Disclaimer: I still don't own The Patriot
CHAPTER TWO: Femina CarolinaeTavington decided another cup of tea in the Wildes' pleasant library was in order. Within a few minutes, Miss Wilde had returned and had commandeered Wilkins' strong back to carry down trunks from the attic.
Amused at Wilkins' indignation, Tavington had declared, "Very proper, Captain, to render your cousin all the assistance in your power." He had felt a little alarmed at Miss Wilde's speculative look, as if she were contemplating what task she might dare to assign him.
Now, with the library to himself, and no reason not to indulge in the luxury of stretching out full-length on the comfortable sofa, he wondered if he had been excessively influenced by a pretty face, or indeed, two pretty faces. He smiled to himself, thinking of the entertaining little Julia. He must get her aside and hear the full story of the rebels' visit, rendered in her amusingly naïve style. Her reserved older sister seemed unwilling to divulge many details. He wondered again if the rebels had gone farther with her than she would admit. Not that it could be in any way her fault. Still, his instincts told him that more had happened than he had been told.
He had surprised himself at his unguardedness in mentioning the loss of his own home. Years ago, of course, but somehow today's events brought it all back: the frantic packing, his mother's anguished indecision as to what to leave and what to take, his own bewilderment. Unwillingly, he wondered if he did get a shameful satisfaction out of seeing others suffer as he had. Firmly thrusting the idea aside, he took the last piece of cake, and savoured it slowly.
Rising lazily, he decided to take pity on Wilkins. He went over to the window and called out to Lovins and Baird to assist Captain Wilkins and Miss Wilde upstairs. Feeling he had done his duty, he strolled back over to the folio album. Surely she would want to take this. Involuntarily, he found himself drawn to the bookcases, considering what he would want to keep in her situation.
He heard the dragoons' heavy tread ascending the staircase. He felt himself well out of it. Turning back to the books, he took in the expected number of books on natural history and philosophy. There was also an impressive collection of literature, ancient and modern, a great deal of poetry, and not a few collections of letters. Two full rows of legal tomes, he noted, and some well-bound novels. An obviously much-loved copy of Dr. Johnson's dictionary.
Miss Wilde walked into the room, Baird behind her. He carried a moderately large wooden crate and she, a quilt.
"Excuse me, Colonel," said Miss Wilde briskly. "I need to pack up what I can of our library." She paused before the shelves, and looked from them to the crate, obviously wondering how to make the contents of one fit into the other. It was plainly not going to happen. She sighed, and turned to Baird. "Please, Mr. Baird, wrap up the large book on that table in this quilt. Very carefully, I pray you. The book was my father's and very precious to us."
Baird busied himself with spreading the quilt on the floor and wrapping up the volume. Miss Wilde came to stand beside Tavington, pensively regarding the bookcases. She bit her lip, and then turned to speak to Baird.
"When you are done, please take it and that large black portfolio out to the carriage house. Just leave it beside the wagon, and I'll decide how to pack it all later. " She turned again to the bookcase. "One hardly knows where to begin," she murmured, half to herself.
Tavington pulled out the copy of the Dictionary. "I would advise you to take what you like best, not what you think you ought to bring."
"Very wise of you, Colonel. I certainly wasn't planning on transporting the family law library. Or Archbishop Tillotson's Sermons." She began to quickly sort through the books, laying some on the floor by the crate.
"I'm shocked," Tavington said primly. "Shocked. What about Fox's Book of Martyrs?"
"A good thought. Julia adores the gruesome bits." She placed the volume on the growing stack and then began sorting through the novels. "Pamela, Tristram Shandy, the Vicar of Wakefield, Rasselas…."
"You're leaving Clarissa?" asked Tavington, eyebrows raised.
"With pleasure. I loathe that book."
Tavington smirked.
"Well, I do," she huffed, placing another few books on the stack. "Clarissa Harlowe is the stupidest women in English literature. She runs away with a man whom she knows to be wicked, and then is terribly surprised when he behaves wickedly. What a fool."
Tavington could not resist. "Miss Wilde, you don't know me at all, and yet you will be travelling with me in less than two hours. What would the literati say of you?"
She glared at him. "Apples and oranges, Colonel. Would you be so good as to hand me the Dryden and the Spenser on the top shelf? I am travelling with you as you represent the King's authority under this roof. Are you unworthy of his trust?" She laid the books down, and then sat on the floor by the crate, tentatively beginning to arrange the volumes in the most compact way. "And I think I could manage Mr. Gray as well. To your left. Thank you."
"The paths of glory lead but to the grave, Miss Wilde?"
"All paths lead to the grave, Colonel."
"Yes, I believe that was Gray's point."
"Actually, my thoughts were more in the vein of Where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise."
Tavington smiled, and looked over the shelves. "Surely you don't mean to leave this behind," he said, displaying the cover of Sidney's Arcadia.
She looked up at him, hurt, and Tavington felt a little ashamed. "You are unkind, sir. Do not forget to wave Paradise Lost in front of me as well. But you are right, of course." She reached up for the Sidney.
"And Mr. Milton is the red morocco further down. Yes, that's it. It is a very fine edition. And Mr. Pope's Iliad." She smiled fondly.
Working together, they quickly filled the crate. Miss Wilde rose and looked unhappily at the remaining books. "You know, Colonel, if you or your officers see anything here you care for, I would much rather you all had them, than my treacherous neighbors and their new best friends."
"That is most generous."
"Not at all."
Baird had come back, and Miss Wilde directed him to take the crate out to the carriage house. He looked askance at it, and went for help. When he had gone, Miss Wilde turned again to Tavington.
"My cousin James is helping Julia pack her toys and books from the nursery. I thought that would suit him better than this. I also asked him to collect my father's weapons. He owned a very beautiful set of pistols I must show you when we are at leisure."
He accompanied her into the hall, and was surprised to see a young boy leaning wearily against the wall. No one had said anything about a boy living here. He looked again, and saw it was not a boy, but a pretty young girl of thirteen or fourteen, dressed in a boy's shabby breeches, shirt, and waistcoat. Obviously, the sister he had not yet met, by her dark eyes, though these were accompanied by light brown hair, rather than dark.
Miss Wilde introduced them. "Colonel, my sister, Amelia Wilde. Melly, this is Colonel Tavington of the Green Dragoons." She gave Tavington a hard look, daring him to say anything about her sister's appearance. He bowed to the girl, and she gave a curtsey, at odds with her costume. She murmured an unintelligible greeting, her eyes averted from him.
Amelia whispered to her sister, "I've packed all the food that's left. What do you want to do about the wine and spirits?" Lovins, passing through the hall with a heavy load, looked hopefully at his Colonel. Tavington cleared his throat.
"I would advise you, Miss Wilde, to take a few bottles along for medicinal purposes." He smiled, "Perhaps you would not begrudge my officers and men the rest."
He received a knowing look in reply. Miss Wilde turned to her sister. "There is a crate in the dining room. Pack the silver candlesticks, and gather Mother's tea set and wipe it. The officers were using it in the library. Bring the silver chest as well--and the box of candles. We won't have room for anything else. Then," she said, touching her sister's shoulder gently, "you must pack your trunk. Please be sensible. And help Julia with hers. I'll be up to look at them shortly."
She gave Tavington a crooked smile. "To the cellar, then, Colonel?" He followed and stopped behind her as she looked into the front parlor. He gestured at a fine grand pianoforte.
"I imagine you'll be sorry to leave that."
"We won't be entirely bereft musically. There is a small square instrument in the nursery I asked Cousin James to have loaded. The legs unbolt, so it should fit in the wagon quite well. I'll put the music we're taking in Julia's trunk. She'll have the most room."
Tavington noticed a very beautiful portrait above the mantel. He approached to look at it more closely. From the previous sketch, he gathered it was Mrs. Wilde. She was depicted before an exotic background of native plants and animals. He had never seen a portrait like it. The woman seemed as much a part of the natural world as everything else in the picture.
"Your father painted this, I presume? It is very much in his style."
Miss Wilde actually laughed. "Indeed it is. We told him he should submit it along with his other pictures for the next volume, and name it Femina Carolinae. You know my father's work, then?"
"I first saw his book in London—years ago, now. A friend owned it and had it open at the drawing of the live oak. It is a very powerful picture: ancient, garlanded with moss, unlike any tree I had ever seen. It represented all the lure of distant lands to me."
"Is that why you are in Carolina?"
"Madam, I am in Carolina to serve the King. It's an ugly business, doing one's duty, but just occasionally, it's a real pleasure."
They smiled at each other for a long moment, and Miss Wilde blushed and dropped her eyes.
"Of course I must keep it. When we are finished in the cellar, I'll tell one of your men to take it down and wrap it."
They proceeded on to the kitchen, and downstairs to the cellar. Tavington was impressed.
"A great deal of this was put down before I was born," Miss Wilde told him. "As you see, there is far more than we can dream of taking." She picked up a crate and began filling it. A good brandy, a few bottles of very good claret, some port, and—
"Rum, Miss Wilde?"
"It's very good for cleaning wounds. Which reminds me that I mustn't forget the medicine chest. There, that's all, I think." She started to lift the crate, but Tavington forestalled her, and carried it upstairs for her.
"Thank you. I'll tell one of your men to take it out. Please make free with the rest. I really must change and see to my trunk." She hastened away with a rustle of silk, and Tavington returned downstairs to contemplate his find. He pulled out a brandy and a claret for himself and decided to turn the rest over to Sergeant Cameron, after the officers had a chance at it.
Once upstairs, he came down the hall to see Lovins and Baird with the body of a small pianoforte between them, and Wilkins following them, carrying the legs. Julia hopped down the stairs after them, and then seeing Tavington, skipped over to him.
"Hello, Miss Julia. Have you already finished packing?"
"Well, I'm done, but my packing isn't. Melly said I was doing it wrong. Then Lilabet came upstairs and told Melly she was doing hers wrong. It is a little tense up there now, so I thought I'd come downstairs and help you."
"Thank you. I was just going to the library to choose some books. You could help me carry them out to my horse."
In the library, ostensibly studying the books, Tavington considered how best to approach the child for information.
"Has your sister Amelia always worn boy's clothes?"
"Doesn't she look peculiar? No, only since last Friday. That was the day after the dirty rebels came. She says she doesn't want to be a girl anymore. She put on some of Richard's old clothes, and now Lilabet can't get her to change."
"It must have been a terrible time for all of you. Did something particularly shocking happen to Miss Amelia?"
"Shocking? I guess I'd say that. Those men, those dirty men came riding up to our house, and I knew right away that it was different than anybody else ever coming here. Some of them were the sort of men who always came to the back door before to ask for things. But now they acted like they owned everything. They had chains with them, and started shackling all the slaves. I wanted to run and hide with Keziah (she's my friend), but Lilabet said it would be worse if we hid and they found us. And they did find Keziah under her cabin, and they dragged her out, and I think they hurt her arm."
Julia fidgeted in her chair. "And so there we were, all three of us, standing on the front porch, and those men were running around and grabbing slaves and driving off the horses and cattle. It was confusing. And this man who was leading them came up on the porch to talk to Lilabet, but I could see that she didn't matter to him. And then he saw me, and knelt down and held my shoulders and told me not to be scared, like he was my friend." At this, Julia made such a face that Tavington couldn't help laughing.
Julia scowled at him. "Well, I'm not stupid, you know. I may be ten, but I'm not stupid." She kicked her legs back against the chair. "Not stupid," she repeated.
Tavington came over and gently laid his hand on the curly dark hair. "I can see you are not. What then?"
Julia jumped up and pulled him over to the sofa with her. She lowered her voice to a whisper. "Some men came up and started talking about Lilabet and how pretty she was, and they started touching her. And then that Charles Crawford ran over and put his arm around her, and told them to stay away because she was promised to him. I thought Lilabet would slap him, but she didn't. She was really quiet. And then one man came up to Melly and asked 'And how about you, Missy? You promised to someone?' And Lilabet cried, 'She's only fourteen!' and tried to go to Melly, but Charles Crawford held on to her. And that horrible man said, 'Old enough,' and he grabbed Melly and kissed her right on the mouth."
Julia huddled against Tavington's shoulder, and to his own surprise, he put a comforting arm around her.
"And then I guess Melly bit him, because he yelled and shoved her away, and then he hit her with his fist so hard, he knocked her off the porch." Julia looked up at him, tears glistening on her lashes. "Lilabet got away from Charles Crawford, and we ran over to Melly and held her where she lay on the ground. And then that rebel Colonel made the men get back and leave us alone. Charles Crawford stood there beside us, but Lilabet wouldn't look at him. We heard them talking back and forth about whether to burn the house or not, but then they decided that if you British went away, it would be nice to have the house to give to someone you'd burned out. And Charles Crawford asked them not to loot the house yet, because he and Lilabet were going to get married and he wanted time to pick out what to keep, and they could have the rest then. And it looked he and that rebel Colonel were real good friends, so they said maybe they'd let us stay if Charles Crawford married Lilabet. So they decided just to take the slaves and livestock and share them out. They got on their horses and Charles Crawford looked back at Lilabet and she said, 'Be sure to get your share of the loot. I know your family will be proud to have stolen things.' And then he was riding away with them, and she took off his ring and threw it at him, and she yelled at him, 'And don't forget this, traitor!'"
They sat together for a little while, and Tavington drew a deep breath. "I am very sorry this happened to you—to all of you. But you are safe now. You will come away with us to Fort Carolina, and no one will dare bother you there." Julia looked up at him. He took out his handkerchief and wiped her face. "I will protect you. You have my word of honour as an officer."
"You know what, Colonel? We found that engagement ring the next day, and the next time we go to Charlestown, Lilabet is going to sell it, and we will all buy something we really like with the money!"
He smiled and kissed the top of her head. "What an excellent notion." He rose and offered her his hand. "And now you must help me finish choosing my books!"
In the end, he found some wonderful things. The Misses Wilde, he decided, read French but not Latin, because the untranslated classics were untouched. He found a Georgics, a beautiful Catullus, and smiled slyly as he pulled out a rare copy of Petronius' Satyricon. He much doubted that the innocent young ladies had a clue what that was. He decided he could fit one more volume, and opted for a collection of Marlowe's plays.
Stacking the books in Julia's willing arms, and picking up his bottles, he strolled out into the sun. He saw dark smoke rising to the east, and smiled grimly. The patrol was not yet returned, so he took his time inspecting the state of the remaining dragoons. Julia was entranced with everything and full of artless questions. He decided not to mention the cellar and library to anyone until Bordon was back, and could have first choice.
Miss Wilde came out of the house, dressed in a black riding habit appropriate for travelling. She looked more than a little irritated as she stalked to the carriage house, talking in a agitated manner to Wilkins. Tavington eased out of sight behind a horse, and saw that Julia had done the same. They both laughed.
"Lilabet really is very nice, but she gets cross sometimes since Mamma died. Even when Mamma had to stay in bed all day, she could still help Lilabet and tell her how things were done, and talk to her. I think Lilabet misses her. I know I do. She was lovely." Julia stoked the horse's soft muzzle and looked up at Tavington. "Do you still have your mother?"
"No, Miss Julia, my mother died many years ago, but I still think about her." He heard the sound of horses approaching. "That should be the patrol returning. Off you go now. See if you can help your sister in the carriage house."
Julia trotted away obediently, and Tavington looked for Bordon at the head of the dragoons. A glance told him that the raid had been a success, by the large number of horses tethered behind. Some very fine mounts were among them, he noted appreciatively; but he did not see Miss Wilde's grey mare.
Bordon reined in and dismounted.
"Good hunting, I take it, Captain?"
"Indeed, sir. The overseer did not dare offer resistance. The slaves were somewhat bewildered, but I directed them to take the Camden road, where they can be sure of safety. Some of them wanted to follow us back here, but I explained that the Wildes were leaving and that we would catch them up anyway. We'll undoubtedly come across them when we finish here and head home. Otherwise, such a large party of slaves would be a prize for the locals."
"Very well. Breathe and water your mounts. You have forty-five minutes to get some rest. Have Sergeant Davies take a team of horses to the carriage house, where Miss Wilde is loading the wagon." Bordon bowed, and turned away to obey. "Oh—and Bordon?"
"Sir?"
"Miss Wilde has permitted us to take what we wish of her library and cellar. I advise you and the other officers to avail yourself immediately. When you are finished, have Sergeant Cameron distribute the rest to the men. With strict orders not to touch it until we have returned to the fort, you understand?"
Bordon smiled, "Indeed, sir."