Chapter Eighteen


Disclaimer: I don't own anything except for Patricia Kellings and her friend, Lark.


A/N: Here's where it gets awesome! You'd all better review for this chappie, it's the best one! This one is pretty long... 9 pages on my WordPerfect. A sexual scene here, too.


She needed to stop loving Tavington.

That was all that clogged Patricia's mind that day.

She need to stop.

Too many people had already told her it was a bad thing. Her good friend Lark, Cornwallis, Lady Cardian... and Tavington. Or, at least he showed he didn't want her.

She needed to make herself stop.

For the whole day, she kept trying to imagine what it would be like if Tavington and her had a future together. And she couldn't see it.

And, that pained her most of all. It wasn't going to happen, and she knew it. She didn't need anyone to tell her or lie to her about it. It was written in stone, and no amount of hope would change it.

After three days of feeling this pain, she became depressed.

Lord Cornwallis announced that, since the British were going to be leaving America and sailing back to England in a few days' time, he wanted to have one last dinner party here in his name. It was mandatory, so Patricia knew Tavington, and Lady Cardian, would be there. Reluctantly, she went.

When she arrived in the Red Soldier, one of the biggest loyalist manors in the country, she saw the colonel and Lady Cardian. They were holding wine glasses and talking. Tavington was looking up into the cool night sky, and Lady Cardian was playfully pushing his shoulder, and they both laughed.

She stepped out of the carriage. Tonight, the servants in the manor would be the ones doing the work. She, along with the other servants, would have the night to spend dining and partying. The ones under Cornwallis, that was.

She was wearing her best dress, which was also, possibly the worst there. It was ripped, tattered, and small. Her cheeks turned red as she saw all the fancy women giggling at it.

Tavington glanced at her, but kept talking to Cardian. Cardian followed his gaze, and saw her. Patricia ran inside.

She poured herself a glass of French Champagne and went to the buffet table, where she saw some of the most delicious looking foods she'd ever seen. While on line, someone bumped into her. She turned, and saw Tavington.

"Oh, pardon me," he said, actually apologizing, and tried to get away from the large crowd of people flocking to the food.

She zoned out, watching him walk off into the crowd. It seemed everything was going in slow motion.

She wanted to call for him to come back, to tell him to wait, but she didn't. She remembered what everyone had told her...

"Stay away from William."

"This is the most disgraceful thing I've seen for years!"

"You don't know what you're getting yourself into..."

Those thoughts haunted her, day and night. So she needed to stop and listen to them.

Lark came up to her. "Hey, how's it going?" she asked, very casually. Patricia forced a smile and sighed. "It could be better, trust me," she said. Lark frowned. "Aww, well, I hope you cheer up. Hey, guess what!"

"What?"

"Remember how I said a soldier was calling on me?" she asked. Patricia thought, then said, "Oh! Is he here?"

"Of course he is!"

"Please, introduce me!"

Out from behind Lark stepped O'Hara. Patricia's face dropped like a stone.

O'Hara smiled and shook her hand. "It's nice to see you again, Patricia" he said. Lark looked at both of them. "You know each other?" she asked. O'Hara nodded.

"I was the one who picked her up and carried her back to the fort when Colonel Tavington wounded her," he said.

"Really?" asked Patricia. She had, after all, blacked out, and only felt someone grabbing her.

Suddenly, Tavington and Lady Cardian walked over. "Did I hear my name?" the colonel asked.

Lark shook hands with Lady Cardian, and O'Hara said, "Oh, hello Colonel, we were just talking about how Patricia came to be here."

Tavington locked eyes with Patricia for a few seconds before saying, "Ah."

Lady Cardian made no contact with her whatsoever.

The little group, O'Hara, Lark, Patricia, Lady Cardian, and Tavington, made their way over to an outside table. They all sat, drank, and chatted. Patricia sat next to Tavington on her right, and Lark on her left. At the head sat O'Hara, and Lady Cardian sat across from Tavington.

"Mind if I join you?" asked a voice, and they looked up to see Bordon.

So the seating changed. On one side, in this order, sat Lark, Patricia and Tavington. On the other, in this order, sat O'Hara, Bordon and Lady Cardian. They all sat across from their partners, except for Bordon and Patricia, who barely knew each other.

(Me: That's because I don't like Bordon! HA! HAHAHAHAHA!)

Then, the servants came around. They served up roasted turkey, wine, pork, corn, anything you could possibly think of. The other outside tables around them were all digging in.

Patricia decided to start a conversation, if she could. "Did anyone hear about that man, the ghost?"

Tavington stopped eating, and so did O'Hara and Bordon.

"I've heard about him," said Lark, "He's a violent brute who killed over twenty of His Majesty's soldiers."

"I know who he is," Patricia said, "But did anyone hear the latest about him?"

"I'm afraid to ask," said O'Hara.

Patricia paused.

"He's dead."

The table flew into an uproar.

"What?"

"He's dead?"

"When did he kick it?"

"How?"

"How do you know?"

"Huzzah!"

Tavington tapped her on the shoulder. "How did the bastard die?" he asked, "On the wrong end of a musket, I hope."

Patricia shook her head. "Doctors don't know why he died. They say it had something to do with all the blood from the soldiers he hacked up, he got an infection." She smiled. "He deserved it."

Bordon nodded. "That he did," he said, "I just wish I could've been there to see the brute go."

Tavington laughed. "Give him a kick or two."

The table erupted into laughter from all sides. After that, they finished eating their dinner and desert. The only thing left was to drink and go back home.

At about 11:35, they all started to disperse. Bordon went first, then O'Hara and Lark. Only Patricia, Tavington, and Lady Cardian were there. Cardian tapped Tavington on the shoulder and whispered into his ear, "I think it's time to go."

They stood up, and Tavington said goodnight to Patricia.

As they left, she felt a surge of happiness. She had been accepted.

That night, as she got ready for bed, she wanted to see Tavington. To thank him for not acting like Lady Cardian had. That was plenty to be thankful for, no?

As she walked down the hall, though, she had a sudden feeling of dread.

Something was terribly wrong.

She shouldn't be down here.

She should turn around right away and spare herself the misery.

Why was she still going?

Turn around - NOW.

Patricia turned around, and was scared, although nothing was there. There was a foreboding sense around Tavington's room, and it weighed heavily on her shoulders if she should go in or not.

She put her ear up to his door and listened. Silence.

She put her hand on the doorknob, and apparently, he had forgotten to lock it, because, without a sound, it swung open.

She didn't want to make a noise, in case he was sleeping.

But he wasn't sleeping.

Oh, no.

She froze as she witnessed what she never wanted to ever see again. The image was burned into her hear, and for the rest of her life, it haunted her.

Tavington was passionately kissing Lady Cardian, who was doing the same. They were standing towards the far corner of the room and didn't notice Patricia had entered.

Tavington was being pressed backwards by Lady Cardian's surprising strength, and walking backwards, he bumped into a chair. He seemed to ignore it as he pushed it over with his fingers, his other hand still on Lady Cardian's waist.

"Mmm..." he muttered, and the Lady sighed gently.

Patricia felt as though she were in a nightmare. Her legs were shaky, and as she turned to run out, she almost wobbled over. She didn't want to see anymore. She let the door slam behind her, not caring if they heard. And honestly, she wanted them to.

As she ran down the hall, she heard the door open, and she heard footsteps.

"Patricia?" Tavington asked, his hair out of his braid.

Patricia kept running, and when she reached her room, she closed the door and jumped on her bed, crying. Why hadn't she listened to her mind before she went?

She heard Tavington come in.

"Patricia?" he asked, his tone unchanging.

She looked at him, with fierce eyes and tears streaming down her face, as she had been looking when he shot Eric.

"Get away! I saw you," she yelled at him.

Tavington didn't say anything, but stood at the foot of her bed.

"I know you did," he said.

Patricia didn't say anything.

Tavington paused for a moment, trying to find words. "You see.. .Lady Cardian... is my fiancé. We're wed on... April 17th."

The words did more damage then a cannonball could've ever done.

Patricia stared at him, in shock. No matter how many unnecessary tortures or murders he had done, this blow was the worst.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" she asked, tears falling freely.

Tavington sighed. "I didn't consider you my friend... until recently. I wanted to use it against you... but I'm sorry."

Patricia looked him in the eyes. "Go to hell" she whispered.

Tavington gave a weak laugh. "I probably will."

"I hope you do."

"Yes, well..."

His eyes, they were beautiful, cutting into her like a knife. They seemed to change from green to blue to gray at different times. "I hope you can forgive me."

Patricia said nothing.

"Please, let me tell you; If it had not been Lady Cardian, it would've been you." There was pure honesty in his words.

But Patricia was dissatisfied. "I hate being second, and I won't be a second for you!"

Tavington shrugged, kind of sadly. "Then all I can offer you is my friendship."

He held out his hand to her.

And, she realized, she needed to make a choice. Being second, or losing Tavington forever.

She looked at his hand.

And did nothing.

His cold, cruel tone returned when he said, "Then I will leave you, with everything we've built up gone. Goodbye, Patricia Kellings."

And with the slam of a door, he left.