Chapter Two
"….complete lack of regard for any of the rules of propriety and modern decency! Miss Fairfax, you are utterly…"
Elizabeth stood as stiff as a board in front of General Cornwallis's desk, her eyes glazing over as he continued to pace back and forth in the small space between the window overlooking Middleton Place's grounds and his chair. At the beginning of his rant she had been mortified, but as it grew in length and intensity it lost some of its initial sting. Every so often Cornwallis would pause to bang his hand against the desk for emphasis, causing her to flinch, which he seemed to take as a sign that she was hanging on his every word. In the meantime, Elizabeth was mentally scolding herself in what was perhaps an even harsher tone. How could she have been so bloody stupid? It was all her own fault, of course. It had been nothing more than foolish fancy to think that she could blend in so closely beside the people who had known her from birth without being discovered. Elizabeth saw that now. She wasn't a spy or an assassin or even one of the brash heroines that she had read about in her books. It seemed that she was merely, as General Cornwallis had said, a "headstrong little girl".
The smart tapping of riding boots on the varnished wooden floor ended the General's tirade and shook Elizabeth out of her thoughts and she turned and backed up, almost fainting at the sight of her godfather striding in and giving a brief nod to Cornwallis before removing his riding gloves.
"You sent for me, my Lord."
Tavington's voice just as she had remembered. She could hear the slightest hint of respect in his tone, which was just enough to ensure that he didn't sound completely insolent.
"Colonel Tavington," General Cornwallis unceremoniously stated, his cheeks flush with anger, "Your baggage."
He jerked his head toward Elizabeth before glaring daggers at the colonel, who merely quirked an eyebrow at his superior after giving his goddaughter only the most cursory of glances. Her heart gave a queer little thump when he looked at her. She had somehow forgotten the strange, pale shade of his eyes and the proud way that he carried himself.
"My Lord General," Colonel Tavington retorted, not bothering to hide the sneer in his tone this time as he walked closer toward the throne-like desk, "I don't recall any of my personal effects"—
A jolt went through her body as he surveyed her again. Their eyes met for the first time and Tavington's scornful reply faded away as he strode up within an arm's length of his goddaughter. Sliding a surprisingly gentle hand under her chin, he tilted her face toward his and forced her to meet his inquisitive gaze as he surveyed her features with blatant curiosity.
"Elizabeth," Tavington said with a note of disbelief, "I didn't even recognize you…you've grown up."
It was true. She now stood barely four inches shorter than the colonel and though time had changed her appearance in other ways it had left him much the same. She found herself almost smiling up at her godfather as the beginnings of a grin crept over his features. Tavington glanced to his left at the still-scowling Cornwallis and the moment was lost as he drew his hand away and went to stand in front of his superior. Biting her lip, Elizabeth wrung her hands as apprehension crept back up on her like a cold chill.
"Miss Fairfax," General Cornwallis continued angrily, "deemed it necessary to make the crossing from England alone, completely unsupervised, and to take up residence here in Middleton Place unannounced!"
The declaration was punctuated with yet another bang of the General's hand on his much-abused desk, which caused Elizabeth to flinch and elicited no reaction from the Colonel, who did nothing but shoot her an incredulous look before looking back to Cornwallis. As it stood she was completely removed from the situation. The conversation had shifted from a one-way diatribe to a discussion between adults about her punishment. She looked down and stared at the floor as she silently contemplated her fate. Had she come all the way to America only to be sent back to England in chains?
"What exactly does that mean?" Tavington asked icily.
"The girl's been hiding here for more than a fortnight after stowing away on some bloody barge, and if it hadn't been for General O'Hara…at any rate, I am in no mood for a social scandal and I have absolutely no time for it. Colonel, the outcome of matter is obviously your responsibility and is to be left up to your discretion."
"I don't know about that," he replied sardonically, fixing Elizabeth with an angry stare, "If it were entirely up to me I'd have her beaten and sent back home in chains. I don't know if Lord and Lady Fairfax would approve, but we'll see what we can do."
Elizabeth shrank under his glare and looked down. She couldn't look him in the face. Her godfather had never been this angry at her or even in front of her. Now he seemed quietly livid, and the fact that General Cornwallis's fury was slowly winding down didn't make the situation any less frightening.
"Who else besides O'Hara knows that she's here?" Tavington asked slowly, taking his gaze off of Elizabeth to glance at the General, who was massaging his temples.
"My niece Mary. No one else."
"Everyone else knows then," Elizabeth heard the Colonel mutter to himself. "Very well," he said loudly, addressing General Cornwallis with a small nod of respect, "I'll sort the matter out myself."
He came toward her before she had time to react, clutching her arm in a vice-like grip as he pulled her toward the sitting room adjacent to General Cornwallis's temporary office. As ill-mannered as the Colonel's initial actions toward her were, they only got worse when he'd had a chance to shut the heavy wooden door behind the two of them.
"What were you thinking?" He hissed, "What have you done? Did you think you could just waltz all the way to the colonies on a whim? I'm fighting a war, Elizabeth, and I haven't seen you in years, and I can't stay and take care of"—
"I didn't come here for you!" She cried indignantly, her interruption surprising both of them.
Elizabeth shook with anger. She fought hard to keep from crying; her hands balled into fists as she swallowed hard and tried to look at her godfather. After a few seconds of silently looking over her reddened face, Tavington spoke again.
"If anyone ever finds out about this you're ruined," he said bitterly, "Absolutely ruined. You'll never be able to show your face in polite society again."
"Good," she replied, "I don't care about polite society anymore. I'm trying to get as far away from it as I can."
Her retort lacked the gusto and volume of her first, but was still loud enough to be audible. However, her last remark was enough to fan the flames of the Colonel's volatile temper even more.
"You don't have anything to get away from. You've got your father's wealth and your mother's good looks, you count the likes of lords and dukes as your friends and acquaintances, and I daresay before this incident you lived a charmed life."
"You have no idea what my life has been like," Elizabeth said quickly, "You don't know"—
"What?" Tavington asked viciously, "That you do whatever you please every day? That you're a frigid little coquette and they call you the "green-eyed monster" for it, and your poor mother is absolutely frantic that you'll be a spinster your whole life? Is that what I don't know, Miss Fairfax?"
"They—they write all of that to you, do they?"
"Of course they do," he said bitterly, "I've known your parents for longer than you have."
"It's not as if I haven't heard anything about you," Elizabeth sniffed, "I've heard all sorts of terrible stories, especially since I've been here. They call you the Butcher, and say that you shoot women and children and"—
"That I've never lost a battle and never fail to get results. This isn't about me, you ignorant girl, it's about you, and you can't change the subject, or keep crying to get out of it."
She'd been sniffling ever since they'd begun their altercation and now Elizabeth took a break to furiously swipe at her cheeks to get the tear tracks off. Despite Tavington's protests to the contrary, he fell silent at the sight of more tears leaking out of her bloodshot green eyes and look about as unhappy as she felt. All of her happiness at seeing him had been turned upside down and her misery had been infinitely compounded. He hadn't written to her at all. Of course every now and again her parents had gotten a letter, especially in the early months of his deployment, and he had told them to bid her hello, or had made some other off-handed comment directed at her, but eventually his letters had stopped coming, or so she'd thought. He hadn't bothered to refute any of her accusations, either. War was a ghastly business, but Elizabeth would have felt better off if she hadn't known some of the particulars of what "The Butcher" did to help the British war effort.
"Why did you come here?" He asked flatly, his tone no less stern as he held out a white handkerchief, which she grudgingly accepted, "Why and how?"
"The 'how' of it isn't any miracle, Colonel Tavington. I dressed up in men's clothing and stowed away on a ship. Everyone I met thought I was a boy until I got to Middleton Place. Then I decided I wanted to be a girl again."
She bitterly made light of her adventure across the sea and saw with some satisfaction that he winced at the abbreviated tale, obviously appalled at the very notion.
"And my parents provided the 'why' of it all," Elizabeth continued, dabbing at her eyes and staring into the empty fireplace, "I heard them talking about me one night and I panicked."
"What were they saying?" He asked sharply.
"That I was getting so much older, and that I hadn't been courted by anyone, and they were in the process of negotiating a marriage for me," she said with an angry laugh, "They were going to offer me up on a silver platter to"—
"To whom?" Tavington interrupted, leaning closer toward her and causing Elizabeth to shrink away from him, "Did you hear them say it?"
"No! All I know that he's well-educated and has no money. The last thing I heard before I bolted is that this man is older than me. What if he's ancient, like Victoria Pickett's husband?"
"Thirty-nine is hardly ancient," Colonel Tavington replied stiffly, "I believe you've blown this whole issue out of proportion. And there is no way you're going to be able to do the work of a servant and survive."
"Yes I could!" Elizabeth replied indignantly, "I have so far and I will keep going if I have to. Or I could be a governess, or a seamstress."
"Give me your hands."
"Wh-what?"
"Your hands."
She tentatively obeyed, turning to the side and stretching out her pale fingers over the light blue cotton of the couch. When Colonel Tavington took her hands in his she sucked in a sharp breath. Elizabeth could do nothing but dumbly watch as he looked at them and placed his hands over hers.
"I knew it," he said matter-of-factly, "Still pale. A bit of sun exposure but you've been getting hand cream. Hardly any calluses on the fingertips. Light labor, at the very most."
She couldn't think. The touch was excessively pleasant, the way he was stroking her fingers with his, even though Elizabeth was completely aware, entranced as she was, that he was doing nothing more than assessing her the way one would a horse. When Colonel Tavington let go of her hands Elizabeth let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.
"You haven't really been doing servant's work, my dear," Tavington continued, his voice gentler than before, "You've been keeping up a wonderful little façade, which just proves my point. You'd be wasted here in the Colonies. You're far too clever and you"—
"I can't go back to marry a stranger," Elizabeth interrupted, hanging her head, "I just can't. And I can't face my parents."
"Then I have a proposition for you."
She looked up at him, a hopeful expression on her face. Already she needed him too much. Already she could fill herself slipping, leaning on him, the vestiges of self-confidence she had acquired during her travels fading away. She wanted to be five again and sit beside him and have him explain, in his calm way, that everything was going to be just fine because he was seeing to it himself.
"If you will promise me that you will stay here under the care of General Cornwallis, I will write your parents and allow you to stay until the end of the war…at which point you will return home, with me as your chaperone."
"But the man"—
"This war could last another year yet," Colonel Tavington continued slowly, "And"—
"By that time he will have found another bride," Elizabeth finished excitedly, "Thank you, Colonel Tavington, this is a brilliant plan."
"Of course," he replied coolly, "Just promise me that we'll keep your adventure between us, hmm? Doubtless you've already relayed all of the exciting bits to Miss Mary Cornwallis, but if she can be convinced to keep them to herself I believe it would greatly help our cause."
"I will!"
Her heart was racing from the excitement of it all. Elizabeth was close, so close, to having everything she wanted and being able to keep from marrying the horrid man her parents were planning on giving her away to. In the back of her mind she knew that she was only borrowing time, but a whole year stretched out before her, glowing and glorious. She gave not a thought to the war, in her mind her godfather was invincible and immortal and General Cornwallis was a master tactician who would surely crush the rebellion as easily as it had started. Colonel Tavington rose and held out a hand to her, which she nervously accepted.
"We must be going if we are to make it to dinner in time. Many people have come early for the ball and you should put in an appearance before the event itself to avoid causing too much of a stir. You're entering unannounced as it is."
"I understand," Elizabeth replied, her grasp on his hand light and tentative before he removed his hand and placed it at the small of her back to guide her out the door.
"Say that you were travelling here for the fresh air, or something to that affect," Colonel Tavington said crisply, "I'm sure that the Cromwells and the Powells will be intrigued to see you in the colonies."
"Cecily Powell is here?" Elizabeth hissed, stopping dead in her tracks, the name of her old enemy burning like acid on her tongue.
"Yes she is," Tavington replied, turning to bore a hole in her with an intense glare from his icy blue eyes, "I trust that something so trivial as a single person's presence won't cause a problem for you, will it?"
"Of course not," she replied weakly, shrinking under his angry gaze, the sinking feeling from before returning in full force.
Author's Note: I am SO SORRY I haven't updated in forever! Please forgive me! My next update will be very, very soon, and I will have this fanfic finished by the end of the summer, I promise!