Disclaimer: Neither the rights to the Patriot, nor the history the film makers made up, belong to me.

Chapter 16: Thomas Finds His Destiny

The expedition to Kentucky was nothing like the lightning-fast raids Thomas had known with the Green Dragoons. The army was a huge and populous baggage train, trundling slowly south back across the Roanoke to Halifax, and then west across North Carolina. A regiment of foot, Webster's 33rd in fact, a sizable detachment of artillery, and the Royal Kentucky Volunteers made it too well-guarded a prize for the vicious little robber bands, which buzzed angrily about the countryside like bees kept from the honeypot.

The dragoons of the Volunteers, of course, scouted the road ahead, and patrolled the neighborhood, keeping their eyes open for trouble. Their progress slowed, as the land became more mountainous, and as every river forded, and every pass penetrated took greater time and effort. West of Greensboro, the country was very wild indeed, and the locals more shy of the vast army of strangers. Still, countryfolk came out now and then to look as they passed, pointing at the uniforms, at the cannon, and at the ladies traveling with the army. Above all, the sight of General Lord Cornwallis on a great white horse made as great an impression as if the King himself had appeared amongst them.

They reached the little village of Wilkesboro on May 29th. From long practice, they made a city of their own, with wagons covered with canvas, and with tents of all sorts and sizes. Some were fairly spacious and well-furnished: others more humble.

Thomas generally had the servants pitch the tent for himself and Dinah, though she often preferred to sleep in the wagon as they journeyed. Baby Ben was kept close and safe in a pillow-lined wooden box that served as his cradle.

"He's a proper little soldier himself," was Dinah's opinion. "Just takes it all in stride, and hardly ever makes a fuss, unless he's wanting a drink." She had forgotten all about the long dull days of her confinement. Now she was fully occupied with the care of her little boy, and was surrounded with life and activity all day long. There was little time most days for visiting or idle chatting, and she was often so tired when they halted at night, that she was asleep as soon as they had made camp and eaten.

Thomas had posted a letter to his father a few days before the expedition left for Kentucky, informing him of their plans and telling him about his new grandson. A few months hence, when they had arrived at their destination, he would write again, and give the letter to a courier traveling east. One day he would hear from Father again, certainly.

Polly Monroe was often tired herself, though her condition was not yet visible. Riding in the jolting wagon often made her nauseous, but it had to be borne. She was no horsewoman, so sometimes she walked, when the road was good enough; but walking six to nine hours a day was beyond her strength. A straw tick with pillows was arranged in one of the Monroe wagons, and she tried to sleep to make the days go faster.

It was twilight, and she rested on a camp stool by their fire, waiting for their servant Nancy to finish cooking supper. The mountainous country was pleasant in the evenings. Duncan had been out patrolling the area that day, attempting to make contact with the townspeople. Gradually, a party of horsemen came down a slope, emerging through the trees. Even at this distance, she could see it was Duncan with his men, but he was not alone: a tall stranger was with them, walking on foot beside the dragoons, dressed in the rough clothes of a woodsman. They were talking as they went along, and Duncan did not see her wave. The men were dismissed to care for their horses, and Duncan and the stranger headed off in the direction of the Lord General's tent.

"We'll wait a little longer for the Major, Nancy. I'm sure he'll be along directly."

Within half an hour, Duncan was back at their campsite and gratefully consuming his dinner. Polly waited for him to take the edge off his hunger, before bothering him with questions, but he began the conversation spontaneously.

"We met up with that fellow Daniel Boone, who did the exploring for the Transylvania Company. He's from around here. He has some land in Kentucky and wants to travel along with us. The Lord General put him on the payroll as a scout."

Polly looked at him anxiously. "You don't think he's a rebel, do you? Could he be plotting with—"

Duncan laughed. "No, I'm sure he was a rebel sympathiser. He was pretty plain-spoken about it. He came back to join the rebels, but by the time the family got here, the opportunity in North Carolina was over. He thought about going up to the mountains in western Virginia, but he likes Kentucky more than he dislikes the King. After thinking it over, he decided to offer his services as scout to make sure the Lord General confirms his holdings in Kentucky, and to make sure his family can travel safely along with us. The whole area around here has been suffering from the leftover bands of militia. He was able to give us some information about one of the groups. They killed some friends of his, and he wants them dealt with before he's done with North Carolina."

"As long as you trust him." She got up, feeling very tired, and touched his shoulder. "I'm going to the tent now. Are you coming to bed soon?

He gave her his mischievous smile. "As soon as the army allows. You go on."

Polly left Nancy and Esau to set their camp in order for the night, and entered the tent she shared with her husband. It was reasonably spacious: certainly enough for just the two of them. She was heartily glad she was not traveling with small children, like many of the wives. She undressed, brushed out her hair, settled down in their cot, and had actually fallen into a light sleep when Duncan joined her.

She opened her eyes drowsily, comforted by his familiar presence. He unbuttoned his jacket, and sat on the edge of the cot, pulling off his boots, with a grateful sigh. In the light of the single candle, Polly again felt herself drifting off to sleep, only to be startled awake by the sound of a guitar and some deep voices singing around a nearby campfire.

"Sorry, Polly," her husband smiled. "It's a good half an hour before they must be quiet."

"If only they could carry a tune."

"It's not so appalling tonight." He listened, head cocked. "There's Fraser—he hasn't a bad voice."

The guitar wandered through an introduction, before settling on a lively and ribald ballad.

"A trooper lad came here last night,

With riding he was weary,

A trooper lad came here last night,

When the moon shone bright and clearly."

"Bonnie lassie, I'll lie near you,

Hey bonny lassie, I'll lie near you,

I'll gar all your ribbons reel,

Bonny lassie, ere I leave you.

"She's ta'en his high horse by the head,

She's led him to the stable,

She's given him both corn and hay

As much as he was able.

"She's ta'en the trooper by the hand

And led him to the table,

There's food and wine for a soldier here,

As much as he is able.

"She went upstairs to make the bed,

And she made it soft and easy,

She's pulled her petticoats o'er her head,

Crying, Soldier, are you ready?

Polly giggled helplessly. She whispered, "Well—are you?" Monroe rumbled a laugh, and blew out the candle. He lay carefully beside her on the creaking, narrow cot, and pulled her close.

"Bonnie lassie, I'll lie near you,

Hey bonny lassie, I'll lie near you,

I'll gar all your ribbons reel,

Bonny lassie, ere I leave you."

-----

Boone's quarrel was with the former rebel militia band led by one "Colonel" Crawford. This group of some twenty-odd former soldiers had refused to accept the Carolinas remaining under the Crown. Crawford was from South Carolina, and had lost home and family there, and was very bitter against the King. At first, the band had attacked farms and businesses of known Loyalists, but with the death of the Colonel's father, the band had degenerated, and the men had begun raiding the area indiscriminately. They called it "tax collecting," or sometimes "requisitioning," but it inevitably involved stealing the necessities of life from the already poor, and the outlaws showed a growing indifference to injuring or killing those who resisted. Boone's friends were among the most recent victims. The family's only survivor, a boy of eight, had made his way to Boone's cabin to tell him how his parents and sisters had died.

Boone had made it his business to track the raiders to their lair. It had taken him nearly two weeks, but he had found the place and scouted it thoroughly. Crawford had "liberated" a large, well-built log house north of Wilkesboro from its "Tory" owners. The band had gathered their loot there, and were well provided for by it. The barns and outbuildings were full of provisions and arms, and they had collected the best of the neighborhood's horses and livestock. They were served by unwilling young women, kidnapped from their homes, and now living with the men who had made some of them widowed and childless. All in all, they were well set for a long tenure, and unless dislodged by a large force, would terrorise the area for years to come.

He decided there was nothing much he could do against the raiders alone, without undue risk to his own family. The other locals were too afraid to put up a fight. He knew, however, that the British expedition to Kentucky was on the march, and he sat down to wait for it. Crawford and his men would no doubt go to ground in their hideout and do nothing to attract the notice of so superior a force. It would be Boone's particular pleasure to bring the robbers to the King's justice.

Cornwallis heard him out, and agreed to the need to hunt the outlaws down. He took the precaution, however, of bringing Boone's family to the British camp as hostages for his new scout's good faith. Boone accepted this: he was planning to travel with the British anyway, and this simply speeded up the process. Jemima and the children were looking forward to returning to Kentucky, and even happier to be under the protection of the army. Boone never forgot the son he had lost years ago, killed by the Indians, during their first journey through Cumberland Gap.

-----

In the darkness before dawn, Monroe led the dragoons through the trail among the hills Boone had blazed for them. He had three troops at his command, and they would be more than enough to deal with these outlaws. He had a crude map of the area, and the plan was to surround and surprise the robbers in their stronghold. There were also women hostages to consider, and he wanted to move in and overwhelm the enemy before the women could be used as shields or otherwise harmed.

Thomas had dismounted and was leading his men through the trees on foot. Boone was up ahead, and they were looking for the robbers' lookouts. They were to deal with them as quietly as possible, and not alert the rest of the outlaws to their presence. He had ordered the men's silence, and now they waited, hearing only a mockingbird's song, until Boone made his way silently back to them. It was a chilly morning, and mist rose up from the ground.

Boone's weathered face cracked in a grim smile. "There's a fellow leaning up on a cedar 'bout fifty yards straight ahead. There's another back around yonder by the creek. He's sitting there on a stump, whittling. It don't seem either one's up to much. There are five or six men sleeping in the barn, and one was out in the privy."

"Was?"

"Well, I figured I should make sure he didn't get back to the house. If we get in there fast enough, likely nobody will miss him afore time."

"All right." Thomas considered. "Sergeant Davies—you take four other men up ahead. Deal with the lookout there, but silently. Use your swords or knives or anything but firearms. We don't want to wake the rest of the band. When you have finished with the lookout, give the signal—two owl hoots. We're going to skirt the trees on our way back to the other lookout. In the meantime, get as close to the barn as you can. Powder and weapons are stored there, and we want to make sure of them. After we deal with the second lookout, we will give the same signal, and we will then move on to the corncrib. Major Monroe's plan is to set fire to the corncrib as a diversion. When the outlaws run out to put out the fire, the dragoons will charge. We will rush the house, and secure it against the enemy using it as a fort. You are to do the same with the barn."

Davies gave him a grin and a jaunty salute. He and he men moved soundlessly and were soon lost in the dim light. It seemed to take forever, but it was really only a few minutes before Thomas heard the call of an owl, and then he and the rest of the men moved on, following Boone's sure lead.

The second lookout had a knife in his hand, and sliced one of the dragoons along the arm when he was seized from behind. Not a sound escaped him, though; for they covered his mouth, and he bit and struggled wordlessly before their swords found their mark, and he slumped to the ground.

Thomas led the men toward the squat corncrib, looming up ahead, silhouetted in the coming dawn. He motioned to McDonald, carrying a dark lantern, and the doughty fellow quickly opened the rough door and threw it in. Smoke rose from the interior, and then a faint glow. Flames were visible through the cracks in the log walls, and were licking their way to the roof in minutes. The dragoons moved back and took their positions along the side of the house, waiting for their moment. The windows were shuttered, and it was impossible to see what was happening inside.

From the direction of the barn, there was a hoarse shout. Either they were discovered, or someone had seen the fire. There was a stir inside the house. Another shout, this time clearer. "Fire!"

Almost instantly, they heard the front door slam open, and the sound of men stumbling outside. Boone was beside Thomas, and his lips were moving as he counted the number of men going out the door. Thomas saw him reach "eleven," and then there was a shot from the direction of the barn. No use waiting any longer.

"Follow me!"

He ran around the front of the house, knocking a shocked man down. He ran on, hearing the sounds as his dragoons accounted for the fellow. He ran inside, Boone and the rest at his heels. The house was lit by the glow of the fireplace, and the sleepy women there saw Thomas and his men bursting upon them. Immediately there were shrill screams of fright, and Thomas shouted them down into frightened submission.

"I am a British officer! Do not resist, and you will not be harmed!"

His men knocked the shutters open to shoot through, and others were running through the house to find any men still there. There were shots fired in the room off to one side, and a woman's scream.

A distant roar, and the sound of hoofbeats. The dragoons were charging. His own men were in place, and shot down the outlaws who tried to run back into the house.

A half-naked girl grabbed at Thomas, crying, "Are you going to kill them? Are you going to kill them?" He shrugged her off, pushing her out of his pistol's line of fire.

He shouted, "Are there any others here?"

She looked back at him wildly, and another woman answered with a gesture and a frightened whisper. "Two up in the loft. But don't hurt Becky."

"Fraser!" he dropped his voice. "In the loft. Two men and a woman."

The big sergeant gave a sharp nod, and headed to the ladder. Thomas ran to the bedchamber, where he had heard shots. Two of his men were there, searching the room. A frightened, bloodstained woman huddled under a quilt. A big man was lying dead on the bed, a huge red hole in his chest. He stared blindly at the ceiling, while the soldiers rummaged through a trunk and the clothes chest for loot.

Thomas ordered sharply. "Get those shutters open and get your carbines ready for anything in front of that window." He turned to the young woman in the bed. "Get some clothes on. No one's going to hurt you." He gave a brief, pointed glance at the men, who glumly ignored the girl's hurried dressing.

There were shouts from the loft and the sound of someone falling to the floor below. A girl wailed "No!" and a man screamed in pain.

Thomas came out of the bedchamber to see his men finishing off a naked outlaw. There was a crash in the loft and another outlaw was thrown down the ladder, dead.

Fraser head appeared in the loft opening, and grinned. "There's two more down, sir. One of the brutes tried to throw the girl on my sword to protect himself, the dirty coward. She didna get more than a scratch, though. If someone will toss me up my carbine, I have a good field of fire from the window up here."

It was over fairly soon. The surviving four outlaws threw down their weapons and were rounded up to take back to camp. The women, hastily dressed in what they had, were gathered before Major Monroe, who promised that they would be returned to their homes.

"But sir," one of the frightened girls told him, "some of us don't have homes anymore. And some of us," she blushed, her hands uselessly trying to hide her condition, "wouldn't be welcome anymore."

"If you are willing to do honest work," Monroe reassured her, "you can be put on the payroll as cooks or laundresses." The men were pleased at the prospect of more women in the regiment, and some were already making friendly advances to the girls they had rescued. Thomas noticed that Fraser was solicitously bandaging the girl Becky.

The journey back to camp was uneventful. The outlaws were summarily tried and hanged by order of the Lord General. There was some difficulty in dealing with the locals' claims for a portion of the band's loot. Thomas was glad that he had nothing to do with that business. They were soon back on the march, richer for the food, powder, and women they had won.

Within two weeks, they made their way up the mountain trail, and stood on the windy heights, while the land beyond lay like a map before them.

Dinah had enjoyed the journey for the most part, and was sitting up in the front of the wagon, eagerly taking in the view at the top of Cumberland Gap. Little Ben was in her arms and she held him up to see as well.

Thomas rode up to share this with her, and said, "I feel like that part in the Bible, when Satan took Jesus up to the mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the earth."

"Well," said Dinah practically. "We don't need all the kingdoms of the earth. Kentucky will do just fine for us."

------

------

Sally Ferguson had been staggered by Scotland. The fine houses she knew were the white-painted or red brick mansions of the colonies. She had seen a few pictures of castles; but at her first sight of the real thing, she had stared in awe, her mouth a round O of wonder. She had wanted to see all of Edinburgh, and Pattie was thoroughly glad he had married such a brave and adventurous lass, for after a while, the strange food, the strange voices, and the distance from everything she had ever known began to take its toll.

His own family, and all the connections of Stirlings and Stuarts, thank God, had treated her well enough. He had written to them of her beauty and her fine fortune, and they were well pleased with both. Sally, in fact, was blooming like an exotic American flower. His mother, starved for grandchildren, and his spinster sisters were overjoyed at her condition, and touched her growing belly with the license of near relations.

All in all, he was very glad he had gone home. He had not seen his family in years. It was so important that they know and recognise Sally. It was equally important that she understand his background, his family, and how they had shaped him. Best of all, he had had a chance to see his mother again, and dear old Aunt Bettie. His mother had tried not to weep at what the war had done to him; but sometimes he would see her look at his arm, and then her eyes would redden, and she would look away.

Aunt Bettie, his mother told him, had been living only to see him again, and she died in July during their visit. They buried her in the kirk at Pitfour, and as they gathered, he looked with a stranger's objective eye at his aging, childless family.

It was curious. He had come from a large family himself, and yet his brothers and sisters had not a child amongst them. Two sisters never married, the other married but barren; his elder brother, the laird of Pitfour, never married himself. His other brothers had no children in wedlock either. During the visit to Pitfour, Sally seemed duly impressed. He did not speak of it to her, but he could see that she understood that any son of theirs would be his brother Jamie's heir.

Only once, on a chill and windy night, had he heard her sniffling to herself, as she lay sleepless beside him in the draughty bedchamber. He had turned to her, carefully arranging his maimed arm, and clasped her close with the other. "Sally, my dear—are you ill?"

She had tried to stifle her sobs, but she then she cuddled close, and choked out, "I miss Polly."

"Of course you do, dear lass. I know you were never apart before, but remember all my sisters are yours now, too."

It had taken some time and trouble to console her and lull her back to sleep. He missed Polly himself. It was a sorrow they must endure, and there was no help for it. With time, the pain would be less, but Polly would never be forgotten.

His family pleaded with him to stay for the child's birth, but Pattie, most reluctantly, had deemed it necessary to leave at the beginning of September. If they had waited for the birth, it would be December before Sally would have recovered enough for the voyage, and that would have meant sailing at the most dangerous time of year. Staying until spring was equally unwise: he would have to endure the damp and chill of a Scottish winter. They said their farewells, and had a rather choppy voyage home. When they disembarked at Charlestown harbour on October 27th, Sally had never been so happy as when she waddled forth onto dry land.

-----

Though November, it was a pleasantly mild day, and Tavington had gone fishing with George. The girls, even Julia, had proclaimed fishing dull and smelly, and were otherwise engaged in what George described as "female folderols," while the two of them sat quietly on the banks of the Black River. Tavington took a workmanlike pride in George. The boy was doing well, and though only twelve, was a pleasant companion for shooting and fishing. With the combined efforts of Elizabeth, Miss Temple, and himself, George had also made more of an effort with his studies, especially once he learned that Tavington liked reading, and could read Latin and Greek. My Latin's a great deal better than my Greek, though, Tavington thought ruefully. He had hated school himself, and subverted every attempt of the masters to teach him anything. Now George wanted help with his classics, and Tavington was relearning a great deal as he glanced over George's work. They would certainly have to send him to school at some point, if they could find a decent place. Perhaps DeLancey might know of one.

He had other concerns as well. He was still resolved never to own slaves, but hired help was a different matter from the huge workforce that Arcadia had once commanded. It would be some time before commerce flowed as smoothly as it had before the war, and Arcadia was far from making the profits it had in times past. They were experimenting with more efficient use of the labour at hand, and some different crops, and he was hopeful that they could solve the problems. Luckily, the price of tobacco had soared, which offset their reduced production.

George had a bite. The line moved, and something tugged at his fishing pole, bending it toward the river.

"Easy, George," Tavington encouraged quietly. With some coaching from Tavington, and a great deal of splashing in the slow green water, the boy was hauling in his prize, when they heard hoofbeats approaching.

Julia was on her grey pony, Quicksilver. Dressed in her habit and boots, she was an elegant sight, and knew it. She was leading her "troop," the three little Montgomery girls, on their own ponies. Tavington did not like to see them riding all alone, but permitted it as long as they did not leave the estate.

"Captain Julia!" he called, "What have you to report?"

She was waving a piece of paper at him, and called back as she trotted closer.

"You have a letter, Colonel! I knew you'd want it."

Tavington thanked her and took the sealed missive. The handwriting on the direction seemed familiar and he opened it with some interest.

"It's from Colonel Ferguson," he exclaimed with pleasure. "He and his wife have arrived in Charlestown and are at their house in Queen Street."

"Was Scotland wonderful?" asked Julia eagerly.

"Are we going to go see them?" asked George, in his turn.

Tavington smiled at Julia. "Apparently Scotland was quite wonderful, but they are happy to be settling into their own home." Turning to George, he said, "Yes, of course we shall see them. I'm glad they'll be back in time for Amelia's wedding." Sally probably won't be able to attend, he amended to himself. He would love for Pattie and Sally to come to Arcadia for an extended visit. He could talk it over with them in Charlestown. Sally was near her time, and probably would not be in a mood to stir herself very soon. Perhaps in a few months, she and the child would be well enough for a journey. Elizabeth adored meeting new babies.

They were leaving for Charlestown in a few days. Amelia and DeLancey were formally betrothed, and since she had turned seventeen in September, it seemed ridiculous to make them wait any longer. Colonel and Mrs. Tavington had given their blessing to the match. Elizabeth had asked her sister if she wanted to be married from Arcadia, but Amelia preferred an elaborate ceremony at St. Phillip's in Charlestown.

He and Elizabeth could not leave Arcadia at harvest time, and so late November had been chosen for the wedding. The women had done all they could to get Amelia's trousseau in order, but many fabrics and furbelows must be bought in the city. Tavington had arranged to rent a large house there for a month. Elizabeth did not grudge her sister the time or expense, but had remarked that "it would be a challenge."

In fact, it was an enormous undertaking, and would use many of the skills he had learned when moving troops in the Army. Taking the entire horde of women, children, servants, and their belongings required three carriages and a wagon, and would need several days to reach their destination. It could not be done without careful planning. Once in Charlestown, there would be dinners and a ball to host; and Amelia's notions about her wedding gown and Julia's bridesmaid's gown would require hiring professional dressmakers. The little Montgomery girls were all getting new gowns as well, and were looking forward to the festivities with the excitement of children not responsible for the success of said events.

They would see Elizabeth's cousin James Wilkins, too. He had written to them two months ago, telling them he had returned to Charlestown, and was settling his affairs before undertaking the restoration of his home, Greenwood. He would be visiting them in a few months; and they had heard, though other sources, that he was being detained in Charlestown by his pursuit of a lady. Tavington had abandoned his hopes for Wilkins and Charlotte Montgomery. Charlotte was quietly and happily settled at Arcadia now, devoted to all the little ones; and she seemed disinclined ever to marry again. Besides, Tavington had become attached to the children, and found the idea of entrusting them to someone else decidedly disagreeable.

He and George gathered up their tackle and their catch and began the walk back to the house, Julia and George's sisters keeping them company. They thumped up the front steps, and Phoebe, the housekeeper, watched them with narrowed eyes to make sure their mud-caked boots were removed before entering the house. Tavington indulged her. She was an excellent servant and needed to be something of a martinet to keep the house in order. She quickly spirited the fish away to the kitchen. He sent the children on to the upstairs nursery, and went to look for Elizabeth.

She was in the library, going over the account books . He brushed a dark curl from the nape of her neck before placing a kiss there. She pretended not to notice him, and went on scratching out her sums. Only an arch of her neck invited him to continue as he had begun. He pressed another more lingering kiss, and when this was ignored, he kissed her yet again, and licked her teasingly. She started, with a faint squeal, and blotted her figures.

"William, you savage!" She laughed, and set aside her pen, drawing him close for a kiss. "You smell like fish."

Tavington pulled a chair up, and looked over the numbers she had come up with. They were better than he had hoped. "I've been lazing about on a sunny river bank, while my wife slaves over the accounts. At least I am providing dinner today."

"What was in the letter?"

"Pattie is in Charlestown, safely arrived with Mrs. Ferguson. The child is due any day."

"Oh, the poor lady. I can't imagine what she endured being with child all those months at sea. They are well?"

"Pattie always says he is well. Perhaps they can visit in a few months."

"Yes, of course." She sighed. "They can have Amelia's room."

He kissed her again, and put his arm around her. "Amelia is going to be very happy. DeLancey treats her like a goddess, and his mother and sister adore her."

She rested her head on his shoulder. "Yes, I know all that—she's just so young, and she's seen so little of the world."

"Well, that's going to change. She's quite looking forward to seeing DeLancey's plantation in the Bahamas. A smooth voyage to the Caribbean, a month in the islands—she'll come back very much a woman of the world."

She gave him her sweet, ironic smile. "It's so like Stephen: combining his honeymoon with a business trip."

"She'll have a rich, prudent, cautious man."

"But I have my brilliant, reckless, brave one. And I know," she murmured, her lips brushing his jaw, "which is best."

-----

Ben Martin looked around the church. It was nearly bursting with family, friends and well-wishers. He had been touched and honoured by Stephen DeLancey's request to stand up with him at his wedding. His children were delighted at a trip to Charlestown, and the girls especially looked forward to attending Miss Wilde's wedding. Even more delightful, from their point of view, was the invitation to the ball two nights before. The Tavingtons were kind to invite his children, but no doubt felt they would be good company for their own charges. With the ball, dinner with the DeLanceys, and a very substantial wedding breakfast this morning, he had enjoyed more society than he had known for years. His children were having a wonderful time, and were renewing old friendships and making new ones.

He had finally met Amelia Wilde, the girl Thomas had written him about, and he had felt a pang of regret. She was a lovely, refined young lady, and reminded him a little of his own dear Elizabeth, gone now for so many years. She would have kept Thomas in South Carolina, no doubt. He had cast an appraising eye on the youngest Wilde girl, little Miss Julia. She was a remarkably pretty child, more like her elder sister than Miss Amelia, but still very pretty indeed, in spite of her dark hair and eyes. She would likely have the same five thousand pounds her sisters were said to have had, and was a spirited, lively thing. Perhaps someday Nathan or Sam could improve their acquaintance with her---no, it was pointless to try to predict the future. In the meantime, though, there was no harm in the children becoming friendly. The Tavingtons' wards, too, were a likely lot: the girls very blonde and dainty, the boys fine young fellows. The older one had inherited a good bit of land to the north west, and might do for Margaret---no, stop it, Ben: just because you're at a wedding, you need not marry off the whole world. The children's mother, Charlotte Montgomery, was a very pretty, very gentle woman herself, her shining hair set off by her mourning dress.

His own sister-in-law, another Charlotte, was at the wedding too; but not alone. Captain James Wilkins had returned to South Carolina, and had begun paying open court to her. Ben had never been close friends with Wilkins, but the man had been kind to Thomas when they were in the army together, and he felt an obligation to him for that. He hoped it would work out for the best. It would be unreasonable of him to expect Charlotte to care for his children, when she was young enough to have a family of her own. He had entertained some imaginings about her, but it would never do. Charlotte was Church of England, through and through, and marriage to her former brother-in-law was held to be incest.

Stephen was looking as nervous as he did the day they took back the Theodosia. Ben caught his eye and gave him an encouraging smile.

"Do you have the ring?" Stephen asked him anxiously.

"No," Ben told him. "You have it in your waistcoat pocket."

His friend searched the pocket in question, and heaved a sigh of relief. "Yes, I remember now." He held it briefly in his hand, and Ben glanced at it. It was quite a ring, and would provide the future Mrs. DeLancey with some exercise simply in lifting her hand. He repressed a grin and looked around a little more.

There was good old Mrs. DeLancey, and her daughter, the widowed Mrs. Pinckney. A nice woman, he knew, but too plain and quiet for his taste. There was Colonel Tavington's friend, the renowned Colonel Ferguson, clearly enjoying himself, as he chatted with one of the young Montgomery children. He had come to live in Charlestown with his wife. Rumour had it that there was some scandal about Mrs. Ferguson, but Tavington, Wilkins, and the rest of the military contingent were standing by their friend and not confirming any gossip. He had heard the lady was very beautiful, but she was not present, having given birth to a son a few days before.

Mrs. Tavington was there, of course, elegantly dressed. He had to admit she was a comely woman, though not of a type he particularly admired. He remembered the time he had visited Arcadia to go looking for waterfowl with her father the naturalist. John Wilde had made a point of introducing her to him, but the girl (and she could not have been more than twenty then) had plainly felt as little interest in him as he in her. She appeared extremely happy with Colonel Tavington and he wished them both well. There was another lady with her whom he had met at the Tavingtons' ball: a very attractive woman with luminous grey eyes and a serene air. She was the family governess, an Englishwoman named Miss Temple. Ben took another look at her. She was reported to be very accomplished and very good with children. He had seen something of that himself the other night. Mrs. Tavington thought highly of her, and had spread word of her virtues throughout her acquaintance in Charlestown.

Miss Wilde entered the church on the arm of her brother-in-law, and there was a rising murmur of approval and admiration. Her white satin wedding gown would be the talk of Charlestown and his own household for months, he predicted with resignation. He could see his own daughters were overcome with delight and awe at her pearls and lace. He smiled kindly: she looked like a fairy princess, and he was happy for his friend to have gained such a lovely young creature for his bride. Her younger sister, as bridesmaid, looked extremely pretty and fashionable too, in a rich cranberry-coloured satin.

It was a beautiful wedding, as all weddings should be. He thought of his own wedding, and of Gabriel's. Once again, he regretted not seeing Thomas married; and while the familiar ceremony progressed, he thought over the letter he had received, months on the way from Thomas in faraway Kentucky.

August 4, 1782

My dear father,

We are safely arrived in Kentucky, and have made a strong camp on the Ohio River. The Lord General is having the engineers lay out a town that is to be called Kingston. We will receive our land grant soon, and will be proud when he hold our patent from the Crown.

Your grandson, little Ben, is a very good baby, and has blue eyes like yours. He is already very strong and stout and has his mother's sweet nature. Everyone who sees him says what a fine boy he is, and they are not just being polite.

We had a few adventures on our way across North Carolina and going over Cumberland Gap. Mr Daniel Boone, the scout for the Transylvania Company, joined us around Wilkesboro and led us straight and sure through the mountains. He wanted to travel with us with his family, and make sure that he wouldn't lose his land in Kentucky. He also wanted us to clear out some robber bands that had been troubling the local people, and we did.

By this time next year we should have built a house of our own. Kentucky is a very fine land, and looks to be good for corn and tobacco. Major Monroe is planning on raising horses, and brought some good breeding stock from Virginia. The hunting and fishing is good here too. Dinah and I are well pleased here and feel we are very fortunate.

We think of you every day that we light the candles in our fine silver candlesticks. Dinah is so proud of them that she keeps them polished like mirrors. She also says thank you again for her cross.

My love and respect to you, father, and please give my love to all my brothers and sisters. Maybe they will want to come out to Kentucky one day. Maybe you will yourself. I know you would like it here.

I remain, sir, your most dutiful and loving son,

Thomas

Ben was brought back to reality as DeLancey fumbled in his pocket for the ring. He nearly dropped it, but in a few moments, it was safely adorning the new Mrs DeLancey's fair hand. The service was ending, and they turned around to leave. Ben Martin took another look at the congregation. Mrs. Tavington's smile was strained, and her husband looked rather reserved. Ben suspected he was as tired of the business as he himself would be in his place. One's own wedding was a memorable event, but other people's weddings, especially an enormous affair like this, were bound to be wearisome.

The weather had held, and the open carriage stood waiting for the happy couple. Flushed with the congratulations of the friends crowding around them, the two of them were finally able to break away and thank Ben for coming.

Ben bowed to the lady, and firmly shook DeLancey's hand.

"You will be very happy, I know."

"Thank you, my dear Martin," DeLancey said fervently. Smiling and happy, he looked ten years younger, and nearly handsome. Well, thought Ben wistfully, there's no fountain of youth like a beautiful and loving young girl.

Colonel and Mrs Tavington came to bid the newlyweds farewell: Mrs Tavington with kisses and whispers for the bride, the Colonel with discreetly veiled threats for the groom.

Ben found himself standing next to little Miss Julia, who was watching the proceedings with a jaundiced eye.

Without preamble, she asked him, "Do you like weddings?"

He was not sure what to say. His own children were still talking excitedly about the ceremony, the lady's clothes, and the soldiers' uniforms. He answered, "Well, I think your sister certainly had a fine one."

"I think I'll just run away and elope. Or maybe I'll be an old maid, like my Aunt Sarah Jane Minerva Everleigh. Everyone was scared of her. Except the Colonel, of course."

He laughed. "It will be different when you're the bride yourself."

"Maybe." She seemed skeptical. "But I only want to marry someone really wonderful. If I can't find someone like that, I just won't."

"Julia!" called a pleasant, English voice. "The carriages are waiting!"

"Coming, Miss Temple," the girl replied. She curtseyed gravely to Ben. "It's very nice meeting you, Captain Martin. I thought for awhile that Melly would marry your son, but she didn't and he went and married someone else. There's no accounting for people sometimes."

"No," he agreed, with a smile and a bow. "There isn't."

He heard the attractive voice say something just out of his hearing. He turned to have another look, but she had already gotten into the carriage; and his future wife was gone, for the moment.

-----

Elizabeth smiled as her little sister clambered into the carriage. "I saw you having a nice chat with Captain Martin."

"Yes, he's all right. I was talking about how we thought for a while that Melly would marry his son, but she didn't." George was in the carriage with them, and Tavington then joined them. His lips twitched at Julia's frankness. The carriage rumbled as they set off.

She went on. "Then I told him I might just elope when I get married."

Elizabeth laughed. "Oh, Julia! You didn't"

"Yes, I did. I hate seeing you all bothered to death with this wedding business. Melly's been going on for months about how this was 'her day' and fussing that everything had to be perfect. I'll just run off and get married. If I get married."

"Don't worry, Julia." George said generously. "If you can't catch anybody else, I'll marry you when we grow up."

Julia was horrified. "We can't get married, George Montgomery! Aunt Sarah Jane Minerva said that when cousins marry each other their children turn out cross-eyed and knock-kneed!"

"That very indelicate, Julia," Elizabeth reproved mildly. "Besides, don't you want me at your wedding?"

"I suppose," Julia agreed in a growl. "But I want it to be different."

Tavington grunted his approval. "That would be fine with me."

Elizabeth caught his eye, and she laid her hand affectionately on his.

"At least we can rest for a day or two, before we must pack and go back to Arcadia."

He nodded. "You and I are invited to dine with the Fergusons tomorrow."

Smiling, she replied, "How nice! We'll have another peep at their precious little Jamie. That child has the wisest eyes of any infant I've ever seen."

He gave her hand a squeeze. Only the two of them knew that a second little Tavington was on the way. Perhaps this would be the little Emma she wanted. If not this time, there was always the future.

The carriage drove on, as the horses trotted through the pleasant streets of Charlestown, on their way home.

-----

Notes: The song is The Trooper and the Maid, and can be heard at a wonderful site called For midi versions of numerous historical songs and ballads, this is a great resource. Since they have the midi versions, you can hear the tune as well as read the words. The song itself has several more verses.

I am aware that in our timeline, Ferguson's Aunt Betty died in March of 1781. However, since she did not have to suffer the news of his death, her departure from this life was somewhat postponed in my alternate universe.

Fictional Kingston is on the same site as Louisville.

Thank you to my kind reviewers:

SlytherinDragoon: Thanks! I had to take care of the girls.

Zubeneschamali: Yes, the characters are different when not seen through the filter of the hero's point of view. I had some fun playing around with this. And I did like dealing with domestic life. Still it was fun getting back into the action with this chapter.

Carnivalglass: Thank you-it is fun to put the same characters in different situations!

Pigeonsfromhell: I'm glad I didn't kill her off either. Thank you for your support.

LCWA: And here is that last big fight, as requested. Hope you enjoyed it!

Ladymarytavington: Thanks!

Carolina Girl: Thank you for your thoughtful review. Yes, I wanted to get Amelia's situation all settled. Sally and Polly are far apart, but as you say—who knows about the future?

"Would it please you to see the epilogue, or to hear a Bergomask dance….?"

News: I have created a Yahoo group, Arsinoe's Library, for original and fanfiction discussion and for classic reading (lots of links). If you're interested, check out the URL on my author page.