When they arrived, the house was already engulfed in flames. The redcoats had assembled Mary, Scarlett and little Delilah on the lawn. All others were presumed dead.
"Stay behind the gate." Mrs. Abbott told the boys. "When I give the signal, build a line of defense across the road." When they dispersed, Mrs. Abbott turned her attention to Annabelle. "Miss Casey, it's no mystery that you've always been the town's bona fide talker. I'm going to need you to help me negotiate."
She wanted to respond, but the lump in her throat that she'd been fighting all morning combined with the inhalation of smoke made talking difficult. A rare occurrence for Annabelle. "Harold." She began, fighting against a strong current of emotions. "Harold is gone. And they killed those boys."
There was a brief flash of remorse across Mrs. Abbott's face, but nothing more. She reached into her saddlebag and presented Annabelle with a musket. "If worse comes to worse and you have to shoot-"
"I can't. That's why I needed your help in the first place."
"Believe it or not, you can't talk your way out of everything." She continued to extend the musket until Annabelle took it and together, they rode forward onto the lawn.
"Colonel?" Annabelle called as she approached them.
He turned, clearly irritated by her intrusion. "What did I tell you last time!?"
"Colonel, this is Molly Abbott." She moved the musket in her hand so that the side of it rested across her chest in a gesture of introduction, parlay and warning all at once. "I am Annabelle Casey. The two girls down there are my sisters, Scarlett and Delilah and the woman who owns this home is Mary Whitley." Her eyes moved to the three who looked on with confusion and fear.
"What are you doing?" Mary snapped. "They've just set fire to my home!"
"And yourself?" Annabelle continued. "What is your name? Your men? I, for one, am of the opinion that we should get to know one another so we can properly discuss what has happened here this morning."
Without any further hesitation, the dark-haired Colonel pulled a musket from his side and took aim. Annabelle kept her musket laid with its side, pressed against her chest.
"I've read about you British soldiers." Annabelle said.
Everyone surrounding them seemed to take a simultaneous gasp, surely, she was about to talk herself to death. Mrs. Abbott's eyes moved to the other soldiers. They were watching her intently, anticipating her next move.
"You are supposed to be gentlemen. Negotiators." Brave little Annabelle continued. "Now, I demand answers. And so does Mrs. Whitley."
His face remained the very much same, but there appeared to be a change behind his eyes, as though the beast within them had been temporarily restrained. "It's quite simple, Miss Casey. Your friend provided care to a spy and received the appropriate punishment. Now, if you continue to waste my time with your stupidity-"
Suddenly, there came a sound from behind the gate. The Colonel gestured for one of his men to investigate its source. He returned not a moment later. "It would appear as though they were planning an ambush, Colonel Tavington."
His mouth twitched. "An ambush? Really? In that case, round them up and shoot them in the corral." He turned to Annabelle who hadn't moved or prepared to fire. "Except this one. I'd much rather her live with the remorse."
Of course, she was mortified when she heard his wicked plan. Of course. Even his men appeared to disagree with his reasoning. She could see them seizing Mrs. Abbott from her horse and marching Mary and her disbelieving sisters away in her periphery.
"I didn't quite specify, Sir." The soldier continued as he ushered the adolescent boys out from behind the gate. "Perhaps ambush was a bit too strong of a word…"
Colonel Tavington looked, but wasn't affected in the least. "My order stands."
"Tavington?" Annabelle thought aloud with a nod. "So, you do have a name..."
He sighed. "I'm fixing to have your loved ones shot down like dogs and you're still talking!?"
"I will admit that I'm rather surprised, Colonel Tavington, to put the name to the face. I've heard whispers about town that you're quite the tyrant. When last we spoke, I was under the impression that you liked literature and poetry… and… fireflies among other silly things…"
They were entirely alone at this point, everyone else had moved to the corral. If she was going to persuade him, she'd have to do it quickly. She continued to watch him, seeking any indication of change in his demeanor.
"I know you believe that you are performing your duty," she continued, "but the murder of innocents…"
His gaze remained cold. She was out of solutions. She knew that she could say no more. It was not until the first shot rang out from behind the house and he saw the realization in young Annabelle's face, the terror in knowing that she had lost everything all in one day, that she finally glimpsed a change in him. Those terrible eyes seemed to have a veil lifted from them. There was nothing else that he could hide behind and with every shot that was fired, they became more and more vulnerable.
"You can still ask them to hold fire. Please!" She begged him, looking straight past his mask and into his soul.
Feeling invaded, Tavington looked away, occupying his eyes on the burning house and repeated, "My order stands."
"That is my family! Look at me!" She demanded but to no avail. "That's my family!"
Several more shots were fired. Then a chilling silence consumed the lawn. The weight of the pain that Annabelle felt was debilitating. She wanted so badly to allow herself to give into it- to finally allow herself to cry. But her desire to have one more glimpse the remorse he felt for what he had done- was somehow greater in that moment.
"Gather the horses!" He called to his men before moving his gaze to Annabelle, but daring not to look her in the eyes. "I will be having yours too, Miss. Keep your musket. And Godspeed."
"I know sorrow when I see it..." Annabelle mumbled as she dismounted. "The day that you let that part of you go, you will truly be a monster."
Tavington forced what appeared to be a laugh. She didn't know it at the time, but it was more of a tactic to alleviate the sorrow that Annabelle had spoken of. As she handed him the reins, he reached into his saddlebag and removed a brown leather book.
"For keeping those words of yours at bay." He said, still avoiding her gaze. He then coaxed the horses forward before she could say another word, leaving Annabelle once again, to watch him ride away and feeling overcome with an entirely new sensation. It would come to be the most painful pairing of emotions that she would ever harbor: a toxic infusion of the love for him that was already planted in her heart and unyielding hatred.
Author's note: Guest- thank you for the question! Since there's no PM option, I'll go ahead and answer it here. He did not recognize Annabelle in the previous chapter. In the staircase scene, she is nothing more than a roadblock. I'm approaching Tavington as a character who exists on two plains of consciousness. There are a couple of scenes in the film where we see him switch in and out of his role as "The Butcher" and I wanted to expand on that. Since she was standing between "The Butcher" and what he is hunting, all that he can see is red. Hopefully, the "veil" metaphor in this chapter helped clarify things. Hopefully. Lol. If you have any more questions down the line, please don't hesitate to ask. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing my story, I appreciate it more than words can express! -L.S.