Reply to guest: Hi! Thanks for the review :-) "Will there be a chance to change his mind and leaving her to the Fergunsons won't mean the end of the marriage but an act of keeping her safe? You can't let her father collect her."
That would be a nice twist, that something goes down with the army and it turns out that Beth's life was saved by William taking her to the Ferguson's, and that their marriage isn't over.
But no :-) I didn't explore Benjamin's letter onscreen, because letters can be hard to write and Benjamin's would have been too 'wordy', and would have broken up the flow of that particular scene. You only know through Tav that the act of taking her to the Ferguson's is the end. This isn't a spoiler - I'm just clarifying details: In the letter, Benjamin told William that the annulment document (which Reverend Oliver has drawn up and left with the Ferguson's off screen) will be waiting there for William to sign, and that Colin and Colin's father will be his witnesses to him legally ending the marriage. Once that is signed, Beth's fortune will revert back to Beth's control, and William will have to pay back any money he's spent from her fortune. I've tweaked the previous chapter to make it a little clearer, and I have some of those details coming out in conversation in this chapter as well.
Basically, once it's signed, William would have to marry Beth again if he changed his mind later, but as Benjamin is sick and tired of them both, he'd take quite a lot of convincing before he'd allow that :-)
Still, anything is possible! :-)
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Chapter 149 - The Deserters:
The feeling that Samuel was doing good, that he was countering every evil act of his father, had been fading for some time. For several months now, Samuel had begun to feel that there was something wrong with Captain Gordon. The British Officer wasn't right - in the head. Perhaps it was the blow he took from the flat edge of Samuel's father's tomahawk. Or perhaps he'd always been that way. Whatever the case, there was something wrong with Captain Gordon. And with the men that had been joining Gordon's unit these last few months.
The way they looked at him sideways, the scowls they threw him when he thought he wasn't looking. The smiles they put on, when they realised he was. With these men, he'd thought he'd found a new family. Was it their increased number that made him feel so uneasy? So many strangers… but even among those who he'd started out with, he was beginning to realise that he did not truly know them.
He'd thought they were doing good - Captain Gordon would inform him he received a missive from Colonel Tavington and away they would go, gathering information and at times - as their numbers began to swell - they would commit to attacks and skirmishes. Captain Gordon always said that Tavington commanded them; but in more recent times, Samuel wondered.
Now was one of those times. Gordon wasn't aware that Samuel had begun to spy on him: when Gordon instructed Samuel to stay back with the horses, he had always done so, he would wait out of ear shot, for the rest of the band to return from whatever it was they'd been off doing. That had changed some days ago, as Samuel's curiosity and suspicions began to grow. Right now, he was crouched in the woods, eyes fixed on the small cabin, his heart pounding as he listened to a woman's screams. Children were crying, their pitched wails slicing into Samuel's soul. He'd begun to suspect what was happening to the women in these houses and cabins the Captain found. His men - sixty of them now, all carousing and laughing around the house, while several of them were closeted inside. It was the same at each house, the only thing that changed was that it was a different group of men who went inside.
As though they were taking turns. The thought made Samuel shudder.
Last time, it was a large Plantation house with lots of women inside. Half the unit went in that time, and the sound of so many women screaming followed Samuel into his nightmares.
He saw Captain Gordon emerge from the house, his clothes were askew and his fingers worked the ties that laced closed his breeches. Seeing him, Samuel fell back through the woods to where he was meant to be standing sentry with the horses. As he got further away from the house, the sound of the woman shrieking and the children crying dwindled and faded until all Samuel could hear was birdsong, the rushing water of a nearby river, and the horses. They always left him out of ear shot of the houses - he was not meant to know what was happening inside them.
Surely Tavington would not command such evil? Samuel's hands shook as he wiped tears from his cheeks. His entire body trembled. He glanced at his horse and wondered if he should mount and ride, to get the hell away from what he knew now were madmen. Men such as this could not be considered family. His father had committed atrocities, but would he do this? Samuel couldn't imagine it. And he couldn't imagine that his brother in law would either.
Samuel had time, the men would be occupied for a bit longer. He set aside the horror of that thought as he made his way toward Captain Gordon's mount. After a quick glance back at the woods to ensure no one was coming, he opened the first saddlebag. It was disorderly inside, Gordon's clothes and other items shoved in any old way. This worked in Samuel's favour, Gordon would not notice that the messy tangle of clothes had been disturbed. He was looking for Gordon's wallet, the one which contained his letters from Tavington, the letters giving the order to… Samuel drew a shuddering breath.
Swallowing back bile, he pulled out the letter case. Another look through the woods toward the direction of the house to be sure - but he knew he was safe enough. When the house began to burn, that was when the men would begin to return. He squatted, set the open case on the ground, and began reading the letters. As his did, he felt his mouth go dry.
There was indeed a letter from Tavington, dated a few months ago, back to when Gordon and the unit had served under Banastre Tarleton for a short while. Samuel remembered seeing a superior officer handing Gordon this very piece of paper, a letter from Tavington. At the time, Samuel had been distraught that William was summoning the unit home, and that Beth would get into William's ear until William declared that Samuel was not a Corporal after all, that he wasn't even in the army. Gordon had reassured him that day. They had been made a covert group, Tavington's eyes and ears in the field. Samuel had asked if Tavington had commanded that he return to Fresh Water.
"No son, you're one of us, your place is with us. You'll help us to dig out any and all information about the rebels, anything we can send back to Tavington, that will give him the edge he needs. You're with us, lad, and he knows it."
But Gordon, Samuel knew now, had been lying.
The letter had been exactly what Samuel had predicted all those months ago. The unit had been recalled to Fresh Water - Gordon had been commanded to return with the men, had been ordered to bring Samuel Martin with him.
It was all lies. They'd never been a covert operation. They'd never been following William's commands and reporting back to him. If anything, they'd ignored his command and had done their own thing. Which could only mean one thing.
Captain Gordon and the unit were deserters.
All of them. The increasing number joining them - they were likely deserters too, from their own units. The other papers in the case confirmed it. There was even a proclamation, declaring Gordon and the unit to be deserters, they were to be hanged as soon as they were found. How Gordon got hold of it - or why he'd kept it - Samuel did not know. He snapped the wallet closed and shoved it into the saddlebag, and wondered what the hell he was to do.
In the days since discovering the truth, Samuel had been too afraid to desert the unit of deserters. He was young, but he was not a fool. If they woke one morning to discover he was gone, they wouldn't just let it lie. These were deserters, desperate and wanted - criminals with a death sentence hanging over their heads. They would not risk that he wouldn't reveal their location to the first rebel or British patrol he found. They would have hunted him down like a dog, and killed him.
Samuel wasn't even sure Captain Gordon would stop them - for he was a deserter too.
"Somewhat wrong, son?" Gordon asked as they rode along the beach. The landscape had been changing lately, from swamp to coast. Water splashed around the horses hooves as they trotted through the low surf toward the small island. Gullah, it was called. Something about it niggled in his memory but he couldn't quite catch it - he was certain he'd heard the name before. As far as the eye could see, there were crude batches mostly made of driftwood. There was a sea of people - all of them negro - working and living there. Escaped slaves? Yes, that was likely.
"No, nothing is wrong, Captain," Samuel said, trying not to show how uncomfortable he was around Gordon now. Was he going to hurt these people here on Gullah, too? There were many women and he doubted the men would be able to defend them - there were only a few carrying fowling pieces, they would be no match for Gordon's sixty armed deserters.
"You've been quiet these last few days," Gordon observed.
"Just missing home, I guess," Samuel replied. It was true, too. He missed Fresh Water. And he missed his family. His real family. His brothers and sisters. His Aunties, uncle, cousin. Even his father. He'd seen things since the attack on the Pembroke Road, things that made his father's brutal attack seem trivial.
Gordon laughed. "You were chomping at the bit to not be summoned home, and now you tell me you're missing it?"
"It's winter," Samuel said and Gordon laughed again, this time with understanding.
"Yes, it's been blasted cold. The winter we've had would make anyone want to be home. Sitting beside a roaring fire, a beer in one hand and a plate of meat in the other. I don't blame you for wanting to be at Fresh Water with your family, even if it meant being with that mad man you call father," Gordon said.
He was always saying things like that, Samuel realised. Always quick to turn their conversations into an attack on Samuel's father. It twisted something inside him, made him want to scream at Gordon that yes, Benjamin had murdered Gordon's men but at least he didn't rape innocent women! Didn't terrorise children and burn down their houses! Samuel's father was a madman? Gods, Gordon had far surpassed him in the race toward that title.
But that was dangerous thinking and Samuel needed to start being smarter than his emotions.
"I don't call him father," Samuel said, as he'd been saying all these months. Only now, it felt like a lie. Benjamin Martin was his father. Benjamin Martin attacked those British soldiers on the Pembroke road, for taking his sons - and his other men - prisoner. Benjamin Martin had saved the lives of his sons and men that day, for they surely would have perished on a prison ship by now, if he hadn't. These deserters had done far worse, at far less provocation. What had those women ever done to Gordon?
"There's a good lad," Gordon laughed again and ruffled Samuel's hair. Samuel again suppressed the urge to scream at him. Instead, he set his tricorn back on his head, so Gordon couldn't do that anymore.
"Why are we here?" Samuel asked, not really expecting an answer. "There's nothing here, just negroes and mosquitoes."
"Don't worry, we won't be staying," Gordon said. Samuel would have pointed out that that wasn't an answer, but he knew he had to continue to be the boy Gordon expected him to be. And that boy hadn't ever questioned Gordon, he'd trusted Gordon completely and utterly.
Utterly wrongly, Samuel thought.
"Tonight, when we make camp, we'll train, alright?" Gordon asked. Samuel tried to make himself appear excited.
"Alright, that would be great!" He said, as bright and chipper and stupid as the boy Gordon expected.
"Alright, son," Gordon grinned. "I need to talk to these folks - I want you to stay here with the men. We won't be long."
Foreboding lanced through Samuel's gut as the unit stopped and several of the men - including Gordon, dismounted. Those few crossed toward the shanties a few rods away. Wary negroes - who'd already stopped what they were doing at the sight of the unit - watched Gordon approach.
The other men - those still mounted - hadn't heard Gordon tell Samuel to stay put. Filled with agitation, he glanced at the nearest.
"I'm starved. Might go see if they've got something to eat," he said. The fellow - one of the newcomers, shrugged.
"Bring back a jug, if they've got one," he said.
"In this woeful lot?" Another asked. "You dream fondly, my friend."
"Worth a try," he replied.
"I will try," Samuel said. Gordon had his back to him, he did not see Samuel run to the back of the shanty. He circled around and then stopped when he came upon a dark faced woman working inside. "Have you food?" He asked. "And ale? I can pay."
The woman, looking terrified - no doubt at the presence of the soldiers - nodded and invited him in. As she gathered some provisions, Samuel sidled to the wall, where Gordon was speaking to the negro men just on the other side. He kept to the shadows, for the driftwood had gaps as large as his fist and if Gordon glanced to his left, he would see Samuel for certain.
The gaps worked against him, but they worked for him as well. He might as well have been standing at Gordon's side, he could hear every word they were saying.
"…Putman took 'em," the negro said. "Months ago."
Putman! Did he mean uncle Mark? Gordon's stream of cursing sliced into Samuel's thoughts.
"I was told they were here," Gordon raged when he stopped swearing. "They've all gone? Mrs. Selton? And the eldest daughter - Margaret is her name. She's gone too?"
"The children. Wife. Sister. All go with him," the negro said.
"Where?" Gordon asked harshly. He looked ready to pummel the negro to atoms.
"Plantation few miles from here. Singleton's," the negro said, taking a full step back.
As if he'd forgotten the negroes, Gordon began to rant to the other men. "This was a waste of time! I should have fucked that bitch when I had the chance. That piece of shit Brownlow stopped me. I could have gotten away with it - no way would she have told Tavington. I offered him a turn to placate him but the bastard refused. And then she escaped - the damned bitch, and she took the girl with her. And now she's gone again?"
"Have you directions?" One of the other men asked the former slave, who was looking horrified.
"Yes, we need to know where Singleton lives," Gordon said, rounding on the negro.
"Ah… I not know. I ask," the negro said, seeming to regret having mentioned Singleton's name. He backed away, then turned and ran.
"Don't worry, we'll find out where it is. He said it's only a few miles away," one of Gordon's men said. "And we're no Brownlow's, we won't stop you having at either of them."
Another one said, "I just wish Martin was there to watch us."
"Let's follow the negro, see who he talks to," Gordon spat. The men began striding in the same direction as the former slave. Samuel turned horrified eyes toward the woman, who stared back at him just as shocked.
"My family," Samuel whispered. "He's talking about my aunt. My sister. I know what they've been doing - these men. They… they force themselves on… and now they'll do it to my aunt. My sister. Please, you have to tell me where they are - where is Singleton's?" He was on the verge of panic and tears, he saw the woman's face soften as she realised he wasn't working with the other men.
"You know Abigail?" The woman asked as she quickly folded provisions into a cloth.
"Yes, she raised me, she was my nurse! Is she here?"
"She with your family. Before she go, she tell us not to tell Britishers where they go. Cuffy - that he outside, who told about Singleton's, he never should have. But no one will say more now, no directions given to Britishers. Only me, to you." She began to whisper precisely how to reach Mr. Singleton's Plantation. When she was finished, she handed him the bundle and he reached into his pockets for several coins, his trembling fingers dropped on the floor.
"It alright - you go, go," she said, dropping to the floor to pick them up. Samuel ran out of the shanty. Keeping the shanty to his back, he went around a longer route, taking the time to calm himself and to make it appear as though he had been in a different section of the settlement entirely, not in the shanty where he could eavesdrop on Gordon. By the time he returned, Gordon and the men were mounted and Gordon's face was thunder. He clearly hadn't received the directions he was after. Putting on a cheerful smile, Samuel pretended not to notice Gordon's fury as he handed the bundle up to the fellow who'd asked for ale.
"Sorry, no jug, but I did get some scraps for you." He'd made it look as though the fellow had sent Samuel in - that Samuel had been performing an errand. He held his breath, hoping the fellow wouldn't say something to give the lie away.
"Eh, didn't really expect them too. My thanks," he took the bundle and Samuel released the breath he'd been holding. He fixed a grin on his face as he turned to Gordon.
"We going then?" He asked. He was nothing more than the eager, stupid boy again. "And we'll train tonight? You promised."
"Yes," Gordon said. "Just like I promised. Let's go."
It was almost nightfall and as the men didn't know the way to Mr. Singleton's, they had no choice but to make camp for the night. They would need to visit homesteads to ask directions and they could not do that in the dark, when the countryside had retired for the night.
When Gordon trained with Samuel that night, it was with a ferocity he'd never displayed before. Each blow of the practice sword was meant to be bruising. Samuel was strong now though, and he knew Gordon's moves, most of the blows were blocked before impact. Those that connected were punishing, the pain immense. The force behind Gordon's attempts grew with his mounting frustration - at not being able to hurt Samuel, at not being able to harm Samuel's family.
Yet.
Finally, Gordon called a halt. Perhaps some sense had returned and with it, Samuel's father figure. That's what Gordon had become, or so Samuel had felt. Up until now.
"We have an early start," Gordon said. "Go get some sleep."
Now this, this is what Samuel had been waiting for. He tried not to look desperate, forced himself to be calm in his approach. "I'm wide awake now though, Captain," he said. "I can never sleep after training. Can I take first watch? Reckon I'll sleep like a baby afterward."
"As long as you don't fall asleep before, son," Gordon said.
"I've never fallen asleep on sentry duty," Samuel said.
"You've never been made to take first watch, either," Gordon said.
"Please? I won't be ready to sleep until I'm called to watch and then I probably will fall asleep on duty."
"Yes, alright," Gordon said, seeing the sense in that. He told Samuel which position to watch from and Samuel set off. Gordon always positioned four sentries, one to watch each side of the camp. The sentries always kept watch from the saddle, they rode back and forth along their designated section, listening and watching for intruders. It was not unusual - indeed, it was expected - that Samuel fetch his horse.
Alone now in the woods on the outskirts of camp, Samuel made his preparations. By light of a firebrand, he packed his belongings into his saddlebags. Then, on a long stick, he staked an unlit firebrand into the ground. Anyone seeing it from the camp would assume that was Samuel, even well after he was gone. Now, still holding his lit firebrand, he mounted and began to walk the horse back and forth and away from the camp for a few yards, while the rest of the camp settled down for the night, safe and secure in the knowledge that the sentries would alert them to danger. Samuel kept watch filled with agitation. Lord, if Gordon had thought to ask around Gullah, he would have had the directions too, and he would have been at Singleton's within an hour.
You have all night and some of the morning, Samuel thought. He had that long until Gordon reached Singleton's.
Samuel turned his horse toward the camp, he stretched his ears to listen for every movement and whisper within. He also kept his eyes on the other sentries, he could see their firebrands occasionally, which meant they could see his. When he couldn't see theirs, that meant they wouldn't be able to see his bobbing through the woods away from the camp when it was time to leave it.
Riding his slow circuit until the deserters to fall asleep left him with far too much time to think. It made him feel strange - how quickly he'd gone from 'these men are my family now' and feeling as though he were one of their number, to being an outsider among criminals. They were no longer his men.
They never had been.
Gordon, Samuel realised, had had a vendetta against Samuel's father from the start.
Captain Gordon had become a father to him, he'd taken Samuel under his wing, taught him how to wield a sword and more. Taught him how to be a soldier. Treated him like his own son. And all the while, he'd been intending to force himself on Aunt Charlotte, and from what Samuel heard, on Maggie as well.
Why had he feigned friendship with Samuel?
Revenge on father, for killing his men. As soon as the thought entered his head, he knew it to be true. His siblings had known it all along, they'd tried to warn him that Gordon was up to no good. But Samuel had thought his father was the devil back then, and Gordon his salvation. Samuel had been a party to the atrocity on the Pembroke Road, the brutal killing of half of Gordon's unit. He'd been so desperate to absolve himself, he'd been blind to Gordon utterly.
But his eyes were open now. Gordon had been unable to get his revenge on Benjamin Martin through the other children - so he'd sunk his claws into Samuel instead. But now the other children were near to hand and if Gordon got hold of them, they were all going to suffer.
Samuel was nothing to these people, he knew that now. It hurt, knowing the truth, tears blurred his vision and snot ran down his nose, he sat there in the saddle, huddled in his great cloak and wept like a child of seven. But he wasn't a little boy anymore. He needed to think like a man, now. A man in danger, surrounded by enemies, enemies who would do great harm to his family.
His family.
These men weren't his family, they never had been. Samuel had to protect his real family, his flesh, his blood, his brothers and his sisters. His Aunty. He forced himself to stop weeping, he couldn't hear the rest of the camp over that snivelling. Wiping his eyes, he waited in the cold, ears strained until he was certain that the last of the men had finally fallen asleep. Then, he rode slowly to the place where he'd staked a torch into the ground. From there, he watched the torches of the sentries keeping duty to his left and to his right. When he could no longer see their torches, he lit the staked torch, then turned and rode quietly away.
Samuel was not very familiar with the area at all, but the negro woman's instructions were very good. Initially, he stopped often to glance back for pursuit from Gordon's camp, but there was none. Perhaps the ruse with the torch had worked - though Samuel had worried that the other sentries would wonder why Samuel was saying in one place when they saw the torch hadn't moved, that they might come to investigate. Perhaps, at that very moment, the sentries were doing just that. Perhaps, at that very moment, Gordon's deserters were getting ready to come after him...
Once he reached the King's Road, he needed only to travel along it until he reached a grain mill and a lumber mill. Singleton's would be easy to find from there, the woman had said, and she'd been right. He judged that nearly two hours had passed since he'd left Gordon's camp. Now, he was riding hard up the carriage lane that led directly to the Great House.
He was challenged by Mr. Danvers before he reached the porch steps. Samuel pulled the reins and approached more slowly, as astonished as Danvers.
"Dear God," he said. "Is my father here, then?"
"Samuel," Danvers climbed down the steps and came to his stirrup, bathing his face in the light of Samuel's torch. "Jesus, you're alive! Your father? No lad, he's up in North Carolina. He sent me and some boys here to look after your aunt and the children."
"Thank God! How many of you are there?" Samuel asked. He'd gone to all consuming relief at seeing Danvers, for he assumed that meant his father was there. Then came crushing disappointment, to learn that his father wasn't. Now was relief again, for Gordon wouldn't have had such an easy time of his intentions, not with Benjamin's militia here.
"You say that like there's danger coming," Danvers said, having seen the expressions playing across Samuel's face.
"There is. That Gordon. I didn't know - I didn't realise it, but he's a madman. I thought papa was, because he butchered those men and you did to, we all did, we killed them and it left me feeling sick for the longest time and I was set against papa for the longest time but I'm not anymore. I know the truth now. Gordon wants to hurt papa for hurting his men, it's why he's been kind to me all this time, it's like he was trying to steal me from papa or something, which would hurt papa, wouldn't it? If another man stole his son -"
"It has hurt him greatly," Danvers said gravely.
"I'm sorry for it - I'm sorry I ever left. But I know the truth now. Gordon was going to… to…" Samuel drew a shuddering breath and continued on in a whisper, "force himself on aunt Charlotte - back when Tavington commanded him to whip her. But Brownlow stopped him." - Danvers nodded agreement and Samuel realised Danvers already knew this. - "Gordon hasn't ever forgotten it. He still wants to… do that… to Aunt Charlotte. And to Maggie to, I think."
"Jesus Christ!" Danvers muttered, his face stark horror in Samuel's torchlight.
"He's done it before, he's been doing it for weeks, maybe even longer, though he's tried to hide it from me. Every homestead we pass, it doesn't matter how little or how grand. If there's women there, they are… they are… Gordon goes in with his men and he… he…"
"I understand, lad, no need to say it," Danvers said, looking sick himself. "We already heard about it - Tavington the bastard has ordered those horrors to be afflicted on women whose husband's fight in the Patriot militia's."
"No. I mean, yes, but I didn't realise it was only Patriot women he was doing that to. I mean no - it wasn't at Tavington's command, I swear it on my life. I went through Gordon's things and found a letter from Tavington recalling Gordon. Gordon ignored it - which means he's a deserter. And I found a publication saying the same. They're all deserters - the British have said so, and when they're caught, they'll hang." Danvers mouth began to fall open with shock. "I swear it, Mr. Danvers, they are not acting on Tavington's command. I thought they were, Gordon said we were Tavington's eyes and ears in the field, a swift, mobile force, gathering intelligence. Only more and more men started joining us, and we weren't swift anymore. And nor were we only gaining intelligence. Instead, we began… I mean, they. Not we. I never did - I never hurt those women or burned their homes, I swear it on my life. I was told to hang back and look after the horses but I grew suspicious and I started to go look at what they were doing and what they were doing…" Samuel shuddered. "None of it was by Tavington's command."
"Alright lad, calm down now. I know you'd never do those things. I'm so glad you've finally seen sense and come home. You're safe now, you're safe here."
"But that's just it. I'm not. None of us are. I mean, depending on how many men you have here. How many do you have? Please say a hundred. Or five hundred -"
"Ten," Danvers said, becoming wary. "What do you mean, we're not safe here?"
"They're coming. Gordon has been looking for Aunt Charlotte, all this time. We just went to Gullah, where Gordon hoped to find her. But a negro there told him that Uncle Mark bought her and the children away to Mr. Singleton's months ago. Gordon started to rave about that, about wanting to get hold of Aunt Charlotte, to… to… and he wants to do that to Maggie, too. I heard him, I went inside a shanty where I could hear him, I heard all of it. I asked a negro woman where Singleton's was and she seemed to know - she'd heard what Gordon said too and was horrified so she told me how to get here, so I could come here and warn her. But you've only got ten men and Gordon, he has sixty!"
"Damn and blast it," Danvers said. "How far behind are they?"
"They didn't get directions, so they bedded down for the night. They're going to set out real early, they'll ask direction on the way, until they reach here. I took first watch, and as soon as the rest of them were asleep, I slipped away. I left a lit torch behind as a decoy, so they'd think I was still there. Then I followed the woman's directions. Took me nearly two hours to reach you, I think."
"We can't leave this to chance - we'll assume the worst - that they've discovered you're missing and are already on their way, for they very well might be. Come, lad, we have to wake the others."
"Thank God you're here," Samuel said as Danvers took charge of the situation.
"Thank God you came," Danvers said, slapping Samuel on the back.
"Sammie!" Maggie cried as she rushed into the parlour. She threw her arms around him and held on tight. She was far too much like a happy excited puppy to have been told what was going on. Samuel held her tight, shocked at how much his sister had changed. "Oh my God, look at you, look how much you've grown!" She said, stepping back from him. Under the circumstances, he didn't twit her for her tears, he felt like weeping himself. "I'm so glad you've come back to us," she stepped up to him again and began to weep in earnest. "You don't know how I've worried for you, and how much we all miss you. Thank you for coming back to us, Sammie."
"Thank you for not being angry with me," he replied, embracing her again.
"Oh, I am angry with you," she half laughed, half sobbed. "The scolding will start as soon as I've stopped crying."
Despite everything, he laughed. She wiped her tears and with a warm smile, she said, "happy birthday for yesterday."
"Oh my God," he whispered. He hadn't even known what day it was, hadn't even been thinking of his birthday. But here was his sister, doing exactly that. Overcome, he sat on the chaise and began to sob. Margaret sat with him, holding him and stroking his back. He felt the chaise dip and he looked up to see Aunt Charlotte had joined them, her arm was around him too. She looked grave and worried - clearly, she had been told what was going on. Susan, who must be eight now, for her birthday was before his, threw her arms around him. William, still nine, for his birthday was still to come, hung back, grinning. "It was your birthday, too," Samuel half wept to Susan. "You're eight now. Happy birthday."
Birthdays. Real family knew when it was each others birthdays. Gordon hadn't ever thought to enquire.
"Do you have something for me?" Susan asked and Samuel barked a sobbing laugh.
"No, sister," Samuel said.
"Yes, you do," Maggie said, wiping her tears. "You've bought her you."
"I'm sure she'd have preferred a toy," Samuel tried to grin.
"No, I'm happy to have you," Susan said, climbing into his lap. He was astonished how big he'd gotten, that she could. Samuel looked at Aunt Charlotte, who stroked dark hair back from his face.
"It's so good to see you, Sammie," she said. "I'm so glad you've come back to us."
"I never should have left."
"Let's not," she shook her head. "Accusations, recriminations, our family has been torn apart and we need to put it back together. Let's not revisit what happened, you're here and that's all that matters."
It was then that Samuel remembered Aunt Charlotte's great sin, her betrayal of his father. How could he have forgotten? He stared at her gravely, not knowing what to say. He was saved the need of giving a response by Danvers and two others, who entered, firearms at the ready.
"Samuel has bought with him some deeply troubling news," Danvers said to the children. "It seems that Captain Gordon, you remember him?"
"Of course," Margaret said, frowning.
"Well, he is set quite firmly against your father. So firmly that he has made it clear that he means to get at your father by visiting great harm upon you," he gestured to them all. Maggie's face drained of colour. Danvers continued to speak of what they needed to do, but Samuel was looking past him at Anne, who was just now entering, looking terrified. He hadn't even known she was here. And she was pregnant, her stomach round with Gabriel's child. Would Gordon have visited his hatred upon her, as well? Samuel fought back the urge to vomit. "…likely got a very good head start on him, thanks to your brothers efforts in coming here immediately with his warning. But we're going to behave as though he's right on Sammie's trail. Now don't worry - Gordon isn't," Danvers said, reassuring them so they didn't panic. "But let's act like he is. I need all of you to get dressed, and then pack quick as you can. And pack only what can be carried on a horse - anything else can be sent for later."
"The baby won't last the night out in that cold!" Margaret said and Samuel frowned, glancing at Anne again. They'd need to be careful, to be sure, but Anne's baby would be fine, surely? Babies didn't get cold in the womb, if their mother's were outside, did they? He didn't know and before he could ask, Danvers answered Margaret.
"The deserters are coming here, Miss Margaret. Which means we need to be away from here. But we need not go far. I know of some good folk nearby who will take us in - you'll all be beside a warm fire again soon enough. Everything is in hand - you just do your part and we'll do the rest. Go, children, Abigail and Polly are waiting for you above," Danvers clapped his hands. "Go now."
Charlotte patted Samuel's back, then she and Anne followed the children upstairs. Samuel returned outside, where Benjamin's militia were preparing to leave.
"It's good to see you, Sammie," Kevin Rollins said as Samuel approached. "Danvers has told Singleton to send a man to the nearest British, to inform them where the deserters are," he said, shaking Samuel's hand.
"That's - - that's brilliant!" Samuel gasped. "I didn't think of that! They can go and capture the lot of them!"
"They'd need to get there in time," Kevin said wryly. "Might be that they find an empty camp, if Gordon's lot are already after you. The messenger will also tell the British of Gordon's intentions here, but you can't get excited about that, either, because the British might not be able to get here in time to intercept the deserters. Still, at least they'll know their general whereabouts. Until they're captured, they're a threat to your family, so we'd better get away from here as quickly as possible."
When Kevin asked, Samuel told him everything he'd told Danvers - it was good to get it all off his chest to those who would help him, and it helped to pass the time, as well.
At length, the children, Margaret and Anne emerged from the house and they were assigned a militiaman to ride with.
Samuel glanced to the porch, where Charlotte was speaking with a gentleman - Mr. Singleton, he was told. Mr. Singleton appeared to be trying to convince her of something, but she was waving him away. A young woman was fussing with a sling, tying it off around Aunt Charlotte's shoulders. Within it was an infant child, this was the baby Maggie had spoken of. Samuel stared, appalled, believing the baby to be Charlotte's, either by his father - or by Major Bordon. Was the timing right? He had no idea. She finally fended Mr. Singleton off and she approached Samuel.
"This is Matthew, he is your cousin," Charlotte said and Samuel took a full step back from her. If it was his cousin and not his brother, that meant it was Bordon's. Samuel stared at her with solemn eyes. "You're half right," she said, guessing his train of thought. "It's Major Bordon's, but it's not mine."
Samuel's horror eased to a frown.
"I've much to tell you, Sammie, and most of it isn't good. Can I ride with you?" She asked.
That awful foreboding seemed to be following him, he felt it again now, lurking along his spine. He helped her to mount then climbed up behind her. As soon as they were on their way, Charlotte's tale began to unfold.
"You look as exhausted as I feel," Harmony said to Beth. The two were sitting on Harmony's narrow bed - Harmony reclined against the pillows and Beth sitting on the side. Cilla, holding Harmony's baby, sat in a chair set before them, rocking the baby in her arms.
"Didn't sleep," Beth said, eyes on her hands.
"He's a bastard," Harmony said weakly, still exhausted after giving birth. "I told him I never want to speak to him again. I never want to set eyes on him again."
"Don't," Beth whispered, dropping her face to her hands. Harmony rubbed her back, but Beth hadn't started crying. She'd wept all night and half the morning, she didn't think she had any tears left. "Just, don't."
"I'm worried about you," Harmony said.
"I'm fine. I'll be fine. It's not as though I haven't been through this before, isn't it? We're always hurting each other, it's probably for the best that it's over."
"You don't really believe that," Harmony said.
"I wasn't returning to him, remember? I wanted to go to my aunt Charlotte. I'm not claiming this isn't agonising." Beth paused to take a shuddering breath. "It is. It's… heartbreaking. Again." She heaved a sigh. "But… maybe we're just not… right for each other. We cause each other so much pain. I was in another man's bed - for months. His friend's bed. I wouldn't forgive him, if he did that to me. I wouldn't have forgiven him, if he'd been bedding Linda like she'd led me to believe he was. I did that to him, and I knew it was probable that he'd set me aside."
"Well, he's a damned fool isn't he? He's throwing over a beautiful woman who loves him, as well as twenty thousand pounds and all those acres in the Low Country. You're better off without him," Cilla sniffed.
"He's not a fool for giving my inheritance up. I think it's quite telling, that he's willing to do so. It goes to show - he must have fallen out of love with me completely, I think, and not even my fortune is enough to keep him by me."
"Oh, Beth," Harmony heaved a sigh.
"I think you're right, Cil. I might be, in the end. Better off, I mean," Beth agreed. "He will be too. Apart, we can't tear each other to pieces and that's all we seem able to do. I'll be glad for this, one day."
Cilla and Harmony shared a disturbed look over Beth's bowed head. They could see by her too pale face and sunken eyes, her hunched shoulders and listless demeanour that William's intentions had wounded her deeply. Her words did not match her deep heartache.
"You can't simply get over it - don't try to ignore it, Beth," Cilla said, also worried. "I know that this is hurting you. Don't bury it."
Beth nodded wordlessly.
"And cry," Harmony added. "Let it all out. And if you're angry - and I think you should be - then let that out too. Scream at him. How dare he do this to you? You should be angry, Beth."
"That might come," Beth said softly. "At the moment, I'm just…" She choked off, struggling not to weep. She closed her eyes and breathed out slowly. "I'm not saying this isn't hurting me. It is. But I understand how it goes, now. The pain. Heartache. I've been through it, I'll get through it again. But the baby…" She placed her hand on her stomach as she opened her eyes. "It's his. Our baby is going to grow up without a father and that… That is what hurts most of all -" she choked off, her hand over her mouth, tears falling after all. "He's turning his back on our baby." The women were silent, Harmony rubbing Beth's back as she drew several deep breaths to rein back the sobs. "I understand why; he thinks it's not his and he won't set eyes on Banastre's bastard. But it's not. It's his."
"I know," Harmony said gravely. "And one day, when he realises that, he's the one that is going to be filled with regret and despair. And there won't be a damned thing he can do to mend it, for it will be too late. He'll never get those years back again."
"Another thing that saddens me," Beth whispered. "That he'll miss out on his son or daughter."
"His choice," Cilla said. "A poor one, and one he'll have to live with. But it's his and his alone - no one is making him do this."
Beth nodded and closed her eyes again. "Let's not… no more. This is a time to rejoice." Opening her eyes, she said, "I'm sorry I wasn't here for you last night."
"Are you mad?" Harmony gasped. "I understand completely why you couldn't be. I wish I could have been there for you."
"Now whose the mad one?" Beth asked with a wan smile. "I think you were going through quite enough."
"As were you. Besides, there's nothing you could have done for me - I had Cilla and Mrs. Garland," Harmony said. "So don't feel bad for not being here last night." Beth nodded and returned her attention to the fingers in her lap.
"Yes, you did have me," Cilla said, attempting to lighten the mood. "And oh, that was the longest night and morning of my life, oh yes it was!" Cilla cooed at the baby in her arms. "But it was so very worth it!"
"The longest night of your life?" Harmony snorted from where she reclined in the bed. "It was the longest and most painful of mine."
"Oh, but she is so very worth it," Cilla said, using a silly voice for she was speaking to the baby, not to Harmony. "Oh, yes you are, Lydia Bordon. Little Miss Lydia Bordon. Oh, you have your father's hair, you do, and his eyes -"
"Mine are blue too," Harmony said peevishly.
"This is what my child will look like," Cilla said wistfully.
"Only much shorter," Harmony laughed.
"Oh, you," Cilla swatted playfully at Harmony's arm.
"Your baby will likely have your brown eyes," Harmony said, shuffling her exhausted body a little higher so she could gaze down at her daughter. Her voice softened. "She is beautiful, isn't she?"
"As beautiful as a tiny little angel."
"Oh Cilla," Harmony said, her voice cracking on a sob. "I am so grateful to you -"
"Whatever for?" Cilla gasped.
"That's your husband's bastard and yet you are holding her as if she's your own child."
"You are my sister and this child is my niece, Harmony," Cilla said, iron in her voice. "And I am falling in love with her already."
As Harmony began to weep, Cilla moved to sit beside her on the bed. She freed one arm from the baby and put it around Harmony's shoulders, comforting her. "Richard, Lydia, you and I; we are family." Beth, seeing how awkward the two looked, with Cilla cradling Lydia in only one arm, reached out to take the baby. Cilla, her arm free now, patted her own stomach. "Lydia will be sister to my own child. I know most wives wouldn't embrace this. Then again, most wives wouldn't want anything to do with their husband's mistress at all - former or current. But we're so far past all of that, I feel as close to you as I do to Beth. Besides, it's just the three of us now, with my stupid husband making me stay at the Ferguson's too, when he promised he would never leave me behind!" Her voice had become hard, but she forced the anger away. "All we've got is each other."
"I'm so pleased you're coming," Beth said to them both. "It's the only solace I take in any of this - that you're coming too. Even if you'd rather stay with Richard," she said to Cilla. To Harmony, she said, "and even if you'll be… raising that whore's child." Beth curled her lip. "He'll raise the bastard he got on her but he won't raise his own child?"
"What's he got to give your child anyway?" Harmony sniffed. "You were always the one with the fortune. I'll do my best to keep the child away from you."
"The child is an innocent," Cilla said, gently chiding Beth.
"I know. But she will also be a constant reminder of what that whore's child will have, and mine will not," Beth paused, then finished, "a father. He intends to come back for her, remember?"
"Well, the child is never going to have a mother, where yours will," Harmony said, as gently as Cilla.
"Yes. Small consolation." Beth gazed down at Lydia. At length, a smile tugged at the corners of her cold lips. "Cilla is right, she's beautiful, Harmony," she said as she handed the baby back to its mother.
"I find I must agree," Harmony said, taking Lydia into her arms and staring down at the angel's perfect face. Beth rose and straightened her skirts around her legs, then put on her wide brimmed hat.
"I'm going to head back and see how the packing is going. Are you alright?" She asked Harmony, who nodded.
The two women on the bed watched Beth step outside, they caught sight of Nancy and Shadow Dancer before the tent flap fell closed.
"Are you worried about her?" Cilla asked.
"Does bread need yeast to rise? Yes, Cilla, I'm damned worried about her."
"We'll need to keep a very close eye on her in the coming days."
"Good thing you're coming then, isn't it?" Harmony smiled and shoved against Cilla with her shoulder.
"Don't you start," Cilla said darkly. "I am in no way amused by Richard's decision, not one little bit."
"William's baby is innocent, Cil. I'd hoped that Beth would come to feel the same for Louisa one day, as you do for Lydia," Harmony said, her voice still trembling.
"Oh, Harm," Cilla shook her head. "That's a completely different story and you know it. Like I said, we're family," Cilla whispered and Harmony nodded, wiping her eyes as she drew a deep breath to calm. "Beth will never look at Louisa and see family. Especially not with William ending their marriage now and acknowledging Linda's get while denying his own. Besides, Beth is likely never going to see Louisa, when William returns to take her away."
"If he returns," Harmony said. "He said he will leave Louisa a legacy, in case he dies. And in that case, I will have the raising of her."
"Even then, Beth won't see Louisa much - not in the long term. Beth will be at Fresh Water and we'll be… Lord, I have no idea where we'll be."
Harmony nodded. It was a different situation, Beth wasn't going to bond with her husband's daughter as Cilla was with hers. "I am so angry with him," fury entered Harmony's exhausted voice.
"Did you really say those things to him?"
"That I never want to lay eyes on him again? Lord, yes. Here he is, acting as though he's the only one with bruises. As though he's the only one to have been unfairly treated. He's been hard done by. As if he's innocent and has never hurt a soul. I reminded him that he hurt Beth plenty, back when she was innocent. I couldn't mention that with Beth here, but I reminded him what he did to you - Richard forced himself on you, and William did nothing -"
"You said that to him?" Cilla asked.
"Damned right I did. He is making the choice to destroy Beth all over again, and now his child with her. As if he didn't do enough of that back in the city. I wasn't going to let him walk away thinking he's the poor, saintly victim."
Before Cilla could reply the tent flap stirred again and Richard entered. Cilla felt Harmony grow as stiff as a buckboard, as Richard stepped deeper into the tent, unsure of his welcome. Harmony handed Lydia to Cilla, then threw her legs over the side of the bed, her back to Richard. Cilla understood, she was to present the child to Richard herself, Harmony would have no part in it. Cilla, as angry as she was with Richard for forcing her to go to the Ferguson's, felt her heart break at the look on his face. Sighing, she climbed off the bed and rose, smiling up at her husband as she presented to him his daughter.
He stared down at the baby uncertainly, his eyes lifted to Cilla as if asking permission. Or, she realised, as if asking for instructions. "Like this," she said, positioning his arms as she laid the baby in them.
"So light," he whispered, staring down into the babies face.
"She has your hair," Cilla said.
"And her mother's eyes," Richard said, glancing at Harmony, whose back as a rigid post. Cilla shook her head, silently advising Richard not to bother. His stricken glance cut into her soul and she reached up to lay a hand alongside his face.
"Congratulations, husband. You have a daughter."
Moved beyond words, he could only nod. "She's beautiful."
"We were just saying that very same thing."
"And the name - Lydia?" He asked, looking at Cilla, and then to Harmony's back. "Are you in agreement? She doesn't have to be Lydia if you don't think it suits her -"
"It suits her," Harmony said shortly without turning.
"Harmony is honoured that you've given her child your mother's name. Aren't you Harmony?" Cilla asked, prompting.
"As long as she's been acknowledged, I care not who she's named after," Harmony said, still without turning.
"I always told you I'd acknowledge our child, Harmony," Richard said, frowning.
"You told me many things, Richard, and most of them were lies," Harmony snapped.
"So!" Cilla said brightly, over compensating in the hope of derailing an argument. "Mrs. Garland has said that little Lydia is the picture of health, she's got all her fingers and all her toes, and she's as pretty as a summer day is bright. It will take a few days for Harm's milk to come in, but Lydia is getting more than enough through other means - she's got an appetite to match her father's."
"Will it be safe for her, the journey to the Ferguson's?" He asked.
"It's only a few miles, you said. And she'll be in a carriage… Mrs. Garland suggested Harm wear her clothes in such a way that will allow for little Lydia to be carried against Harm's skin, to share warmth."
The tent flap stirred again and Mrs. Andrews entered carrying a small bundle. The bundle squirmed and made small noises. Linda's child, William's bastard. Cilla stared, aghast, as Mrs. Andrews came deeper into the tent. Innocent the child might be, it was still as difficult for Cilla to accept the child, as it was for Beth to.
"Miss Farshaw?" Mrs. Andrews said. "Shall we try again?"
"Alright," Harmony had turned and was now pulling at the top of her shift, allowing it to fall open. There was no modesty now - Cilla has seen Harmony in all her glory during the night and earlier that day, when Lydia had been put to her breast. Mrs. Andrews unwrapped the bundle and hovered over Harmony, laying the baby in Harmony's arms before proceeding to help Harmony to nurse.
William's child with Linda had her mother's dark red hair and her father's blue eyes. Cilla turned her back. William's natural child was innocent, just as Cilla had said. But still. To make a fuss over Louisa as she had Lydia would be to spit in Beth's eye and besides, Louisa was a bastard of a former whore.
Richard had turned away also, to Cilla's relief. He was giving his former mistress some privacy - but Cilla was just glad he wasn't ogling Harmony's breasts. There were noises behind them, slurping sounds, then Louisa crying, Mrs. Andrews' encouraging murmurs. By unspoken agreement, Richard and Cilla made for the entrance and were soon outside, standing in the chill mid afternoon air.
"We'll be leaving soon," Richard said, cradling Lydia. "Would you like to go for a walk, spend some time together before we do? This will be the last chance for us to be alone for some time. I'm going to miss you."
"Then don't send me away, you big dolt," Cilla said.
"Cil," Richard sighed.
"You should stay right here, for this could be the last time you see your daughter for sometime."
He smiled down at her, touched her face, then leaned down to kiss her cheek. "I love you," he said.
"And I you. Isn't that all the more reason to keep me with you?"
"No, you little dolt, it's all the more reason to send you away," he replied.
"Don't call me a dolt," she said and he laughed.
"It's going to get too dangerous, Cil," he said, sobering. "I've told you - we're the rear guard and the rebels are constantly attacking."
"I know. Did you hear that Miss Cordell's father was killed in the latest attack?" She asked and Richard nodded.
"She's going to need you. They're all going to need you. Harmony. Beth. Miss Cordell. Lydia. And I need you safe. You are pregnant and you've been through so much lately, with your mother and… I just want to know that you're safe and if you're with me, I'll be constantly worried that you're not. If anything happens to you, or to this child," he pressed his hand on her stomach. "I don't want to lose another, Cil."
"I know. Everything you've said makes sense, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. But you're right, Beth needs me. Harmony needs me. As does Miss Cordell. I will go with them, but by God, I'm going to be so worried for you, each moment of every day."
"I'll write as often as I can," he promised.
"That is no substitution for the real thing."
"I know," he smiled. "Perhaps Beth can be persuaded to sketch your likeness for me? And Lydia's?"
"Now there's an idea, and it might help to take her mind off… other things."
"How is Beth?"
"Distraught. I think she was half expecting it, but now it's happened… I don't understand it - why now?"
"I think it's that we're so near the Ferguson's, perhaps he thinks it's now or never."
"Hell of a reason to end your marriage."
"Now, you know there was much more to it than that, Cil. She was with another man - for months!"
"You'd better set me aside too, then. Or perhaps you are? Are you intending to come back for me?"
"You're being absurd."
"I was unfaithful with that exact same man."
"And I've yet to settle that score with him," Richard said darkly. "I was unfaithful to you, too, if you recall. Perhaps you're setting me aside?"
Cilla's laughter was high and bright.
"Or perhaps you're going to use this opportunity to run away from me again?"
"Never," she said, reaching up onto the tips of her toes to kiss his cheek. "When you return, I'll be there, waiting."
He pressed his forehead to hers and they stood there a while, soaking in one another's company, not knowing when they would see each other again. Eventually Lydia began to squirm and make little sounds.
"I think she's hungry," Cilla said. "Better take her back inside. Are you coming?"
"No," Richard shook his head as he handed the baby back to Cilla. "There's too much to do. How much time do you think Harmony needs? We need to take down the tent and get her belongings on the cart."
"A half hour, perhaps? To feed Lydia and get dressed?"
Richard nodded. "A half hour it is. I'll send someone for you and Harmony then." He kissed her forehead again, and the two parted - Richard for his horse, as Cilla turned back into the tent.
Wrapping himself in stony silence, William mounted Thunder, gave the signal, and the Company began to move out. He made it perhaps twenty rods when a junior officer galloped toward him, carrying a satchel.
"Your correspondence. It arrived just now from the main camp, Colonel," the junior said.
"Anything from O'Hara or Cornwallis?" William asked as he took it.
"No, Sir. It appears to be letters from England, and one from General Clinton," the youth said.
Nothing urgent then, if that were the case. William placed the packet in his saddlebags and continued on his way without a backward glance. He hadn't watched earlier as Beth climbed into the carriage. He hadn't been able to look Cilla or Harmony in the eye when he saw them earlier, either. This was hard enough, without that. The Dragoons were escorting two carriages and a cart laden with the women's belongings. At the front, down either side, and at the rear were positioned sixty Dragoons, for William had decided to increase the escort from two score to three.
His reasoning was, Beth had previously reported to William that Benjamin had somewhere in the vicinity of nine hundred men. It was Benjamin's militia that kept attacking William's Legion, Cornwallis' rear guard. At least William strongly suspected that it was - that Benjamin was leading those attacks. And here was William, about to leave the safety of the main army. As he was to be exposed for nearly two miles, he'd damned well do it with more than forty men.
While William would never hide behind women and children for safety, he knew that Martin would not attack William's sixty men while en-route to the Ferguson's, for Benjamin would not risk harming his own daughter and his niece and by extension, his unborn grandchild and great niece or nephew.
On the way back, however - when William was no longer encumbered with pregnant women and the children - all bets would be off. Benjamin hadn't hesitated to take William captive even while William was married to Beth. And now that he was no longer that, if Benjamin captured him again, he was not likely to let him go.
As soon as he was no longer encumbered with the wagons, William intended to make a mad dash back to his Legion; he knew he could cover the distance from the Ferguson's in half the time, without the wagons. The element of surprise was on his side. It was his hope that by the time Benjamin was made aware that William had left the Legion with Beth, William himself would already be returned to the safety of his Legion.
This wasn't how Benjamin wanted to die. Laid up in bed, struggling for every breath. Pneumonia, it was said, was an old man's friend, but Benjamin was not an old man. He'd happily die in his sleep one day - it would be a good way to go. But not now, he was barely fifty years old! He had at least another thirty years, surely? There was too much for him to do yet. He had to find Samuel. He had to make his failings up to his children, to reconcile properly - even with Charlotte. His family - as Beth had said - was broken and he had to put the pieces together again, those pieces that were not lost to him entirely. He could not die now.
Ebenezer Jones, who served as Benjamin's doctor in the militia, wasn't entirely certain it was pneumonia, but Benjamin was so damned sick, he was treating the ailment as if it were.
Shifting his head on the pillow, Benjamin gazed out the window. The glass was clean but the distortions made the trees outside appear crooked, like he was looking through streaks of water. They couldn't open the window to give him a clearer view, because it was too cold. He couldn't get up and go outside for a better view, because he could barely stand, much less walk. He was hot and then cold, and weak constantly. He could barely keep the food down that Jones tried to shove into his mouth - Benjamin hated that too - the vomiting of food that he'd had no desire to eat in the first place.
It was horrid, whether it was pneumonia or not, whatever it was, it was horrid.
Thomas and Nathan blamed the British. They blamed his imprisonment, for making him weak to the point that a flux he'd normally shrug off in a few days would have Benjamin thinking he was going to die. The boys were terrified, they took turns sitting by his bedside, awaiting his every whim. He didn't have many of those - except perhaps some water now and then. Certainly not the food Jones forced him to eat. When he was better - if, not when - he was going to discharge that bastard from the damned militia.
"Do you want something, papa?" Nathan asked - it was his turn to sit vigil. It must be bloody boring for them, they'd been at it for days. Benjamin shook his head and Nathan subsided, returning to his book.
The door opened and Colin and stepped inside. He was grave, he moved in that cringing, hand wringing sort of way a person did, when they carried bad news. Weakly, Benjamin said, "you look like someone died."
"Tavington is coming," Colin said. Benjamin understood exactly what that meant. With a groan of dismay, he closed his eyes. Colin continued. "He sent a man on ahead, he'll be here in the next half hour."
"So that's it then," Benjamin said heavily, opening his eyes. "Decision made."
"It would appear so," Colin said.
"That bastard," Nathan muttered. "Beth must be beside herself."
"You said she was forced to return to him," Colin said. "Maybe this is what she wants?"
"It isn't," Benjamin said, knowing it to be true. He was overcome by a wracking cough that went on for some time, leaving him drained. Gods, his chest hurt, his ribs ached like he'd been punched a hundred times by a giant. His eyes were streaming when he finally subsided, he had to wipe them to see Colin and Nathan, the latter of which was standing over him, helping him to sit upright. "Lay me down," Benjamin whispered, voice breathy, barely able to form the words. Once he was reclined against the pillows again, he stared up at the ceiling, breathed in and out slowly, trying to get more air into his starved lungs. At length, he said softly, "you'd better send Thomas up here," the words were halted, Benjamin coughed between every few words now. "If Tavington sees him, it'll… be as good as announcing my… presence and then we'll be forced to take… him captive, when I promised… he would have safe conduct." Too many words at once, it was draining him. But he needed to be clear, absolutely and utterly. "I want no such… accidents. And Colin, make sure…he signs it before… he leaves," Benjamin said. "Beth's marriage is at an end and I will suffer no ambiguity on that score."
"Yes, Sir," Colin said. "I'll have the annulment out, ready and waiting." Colin turned back to the door and slipped out.
"Colin should summon the men up from camp, father. This would make for the perfect opportunity to seize sixty Dragoons, including Tavington," Nathan said.
"Colin knows… that I've commanded otherwise. To attack William now… when I've promised him safe conduct… would reflect poorly upon me… and on the militia. I gave my word. Therefore, he will be treated… as if he is under parlay… which affords him and his men… safe conduct here… and safe conduct back."
"If he's setting Beth aside, then we don't owe him nothing," Nathan complained.
"We owed him nothing… to start with, son. But I gave my word that… should he make the decision to… set Beth aside, he would… do so with immunity. My presence here… does not change that. I will not give the militia… the command to attack."
"Yes, papa," Nathan said, sounding incredibly disappointed.
"Now hush… let your old man… rest," Benjamin closed his eyes and was grateful when Nathan said nothing more. He hadn't spoken that much in days and it was taking it out of him - this talking and coughing. Thinking of Beth, he realised he had one more thing to say after all. Without opening his eyes, he said, "send her up… when she gets here… want to see… my little girl."
"Yes, papa."
