Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to The Patriot. I don't mind.
Chapter 15: A New Accomplishment
Jane had no idea when her husband returned to the house. Her eyes opened, as she became aware of a warm and heavy arm draped over her, and a very masculine body occupying most of the bed. The morning sun slanted into her east window, already at a steep angle. It was past time for her to be up and about her duties. Inch by inch, she slid out from between the sheets, and drew the curtains around the sleeping man.
Letty came in, and Jane, with a warning finger to her lips, cautioned her to silence. Without a word, Letty laced her into her stays, and helped her dress in the gown of the day. Jane sat at the dressing table so Letty could undo the curling rags, and see the state of Jane's hair.
Tavington slept through it all. He was snoring softly again. Jane began to find it a little funny, and in the mirror she saw that Letty's lips were twitching in merriment. From time to time the snoring grew louder, and the two girls would pause in their hairdressing, on the verge of laughter. Finally, there was a loud snort, and then the snoring stopped. Tavington's voice, muzzy with sleep, croaked, "Good God. What is the time?"
"Nearly nine, Colonel. I was just going down to breakfast, as soon as Letty finishes with my hair." She hoped he was awake enough to hear that Letty was in the room, lest he emerge prematurely from the curtained bed.
"Not that I wish to injure the delicacy of either you or your maid, but I would very much appreciate someone handing me my clothes."
There was a little hunting and a little bustle, while Jane and Letty sought out clean linen and a uniform. Jane walked around to the other side of the bed, and presented the clothing to Tavington, who was sliding out on the side away from Letty, tousled, heavy-eyed, and naked.
"Thank you, Jane." He glanced up and saw that her hair was brushed and curled, but not yet arranged up and under a cap. The curls were loose on her shoulders and down her back. "That's a very pretty way to wear your hair."
She laughed. "A very improper way to go about, as if I were a little girl."
"No," he said, smiling. "I like it. It's very nice. Someday, when you are no longer worried about what everyone in this house thinks, you should wear it like that all day."
She shook her head, embarrassed, and left him to dress. Letty set to work once more, and the hair was bestowed quickly under an elegant gauze cap, trimmed with lace and rose-pink ribbons. By the time Tavington was dressed enough to emerge, Letty was finished and had slipped from the room.
Tavington rolled his eyes. "You'd think I was about to bite her. I've told the girl she has nothing to fear from me, but she plainly doesn't take me at my word."
"You must give her time."
"Like mistress, like maid."
Embarrassed, she looked away, but she did not leave for breakfast, preferring to watch her husband at his toilette. The way he fearlessly handled the razor fascinated her. Sharp as it was, it made her shiver to imagine it near her own skin, but Tavington thought nothing of it. The little scratching, hissing noises of blade cutting off the stiff hairs soon stopped, and the razor was rinsed in the wash water. He splashed his face, and Jane handed him the towel. She reached for his brush, hoping he would permit her to see to his hair. It seemed he would; and he sat at the dressing table, while she brushed out the dark tangles.
"I hope you did not have to stay up very late last night, " she remarked. "I did not hear you come in."
"Good. I was doing my best not to disturb you. We were at it until past four. As I thought, the ship was attacked by a band of rebels. They stole some uniforms and sneaked aboard the vessel. Half a dozen sailors were killed and another dozen wounded."
"How horrible. The Navy must be more careful."
A sardonic laugh. "Not the Navy, Jane. I must be more careful. The Lord General tore strips off me for the affair."
"You! But that is absurd. How could it possibly be your fault?"
"Oh, it isn't my fault. However, Cornwallis doesn't want to lose the goodwill of the senior service. It is more convenient to lay everything at my door. My commander was particularly put out because I had had the arms unloaded first, leaving his personal possessions—mainly clothing-- for later. Those were destroyed with the ship."
"That's absurd. Even I know that arms and ammunition are more important than clothes, and I'm a perfect fool about military things."
His smile sweetened. "Hardly a perfect fool."
"An imperfect fool, then. And I think—"
He was laughing now, amused and pleased, and he caught her chin with a fingertip, bringing her face down to his. His lips pressed hers softly in a quick kiss. "Not any sort of fool, my Jane. You're quite a sensible girl. It's one of your chief charms." He nodded approvingly at her work with his hair, and reached for his coatee.
Thinking this a favorable moment to introduce the subject uppermost in her mind, Jane asked, "Have you given any more thought to my staying with my cousin Mary?"
Tavington's relaxed expression abruptly changed. He frowned, becoming instantly the condescending being who so vexed Jane. "There seems little need to consider the matter further. After last night, I would be mad to permit it."
"Oh!" Jane could have cried with disappointment. "Please—"
"No!" He cut her off firmly. "I don't want to hear another word about it. I'm not going to let you risk yourself in a household full of unprotected women. The subject is closed. Let us go down to breakfast, and plague your father."
-----
He was not in Jane's good books that day. She sulked at breakfast, and he noticed something about her then that he had wondered about for some time. While she set about marshalling the kitchen slaves, Tavington spent some time writing letters, and then decided to become better acquainted with the people who mattered most to his wife. He had felt some curiosity about them, and so he climbed the stairs to the garret floor, and found the nursery. It was silent, and Biddy greeted him calmly, as if she had known him all his life.
He asked, "Is the boy asleep?"
"Yes, Colonel." Biddy smiled fondly at the small body, sprawled in happy abandon on the bed. "He's having his nap. Such a good boy. He eats and sleeps and all just like he ought."
That gave him an opening. "Not much like my wife, I imagine."
Biddy cocked her head, and looked at him with more respect. Here was someone who had actually looked at her mistress. "Miss Jane's always been too thin, but she had a good appetite when she was a little girl. When she became a young lady, though, she sort of stopped eating. That was about the time she started running the house, and Mister Rutledge got on to her about what he wanted for his meals. I tell Miss Jane she needs to eat, but she don't like to be greedy. 'Self-indulgent,' she calls it. It just makes her frown when I tell her she's too thin, so I stopped. I guess she felt that was one thing she could have her way about."
It was an interesting insight. "Well, Biddy, I'm glad to find you agree with me. Mrs. Tavington is too thin. I am concerned for her health, especially if she were to try to carry a child. I must ask you and Letty to look after her and see that she eats properly. Nag her if you must, and if she doesn't like it, tell her that you are under my orders. Her father is demanding and excessive at table, true: but that is no good reason to starve herself. I will speak to her before I leave."
And he did, that very night. It was a delicate matter. He could not politely tell his wife that she was uncomfortably bony to lie upon when they made love; but he could address the matter as a point of concern about her health. She did not, unsurprisingly, like it.
"I hate gluttony," she replied sharply. "It's so disgusting. Papa insists on all those dishes on the table at once, and always at least two courses. It's a horrible waste of food, and it just puts me off."
"My dear Jane," he said impatiently. "You must not let your father control your life so. When we have our own household, I have no objection to a moderate table when we dine en famille. In the meantime, however, not everything you do should be a reaction to things you dislike about your current home." He stopped, just before he could blunder into his next thought. Just because Selina is a wanton, you need not be a prude. Selina was a forbidden subject between them. He was grateful to Jane for not upbraiding him for such a piece of folly. Every appearance of that woman, gravid and eyeing him with indecorous sentimentality, was a reproach to his good sense and taste. He would make no odious comparisons of her to his wife.
Another tactic might be more effective. "If you are with child, you will need proper nourishment. You would not withhold food from your helpless infant, I hope, because you wish to tacitly rebuke your father's greed."
Shocked, she cried, "Oh, no! Of course not!" She had never considered the matter in such a light. If it were for the sake of a child, of course she could manage to eat a little more. That point alone seemed valid to her. Tavington saw that hehad made an impression, and left the matter for another day. It was far more to the point at the moment to teach her the pleasures of the marriage bed. And there were whole regions of her body he had not yet touched. No time like the present.
And Biddy did her part too, the next day, mentioning the difficulties some women who were badly nourished had in conceiving. Jane longed for her own baby, and did not want to erect any barriers between herself and that most desired goal.
-----
The visit to Cousin Mary Laurens did not go particularly well. Tavington had already made up his mind against Jane's staying there, and was not swayed by Cousin Mary's charming house, a home so obviously uninhabited by men. Nor did Tavington and Cousin Mary take to one another: Tavington's vital presence reduced the pretty parlor to a fussy old lady's collection of silly fripperies. Jane worked hard, trying to steer the conversation to music or books, but their tastes were so far apart that it was nearly useless. Tavington paced the floor restlessly, and then stood glaring at the shelf of figurines in a way that made Cousin Mary extremely unsettled.
It was a great disappointment to Jane. Here she had hoped to present him with at least one relation whom he could like and respect, and it had all gone awry. The expressions on their faces as they made their farewells declared their impressions of each other all too clearly: Cousin Mary judged Tavington to be hardly better than a wild beast, and Tavington considered Mrs. Laurens an insipid and pretentious provincial. It was certain that her husband would not be giving her permission to live here anytime soon.
-----After two dinner parties, the first hosted by Lord Rawdon, the next by General O'Hara, Jane felt well acquainted with the senior Army officers in Charlestown. She and Tavington were established as a couple, and she was feeling increasingly confident that her husband regarded her as a fixture in his life.
Her father wanted to show Cornwallis some attention while the Lord General was in Charlestown. To Jane's relief, it was not something so irksome as a ball. Instead, his lordship was invited to an evening card party at the house on Queen Street. After this party, and a dinner hosted by the Lord General the following night, Tavington would return to his regiment. Jane admitted to herself that she would be sorry when he left. Despite all the ambivalent and confusing feelings he aroused in her, he was surprisingly conversable, and most importantly, protected her from the hostility of Papa and Selina.
The affair went surprisingly well. Jane felt there were more whist tables than the parlor could comfortably hold, but everyone seemed to appreciate the elegance of the light refreshments she had arranged for the occasion. The Lord General, as usual, enjoyed looking at Selina. Her stepmother—and her father—were on their best behavior. Rutledge had heard of the tension between Cornwallis and his son-in-law, and was anxious that it do himself no harm.
However, Cornwallis was too well-bred a man to insult a man on his home ground, and he and Tavington were perfectly civil, when they could not discreetly avoid one another. Rutledge was satisfied that this most important guest was not lumping him in with a disliked subordinate. His interests were clearly distinct from those of the Tavingtons.
Jane found it mildly pleasant, too. She cared nothing for cards herself, but took turns with some of the ladies entertaining the other guests with music. Two of the Rhett sisters actually had good voices, and a decent repertory of glees and duets. Her husband seemed to be having an agreeable time playing cards with his own officers, though she hated to see him lose money.
I shall never comprehend the pleasures of the gaming table. It was young Betsy's turn to perform, which she did with some credit. Jane took a quick survey to see if everything was going well. The clock chimed ten, and she wondered if they would ever leave.
The soldiers were talking endlessly of the war. Each had his own idea for trouncing the rebels; but the Lord General was keeping his counsel and concentrating on his winning hand. Jane understood more of it than she had a few months ago, but it was still as dull as watching grass grow. Listening to them, Jane was convinced that if she put her head down on the table, she would be instantly asleep. She reached into her workbasket for a bit of embroidery while Aunt Alice played dance music of twenty years before.
At last they were gone. Papa and Selina went upstairs at once. Jane set the slaves to cleaning the downstairs rooms, and told Tavington she was retiring for the night. He looked around at her, and poured her a glass of wine.
"Drink this first, if you please."
She had never drunk so much as she had since his return. She asked, "Are you trying to make me tipsy?"
"My dear Jane, if you are overset by one glass of wine, you have a constitution that nothing can save. I think it will relax you. Now drink it down, and I shall join you shortly." His own glass of brandy was still half-full, and he seemed in no hurry to finish it.
Once upstairs, Jane had Letty undress her right away; glad to put off the heavy, hot finery, to brush out and curl her hair, and to deal quickly with the excessive amount of tea—and wine--she had drunk that night. With all of this dispatched successfully, she bade Letty a quiet goodnight, and crawled into bed to await her husband. The wine had warmed her, and her thoughts were pleasant as she settled down to rest.
In fact, he came soon. Grown bolder with each night, Jane watched him undress. It was certainly a very disturbing and enticing sight. Tavington noticed his wife's interest and raised an amused brow. She looked away, embarrassed.
"A cat can look at a king, as they say, Jane," he teased. "You can certainly look at your own husband."
She did not reply immediately, uncomfortably certain that she must have a very silly look on her face.
Finally, to say something, she remarked, "You will be gone in two days. Such a long journey for such a brief visit."
"The Lord General would have it so," he shrugged, tossing his shirt aside. Her husband, it seemed, had a liking for sleeping completely unclothed. Jane had never heard of such behavior, but she could hardly order him to put something on. It was unfortunate, for there were things she would like to discuss with him in private, and it was difficult to talk sensibly with a naked man.
"Once more into the backcountry," she mused. "It sounds so wild—so utterly uncivilized. I can't understand the war out there. How can you all be fighting over something so undesirable?"
Tavington laughed, as he sometimes did when she said something he thought very droll. "A matter of high strategy, Jane. One can't let the rebels have the undesirable bits, or they would use them as bases to launch attacks on the low country, which England would not care to lose. Besides, there's nothing wrong with the country, just the bandits and rebels and their depredations."
In a few minutes he was in her bed, an arm around her, with that look he had, the one that told her he was in an amorous mood. His breath fluttered warmly in her hair, and she caught the whiff of brandy. He played with the drawstring of her nightshift. "This is perfectly absurd, Jane. Take off this ridiculous garment and let me pay proper attention to you."
Ever more embarrassed, she considered, and then asked, "Might we not put out the candles again? I think it would be easier for me."
He blew out an impatient breath. "If you like." He slid out of bed, to go over to the dressing table and snuff out the candle there. The room darkened noticeably, and when he paused by the bed table, and snuffed the other, it became suddenly pitch black. She felt him climb back into the wide bed, and reach out for her. She sighed, and obediently pulled the nightshift off, folding it neatly over the footboard. She lay curled on her side, and immediately felt his warm muscular arm clasp her against him. She shivered in nervous anticipation, wondering what would be required of her tonight. Dutifully she began to turn toward him, but he held her fast, his warm front spooning distractingly against her back.
"No. Don't move." His hand wandered, seeking her small breasts; tweaking one, then the other. Jane thought she would go mad. She would not make a sound. She must submit, but she must always remember that she was a lady, and not a wicked wanton, but he had his finger between her legs now, and touched her. He did this often, and she was becoming accustomed to the strange feelings they awakened in her. In fact, sometimes they were—she had to admit—pleasant. And tonight…
She smothered a squeak, and bit her pillow. She wanted to shout at him to hurry and get it over with—not to draw this out. But he seemed bent on torture, and would not withdraw any part of himself from her.
"Come, my Jane," he purred. "There's no shame in this. It's what you are made for." His breath was warm on her neck, and his voice dropped to a whisper that tickled her bare skin. "You promised to love me." His fingers strayed deep, stoking a wetness idly up and down, in and out.
She thought she wanted him to stop, but then, thank God, he did not. The stroking quickened, grew insistent, and Jane was suddenly seized with a shaking, like a series of hiccoughs, and she found herself muffling her startled cry into the bolster. Her hand caught at her husband's, pressing it close, until the sensations grew almost agonizing. She went limp, and took a deep breath of relief.
"I am—sorry," she gasped, bewildered. "I think I was having a fit of some sort, but I feel much better now."
Tavington rolled away and laughed helplessly. He heard her little hiss of outrage, and fought to control his amusement. Putting a hand on her shoulder, he pulled her onto her back, and lay on top of her, holding her fast. "My pure and innocent bride," he breathed, "that was not a fit. You were having a climax—an orgasm."
Her silence betrayed no hint of comprehension. He forced himself not to laugh at her again. "A paroxysm of venereal pleasure. It is perfectly natural, and indeed something I had been hoping to stimulate since the night we were married."
"Normal? Really? That is very—odd. I am not ill?"
"No. You are perfectly well." He nuzzled her slender neck and began sliding into her, very pleasurably. Her release had eased his way, and he took his time, feeling that such a turning point in their relations deserved some celebration. And with a little more care on his part, and a little more encouragement, she did too. And this time it was clearly no fit.
"Oh!" She could not bear to make any more noise, for fear of alerting others in the house to her situation. What if they knew about it? Her anxiety cut the moment short. But still, it was something new, and she lay beside her husband, wondering why everything always had to be kept such a mystery from young women. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and she could make out dim shapes. She glanced over at Tavington, who appeared perfectly comfortable and relaxed, eyes shut, a satisfied smile on his face. He must have known about this for a long time. Possibly when she first broached the idea of their marriage, he had been thinking about doing this with her. She did not know if she liked that or not. But at least she was finding her duty very agreeable. Perhaps, if they were alone, and not within earshot of her father, she might do even better…
-----
They awakened to the last day of his visit. Tavington was determined to make good use of his time, amused and pleased by his success in bringing his cool young Jane to the boil. She was rather embarrassed at her nakedness, and huddled under the sheet, wincing at the pale green light that suffused though the delicate bed curtains. Nonetheless, at his demand, she yielded herself up to more experiments.
"Why must you hold the pillow over your face, you silly girl? You're like to smother."
She confessed her anxiety to him. "I'm so afraid someone will hear me and know what we're doing."
He snorted, and rolled her over onto her stomach. Her flanks were far too thin, but the skin there was as velvet-soft as the rest of her, and he smoothed and stroked it with real enjoyment, smirking as she mewed and wriggled as his light touch tickled and teased her.
"What does it matter if they hear us? Everyone knows what we're doing anyway."
"Oh!" She started up, trying to escape. "Do you really think so? How horrible!"
He held her ruthlessly, kneeling between her legs, and continue to explore her interesting folds and shadows. "There's nothing horrible about it! You must stop this silly prudery. We are doing exactly as we ought. I have no idea where you got your notions about all of this being wicked, but you must put them entirely out of your head. This is one of life's greatest pleasures. It is perfectly honorable within marriage, and in fact it is something that is important to do well." A questing finger punctuated his remarks, drawing another squeak from Jane. She trembled, her body softening.
"You mean," she quavered, "that it's like an accomplishment, like music and French?"
Tavington was glad she could not see the grin on his face. She would never forgive him. "Yes, my dear," he soothed. "Exactly so. A very important—nay, essential--accomplishment. For what is the purpose of a lady's accomplishments, but to delight our senses and enrich our lives?" Feeling there had been enough talk for now, he pulled Jane up to her knees, and gave her some instruction in the finer points of her new "accomplishment."
-----
Letty laid the gown out on Miss Jane's bed, the crisp feel of the fabric a delight to her. She was particularly proud of this gown, and prouder still that she had cajoled Miss Jane into wearing something so bold. It was an emerald green moiré—a color that would harmonize with the facings on the Colonel's uniform. She had originally suggested scarlet, but Jane, as she knew she would, shrank from that. When the rich green was suggested as an alternative, Jane had seized on it in relief. And thus, Letty, with a little manipulation, saw Jane in the dress that she had planned from the beginning. The bodice was splendid: embroidered in tiny flowers of every color. It was just an exquisite dress. Listening for any approaching footsteps, Letty held it up in front of her and looked in the mirror.
It was very nice, but the peacock blue became her better, perhaps. If she could not be Miss Jane's maid, it would be nearly as nice to be a seamstress in Ma'mselle Renaud's shop. Had there been time, Letty would have gone over the hems of the new dress with her needle, adding hundreds more of the dainty rosebuds. Perhaps after this dinner, she would talk it over with Miss Jane, and do so. It would be such fun.
Her mistress seemed happier lately. Letty had talked it over with her mother, who was unsurprised.
"They just needed some time, baby. The Colonel ain't such a bad man. Not as bad as some, anyway. He don't want to make Miss Jane miserable—he just wants his way, like all men. It takes time for a young girl to get used to that. She's not crying or hurt in the mornings anymore, you say?"
"No, Mama. Sometimes she just acts all bashful, but I don't think he hurts her anymore."
"Well, then, that's good. That's the way it should be. Maybe when this war is over he will take her away from here. She needs a place of her own. And we'll go with her and take good care of her. The Colonel don't trifle with you?"
"No--he's a strange man, Mama. He talks to me about how he won't hurt me, but I just don't trust him. You know when a man says 'I won't hurt you,' it means he's about to hurt you bad."
"Well, baby, he's not from around here, and maybe things are different where he comes from. You just keep on with your work, and don't spend time alone with him."
It was good advice. Letty did her best never to be alone in a room with any man, most especially the husband of her new mistress. He was not like the old Master: he did not shout at the servants, or make nasty remarks to the women slaves; but she had heard the Colonel was a hard man and a killer, and you couldn't be too careful with someone like that. At least, though, he always praised Miss Jane's clothes, and would give Letty a nod sometimes, to show that he understood that she had a hand in keeping Miss Jane well-dressed.
Jane came upstairs to prepare. They would be taking the carriage to Lord Cornwallis' dinner, and have the dubious pleasure of close quarters with Papa and Selina for the duration. She entered the room to see Letty smoothing the folds of her gown, and smiled.
"It's so pretty. I've never had anything that color before."
They settled down for what was now the routine of painting and primping and hairdressing and jeweling. Letty was more experienced, and quicker at it now, and Jane was more relaxed. It had become a pleasure to have Letty groom her so meticulously, and to see herself looking so very much a fine lady. If only my eyes were just a little larger…
Silk stockings and garters, lace-trimmed silk shift, a petticoat, the false rump, the outer petticoat, the gown itself: all fell into place and fit perfectly. Jane eyed her flat bosom and slender waist with concern. The Colonel thought she was too thin, but she was never hungry. If she gained any weight, it would probably go to her hips and legs, and not conveniently appear as perfect, round breasts. She suspected her husband would prefer it if she had nicer breasts, but she had what she had. Biddy's words about conception concerned her more. After thinking it through, she decided that she would eat at least one thing more than usual. It was a practical, rational approach to the problem.
-----Jane looked quite nice, Tavington thought. The dress contrasted vividly with Selina's, who tended to favor white. Tavington smirked a little. Perhaps it was not the best choice as her pregnancy progressed, for it did not make Selina look her usual shapely self. However, he admitted there was a certain attractiveness to a woman in her condition. She was certainly the most beautiful expectant mother he had ever seen. Of course, he could not remember his mother when she had been carrying Lucy. She would have been far more lovely. He sighed to himself. Sic transit gloria mundi.
But Jane looked nice. Perhaps it was better to have a plain but elegant wife. She had no beauty to miss as she aged, no lost looks to grieve over, as his mother did, weeping bitterly before her mirror. Selina would mourn too, someday, the loss of that quality that she clearly prized above all else. Jane would always be proper and elegant; and with age would look no worse than many a former beauty.
He had had another unpleasant interview with the Lord General, earlier in the day, and would attend the dinner with outward good cheer and inner resentment. Cornwallis was still angry about his lost coats and breeches, a ridiculous concern considering the very serious danger that such a raid exposed. He had thought better of the man before, but now he had lost all regard for him. And at the end of the conversation, as Tavington was attempting—in his opinion successfully—to defend himself, Cornwallis had said something he would never forgive.
"I don't want any of your excuses, Colonel. What matters is your performance, not who you mother's friends are!"
Tavington frowned, still nursing his grievance. When I return to England, my lord Earl, you'll find my mother's friends of some consequence!
It was a splendid dinner. Tavington noticed Jane's almost imperceptible grimace of distaste at the lavish meal spread before them. He supposed it might be considered a waste, but the food uneaten here filled the servants' bellies, and any left over from them would feed their friends and relations and the very poor. Besides, as he had tried to explain to Jane, the purpose of such a dinner was not the food as nourishment: it was to show the grandeur and elegance, the wealth and generosity of the host. Lord Cornwallis must give a magnificent dinner, to support his position here in South Carolina.
"And besides, my dear, you need not eat it all! Nobody does. I ask only that you eat a little more than is your custom." It was unfortunate that as a married couple they could not sit together. Instead, he was placed by the charming Mrs. Giles, and knowing her history, exerted himself to be as pleasant and gentlemanly as possible.
Jane was taken in to dinner by Colonel Balfour, and found herself having a good time. He was a very serious man, a Scotsman of some education, and she discovered that he would talk about the philosopher Hume and about the intellectual society of Edinburgh with little urging. It was all very interesting, hearing about yet another place she would like to see someday. Major McArthur, seated across from her, joined the conversation with his reminiscences of Scotland, and Jane was fairly on the way to being entertained. Colonel Webster, further down the table, added his own remarks. They were all very intelligent, and very polite to her, and the talk of travel and books was far more diverting than the usual shop-talk of the war and supplies and the wretched quality of men in the ranks.
Conscientiously, she had her plate filled from the bewildering variety on the table. The crab soup was creamy and satisfying, the poached fish light and digestible. There was an array of savory mince pies, and scalloped oysters fragrant with herbs. The roast pork looked greasy to her and was rejected. She was tired of rice and took a spoonful of candied yams instead. Dutifully, she tried a bite of the turkey, and three bites of the fruit compote, and suppressed a sigh at the remove, when everything was taken from the table, and new dishes arranged before them. It would be a long evening. She drank a full glass of wine, and focused on the conversation
Tavington found himself near Banastre Tarleton.. The two had had a largely friendly rivalry when in the north, but once in South Carolina tensions had arisen, largely fueled by the Lord General's partiality. For some reason, Cornwallis had taken to Tarleton, just as he had taken against himself. It was a mystery to him. Perhaps the younger Tarleton, coming as he did from a family newly wealthy from trade, did not seem a rival. His methods were similar to Tavington's, and yet the Lord General had not rebuked him for them. All in all, it became evident to Tavington, seeing the easy, companionable bond between the two of them, that his commander's animus against him was purely personal. And that, Tavington decided, made it worse, because it was unprofessional.
At least Tarleton was not hostile to him. During the remove, he came down the table to chat with Tavington in his lively way.
"And so here is Tavington, the married man. Your wife is getting on very well with the Scottish contingent."
"She loves to hear about faraway places. Scotland must seem very exotic to her."
"You take it all very calmly."
"I'm not sure I understand you."
Tarleton grinned, and dropped his voice. "The whole marriage business. I can't imagine bowing my neck to the yoke!"
"My dear Ban, you are ten years younger than I. The day may come—sooner or later—when you too are very glad to catch yourself an accomplished young heiress."
"Yes—twenty thousand pounds! That's a fine fortune. Well, my friend, if you're happy, I'm happy for you, but I think I'll pass on the heiresses for now!"
-----
Jane, feeling very replete with food and wine, nearly fell asleep in the carriage on the way home. At least the party had broken up fairly early, as the officers must be on the move by the late morning. The Tavingtons did not bother with civilities, but took themselves off to their room ahead of the Rutledges. Tavington did not see the look of longing in Selina's eyes, as she realized she might never see him again.
Letty was waiting for Jane, and Tavington seated himself in the rocking chair, pretending to read a book, but really watching the proceedings. Jane did not let her charming maid curl her hair ("It's too late."), and blushed only a little as she doffed her beautiful gown and silk undergarments. When Letty finished and said her goodnights, Tavington rose, and surprised the girl with the gift of a guinea. He had already given one to her mother earlier in the day, as a sign of his approval. His wife had two faithful servants, and he was quite pleased that they were his as well.
He watched amused as Jane, prim in her crisp nightgown, slid between the sheets. Immediately, he discarded coatee and boots, stockings and breeches, and finally his shirt. Jane prepared to blow out the candle by the bed, when he forestalled her.
"Not tonight."
Her eyes grew larger, and her attempt at a protest stopped half spoken. Her gaze fluttered up and down, and she blushed deeply at the sight of him, proudly naked, advancing with obvious intent. The sheet was pulled brusquely from resisting hands, and Tavington was with her, in the bed, divesting her of her vestige of modesty.
"It looks better on the floor," he declared, with a playful air. "Now," he said thoughtfully, "what shall I do with you tonight?"
He gave a gentle push, and she fell back on the pillows, her skin bared to every electric sensation. Her husband held her motionless, as he touched and tasted her: fingers exploring the planes of her face, mouth searching hers. Unable to resist, she clutched at him, the smooth muscled back a gift to her hands. He slid lower, nuzzling and nipping at her neck, placing a kiss at the hollow of her throat, examining her collarbones with the curiosity of a traveler in strange lands.
His lips grazed a nipple, and then he fastened on it, drawing deeply. Jane felt the last relic of her self control escape as her mouth opened in a soundless cry, only satisfied when he moved his attentions to the other side and gave the pleasure balance.
A sudden gust of wind made the windows rattle, and she started, almost brought back to the world outside the curtained bed. The wind picked up, singing past the house like a wandering fiddler. The sound comforted her, and she felt protected by it, imagining that no curious ears could hear her own moans while the wind wailed so.
She was opened, and filled, and struggled not to lose him, carried beyond restraint by the teasingly slow pace, by the sudden ardent battering, by the delicious pleasures he conjured with his fingers. He was in the mood for sport, and suited his fancy, now languid in withdrawals that made her cry for loss of him, and now renewing their coupling with short, fierce grunts.
Transfixed, Jane was swept away by ripples of delight to a sudden wild release. White light flashed behind her eyes; nothing existed but the moment. She felt then that she loved the man inside her, and nearly forgot herself enough to cry it out as the spasms took her. Instead, she buried her confession in her husband's shoulder.
Well, thought Tavington, that's much more the thing. He remembered that someone had said that Jane had secret fires. They had burned tonight. He gave her a kiss, and rolled off her, well pleased with himself. Finally. His shoulder throbbed, and he twisted his head to have a look.
"You bit me! You little devil!"
Appalled, she could only gasp out her apology. "I'm frightfully sorry! Are you much hurt?"
He laughed at her, and said, "No, of course not. Only a love bite." He pulled her against him, letting her head rest in the crook of his arm. "You seemed to enjoy that."
"Yes," she replied haltingly. "It was most---" She could not think of an appropriate word for such glory. Diverting? Delightful? Enjoyable? Those were words to use about a ball, a tea party, a fashionable dinner. Finally her mind supplied something more fitting: "---profound."
"Profound," he repeated, rather thoughtfully. "I hope you found it profoundly agreeable."
She shook her head. "Agreeable is too weak a word, Colonel. I said—and meant—profound. That encompasses it all."
"And that is another thing," he observed, now sounding a little drowsy. "Can you really not bring yourself to call me by my Christian name?"
"It seems a little impertinent."
"Not at all. When we lie together so, it is perfectly correct. I grant you, in public we ought to use 'Colonel' and 'Mrs,' but surely in the privacy of our marriage bed, we can be a little less—formal."
"If it pleases you—William," she managed shyly, feeling quite odd.
"It does please me, Jane. It does please me." To prove it, he kissed her sweetly, and then fell at once into a deep sleep.
Jane snuffed the candle, and lay awake somewhat longer, more than a little unsettled. As she had at the height of her climax, she felt that she might be in love with her husband, and it made her rather sad. He was kind to her, and had opened new vistas of mysterious pleasure for her; but she did not deceive herself that he was in love. Tomorrow he would leave her: to his war, his career, his unfathomable military life in which she had no part. He would leave her behind, and have a thousand more important things to think of than his plain Colonial bride. He would forget, she feared, and only she would remember.
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Note: A "course" in 18th century dining was not a single dish: it was an entire tableful of food. The first course included soup, but many other dishes as well, Diners would point out what they wanted and have the servants bring them to them. Gentlemen would carve the birds and joints nearest to them, and assist ladies in getting their portions. Contemporary accounts complain that by the time the soup was consumed, the rest of the course was cold. The table would then be cleared, and the second course brought in, which could include a combination of entrees, side dishes, puddings, and other desserts. There could be more courses. It was not unheard of for an upper class dinner to last five hours. The leftovers, of course, comprised the servants' meal.
Sic transit gloria mundi: Thus passes the glory of this world. A reflection on the transitory nature of worldly things.
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Next—Chapter 16: Lady in Waiting