Love and War

Chapter III - A Bit Of A Bind

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The Green Dragoons were riding hard and fast back to the fort. They were anxious to get off the road and away from the mindless peasants that seemed to be closing in, suffocating them. Colonel Tavington, their leader and commanding officer, could not stand the Americans and their ideals of 'independence' and 'freedom'. After all, every flock needs its shepherd, eh?

At the moment, the officer in question was eager to have a decent meal and a soothing bath if possible. Life in the Carolina wilderness was not something he was accustomed too and he didn't care for it in the slightest. But, fate, it seemed, had a different plan for him.

Somewhere off the road, to the southern flank of the forest, he distinctly heard hoof beats, a whinny, and a female scream. Before he could raise his hand to stop the Dragoons, half of them had already halted, eager for something, anything, that would allow them to stretch their legs, stiff from hours of riding all over the Carolina wilds. Tavington had half a mind to have them all whipped for their assumption that he would deem this matter worthy of the Dragoons, but the fact that he did deem it worthy stayed his hand. For the moment.

"Dragoons!" he yelled, his voice clipped and aristocratic. "Dismount!" There was a rustling of coats and the jingling of buttons and horse tack as Tavington's men vaulted off their horses. "Search the woods." Tavington was precise, saying only what needed to be said.

There was a collective mutter of a number of variations of 'Yes, sir,' as the lower officers strayed from the road, fanning out among the trees as they searched for the source of the scream. Their red uniforms stood out among the green of the forest, making them easy to spot.

"Captain Wilkins," Tavington added sharply, glancing sidelong at the man in question. "Accompany them."

Wilkins nodded, "Yes, sir." He dismounted and followed the other officers into the woods.

Suddenly, there was a low din of voices, muffled by the trees and the distance between the remaining Dragoons and the road. "Colonel!" an officer with a heavy Scottish accent called. Tavington shifted his body sharply, making sure to keep his horse in check. He could see the officer making his way through the trees, followed by a small cluster of redcoats.

"What have you found?" he demanded, his face remaining stoic and eyes and icy blue. He seemed bored with the situation already.

The Scotsman made his way from the underbrush to the road, leading the cluster of officers up to the colonel. "A girl, sir." Behind him, two redcoats were carrying the unconscious body of Marion Foster towards their commanding officer.

Tavington simply narrowed his eyes, taking in the girl's dirtied clothes, mussed hair and the bruise purpling over her left eye. He didn't miss that, despite the simplicity and modest nature of her clothing, it was obviously finely made. "Wilkins?"

Wilkins stepped out from behind the two officers carrying Marion, "Yes, sir," he replied promptly, ever the dutiful lapdog.

"Did you find anything else?"

"Yes, sir. She was unconscious when Herring found her. It seems has sustained a minor blow to the head. We don't know how long she's been out here, sir."

Tavington refrained from rolling his eyes and simply clenched his teeth. "Anything else, Captain?" His horse shifted, obviously bored from the lack of activity. Secretly, Tavington didn't blame the creature.

"There was some rope nearby. She may have been tied up and beaten. Savages, perhaps," Wilkins answered, trying to redeem himself.

His superior officer, however, was still not satisfied. "In these parts? I doubt it, Captain." He blinked placidly, literally looking down on his subordinate. "Possibly escaped slaves, or some local ruffians or militia looking for a bit of fun." He spat out the word like a bad taste, his eyes finally resting on the girl.

Obviously society. The smooth hands and skin, gently curling hair, pale complexion (not for lack of trying on her part, it seemed). It was a fair bet she was from one of the old Loyalist families, the Daniels, or even the Hewletts. Caught unawares and totally defenseless. Monsters.

"And these tracks, Captain," Tavington said after a moment of surveying her. He pointed to the beaten road where a set of hoof prints trailed off the road and into the woods. The colonel couldn't help speaking with the smallest smirk, "What exactly do you make of these?"

Marion expected to wake to singing birds and soft sunshine. Instead, she found herself confined to a bed laden with ruffles and silk with a thick bandage swathed around her head. She saw stars for a moment as she tried to sit up, but once her eyes focused she found herself in a room not unalike her own back on the plantation. The view, however, was quite different.

She was obviously in a military fort of some kind. The windows to her left offered a plan view of the barracks, and past them white tents set up on the rolling green hills of Carolina plain. She could hear men drilling in the yard and didn't miss the telltale British accent that accompanied every order. Marion would have screamed in frustration, had voices not come within earshot outside her door.

"My lord, I don't see the reason behind harboring her. We should find her family and send her back immediately," the first voice said. Marion could tell that there was more than one thing irritating him at the moment, herself included.

"Colonel, she is unconscious. Do you expect her to answer your interrogation?" a second voice replied. This man was more levelheaded and collected as he spoke, each word thought upon. If the first man was a colonel, he was certainly a general.

"Women and their fainting spells. A good splash with some water will wake her." Marion immediately crossed her arms in a huff, furrowing her brow. Whoever this colonel was, he was not very nice.

There was a sputtering for a moment as the general lost his cool for a moment. "Tavington, she is a lady. We cannot simply douse her with water. It would be improper and a dreadful mark on our reputation." By our, Marion assumed he meant the British Army. "We cannot allow ourselves to stoop to the level of the Continentals. There must be a thick line of separation between ourselves and those uncivilized beasts."

Tavington. Somewhere in the back of her mind, the name rang a bell. Maybe it was her throbbing headache, but Marion couldn't seem to place it. She settled for listening to more of the conversation.

"But my lord, we could be doing more to speed this process along," Tavington argued, and Marion could hear the frustration in his voice. He obviously thought himself superior to this general, despite his lower rank.

The general sighed loudly before answering. "You must learn patience, Colonel. Good things do come with time."

Tavington made a noise that sounded like a snort, but suddenly his tone went from haughty to patronize. "Of course, my lord. I am merely suggesting we check to make sure the young lady has not awoken. How strange it must be to wake up in an unfamiliar place." Marion would have burst out laughing if not for the circumstances. This Tavington was a bit odd, to say the least.

Her smile faded as she heard the squeak of the door handle being turned. Marion winced as she flung herself back into the pillows, falling into what appeared to be a common sleeping position.

She heard the door open, gliding across the wood floor, and could sense someone hesitate. It was Tavington and he lingered in the doorway, his gentleman's sense nagging at his brain. It was not proper to enter a young woman's quarters. But he heard the general, Cornwallis, clear his throat from behind him, and he pushed all propriety to the back of his mind. He took a step into the room, his soldier's sense taking in everything.

"See," Cornwallis hissed, "She's still unconscious. Now, we should leave her be and question her later." But Tavington wasn't satisfied.

He took another step forward, ice eyes narrowed and hands clasped tightly behind his back. Tavington cleared his throat loudly and smirked when he saw her eyelids fluttered as she nearly flinched. This girl was feigning sleep, but why he did not know.

Tavington was quite sure it was neither slaves nor men who left her unconscious in the woods. The rope was obviously for tying up a horse that had long since run away from its mistress. But why a woman of her stature was so far from home was still a mystery. And the reason why she was feigning sleep was as well.

The colonel cleared his throat again, "Miss?" he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. Behind him, Cornwallis pursed his lips, gesturing madly for them to leave. "Miss?" he repeated, this time his voice louder and more irritated.

Marion shifted her body, as if coming out of a deep sleep and yawned. "Bring my breakfast, Maggie," she muttered, arching her back as she stretched, hoping her little act was convincing enough. She blinked, opening her eyes, and saw the men who belonged to the two voices. "Oh my," she managed to say.

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