Reply to Guest review: Thank you for taking the time to review :-) Some of your questions are answered here in this chapter. Yes, it's so easy to get the wrong end of the stick in social situations and Harmony is very touchy around women who are of a higher rank to her. Thanks again!


Chapter 156: Dead in the Water:

30th January, 1781

With a quick glance over his shoulder, Captain Brownlow slogged through the mud of the narrow trail between the makeshift tents in the cordoned off area that was the surviving Green Dragoons prison. Brownlow kept his head down and his pace steady, resisting the urge to run. He passed Electa, but not even her sultry, beautiful smile was able to ease him. He had no time for the temptress, not now. He noted the other women in camp - Nancy, Miss Cordell, Mrs. Garland, Mrs. Farshaw and Mrs. Bordon. Mrs. Tavington was no where to be seen but there was nothing strange there; since their fraught arrival two days ago, she had been spending as much time at the Great House at her father's side as she did in the camp by her husband's.

Mary and Nancy Ferguson were gone, though, and Brownlow's anxiety increased. The large medical tent came into view on his left, where Richard lay dying. To his right was Tavington's tent where Brownlow came to a stop.

Brownlow found the Colonel where he'd left him - lying flat on his cot. At that moment, Tavington was lifting one leg and then the other, the wounded one slowly, to keep the blood flowing. He stopped this exercise when Brownlow suddenly filled the doorway.

"What is it?" Tavington asked sharply.

Brownlow glanced down the narrow, muddy trail again, then stepped inside the tent.

"In the last hour, the militia guarding us has increased from twelve to thirty," he said quietly. "And Mrs. Ferguson and Miss Ferguson appear to have been recalled to the Great House."

"Damn and blast it," William blew out a frustrated breath.

"What are we going to do?" Patrick asked, unable to keep the nerves from his voice.

"There's not a damned thing we can do," William replied. "It was a gamble from the start, we knew the risk. But still. Damn and blast it to hell."

"Do you think Mrs. Andrews was discovered?" Brownlow asked. "Was she caught? Or perhaps Ferguson was?"

"I fear for them both," William said solemnly. "Warn the others."

Brownlow did. George Jutland first, as he was in the medical tent across from William's small hovel. He then found Hamish and Elisha tending wounded Dragoons and warned both that there was trouble brewing. This done, Brownlow resolved to keep close to Tavington, to protect his prone Commander. Though he had no weapons, he could fight like a demon when he had to. Standing outside the tent, he stretched his arms and his legs, working warmth into both, preparing his body as best he could.

The fight, when it came, was over before it began. Even a demon would be hard pressed against twenty militiamen. To the sounds of protesting wounded Dragoons, Brownlow's arms were seized and he was dragged away from the small camp; Elisha, George and Hamish behind him.

At least he got a few good punches in, before the militia could subdue him. His own face was beginning to swell and blood dripped from his lip. But at least he had that.


William lay on his cot, useless to help his men as Brownlow was beaten and all four men dragged away.

"What's happening?" Harmony gasped, looking terrified. "Where are they taking them? Why are they taking them?" She'd tried to stop the militia only to have been pushed back into Richard's tent and held back while her father and brother were taken.

"We tried to get word off the plantation, to advise Cornwallis of our whereabouts," William said.

"You what?" Harmony gasped. "Let me guess, it failed and now my father and brother are in danger!"

"I'm afraid so," William said. The noise of the Dragoon's seizure began to die down and five militiamen came to William's tent. He tried to keep a cold expression but inside, he was rife with nerves. Would Benjamin allow these men to beat a wounded man? His own son in law?

"Get back now," one of them commanded of Harmony. When she refused, she was made to obey, with two of the men taking hold of her arms and dragging her and threatening to put her in confinement if her protests continued. William shouted and tried to rise but again, was useless as he fell back in agony on the cot.

Suddenly Cilla was there, standing at the entrance to her husband's tent. "Unhand her, Mr. Scott," she commanded.

"Miss Putman, our orders are -"

"Mrs. Bordon," Cilla corrected sharply. "And I doubt your orders have anything to do with Mrs. Farshaw. Leave her to me, I will keep her in hand. If you do not, I will take the matter up with my uncle."

"If she tries anything stupid - if any of the women try anything stupid - we will be forced to take measures," he replied. "Don't force my hand, Mrs. Bordon."

Cilla nodded. She placed her arm around Harmony's shoulders, reaching up to do it for she was so much shorter, and guided her back to Richard's tent.

William fell back on his cot, profoundly grateful for the intervention, for there was absolutely nothing he could have done to help Harmony, not in his condition. The militia took up position outside his tent, letting no one near.


Ignoring the five militia standing outside his tent, William draped his arm over his eyes and lamented the failure of his plot, which might have put both Colin Ferguson and Mrs. Andrews in danger. And the rest of them, also.

Martin had been as indulgent as his guilt made him, but he would not ignore this.

If William had just been patient, none of this would be happening. Cornwallis would have found him eventually and this little rebel militia band would be bought to its knees. Cornwallis would still come, but now, because of William's plot, Brownlow, Hamish, George and Elisha could be hanged before he did.

William was not left to his brooding for long before the Martin children arrived, including Beth. Thomas led the posse, the others hot on his heels, Beth struggling to keep up on the narrow path.

"Are you out of your mind?" Thomas snapped, towering over William. "Trying to get word to the Lobsters. Are you mad?"

"Wait!" A gasping, female voice called out. And then Beth was there. "Wait!" Beth gasped breathlessly, she pushed past Thomas and then pressed her hands to her stomach, leaning over as she tried to catch her breath.

William stared coldly at Thomas. His body screamed with agony as he tried to push himself up on the cot; he knew he was being foolish, trying to sit up, but he did not enjoy having Thomas looming over him like this. Beth made a panicked noise and pushed William back down, so he shifted his glare to her. She ignored it as she took a seat at his bedside, then placed her hand on his shoulder, pressing hard to make sure he stayed down. He allowed her this small measure of control, for she was right - it was pure agony to try to sit.

All the while, Thomas continued to rant, with an injured looking Nathan standing behind him.

"Trying to get Colin to go to the British. You've gone and gotten Mrs. Andrews into trouble, there's talk of whipping her! And now Patrick, both Jutland's and Miller are all confined. There are those up at the House that say your wounded don't matter anymore, not after this. There's talk that maybe we should revoke medical care entirely, after this stunt!"

William wished he could call Thomas to heel. But William was the captive, and neither Thomas nor Nathan recognised his seniority over them. He recalled the day he first landed eyes on Thomas - and Nathan, and Mrs. Selton, who had introduced herself as Mrs. Cambridge. And Thomas as 'Daniel'. Thomas had punched William so hard in the mouth that day, William had thought he'd be spitting teeth for the next week. The lad looked very much like he wished to do so again now. William wondered when Thomas had gotten so damned big, and for a moment, he felt fear. Fear quickly shifted to shame, at feeling fear.

"Cousin, can I…" Cilla said, trying to get in. Nathan moved out of the way to allow her to crowd in. "They won't will they? Revoke medical care?" She asked Thomas.

"I don't know, but you can thank that damned fool if they do," Thomas said, throwing his hand toward Tavington, who was growing more livid by the moment.

Fool, was he? "I should have hanged you that day when I had the chance," he said to Thomas, more to remind to himself that he'd been strong and powerful, once. In command. It felt good to have Thomas draw back in surprise, felt even better that the lad was no longer looming.

"What were you hoping for?' Nathan asked, looking hurt. "That me and Tom would be caught by your British? That papa would? Isn't he sick enough for you already? Don't you care about us?"

"I would have protected you, Nathan," William said, frustrated. "I would have ensured you had better quarters than I've been provided." He spat, gesturing at the old tarps that were his only shelter.

"William, my brothers have done all they could to provide you with everything they were able," Beth chided gently.

He realised how ungrateful he sounded, but he was still too angry and frustrated to care. How the devil had they found out?

"You ask if I care about you," Tavington said to Nathan. "Well, I thought I mattered to you, also. Until I heard that Putman was allowed to go free last night rather than getting the hanging he deserved!"

Cilla shifted from one foot to the other, looking conflicted.

"Escaped," Thomas corrected.

"Don't give me that horse shit," William curled his lip.

"Is that why you tried this?' Beth asked, stroking William's hair. "Because of my uncle?"

"He was going to kill me, Beth, and your father let him leave. Just let him go. Yet Benjamin makes me stay, despite his remorse and his assertion that I was taken without his approval. I was captured under false orders, yet your father does nothing to correct it! He lets the one that gave the false order bloody leave though, doesn't he? If one of my men gave false orders, he'd be hanged!" William again tried to sit up. Instead, he winced as agony shot up his leg and through his pelvis. He lay still, panting through the pain. It didn't occur to him until that moment, just how much it bothered him, that Putman was allowed to leave after trying to kill William, while William was forced to stay. "I thought I was family now." He snapped when he was finally able to. Thomas and Nathan exchanged a glance, but neither said a word. William was aware of Cilla's eyes on him, but he could not discern her thoughts. "He allows the man that was going to kill me to go free. Because that man is family."

"So you think he must not consider you to be family?" Beth asked, voice soothing as her fingers curled over his. "William, my father was caught in a very difficult position. You are family, but you are also an enemy. Also, you are only being kept prisoner. Uncle Mark was going to hang."

"Oh, he was never going to hang," William snorted with contempt.

"Actually, he was," Cilla said seriously. "And it's only because of me that he didn't."

William met and held her gaze.

"He tried to kill you. He tried to kill my husband. But he is my father, William," she said, her dark brown eyes shining bright with tears. "My father's actions forced my uncle's hand. Killing your Dragoons; Dalton and his men who were sent to search for the men who tried to rape me. Lying to my uncle's men and making them attack you thinking that Uncle Ben commanded it. I assure you, uncle Ben was determined to show no quarter. Until he sent for me." Something else entered her eyes, not just tears. A look of steel, pointed directly at William, willing him to understand what her cousins never could. "He asked me questions, about you. And Richard. And why I married him."

William drew a shuddering breath, his entire body growing tense.

"I answered him truthfully," Cilla said, chin raised high, her face marble despite the tear now sliding down one cheek. "I begged uncle Benjamin to let my father go. Understanding why my father has been the way he has, what has been driving him to these atrocities, my uncle acquiesced."

William was breathing heavily. The rape. Gods, Benjamin knew Richard raped Cilla.

Beth and her brothers were exchanging glances; they knew that, despite being right there in the tent, they were being left out of the core of the discussion.

"Why did you marry him?" Beth asked, breaking the tableau between Cilla and William. Cilla's shoulders relaxed, a sad smile crossed her lips. She wiped the tear from her cheek.

"Because my reputation had taken quite a beating," she said. "Being cooped up with so many Dragoons for weeks and weeks. There were those in the city who were angry that father got away after being found guilty of treason. And there were rumours that I had been helping him. I don't know who started it, but someone must have been angry enough with me, and feeling discontent that I wasn't being punished, to start rumours that I was bedding the Dragoons in my father's house. Or," she shrugged, looking thoughtful. "Perhaps this person got their information mixed, perhaps they'd heard about mamma and Richard but thought I was the one bedding him. Whatever the case, I was ruined as far as my uncle Christopher was concerned. So he took me to Winnsboro and Richard marry me. I believe you know the rest."

Beth nodded, this had been intimated to her in the past but not in such detail.

"Uncle Ben did not mean to slight you when he allowed my father to go free," Cilla said to William, that steel entering her eyes again. "I think he felt I'd been through more than enough, without having to watch my father hang. Surely you agree?" This part was said tartly, again the true meaning of the question was for William and William alone.

William licked his lips, his heart thundering in his chest. At length, he too nodded.

"He settled for exiling my father," Cilla continued. "I know you will find that concerning, however I spoke to my father before he left and I managed to drag a promise out of him, and I believe he will keep it. He's not to return to South Carolina, he's not to come after you. Or Richard, if Richard survives."

"And you believe that will hold him?" William asked.

"With all my heart, I do," Cilla said.

"By God, I hope you're right," William muttered.

Thomas said, "if the British win, he won't be able to return. If we win, he still won't be able to. Rutledge might have papa's head for not hanging him when he had the chance. Our uncle will find no welcome in South Carolina, I assure you."

"Hmm," William gave a noncommittal grunt. "Wait, what of Ferguson?" He asked, remembering to be worried for Colin. "If Mrs. Andrews is to be flogged, what will happen to Ferguson? And how were they even caught?"

"Jesus, William!" Thomas scoffed. "Colin bought the letter to us as soon as Mrs. Andrews gave it to him. Colin is ours! He has been all along -"

"Ever since he reached North Carolina," Nathan spoke up loudly, interrupting Thomas, whose face flooded red for some reason. "When he arrived here, his cousins started in on him for having been a Green Dragoon. Gave him a really hard time. He said he left the Dragoons and wasn't fighting anymore, but that wasn't good enough for them. Although he had no intention of fighting for either side, they pressured him until he joined the militia."

"He turned," William said, feeling every bit the fool. "How long?"

"He fought with us at Kings Mountain," Thomas replied. "He was the Captain of one of Shelby's units back then."

"Didn't hold out for long then, did he?" William asked, sullen. The battle at Kings Mountain occurred shortly after Colin left Fresh Water for North Carolina. Days, perhaps a week of pressure was all it took. That, and William's conduct, which was the reason Colin resigned from the Dragoons in the first place. His actions toward Beth, his failings as a Commander, had lost him a very promising Officer indeed. Now he was learning that same Officer had turned completely and joined the other side. Just as Mr. Tisdale had, back in the city. Blaming himself, he wondered how often his past misconduct was going to come back to haunt him. "Is there anything you can do for Mrs. Andrews?" He asked the youths.

"They'll do nothing to her without my father's orders," Beth said, mettle entering her voice.

"What of Richard?" Cilla asked. "Will he really revoke medical care of my husband?"

"I can't say," Thomas said helplessly.

"But I seriously doubt it," Beth added. "He's asleep now, but when he wakes, I will speak on both their behalves."

"Speak? Or yell?" William asked, smiling up at her.

"I try not to yell now, but if I must, I must," she grinned back. "There's nothing I can do for the men, though." She said, her smile fading.

"I wouldn't expect you to," he said. He looked to the boys. "So what can I expect from your militia now?"

"Increased guard here," Thomas said with a shrug. "Beyond that, I just don't know, the end decision will be father's."

"Where are they going to be kept?" William asked, fretting. He'd spoken ungratefully of his shelter earlier, but at least it was shelter. Would Brownlow, George, Hamish and Miller even have that much, now?

"I don't know, William. I just don't. Papa will decide and then we'll all know."

"Our attempt to send word out was only a means to expedite what is naturally going to happen, very soon," William warned. "You know that, don't you? Cornwallis will have already sent hundreds of men out in search of us. A day, maybe two, and we'll be found."

"You have no idea what's happening out there, William," Thomas said gravely. "I assure you, brother, no rescue is coming for you." With that, Thomas strode from the tent, clearly still irritated that William had tried to get a letter off the Plantation. Nathan followed him.

"I'm going back to Richard," Cilla said. "You'll talk to uncle Ben?"

"I will," Beth said.

When they were alone, Beth gazed down at William, face solemn. "I'm sorry, dear heart, but he's right. I really wish you'd waited for me to return, before you attempted this. If I'd known, I could have advised you…"

William's breath caught in his throat. "Tell me," he said, and she did. She spoke of the nearly two thousand strong force - combined of Martin's and Shelby's militia, who were at that moment covering every single road and river crossing, every trail, even the smallest. A rabbit could not cross that line without being intercepted. There was fighting out there, as Cornwallis - who indeed had sent searchers out - as his forces were battling with and being turned back by Beth's father's men, and those of Colonel Shelby's.

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid you're stuck here with your family," she said, smiling to cushion the blow.

"Why?" William breathed. "Why would your father go to such lengths to keep me captive, when I wasn't meant to be taken in the first place?"

"It's as he's said, he'll play the hand he's been dealt. He won't betray the Cause by letting an enemy go when one has been captured. And if he'd released you, he would have been putting his own men at risk of being captured. And he won't risk that you won't reveal his position, which would be devastating for him. He's too weak to travel, William. He can't flee at the drop of a hat, if we learned the British were approaching because you told them where we are."

"I wouldn't have done that," William said.

"Oh, my husband," Beth laughed softly, kissing his forehead as she would a child. "That's exactly what you tried to do."

William heaved a breath, then nodded agreement.

That was exactly what he'd tried to do.

"When your father wakes, tell him it wasn't personal, I didn't mean him harm. I meant what I said to Nathan, I would have protected him."

"I'll tell him. I doubt he'll see it that way, but I'll tell him." She was silent a moment, then brightened somewhat. "It's not as though he would expect anything else from you - you're his son in law, but you are on enemy sides. I don't think he'll take this personally." She paused again, then added in a troubled voice, "I certainly hope."


"Well, that plot ended… before it began," Benjamin said. His eyes were bloodshot and there was a grey pallor about his face. He was supported by pillows into an upright position, to aid in his breathing. Beth sat cross legged on the bed facing him. Thomas, Nathan, Watson and Colin took up other chairs or leaned against the wall. Benjamin glanced at Colin, then barked a laugh. "Giving the letter to you of all people… Gods, William's plan was... dead in the water!"

"While I'm relieved that you can see the funny side, I warn you not to laugh, father. You'll only start coughing again," Beth chided, handing him a glass of water.

Colin shared a grin with Thomas and Nathan. "I have to admit, it was the first amusing thing to have happen since the attack."

Nicholas Watson said, "we decided to increase the guard on the wounded. We also removed Brownlow, the Jutland's and Mr. Miller and have them in confinement. Brownlow fought like a damned fool so he's scuffed up a bit, but nothing too serious. Mrs. Andrews is being held in a room, also under guard."

"Some of the other Officers are calling for their whipping - even for Mrs. Andrews," Nathan said.

"Their reasoning?" Benjamin asked, surprised.

"Mrs. Andrews was allowed to come and go from the house where she was looking after the babies, to the hospital where she was helping with the wounded. She was given a measure of trust, which she betrayed, by plotting with our enemy."

"And this is where we all need to cover our ears, Beth gets quite shrill when she starts screaming," Thomas said.

"I just… What's the point in whipping any of them?" Beth asked, throwing her hands up. "As you said, papa - the plan was dead in the water. No harm has been done - it's not as though Colin was going to grab a horse and go riding off to find the first British patrol just because William asked him to."

"The point is, he could have done," Benjamin said gravely. "The point is, William tried."

"As if you wouldn't have," Beth scoffed. "As if Thomas, Nathan and Lieutenant Watson here didn't do exactly that, to rescue you. With a letter, no less."

"That's different, that was us," Thomas said.

"It's not different. This is war, and soldiers will do their duty to the side they're on," Beth said.

"And when caught they are punished for it. Those Officers and Mrs. Andrews should be punished for it," Watson said.

"Were you punished for rescuing my father?" Beth asked, eyebrow arched.

"No, but I wasn't stupid enough to be caught," he shot back.

"The dead plan is all the punishment they need," Beth said. She turned back to her father. "Uncle Mark was going to kill William, papa. That was his intention. Attack the Dragoons, kill William, your son in law. You let Uncle Mark go -"

"He escaped," Benjamin said, raising one hand weakly. Beth laughed at him.

"Yes, we all believe that. Gods, papa, we're not stupid, we knew even before Cilla confirmed it. You let Uncle Mark go, yet you're making William stay. Now he thinks you value Uncle Mark more than him."

"Jesus, William is still… an enemy," Benjamin said. "I'm not going to… betray the Cause… by letting him go, no matter… how it hurts his… feelings."

"That's not what I'm saying," Beth said. "You can't expect him to sit still and not even try to get word to his people."

"No, we wouldn't expect that of an enemy," Thomas said. "But William knew what would happen if Colin had followed the letters instructions. The British would have come and we'd all be prisoners. He is grouchy that papa is making him stay, despite us being family? Yet he was going to do that to us, despite us being family."

"You're just going around and around now," Watson said, stepping in before the siblings could start bickering. "A decision needs to be made about their punishment."

"I need Mrs. Andrews," Beth said to her father. "She's helping to look after the babies."

"Where is Mrs. Jutland?" Benjamin asked.

"Mrs. Farshaw," Beth corrected.

"Mrs. Farshaw. Why isn't she looking after her own baby?"

"She is," Beth said. "But much of her time is spent at Bordon's bedside."

"That's his wife's place, that's Cilla's right," Benjamin said, voice hard.

"Cilla is there too. Harmony is not usurping her place, papa. Cilla wants her there, she needs her there," Beth said. Benjamin's eyes grew wide. "Well, I can't be there for Cil as much as I'd like, I'm looking after you and William. Cilla needs support and she has that in Harmony."

"It's not right," Benjamin said.

"Because Harmony was Richard's mistress? Harm and Cil have become as close as sisters, papa. If Cil wants her there, who are you to gainsay it?" Beth folded her arms across her chest. "They need each other, especially now. Mrs. Andrews and Mrs. Garland are looking after the babies, while the rest of the women are looking after the wounded. We're spread thin as it is -"

"Mrs. Andrews should have thought of that before -" Watson began.

"Mrs. Andrews is completely and utterly loyal to my husband and she should not be punished for that," Beth snapped, suddenly angry. "Jesus Christ, the goddamn plan failed! Dead in the water, remember? If you whip her, you'll incapacitate her, and that will be punishing me! Damn and blast it, I need her! We bloody need the men as well, unless you're going to make the militiamen help us! I'll have you remember that all this horseshit started because my father's militia - of which you are an Officer - don't know the difference between their Colonel's orders and false ones give by my uncle! If not for that, none of this would be happening, my husband and Mrs. Andrews and the sixty dead Dragoons would be far from here, alive and well! Of course William would try to bloody escape! But after everything that's been done to them, after everything they bloody lost, let the punishment for this attempt be their bloody failure. Nothing more is needed!"

"So much for ladylike," Nathan said and Thomas snorted.

"Do you have any idea what toll this is taking on me?" Beth asked, surging from the bed to her feet. "How little I've slept? How worried I've been? For papa, for my husband? And now there's all this rot to deal with. And you," she rounded on Watson. "You want to whip a woman? My God, Nicholas, what happened to you?"

"I do not want to whip a woman," he replied gravely. "But there was a conspiracy and the other Officers are demanding for the conspirators to be punished, and I fear that if your father does not, then it will be seen as favouring Tavington - yet again - and he can't afford to keep doing that, and continue to retain the Loyalty and respect of his men!"

"So make a joke of it," Thomas shrugged as Beth and Nicholas continued to glare at one another. "Get the men laughing at Brownlow's, Jutland's and Miller's expense. Humiliate them - just a little - that never hurt anyone," he glanced about the room, saw everyone was listening. "You know, tie them to the back of a horse and make them walk about camp, parade them where everyone can point and laugh at how stupid they are, thinking that Captain Colin Ferguson would help them. That will appease our Officers as much as a whipping would. Then they can all be sent back to the prison camp and everyone's happy. Except the Dragoons, I suppose."

"I refuse to allow Mrs. Andrews to be a part of that," Beth said, voice iron.

"I believe… That is my decision, daughter," Benjamin said, his voice every bit as hard. The room fell silent, all turned to the sick man who was still the Commander. "They will not be lashed, nor kept... separated. We do not have enough men… to tend the wounds they'll get from being whipped or to keep... them permanently separated from the others. Send them back… to the wounded. Retain… the increased guard… over the prisoners. Mrs. Andrews is denied the luxury… of the Great House." Benjamin began to cough - this was too many words at once - and the others had to wait, Beth slapping her father's back until the fit subsided. When he was ready, he continued weakly, "she is to be… quartered in the… prison camp… and she is not… allowed to leave. No more… free rein for her." He had to stop for another fit of coughing. Beth sat on the bed with him again, keeping the glass of water from shaking too violently as he drank. They waited for him to catch his breath. "The militia is doing… little for the wounded. I need Brownlow… and the others… to continue caring for them. Especially… George Jutland. The increased guard… is to watch them all at all times. Are the other women… showing signs… of dissent?"

"No," Watson and Thomas said in unison.

"Those women are mine, not William's," Beth said. "If William tried this with one of them, they would speak to me about it first. My women are not loyal to William, they don't even know him yet. Well, except for Miss Cordell, but she is Cilla's, not mine."

"And are you… going to try to get… word off the plantation… to have the Dragoons rescued?" Benjamin asked. She could see from the glint in his eyes that the question wasn't a serious one.

"Well, you did tell me to be completely and utterly loyal to my husband," Beth said glibly and her father laughed weakly. Beth added, with a pointed look at Watson, "then again, I wouldn't want to be whipped, so..."

Watson drew in a sharp breath, offended.

"Be that as it may, all of the… women are to be watched. None… are to leave the prison hospital without a militia escort. Mrs. Andrews may… not leave at all. If any of the women are… found without a guard outside… the prison camp, they better have… a damned good reason why," Benjamin shifted his gaze to Nicholas. "Tell any of the Officers who… do not opine this to be… sufficient punishment, to be careful. They are not wholly in my good books. I am less… concerned with losing their regard. After believing Mark's… false orders so swiftly, they should be more concerned… that they have lost mine."

Watson nodded gravely.

"Any who do continue to grumble are… to be sent directly to me," Benjamin finished, and as weak as he was, his voice of command was still strong enough to chill the room. "I am the Commander, my word will not be ignored again." It was a dismissal, an end to the discussion.

"Yes Sir," Watson said, before saluting and leading the way out of the room. Beth hung back for a short while but did not linger long - she had business in camp. With Jutland returning to the camp, there was no need to speak on Cilla and Richard's behalf, but Cilla was waiting for the outcome and Beth would not keep her in suspense. The women needed to be told of the new restrictions and warned that there would be no quarter shown, should any of them bring suspicion onto themselves by walking about the camp without a guard following. And she needed to speak to Mrs. Andrews, to ensure the older woman understood that she was on treacherous ground now. It was Nathan's turn to sit with their father; and after kissing her father's brow, she left her brother to it.

Stepping into the corridor, she was surprised to find Nicholas waiting for her. Though she had been in his company a few times these last few weeks, they had never been alone. She found it distinctly uncomfortable to be so now. Especially with him looking so angry. He towered over her, making her feel quite small. Where were Thomas and Colin? She glanced down the corridor, but both were already gone.

" 'What happened to me?' What was that supposed to mean?" He asked, voice tight.

"You were talking about whipping a woman, Lieutenant," she reminded him.

"And you think I would have enjoyed it? If this plan had worked, if Captain Ferguson wasn't faithful to the Cause, there would be British soldiers crawling all over this place - how many of your father's men would be killed? And me? I'm a traitor, a turncoat. They don't treat kindly with my kind, Mrs. Tavington," he spat the name like it was an insult, loading it with with so much scorn it made Beth's skin crawl. "I would have been hanged. You make me sound like I'm a scoundrel of some sort, for advising that she be punished? How much worse has that bastard you call husband done, to women and children? And yet, it's me you look at like that?"

"I didn't mean -"

"Did you even care for me, back in the city?" He snapped, cutting her off.

"Of course I did," she said, reeling by the sudden change in topic.

"All that time I was courting you, you were already in love with him," Watson spat. "I was falling in love with you and you were stringing me along like it was nothing to you."

"Love?" She gasped, stunned. "Nicholas, I didn't know. No, I wasn't stringing you along. I told you from the start that I was engaged to Burwell, that you and I could only be friends."

"Friends," he snorted. "Yes, I knew about Burwell but I always held out some hope that you and I… I knew you didn't want to marry him. I always hoped that if I could prove myself; to you, to your family, that you and I… But no, you did throw Burwell over, but not for me. You threw him over for Tavington, for crying out loud. After everything that bastard did to you?"

"I am sorry you harboured the desire that I be with you, but I never, ever strung you along and I resent the accusation that I did," Beth said firmly. "I also do not appreciate you inferring that I did not want to marry Harry Burwell or that I was the one to end my engagement to him. I was going to marry Harry, I had every intention of it. In the end, I didn't throw him over for anyone, not even for William. Burwell ended it with me. Further, I never, ever said or did anything to give you the impression that I would set Burwell aside for you, or anyone else. You feeling it doesn't mean it was ever going to happen."

He stared down at her like she'd sprung a second head. Or torn out his heart. She wasn't sure which. She softened her voice.

"I'm sorry Nicholas. I know what it feels like, to love someone and them not love you back. I'm sorry if this is hurting you. I am sorry this is how you're feeling, but despite our rough start, despite our history, I love my husband and he loves me. I can't change it, that you despise him. His actions were such, that I don't think I'd even bother trying. But I forgive him, and I love him, and we are married and we are going to try to make it work. That doesn't mean you and I can't be friendly, though, does it? I was never my design to hurt you."

"Be friendly," Watson scoffed. "Gods."

"What else are we supposed to do? Ignore each other entirely?" She asked. "That would be so uncomfortable. Especially when I still like you. I enjoyed your company back in the city. You were always so calm. I always felt as though I were in the middle of a storm back then, but I always felt so comfortable and steady when you were near."

"Do you think… If you had never met him…" He was looking downward, staring at his feet.

"I do think," she replied. "If I hadn't already been engaged to Harry. If I'd never met William. I definitely do think that you and I…" She blushed, her face burning.

"It doesn't do to dwell on what ifs," he said sadly.

"It doesn't do to dwell at all," she replied. "So," she held out her hand to his, offering him to take it. "Friends?"

"Friends," he said, taking hold of her fingers and bowing over them. He did not kiss them as he had once done, and he released his hold quickly.

"Thank you," she said, relieved. "And thank you for staying back to talk to me; I think the air between us needed to be cleared."

"I stayed back because I was angry and wanted to confront you," Nicholas pointed out.

She smiled brightly. "Still, the air is clear, is it not? And now we're friends again."

He laughed softly despite himself.

"You'll find someone, Nicholas. Someone wise and beautiful, witty and kind. Pure, honest. Unsullied…" she trailed off. "I was those things, back then. But I haven't been for a long time. I'm not the same person I was then, not at all. Believe me, you wouldn't want me, not as I am now." She felt him tense, as though he were about to deny it, to defend her to her. But she shook her head. "I don't despise myself, not anymore. I've accepted who I am because I know that I wasn't the only one who helped me to be here. But I am at fault, as well. I am with fault. You'll find someone who isn't; she'll be perfect, Nicholas. You'll see."

He gave a nod, but she wasn't entirely certain he agreed. She didn't have the time to coddle him, however; she was spread far too thin as it was. Giving him what she hoped was a reassuring smile, she continued her way back to her husband.