Hi all-again, sorry it has taken so long to update. Real life takes precedence! Thanks for reading and your comments. Enjoy!

JScorpio

Chapter 13: Unwelcome Visitors

Within two days, it seemed that things had finally settled down at the Burwell plantation—as much as things could resolve under the enemy's billet. The redcoat stragglers had finally made their way onto the farm and had settled into the new village of canvas strung out across the lawn of the plantation.

Though the enemy had settled in and was already feeling quite at home in their new camp, the rebel residents of the Burwell farm were unnerved at having to work for and share their home with their new masters. The female servants were especially disturbed, now suffering through the infantrymen's lewd comments, forward advances, and general unrestrained behavior.

Despite the bad behavior by the infantry, the elite Green Dragoons were acting as gentlemen. They had been reminded to maintain that demeanor by their superiors. The residents were thankful that the cavalrymen were proper acting, yet they lived on edge, always mindful of Colonel Tavington's sudden outbursts of temper. They would never forget the brutality forced upon the hands of their young mistress, Betsy Burwell. That memory was enough to keep them looking over their shoulders.

This afternoon, Betsy had taken refuge from the summer heat and the new redcoat residents in the house. After helping with morning and afternoon chores, she had retreated to the solace of a cool corner in the first floor parlor. The house was quiet with most of the servants attending to duties in the yard and outbuildings.

After an hour or so of reading, Betsy noticed the house to be still unusually silent. Usually within the course of her respite, one of the servants would occasionally enter the room to pass through it or to check on her. Suspicious of what they were up to, yet worried for them since the enemy was about, the girl put her book down and looked about, listening for one of their voices. When she heard and saw still nothing, she rose and walked across the room.

Miss Burwell peered out the side window, looking around for her staff. Not seeing them, she quickly moved out of the room and into the hallway. The girl soon entered the preparation kitchen in the back of the house, stopping to gaze out the window onto the back lawn. It was there that she caught sight of a small group of her female servants. They had stopped their work and were now standing about chattering. The women all stared in the same direction.

Indeed the house staff were staring at the last bit of camp followers that were tromping onto the property. The women in the group coming in were garishly dressed, waving and flirting openly with the soldiers about them. Their behavior was shocking. These women acted as low class as the ill mannered infantrymen at the farm conducted themselves.

Mrs. Leyanova stood in the middle, the rest of the girls gathered about her. All of them stared angrily at the small group of prostitutes that paraded in.

Myriam, a pretty quadroon servant, spoke up. "What are they doing here?

"They look like the kind of women that my mother never spoke to in town," twelve year old Polly commented.

"That is EXACTLY what they are," Pansy, another house servant, confirmed.

"Strumpets!" Myriam spat with contempt.

"Shlewhuh!" Mrs. Leyanova swore in her native tongue of Russian.

"What did she say?" young Polly asked.

"I think she called them harlots," Myriam surmised.

The whores carried on with no regard for the surroundings. They flirted loudly, even calling some of the men by their first names. Regular customers, no doubt.

"Just look at them— all tarted up," Pansy cursed. "Carrying on with those men and not even here five minutes yet!"

"Disgraceful!" Mrs. Leyanova said, hands planted firmly on her hips.

About this time, Betsy wandered into the midst of the group. The girl knew they wouldn't have stopped their work if there wasn't something wrong.

"What's the trouble?" she asked of the servants.

"They're the trouble," Leyanova answered, pointing accusingly in the direction of the prostitutes.

Miss Burwell's jaw dropped as her eyes widened. The young plantation mistress was aghast. She could not recall a time that women such as the likes of these had ever set a foot on her family's farm.

"Trollops!", said Betsy under her breath, staring in disbelief at the harridans.

"It's bad enough that we have to serve the Lobsters," Pansy spat, "and now we have to deal with their women!"

Betsy shook her head, still staring intently at the group of loose women. "No. I'm not about to let them live among us."

"What will you do," asked Polly.

"I'm going to speak to Captain Bordon about this," huffed Miss Burwell. And in an instant, she marched away from her servants. After moving past the kitchen and yet another of the outbuildings, Betsy soon spotted the dragoon's second in command conferring with Private Dunn. The two redcoats seemed not to notice the commotion that the newly arrived prostitutes were causing.

Betsy picked up her skirts and picked up her pace from a stomp to a meaningful trot. "Captain Bordon!" she called as she moved along quickly.

The officer and the private looked up at the girl. The dragoon adjutant could hear the urgency in the young woman's voice. He let out an audible sigh of agitation, causing the private beside him to smile and snicker, knowing this girl could be a handful of trouble. Hugh knew that something must be wrong, but hoped that it wasn't too serious.

The girl was soon beside the two dragoons. A scowl contorted the mouth on her pretty face as she looked up at the British officer. "Captain! I don't want those women here!"

"What women?" Hugh Bordon asked, perplexed.

"The doxies," Betsy answered, pointing at the camp followers moving through the men happily welcoming them onto the farm. "They can't stay! I won't allow it! This is NOT a brothel!"

After a quick look at the strumpets moving in he turned back to the girl. He wasn't pleased that she'd interrupted his conference with Private Dunn, and the disrespectful edge in her voice didn't help the situation.

Hugh glared down at the young woman. "Won't allow it?" he questioned with a raised eyebrow, questioningly repeating her words. "I don't think I like your tone, Miss Burwell."

The girl sucked in a quick breath as she took a step back from the men. She knew that the officer was indirectly warning her not to give orders to her captors. The girl stilled her tongue for an instant, composing herself. She had to come up with a better, more diplomatic and calm way to approach the officer about this.

Miss Burwell took in a deep breath, then let it out slowly, preparing herself to sound a bit more humble. "Captain, I have to draw the line somewhere," she said slowly, measuring her words to stay calm. "We can't have women like that living here."

"Why?" he asked.

"It's a distraction," she answered plainly.

Bordon looked at the private, Dunn, who still stood beside him. Both men shot each other amused grins. "A welcome one for the soldiers," the officer smirked.

Betsy was not amused and spoke up immediately. "And an unwelcome one for my household."

"That's ridiculous," the captain countered. "They won't bother you."

"Don't I have a say in what goes on at my own farm?"

"No," Bordon answered squarely.

"Don't you see?" Betsy explained. "Having them here will ruin my family's name."

"Nonsense," Hugh argued. "They're here for the soldiers. People will—"

"No. Just having them here will hurt business," she pointed out. "People will not want to buy or trade with us if they think we are running a bawdy house."

"You're being absurd," replied Bordon.

"Captain," she began emphatically, "there are brothels in the surrounding villages. Send your men there."

"Miss Burwell, I can't have my men constantly leaving camp to seek the services of prostitutes. I'd have no men left here at all!"

Suddenly, for some off reason, Captain Bordon recalled that Miss Burwell had just had her fifteenth birthday a few days ago, causing him to remember just how young this girl was. Good Lord, he thought, she was no more than fourteen just a few days ago, and now she is no more than fifteen. This led him to ask an odd question in the midst of their argument.

"Wait a moment," he said, stopping the flow of their discussion. "How is it that you know so much about this subject at your young age?"

Betsy's face showed a puzzled look rivaling the perplexed look on the captain's face. "What do you mean?" she queried, truly unsure what he referred to.

"Must you make me say it," Hugh said in exasperation, rolling his eyes at the girl's innocence.

"Your distress over your fiance's supposed lewd activities with Indian maidens," the captain reminded her. "And now your behavior over this. You are TOO YOUNG to know what transpires between men and women behind closed doors."

Betsy began to blush furiously, her cheeks pink and hot. She looked down at the ground, unable to look the big officer in the eye for the moment. The girl clasped her hands behind her back as she twisted her toe sheepishly on the ground. It was almost as if it was a secret as to how a young girl should know this much about the basic workings of sex, and now she would have to expose it.

"Well," she began to admit in a quiet and bashful tone, "I have read 'Fanny Hill'."

Young Private Dunn snickered at the girl's answer, obviously knowing the book and its subject matter made comic.

The dragoon commander rolled his eyes at Miss Burwell's reply, sighing heavily at the mere mention of that book. But the private's amusement drew ire from Captain Bordon. The older officer glared at the younger cavalryman.

Dunn quickly composed himself, wiping the smile from his face. "Sorry, sir."

Hugh Bordon gave the young woman a condescending look. "I'm shocked, Miss Burwell, that a cultured young woman such as yourself, from society, has read that rubbish!"

Betsy's mouth dropped open at his judgment. "I'll wager that half the young men serving under you have that book in their packs!," she shot back.

"That is a wager I do not care to participate in," he said, a bit embarrassed, knowing that the girl was right.

"Ha! They do!" she roared in triumph.

"Yes, but I prefer that they don't corrupt their minds with that filth," Bordon loathed admitting to the girl. "They are told to keep the book discrete and to continue to act like gentlemen."

Betsy and Private Dunn exchanged smiles, remembering the lewd content of the book in question. But Captain Bordon wasn't through yet.

"And where did you get the book?" he asked accusingly of Miss Burwell.

"I found it by accident in my brother's room," she answered innocently. "It told me what my mother nor anyone else would tell me."

The captain shook his head, still in disbelief that this young, innocent waif had read such a disgusting book, in his opinion. He continued to look down at the girl, silently scolding her for reading it.

Betsy felt the sudden need to defend herself. "Well, I needed to know what to expect of marriage!"

"There are more reputable sources than that drivel to inform you of what to expect of marrital life," Bordon advised. "But back to what we were discussing. Those….offensive women…keep the men's morale up. They are staying."

"Captain," she pleaded, "your family has a business. Surely you know how important a good reputation is to it."

"Yes, I do," the officer answered. "But it would be better if the women stay."

"Captain, you don't understand—"

"No, Miss Burwell," he interrupted sharply. "You don't understand my position. Though I am your enemy and captor, and a commander to these men, I must act in everyone's best interest."

The girl was too stunned to say anything. How could having common harridans around be in everyone's best interest, she wondered to herself.

Bordon could tell that the girl was puzzled. He continued to explain things. "You see, miss, you must think forward—into the future, if you like, of all that could possibly happen. Situations could escalate."

"I don't understand," Betsy said, in a lost voice.

"Miss Burwell," he began, "if I send the trollops away, then you will find the men discharging their urges on the nearest females—which happen to be the women on your staff."

"They wouldn't dare!" Betsy challenged, astonished that the captain would say such a thing. "You wouldn't let them, would you?"

"Well, the colonel and I can issue orders all we like, but orders can be broken," he warned. "I can't always control the men."

Captain Bordon continued on, trying to persuade the young plantation mistress to comprehend his thinking. "That new indentured girl is awfully young," Hugh cajoled. "You wouldn't want to see her compromised, would you?"

Betsy gasped. She was in disbelief that he would bring up young Polly's possible loss of her virtue. Too stunned to counter, she listened with saucer eyes to the officer.

"Suppose a couple of your female servants or slaves come up in a family way," continued the dragoon captain. "Then how will they attend to their work? How will they work and care for the babes? Then you have more mouths to feed."

Hugh watched the young woman carefully. She sighed and looked down at the ground, clearly defeated. The girl stood in silence, and Bordon could tell she was thinking about what he said.

Indeed Betsy was mulling over in her mind what the officer had said. She did see how the situation could escalate. But despite that, she still didn't like or want the camp whores on her farm. It was clear to her that she would have to take the lesser of two evils. The girl certainly didn't want her female servants and slaves taken advantage of by the soldiers.

"Please keep them away from us," Betsy asked quietly. "If you can keep them out of sight…"

"I'll make sure they set their tents up as far away from the house and buildings as possible," he promised.

"I hope the officers don't bring them up to the house so they can….ply their trade there," Betsy commented. "That would be an insult to me."

"They will be told to confine their activities to their tents," the captain assured.

"I'm still not happy with having them here," Betsy said. "As I am sure my staff won't be either."

As she spoke, she noticed Polly striding toward them. Miss Burwell certainly didn't want the young indentured servant hearing any of this conversation.

"They stay, Miss Burwell, and that's final." With that, Hugh turned back to Private Dunn, conversing with him again just as Polly arrived into the fold.

"Miss, this message came for you a moment ago," Miss Callan informed, handing the note to her mistress. "Its urgent!"

"Yes, thank you," said Betsy as she took the letter from the servant's hand. She watched as Polly turned to scamper away.

Miss Burwell did not recognize the writing on the letter, which looked as if it had been quickly written and sealed. She opened the note and began to read.

A message arriving for the plantation mistress did not escape Captain Bordon's notice. He wondered what was in the note, hoping for a good piece of useable intelligence.

Betsy read the note then gasped, putting her hand over her mouth. In disbelief, she quickly re-read the note.

The officer watched the young woman as she read, and noticed her seemingly go white, losing her color. He became concerned when he saw her gasp.

Her right arm dropped listlessly to her side, her hand still holding the note. Betsy looked out over the grass, feeling her head spin, and forgetting all sense of time and space. Then the tears came.

Hugh took a step away from Private Dunn, moving toward Betsy. She looked as if she might collapse.

"Miss Burwell, may I be of assistance?" he asked, truly concerned.

The girl, not even realizing she was doing it, put her right arm behind her, offering the letter to the officer. The man took another step and reached for the letter.

As he took it from the girl, he watched as she brought her hands up to cover her face. Then he heard her weeping softly.

Captain Bordon opened the letter and read it silently as Miss Burwell sobbed into her hands.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Yes-Mrs. Leyanova called the women "whores" in Russian. I wrote it phonetically as best as I could. I can't even attempt to reproduce it here how it is spelled in Russian. Trust me-I researched it!

Camp followers were not necessarily all whores. There were alot of women and children, some related to the soldiers, some not, that did the support work like sewing and cooking and nursing. And, the "working girls" followed, as well, especially to the British camps because the redcoats were decently paid. General George Washington did not like having camp followers around-especially the prostitutes. He didn't like having so many women and children coming into and out of the camps for obvious intelligence reasons, and he didn't like having the trollops there to take advantage of the men and their money and for the obvious moral reasons. But he let them stay because it kept the numbers of his troops up (he didn't have so many men deserting, or men sneaking away to brothels) and kept the morale up. The British commanders were more at ease with having the followers-especially the whores-around.

Fanny Hill-an INFAMOUS and popular novel from the 1700s. Also known as Fanny Hill: Memoirs Of A Woman Of Pleasure. It was written by John Cleland in England in 1748 while he was in debtors prison. It was an erotic novel complete with illustrations. Alot of people were educated about sex by reading it back then. And yes, it did make it into the backpacks of alot of soldiers during the Revolutionary War. I won't put the link here, but if you go to the Wikipedia website and type in Fanny Hill, more about the book will come up and also a few of the erotic illustrations, and MY MY! They are indeed racy!

Bawdy house-Brothel

Bawd, Bawdy, Doxy...18thc words for prositutes. Harridan, Strumpet, Trollop, Harlot...same thing...low class or loose women.

Lobster(s) - slang term of that era for Redcoat soldiers.