Disclaimer: I don't own The Patriot. Not at all. Ever.
Author's note: Thank you to all my reviewers. I very much appreciate your support.CHAPTER SEVEN: Tea with Vinegar
That Saturday, Tavington found that his regimental duties were well enough in hand to allow him some leisure. His promise to call on the Misses Wilde gnawed at him. By now, they had surely forgotten about the invitation, and pursuing the acquaintance might seem presumptuous on his part. The memories of their adventures together gave him great pleasure. Rather than spoil them by a visit that would reveal the ladies had no further interest in him, he would prefer that they never met again.
Still, he had promised them a visit, and did not want them to imagine that his word was worthless. He would go, and if they were not receiving, he would leave his card and consider his duty done.
Wilkins had accompanied them into the town, per his orders, and had reported back that the ladies were safely settled at the home of their mutual great-aunt, Miss Everleigh. Apparently the house already was filled to bursting with women and children, but with some rearrangement, a room had been made available for the three girls to share. The captain had said little else, and seemed rather subdued, but his expression made clear that he infinitely preferred a cot in a regimental tent to any bed under his aunt's roof.
Now, presenting himself at the door of the respectable red brick house, Tavington hid his anxiety behind a mask of supercilious calm and full regimental regalia. The elderly slave--Uncle Ganymede, was it?--took his name and tottered away, telling him he would see if the ladies were at home. Tavington looked about the entrance hall, rather old-fashioned but speaking of comfortable circumstances. There was a curious odour in the house, and he remembered Julia's remarks. The smell combined dust, the sweetness of rosewood furniture, the unique aroma of Southern cookery, and the sour scent of incontinent old age. He could hear women's voices from the back of the house, and footsteps overhead.
There was a loud thumping noise upstairs, and the sound of children quarrelling. Other voices came from upstairs, among them Miss Wilde's, coming down the hall.
"Did you show him into the parlour?"
"No, Miss 'Lizbeth. I didn't know if he was a gentleman you wanted to see."
"Never mind. I'll show him in myself." He heard the rustle of silk petticoats, and then she had turned the curve of the staircase and was standing at the top of the stairs, smiling down at him.
"Colonel Tavington! How very, very kind of you to call on us! Melly and Julia will be so happy. They'll join us in a moment. Please, please, come into the parlour." She led him into a rather fussy reception room, upholstered with a great deal of rose brocade, and decorated with a great deal of---fringe. Everything appeared to have fringe on it: the chairs, the mantelpiece, the cushions, the numerous embroidered footstools, the draperies, the Indian shawl covering the pianoforte. Fringe in a variety of colours, lengths, and designs. The effect was rather bizarre, and it was all he could do not to stare. It reminded him rather of hanging moss on the live oaks, but was neither so natural, nor so appealing.
Seated on the sofa opposite him, Miss Wilde had a glow about her that suggested, he supposed, her happiness at finding a safe haven with her kinswoman. She was dressed in the same black silk gown and lace cap he remembered, and appeared the same pale but pretty woman he had first met at Arcadia. Was it really just five days ago?
She looked past him toward the hall door. "Uncle Ganymede, tell Hetty we'll have tea now. Miss Amelia and Miss Julia will be joining us."
Tavington heard the old man muttering darkly as he walked away.
Miss Wilde said ruefully, "It has been a great shock to the servants, having this house filled to the brim with my aunt's relations. They're more accustomed to long, silent days with only her to tend to. Thank heavens that my Cousin Charlotte at least brought her children's nursemaid along."
Eager footsteps clattered downstairs, and Julia dashed into the room, with Amelia close behind her. Miss Wilde gave them an expressive look, and they restrained themselves enough to curtsey nicely to him. He answered with his most gallant bow. Julia ran over to plump herself down on the sofa next to him, and Amelia shyly seated herself by her older sister. Tavington looked again. Amelia was clothed in a blue print gown, her shining brown hair loose on her shoulders. He sensed that she would not appreciate any attention paid to her new costume, and merely told them how glad he was to see them all well and safe.
"We're so glad to see you!" cried irrepressible Julia. "We thought you'd forgotten all about us! You probably rescue people every day!" She impulsively patted his hand. "George Montgomery said we made the whole story up about knowing you. Now he'll see!"
Amelia took a deep breath and made herself speak with blushing effort. "It is so fortunate, Colonel, that you call today, when we are not in school. We are most happy to see you, indeed." She gave him a little smile, like a pressed flower, and then looked away, her courage spent.
"School?" He looked at Miss Wilde, questioningly. "It is July. What school would be open now?"
"My school, not to put too fine a point upon it," answered Miss Wilde.
Tavington raised his brows.
Julia scowled. "It's all because Aunt Sarah Jane Minerva found out the Montgomerys are illiterate savages."
"Julia!" said Miss Wilde sharply. "Don't abuse your relations."
"They abuse us! George Montgomery is a big bully!"
"Stop." Miss Wilde said, soft and fierce. She composed herself and told Tavington calmly, "With all the children in the house, my aunt was quite at a loss. My cousin Charlotte is thoroughly engrossed with her three youngest, and it can surely do no harm to the three others to have something worthwhile to occupy their time. Besides," she looked archly at Julia, "it's not as if I haven't had years of experience teaching children."
"Lilabet is a wonderful teacher," said Amelia, and ducked her head again.
Julia took up the tale. "And so the five of us study with Lilabet in the dining parlour every morning from nine until noon, and then we girls work on sewing and Lilabet gives us lessons on the pianoforte from one until four o'clock. George Montgomery just runs wild in the afternoon."
"He does nothing of the sort, Julia. George has different tasks in the afternoon, but they are still educational."
Tavington was sincerely impressed. "I think your pupils very fortunate, Miss Wilde. It certainly sounds more pleasant than any school I ever attended."
"Lilabet is the only one of us who ever went away to school," Julia informed him. "But that was before I was born."
"Did not your brother attend school?" asked Tavington.
Miss Wilde's lips tightened, and she looked back at Tavington without expression. "No, Colonel. Richard and Tom were taught at home by my father." Seeing his question, she added, "There were once many more of us. Richard was the next youngest after me, then Tom, then Mary, and then Amelia and Julia. There was also Catherine," she said wistfully. "We lost Tom, Mary, and Catherine to scarlet fever before the war. Richard we lost to the war itself."
"Your cousin told me."
The sound of a tapping stick approached, and a woman's hoarse voice called out, "Lizzie! To whom are you speaking?"
Julia and Amelia looked at each other in despair. Miss Wilde's face grew stony. "It is Colonel Tavington, Aunt, of whom we told you."
With great state, a tall old lady entered the parlour, leaning on a very grand walking stick. Dressed in a voluminous creation of black and violet satin, trimmed with gold fringe, decked with pearls, and crowned with a large and remarkable wig (in its turn topped by an equally remarkable lace cap), she was an extraordinary sight. Tavington stood to be introduced. The old lady appraised him with bright black eyes as Miss Wilde presented him.
"Aunt, Colonel Tavington of the Green Dragoons. Colonel, my aunt, Miss Everleigh." Miss Everleigh extended her hand, and Tavington bowed over it formally.
"Sit, sit, Colonel." Her hand waved him down, as Miss Everleigh carefully took her place in a large, throne-like chair set at the end of the sofas. She turned a stare on Miss Wilde. "Why was I not informed of his arrival?"
"You were asleep, Aunt, and had told us not to disturb your afternoon rest."
"I like to know who's in my house, especially if you're going to be having men here." She smoothed her satin skirts down with a ring-laden hand. "Did you know he was coming?"
Miss Wilde managed a smile as she looked at Tavington. "No, Aunt. Colonel Tavington has given us a pleasant surprise."
"Too bad," sniffed her aunt. "You could have changed into something that doesn't make you look like a haggard old crow."
Miss Wilde, stricken, looked away. Miss Everleigh, satisfied that she had put her niece properly in her place, turned her attention to Tavington.
"So, Colonel, I hear colourful tales of you. Though perhaps not as colourful as Lizzie's habit when she appeared at my door."
Tavington responded with a look of polite interest. He had had far more experience than Miss Wilde with both relatives and superiors who were arbitrary and impossible to please, and knew that showing pain only encouraged them. He was rapidly learning to dislike Miss Everleigh intensely, but expressing his dislike would do Miss Wilde and her sisters no good, and would only result in him being shown the door.
"I hear my nephew James Wilkins is now under your command. He is a very great fool, is he not?"
Taken aback, Tavington paused to answer. "Captain Wilkins has only recently joined the British Legion, but in that time he has proved most conscientious."
"Ha!" she crowed." I knew it! You think he's a thick-headed bumpkin!" Tavington decided not to argue the point, as it was too close to the truth. The Misses Wilde sat silently, but Tavington could see the eldest flinch.
Triumphant, Miss Everleigh sat back in her chair and looked him over thoroughly.
"You're an Englishman, I conclude?"
"Miss Everleigh, only the senior officers in the Legion are British. The bulk of the Legion is composed of loyal Americans like your nephew." She stared unblinkingly at him, obviously awaiting a straight answer.
He surrendered with, "Yes, Madam, I am English."
"I thought so. This town is crawling with military adventurers from who-knows-where. They are nobodies at home, but they put on a uniform, come here, and think they are cock of the walk."
Against such a direct attack, Tavington was proof. He rewarded Miss Everleigh's insult with his grandest sneer, raised an eyebrow and spoke softly.
"Indeed, Miss Everleigh, these Colonies have gotten themselves in such straits, that now they must choose between military adventurers who seek to protect them and uphold the King's law; and the political adventurers who seek to drag them into chaos. Whom do you prefer?"
Amused, Miss Everleigh emitted a raucous laugh. "Good for you, sir! I like men to act like men." She thumped her stick loudly.
"Ganymede!"
Out of nowhere, the butler appeared. "Yes, Miss?"
"Tea!"
"Yes, Miss," muttered Ganymede, and vanished instantly.
Tavington wondered if he would be so idiotic as to blush, for Miss Wilde and Amelia were overflowing with silent admiration, and Julia beside him had slid a small arm into his. Miss Everleigh observed it all with her bright black eyes, and snorted.
"What, Lizzie? Were you afraid I'd drive away your lover with a frank word or two?"
Amelia gasped with horror, and fixed her eyes on the floor. Miss Wilde grew pink, and she looked at Tavington helplessly. He gave her a small smile.
Am I her lover? How did this happen?
He looked at her again. Perhaps there are worse things than to be thought the suitor of a pretty, well-bred woman.
Magically, Ganymede arrived with the tea things, and Miss Wilde could conceal her mortification by pouring for them all.
A well-grown boy with a remarkably dirty face sidled into the room, and lounged by the door, staring at Tavington. Miss Everleigh saw him, and showed him no mercy.
"George Montgomery! Were you invited to join us?"
The boy goggled, obviously surprised to be so challenged.
"No, Aunt Sarah Jane Minerva. I just wanted a look at---"
"Then get out! Go upstairs and wash your dirty face!" The boy gave another surprised stare, and fled.
"Horrible little brute," said Miss Everleigh. "You should whip him, Lizzie, or he'll never amount to anything." She then addressed Tavington. "My niece fondly imagines that she can educate that savage without whipping him."
Miss Wilde bristled, "My pupils have always done well, Aunt, and I have never had to resort to violence."
"That's because you never taught a boy before," replied Miss Everleigh with conviction. "Little boys are mostly bad, and grown-up ones not much better. If they were, the army wouldn't need to flog them. Don't you agree, Colonel?"
Tavington refused to be trapped in such a way. "Soldiers in the British Army are not so fortunate as to have Miss Wilde's instruction."
This elicited another hoarse laugh. "Well parried!" The old lady seemed pleased. Tavington sighed inwardly at another narrow escape. He finished his tea and prepared to take his leave.
"You are not going?" cried Julia, disappointed.
"My dear Miss Julia, I have already been here over half an hour." He looked Miss Wilde directly in the eye. "I wanted very much to see how you all did, and it is evident that you are quite well with your esteemed Aunt." He gave a polite nod to Miss Everleigh, who smiled sardonically. "I also was asked by Captain Bordon to give his regards to the Arcadian nymphs."
"Ha! " snorted Miss Everleigh. "Still, not a bad figure of speech."
The girls were all abashed and pleased, each in her own way. Julia tugged at his sleeve. "Is there such a thing as a little girl nymph?"
"Of course: it stands to reason."
Julia was greatly delighted by this. "Lilabet, do you remember how it annoyed Mamma when Papa called her his Muse?" Even Amelia seemed hard put not to laugh. Miss Wilde smiled at the memory.
"Yes, she would say, 'Speak to me as to a rational creature, not a mythological one.'" She laughed. "Thank Captain Bordon for his charming sentiments. And I have not asked you about Mr. Lovins. Has he recovered?"
"Oh, yes, quite himself now. A good man."
"So we thought."
Tavington rose and bowed again to Miss Everleigh. "Madam, I thank you for receiving me."
"We would like to see you again. Would you join us for dinner tomorrow?"
"Madam, I regret that I cannot. My duties---"
"Well, then, Monday?"
He hesitated.
"Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday?"
"I believe I should be back by Wednesday, and accept your invitation with pleasure."
He clicked his heels, and turned to leave. Miss Wilde rose and joined him.
"I'll see you out." Julia jumped up as well, but her aunt restrained her.
"I think Lizzie and the Colonel can find the door by themselves." Julia pouted and sat down again.
In the shadowed entryway, Tavington paused to look again at Miss Wilde. She handed him his helmet and gloves with a bemused air. He caught her eye and smiled gently. "Are you all right, Miss Wilde?"
"Yes, of course," she replied, somewhat embarrassed. "We are very lucky to have a roof over our heads: it is most generous of our Aunt to open her comfortable home to us."
If you say it often enough, perhaps you'll come to believe it, thought Tavington. He said only, "It seems to me you are doing more than enough to deserve it."
She sighed and shut her eyes. "Please, Colonel, there is nothing I can say about our situation that will not sound ill bred and ungrateful." She looked up at him with a slow smile. "I must say, though, what a very great pleasure your visit has been. I hope you will be able to join us this Wednesday."
"I will do my utmost." He stepped out into the hot July sun, and donned his helmet. "Until then."
"Until then, Colonel," she said softly, shutting the door behind him.
Coming down the steps, he noticed three children watching him from the corner of the house. One was the boy, George Montgomery; with him were two smaller girls, marginally better groomed, whom he guessed were the boy's sisters. He paused and raised an eyebrow questioningly.
The girls backed away behind some shrubbery, but the boy continued gaping at Tavington.
Finally, he asked abruptly, "Did you really cut off that fellow's head?"
Tavington smirked, laid his hand on his sword hilt, and gave the boy one of his milder sneers—he was a boy, after all. "Which fellow? I cut off a lot of heads."
The girls vanished in a flurry of whispers. The boy stood open mouthed, then gave a respectful grunt, and ran back behind the house. Tavington rolled his eyes and turned to go, when he heard Miss Everleigh's voice from inside the house, evidently addressing Miss Wilde.
"A very good-looking man, Lizzie. It will be most agreeable to see him at the dinner table. I suppose it's too much to hope for that there would be any money there?"
Miss Wilde answered icily, "I neglected to ask him, Aunt."
Tavington determinedly shut his ears, and strode away, spurs jingling down the walk.