(Don't read this part, me being mean/vulgar again) A/N: Oh, Izzy, you are lucky I love you sooo much…. Here's chapter eleven while I thumb my nose at you…and your freakin' uterus.
Constance was incredibly bored. William had been ranging about for nearly two days. Reading lost its sparkle after a marathon session with the book her brother had flung at the other night. She wandered around camp, but there was no one to talk to. There was no one she had to write, her brother had not hinted that he needed laundry done, and there was no way she was going to neaten up his quarters. Absolutely nothing to do!
On a whim, she visited Roxelana, her horse, to braid her mane. The mare whickered and nuzzled her mistress, pleading for some form of snack as Constance wove powder blue and yellow ribbons into the horse's mane. Constance was pleased with herself, and smiled brightly when finished.
"There, Rox, now we match!" She indicated her pale blue bodice and skirt with dim vertical yellow stripes. The horse stared at her, uncaring, then lipped at Constance's sleeve.
"I think we shall go for a visit, Rox. Will is probably at the fort, so why not go bother him?" It was a silly idea, raising her brother's ire by randomly appearing at the fort, but at least it would be something to quell the boredom. Constance returned to her brother's tent and grabbed her hat.
Roxelana skittered away when she saw Constance returning with tack. The woman dropped the equipment with a sigh, clamped a hand on top of her hat to keep it down, and chased her horse around the paddock to no avail. She sat down in a huff and the mare mockingly pranced back with a whinny.
"You are such a brat!"
The mare was the epitome of docility as Constance slipped on her bridle, and the horse munched on daisies while she was saddled. She stretched out her neck and whinnied as Constance climbed into the saddle. The woman adjusted herself in the sidesaddle and nudged Roxelana with her heel. Horse and rider cantered off to go find Will.
They charged through a meadow, Roxelana bounding through the long grass and dandelions with a pretentious high step. When they came upon the beaten cart path winding up to the fort, the horse continued her lofty gait and kicked up an impressive cloud of dust in her wake.
The swirl of dirt from Roxelana drew the attention of the sentries on the wall. They peered down at the little rider approaching and laughed. When the visitor halted at the gate, they heard Constance coughing from the dust as she shook out the dirty hems of her skirt, along with a "Gah, Roxelana—you are still a spoiled little brat!"
"Who goes there?" a sentry cried down at her with a grin on his face,
"Miss Constance Tavington, sister of Colonel William Tavington of the Green Dragoons, sir," she responded with another cough. "Ah, forgive me, the road's a bit dusty and it's bothering my breathing. Have you seen my brother here yet?"
The sentry gave a signal and the gates opened, but he did not respond to her query. Constance nodded her thanks and trotted Roxelana through the gate. She dismounted and led her horse around, searching for her brother. If there was any doubt that she was the dragoon colonel's sister, it was dispelled by their astonishingly similar eyes. A soldier took Roxelana and held the reins.
Constance halted in the middle of the courtyard and wrinkled her brow as several soldiers were laughing and testing the trap doors of a gallows. Then she saw a makeshift wooden cage containing roughly twenty grubby men, from whence came a variety of hoots and catcalls. Constance meandered over, removing her hat and holding it behind her back.
"Lovely day, eh, gentlemen?" she snickered. "What are you all doing here?"
"Wondering jus' that, dolly," one of them said, leering at her. Surprisingly, the grungiest and most vulgar looking of them whacked the man and drawled:
"Ma'am, we're stuck here 'cause that damned dragoon feller caught us wi' our pants down."
Constance winced. "That, sir, was not a colloquialism I cared to imagine."
There was priest amongst them who snickered a little and nodded in agreement. "John, this is obviously a lady of distinction. Do try to speak with a little more class. Think of your own wife."
She smiled warmly. "I dare say your wife would not wish to hear that sort of description from a stranger. Well said, reverend."
"Who might you be, ma'am, and what lucky officer's got you?" the prisoner, John, asked with a quirky chuckle.
"Ha! That's a good one," Constance laughed, tucking back a loose wisp of her red hair. "I happily belong to no one, sir. I am only here looking for my brother. I cannot wait to see his face! He will get so flustered trying to hold in his rage that he looks like he'll fairly explode!" She giggled imagining Will's face. "I believe you are all acquainted with my brother."
"That stuffy lil' general whatsisname?"
"O'Hara?" the priest offered.
She shook her head. "The colonel. William Tavington." They collectively shrank back from her, and did not dare utter another word. She regarded the prisoners quizzically with a chuckle.
"Odd fellows you are. My brother is the loony one, not me."
"But, Miss, you are his sister! He may do worse than have us hanged if he learns what John said to you," the priest cried. "We'd do well to just be quiet."
The woman waved his words away. "I get worse in camp, believe you me. I am not so vindictive as my brother. If so, Captain Wilkins would no longer be a man."
"Mr. Wilkins?" The preacher was astonished. "Surely you jest. Mr. Wilkins is a good honest man and would never think of straying from his wife. You must be lying."
Constance smiled and nodded to him. "Sir, all men are not pillars of morality and celibacy, just as not all Tavingtons are sociopaths." She waited to see if they had picked up on her barb. Finally, she said: "Very well, I am looking for my brother. I will be on my way now."
"It was a pleasure chattin' wi' you, ma'am," John said humbly. The eyes of the prisoner's followed her as she walked towards the gallows to ask the soldiers there about her brother. John looked distraught and asked the priest to write a letter to his wife. But first, they prayed.
Constance learned her brother was no where to be found and went to reclaim Roxelana. She mounted and turned for the gate. Just then a man bearing a white handkerchief tied to a stick rode in, followed by two massive dogs. She studied this new comer with interest as he dismounted and addressed a soldier. This man was obviously of some standing, likely with the rebel militia. His expression was worn and dull as his eyes flicked to the prisoners. He was strong from years behind the plow and was generally unimpressive except for a pair of shocking blue-grey eyes that lighted on her for a moment before focusing on the approaching General O'Hara. The man was directed inside, no doubt to parlay with General Cornwallis for the prisoners. The two dogs trotted obediently after him, tails waving.
She began to wonder and hesitated there a moment in thought. Could this be the man causing her brother so many problems? She doubted it, but you never could tell with these southerners. Constance tapped Roxelana and went through the gate at a walk. She did not get far before her brother and Captain Bordon galloped up.
"What in Hell?" William cried, reining up sharply. "What are you doing here? I told you to stay at camp!" His mount caracoled about her, and he was obviously in a hurry.
"I had nothing else to do, brother! You didn't even leave me linens to wash! God knows when the last time you had on a decent smelling shirt was…."
Bordon snickered. Tavington was not amused.
"I was only looking for you, William. I got worried, and I thought it would be best to check the fort. That's all. I wasn't hunting rednecks on my own. Believe it or not, I do listen."
"To an extent," he replied dryly. "Come with us then. You can bat your eyelashes at O'Hara and probably get a tour of the house and supper to keep you occupied."
She sneered. I will decline, thank you. I will see you back at camp later."
Bordon glanced at her a little bashfully. He did not exactly smell like a dandy rose at that moment. Constance smiled at him and he ventured to return it. She immediately began to wonder about this man—had he not just grabbed her and kissed her the other day? Why was he acting so coy now? It had to be because of her brother. The captain nodded to her in a reserved fashion before they galloped away.
Constance continued down the path at an easy walk. Roxelana flicked her tail and chomped her bit, as if displeased with the slow pace. The woman began to whistle but immediately stopped when another group of riders met her. A young man in a grey coat lifted his hat and addressed her:
"Ma'am, has a man in black with two dogs come this way?"
Constance nodded. "Perhaps five, ten minutes ago, inside the fort."
"Thank you." The boy kicked into his horse charged with his followers to the fort.
She was disgusted. "See how damn interesting everything is once we leave the camp, Rox? I've talked to half the rebel militia and had them ogle me, all in a half-hour! We ought to get out more often—maybe I can be recognized as some rich fellow's long lost sister and learn that I really don't have such a mean, boring older brother."
Roxelana was, of course, indifferent. They rode on, enjoying the scenery and the fair weather. And soon, the same riders—plus the man from the fort, the two dogs, and the prisoners—returned. The man in the black coat halted them and rode alongside Constance. He nodded politely to her. She was amused.
"My men have told me of your kindness, Miss Tavington," he said with a dry smile. "You must be the sane one of your family."
"I assure you we are all sane, sir, only my brother is a little…focused."
The man sneered. "And unrelenting. He is not fit to command."
Constance shook her head. "He is a bit domineering, but he is well organized. He cannot stand to fail, sir, and does his best to prevent it. My brother is a good man when not cynical and when his plans and ideals are not threatened."
"Apparently little boys impose upon his grand scheme?" the man asked bitterly.
"I know not what you mean, sir." She looked at him, the perfect picture of naivete.
His blue eyes fixed on her. "If only your brother was as innocent as you are, Miss. I pray you remain that way so my quarrel does not come to you. Good day." He heeled into his horse and galloped off with the rest.
Constance halted and allowed them to put a fair distance between them. She quaked with a venomous rage. So that was him, the Ghost. The man who had just threatened her. It was no small wonder her brother wanted to gut him, and now she wished to do the same. She followed their path with her eyes, thinking it may be of use to her brother.
Next chapter: Wilkins goes after Constance and gets in
trouble…with his wife. (*minor chord*)