Hi all! Thanks again for your kind response-I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far. It is 2:30 in the morning now when I am posting this and have tried to quickly proofread it. Am going to bed now and I'll edit it tomorrow if I find mistakes. Forgive me-hopefully they won't be too glaring!

JScorpio

Chapter 11 Informed And Instructed

"Oh bloody Hell!," Hugh Bordon swore at the sight of his commander slapping Miss Burwell across the face.

The captain and Lieutenant Wentworth had been standing a few yards behind the house conferring with two privates when he noticed the girl striding purposefully out the door toward the colonel. The ever vigilant Bordon kept an eye on the two, knowing that something was wrong—wrong enough to make the girl approach a man that had hurt her hands badly. Hugh had been on edge during the short exchange, dividing his attention. He had a bad feeling the moment he saw the girl in what looked like a challenge type of stance. The officer assumed correctly that trouble was brewing.

Captain Bordon sighed in frustration. The young plantation mistress had been home barely an hour and was already provoking the enemy. And his commander, not a patient man, had already come unglued and was out of control.

He turned to the two young privates and apologized. "Excuse us, gentlemen. Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir," Wentworth answered and started away after his captain.

The two men trotted along quickly toward the breezeway entrance to the ballroom, the girl's screams making Hugh cringe all the way. He knew he needed to get to Tavington and Miss Burwell before the situation could escalate more. As usual, the aide-de-camp needed to calm his commander and preserve the prisoner, which seemed to be happening more and more these days.

As they jogged along the side of the brick building, Hugh turned to his underling. "Get ready to help me restrain him."

"He will call us 'insubordinate'," Wentworth pointed out as they hurried along.

"That may be," acknowledged Bordon, laboring for breath as they ran, "but she won't be any good to us if he breaks her jaw."

The captain knew that when they got there, that he would have something to diffuse. He was determined to keep Miss Burwell in one piece. A myriad of ways and possibilities had been discussed by the dragoon officers and the generals of how having that girl as a prisoner could help the British. Hugh would have to find a way to remind his commander of that before he hurt the girl severely.

As the two officers skimmed the side of the building, the girl's screaming and Colonel Tavington's angry shouts carried out through the open windows. Wentworth and Tavington were able to see the scene through the many windows, monitoring it closely as they neared the breezeway.

Inside the ballroom, Tavington had dragged the girl in there and pushed her against the wall, pinning her squarely to it. "How DARE you question me, little girl!," he shouted, obviously seething at her. "Didn't your parents teach you to respect your elders?"

The officer's jeer made the girl mad, forgetting herself yet again. "You haven't earned my respect!"

She saw it coming yet it was too quick for her to even brace herself. Betsy felt the burning sting of the back of Tavington's hand across her face. He hit her so hard that she felt her head jerk and saw flashes before her eyes for an instant. It took her breath away.

"You are in no position to challenge me, Miss Burwell," he warned through gritted teeth, his face close to hers.

The girl was truly afraid now, sorry she'd approached him, wishing she'd asked Captain Bordon instead. Though the second in command could sometimes be brutal as she recalled, he was generally more reasonable to deal with. Betsy fought back tears, hoping that someone or something would stop this man from hurting her.

Lieutenant Wentworth and Captain Bordon burst through the open door of the dining room. They were met with the familiar sight of their leader hovering over a rebel prisoner in some sort of intimidating circumstance. Yet both officers knew the threat to be all too real.

"Colonel!" Bordon shouted. "Perhaps we should explain the situation to her."

Betsy's body visibly lost its tension as she sighed in relief and sunk back against the wall. She was grateful not to be hit a third time.

Tavington stepped back from the girl and looked at his subalterns with a mixture of surprise and question. His blue eyes showed a quick flash of anger at having been interrupted from 'disciplining' this brash and mouthy captive.

Bordon, knowing that he was bordering on insubordination, used his strength for diplomacy to diffuse the situation and take control. Yet he made suggestions, therefore leaving the colonel some control, or at least the illusion of it. It slaked the captain that the prisoner could live another day for some possible future use and stopped the colonel—at least temporarily—from heightening his already horrific reputation by adding another rebel name to his growing list of victims.

Hugh cautiously approached the two, reaching out to take Betsy's wrist. He took it and led her out away from the colonel and toward the dining table. "Please sit down, Miss Burwell. The colonel would like to apprise you of the situation."

Captain Bordon looked over at the young third officer of the dragoons, still standing in the doorway, relieved that he didn't have to subdue his own commander. "Thank you, Lieutenant. You're dismissed," Hugh said with a nod of his head. Wentworth was all too glad to hurry away lest he be called to pounce on the colonel.

The dragoon adjutant then deftly turned the attention back to his commander, who now seemed to ease a bit. As the girl sat down, she looked cautiously at both men. To her, Tavington seemed oddly satisfied that the situation had calmed down.

Betsy continued to watch both officers closely, ready to run for the door if need be. The Captain took a seat next to her as Tavington stood on the opposite side of the table.

"We aren't going anywhere, Miss Burwell," he informed her in slow, measured words.

The girl was stunned. She thought they were through with her. She figured out that their plan must have been to lure her father to them, which had failed. Betsy felt her mind whirling in circles, wondering why they would still want her. She couldn't seem to slow her mind down enough to think straight.

The feeling, which to her felt as if she'd lost all track of time, had in actuality only been a few seconds. A rustling of paper next to her pulled her from her momentary shock. She looked to her side just in time to see Captain Bordon pulling a piece of paper from his jacket pocket. The girl watched curiously as he handed it to the colonel.

Betsy looked back at Colonel Tavington as he opened the paper handed to him. He leaned over the table, bracing himself with one hand on it.

"His Majesty King George has seen fit to give us use of your entire plantation," the colonel announced as he passed the paper to Miss Burwell.

The girl looked at the form in confusion as William spoke. "We've been billeted here."

"For how long?" she asked with alarm and annoyance.

"Indefinitely," answered Tavington with triumph in his voice. "Your staff has been briefed already as to their expectations during our stay here."

Betsy looked to her side at the Captain, hoping he might rescue her home from this takeover. He returned her look with a cold expression.

The colonel, still leaned menacingly over the table, stared at the girl for a moment with his steely eyes. "I'll tell you what is expected of you."

Miss Burwell shivered imperceptibly at the officer's tone. She pressed her lips tightly together, forcing herself to hold her own tongue lest she get into trouble again.

Tavington stood up straight again. He turned and paced a couple of steps with his hands clasped behind his back, then he turned back to address the plantation's mistress.

"Your farm will continue to run as usual," began the dragoon commander, "but this house, the outbuildings, and lands are now for the use of the King's army. You will no longer be supplying the rebels or selling commercially at market. The livestock, supplies, and foodstuffs produced here will now to go supply our army."

Betsy was exasperated and fought hard to stay under control. She felt like he was planning to starve her and her staff out.

"And what of me and my servants?", she asked.

"You and your staff are now in the service of the British military."

"Yes, but what of us? How are we to be sustained?"

"You and your servants will be given enough to survive," answered Tavington. "You will be compensated by the Crown."

"Are we just to be forced out of our rooms?" the girl queried.

"No, Miss Burwell. You will still live here, but you will have to shift things to accommodate me and my men. Your house and your grandfather's will quarter my staff and any visiting officers. The men will live in tents on your grounds. Your buildings will house our supplies and soldiers as well, if need be. Your barns will stable our horses, teamster animals, and wagons. Shelter will also be given by you to any Loyalist refugees."

Betsy clasped her hands tightly together under the table, and shivered again. The colonel was staring hard down at her again with a look silently reminding—warning her—not to question this.

Tavington went on. "You will be a gracious plantation mistress to any visiting British soldiers and officers. You will be expected to be a good hostess at any parties held here."

Betsy was growing more angered by the moment as he listed his 'expectations' for her and her farm. Not only had he moved his men in, but there would be 'visitors' there as well. And the nerve of him to tell her he would have parties here, she thought.

William paced again then stopped, looking down at the girl. He shot her a look of frank seriousness. "You will comply without question with all requests given to you by His Majesty's officers."

Her mouth dropped open in shock. "But…colonel," she stammered in horror, "you can't expect me to…this isn't a bawdy—"

The dragoon commander rolled his eyes at the girl's assumption that she would have to supply the men with sexual favors. "Within reason, Miss Burwell," he clarified. "You won't be expected to accompany the men to their quarters. There are other women willing to take care of that."

She looked down, embarrassed and insulted. How dare he speak of such a subject, she thought, her mind whirling still in disbelief.

William pulled the chair out slightly that was on his side of the table, across from Miss Burwell. He put his foot up on it, leaned forward, and rested his crossed forearms on his knee. The colonel looked at the girl with a sinister and victorious smile.

"Did you really think we would free you, little girl?" scoffed the dragoon.

Betsy began to tremble again, this time visibly. She looked sideways with question in her eyes at Bordon, still seated next to her. His gaze was a bit more sympathetic this time as this was not the way he would approach a child. He was wise enough to understand that the children left at home during this war were usually innocent victims caught in the middle. Hugh also comprehended that men like Tavington were good at exploiting the innocent to suit their purpose, which was to win this war at any cost.

The captain, though feeling bad for Miss Burwell, again said nothing. He knew his commander was enjoying taunting the girl. And though Hugh wouldn't have done this, preferring other methods to coerce or win over the prisoner, sometimes Tavington's jeering and intimidation did draw out the use from some captives.

"You're still a prisoner," Tavington sneered. "A prisoner in your own home; a prisoner of your own life; our prisoner."

Betsy closed her eyes, thinking about what he said. Then she became defiant inside. She thought silently that there was no way they could hold her there. She had friends in the countryside and the village. The girl knew her own home and lands better than these redcoats did. She knew that she could slip away from them. Even if she couldn't get to her father, she would find some safe haven.

The scooting of the chair on the wood floor back under the table by Tavington pulled the girl from her impromptu escape plans. She looked up in time to catch the officer straightening his body back up to its full, tall length.

"You may be given certain liberties if you prove you can be trusted," the dragoon commander informed. "You will be allowed to roam your farm freely within the property's boundary. Of course our sentries will be in place patrolling the border of it."

How can I escape with sentries guarding the place, she asked herself silently. Still, this uncertainty did not deter her fledgling plan. The girl still had the upper hand in knowing every inch of her plantation, and she would find some way to get past the pickets.

Colonel Tavington, though, was a step ahead of his captive. He knew that the audacity of youth and the familiarity of her surroundings were making the girl think boldly. The officer assumed she was probably thinking how easy it would be to flee this place that she knew so well.

"You may even be allowed to go into the village; attend events," William continued, "with an armed escort, of course. If you try to escape or don't comply with our requests, you will be punished."

Betsy's mouth dropped open and her eyes rounded as she looked up at the man. She said nothing, still taking in the colonel's threats.

"You will be confined to the house or your room, or I'll have you punished physically."

The girl was aghast. How dare him, she thought, to think that a young girl could be whipped like a common criminal or disobedient soldier. Then she remembered what he'd said earlier, that the farm was to continue to function as usual.

She finally pulled herself from her own state of temporary shock. "But how am I to run this farm if you confine me to the house?"

"You can't," he answered quickly, cutting her off. "So don't do anything to put yourself in that position."

There was a rap on the doorframe, drawing the attention of the trio in the dining room to the still open door. Lieutenant Wentworth was back, standing just outside in the breezeway.

"Sir, the infantry has just arrived," he announced.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Tavington replied. "Excuse me, Captain, I must go meet their commander." With that, the colonel walked toward the door as quickly as his adjutant had nodded to him.

In the doorway, the tall dragoon commander stopped and turned back to face Bordon and the plantation's young mistress. "I trust that there will be no more trouble out of you, Miss Burwell."

She looked down at the table top and shook her head slightly, indicating 'no.' The young girl's heart was sinking at the revelation that she was a captive on her own farm, and that the possibility of escape was becoming distant.