Chapter 20 Rage
"Will you meet me again when I return?"
"Yes," Bridget replied in a giddy whisper. The Irish girl suddenly felt shy and vulnerable as she looked up at Captain James Wilkins' handsome face. Her eyes could discern his dashing smile, even in the dark.
"May I kiss you goodnight, Miss Kilpatrick?" the officer asked as he looked down at her. The faint moonlight illuminated her pretty face just enough to see the light red freckles that dotted her cheeks.
The Fort had settled down for the night. From the discreet darkness of their little corner, the servant girl and the officer saw the gate sentries and an occasional lone person cross the courtyard. Captain Wilkins felt certain that no one could see them in their hiding place.
"Yes," answered Bridget, "you may."
The young Irish woman shivered with excitement as she felt the Captain take her hand. She watched him as he bent his tall frame slightly forward, then closed her eyes as she felt his lips softly graze her hand.
He was just as she expected: a gentleman. Miss Kilpatrick was thrilled to be treated with such manners. She remembered how the few men in Ireland that had drifted into her life had treated her: lowly. And now finally, the man she liked returned her affection courteously, just as a well brought up country Colonial gentry should.
Captain Wilkins protectively walked her to the edge of the darkness. "I'll send a message to you when I get back in a couple of days." He remained in the shadows at the edge of the porch, watching her as she disappeared into the main house.
Once inside, Bridget climbed the stairs effortlessly, as if floating on a cloud. She was bursting inside and wished to share the news with Miss Prescott of her first midnight rendezvous with Captain Wilkins. The servant knew Melanie would want to know, since she and Jim had known each other in the past.
The house was quiet as Bridget stepped onto the third floor landing. Even in the faint light coming in through the window at the end of the hallway, she spotted Melanie's door which was closed. The young Irish woman seemed to sail down the length of the hallway, ready to tell her friend everything.
Miss Kilpatrick rapped quietly on the door of Melanie's flat. "Melanie, are you awake?" she whispered through the door. When there was no answer, the servant gently turned the doorknob and slipped into the room, thinking Melanie was asleep. Bridget decided to wake her friend up and tell her the news.
As she closed the door quietly behind her, the young Irish woman heard muffled sobs. Miss Kilpatrick neared the bed and in the dark could see Melanie's rumpled silhouette slumped against the headboard.
"Melanie?" Bridget called, drawing ever closer to the bed.
"Bridget," she sniffled weakly, "Help me. He tied me up."
"Jesus, Mary, Joseph," the Irish servant gasped when she was close enough to make out her friend's bound wrists in the darkness. "What happened? I thought you were in the cells?"
The young Irish woman felt around the nightstand in the dark. She pulled the drawer open and instantly her fingers fell upon some matches. Miss Kilpatrick struck one and quickly lit the candle on the night table. Then, she carried the candlestick toward the table and set the oil lamp aglow as well.
Melanie answered her as she did this. "I was," Melanie stammered. "They freed me. I'd have been safer to have stayed there."
Bridget, concerned for her friend, quickly forgot the news she wanted to share with Melanie. The servant moved about the room, pulling open drawers and rummaging through them, looking for something sharp to cut Miss Prescott free.
"Hurry, Bridget," Melanie pleaded. "My wrists hurt and I can't feel my hands."
"I'm trying," soothed Bridget. "I can't seem to find anything sharp."
"HURRY," urged Melanie, her voice frantic and scared. "I need to get out of this room. I'm afraid he'll come back."
Miss Kilpatrick gave up her search and sat down next to Melanie on the bed. The servant knew something terrible had happened and that the young colonial was awfully frightened.
"I'm sorry, girl," Bridget apologized. "I'm going to have to leave you for a moment to get a knife from the kitchen."
"He'll hurt me again," Melanie wept. She hadn't heard a word the servant said.
"Melanie, did you hear me? I must go to the kitchens to get—"
"No!, " she cried, interrupting Bridget. "Don't leave me here alone! He'll come back for me! Please get me out of here! Help me hide!" Her voice was insane with fear.
"Alright," Bridget calmed, "I'll stay with you, but I've nothing to cut your bonds."
Just then, Melanie bucked up and began frantically pulling away from the bedpost, trying crazily to break the ropes holding her. The more she pulled, the more her bonds tightened. She winced aloud, feeling as if she was going to dislocate her shoulders.
Bridget stood up and took a step back from the bed. She looked on in horror at her friend's mad actions. The servant could see that was only the girl was only making things worse and knew she had to calm the girl down quickly.
She sat back down on the bed and put her hands gently on Miss Prescott's shoulders. "Melanie, Melanie," she cajoled," Please stop this. Your wrists are swollen so you cannot slip them out. You're making things worse."
Melanie struggled another moment, then collapsed into Bridget's arms, panting and exhausted from fighting her bonds. The poor girl began to weep uncontrollably as Bridget held her.
The Irish woman let her friend cry for a moment, letting her wear herself down further to the point that she could no longer fight. She stroked her hair back and noticed tears and rips in her dress, knowing there had been a struggle. She consoled her another minute, then spoke softly.
"Melanie," she coaxed, "tell me what happened. Who did this to you?"
"I can't…..say," stuttered the young girl. "If I tell, he'll hurt me again."
"I'd say that he's already hurt you enough," Bridget whispered, trying to keep her voice calm in order to keep Melanie in control. "Nothing can be done if you don't tell someone about this."
"They won't believe me," sobbed Melanie, heaving breaths.
Not knowing what to say to this, Bridget sat quietly another moment, listening to Melanie heave and sob, sucking in breaths, holding them, and sniffling all the while. As she held her friend and consoled her, she made the decision to go for help as soon as the girl calmed down a bit more.
"Oh, Bridget," she wept," It was horrible! He raped me again, here in my own room!" She began crying full scale again.
"While you were tied up," Bridget questioned.
"Yes, but that's not all he did."
"What else happened?"
"Oh, God, he….he….." stammered Melanie in between hard sobs, "Oh My God!..He…He…" Her voice dissolved again into tears.
"He what?" Bridget asked in a comforting voice. She truly wanted to help her friend.
"Oh, I can't even say it," the girl cried. "He….he….he took me as he would another man." She broke down completely into another crying jag.
Bridget Kilpatrick was astonished at the revelation that her friend had been sodomized. Stunned and horrified, she tried to stay calm, wanting to comfort Melanie and calm her down, as well.
"It…hurt," sobbed Melanie. "I've…never…."
"Shhhhh," soothed Bridget. "I know. Don't talk, just rest a moment. I'm going to get a knife to free you."
Miss Prescott didn't argue. Exhausted and sore, she laid panting and sobbing against the head board. Her arms and wrists ached and her head was pounding. Her pelvic region was sore and her most intimate parts, those which Bordon had violated, throbbed and burned. She felt as if he had split her pelvis in two.
* * * * * *
Once out of the room, Bridget headed straight to Colonel Tavington's quarters. The servant had made an assumption that since Tavington's unit was in charge of her care, and since she spent only little time under Commander Tarleton's dragoons, that someone in the former group was taking advantage of her. Appalled, Miss Kilpatrick was bound and determined to make this known to the Colonel, hoping he could stop it.
She knocked assertively on Tavington's door upon reaching the second story of the house. Bridget waited impatiently, yet quietly outside his door for him to answer.
Inside the room, Tavington was eased back in his chair, reading a letter from his friend, General John Burgoyne. He sighed in frustration at the knock on the door.
"Damn it," he swore as he glared at the door from his chair. "Never a moment's peace. I can't even get through a bloody letter without some kind of disruption!"
He rose from his chair and called, "I'll be there in a moment."
William was in a foul mood this evening. During the course of the day it had gone from bad to worse with all the demands and happenings. He'd been reprimanded by Lord Cornwallis and General O'Hara both earlier in the day. In the afternoon, Miss Prescott had managed to get herself thrown into the cells and he had to deal with that. He was incensed at her wild accusations regarding his Aide De Camp, Bordon. Will was sure it was just another scheme on her part in an escape attempt. And in the evening, he'd gone with Banastre Tarleton to the camp with intention of whoring, but instead, let Ban talk him into a card game. Tarleton had completely cleaned William out of all of the pocket money he carried plus a few shillings and pounds that he didn't have on him. Will was irritated at himself thinking that he'd have a chance to win over Tarleton, an accomplished gambler, and was angry that he'd have to raid his savings tomorrow morning to pay Banastre what he further owed him. And to top it all off, William had been looking forward to releasing some of his pent up sexual frustration with his favorite whore, only to find himself with no money at the end of the evening to spend on one.
William threw the door open to find the familiar Irish servant standing at his door.
They stood looking at one another for a minute.
Bridget was taken aback by his handsome appearance, though she could tell he was spent and tired. She swallowed as he stood before her, stripped down to his breeches, boots, and ruffled shirt, undone at the collar, his hair long and loose about his shoulders.
Likewise, Tavington raised an eyebrow at the pretty Irish servant standing before him. He'd never taken a second look at her before, but after having been denied of a doxy tonight, she suddenly looked very appealing to him. His mind wandered lewdly, trying to remember the last time he'd been with a woman—maybe a few nights ago or so? Maybe she'd consent to treat him to a roll in his bed tonight.
"Colonel Tavington," she began, "May I have a moment of your time please?"
"You may have more than a moment if you'd like," he smirked, throwing the door wide open. "Come in."
She entered his quarters and he shut the door behind him. He leaned back on the door, looking down at her with a lewd smile on his face.
"Colonel," she said hesitantly, "It's about Miss Prescott."
The mere mention of that girl's name got his attention, causing him much confusion. He still carried an unrequited fancy for her, Growing hopeful when he heard her name, he wondered if the girl had sent a message through the servant. He secretly hoped she was declaring fondness and affection for him. But on the other hand, he was irritated at her this day for having gotten herself into trouble and subsequently thrown into jail.
"What about her," he said turning serious. He straightened up and stepped away from the door.
"She's been raped, sir," replied Bridget in a nervous tone. "More than once."
"What?" Tavington exclaimed in disbelief. "Is this some kind of joke?"
"I assure you sir, it's not. She told me herself, and I found her a few moments ago, tied to the bedpost in her room."
"Miss Kilpatrick," he began in a sharp voice that implied no nonsense, "You'd best not be lying to me." His anger began to rise, wondering if this was a mistake, a lie, or a scheme.
"I'm not sir," she urged. "I think it's one of the men in your unit."
"What do you mean 'you think'"? he asked, wanting confirmation of her words.
"I'm not for sure who it is," she answered. "She refuses to tell me."
"Oh, bloody Hell," William swore angrily.
"And tonight, sir," Bridget stammered, "tonight he bu—". The girl stopped midsentence, suddenly unable to talk of the most recent incident. She had never spoken of something like this before with a man.
"He what?" Tavington asked.
"He," she stuttered, "he……forgive me, sir…..he….buggered her." Her face flushed red, having never used this foul slang in front of anyone before, although she'd overheard men say it many times. She looked away in embarrassment.
Tavington's face contorted into an angry scowl. He could hardly believe what she'd just said. "Who did this?!"
"She won't tell me."
William reached over to his bureau and grabbed his knife. The Colonel then tore out of his quarters with Miss Kilpatrick on his heels. The officer flew up the stairway, skipping steps two at a time, to the next floor.
He entered Melanie's room without knocking with Bridget close behind. William stomped over to the bed, where Miss Prescott laid in a heap. She began to cry again, embarrassed when she saw Tavington.
The officer cut the ropes. Melanie squirmed painfully away from her friend and the officer, wincing as she did. She suddenly felt as if she couldn't trust either of the two that stood before her.
"Miss Prescott, who did this to you," Tavington demanded.
"I can't say," Melanie replied still weeping.
"Melanie, it's alright," coaxed Bridget. "Tell him so that he can put a stop to this."
"I can't," she cried. "He'll know it was me and he'll hurt me again."
Tavington stood up straight, clearly angered by her refusal to identify her attacker. He marched to the door then turned back to the two young women. "Stay with her if she needs you," William instructed Bridget.
* * * * * *
Colonel Tavington brushed past Lieutenant Scott in the hallway. He stopped his provisional commander as he passed him. "Lieutenant."
"Sir," he answered in a weary voice. He was coming back in from evening patrol and was tired. He'd been in command tonight along with Captain Wentworth, since Bordon and Tavington were off this evening.
"I want you to gather all the Dragoons," he ordered. "Wake everyone up. I want to meet with all the men at the mill in 15 minutes."
"Yes sir."
With that, Tavington returned to his room angry and wondering who the culprit was. He was so caught up in his rage that he did not remember Miss Prescott's accusations against his second in command. But that was of little consequence: he didn't believe Bordon had done it, anyway.
The Colonel tried to compose himself. He pulled his waistcoat and riding jacket back on, but left his hair down. Then he left his quarters and walked purposefully toward the mill, thinking how he would address the men.
A quarter of an hour later, Tavington's unit of dragoons gathered around him at the mill. Many of the men were still in uniform, having just been relieved by Tarletons' legion on the overnight patrol. Some of the soldiers' uniforms were still on neatly, as if they were going to leave the fort again in a moment's notice; some of the men's uniforms hung in pieces anticipating returning to tents to relax. Cravats, jackets, waistcoats were missing here and there. The men that came from the whore's tents and who had been sleeping in their own tents were dressed in breeches only, some with shirts hanging out.
Major Bordon was next to the last to join the group, still in total uniform but with his light red hair out of its queue. Lieutenant Scott, still in his full uniform, unshaven and looking haggard after just returning from a long day's duty, made his way into the circle last after he'd gathered everyone up.
"I think that's it, sir," Scott said. About that time, Alex made his way into the group to stand next to his commander. All the men could sense that Tavington was furious over something, only just controlling his anger.
Bordon wondered what the problem was and why, as second in charge, he hadn't been told. He reasoned that maybe a message had just come from Lord Cornwallis too quickly to consult with Alex about it.
In a stern voice, Tavington began. "It has come to my attention that someone under my command has been taking advantage of Miss Prescott."
The group was silent. Accusing and wondering eyes darted to and fro, each person trying to figure out who had done this.
Bordon kept quiet as he started into a slow burn. "Damn it," he swore in thought to himself, "she told him! She told him after I warned her not to! Stupid girl!"
Colonel Tavington held his tongue for a moment, as he perused his group of soldiers. His mind studied the face of every man, searching for the perpetrator. As he did, his own eyes shot accusatory daggers at each dragoon, wondering if one of them would break and confess. William thought that his second in command was scrutinizing the group as well.
The commander was wrong. Alexander Bordon was trying to keep his swirling emotions under control. He suddenly felt trapped, assuming the discovery of his crime was imminent. The officer blamed Miss Prescott for this, feeling no guilt for his actions. After all, he was a man with physical needs to fulfill.
Bordon's anger escalated as he imagined Melanie Prescott naming him as the culprit. Now worried that he would lose his position in the dragoons as Aide-de-camp, he vowed to himself to take revenge upon the girl before his impending punishment—whatever it may be. Alex took a deep breath to compose himself, pressing his lips together, trying to look commanding, instead of guilty.
"I saw her condition tonight myself," Will continued, "then spoke to her. She refuses to divulge the identity of her aggressor, even after being ordered to."
Breathing a shallow sigh, Bordon was relieved that Miss Prescott hadn't identified him. He raged on though, silently within himself, angry that the girl had "disobeyed" his command to keep her mouth shut. On the surface, Alex pulled himself together again quickly, and looked over at Tavington as he continued his general reprimand.
"Now, I'm sure you all have figured out that the Major and I often….,' William hesitated, as if trying to find the right word, then continued, "overlook it……when you men have your way with the female prisoners since you are usually discreet about it," Tavington stated. "But Miss Prescott is an exception to this. She is not to be touched by anyone. She is of special interest to General Lord Cornwallis as he feels it's his duty to protect her since he knew her father."
William continued to keep his voice at the same level, albeit still colored with anger. "That young lady has been through enough this year. She doesn't need one of His Majesty's soldiers forcing himself upon her. If I hear of this happening again and I find out who has done it, I will hang that man myself!" His voice went up a notch, his rage finally starting to let loose.
He eyed his group of men angrily. "Do you all understand?"
The men all answered, numb and confused that they were all reprimanded. They would have heard something through the ranks if one of them had had his way with the pretty young lady. But they'd heard nothing.
"Dismissed!" Tavington ordered, stomping out of the group immediately and back toward the house. He did not stop to answer questions or talk to anyone along the way.
Bordon stood silently for a moment, contemplating the issue as the others scattered away. He steamed at the thought of what this discovery brought about. This meant that Tavington would be watching the men like a hawk. His own commander had given a direct order that Miss Prescott was not to be touched, so Alex, even if he could find a way to get at the girl, would be disobeying orders. That would put his position at risk, just as Melanie's revelation came damn near to causing. And just the fact that she, as a prisoner, had violated an officer's orders to keep quiet about the events, raised his ire to a level near destruction.
So, with a scowl on his face, Major Alexander Bordon marched with purpose toward the main house, Hell bent on vengeance.
* * * * * *
Just after Colonel Tavington questioned Miss Prescott, then abruptly left her room, she dissolved completely into tears, melting into Bridgett's arms. She looked up tearfully at her friend and spoke.
"Do you think the Colonel is angry at me?" she sobbed.
"Honestly, yes a little," Miss Kilpatrick answered. "You should not have been afraid to tell him who raped you. He wants to put a stop to it. Don't fear the anger. I believe he is angrier at finding out what has happened to you, and enraged at the soldier who did it."
Melanie wept another moment as Bridgett continued to console her. As the Irish girl held her sobbing friend, she shuddered at how angry the Colonel looked as he stomped out of the room just moments before. Having worked in the fort's main house for so many months, she had seen and heard several outburst of anger from both Dragoon commanders Bordon and Tavington. She usually felt sorry for anyone who ended up at the wrong end of the officer's rage, but she didn't this time. She felt that whoever did this to Melanie deserved Tavington's wrath. Bridgett wondered silently where the Colonel had gone and what he was going to do immediately or in the next few hours.
Sniffling and starting to calm down a bit, Melanie winced as she raised herself up from her fetal position on the bed. Bridgett, lost in thought, hadn't even noticed her friend pull away from her. Miss Prescott's words tore her from her musings.
"I hurt all over," Melanie whispered. "He was so rough with me."
"A hot bath will make you feel better," her Irish friend answered. "I'll order one for you now. Will you be alright here alone?"
Melanie nodded silently. She watched as Bridgett left the room, closing the door behind her. With that, the young colonial girl rose painfully to her feet. Walking gingerly a few steps over to where her robe hung, she disrobed slowly and awkwardly, each move hurting her body. She wrapped herself in the robe and leaned against the wall, not wanting to sit, which caused her discomfort after the Major had violated her there.
Out in the hallway, Bridgett walked briskly down the hall and turned the corner onto the third floor landing. As she looked down, two black slaves carried two pails of water up the stair toward her. A third black man carried a tub for bathing.
Miss Kilpatrick called down to the men as they moved up the steps. "Who is that bath for?"
"Lieutenant Scott," the first slave answered. "Just got back from duty."
"Oh," she simply said. As she watched the first man step beside her onto the landing, she spoke again. "Sir, might I ask you to take this to Miss Prescott's room instead? She is in need of a warm bath immediately."
"No, Miss Bridgett, we can't," the young black slave drawled. "This is for the officer, and you know the officers come first."
"Yes, I know," she replied, "But Miss Prescott needs a bath now because she's been hurt."
"But Miss, the Lieutenant ordered us," he argued as the other men with the buckets and tub piled up behind him, waiting quietly.
"Colonel Tavington knows of her condition and would support my request to you to re-route this bath to Miss Prescott's room. After that, you may go back down and fetch the Lieutenant's bath."
The men complied and followed Miss Kilpatrick to Melanie's room, where they found her leaning wearily against the wall. As soon as the bath was set up, Melanie requested Bridgett's help with easing her stiff body down into the tub. When that was done, her Irish friend left the room, leaving her in privacy for a few minutes to bathe and let the water relax her broken body.
Some moments later, Bridgett reappeared in her friend's room to check in on her. The Irish servant also wanted to see if Melanie wanted to talk a little more about her ordeal, but the girl declined to. She was tired and only wanted to sleep.
Miss Kilpatrick helped her colonial friend out of the tub and dressed her in her night gown. Bridget assisted Melanie across the room to her bed, where the girl eased herself down onto it with a groan.
Bridgett hugged Melanie before the girl laid down. She pulled the covers up around her and looked up at Miss Kilpatrick.
"You'll feel better in the morning since you've had a hot bath right away tonight," Bridget pointed out. "The warmth of the water tends to relax your nerves and loosen stiffened muscles and joints. Stay in bed tomorrow as long as you want, and I'll check in on you every so often."
"Thank you," replied Melanie. "Good night."
As the door shut quietly darkness cloaked the room. The young woman stayed awake a few moments, shuddering at every noise and creak she heard. She tried to be confident that since Colonel Tavington now knew of her ordeal, even though she didn't tell him that his second in charge had done it, and would put an end to her erratic nights of terror.
Sleep soon overtook her thought, making her to rest peacefully.
* * * * * *
Major Bordon stood in his room, panting partly from the brisk walk back to his room and his uncontrolled anger and blame toward Miss Prescott. He stood another moment, reeling from the girl's accusation of rape by a dragoon. Then, something within him broke. He tore from his room, determined to teach the prisoner a lesson of obedience, and punish her for her perceived transgression.
The officer entered Miss Prescott's room, where she lay sleeping. He charged to the bed and jerked her out of it.
Melanie awoke with a gasp, not knowing what was going on. She felt two strong hands gripping her shoulders. Her eyes flew open, sleepily recognizing Major Bordon's silhouette. Immediately, she panicked.
"NO!, Please," she begged, her voice hoarse from crying so hard earlier. Her limbs were still heavy with sleep, rebelling against her instinct to fight.
Suddenly, Alex struck her across the face. As he did, he growled, "Colonial Bitch!"
The slap stunned Melanie and brought tears to her eyes. The girl instantly tried to bring her hand to her burning cheek but found herself being thumped against the wall another time. She groaned as her already pained body hit the wall a second time.
"Don't obey very well, do you?" he asked sneeringly. "You told Colonel Tavington about our little 'arrangement'!"
"You mean rape," she croaked amidst her fear and pain, forgetting herself.
Alexander Bordon began shaking her by the shoulders violently. Miss Prescott could hear her heartbeat thundering in her ears as her body flopped limply back and forth. Pain wracked her being. When she tried to call for help, she found herself mute. Unable to utter a sound, all she could do was weep.
"You're going to be sorry that you couldn't keep your mouth shut," snarled Bordon, hinting at her impending doom.
Melanie's sobs were unsuppressed as a voice screamed inside her head. Oh God, No! Please don't let this happen again! Please stop this! She could see how furious he was and feared what was to come next. Another rape? A beating?
Unexpectedly, Melanie was lifted off her feet and tossed onto the bed. The girl landed on her back and immediately felt the officer's body on top of hers. Finding her arms free, she started to defend herself. While weeping, she managed to get a hit to Bordon's upper body and his face.
The strike to his face caught him off guard. With this, he caught both her wrists and pinned them above her head in one of his strong hands. Angered that she would dare fight him, he slapped her again across her face.
Crying harder now. Melanie continued to struggle with the Major as he held her down. Her voice found its way back into her throat, although scratchy and rough.
Nearly inaudible, she uttered words amidst the tears and struggle. "I hate you! I hate this place! I hate what you do to me!"
Her throat hurt from her heaving sobs along with her chest, as she labored for breath during the fight. Words once again found their way into her throat. In a raspy, near whisper, she looked up into Major Bordon's eyes and remarked, "I hope the rebels kill you!"
Still holding her down, hearing her taunt, Alex backhanded her. With anger now completely out of control, his free hand found her neck. Melanie's body went rigid as his fingers closed ominously around her throat.
It was worse than Melanie had feared. Her sobs stopped momentarily, and a strange but disjointed braveness overtook her. As she felt his fingers tighten a little more, she knew the end had to be near. Laboring for breath, she managed to squeak, "Go ahead and kill me! You should have let me die with my family in the first place! So do it now if you wish."
When his fingers did not tighten anymore, Melanie dissolved into tears, wishing he would kill her quickly. After all that had happened this year with the death of her family, losing her home, her perceived imprisonment in the fort, and subsequent incidents of rape, she felt that dying was better than living this way. She cried and sobbed even harder after another moment, as if he was torturing her by drawing out the strangling.
The tears streamed down Melanie's cheeks. Unable to wrestle the man anymore, she felt what little strength she had ebb from her body, along with her will to live. "I had feelings for you once," she murmured, her head turned to the side as she wept onto her own shoulder, unable to look upon Bordon's face again. "I hate you," she sobbed.
The major's hands loosened a little, allowing Melanie to catch a breath. He hadn't strangled her, as she thought he would. Still desperate and wanting her own death, her hand limply found its way down the bed and both their bodies. It found his belt where her fingers traipsed across the leather blindly until they felt his knife scabbard. The girl began to ease the weapon from its holder.
As she did, Bordon's hand whipped down there, pulling it out with lightning speed before the girl could ease it out the rest of the way. Equally as fast, he brought the weapon to her face in a threatening gesture. She looked at the blade for an instant. Then she slowly reached up to his fist that was curled about the hilt of the knife. Gently and slowly the girl pulled his hand holding the knife down to her neck and placed the blade against her own throat.
She looked up at her attacker with tears in her eyes, her face begging him for something. "Go ahead. Do it!", she pleaded. "I'm ready to die. I don't have anything left to live for. It's all gone. Family, virtue, dignity, all taken. Complete this and take my life as well," she begged softly, her voice breaking.
Oddly, those words affected Alex, having a queer effect on him. He felt remotely calm as confusion vanquished his rage. The officer slowly sheathed his knife, let go of the girl, and moved off her body and the bed. Standing in the middle of the floor, he looked down at the young woman and unexpectedly felt pity, as well.
Alexander Bordon was amazed and stunned at his emotions now. Duty, command, fighting, and anger had replaced these emotions years ago when he came to the Colonies to fight for His Majesty. He had become a stone out of necessity as a soldier and to shield his own heart. For some reason, this girl brought back feelings he hadn't let himself feel since his years in England, which were wrought with bad luck and personal tragedy with matters of the heart.
It took a moment for Melanie, through her tears, to even notice that the Major had suddenly stopped his assault on her. When she didn't feel his weight on her body, she looked up to see him standing mute in the middle of the room.
Immediately, she scooted back in the bed to the headboard, grabbing the heavy brass candlestick off the nightstand, ready to defend herself if need be. She was confused and scared, too frightened to say anything, not knowing what his next move was. She was befuddled as well by her own feelings—one moment wanting his assaults to end and begging him to go ahead and kill her; next moment defending herself again.
Suddenly, Major Bordon turned slowly and tottered, almost as if drunk and unable to walk, over to the door. He hesitated once there, with his hand on the doorknob. Still poised with the candle holder, the young woman watched him from her bed, still afraid of what he might do next. She was thankful, for the moment, that his actions against her had stopped.
Alex turned back to Melanie and spoke softly to her. "I apologize, Miss Prescott, for my actions. I will not force myself upon you again," he announced in a distant, monotone voice. It was almost as if Bordon was not present in his own body, yet some strange voice was speaking on his behalf.
He continued in the disconnected tone. "If you feel you must report me to Commander Tavington, then I will deal with my consequences. I assure you that I will not touch you again."
"I don't believe you," she spat. "And I fear that the retribution and wrath would be worse than what you've already done."
"You have nothing to be afraid of," he said flatly. His tone of voice failed to convince Miss Prescott.
She shot back. "Except you!"
"No," Bordon replied calmly. "I can assure you that there will be no retaliation on my part. You have my word."
"Get out," ordered Melanie boldly. The confusion of the situation brought her to tears again. She couldn't understand why he was doing this. Her voice breaking, she wept, "Just stay away from me."
The man hesitated at the door another moment, not saying anything else. Melanie watched him from the bed, perplexed at his words, yet not believing them. She watched him disappear through the door.
Scared and absolutely confounded by the officer's amazing yet contrary actions, the girl was tired and fed up with the unwanted excitement of the evening. She pulled her sore and bruised body up off the bed with much effort. She wrapped her robe around herself and did not bother to light a candle. Knowing her way in the dark, Miss Prescott padded quietly through the halls of the main building and across the compound to the servant's quarters.
Once at Bridget Kilpatrick's room, she let herself quietly into the small quarters where the Irish servant slept. Melanie did not bother waking her up. Instead, she lay down on a small cot across from her friend's bed. Feeling safe that the Major would not find her there, she covered herself with her own robe and fell instantly to sleep.
In the main house, Bordon in his confused state, had wandered back to his room. Once there he stripped down stiffly, as if an automaton, then climbed into bed. As he lie there, he tried to analyze his actions and why they had happened just a few moments ago. As he did, memories of long ago came back to him, flooding his mind. The hurt he had inflicted on Melanie and her subsequent tears made him remember the pain he'd felt in the past. He felt the sting of rejection by his childhood playmate and first love, Christine. Alex remembered the broken heart he suffered when spurned by his fiancée, Mary. The man recalled the burn of deception that he and the Bordon family in England had experienced at the hands of that village trollop, Jane. The major recollected the anger and frustration he underwent as Paulette manipulated and deceived him.
The realization that he was causing another human, a woman, continuing pain and distress stirred his heart, soul, and mind. The memories and seeing Miss Prescott's reaction to his actions unlocked emotions he had buried, trying to forget them; trying to forget his own pain. Remembering his pain and seeing hers made him understand better what he had done and why he had done it.
Alexander Bordon felt guilt now that he had made an innocent person suffer to pay for the sins of the past. He cursed himself now, as he had let his rage control him, when he had wrongly thought that he had been controlling his own feelings and emotions.
Closing his eyes, he winced as the pain of the past pierced his heart again. Alex knew that his position as a commander and intelligence officer could now be in jeopardy. He would take his punishment as a man, but he hoped that Miss Prescott would not turn him in.