Disclaimer: See Chapter 1
Chapter 15: Destiny's Threads Untangled—Ferguson and the Featherstones—November 1781, and April 1782
"More tea, Mrs. Martin?"
"No—I thank you."
A little nervously, Dinah Martin sat in the neat parlour of Miss Featherstone's old friend, Mrs. Cartwright. Dinah was trying very hard to establish herself in her new role as officer's lady, and was very obliged to Miss Featherstone for teaching her fine manners and introducing her to her acquaintances.
Dear Tom was busy and gone much of the time. There was little to do, now that she had nearly finished her baby linen, and sometimes the days seemed long. Her health was sound as ever, though, and she found going out to pay calls and make new friends a pleasant sort of exercise.
Polly looked gratefully at Mrs. Cartwright. She was so good and so eager to see the best in everyone. Other old neighbors had snubbed Polly, and whispered behind her hands. Some had even crossed the street to avoid her presence. Mrs. Cartwright, however, had allowed her to enter her house, and after the first uneasiness, had embraced her, not wishing to hear her admissions or apologies. The pure-minded old lady had decided to accept the most optimistic version of events. Sally and Polly, deserted by their wicked uncle, had been found by kind Colonel Ferguson, who had sheltered the helpless girls until he could return them to their home and ask permission to marry Sally. Finding her uncle deceased, and so unable to consult her family, he and Sally had gone ahead and married quietly. Mrs. Cartwright's only regret was that she had not been present at the wedding.
Though November, it was still a fine day, mild and clear. Polly had needed a good walk, and some time spent in the company of other women to help clear her head. She had nearly made her decision, but wanted to think over all the possibilities before committing herself.
What a difference wealth made! Polly could not help feeling a little cynical. As news of her newly-inherited fortune spread, Polly's censorious old neighbors had grown cordial, gentlemen had approached her openly and courteously, and tradesfolk obsequiously welcomed her custom. Sally might allow herself an ironic smile for some of the more recently converted well-wishers, but Polly had decided to behave as if the past had not existed. Her thoughts were her own, and she did not care to share them with casual acquaintances.
How she loved Sally and dear Colonel Pattie! It had become more and more painfully clear, however, that they must part. In the end, it was the wisest, the safest, the best course. Though her Colonel had made clear that Polly would always have a home under his roof, she felt they had too much history amongst them to continue living together. The Colonel had said that he and Sally would sail to Scotland in April to visit his family, and would return the same year to settle in Charlestown. The warm climate was held to be the best for his somewhat indifferent health: better than London, better than New York, better than the West Indies. He was already full of ideas for a book he wished to write about the Insurrection. They would find a pleasant house in town, and he was already investing in shipping and the rice trade. Their income would be handsome, and their living comfortable. He had a large acquaintance in Charlestown, and would be within reach of his good friend Tavington.
The thought of William Tavington made her heart contract. She must not think of him anymore. Only sorrow could come of it. He had returned last week to the army, full of news about his home and his new little son. He was concerned about his wife, who was not recovering from her confinement as quickly as he would like. Tavington had decided to leave the army, and though his superiors were sorry to see him go, the Lord General himself had thought he was in the right: one's wife and family must come first.
Tavington had thrown himself back into his duties for the time being, and was even now patrolling along the Virginia Line. Mrs. Martin's husband, young Lieutenant Martin, was with him, hence the young wife's desire for diversion. When Dinah Martin had first approached her, begging her to help her refine her manners, Polly had found a welcome diversion of her own. Mrs. Martin did not see the irony of the situation: one campfollower teaching another to comport herself as a lady. She was a good-hearted, untutored girl, who was infinitely grateful to her husband for his generosity in marrying her. She was also sensible enough to know that his superiors might judge him by her behaviour, and was eager to make that behaviour pass muster. Mrs. Martin was doing quite well. Her pretty face disposed men in her favour; speaking softly and dressing with propriety really were all the refinements she needed to get along. Still, she had done more; absorbing all she could of gentle manners and deportment. She now wrote in the elegant hand of a lady, though the matter she wrote of was not always perfectly spelled.
Still, she would do very well. Certainly in the rough land of Kentucky, where she was bound next spring, she would seem as fine a lady as any.
Kentucky. It was more and more likely that Kentucky was her destiny as well.
"And when is your husband to return, Mrs. Martin?"
"Most likely tomorrow, ma'am. I shall be so happy when he is safe at home."
Polly was jolted back into attention to the conversation. Tomorrow. She had promised to give Duncan Monroe her answer on his return. He was Lieutenant Martin's commander, and if the lieutenant were coming, then, presumably, the captain would be leading his troop.
She had been inclined to him from the first. He knew of her past, and did not flinch from it. The day they met, on King's Mountain, he had spoken gently to her, and never, unlike so many other men, had leered at her or made coarse suggestions. Indeed, part of her inclination to him was that since he knew of her past, and did not flinch from it, or pretend he had never seen her in those days, she felt he could be trusted not to throw it up to her in the future. Further, he had urged his suit on the basis of their similar situations. They were both Virginians. They came from a similar background and would understand one another. They had both suffered dispossession and disaster, and had struggled to make a life for themselves as best they could.
He was also proud and honourable, making plain from the first that he meant to take up the Crown's offer of land in Kentucky.
"You see, Miss Featherstone, I shall never recover my land and fortune. It is in the Commonwealth, and they are not agreeing to any compensation. It is all very well for men like Kinlock and Ogilvie, indeed many of the Legion, whose property is in New York or Pennsylvania. Their rights are protected, and their futures are assured. I must make my own way now."
Hesitantly, she had said, "Perhaps, sir, if the lady you married had a fortune of her own—"
He had frowned, understanding, and shook his head. "It would be disgraceful not to bring something to a marriage. If I go to Kentucky, I will receive two thousand acres, and can contribute my just share to an alliance. I would not have it said that I married for money.""Another very small piece of cake, my dear Mrs Martin? It is very wholesome, and I am sure will not upset you."
Polly tried to give her attention to the scene before her. Mrs. Cartwright was too kind to comment on her distracted behaviour. She accepted a piece of cake herself, and had a moment's more thought while occupied with eating it.
She thought Monroe a rather comely man. Not the type she had always admired, certainly, and not handsome as William Tavington was, but in his way a good-looking man: active, lithe, and vigorous, like all dragoons. He was tall, too; nearly as tall as his friend Captain Wilkins. His shaggy, dark-blond hair, his grey-green eyes, his quite handsome mouth and jaw all offset the broken nose and the rakish scar across his left cheek that gave an interesting twist to his smile.
After a few more pleasantries, the visit was over, and she left with Dinah Martin. They strolled back, enjoying the life of the street and exclaiming over the shop windows. They made a few purchases, and Dinah went her way at the next corner. Polly returned to her lodgings, once again lost in thought.
She hummed to herself as she doffed her cloak, and looked for a favourite paisley shawl to wrap around herself. The sitting room was deserted. She found her workbasket and moved it over to a chair by the window.
Singing softly, she began work on a present for Mrs Martin's baby.
"Early one morning, just as the sun was rising,
I heard a young maiden in the valley below.
'Oh, don't deceive me,
Oh, never leave me.
How could you use a poor maiden so?'""All right then," a deep voice agreed. "I'll never leave you."
"Captain Monroe!" She rose and curtseyed. He was bigger than she remembered him: more male, more muscular, more there. She felt a little intimidated. "I did not expect you until tomorrow. Why did the servant not tell me you had come?"
He smiled at her, "She did tell you, but you were too intent on your work to hear."
She blushed, and motioned him to sit. "Forgive me. I have a great deal on my mind."
He sat, arranging his long legs carefully. "I hope I was on your mind."
Her chair faced his, and she sat on the edge of it, her heart pounding. "Of course you were."
They were both silent. The fire crackled and the clocked ticked the time away. Nervously, she folded up her sewing, and set it back in the basket.
At length, Monroe spoke. "You promised me an answer."
Unable to sit still, she rose and went over to the window, looking away from him. She could go to Charlestown, once Colonel Pattie had purchased a house there. She could arrange it for them so it would be comfortable on their return from Scotland. She knew people in Charlestown. She would have Sally's companionship. She might see Tavington again.
Monroe had followed her to the window, and gently touched her shoulder. "Polly," he said. "Look at me."
She blurted out, "Marriage is such a serious and permanent undertaking. What if you regret marrying me? What if I hate Kentucky? What if you meet someone you like better?"
His slow smile warmed her. "I'm not going to meet anyone I like better. And we are going to love Kentucky, for it shall be our home."
"But—"
He did not stop to listen to her objections, but pulled her close to him, startling her into silence. He looked down at her, his eyes flicking to her mouth, her throat, her bosom, and then back up to look directly into hers. His strong hands kneaded pleasurably at her shoulders, and he bent to take her lips in a gentle kiss. His hands left her shoulders, and slid around her, until she was held fast and close in his arms. The scent of him, the essential scent of an active man, of liquor and leather and horses, of gunpowder and tobacco, intoxicated her. She had not been kissed properly in months, and felt herself melting into him; her arms returning the embrace, her own mouth seeking his hungrily. He broke the kiss with a last, sweet touch, and looked into her eyes once more; and her choice was made.
-----
"Hurry, Tom! That's the churchbell now!"
"Straighten my cravat, won't you, Dinah?"
They bustled out the door, as fast as Dinah's growing awkwardness would allow. Sam Willett and his brother Walter joined them on the way to the church, and soon they were there, joining the rest of the British Legion and a great many of the American Volunteers for a proper military wedding.
Tom looked admiringly at Mrs Ferguson and Miss Featherstone. They might be ladies of blemished reputation, but he had always thought them very pretty. They looked happier and prettier than ever today, in their winter finery. Miss Featherstone had been wonderfully kind to Dinah, helping her learn new ways, and being good company for her. He had heard they had each inherited twenty thousand pounds from their rich uncle! No wonder Captain Monroe had sought out Miss Featherstone!
He was pleased for his much-admired captain. Monroe had been a teacher, friend, and brave commander throughout the war, and Thomas was delighted to see him win such a prize: a beautiful woman and a fine fortune. He thought complacently of the spring expedition to Kentucky. Captain Monroe had told him that he was going, and Thomas felt more confident about it, knowing that his captain would be there. Dinah was happy, too, not to lose her friend.
He looked around the church. Miss Featherstone was dressed in rich blue velvet and looked like a queen. Her sister was there, standing up with her. With Captain Monroe was Captain Wilkins, and Thomas hoped that he would be coming out to Kentucky, too. What a fine pair of men they were, so tall and soldierly!
So many men, and quite a few women, too, had crowded into the church. There was a nice-looking old lady, sitting up at the front with Colonel Ferguson. Colonel Tavington was there too, looking very serious. Thomas regretted that Colonel Tavington was not to be part of the Kentucky adventure, but would be leaving the army soon to go home to South Carolina. Thomas had been quite delighted to hear from the Colonel about how his commander had voyaged to Charlestown with his own father, and had met Aunt Charlotte and all the children. Occasionally, Thomas felt a little guilty about leaving Father, but he knew he could not pass up this great opportunity. Perhaps Father and Colonel Tavington would find occasion to improve their acquaintance. Perhaps they might even be good friends someday. Thomas consoled himself with the idea.
David McKay of the Queen's Rangers had slid down the pew to sit by Thomas. He, also, was going to be traveling to Kentucky. He whispered to Thomas, "Your Captain is a very sensible man, finding a wife to take with him. I'm very much of his mind."
Thomas wrinkled his brow questioningly.
McKay explained, very earnestly. "Kentucky is not exactly going to be full of eligible young ladies, unless you want to marry an Indian! If a man wants a proper wife, he'll need to find one here, and take her with him." He gave an approving nod toward Dinah. "Like your own charming wife. A very wise preparation for our journey."
Thomas returned his attention to the ceremony. He certainly did not regard Dinah as a part of his preparations, but he took McKay's meaning. His only anxiety was the date of departure. He hoped that their child was born and Dinah somewhat recovered by then.
Tavington watched the proceedings with mixed feelings of satisfaction and sadness. Polly seemed very happy, and Monroe seemed to value her as he ought. He wished that it might have been possible for them to have come to South Carolina. Elizabeth would like Polly, and Monroe was an intelligent and companionable man. Kentucky was a wild land and far away: anything could happen to them. Still, it was for the best. Monroe would no doubt do well, and perhaps it was a good thing for Polly to make a new beginning far from Pattie and from himself. Monroe had told him about the new lodgings he had found for himself and his bride. He had wisely put a little distance already between Polly and her old life. It was best that they be everything to each another from the first.
Like Elizabeth and himself. He thought anxiously about his Elizabeth, and counted the days until he could see her again. He considered taking her and the children to Charlestown for a month or two for a little diversion. Perhaps when she was feeling better. Right now, he wanted to know Arcadia in every season. He wanted to see his son again, who might have changed out of all recognition in his absence. What a wonderful little fellow! Tavington had never been particularly fond of children, but it was strange how much more appealing they were when they were one's own. Of course, little Will was an unusually winning and gifted child. Everyone said so, including his nurserymaids. It was certainly true.
Monroe was saying his vows, promising to worship Polly with his body. A very nice vow. Tavington felt gratitude to the Book of Common Prayer; and then a tender thrill of memory, recollecting his own such vow to Elizabeth, and how delightfully he had fulfilled it.
There now. They were married, and turning to the congregation. Polly was smiling at Sally and Pattie. She did not look at him, and he was a little hurt. Ah! Now she did, passing by him on her way out of the church on Monroe's arm. There was a brief, gentle glance. She had said goodbye.
-----
Winter was over, and packing had absorbed all their time recently. Ferguson was looking forward to the voyage home—as much as he ever looked forward to any travel by sea. Sally, brave girl, was excited about it as well. She had seen so little of the world that a journey to England, and then to Scotland seemed as daring as one to the Sultan in Constantinople. It was a diversion for her too, for Polly was packing for a journey of her own, and their departure might mark their last meeting in life.
The April weather was fair enough for their voyage. They would be gone before the Kentucky expedition set out on the 21st. His family were delighted to hear of his return, and had written kindly of their eagerness to welcome his bride.
He looked over Tavington's recent missive, and smiled thoughtfully.
Arcadia Plantation
March 2, 1782
My dear Pattie,
My kindest regards to your lovely lady and to yourself. I write as a simple country gentleman—and delighted to be so! The last few weeks have been mild here in South Carolina, and have afforded many days for exercise out of doors. The children are always eager to go riding, and the older ones show growing excellence in horsemanship. Your young friend and mine, my sister Julia, has become quite the sportswoman, and takes all the jumps over hedge and stream as fearlessly as any Amazon.
Elizabeth is much improved in health. She has lately begun participating in our expeditions, whenever I can lure her away from our son's cradle. Forgive the doting father, but I must write about my little boy. Other parents may make outrageous claims for their own children: I proclaim them all dupes or liars. It is our own little Will who is the cleverest, the most entertaining, the best grown, and most advanced for his age of any child on either side of the Atlantic. My dear Elizabeth says the same, and such a discerning woman could hardly be wrong.
At Christmas, we were astonished to have a visitor in Elizabeth's old friend Stephen DeLancey, whom you may recall as one of the gentlemen involved in the Theodosia affair. Elizabeth and I, at least were surprised. Amelia was markedly less so. Not only did the gentleman display a decided preference for Amelia's company, he actually approached me for permission to court her! The man is her sister's former fiancé, and only a year younger than I. Amelia is but sixteen, and our final decision was that if they are still so eager when she turns seventeen next September, we shall give the match our blessing. Amelia has certainly become very serious and steady, so perhaps the fellow's influence is not a bad thing. Popular as she has been in the past few months with the young men of the neighborhood, I did not quite see her as willing to accept a suitor so very much her senior. That is her fervent wish, however. Elizabeth has received letters from the man's mother and sister, strongly urging the marriage, and full of their affection and regard for Amelia. I suppose it could be far worse. For awhile she was flirting with one of my junior officers, who is a second son with no fortune.
Besides, with his notoriety and his service on the King's Bench, DeLancey has a fair chance at a knighthood in the near future. Lady DeLancey! Amelia would not dislike that. I did not think she would remain long unmarried, and I seem to have been right. Well for Elizabeth that she has found a friend and companion in Miss Temple, the children's governess.
Thank you for the news of Polly and Monroe. I am very pleased to hear of his transfer and promotion. Major of dragoons in the new Royal Kentucky Volunteers! It sounds very splendid. He is a fine officer, and I believe he will prove a good husband for Polly as well. I can certainly understand your wife's unhappiness at their plans, but it is a great opportunity for them.
I have been in contact with Danforth, the house agent. He sees a number of good prospects in the Charlestown area. Now is an excellent time to secure property, as we have found. We have purchased some land adjoining Arcadia, which rounds out the estate nicely. I have enclosed Danforth's communication. I trust you will find something that would suit. Pray let me know of any way I may serve you.
So, the Republicans are safely bottled up in their tight little enclave. One hears all sorts of rumours about their extreme politics and peculiar government. Much that I hear must be invented, for it cannot be true. That leaves the Commonwealth to concern ourselves with. Or for you to concern yourself with, at least until you sail for Scotland! Inevitably, there will be a war with the Commonwealth over the French sneaking into Baltimore harbour, or some border dispute, but I pray that it not be soon.
Elizabeth and I both look forward to your safe return and your happy establishment here in South Carolina.
I remain, my dear Pattie, your true friend and obedient servant,
Wm. Tavington
"My love, remember that we dine with Polly and Major Monroe tonight."
Sally sat at his side, and leaned her head affectionately on his shoulder. It was an agreeable thing, marriage to such a beautiful and agreeable woman. Only one more thing was wanting.
"I'll be ready in a trice, dear lass."
It was their custom now, when duty permitted, to meet at least once a week to dine and talk. Polly and Sally saw more of each other, of course, visiting back and forth. They were storing up years of memories for the time of their separation.
It was a particularly good dinner. The ladies withdrew, and he and Monroe sat together over a bottle of claret, sharing their plans.
"I've found another fine mare. Looks to have some Arab blood—a neat-footed little beauty, and strong."
Monroe was collecting a string of excellent horses to take on the journey west. As he rightly said, "People will always need good horses." He had settled on the scheme of breeding horses in Kentucky. Whether the country would suit such an endeavour remained to be seen. At any rate, it was as good an investment as any, and at least the creatures would not need to be carted. Unlike other things.
"The amount of provisions I judge necessary are enormous. Even two wagons seem hardly enough. Of course, we need to feed ourselves and the servants as well."
"It's well that you're going all together in a body. Such a train of women, horses, and loot would be a sore temptation to the local folk along the way."
"True. It's as much a military expedition as anything. But Cornwallis means to have a thriving town built and bustling before winter, and so we must be prepared to carpenter and cultivate as well as fight. There are still wild bands of rogue militia in the mountains to the west."
Ferguson nodded grimly. The war had dragged on for years, and some of the erstwhile soldiers had developed a taste for fighting and had never learned the arts of peace. There were some militia leaders who had never acknowledged the cessation of hostilities, and who lived by raiding. Both the Crown and the Commonwealth were trying to root them out. It was a touchy business, for the bands often took shelter behind one side of the border or another, making it difficult to pursue them without creating a casus belli. One of Cornwallis' aims in traveling west with his large force was to clear out these robber bands, and establish the King's peace throughout his territories.
He lifted his glass. "Luck to your enterprise."
Sally and Polly were lazing by the fire in the sitting room. It was so good to be together, just the two of the them. They had endured so much, and now fortune was smiling on them. Over the horizon loomed leave-taking and separation, but for the moment, life was good.
Sally spoke into the peaceful silence. "I've been feeling a bit off, lately."
Polly opened her eyes. "What do you mean?"
"I mean---a little discomposed—perhaps a bit of indigestion now and then, perhaps not."
"Sally!" Polly sat up straight, awakening completely. "Do you think –truly?
"I hope so. Pattie wants a child so much. And of course now that-- precautions --are no longer necessary, I had hoped to conceive sooner."
"Perhaps what happened before---"
"Perhaps. But that was a long time ago."
The thing they spoke of, the thing they could hardly bear to speak of, the thing they had never told another soul, was that Sally had born a child years ago. When their well-hated uncle had cast them out, Sally had been with child by him. With child and only fifteen. Their ugly experiences with the inn, the innkeeper and his beastly friends had not been salutary. The baby had been born early and dead. Sally had been weak and ill for some time, as they wandered south; and Polly had fed them with her meagre takings as a whore. It was a time they wished to bury so far deep in their memories that it would never arise again. Occasionally, Sally had feared that it might have made her barren, for she had not conceived since. Pattie had been careful, not wishing to beget a bastard for which he would need to provide, but still accidents would happen. She had pleased before, but lately she had begun to worry. Now, it seemed, her worries were over.
"It might not be so pleasant, carrying a child while at sea, but women do it all the time. I hope we can be home in Charlestown by the time it is born."
Polly got up and sat by her sister, putting her arms around her. "Oh, Sally, how wonderful! I pray it might be so. And now you have stolen my thunder, and the words from out of my mouth, so I should scold you."
"Polly! Really?"
"I'm absolutely sure. I was afraid, too, since I had never--but it seems all of those washings and rinsings, and –other things—must have worked. I have not used them since I married, and I have certainly conceived. And now we shall be mothers of children with fathers. Thank God."
They cuddled together, warm and at peace, and had completely dozed off by the time their husbands joined them in the sitting room and laughed at them heartily for their sloth.
-----
A few days later, Dinah was paying a call on Mrs. Monroe when her water broke; and her petticoat, her stockings, and the chair underneath her were soaked. She had felt some mild cramps earlier, but nothing she could not bear. It was so dull, being alone, that she had gone out, even though Mrs. Monroe and Mrs. Ferguson had promised to visit, and had told her it was not the thing for a woman in her advanced state to gad about. That, explained Mrs Monroe kindly, was what "confinement" meant. They had seen enough camp women give birth to know what was happening, and they tried to restrain Mrs. Martin from walking home again.
"But I must go home! Tom will worry if I am not at home when he comes back." She was quite irrational, and the landlady sent her boy out to hire a carriage to transport Mrs. Martin the short distance home. The other ladies went with her, helped her upstairs, undressed her, and sent for the midwife.
The midwife barely arrived in time. That good woman later declared that it was indecent for a lady to pop out a son in the space of three hours, with little pain and no danger. "It's the sort of thing that would put me out of business," she indignantly declared. "Giving birth like a plow horse!"
A servant was engaged, to help both as a maid and a nurse, if only for a few days. "But it's not so bad," Dinah protested. "It doesn't hurt near as much as the time the mule kicked me." She allowed the sisters to fuss over her a little, however, taking it correctly as a proof of their kindness. And after all, what a nice surprise when Thomas would come home, and find his little boy waiting for him!
"What is his name?" Mrs. Monroe asked softly, as a tiny hand grasped her finger.
"Ben—Benjamin. That's what Tom said we'd name him if he was a boy. After his own father. He's a very fine gentleman, his father. He gave me my pearl cross." She was growing sleepy and a little confused.
Sally smiled, and Polly whispered to Dinah, "Yes, I know. You wear it every day, remember?"
"Umm." Dinah was sound asleep.
-----
Notes: Duncan Monroe's appearance is based on my own husband, except for the scar, the broken nose, and the 18th century smell (Polly was an 18th century woman, and liked it). Since none of you know my husband, picture instead Sean Bean, as he looked when he played Richard Sharpe about 10 years ago, or when he played Lovelace in Clarissa.
In retrospect, this is a chapter of pregnant women. However, I stand by it. Women in the 18th century seem to have been never pregnant, or pregnant all the time. None of my heroines however, is going to challenge women like Queen Anne, with her 18-odd pregnancies, or the Duchess of Leinster, who bore twenty children.
Thank you to my kind reviewers:
Zubeneschamali: Thanks for the review. You've given me a number of good ideas, among them portraying Mrs. Cartwright and David McKay again. Yes, I like Polly too, and tried to persuade her to do the best thing for herself. I think it will work out well. And it's true: it's very important for the womenfolk to make friends among themselves, for the men are often actually out there being soldiers, and cannot forever be dancing attendance on the heroines! Amelia is just bursting with hormones, and would have fallen, as you say, for any reasonably attractive man. She was actually living in the same house as DeLancey for some months, and found him pleasant, conversable, and with virtues Tavington could not have known about: DeLancey likes the company of nice, intelligent women, and is extremely good to his mother and sister. These are real points in favour of him being an excellent husband. She was also terribly impressed by his library and the fact that he actually reads the books and likes her to read them too. As to little Will: it was the flip of a coin. The coin flipped the other way for the next child.
LCWA: Thanks! Yes, the settling of Kentucky will loom large. It seemed a logical outcome. And Martin and Tavington are so alike in some ways that I thought, given different situations, they might take to one another. Glad you like the quotes.
Kontara: Thanks! Yes, like any war, the Revolution is full of possibilities and turning points. I recently read a book called What If, which is full of essays on potential military outcomes. One of the essays is called "Fifteen ways the Colonies could have lost the Revolution." The situation you mention was among them! I can think of a few more. It's a fun and challenging way to think about history.
Pigeonsfromhell: Thanks! No, I couldn't kill Elizabeth off. I played with the idea in my own mind, and got very depressed. My readers don't need to be that depressed. Bad things did happen, and my characters must die some day, but not today! Not today!
SlytherinDragoon: Thanks! See above about Elizabeth. I considered it, and rejected it as wrecking my story line and warping the narrative. There's no doubt that Ben and Will are going to see much more of each other as the years go by. I can't see any reason for them to not get along, unless there's a marriage between the kids in the two families that they don't approve of. Who knows?
Nomorebraces: Thanks! It's fun writing Tavington as a father. I could see him being the sort of guy who would think his own kid was the world's greatest. Also, he's determined to be a better father than his own was.
Angelfish23: Thanks! I enjoyed writing that!
Ladymarytavington: Thanks! And here it is.
Carolina Girl: Thank you! You raise many good points. It's very true that extended families were not uncommon. Charlotte Montgomery is just not up to running a household and raising children alone. The very idea of being left alone as the only adult back in the house in Camden overwhelmed and frightened her. I know I never show it in any of my stories, but her dispossession from her home back in 1779 was very traumatic, and she'll never get over it. The property itself has been reclaimed and rented, and she is getting income from it, which is being handled for her. All in all, the children are fairly well provided for, financially. She is very dependent emotionally on the Tavingtons, and it would take a serious suitor to dislodge her. She understands that the children need a stable environment and a good education, too. George was really already too much for her. She's very good with babies, and not so good once the babies start talking sense. Little Caroline was based on my niece Anna, who was pretty adorable as a baby. (Sorry, Anna! You're still a great kid!) I couldn't see any reason why William Tavington would not find the beautiful and genteel Charlotte Selton charming, if the war and politics were not an issue. And in another universe, and in another story, Polly and Tavington could be very happy together. In that universe, of course, they would either end up in Kentucky, or in our timeline in Nova Scotia. Or possibly in Barbados. I've toyed with the idea of Tavington, shirt open and displaying his most excellent chest, in the sultry sun of the West Indies ("Welcome to the Caribbean!").
Next chapter: Thomas Finds His Destiny