Chapter Twenty


Disclaimer: I own nothing but Patricia and Lark


A/N: This is the last chapter, and depending how this goes, I might write a sequel. A few more sexual scenes in this one, and this time, you can tell they are sexual ;;. More mentions o' suicide. I'm so sad it's over!


Colonel Tavington awoke early that next day. He lay, staring. Finally, getting up, he dragged himself outside.

Immediately, O'Hara came up to him.

"Bad news, Colonel." He sounded extremely upset.

"What is it?"

"It's about Patricia."

"What? Is something wrong?"

O'Hara looked at him. "I'm going to be frank with you, colonel. She's dead."

Bam.

An emotional bullet hit Tavington in the chest and killed him.

"No.." he whispered, and a sudden fire danced in his eyes. It began to burn. "No...!"

He grabbed a picture from off the wall and threw it. Grabbing tables, chairs, anything moveable he could get his hands on, he began throwing and breaking and smashing. The sound of glass breaking and wood snapping sent soldiers from their dorms to grab Tavington and restrain him.

Lark came running up to O'Hara, tears streaming down her face. He wrapped his shoulder around her and held her as she began sobbing, burying her face in his chest.

When Tavington began to calm down, he asked, "How? How did she die?"

Lark looked regretfully at him and said, "It was because of you. Suicide."

Tavington felt the guilt eating him. It had been him. His fault. Now, he'd have to live with it.

But, why, though? Hadn't she been the one who didn't want to be his friend? Hadn't she been the one who denied his hand?

So, why was it his fault?

He held his head in one of his hands, as the first tears he'd had for years began to fall.

"Come on, colonel," O'Hara said, patting him on the back reassuringly, and leading him down the stairs, "It'll be ok."

"She didn't take my hand," was all Tavington could say.

"She didn't take my hand."

O'Hara led Tavington down to Patricia's old room. Going inside, he handed him a piece of paper. "This was her letter to you," he said, sadly. Lark began to cry again.

The paper read:

Dearest William Tavington,

I am very sorry for what I have to do. If you are reading this, I am at rest. Please, do not feel bad or cry, if you are at all. What I did was wrong. Yes, I was the one who didn't want to be your friend, and for that, look where I have ended up. I never want you to blame yourself. I still love you. And, even though I know I can never replace Lady Cardian, I pray that you hold a spot in your heart for me. As my last wish. After all, all I ever got from you was a kiss, and I am unsatisfied.

Our little spat last night made me feel horrible. It was cruel what you did to me, and I was cruel in my own way. Even now, I still am sorry for making you feel pain. But I am at rest knowing I fell in love with, and died loving, Colonel Tavington of the Green Dragoons. I apologize for everything, William, and I hope one day I can see you again. Because if I couldn't, then I know I'd be in Hell. I love you always, and I never want you to forget that.

With love,

Patricia Kellings.

"This was included in her note," said O'Hara, and reached into his pocket.

He handed Tavington two pounds.


The colonel stood in his room, combing his hair, silent. Lady Cardian sat on his bed, looking at herself in a hand-mirror.

"Are you almost ready to go?" she called to him. He closed his eyes and sighed. They were finally going to leave for England.

"Almost," he called.

She could sense the tone in her fiance's voice, and she knew what was wrong. Walking over to him, she wrapped an arm around his shoulder and took his face in her hand, forcing him to look at her.

"Something wrong, love?" she asked, knowing already what it was. And by knowing, she grew jealous. "Don't you love me anymore? Or have I competition?"

He rolled his eyes. "No, there is none..." he said, brushing off his suit.

Her grey eyes cut into him as she said, "Then show me."

He looked at her, and there was a pause. Then he kissed her throat, feeling the tiny pulse on his lips.

"Are you kidding?" Lady Cardian asked, a seductive smile on her face. She sat down. Tavington turned around to the full body mirror again. "Not now, Sarah," he said, keeping his eyes low.

Sarah pulled him onto the bed, and looked down at him. She straddled him. He lay there, watching her. He did nothing. He simply... wasn't in the mood.

She kissed him. "You need to let this pass," she said, unbuttoning his shirt as she did. She began kissing his neck, and down his shoulder.

He stopped her.

She looked down at him, and than at his hand that had stopped hers.

Looking her straight in the eye and with a low voice, he said, "This isn't fair."

"Oh, honey, don't be like that-" she said, starting to open the shirt again, revealing a nice, white, ruffly shirt underneath that.

This time, with more firmness in his voice, he grabbed her hand and said, "This isn't fair."

More cold eyes from Sarah. "Tell me, then," she said.

"Fair to who?"

There was a deathly silence, and Lady Cardian got off of him. She sat on the side of the bed.

"Who?"


He sat straight up, breathing rapidly, his bare chest cold. It was dark.

'It had all... been a dream?' he thought, reassuring himself.

He felt someone wrapping their arms around him from behind, he looked over to see... Patricia.

"Dearest, what's wrong?" she asked, wrapping herself up to her shoulders in the sheet.

She sat up, and he looked at her, watching every movement she made.

"I had a horrible nightmare..." he said.

Patricia raised an eyebrow. "Was it about Lady Cardian?" she asked, suspicious. Tavington shook his head.

"It was about you."

She pouted. "I'm not that bad, am I?" she asked, and kicked him. He laughed quietly. "No, no you are not. You're horrible."

Patricia kicked him again, and he laughed lightly.

"Go back to sleep," she said.

Following his lover's orders, he lay back, his head resting on his pillow. He thought about what he had done earlier.


Flashbacks


He had ran down the hill, dashing inside up to Patricia's room, where he had found her, about to jump.

"You crazy woman," he breathed, worry hidden in his mind, "You wouldn't..."

She looked at him curiously. "I love you so much..." Her voice was emotionless.

Tavington grabbed her shoulder as she stepped up to the windowsill. "Patricia, there is one thing I'll ever ask you," he said, not looking straight at her, "And that is that you will please think about what you are doing."

She looked at him again. There was silence as the words almost echoed in the room.

"I wrote a poem," she said, in an eerie kind of way.

She took his hand and stepped down.

Tavington breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you..." he muttered.

The light that had once been there entered Patricia's eyes again. "Do you want to hear it?" she asked, her voice un-zombie-like.

"I'd like nothing more."

And as she recited the words, Tavington leaned over and kissed her. She stopped, and whispered, "I love you."

They looked at each other, and Patricia leaned foward, when Lady Cardian burst in. She stopped and stared at the two, who were on the verge of, as Americans call it, 'making out.' She stared, then ran over and slapped the colonel.

"The wedding is off!" she screamed.

To this, he responded, "That's just what I was about to say."

Lady Cardian looked shocked. "You... love this servant girl more then me?"

Tavington sighed. "I loved you once. But you have changed, and I'm afraid it's for the worst."

He patted her on the shoulder, and she began to cry. "I love you," she said, through tears. Tavington looked at her.

Knowing he was going to regret this later, he said, "Then you should've showed me."

And she was gone.


End Flashbacks


He and Patricia would make their wedding in August.

He rolled over, facing away from her. She absentmindedly began stroking his back. "You know," she said, "You haven't kissed me like you kissed Sarah."

They both sat up.

"I haven't?" asked Tavington, his famous, sly, grin coming on to his face.

Patricia shook her head.

Tavington eyed her. "Do you want me to?"

Patricia gave him the 'Wow, that was incredibly naive,' look. (;)

There was a pause, before he took her head in his hands and stared at her.

"Get ready."

"I've always been."


A/N: Was that not the best ever? Please, please, please review! Ask me any questions! Also, I will be posting the poem she recited separately. Look for it soon! Tanks so much!