Constancy
By Portia Marlowe
(The infamous) A/N: I present to you my second fanfic ever, and first chaptered one! They're short though. I am a little afraid for this one because there is a fic up already of a similar nature. I'm only putting it up because I've worked so long on it. I swear I was working on this LONG before the other author ever posted hers. (Yeah, I've got nothing better to do than plagiarize…) Any similarities are terrible nasty horrible random coincidences. Besides, our created characters and story line are pretty different (except two things), from what I've read so far. And there is hardly anything as serious as my last fic in here—actually, this is more or less a parody of that gravity. Wilkins lovers be forewarned: I hate him with a burning passion. He IS the evilest character if you think about it more in depth. He's adorable, but oh, I hate him! Um, go ahead and flame/yell at me at your discretion, CLARIFY THE PROGRESSION OF TIME IN THIS FILM, tell me what parts of the movie I screwed up (haven't watched it in forever), etc. If Bordon actually HAS a first name, please tell me. I don't recall one being mentioned, so I made a pretty typical one up. I'm refraining from commenting within my story—Izzy's got me inserting commentary in EVERYTHING ever since her audience participation lines, an idea from Rocky Horror Picture Show, for LOTR. Well, I'm going to shut up now. Love, Portia
South Carolina
1777(ish)
There was something strange about Joseph Carleton, the "new boy," as the other dragoons called him. Upon meeting the stern and impressive Colonel Tavington, the young horseman had been reserved, almost coy, in his responses to any question or statement. However, his eyes were unafraid, something that unsettle the colonel. The new lad stood a good head below Tavington and spoke with a meekness that rendered him wholly unintimidating. No, only the eyes and the taught ferocity caged within them had an unnerving effect on even the most battle hardened.
This recruit was jostled childishly by his fellow members of horse. The small stature of the man and his aura of frailty made him susceptible to any host of tauntings and beatings. Even Wilkins, who was generally sneered at, set upon the young man to make life miserable in exchange for his own insecurities. No reason for the cruelty could be decided; save for his youthful appearance and the fact he rarely spoke. And when he did, his words were as soft and sweet as his face. Only Major Bordon treated him cordially, even spending evenings discussing books with the young man.
Wilkins sauntered into the mess tent one evening after a particularly bad meeting with the colonel. As all bullies do when they are bullied, he swooped upon the easiest target.
"Hey, mute," Wilkins bellowed, demonstrating the extent of his wit. "Why do you get such preferential treatment? We've ne'er seen you cursed and yelled at by the colonel."
Joseph shrugged and quietly continued to take in his supper.
Wilkins glowered at the "new boy." The captain joined a group of dragoons who had actually accepted him and stewed as he waited for a reply. When none was given, he flung a small pebble at Joseph. The young horseman did not flinch.
"Answer me, boy!" the captain bawled, his precious little authority being subverted against. "I asked you somethin' and I want an answer!"
No response. Wilkins began to catcall the recruit, and a few others snickered. Most ignored the boorish captain and went about their business. It was no small wonder that Tavington hated the man—he was an embarrassment to the legion. He bungled his duties and constantly questioned authority. Even the generally mild tempered Major Bordon had muttered: "Our integrity diminishes every time that turn-coat bastard breathes."
"You've got such a priddy face, boy," Wilkins snickered. "Have you been appeasin' the colonel with that girly face?"
The dragoon turned on his assailant furiously. There was little Carleton could do, as the buffoon, sadly, was his superior. He drew his graceful form up to his full height besides Wilkins. They stared into each other's eyes. The captain sneered and slapped Joseph across the rump.
"Does the colonel's trollop work for other clients?"
Joseph blinked, then dealt Wilkins a fierce blow to the jaw with his fist. The captain swayed, cracked his head on a table, and toppled from his seat. Wilkins was unconscious with line of blood trickling from his mouth.
"Funny—I had always thought hot air kept things aloft." The young man shrugged and stepped over his dazed tormenter. Gawking dragoons allowed him a wide berth as he made his way toward the entrance. Bordon blocked his way out, unamused.
"Joseph," sighed Bordon, guiding the horseman out. "You just pulled a prank that will get you into some serious trouble with Colonel Tavington. I must turn you in for assaulting an officer. The colonel may lessen your punishment as you were defending yourself, but—"
"John, I understand," Carleton said softly. "But that captain is such a fool—"
"I know, I know. Come with me." The major started for the colonel's tent. Joseph followed willingly, heart pounding in his throat. He showed no signs on his exterior of being frightened, but he was terrified. Though the word of Captain Wilkins was generally untrustworthy, surely the colonel was some sort of sadist baby-eater….
They made their way to the colonel's tent in the increasing darkness. Both were silent. Bordon's hawkish face was worried and rueful in the glow of various campfires. The major spotted Tavington's tent easily, as it was the only canvas structure illuminated from within by various lamps and candles.
Colonel Tavington was hunkered over his desk, furiously scratching out reports. He squinted in the candle light at the papers, muttering about a variety of peeves. Tavington looked sleep deprived and haunted with his hair coming loose from his scalp-wrenching braid and the soft candle glow illuminating every worn hollow of his face. He peered up irately over his quill and surveyed his two visitors.
"What's this?" he demanded.
"Sir," Bordon said, bowing, "there has been a bit of an incident that requires your judgement."
Tavington sat up in his chair with a sharp intake of breath. He looked coldly at Joseph. "Oh? Proceed with your complaint, Major."
"Well, it's not my complaint, sir—Mr. Carleton here has just assaulted Captain Wilkins. It had to be reported by me, as the captain is unconscious."
"Is that all?" Tavington smirked. "What for, if I may be so bold, Mr. Carleton?"
Joseph gathered himself superbly and faced the colonel levelly. "Sir, I was merely defending myself. I should not have been so rash as to strike the captain, but at the moment, and in my temper, I thought it was a sound reason—"
"From what were you defending yourself?" the colonel smiled slightly. He appeared highly interested in Carleton's story.
"Sir, there are several who seem to take pleasure in taunting me," he replied with a slight smile, and added, "because I appear somewhat effeminate. Captain Wilkins began to bully me in front of everyone and threw rocks at me. He continued to tease me and even began to slander you somewhat."
"In what manner?"
"He said I was your whore, sir." Bordon stifled a giggle into his palm. The colonel shot him a glance, completely displeased. Bordon nodded gravely in concession and straightened with a snort. His eyes returned their focus on the narrator.
Tavington colored a moment in ire then recomposed himself. "Continue, Mr. Carleton."
"Well, sir, he then slapped me across the buttocks and propositioned me. It was then I punched him. So, sir, there is my story, perfectly related. Entirely true." Joseph studied his commander's rigid face in earnest. Their unrelenting eyes met and for a moment, Tavington cringed.
"Everything I saw was exactly as he described," Bordon contributed.
The colonel paused a moment to think. He closed his eyes and hummed a little as he imbibed and considered what the recruit had said. It did not appear as if the young man was lying, and after all, it was only Wilkins. If anything, Tavington ought to congratulate the whippy little dragoon shifting nervously before him. It was now a question of who bothered him more. The colonel's eyes snapped open, having arrived at his decision.
"Mr. Carleton, as you have an officer, I must pass punishment on you. Be thankful—had you launched yourself at Major Bordon," he nodded in the direction of the officer, "I would likely have you flogged. But, having my reasons, I will only assign you to emptying chamber pots in the hospital for a week."
Joseph bowed low in great courtesy. "Thank you, sir."
"You may leave now." Tavington waved them away, returning to his reports. Bordon retreated from the tent.
However, Joseph remained, frowning. "You never write me anymore."
Tavington snapped to attention. "I beg your pardon, Mr. Carleton?" His eyes narrowed quizzically at the young man pouting at him. Carleton leaned against the desk and pulled a letter written in an eccentric looking hand that was barely discernible as feminine from under a candle. He flicked a few wax drippings from the paper and sighed.
"You know it is dangerous to keep paper under fire like that." He replaced the candle. "Have you become so asocial as to forget family, William?"
"Your face is familiar, but I do not recall us—"
"William, are you that thickheaded?" the young man said in disbelief.
Tavington's face paled as he scrutinized the soft visage of Joseph Carleton. "Edward? Brother, you've certainly changed—and the false name?"
"Lummox! It's me!" Joseph cried, shaking loose his hair. The colonel nearly fainted as he got to his feet. Standing before him with a subversive smile was a handsome young woman of twenty-six. Her auburn hair framed her face, adding an even more wild light to her green and ash-grey eyes. The high, delicate cheekbones inherited from her mother were illuminated with a laughing blush.
"Constance Tavington!" Her brother beheld his baby sister, pleased to see her. No questions were asked as he threw his arms about her waist and kissed her. "Oh, little sister! How good it is to see you!"
She was not so enthused. "You have not written me in years! I will not take excuses, William."
"I've been busy," he replied, still smiling.
"The exciting events of the past few days have proved it," Constance said dryly.
"Well, I, ah—what in hell are you doing here?" he was suddenly serious, remembering his duties as an older brother. "You should be swamped with children and certainly not here!"
"That's what you think." Constance rebound her hair with the pursed lipped expression characteristic of their family. "Had I a husband."
Next chapter: The misadventures that befell Constance in her quest to
perform her feminine duties (i.e., marrying and having children), and the
shaming of the family.