Three days later.
Colonel Tavington sat in his tent surveying battle tactics. These damn rustics were giving him trouble. He knew something had been amiss at Lady Cora's house but he couldn't think of what it was. That never happened before he had always been able to pinpoint trouble, but she was waging difficulties and it bothered him. There had been a fear about her, he could have smelt it. But fear over what? Her eyes had been a bit too wide, her voice had been too uneasy. She had kept on glancing at that wall by the mantle. When he had walked over there she had seemed nervous. She was hiding something. The only thing that had stopped him before was that fact that her father was a respected General in the British army. His reputation preceded them both and it protected her. Gave her rank. He ran a hand over his face, rubbing his jaw. What was it? What could she possibly be scared of? The guns? No her father was well known for the way he had raised his daughter. It couldn't be that. There had been a strange smell in the house beneath the odor of flowers. Like blood and brandy. Was it that? Was she harboring rebel soldiers? That was the only way to explain it. In his minds eye he saw her and looked her over. Clean, composed more or less, a bit sweaty. Then something came to his attention. Her maid had had a stain on her dress. Not an obvious one, as it had been on the hem but there had been blood. He hadn't paid any attention before but now..now he was paying attention. Lady Cora De Barbarac was harboring rebel soldiers. There was no other logical explanation. It explained the tension, her momentary outburst, her sneaking around at night claiming to have heard a noise, the smell, the blood, and the sweat. She was committing treason, but not for long. Tavington rose to his feet, a sly smile on his face as he walked out side of his tent. "TO arms!" he cried to the cluster to soldiers about him. "There is an issue that has come to my attention which needs rectifying."
Colonel Tavington sat in his tent surveying battle tactics. These damn rustics were giving him trouble. He knew something had been amiss at Lady Cora's house but he couldn't think of what it was. That never happened before he had always been able to pinpoint trouble, but she was waging difficulties and it bothered him. There had been a fear about her, he could have smelt it. But fear over what? Her eyes had been a bit too wide, her voice had been too uneasy. She had kept on glancing at that wall by the mantle. When he had walked over there she had seemed nervous. She was hiding something. The only thing that had stopped him before was that fact that her father was a respected General in the British army. His reputation preceded them both and it protected her. Gave her rank. He ran a hand over his face, rubbing his jaw. What was it? What could she possibly be scared of? The guns? No her father was well known for the way he had raised his daughter. It couldn't be that. There had been a strange smell in the house beneath the odor of flowers. Like blood and brandy. Was it that? Was she harboring rebel soldiers? That was the only way to explain it. In his minds eye he saw her and looked her over. Clean, composed more or less, a bit sweaty. Then something came to his attention. Her maid had had a stain on her dress. Not an obvious one, as it had been on the hem but there had been blood. He hadn't paid any attention before but now..now he was paying attention. Lady Cora De Barbarac was harboring rebel soldiers. There was no other logical explanation. It explained the tension, her momentary outburst, her sneaking around at night claiming to have heard a noise, the smell, the blood, and the sweat. She was committing treason, but not for long. Tavington rose to his feet, a sly smile on his face as he walked out side of his tent. "TO arms!" he cried to the cluster to soldiers about him. "There is an issue that has come to my attention which needs rectifying."