Cassandra ran a hand down her front smoothing the blue satin material out. She wandered over to the vanity and picked up the silver hairbrush that was sitting there, running it through her tangled brown hair, brushing it to a shine, before she reached back and pulled it quickly into a braid. Cassandra studied herself in the mirror for a moment, surprised that the look of the 1700's should suit her so well. Crossing back to the door, she opened it, stepping hesitantly into the hallway.
"Ahh! Miss Davies! Are you ready to be taken to dinner?" the voice of the soldier came from the darkness to her left, and Cassanrda nodded. "Colonel Tavington told me that you would accompany me" she said softly as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. "And so I shall" the man replied coming up to her and offering his arm. "I am Captain John Wilkins Miss Davies" he said as she took his offered arm. "And if there is anything you need, don't hesitate to ask".
Cassandra couldn't help but stare in awe as she made her way down to the dining area. The house looked so different; she could scarcely believe it was the same she would live in.
As Cassandra entered the dining area, a faint blush creped across her cheeks when she saw Colonel Tavington and another, older, man seated together as though they were waiting on her. Both men rose as she entered, but Tavington came to stand in front of her, and after bowing slightly at the waist, he took her hand in his and brushed his lips across her knuckles, the barest hint of skin on skin.
"Hello Colonel" she said, her voice barely a whisper.
"Good evening Miss Davies" he replied in his cool, indifferent voice.
"Ah Colonel, so this is the young woman you were telling me about" Cassandra's eyes flicked over to the other man, still standing by his place at the table.
"Yes, Lord General" Tavington replied, turning, so that he was now standing beside Cassandra.
"Lord General Cornwallis, this is Cassandra Davies" he said with an inclination of his head.
"Pleased to meet you Lord General" Cassandra said softly, curtseying.
"The pleasure I'm sure" Cornwallis replied, coming over to stand in front of her, an appraising look in his eye as he too took hold of her hand and kissed it, "is mine". "Shall we eat then?" he asked, his eyes turning back to the grand table in front of them.
Cassandra smiled, momentarily taken aback, as Colonel Tavington offered his arm to her. He was different, Cassandra mused, when he wasn't so guarded. Cassandra took his arm, and allowed him to lead her to the table, smiling and inclining her head, as he pulled a chair out for her.
Dinner passed without much conversation, which suited Cassandra just fine. She was still adjusting to the fact that she seemed to be lost in a very strange dream. Idly, she scooted the remainder of her food around her plate, when her reverie was interrupted by Cornwallis' comment to the Colonel.
"Still haven't found your ghost yet?" he asked, the speculation clear in his voice.
"Not yet, Lord General" Tavington replied quickly, "But we receive new information almost daily. Its only a matter of time".
"See that you put an end to this nonsense quickly Tavington. I will not have my men bested by a bedtime story. The man insults me! First he raids the supply wagons, and then he steals my memoirs, my dogs! Not to mention the countless other things that were of a non-military nature the man has managed to steal from me!"
Cassandra's eyebrows rose slightly as she took a sip of water. So, they still weren't aware of who the 'ghost' was then? That was interesting to know. She of course, knew the ghost was really Benjamin Martin, but she wasn't about to tell either of them that.
"Of course, Lord General" came Tavington's clipped reply, "The man is a savage, what did you expect?"
At this, Cassandra choked on her water, and immediately covered it with a cough. Who was he to call Benjamin Martin a savage? Cassandra knew all about him, the Bloody Butcher of South Carolina.
"Something wrong Miss Davies?" Tavington asked her, his blue eyes narrowing in suspicion.
"No" she managed to sputter. "Nothing Colonel Tavington"
"Perhaps" General Cornwallis said in an almost thoughtful voice, "We should discuss something else? Something more suited to the company of a young woman?" Although, his voice was soothing, Cassandra plainly understood the look he gave the Colonel, he didn't trust her either.
Colonel Tavington nodded once, before turning his eyes to his dinner plate, and the glass of brandy sitting before him. He had just brought the glass to his lips when Cornwallis spoke again, this time directly to Cassandra;
"There is to be a ball, here tomorrow night Miss Davies" he said, giving her a welcoming smile. "I am expecting several friends and associates to be here, and I would be honored if you would accompany Colonel Tavington"
Now it was the Colonel's turn to choke, he turned his head, and gave his commander a wide eyed stare, that Cassandra was certain was copied onto her face perfectly. Her?!?! Accompany the Butcher to a ball!?!? He had to be kidding!
"Lord General" Tavington began, "I don't think, I mean to say, it would be highly inappropriate for a man such as myself to be – "
The rest of his sentence was cut off as Cornwallis waved a hand. "I will hear no more on the subject Colonel. I will expect you and Miss Davies out on the front lawn tomorrow night! Is that understood?"
"Perfectly My Lord" Tavington replied through clenched teeth.
Later that night, Cassandra stood by the window in her room, looking out over the sprawling lawn, and she sighed. She watched, by the light of the moon, Colonel Tavington stalk across the lawns to where some of his men sat. She watched him speak briefly with them, before he turned his head and looked up at the house. Looked it seemed, directly at her. Cassandra shrank back from the window, and walked to the bed, where she sat, thinking of the things that had transpired that day. Had it really only been a day? Sinking back into the feather pillows, Cassandra contemplated her situation. Held against her will in a house that was both familiar and unfamiliar. Somehow, whether by dream or freak of nature, transported back in time, and now scheduled, again by no choice of her own, to attend a ball with the most ruthless of killers during the Revolutionary period. Cassandra sighed, and closed her eyes, her last conscious thought being that of the man with the ice blue eyes.