Chapter 164 - The Aftermath:

George Jutland's small Plantation:

The sight of the two story stripped pine cabin raised the same desperate emotion it had the last time Harmony saw it.

Home.

She tried to determine how long it had been since she had left it last - with William, Richard, her father and brother. A month? Longer?

Last time, she'd half jogged, half stumbled toward the house, her heavy pregnancy making her clumsy. Now, she was seated alongside Mr. Miller at the front of the wagon, her baby daughter wrapped in layers of wool.

Last time, Amberley had come from the house, followed by their mother and Claire, and all had been astonished to see her. Now, the women - including Grace Farshaw - stood on the porch, watching the approach gravely. Not a single one of the women wore smiles to greet their family home. They stood still with an air of melancholy. Despite Calvin being disowned by the Farshaw's, they were still grieving his death. Harmony wasn't sure why Amberley was looking so downcast, though.

Word had been sent on ahead of the parties arrival, however the women must only have had a few hours to prepare. On top of the melancholy, the women looked harried and tired. Well, at least Harmony would be able to offer some relief there, as Cilla had bought with them Mrs. Andrews and Miss Cordell.

Harmony's father and brother spurred their mounts forward and the women stepped down from the porch to greet them. Harmony watched as her father and Hamish dismounted and both men were embraced by their wives. Alice was speaking to George, though Harmony wasn't close enough yet to hear what was being said.

Mr. Miller slowed the wagon and came to a stop outside the house. By then, Alice was at Harmony's side, with her arms outstretched, ready to receive her granddaughter. She was smiling now.

"Her name is Lydia," Harmony said as she handed the blanket wrapped bundle down to her mother. "I need to get her inside, near the warmth."

"She's beautiful," Alice said. "And yes, after two days of freezing cold that could have killed her, I agrees, she needs to be in the warmth. What sort of heartless person orders you to travel in the middle of winter, with an infant?"

Harmony was climbing down from the wagon. "It was necessary," she said shortly when she reached the ground. "We have a small stove in the back, it's been quite effective. We've spent most of the time back there."

Alice glanced at the covered wagon bed and nodded once. "I'm taking her in," she said, her attention returning to her granddaughter. Harmony watched as Alice climbed the porch steps and passed by Grace, who averted her gaze from Richard's bastard infant. Harmony gave a regretful sigh, but she understood Grace's reticence.

Harmony made her way toward the back of the wagon, where Mr. Miller was drawing back the rear canvas flaps to form an opening. Inside were Mrs. Andrews, Miss Cordell, and Cilla, sitting beside Richard, who reclined flat on his back. He was still alive, despite Cilla's fears that the travel would kill him.

"We need to figure out how to get him inside," Harmony said to Mr. Miller.

"We'll do it the same way we got him in there," Miller said. "We'll shift him to the litter and carry him."

"Are we welcome here, Harm?" Cilla asked, fear and anxiety adding years to her face. No one would imagine her to be barely past twenty, looking at her now. "Do they know, too?"

"I don't believe so," Harmony said. "Your uncle didn't write it in the letter he sent."

"No, but those carrying his letter on ahead of us might have said something."

"I don't think they know, Cil," Harmony said with a sigh. It had been Cilla's worst fear, the knowledge of her defilement by Bordon becoming public. And now it had been, Cilla's over active imagination had her believing that everyone in the colonies must know by now - two days after it had been revealed miles away. "Martin told those men to be discreet."

Cilla nodded, but still looked worried. As her gaze landed on Captain Rollins and his score of men, her gaze became suspicious. "If any of them talk…"

"Martin told them not to, as well," Harmony said, eyes darting toward their escort. "And they won't be here long enough for gossip anyway - they are to return to the Ferguson's at once. They'll leave as soon as they have the stove." That was the deal. The party could borrow Ferguson's small stove to keep the wagon warm, as long as their escort carried it back with them.

"Mrs. Andrews, can you please quench the coals? And take the stove outside to cool?" Cilla asked. Clearly, the sooner the stove was cool enough for the men to carry, the better. She climbed down with Miller's help, just as Captain Rollins led his horse toward her. "You're to carry a letter to this Dawson fellow, aren't you?" Cilla asked him.

"That I am, Mrs. Bordon," Rollins said, incling his head with respect. He kept his eyes averted from Bordon, still within the wagon. No one cared to look at Bordon now, Harmony had noticed.

Mrs. Andrews was carefully handling the small stove, placing it on the cold ground.

"You won't… well, you'll be discreet, will you not?" Cilla asked Rollins with some of her old sharpness.

Rollins eyes did flick toward Bordon then, and his lips curled with distaste. "Those are my orders, yes."

"And your men?" Cilla asked. "Will they gossip? I have been chased out of my last place of residence, if you can call it that. Will I face the same here?"

"For your sake, Mrs. Bordon, the men will obey their orders," Rollins said. Only for Cilla's sake, Harmony was sure. "If it follows you here, it won't be our doing."

Cilla calmed a little then, though she was still quite tense.

"We shall take our leave of you," Captain Rollins said to Cilla, tipping his hat to her. As he turned away, he commanded one of his men to wrap the still warm stove in clothes. The others were still mounted; and without any of the usual formalities, the escort began to ride away.

George came to join Cilla and Harmony, he scowled at Rollins' back before turning to the young women.

"When we left here, I advised your mother to close the house and stay with the Farshaw's. They've had little time to open the house and make it liveable, but at least it's warm." To Cilla, he said, "if you'll come inside, we'll sit you by the fire. Miller, Hamish, Henry and I will carry Major Bordon up to his new chamber."

"Where are we all staying?" Harmony asked, the house only sported four bed chambers.

"Hamish, Claire and Jeffrey will stay with the Farshaw's - their belongings have already been moved there. The Bordon's will have their chamber. You will have yours, though you and Amberley will both need to share with Mrs. Andrews and Miss Cordell."

"I'll take Mrs. Andrews. Amberley will need to become accustomed to having a maid - Miss Cordell can share with her," Harmony said with a small smile. She noticed Miss Cordell's look of uncertainty. "Don't worry, Amity, you and my sister will get along just fine," Harmony said, reassuring her.

A babies thin cry came from within the house, Lydia was letting the countryside know that she was hungry. "Come, Cil, we're in the way here, let's get inside," Harmony said as Hamish and Henry came to help George and Mr. Miller carry Bordon into the house.

Cilla stood with her back to the window and watched as Mrs. Andrews and Amity put away hers and Richard's belongings. The small chamber was big enough for a large bed pushed up against two walls, a small walkway, a large tall boy for clothes, Cilla's chest, a babies cot and a small table with two chairs. With so much furniture, it was quite cramped, yet it was warm and - compared with her most recent living situation - luxurious. She sat on the bed and took Richard's hand in hers. A sheen of sweat coated his face and she knew he was in pain from the strain of travel on his wounds, but he looked far more comfortable now, too. He'd survived the journey and, in such living conditions as he was in, he actually had a fighting chance of survival. She said so to Richard now.

He nodded, and even that small gesture seemed to cause him pain. Cilla leaned toward the table - the room was small enough that she did not have to rise - and she dipped a clean cloth in the basin of warm water Hamish had bought up earlier. She rang out the cloth, then began to wipe Richard's face.

"All done," Mrs. Andrews said to Cilla. "I'll see about getting Miss Cordell and myself settled in, I won't be far if you need me."

"Thank you," Cilla said with true gratitude. Despite the revelations, Mrs. Andrews and Miss Cordell had both accepted Cilla's offer to leave with her and continue in her service. I just need access to my money, Cilla thought, knowing she would need to pay them soon. And the Jutland's. She needed to pay for board and lodging for all four of them, the small amount of cash she had on her person would not last very long. Uncle Ben will send it through soon. He promised, she tried to set her worry aside.

"I should not have said anything about him turning coat," Richard said for perhaps the hundredth time in two days. She nodded now as she had each time before.

"No. You should not have," she said. They stared at one another for quite a long time. "I knew everything would change if people found out. And boy, did it ever."

"I'm surprised I got out of that camp alive," Richard said tiredly.

"I'm surprised you made it here alive," Cilla said, voice ringing with bitterness. "I'll never forgive my uncle for forcing us to leave."

"If he hadn't, I don't think he could have protected me. Not that he should care if I am alive or dead, but he made promises to you that he would not have been able to keep, if he had kept us there."

"I know," she said. "I suppose it is better that he sent us away. We are safe now, and in a proper room, where you will receive proper care."

Richard drew a ragged breath. "Cilla, I didn't mean… What William said, about me forgetting about what I did to you. He is right. Sort of. For a time. Everything has been so well between us and I did almost forget and I'm so terribly sorry for it."

"Richard, I don't want you living in purgatory!" She said, taking hold of his hands and grasping them tightly. "I've told you once, I've told you a hundred times. I don't want that for us. Your constant guilt, your pledge that you'll take that guilt to your grave. I wanted things to be normal between us and they have been! I don't fault you for it - this almost forgetting - I preferred it that way. All that guilt before, every single hour of every single day, it was killing you as surely as your wounds. I've enjoyed that we can laugh together, be happy with one another. How many times must I say it? I forgive you and that is what forgiveness is! I want you to live here in the real world with me, where mundane matters matter to you, without your guilt constantly ruling and overriding your every thought. I didn't want you to be stuck there, in the dungeon, forever. I wanted for the memories to fade for you as they have for me," she paused, then took a deep breath. Her voice hardened. "Though I do wish you hadn't forgotten to the point where you could find fault in others. Especially in William, who knew the truth. You should never have provoked him. I'm not saying you should always keep your opinions to yourself - you should be free to express them, especially with something as grave as a fellow Officer turning coat. But you should not have pressed William on it - for in that moment of fury at your hypocrisy, he forgot his vow to me and now everyone knows. Gods."

"I'm sorry," Richard said, squeezing her hands. "Cil, I am so sorry."

"I know," she replied. "I didn't want it to come out, but I must look on the bright side of things. Find the silver lining. And this is it," she gestured with one hand to the room. "We have this lovely room and are surrounded by Harmony's family who will care for us both. You are no longer in a prison camp. We are away from everyone, where only a few people know the truth. We can start again now, a new beginning. We have a new beginning." As long as it doesn't become known here in the Shoals, too, she thought fretfully.

"I wish you had let me apologise to Beth, as I have to you."

"No, Richard. I made the right decision that day, keeping her from you."

"Was it as bad as that?" He asked her gravely.

Cilla was quiet for a long time as she probed the painful memory as one does a bruise. It had started with Hamish Jutland informing her that his sister was coming - with the other women. Such a simple pronouncement, yet it had sent dread through her very bones.

"Oh no," Cilla's nerves flared all over again. It was coming - the confrontation she'd been dreading from the moment William had let his tongue run off with him. She shared a stricken look with Richard, before rising. She squared her shoulders. "I can do this."

"Cilla," he called to her as she turned to the entrance of the tent. "You should not have to face this alone."

She turned back to him from the open tent flap. She tried to smile but that was too hard. "I'm not alone, my love." She touched her fingers to her chest, over her heart. "You are with me."

Without waiting for further objection from her husband, she strode outside, determined to meet the women well away from the tent, where Richard could not hear the confrontation.

When she was not too far from the tent, Cilla could see the women of her family walking toward her. Harmony, Aunt Charlotte, her now cousin Anne.

And Beth.

Cilla forced strength into her legs, forced herself to continue walking toward them, until finally coming to a stop beneath the branches of a large oak. After adjusting her cape around her shoulders, she crossed her hands over her stomach and settled in to wait. The women came closer, Cilla's eyes were still fixed on Beth as she tried to gage her cousins reaction to the news. As Beth drew closer still, Cilla was saddened to see that Beth had been weeping. She dropped her hands to her side and with a sigh, she closed the distance between them. Beth, fresh tears falling, threw her arms around Cilla and held on as tight as she could.

"It's alright," Cilla soothed, rubbing Beth's back. It was an awkward embrace, both women forced to lean forward over the swell of their pregnant stomachs. The other women stood back slightly, Charlotte and Anne were both wiping tears from their cheeks with a handkerchief as Beth clung to Cilla and sobbed. "It's alright," Cilla whispered again. "I know it's hard, you're only just learning all this now, but I need you to know that I'm alright."

Charlotte looked back with stark disbelief, while Anne looked bemused. Harmony's gaze was on the ground, not wanting to interfere. You respect my stance but you'll never truly understand me, Cilla thought of Harmony. Beth, she had no doubt, would be exactly the same.

"I'm so sorry," Beth sobbed, holding on tight.

"Whatever for?" Cilla asked, startled.

"For thinking that… you and he… that you willingly… it was easy to believe that," Beth said and Cilla stiffened in offence. Beth hurried on, explaining quickly. "Because I did it too. Or not 'too', because you didn't… but I loved William and we… coupled... before we married. So it was easy to believe that it happened that way for you, too. I didn't judge you for it, I never thought lesser of you. How could I, when I did those things too? But that I thought you would do that - I am so sorry. You never deserved me thinking that of you, not for a single moment."

"Shhh," Cilla soothed again, now that she understood Beth's meaning.

"Gods. What you've gone through. And all alone," Beth whispered. "Oh, Cil, you should have told me. I could have…"

"Done what?" Cilla asked as Beth trailed off. The two women stayed near to each other, though they did lower their arms from the embrace. "All you would have done was despise Richard all the sooner."

Beth's lips tightened and her eyes hardened. For a fraction of a moment only before her lip began quivering again. It was there though, the flash of hatred Cilla had never wanted to see on Beth's face. Damn you William. Damn and bloody blast you to hell.

"This is a secret that should not have been kept. I should have been able to help you," Beth said. "Harmony knew, my father knew, my husband knew. And no one told me."

"At my request," Cilla said. "This is why I didn't want you to know. I don't want you hating Richard - he loves me and I love him. I have forgiven him. I know that is hard for you to understand," her look took in the other women as well, Charlotte, Anne and Harmony, before returning to Beth. "What happened in the dungeon was done in private. And our healing since coming out of the dungeon was also done in private. No one saw either." She could see that they didn't understand what she was saying, which was quite frustrating. How to explain this? "You haven't seen his remorse. You haven't seen how the guilt of his actions has destroyed him. You haven't seen him change into the man he is now. But you know it happened now and so you're going to judge him harshly and perhaps he deserves it - I would say so about any other man who has done what Richard did. But I have seen his remorse, I've felt his pain, an agony he can't escape over a dreadful act that he can not undo. I love him and I love you and now there's going to be a wedge between you when all I wanted - all I wanted - was for us all to be family."

"It would have been based on lies," Beth said, taking Charlotte's wet hanky and wiping her cheeks. "Or at least ignorance. You are my family, Cilla. He is not and nor will he ever be." Charlotte and Anne were both silent, but their nods screamed their agreement with Beth's words.

Cilla was silent a moment, her heart pounding. How was she to salvage this? How was she to convince them? "My world crumbled around me the day I was taken to the dungeon. I've tried so hard, so hard to build it back up. But each time this is revealed to someone new, my world crumbles all over again and I have to start from the beginning. Rebuilding. Always rebuilding. I'm so tired. So wretchedly tired. I keep losing my loved ones, because none of you can understand. My father. Harmony. Now you," she broke off on a sob.

"You'll never lose me," Beth said, putting her arms around Cilla again. "I love you and I always will."

"Maybe I was foolish to believe I could keep it secret forever. And foolish to believe that just because Richard has evolved into the man he is today, that people would not judge him for what he did. It's why I didn't want anyone to know. It's why I swore William, uncle Benjamin and Harmony to secrecy. I knew that just because I forgive him, that didn't mean that my loved ones would also."

"Never for this," Beth whispered harshly. "I just can't. I'm sorry, Cil."

Cilla nodded and hung her head. In a small voice, without looking at her cousin or the other women, she asked, "what is going to happen now?"

"How do you mean?" Charlotte asked, coming forward to lay an arm across Cilla's shoulders.

"Thomas ran from the tent, screaming that he was going to see Richard hanged. Did uncle Ben - did he say anything just now? Of.. That sort?"

"No," Beth said, shaking her head. "Thomas was very shocked to learn - we were all very shocked to learn - that not only did father know about this, but he did nothing to punish Richard."

Charlotte nodded in grim agreement and disapproval equal to Beth's.

"Because I asked him not to," Cilla said. "Beth, he's already been punished! He punishes himself with his self loathing. And then my father punished him - he tried to kill him! And to be honest, I don't know that he hasn't succeeded! He was shot in the stomach, in the leg, half of which he has now lost. He has suffered for his actions, believe me. He has tortured himself and now, he's being tortured with the agony of his wounds, the loss of his leg, the constant fear that his death is still not far off. What more punishment should he endure?"

"What of you?" Charlotte asked. "You were punished for nothing. What he did to you…" Charlotte drew an unsteady breath, eyes closed. "And then to be forced to marry him, forced even more to his bed -"

"No - it wasn't like that," Cilla hastened to explain. "Yes, we were both forced to marry one another. But he did not force me to his bed…" she glanced around to ensure no one else was close enough to hear this private conversation. "It was months before we were intimate. By the time we were, we had grown very close. I'd fallen in love with him - which I know sounds incredible to you but it's the truth all the same - and I was in control the entire time, we did only what I was comfortable doing, which was everything really and…" She trailed off, face flaming hot. "It's not the way you think. My marriage. It was horrid at first, of course it was. For both of us. But we really only had each other and as time went on, the wound between us began to ease. On my part anyway. For him, the pain of what he did to me - the agony and guilt - it grew with each day that he fell in love with me. Gods, can't you understand that?"

The women exchanged looks, it was clear to her that they didn't.

"Beth, couldn't you try?" Cilla asked.

"Cil, I'm sorry," Beth said. "This is just… If you're asking me to try to make some sort of amends with Richard … I can not. No," she shook her head. "I don't think I'll ever…"

"I don't want it to be different between us," Cilla said softly.

"It won't be," Beth reassured her. "You are the dearest person in my life. Between you and I, nothing will change."

Cilla heard what Beth was leaving unsaid - that between her and Richard, nothing would ever be the same.

"It wasn't that bad, just painful," Cilla said now to Richard. "Beth said nothing between us would ever change, but how can that be? She won't forgive you, therefore she'll never be easy in your presence. If I ever see her again, our visits will be few and far between. I'd had hopes of our future, of our children growing up together. They will be so close in birth, just as Beth and I were. But they will likely never know one another. As close as Beth and I are, our children will not know each other and that causes me such distress…" Cilla heaved a sigh. "At least they will know their sister," she said, thinking of Lydia. "Bright side. Silver lining. I need to keep looking for those, or I'll go mad." Cilla's voice broke.

"Come here," Richard said, arms outstretched and beckoning her to lay down with him. Careful of his wounds, she laid down beside him, her head on his chest, his fingers caressing her face and hair as her tears slipped from beneath closed lids.

Ferguson's Plantation:

Benjamin stood shirtless in the middle of the chamber, trying not to shiver from the cold. Behind him, Doctor Jones had his cold ear pressed to Benjamin's back. Benjamin tried not to shiver from that, too.

Could have warmed his ear somehow, Ben thought, gritting his teeth as the doctor pressed his cold ear to another section of Ben's back. Might as well be a lump of ice.

The Doctor was unusually quiet during this latest examination. Apart from giving his usual instructions, such as 'inhale deeply, hold it, exhale slowly', he was devoid of his usual chatter. Benjamin knew the cause, but still, this sullen silence was irksome.

After knocking on the door, Thomas ducked into the chamber. "Rollins is back," he said. "He wants to give his report."

"We'll be finished here soon. Did everyone arrive safe and sound?"

"Yes, sir."

"Did Rollins encounter strife?"

"No, sir. He said they discovered an abandoned camp - likely British. But they had no difficulties there and back."

"Did he give Dawson the letter?"

"You'll have to ask him," Thomas said.

Benjamin nodded. "I'll be down shortly."

Thomas left, and Benjamin found his patience with the Doctor had come to an end.

"Out with it," Benjamin barked. He'd suffered Jones' silence for long enough, it was time to deal with the issue bothering him.

"Out with what?" Jones asked, stubborn like a child.

"Blast you, man," Benjamin snapped, turning to face the other man. "You have been acting like a sullen child ever since Mr. Jutland left. I will tolerate it no longer."

"There is no point discussing it now, is there?" Jones asked. "You did not heed me when I spoke against you sending him away. I doubt you care to hear my opinion now."

"You do not believe I value you," Benjamin said, making a guess based on Jones' words.

"No, you do not value me, or my opinion, or the amount of work that I must do. You sent Jutland off, for no good reason, despite his departure resulting in double the workload for me."

"You do not think I should have sent them away," Benjamin said.

"Bordon, you should have hanged," Jones said.

A dark look entered Benjamin's eyes and Jones immediately knew he'd overstepped.

"I should not question your decisions," Jones said quickly. "Hanged, sent away, it is of no consequence to me. Do as you wish with Bordon, and with the other prisoners - Hamish Jutland and Miller. But sending George Jutland off as well? That has had a direct impact on me, as I warned you it would. I am run off my feet down there, Benjamin!"

"Major Bordon needed Mr. Jutland's expertise in order to stay alive for the journey," Benjamin pointed out.

"Yes, well, I would argue that without Jutland here, far better men than Major Bordon will die. We are hard pressed for medics as it is, and you have sent one of the best away! We may very well lose men as a direct consequence of this decision, and for what? To keep Bordon alive?"

"My niece requested it, Jones. She feared her husband would die on the journey without Jutland's care."

"You sending Jutland away was a very great sacrifice to have made for a man who is in no way worthy of it!"

"I did not make it for Major Bordon," Benjamin said. "I made it for my niece. You've no idea the large debt we owe to her, do you?"

Jones frowned, looking perplexed. Benjamin scoffed with contempt.

"I didn't think so," he snorted. "Allow me to illuminate you. My niece worked tirelessly on our behalf right alongside her parents, in the extremely risky employment of intelligence gathering. After her forced marriage to Bordon, she realised she was in the perfect position to continue the work she and her parents started. As soon as she gained any sort of intelligence - large or small - she met with the spies in Tavington's ranks, putting herself in great danger for our Cause. Only some of the secrets were not so small. Some were life saving, Mr. Jones. Some even changed the tide of our battle - in our favour. So, Mr. Jones, when my niece - who is terrified for her husband's life - comes to me, with such a small request as providing a doctor so that her husband - no matter how ill we think of him - does not die, I find it my duty to indulge her and I consider it small payment indeed toward a much larger debt owed her!"

Benjamin hadn't realised he had begun shouting until the very last moment when he stopped. Swallowing hard, Mr. Jones shrank back away as the Commander's eyes flashed. Benjamin forced himself to calm - difficult to do when he was fielding so many protestations relating to Major Bordon's departure.

In a soft but firm voice, Benjamin continued. "I will not have my commands questioned, Jones. Not by you, nor any other under my command. Relief will be found for you. That will be all."

Jones' silence was no longer sullen, it was chagrined and even fearful as he wordlessly gathered the instruments of his trade and left the chamber.

I wonder what that was about, William thought as he climbed down the stairs. He'd heard Benjamin shouting from the hallway. One of the babies had even started crying. William stifled irritation, he hadn't enjoyed the reminder that Cilla had spied on the Green Dragoons under William's very nose - back at Fresh Water. Because of Cilla, the rebel's success had meant William's failure. Benjamin might be lauding Cilla for her actions, but William found no cause to celebrate them.

William's long legs carried him quickly down the stairs and hallway toward the small chamber that now served as Brownlow's prison cell. It was little more than a cupboard, really. A guard stood outside, he nodded once in acknowledgment and made no protest when William strode inside.

"It's quite ridiculous really, having a guard on me," Brownlow complained when William was seated in the only chair. "Every move is excruciating. My wounds are guard enough, they keep me prisoner far more effectively than some rebel playing soldier."

The rebels - including the rotation of guards on Brownlow's door - were more than than a match for any British soldier, but William kept his opinion to himself. He'd made some strides with Brownlow in the last few days - at least Brownlow was willing to talk to him now. He wasn't about to jeopardise that.

"I have received a response from Lord Cornwallis," William told Brownlow, who began to sit up, his interest piked. His wounds protested immediately, agony flared and with a groan, and Brownlow lay back down.

Shortly after turning coat, William had sent off a rider to Lord Cornwallis' camp, carrying a report to apprise the Lord General of his situation. Mentioning nothing of his defection, William wrote of the capture and decimation of the Green Dragoons. He listed all of those who had been sent to Governor Rutledge's prison camp - including James Wilkins. He wrote in such a way as to lead the General to believe that William himself was confined to that prison camp. William described his wounds, and the more serious wounding of Major Bordon and Captain Brownlow.

"I put forward to Lord Cornwallis that you and Major Bordon be discharged with honours -"

"Honours for Bordon?" Brownlow asked, scowling. "He deserves none."

"As I told you the other day, Cornwallis was aware of Bordon's actions, it was Cornwallis who demanded it be treated with utmost discretion."

"Wouldn't want it getting out that one of his Superior Officers was going around raping ladies," Patrick curled his lip.

"No, the Lord General did not want that," William agreed. "I made Cornwallis aware of the gravity of your wounds and that you and Bordon may not survive them, which still holds true," he continued. "I informed him of my opinion, that even if you do survive, neither of you will be capable of returning to duty. As such, Cornwallis has agreed. He informs me that while your discharge is yet to be ratified by the war office back home -" William stopped short. England was no longer home. It surprised him how cutting that still was. This is your home now, he reminded himself. Feeling Patrick's eyes on him, he amended his words. "Back in England. However, Cornwallis has no doubt that it will be honoured, so much so that he has announced your discharge publicly already. When you return to England, you will do so with honours and you will receive a pension.

"You have no authority to request this of Cornwallis," Patrick pointed out. "You turned, Mr. Tavington."

William heard the subtle slight clearly. Mr. Tavington, not Colonel. He shrugged. "Cornwallis isn't aware of my defection yet. My recommendations still carry weight."

Patrick worked his jaw and glared hard at Tavington. He'll use this for more than gaining my honourable discharge, Patrick thought. He'll use it to disrupt. To confuse. To misdirect. Gods, how much damage can he do to the army before they realise he is no longer one of us? And there wasn't a damned thing Patrick could do about it. He could barely rise without help and only then in great agony and with the threat of doing more damage to his wounded body.

William met Patrick's glare leveley, he was almost able to see Patrick's mind working. Eventually, Patrick pulled his gaze away, his face a mask of stone. The Captain offered no thanks for this single, kind act, for he understood that there would be many unkind acts to follow. Even William was conflicted about it, about using Cornwallis' ignorance against him for as long as William was able. But he'd made his decision, he had turned, and he would not hesitate to use all the weapons he had available.

He doubted Patrick would want to see him again after this.

"Well, you get some rest, I will ensure your victuals are sent along shortly," William said, rising. Brownlow said nothing, his lips were tight with frustration and anger. William opened the door, just as Samuel did from the other side. The young lad looked startled, then he nodded and came in as if invited. As soon as William closed the door behind him, he heard Patrick's voice, angry and excited at once, telling Samuel everything he'd just discussed with William.

Could Brownlow convince Samuel to carry word of my defection to a Loyalist ally? William wondered. Samuel had latched himself to Brownlow almost as soon as William changed sides. Samuel was confused by the ties to his family and to his own Loyalist leanings. Who could possibly predict which way the boy will jump? Martin won't consider the possibility, therefore I must, William decided it would be prudent to keep a watch on Samuel, just in case.

Going in search of Beth now, William passed by the open rear door and saw Watson walking by outside, carrying his belongings.

"Where are you off to?" William called out, stopping Nicholas in his tracks. The younger man began to walk toward him.

"I'm going to stay in the camp with the men," Nicholas said. "So many are coming in by the day, and too many of those require training. We'll be fixed here for a few weeks yet, Colonel Martin wants us to use this time getting these newcomers battle ready."

"What equipment have they bought with them? Not more Flintlocks, I hope."

Nicholas laughed grimly. "I'm afraid a few have. But most are carrying rifles."

"Praise the Lord," William snorted. "What condition are the men in? Do any show promise?"

"Most of them are in fine health, they're strong, able bodied. And yes, most show promise. By that I mean they have good aim, though it's one thing bringing down small game, shooting at other men is quite another. Again, we have weeks yet before we move out. Training is the key. Morning, noon and night."

"Well, good luck. If you need assistance, be sure to send for me."

Nicholas thanked him and turned away to continue his trek to the camp. He was just about to walk back into the house when Electa caught his eye. The black haired beauty was smiling as she approached Nicholas Watson, while carrying what appeared to be a portmanteau. When the pair came together, they linked arms and continued on together.

Training the men isn't the only reason for him to live in the camp, William thought with a knowing chuckle, believing that Nicholas was going there for discretion, as well.

After asking around after Beth, he learned that she had returned to their chamber above. Back up the stairs he went, joining Beth in their small room. She was seated on the side of the bed, looking tired. She glanced at him, her lips tightened, and she looked away. It had been that way for days now, this coldness from her, caused by his failure to inform her of the truth of what Bordon had done to Cilla.

"You will never believe what I just saw," he began, hoping to break the ice with a joke about Nicholas Watson and Electa. When Beth said nothing - he continued as if she'd shown great interest. "Watson. He said he was going to stay in the camp to train the newcomers, however I believe he has an ulterior motive." Still nothing from Beth, not a hint of interest. "However, I saw Electa join him, and arm in arm, they went. It seems to me that Nicholas' motive for staying in camp is to be with Electa, away from the eyes of the ladies."

"You are wrong, William," Beth said, shaking her head. "There is no need for them to hide - Captain Watson married Electa yesterday."

William gave Beth a look of flat disbelief. "You must have been told incorrectly," he said. "I do not think a man of Watson's standing would marry a woman of Electa's," he frowned. "He was a British Officer. And while he might not be that any longer, he is from a good family."

"Which he can never return to, as he has changed sides," she pointed out. "He has forfeited everything and - like Electa - he has nothing. I was not told incorrectly, William. In fact, I was not told of it. I was there for it. Yesterday morning, down by the river, I stood with Electa as she said her vows before Reverend Oliver. Thomas stood with Watson."

"You never told me," he said, unable to hide the hurt from his voice.

"Of course not," she said. "I'm not speaking with you at the moment."

William sighed. He knew that eventually her anger would fade but just then, it was a hot, red, burning thing between them that would only cool with time. There was no point in discussing it further - Beth had already said her piece and she did not accept William's justification; that he had promised Cilla that he would keep what Bordon had done to her a secret.

Any attempt to discuss it now would lead to more arguing. And so he was attempting a new approach - he was trying to pretend that there was nothing wrong between them at all. Perhaps, with him acting like normal, she would start to as well. To that end, he jovially wished Watson and Electa all the best.

"We should give them a wedding gift. What do you suggest?" He asked her. Showing generosity to Beth's former suitor and Beth's doxy turned handmaiden would surely shorten the duration of her anger. Giving her the choice of what to gift should help too. He saw some of her tension lessen as she began to consider the options.

"We have nothing, not here," she said, almost in her normal voice. "I have my clothes and some jewellery. Some cash. We could spare twenty pounds, perhaps. I still have two unaltered skirts that would fit Electa." The women had spent much time unstitching skirts and bodices and shifts and putting them back together as best they could in a larger size to accommodate Beth's growing girth, but there were two that hadn't been altered yet.

William leaned down and gave her cheek a kiss - just a small, fleeting touch, to help reestablish contact between them without going too far. He stepped back quickly, denying her the ability to jerk away if she had had a mind to. "All very good suggestions," he said as he went to stand before the window. He ignored her startled glance and continued to act perfectly normal, as though there was nothing wrong between them.

His side gave a twinge and he decided to play on it by sitting down slowly in the chair by the table. He gave an exaggerated sigh, knowing full well that it would draw concern from her.

It worked.

"Are you alright?" She said. "You've been overdoing it again, you're not entirely healed, the area is still fragile. You risk tearing it open if you're not careful. You must take it slowly, William."

"I know, and I promise you, I have been," he said, flashing her his most winning smile.

Beth frowned and he immediately realised he'd over exaggerated, rousing her suspicion.

"Rollins is back," she said, voice terse. "He told me that they all made it to the Jutland's safely."

"That's good news," William said. "They are close enough that letters can be exchanged easily, especially when the weather improves."

Beth was silent, lost in thought. William waited her out.

"I feel like I understand uncle Mark now," she said, sending a shock through William.

"You do, do you?" He asked, some sharpness entering his voice. "Have you forgotten that he tried to kill me?"

"You tortured him, William," she reminded him, voice firm. "Never forget that."

William tightened his lips.

"And then there's… this… with Richard. What Richard did… you can not say that my uncle attacked either of you without provocation."

"No, I can not," William said after a long moment of silence.

"I was not relieved just now, when Rollins told me they all reached the Jutland's safely. There was one person in their party I had hoped - even prayed - would die along the way," Beth admitted.

"You can't mean that," he said gently. "I have no feeling left for Richard myself, no respect, no inkling of our former friendship. But to wish him dead? You? I can't believe that."

"I just…" Beth drew a ragged breath and bowed her head. "She wants me to forgive him. Or at least to understand why she does. She wants everything to be as it was - as if that was somehow normal. But it was all a lie. She doesn't understand. I just… I love her, I truly do. And after all she's been through, I should be ready to give her the world if she asked it. But the one thing she's asking for," Beth's voice began to break, her throat closing, making it difficult to speak. "I can not give. It can never go back to normal. There never was a normal. It was all lies," she finished, her voice strangled on the words as she began to weep.

"My darling," he said, rising to take a seat beside her on the bed. He pulled her into his arms and held her, stroking her back.

"I feel so guilty," she wept. "She's been through so much and she's asking so little of me. But to pretend nothing is wrong? To look him in the eye, to speak to him, dine with him, jest with him as we did before? As though we're family? I can't do it, William. I just can't. I wish he was dead."

"Oh, Beth," he whispered into her hair as she continued to sob.

"I've abandoned her. When she needed me most -"

"Here," he lifted her from him to cup her face with both his hands. "Beth, you did not abandon her. You are unable to keep up the pretence she desires, but no one can blame you for that. Not even Cilla could expect that of you. But you did not abandon her - if was your father who sent her away. If she'd stayed here, you would not have left her side. You would have been there for her, every moment. You were there for her, Beth. You can not blame yourself for any of this."

Beth shook her head, she was unable to feel the reassurance he was trying to give her. Her breaths were shallow and shaking, tears coursing down her cheeks, wretched with grief and regret.

"She's gone," Beth whispered. "I won't do the one thing she wants, and there're nothing else I can do for her. Nothing."

"I know," he whispered, pulling her back into his arms. "I know."

He held her for sometime, even after her weeping had slowed and then stopped. Still he held her, while she was feeling numb, drained. A knock on the door resulted in Ben walking in, only to stop dead at the sight of his daughter being soothed by his son in on the bed. William gestured him away - indicating that whatever it was Ben wanted, it could wait. Benjamin gave a nod, then closed the door softly behind him.