CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: Martial Law
By the second week of May, the Legion was far ahead of the rest of the army, looking for General Phillips. Sir Henry Clinton had sent the general and his forces down from New York to raid the Virginians and to fortify Portsmouth for the Royal Navy. Cornwallis was hoping for a rendezvous with them that would greatly reinforce his weakened troops.
Tavington, on horseback, looked through the trees at the little town of Halifax. His mission was to secure the town and its bridge over the Roanoke River. This was to be the army's gateway to Virginia, only a few miles away. With the Legion were Colonel Hamilton and his Royal North Carolina Regiment. Hamilton was from this area, and Tavington found the man's knowledge invaluable.
He could see the excitement in the town through his telescope. His men had come across small units of militia on the way here and had dispatched them summarily. Apparently, some survivors had made their way back to Halifax, and had alarmed the locals with the news that the Green Dragoons were upon them. No one was responding well to the news. Tavington smirked. There was a strong position about half a mile in front of the town that either the rebels had not noticed, or were too panicked to fortify.
Tavington drew his sword and ordered his men to prepare to charge. The idiot rebels were at last assembling, but on the wrong side of the bridge, in front of a deep ravine.
"Charge!" he shouted, and put his spurs to Aeolus. Responsive and swift, his horse flew toward the bridge. Around him he heard the shouts of his men, and before him, the appalled expressions of the enemy. Resistance was scattered and ineffectual. A rebel popped up in front of him, attempting to slam Aeolus with the butt of his musket. Tavington sliced down, and removed one the hands holding the weapon. He was gratified by the shriek fading away as he galloped on.
The town was soon overrun and made secure. The Royal North Carolinians and his own men routed out considerable supplies: spies were dispatched along the river to gain intelligence of General Phillips. He sent a rider back to Cornwallis, telling him of his success.
***
Within a day, a reply was back from the Lord General, along with some news: Tavington was to stay a few days in Halifax in order to better gain word of Phillips. Furthermore, Rawdon, back in South Carolina, had fought a successful battle with the rebel Greene near Camden.
Successful or not, Tavington was worried. He had always thought this a risky venture, but now, knowing that the rebel army was back in South Carolina, he wondered if they had not made a fatal error. He did not think his fragile truce with the Lord General would hold if Tavington told him his opinion of this Virginia strategy. Still, he could wish someone would advise Cornwallis to turn back.
Elizabeth and the girls were in Camden. Anything could happen, and there would be no one to defend them this time.
***
Cornwallis and the army were soon at Halifax, and Tavington was ordered to cross the Roanoke to explore further into Virginia and find places for the army to cross the Meherrin and the Nottoway Rivers. They had set out, but within a few miles, word was passed on to Tavington that they were being followed. He galloped back to the rear; and looking through his telescope, was astonished to see Lord Cornwallis himself and six of his Dragoon guards, following them at a furious pace.
He ordered a halt and met the Lord General, who reined in his horse, looking grim.
"Colonel," he said, "Dismount your men and have them form in rank. I need to make an inspection."
Tavington relayed the order, and as the men obeyed, he turned to his commander, "My lord, what has happened?"
"Some of the local country people have accused British soldiers of horrid crimes. I regret to say that they were certainly your men. The unhappy young women described the uniforms precisely." The older man's angry glance swept the ranks. "The family is coming to make an identification. I will not abide such acts. Surely your men know my orders, and indeed the regulations of the Army."
"I assure you, my lord, that your orders were clearly explained to all of the men. I hope that there has been some great mistake."
"I hope there has, Colonel," said Cornwallis acidly, "and I hope it was not British soldiers who made it."
After about a quarter of an hour, a farm wagon arrived, carrying some civilians: an old man and his wife, a middle-aged woman and two young girls. All appeared bruised and injured. One of the girls, a trembling little thing who could hardly be fifteen, had to be helped from the wagon by the others. The younger woman and the two girls were clearly frightened, but the old man and woman approached Cornwallis with less fear, and greeted him humbly.
Cornwallis walked over to them, and was courteous, if a little patronising. "My good people, thank you for coming. We shall soon settle this matter." He bent gently over the youngest girl, "My child, I have ordered the men with the uniform you described to stand here for you to see. Do not be frightened. No one can harm you in my presence."
Tavington eyed his men furiously. How dare they do this to me? This was just the thing to upset the Lord General and ruin their new understanding. He considered pointing out to the Lord General that it could all be a lie, but the bruises spoke against that, and also against the idea that it could have been consensual. The girls were respectably, if shabbily dressed. They were obviously not trollops. Who would do this? And why? Everywhere we go, there are whores for pay, and even women for whom the charm of a red coat trumps all virtue.
No. If some of his men had done this, he would not have a syllable to say for them. Let them bear the punishment they deserved.
The old man was speaking to Cornwallis. "They're thieves, too, my lord. They beat me until Carrie here told them where we kept the money. They took eighteen shillings and sixpence, sir, all we had. They took all the cornbread and a ham, and my good pewter mug."
Cornwallis was patiently polite. "I had not forgotten, my good man. Now, if you and your family will have a look at the men, see if you can tell who it was. There were two of them, you say?"
The old woman said bitterly, "Two of them there were, my lord. And I'll know their dirty faces, don't you fear!" Putting her arm around the older of the girls, she walked along the ranks, looking fiercely into each man's face. The others, helping the younger girl, followed behind. The two young girls seemed too frightened to give more than give a quick glance now and then at the soldiers.
It took awhile, and the May sun was getting warm. Tavington reviewed his men silently, thinking over possible candidates. An unpleasant surmise was surfacing, and was confirmed all too soon.
The civilians were looking at James' troop now, when the old woman let out a cry like a bird of prey. The girl with her shrank back. The other family members hastened forward and Tavington saw, with humiliated anger, Sergeant Patterson trying to run.
"Hold him!" he rapped out, before Cornwallis could give the order. Within moments, Trooper Perry's panic had betrayed him as well, and both men were brought before the Lord General. The old couple crowded after the accused, and the woman took the girls by the hand and urged them forward.
The old woman was spitting in her rage. "There they are! There they are, the dirty villains! They ruined Sally and Liza Jane, and then they laughed! Dirty, dirty villains!"
Cornwallis wanted the men searched. Patterson had the mug. Tavington could have killed him personally, if only for such imbecility. The amount the old man had cited was found between the two dragoons, and returned to the family.
Finally the Lord General insisted that the two girls, as the most injured of the men's victims, identify them before him. Reluctantly, the girls approached. The older girl was weeping as she nodded at Perry. "He's the one, my lord." She took another look at him, full of misery, and turned away. The younger girl was with the old woman, and could not seem to find the courage to look at Patterson. She was not weeping, but white and shaking. The old woman finally took the girl's chin and forced her head up. Cornwallis plainly wanted to intervene, but restrained himself.
The girl stared at the sergeant, standing resigned before her. She suddenly choked, and vomited over his boots. Cornwallis said with a mixture of compassion and distaste, "I think that is sufficient. Take the child back to the wagon." The old woman hustled the girl away, wiping her mouth with her apron.
The two dragoons looked pleadingly at Tavington. He returned the look coldly, and went to confer with Cornwallis. The Lord General was dismissing the old man with a few quiet words. The family climbed into their wagon and headed slowly back towards Halifax. Tavington wondered uncomfortably if these were the men's first crimes, or the first reported. It was lucky for the girls that they had had family to care for them and bear witness for them. What might have happened to a woman in a lonely cabin?
"An ugly business, my lord," offered Tavington.
"Indeed." The Lord General was plainly unhappy about being involved in such sordid doings. "Have the men's hands bound and put them on their horses. I and my guard will take them back to Halifax." He paused and looked searchingly at Tavington. "You do not wish to ask for mercy on their behalf?"
"The wrongs of the case seem clear, my lord: but I must admit I regret losing two good fighters."
Cornwallis did not seem particularly angry with Tavington. "Such things are bound to occur when small parties are sent out on patrol. Perhaps the others will learn caution from this example."
He mounted and rode off with his escort, the bound dragoons following along. Tavington, bitterly aggrieved, felt they should have been taken back on foot, so the Legion could have kept the horses. He planned an unpleasant quarter hour of verbal flaying for Captain James and the irresponsible Lieutenant Largin. They would soon know what it meant to neglect their duties and shame the Legion. He ordered the men to mount up, and overheard one young trooper asking Sergeant Davies, "What will they do to them?"
Sergeant Davies answered heavily, "They'll hang them, boy. They'll hang them."
***
Over the next few weeks, The Green Dragoons were scouting in eastern Virginia. They had finally met the British force sent to secure a port. General Philips, however, was dead, and the troops had devolved to the able command of the American Benedict Arnold. Combining Arnold's men with his own, Cornwallis had a rather more respectable army to work with, and was temporarily headquartered in Petersburg. From time to time they tracked down rebel militia units. The militia would not voluntarily face Tavington, so fearsome was his reputation, but they could be trapped, and they could be hunted down; and this Tavington did with a vengeance.
One such skirmish resulted in the capture of a packet of rebel letters. Tavington glanced through them and then got them back to Cornwallis at once. One of the letters was from Lafayette to Virginia's rebel governor Jefferson, and told of an upcoming meeting of the Virginia General Assembly, to be held in Charlottesville, near Jefferson's home.
"I need hardly tell you, Colonel, what an opportunity this presents," Cornwallis said. He was elated, in a ponderous way, at the possibility of capturing some of the colony's most influential rebels. The Assembly had fled Richmond when Arnold had attacked it early in the year, and no doubt the rebels thought themselves safe at such a distance.
Cornwallis showed Tavington the map. "I need you to take your Dragoons and be in Charlottesville by the third of June. Break up the assembly, capture whom you can—obviously Jefferson would be the most desirable prize. The shock of your raid will spread a healthy respect for the Crown in a previously untouched part of the colony, and should create disarray in the rebel army."
It would mean covering over seventy miles in less than twenty-four hours, but Tavington knew his men could do it. "We'll be there, my lord." He was about to leave, but then paused to ask Cornwallis, "Have you received any news from Lord Rawdon in Camden?"
Cornwallis' good mood dissipated somewhat. "Lord Rawdon is no longer in Camden." Seeing the alarmed look on Tavington's face, he clarified, "Despite his victories over Greene, he thought it necessary to remove the army to Charlestown. We are still holding a number of the forts, but the garrison at Camden has been evacuated. I have had only a brief message from him; I am hoping for a more complete report any day."
Tavington nodded and left. It was all he could do to prevent himself from mounting his horse and heading south alone. Where was Elizabeth? Surely Rawdon would not desert the loyal people in Camden. Surely he would see Elizabeth and her sisters to safety. It all depended on the speed and urgency of the evacuation. If it had been a headlong flight, the fate of the noncombatants might be unknown. He trusted in Elizabeth's good sense, but there was always the possibility of very bad luck. Heavy-hearted, he sought out his subordinates and gave orders to make ready for the raid. He went to his quarters, and arranged what could be taken with him. Most of his possessions would have to stay with the small baggage train that remained.
***
The Green Dragoons had stopped only twice on the way, and had come upon a rebel supply convoy and destroyed it. Now Charlottesville lay before them. Charging the town, Tavington saw a number of riders fleeing in different directions, evidently to warn their fellow rebels. Tavington had given instructions to round up anyone who might be in the assembly—and that meant anyone white, male, and reasonably prosperous looking. Utterly taken by surprise, the assemblymen fled in disarray.
He saw Captain Kinlock with a group of dragoons holding some men, and rode over.
"Good hunting, Captain?" One of the men Kinlock had captured was exceedingly angry, and Kinlock looked both pleased and perhaps a little embarrassed.
Kinlock replied, "Yes, Colonel: I have here not only a member of the Assembly, but a member of the Continental Congress. Colonel Tavington, allow me to present my cousin, Francis Kinlock."
Kinlock's rebel cousin was horrified at the name. He stared at Tavington with loathing. "Are you that William Tavington who killed women and children in South Carolina?"
Tavington looked him in the eye. "I am that William Tavington. I suggest you conduct yourself accordingly." He turned away, told Captain Hovenden to secure the town and supplies, and commanded Ogilvie and Wilkins to collect their troops and move on with him to Monticello, the home of Thomas Jefferson. An escaped slave was eager to guide them to the estate.
They were only ten minutes too late. Jefferson had been warned of their approach, and never a man of action, had provided for his liberty with a precipitate retreat. Tavington had come to the place planning to destroy it as an example. Once he actually rode up the hill to Monticello, however, he found himself feeling quite differently.
The house was very distinctive. Certainly not the largest he had ever seen: his own childhood home and Arcadia were easily far larger. Still, the domed, temple-like design, the fine setting on the hill, the attractive views about the countryside, unexpectedly charmed Tavington.
He spoke to Ogilvie and Wilkins. "Nothing is to be damaged here. Tell the men." Dismounting, he decided to have a look at the place. Jefferson had possibly overlooked some papers. It would do no harm to make a search.
He began walking through the house, and Wilkins joined him a few moments later. Tavington was interested in the design of what was obviously Jefferson's own bedroom. He could get out of bed directly into two different areas. The library was small in size, but stocked with some wonderful books. A violin and a music stand were there as well. A musician, he thought. Elizabeth would probably like him. Wilkins was frankly puzzled by such an idiosyncratic house, but Tavington found it thought provoking.
It was, first of all, designed for one man's comfort by that same man. Other people might live in the house, but the house was clearly Jefferson's. The splendid gardens, which he could see from the window, were well laid out and extensive. He would look at them before he left. There were some unique features there. And then, as they walked around, Tavington discovered the clever devising of the offices and storerooms.
"I never saw the like!" exclaimed Wilkins. "He's got them all hidden away! We walked right over it and never guessed the smokehouse was right under our feet!"
Tavington nodded, too intrigued for conversation. The long paved walks did hide the offices and storerooms, some of which were partially underground. It was an innovative idea, and kept the house and grounds uncluttered by the scattered outbuildings one usually saw around a plantation.
"You know, Wilkins," he finally said, "it's a pity this fellow Jefferson hasn't kept to his gardening and his inventing. He's wasted on politics, and he's clearly no soldier, but as an architect and the creator of an estate he's quite original."
"I reckon," replied Wilkins doubtfully. "He's got some strange notions, that's for sure."
Tavington smiled indulgently and took a quick look at the garden before he left. He paused before some rose beds, now just coming into bloom. How he wished Elizabeth were here to see this. The place was a horticulturist's dream. He knew, with regret, that they would never have a garden like this. Either they would need an army of slaves, as Jefferson had, or a large staff of gardeners, which would never be within Tavington's means. Still, it was worth a look, and worth remembering. A patrol was left to guard the house.
***
Back in Charlottesville, there was much to congratulate themselves about. The Legion had found a great quantity of rebel supplies, including over a thousand muskets, four hundred barrels of gunpowder, and vast amounts of tobacco. All of this was destroyed, since they had no way to take any of it back with them. Some of their other discoveries were even more gratifying.
It was Lieutenant Monroe who had found the men, thin and ragged, in the warehouse where they had been locked up and made to work as slave labourers for years. These British soldiers were survivors of the defeat at Saratoga, back in 1777, who, in defiance of the terms of the surrender of Burgoyne's army, had been carried off into the backwoods with no hope of escape. Twenty of them were found, and Tavington wished he could spend longer in the town, tearing every building apart, looking for more. At least these men would be taken back with them. He made a point of allowing the captives the pleasure of burning down the buildings where they had been forced to work.
***
By June 25th, the Legion had rejoined Cornwallis and the main army, which had headed to Williamsburg, where the healthier climate might keep them from the sickness they had been prone to in Petersburg. On arriving, Tavington reported his largely successful activities. Cornwallis was pleased.
"And I have news for you as well, Colonel," said his commander, in an expansive mood. "First, I have the pleasure of telling you that your colonelcy has been approved. You are officially a lieutenant colonel of the 79th regiment of the regular establishment." He handed Tavington the official recommendation.
"Thank you, my lord!" Tavington was surprised and pleased. As the commander of a provincial regiment, he had the temporary rank of lieutenant colonel, but the regular rank of major in the 17th Light Dragoons. His pay, his benefits, even his half-pay when he went inactive would have been based on his majority. He glanced down at the document and saw the words, He is indefatigably laborious and active, cool and intrepid in action, discerns by intuition, seizes with rapidity, and improves with skill the short but favourable decisive moments of victory. Having his colonelcy approved was not just an honour: it would be worth a great deal of money in the long run. In lieu of an actual land grant, it was a wonderful reward. He would still command the Legion, but at a far higher rate of pay. Cornwallis had, it appeared, more to tell him.
"Though Lord Rawdon has indeed withdrawn to Charlestown, he is doing well suppressing the rebel activity in his area, and sent me not only a detailed report, but some private correspondence, to be delivered to you." He gave Tavington a packet of letters with a benevolent half-smile. "No doubt you are anxious to read them. Report to me tomorrow at this time."
"My lord." Bowing, Tavington hastened away with the precious letters. Not even waiting to return to the inn where he was staying, he found a conveniently shady tree, and sat down under it. The first word he read relieved his worst fears.
Charlestown, June 3, 1781
My dearest William,
Undoubtedly you know that Lord Rawdon found it prudent to withdraw from Camden. We, too, considered leaving with the Army the wisest course. We packed our wagon once more and joined the evacuation May 10th. Charlotte and the children wept to see us go, but of course it is for the best. Her brother and his wife have moved into the house with them, and as his Whig credentials are impeccable, they should have no difficulties. Before I left, I found a governess for the girls, and an elderly parson has agreed to come and tutor George. Though he has made good progress in his studies, it is plain that he would do best studying with a man. He pointedly asked me to convey his respects to you.
Lord Rawdon was very kind, and amidst all his other concerns, he took thought of us and allowed Mr. McKay to travel as our escort. The poor boy has not yet regained his full strength, but he is well enough to return to light duty, and has been transferred to the Legion infantry, which will be at Charlestown now. Amelia very much enjoyed his company on the journey, and he was very gallant and attentive.
We were somewhat at a loss as to where we should stay. The town is overflowing with refugees. We have some distant cousins in Charlestown, but they had no room to spare for us at all. We had another offer, which I considered improper to accept. Finally, I thought of my old schoolmistress, Mrs. Rutherford. She still has her school, but due to the war, very few of the students are boarders. She was able to accommodate us with two rooms, one for me, and one for Amelia and Julia. If you direct your letters to Mrs. Rutherford's school on Church Street, they are certain to reach us.
Mrs. Rutherford is as kind and clever as ever she was, and I am very pleased that my sisters should have the opportunity of attending school and meeting other girls. I realize, dearest, that your schooldays were not the most agreeable of your life, but this school is very different, and the girls seem very happy in general.
The school year is almost over, and most of the girls will be home for the summer, but some classes will continue for the boarders.
My dearest, please do not be vexed with me. Mrs. Rutherford has been so very kind in letting me stay here that I could not simply repay her with money. This is, after all, not a common lodgings house. She asked me to take some of the classes, and I agreed. It seems very strange to be teaching girls who are in no way related to me. They are very well behaved, however, and it is not distasteful.
We have had one piece of very good news. Before we left Camden, a letter finally made its way to me from our father's friend Judge Henderson. He has gone through many difficulties with the Virginia and North Carolina legislatures about his treaty with the Indians. Most of the land he bought was confiscated by Virginia. However, in restitution, they allowed him to keep 100,000 acres in the western part of the territory. He does not anticipate settling there himself, as he has dealings with the Indians further south to occupy him. Nonetheless, he has said that ten thousand of the acres allotted to him are certainly ours, and that we can claim them when we like. His letter was so very kind, and contained so many fond remembrances of his adventures with Father, that I could not but shed tears. It is comforting to know that even in these times, there are those who can rise about political differences and show themselves truly honourable.
I cannot express how I long to be with you. I am indeed yours, my dearest, and this separation is a grievous thing. I think of the past, when we were together, and of the future, when we shall be together. The present is too painful to dwell upon.
Your loving
Elizabeth
Tavington felt a mixture of joy at her safety and unhappiness at her predicament. Since they had first met, his poor Elizabeth's circumstances had been in constant decline: first leaving her own beautiful home to be treated as a poor relation by the intriguing but difficult Miss Everleigh, and now, to be put in the position of having to teach in a school! Somehow, he would make it up to her someday. Though they might never be wealthy, they would surely have their own home, and she would be in a situation more fitting for a lady of her quality. He paused thoughtfully over her paragraph about the Kentucky land grant. Unless Britain won the war, that grant would not be worth the paper it was written upon; Henderson might honour it, but Tavington and Elizabeth would be anathema to all their neighbors. He had indeed made a name for himself in this war, as he had hoped, but he had done it so thoroughly that his name might preclude ever living in the colonies in peace.
Unwillingly, he had begun to see that the impossibility of Britain losing this conflict was becoming more and more possible. The immense cost of the war, its unpopularity at home—and now the involvement of the French and the Spanish—all pointed to the very good chance that the Crown might wash its hands of the thirteen colonies. If the troops were withdrawn, what would become of loyal people like Elizabeth and her sisters—or like his own men, who had sacrificed everything to serve the King?
Pushing these thoughts aside for the moment, he opened the next letter.
Charlestown, June 3, 1781
Dearest Colonel Tavington,
I hope this letter finds you well, as we are. We are all in Charlestown now and staying at Lilabet's old school. It is very pleasant, but different. I learn French with five other girls! Being in such strange surroundings tends to take one's mind off all that is going on about us, but our good friend Mr. McKay calls frequently, and keeps us apprised of the events in the wide world.
Mr. McKay thinks it was a mistake for Lord Cornwallis to take the army north, as we are rather hard-pressed here. We all wish you were not so far away. Do be very careful with yourself, as far as your honour allows. Mr. McKay thinks so very highly of you, and he asked me to convey his respects.
We are comfortable enough, but it is too bad we could not accept the offer from Lilabet's old friend. She thought it imprudent. The whole family is very pleasant, however, and we have been to dine with them. We often think about how hard it must be for you, and we wish we could ease your burden.
I am reading the Odyssey now, and enjoy the adventures of Ulysses very much. One hardly thinks of his suffering, the story is so interesting. I was discussing Penelope and her suitors with Lilabet. I was wondering if perhaps Penelope were not at fault in some way for attracting them and not sending them away at once, but Lilabet made me see that sometimes men one does not want are not so easily gotten rid of. Sometimes men think they know best and pursue a woman, believing that they are what she needs. It is something to reflect upon.
I remain, sir, your obedient servant,
Amelia Wilde
Sweet Amelia! Still quoting McKay's opinions. At least the boy was on the mend, and Tavington could feel less guilty on his account. The brief mention of the offer from an old friend made him wonder. Why was it imprudent to stay with friends, and how could teaching in a school be preferable?
He felt somewhat uneasy. Amelia often expressed herself in literary metaphors. What was she trying to tell him? He would write to them all. First, though, he must read the last letter.
Charlestown, June 3, 1781
Dearest Colonel Tavington,
We are all very well, and we hope you are too. We are at Lilabet's old school, and Melly and I are sharing a room. I am not supposed to call her Melly anymore, but Amelia, but I keep forgetting. She thinks Amelia is more dignified.
We had a quite an adventure in the wagon going to Charlestown. The Montgomerys were sorry to see us go, but Lilabet and Melly and I all agreed that we needed to be with the army. Cousin Charlotte's brother, Mr. Ogle, and his wife were moving into our old room. After we met them, I was especially glad to go. I don't think they are at all nice. Lilabet agrees that they will bully Cousin Charlotte, but she says the Montgomerys will be safe because Mr. Ogle has friends among the rebels. He and that wife of his wanted to go through the things we were packing in the wagon to make sure we weren't taking anything that didn't belong to us. That is not what they said, but even I could see what they meant. Lilabet was very short with them, and said if they had complaints, they could take them up with Lord Rawdon.
So we packed up the wagon again and were off. Lord Rawdon made sure we were safe. He has a big nose, and is very long and bony, but he said very nice things about you, so he is all right. He asked me to convey his respects to you. He has good manners. He bowed nicely to me, and did not pat me on the head or wink at me like a certain admirer of Mell---Amelia's. That Mr. McKay boy is underfoot all the time.
The school is all right, and Mrs. Rutherford is very nice. I can see why Lilabet likes her so much. They talk about books and music all day long. Once they get going they never stop. Lilabet is teaching some of the classes for her. The other girls are all right too, except for being silly about tight-lacing. When Mrs. Rutherford catches them at it, she makes them loosen their corset strings and
I suppose I should not be writing about corsets, so I will tell you about the DeLanceys. They came to see us at Mrs. Rutherford's very soon after we arrived. There is old Mrs. DeLancey, and her son the judge, and Mrs. Pinckney, who is the judge's sister and an old schoolmate of Lilabet's. I could see that Mrs. Pinckney felt sorry for Lilabet, because of Arcadia and teaching in a school. I suppose she means well, but I don't think it was good manners to be so pitying. Mrs. DeLancey is very nice and very motherly. She looked at my sewing and said nice things about it without being silly or simpering. She thinks a lot of Lilabet, and was so sad that Lilabet would not agree for us to come stay in her house, but she understood when Lilabet told her it would hurt Mrs. Rutherford's feelings.
I do not like Judge DeLancey at all. He looks at Lilabet like he would like to eat her up. Mel----Amelia told me that they used to be engaged a long time ago before I was born. He married someone else, but she died a few years ago, and Amelia thinks that now he is pining for Lilabet. I can see why Lilabet would not think it right to stay with him, when she has promised to marry you. It would be mean and teasing to the judge. We did have dinner with them, and they have a very nice, big house. Mrs. DeLancey showed us all over it, and she showed M---Amelia and me the rooms that would be ours if we ever stayed there. They were very pretty, but no prettier than our old rooms at Arcadia. I can understand Mrs. DeLancey and Mrs. Pinckney being fond of Lilabet and wanting her to belong to them, but it cannot be, and they should understand that.
I wish we could have gone north with you. I miss you so much. I wouldn't mind sleeping on the ground again. You know I can sleep on the ground. You were there. Lilabet says you and the Dragoons are having to ride very hard all the time. I can ride as hard as anybody. I still hate the rebels for stealing my pony.
I must close because Lilabet says the letters must go now if they are to be on the ship to Wilmington. I send every wish for your continued good health and safety.
Your obedient servant,
Julia Wilde
Thank God for Julia's indiscretion. It struck Tavington as never before that he might have made a serious error in judgement by not marrying Elizabeth when he had the chance. Had she been his wife, she could not have been prey for that pompous ass DeLancey. Tavington was painfully aware of the man's eligibility, compared with himself: his "nice, big house," the promised comforts for her sisters dangled before Elizabeth's eyes, and the most dangerous and subtle temptation for a tender-hearted woman like his betrothed---an affectionate mother, who already treated Elizabeth as a beloved daughter.
Yes, he would go to his quarters and write to Elizabeth immediately. He would assure her of his love and devotion, and talk of the enchanting possibilities to come. Like Miss Everleigh's ring, it was a slender thread to bind another with, but it was all he had.
---
Author's notes: The story of Cornwallis himself riding after the British Legion to arrest a pair of Dragoons for rape and robbery is true. And yes, they were hanged. Hanging was the standard punishment for rape and robbery of civilians in the British Army.
Tarleton's raid on Charlottesville is only lightly fictionalised. I couldn't have made up a story like the one about David Kinlock capturing his own cousin. Nor would I have made up a story like the rescue of the members of the lost army of Saratoga. As to Monticello, Jefferson went on record expressing his gratitude to Tarleton for preserving his beloved home. The remark about Jefferson's precipitate retreat is a direct quote from Tarleton's memoirs, The Campaigns.
Ten points to anyone who identifies the source of the question Francis Kinlock asked Tavington.