying William. Perhaps William would tell him… But Beth would not. She continued, told him of leaving Fresh Water and the months of travelling with Banastre, her lover. He asked why she left Banastre, and although Beth had already told him, she did so again. Without the insolence. William had never been unfaithful, Banastre had known this almost from the start, and had not told her. Banastre's taking Shadow Dancer and leaving her for dead at the battle. The money - her fortnightly stipend - that she never received. "One hundred and eighty pounds, he stole from me," she said finally as she stared at her hands. In truth, this was the smallest of Banastre's offences. "What goes around comes around, I suppose. Even to me."
Lord Cornwallis spoke of this for some time, pulling answers out of Beth until she felt as wrung as a dish rag. And then he squeezed her for more. Her time with Burwell, every single thing she could tell him, everything that was said. Of Burwell's situation. How many men - soldiers and militia. Their morale. Their strength in arms and ammunition. Their intentions. Her father's. She was made to tell him ever detail she knew, of his escape from Winnsboro. She told of his fallout with Burwell, the reason behind it and when asked, told of his current position in the army. A Colonel still, but outside of Burwell's command. He was leading only militia now, a nearly one thousand strong group that would soon be heading back down into South Carolina.
"In truth," she said now, "I don't know how much I can believe of that. My father told me I was to tell William everything I knew - after being unfaithful to my husband with another man, I was to be utterly faithful to William in my allegiance. To not hold back out of some misguided attempt to protect him and my brothers, for they have made their choice and I made mine by marrying William. They would look after themselves, he said. He told me to tell William everything. And I have - well, that is, I've told it all to you and I suppose I will tell William, when he decides he can stand to be near me for long enough to hear it all," she sighed. "Anyway, I worry now that my father has misdirected me. I tell you that he's dropping down into South Carolina, because he instructed me to be honest with my husband, and that is what he told me."
"But it could be misdirection, as you said," Cornwallis agreed. "He might be staying on, a one thousand strong militia force waiting in the wings, that I'm supposed to believe is heading miles away from here."
"Just… keep your guard up, is all I'm saying," she shrugged. "And have O'Hara change his cipher. I know he will do that and not because I said so, but my father telling me that both have been destroyed might be misdirection too. They might hope that if I tell O'Hara that, then O'Hara will continue to use the same cipher, thinking the forgery destroyed. That way, they can continue to use the forgery."
"Indeed," Cornwallis nodded. "Tell me what you can about Farshaw. His spying. And Major Fallows."
"Oh, God, I don't want to talk about Farshaw and Major Fallows," Beth groaned. "I'm already going hoarse from all this talking, please don't make me talk about them."
Cornwallis gestured and one of his silent aides hovering against a fall wall came forward with a bottle. He poured wine for His Lordship and for Beth, then receded to his previous position of silent sentry out of hearing distance.
"Do you know if they were… committing…?" Cornwallis' lips twisted.
"You're going to insist, I take it? Gods. Yes, they were committing sodomy," she said and she wondered if her face was as pale as Cornwallis'. What I know is second and even third hand, and much of it was pieced together by my father, then told to me by my brothers. I know that they were definitely… having relations," her voice dropped to a whisper. "Because Farshaw told my uncle Mark that he was repeatedly raped by Fallows."
"Raped!" Cornwallis repeated, astounded. He shifted with discomfort at speaking of such things with a woman - not just of sodomy, but of rape. "He accused Fallows of…"
"Forcing him," Beth finished. "But my father doesn't believe it."
"Why not?"
"I don't rightly know," Beth admitted, cocking her head to one side. "It's the conclusion he drew to, I guess."
"What did Farshaw tell him about fleeing the Ferguson Plantation after killing Fallows, when he first joined with them? With the rebels?"
"Again, it's second and third hand. From my younger brothers - chiefly Thomas, who was in my father's company when some of the conversations were taking place. According to Thomas and Nathan, Farshaw had been spying for some time. As Fallows' clerk, he was in the perfect position to do so. He copied all of the messages and letters that crossed Fallows' desk and he repeated all overheard conversations to his fellow spies in the British Legion -"
"And they are?" Cornwallis leaned forward, pinning her with his gaze.
"They're names weren't told to me," Beth replied. "I'm not even sure Thomas knows who the two spies are, to be honest. They try to be very careful with that sort of information. Doubly so with me, considering I revealed to William the ones I did know of, and they ended up being hanged." Her gut twisted with guilt as it always did when she thought of Trellim, Banksia and the others.
"Very well. Continue," he waved his hand.
"Farshaw forged O'Hara's seal and cipher, and Fallows' seal as well. He practiced their hand, in order to write letters that would have O'Hara and Fallows' themselves believing they wrote them. Later, when my uncle arrived, he made contact with the spies at Fresh Water in order to reestablish his network of eyes and ears -"
"Mrs. Bordon," Cornwallis ground out, a red flush flooding across his face.
Beth drew in a sharp gasp, her eyes bulged. "No, no, no, no." The words tumbling out faster than a man can clap. "Not Cilla, she wasn't involved -"
"How can you possibly know she wasn't? You've been gone for months!" Cornwallis snapped. "And as you said, they're careful with that sort of information, especially around you! Frankly, you have no idea if she did or did not, but as it was her father who recruited her to begin with, and as it was her father who took command of the spies at Fresh Water upon his return, I have no doubt at all that she became involved!"
The colour drained from her face, she was a hair away from falling to her knees and begging. She hadn't extracted herself out of this situation only to dump Cilla into it!
"You thought the same of me," she breathed. "And you were wrong. You admitted you were wrong. You're wrong again now, my Lord -"
"Gods, you can think on your feet, I'll give you that," Cornwallis said, voice lashing like a whip. Beth leaned back from him, dread in her stomach. "I will speak with Mrs. Bordon alone, I will question her as to her in person, as to her guilt or innocence," he spat the word, showing it pure contempt. "Continue."
"Continue with what?" Beth rasped out, unsure where he wanted her to pick up. The wine soured in her stomach, she felt like vomiting. "I don't -"
"Farshaw. I will not discuss Mrs. Bordon with you. Continue with Farshaw. He practices O'Hara and Fallows hand in order to forge it. He had copies of the seal and cipher. He was reporting to your uncle. Then? What happened the day he murdered Fallows, did they discuss it with you?"
It took a few moments before Beth could resume speaking, and a few more before she could speak with strength.
"Yes," she said softly, her troubled mind barely able to focus beyond Cilla. "The day Farshaw killed Fallows. Right. Yes. My brother Thomas told me that when Farshaw showed up, he told my father and my uncle that he had been discovered to be a spy."
"Did he tell them he committed murder?"
"Yes. Thomas said Farshaw admitted to killing Fallows, he told my father and uncle that he was working on O'Hara's seal when Fallows' knocked on his door. He was unable to pretend that he wasn't in the room, for he'd been coughing before the knock came. Farshaw claimed that he shoved his work into a drawer but then couldn't find the key to lock it. He decided that the risk of Fallows going into the drawer was small. Fallows was waiting and Farshaw could stall no longer. He opened the door. They spoke. Fallows said something about wanting tobacco and did Farshaw have any? Next thing, he - Fallows - was opening the very drawer Farshaw had hidden the evidence of his spying. Fallows was going to have him arrested, so Farshaw picked up the knife that was on the desk and stabbed Fallows repeatedly in the neck. Then he sat down and wrote a pass - he'd been practicing Fallows' hand?" Cornwallis nodded. "He forged the pass in Fallows' writing, used Fallows' seal, packed his belongings and walked out."
"That's how he got the pass!" Cornwallis gasped, understanding how Farshaw had managed to escape now. At least one question had been answered in all this. Beth continued, telling Cornwallis of Calvin searching for and finding her father and uncle. Of her father's decision to use Calvin as bait in order to capture William, who had been sent out to search for Farshaw. Of William calling Calvin a sodomite, and of William telling Benjamin the truth of how Fallows' body had been found.
"That they were having relations was certain," Beth said, her face blazing crimson again. "My brother said that William told our father that Calvin had thrown in with Fallows for protection, because he knew that too many of William's men - including William, Bordon and Captain Wilkins - bore him nothing but ill will."
"Ahh, yes, Farshaw's affair with Mrs. Wilkins," Cornwallis paused, then wondered if perhaps Farshaw had spoken truthfully with this claim that Fallows had forced himself upon him? Then again… according to O'Hara, Fallows had been the receiver in this instance, not the giver. And the oils had been in Farshaw's drawers. That sounded more like an equal participant, than one being hunted. "Perhaps Farshaw mingled a little truth into this story he told to Mr. Martin and Mr. Putman?" Such as, Fallows opening the drawer and finding evidence of Farshaw's spying. But instead of it being tobacco, perhaps it was the oils that he was looking for. Cornwallis shuddered, considering the implications. "To ward off the Green Dragoons from having their retribution, he turned to Fallows for protection. And Fallows' price, was…"
"Can we please stop speaking about this?" Beth whispered. "I don't think there's anything more to be told, I truly don't."
"We know that Fallows was… what he was," Cornwallis said. "For we've questioned those he has put forward for promotion. There have been many, but only two remained within O'Hara's battalion. They are no longer with His Majesties army," he curled his lip with distaste, "but before they were asked to retire, they made it clear to us that Fallows was… well, what he was, and that they were of the same… persuasion. That he did not force any of them. He used his position to help them to climb, but he did not abuse his authority to make them comply, he did not force himself on them."
"Then I doubt he did with Farshaw either," Beth said, voice strangled. She did not want to be speaking about this! "Farshaw was very good at mingling truth with a whole lot of lies. I'd say what you proposed is far more likely than what he convinced my uncle happened. Now, please, Sir…"
"Very well," he raised one hand, he would continue no more. "It is as distasteful for me, as it is for you. Do you know where Farshaw is now?"
"With my uncle. When Uncle Mark killed Ensign Dalton and his unit of Dragoons, he was in mutiny. My brother Gabriel tried to stop it from happening but my uncle roused some of the militia to his side. When the Dragoons were killed, they split away from the rest of the unit. Thomas was sent to search for him in order to get the seal and cipher back, in order to free my father," she buried her face in her glass, embarrassed to be speaking of this before the General, whose face had flared with fury again. She rushed on. "Thomas discovered that they were staying at Mr. Singleton's Plantation, though I do not know where that is. If you do go in search of it, please don't harm my brother and sisters. They're innocents."
"I am not in the habit of harming children, Mrs. Tavington," Lord Cornwallis said stiffly.
"What of women?" She asked softly and he lifted his chin, eyes narrowing.
"I told you, Mrs. Bordon will be questioned. Beyond that, I shall discuss it with you no further."
Beth chewed the inside of her cheek, wondering if she should push him. It could cause more harm than good, and could land her in trouble again, when she'd only just dragged herself out of it. Still, she was in the chamber with him, right at that very moment, when would she get another chance to speak for her cousin?
"Mrs. Bordon is grieving her mother, who recently died in childbed," she said all in a rush, fearing he would stop her and prevent her from speaking further. "Please. Mrs. Bordon only found out today. She is going through so much -"
"You have said your piece, Mrs. Tavington. I will discuss it with her, as I have discussed my concerns over your allegiance, with you," he said, voice lashing like a whip. He stared at her so long that she feared he was still suspicious of her. She began to squirm. "The information you gave me regarding your circumstances has given me a perspective that I did not have before. I am no longer of the position that you committed treason. It was a series of circumstances, not design, which led to this wedge between Tarleton and Tavington. They are as much to blame as you. With your explanation, I can see the holes in my reasoning and I do agree with you that it was my distrust of your family that made me so ready to believe it of you, as well."
"As the saying goes, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree," she said softly. Her family were in rebellion and even Beth had committed treason, several times over. "I will admit to being conflicted, quite a few times," she said, and that was as close as she would come to admitting she'd actually passed information deliberately. "My father knows this, and he knew you had become suspicious of me, which is why he instructed me to be utterly honest with my…" she trailed off.
"Your husband?" Cornwallis arched an eyebrow, as if asking 'is that really such a hard thing to do?'.
Beth lowered her eyes.
"Speaking of which," Cornwallis began. "While I concede that you are not guilty of espionage, you are hardly innocent. Now that you have returned, I must insist that you behave according to your station. That you uphold a moral standing higher than what you have shown thus far. I will suffer no more foolishness from you, what you have done thus far has already had a devastating effect on my men. I need for Colonel Tavington and Colonel Tarleton to have their wits about them, and you have been nothing but a distraction. I want them able to work together again, as they have done so well in the past. The effect you have had on them is devastating, I barely know them now, they are entirely changed since they met you, and not for the better."
"Funny, my father observed the same about the changes in me, since the day I met them," she said bitterly. "My father barely knows me of late, as well. The difference between he and you is, he blames them more than he blames me. I was an innocent. Maybe I am not that now, but back then, I was. They were the older. They were the wiser. They are the so-called gentlemen," she emphasised with scorn. "The way I see it, we each played a quite equal part in our downfall. While I'm deserving of your lecture, I'm not the only one who has earned it."
"Yes," Cornwallis agreed. "They certainly have and they have already received the admonishment from me that you have done."
"Oh," Beth slumped, she hadn't realised that. She'd thought Cornwallis was trying to blame her for everything that had gone wrong between his two Colonel's when in truth, he was just giving her her portion of the reprimand.
"I will be discussing it with them both again, however, now that I know the full extent of it. Tavington has done much to earn my ire of late, but learning of his pursuit of you, his determination to have you without a thought given to marriage…" Cornwallis twisted his lips. "Yes, I believe another conversation shall be had forthwith, with Tarleton also. I will suffer no more of these chases, these competitions, where a young girl's maidenhead is the prize."
"And fifty pounds," Beth added and Cornwallis nodded sharply. "What has he done that earned your ire?"
"The birching of Mrs. Wilkins," Cornwallis said.
"Oh, yes," Beth sighed. "I begged him not to do it, he wouldn't listen…"
"Well, he should have," Cornwallis snapped, voice waspish. "The trouble it has caused me with Mr. Simms! I shall suffer no more of his abuses."
He gestured to his sentry and the fellow came forward. "Inform Colonel Tavington that he may return." The fellow stepped out the door for a moment, then returned with William. The General gestured, William took a seat beside Beth, then Cornwallis began to speak and William's face turned to stone.
He bore it well, William did, his face a stoic mask, Beth could barely see his jaw working. As Cornwallis continued a tirade about William's poor use of women of the Colonial Gentry, from the birching of Emily Wilkins to his corruption of Beth. Cornwallis continued, spluttering outrage over a variety of ill conceived decisions from William, that have led to complaints and disaster. Beth began to disengage herself from Cornwallis' voice, her thoughts lingering instead on Cilla, and the trouble she was now in. But even her desperate worry gave way as she began gazing at the table with its heavy load. The smells were getting to her, she hadn't eaten for hours and hours, and being pregnant, she felt faint and sick when she did not have frequent victuals. Her mouth began to salivate and her stomach began to growl.
"…hungry, Mrs. Tavington?" Cornwallis asked, snapping her attention to him again.
"Pardon, my Lord?" Her eyes flew from the food to his face.
"I asked you if you are hungry?" Cornwallis repeated.
"I…" It would be impolite to answer that yes, she indeed was hungry, for then he would be forced to extend an invitation for her to dine - which would have to be extended to William as well, for he was her husband - and she doubted Cornwallis wanted to entertain either one of them. Her stomach betrayed her, it growled so loudly, it was as though it were screaming yes.
"When was the last time you ate?"
"Oh, ah… we broke camp before dawn," she said. "And we had the last of our food, and then I came to the Legion, and I sent my maid away so that I could tell Mrs. Bordon the bad news about her mother - I told you she died, didn't I? And I only told Mrs. Bordon today?"
"When did you eat, Mrs. Tavington?" He asked, voice crisp. He was not going to be moved to sympathy for Cilla, that much was clear.
"Not since I broke camp with my father, my Lord," she replied. Cornwallis looked outraged. "Well, like I said, I sent my maid away. And then I fell asleep in the carriage. And the next thing I knew, William was bringing me here and…" she shrugged. Cornwallis turned his withering glare on William.
"Did it not occur to you, Sir, to feed your damned wife?" The Lord General shouted. William drew a sharp breath.
"No, it did not," William admitted. "Her father's escape from Winnsboro took precedence over all else."
"It is three o'clock in the afternoon! She hasn't eaten for eight hours, I can hear her stomach rumbling! Go and sit down, the both of you!"
"I don't like to impose," Beth said, though her heart leapt with relief and her stomach growled in gratitude.
"No doubt," Cornwallis began, struggling to gain some control over his voice, "those who were to dine with me, will welcome your presence. Many of them know you and have often asked of you these last months. This," he said, pointing a sharp finger at them both, "will be your first public engagement in months. O'Hara has gone to great lengths to let it be known that there is no discord between you." His look took them both in, when he continued. "This is an excellent opportunity for you both to make sure they believe it!"
Beth reluctantly met William's gaze, his was hard and thunderous, hers was reluctant and disinterested. In the end, she shrugged.
At least there was going to be food.