Chapter 38 Somber Circumstances

Major Bordon leaned against the wall for another moment, taking in all that the surgeon had just told him. "Oh God," he thought to himself sadly, "what about Melanie? What will she do? What will she think? She will be devastated. She wanted family some day. My God!"

He closed his eyes and swallowed hard as the doctor's words echoed through his head.
"She's in a lot of pain…she lost a lot of blood….she's very weak….It doesn't look good….I don't know if she will make it….the girl's already been near to death before……her scarred body may not hold up against this."

Alexander suddenly saw Melanie in his mind, at Pembroke, running toward her horse. "Melanie! Melanie!" he recalled himself shouting after her, wanting her to stop, angry at the girl for defying him. The officer felt heartsick now at how cross he had been with her. He regretted it, longing to take back the momentary anger and self pride he felt and replace it with concern and protection for her.

After another moment, Alex felt sick to his stomach. The aide-de-camp recalled more of the horrid scene as it haunted him. He saw Tavington stretch his arm out, aiming his gun. Then a gunshot. Then the horse fell. Then the horse rolled over Melanie's supine, helpless, pregnant body. Then his own screams. "Melanie! Oh God Melanie!"

Confusion reigned still over the distraught officer. How? Why? I don't understand. She was able to get up after the fall. Melanie got up after that animal tumbled on her! She rode away! She made it to the fort! Why? This can't be! She was fine! She got up! She rode again!

The memory refused to leave. The gunshot. The horse rearing. Melanie falling. Melanie helpless and stunned on the ground. The heavy beast rolling over her.

Bordon shook his head as if trying to shake loose the terrible thoughts. Instead, the most dreaded one continued to hang on. His mind's eye saw it a few more times, each time more slowly than the preceding one, as if to accent it and make it worse; and more evil. Colonel Tavington stretches his arm, taking aim at Melanie. He pulls the trigger of his pistol. A shot rings out. The horse rears. Melanie falls. The animal barreling over her poor body.

Alex was breathing hard when the fog of the memories finally lifted. His body had become rigid with anger, trembling slightly. The officer's eyes narrowed with determination and cold thoughts. "Someone has to pay for this. Someone has to pay for Melanie's pain." With thoughts askew and anger possessing the man, Alexander Bordon's legs were soon moving on their own, off in pursuit of recompense.

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William Tavington sat on the veranda relaxing in the cool night air, sipping a glass of wine. He was wrapping up the evening after having written his report of the last week's events in the villages of St. George, Pembroke, and activities along the Santee River homes and plantations. The dragoon commander had just drained the last drop of his drink and was ready to rise and seek his bed when he felt the point of a sword at his throat.

The colonel looked up, directly in to the face of his second in command. He noticed that Bordon had an icy look on his face mixed with eyes narrowed in anger. The subordinate seemed strangely calm.

"Draw a last breath before I run you through," Alex advised in an eerily controlled voice.

William rose slowly from his seat, the sword point never relaxed and ever touching his collar as he moved. "You're quite insubordinate," the colonel said at first in a wry voice.

In an instant his demeanor turned to deadly seriousness as he drew his own sword. "You dare challenge me, Bordon."

The subordinate did not answer, nor did he release the pressure of the sword against his superior's neck. Instead, he pushed forward slightly, nudging his commander with sword drawn as well down off the porch and into an opening on the grass in front of the house.

Alex eased and honorably let his commander ready himself. He spoke as Tavington raised his sword in response to Bordon.

"You caused Melanie's miscarriage," he accused coldly, "You killed my child."

The colonel had heard the rumors of Miss Prescott's misfortune, already making their way around the fort. "Don't you have that backwards," Tavington answered equally as cool and just as much in control.

"No," Bordon insisted. "This is your fault. You shot the horse and caused her fall."

"If you'd have kept your woman under control then she wouldn't have run," Tavington countered, his voice raised slightly. "I was forced to take drastic actions."

With that, the two began sparring, jabbing at each other with the instruments. Both were skilled fencers, the actions against one another in balance. The clanking of metal and hurling of boisterous insults and accusations at each other soon drew a crowd.

After a couple of moments, Bordon was able to knock the weapon from Tavington's hands and run the man face first into a solid part of the porch railing. He had superhuman strength as he held his commander against the wall with his forearm and drew his pistol with the other. He pressed the gun to Tavington's head.

"You are going to be the one to tell her!" Bordon shouted angrily.

"Tell her what," William asked as he struggled against his subordinate's strong grip.

"That it's your fault," Alex answered, his voice cracking slightly. "That your actions have caused her to never be able to bear children."

William stopped struggling for the moment, closed his own eyes and cringed. He winced inwardly as well, never wanting to hurt this woman that he secretly held affection for. The colonel did not think at the time that his actions would turn out to harm the pregnant girl. He reacted quickly out of training, knowing to shoot the horse out from under a rider to hinder them.

Out of Tavington's own arrogance and pride, he said nothing and admitted the same. Instead he found the strength to turn himself about, push his attacker back and lunge for his grounded sword. He raised the weapon again, once again challenging his adjutant.

As the two officers dueled, Lord Cornwallis suddenly appeared on the house's veranda with two very important people behind him. He had been in the library most of the evening entertaining these two representatives from the British government who'd made the voyage over recently to witness the war first hand. They'd just finished a late dinner and drinks when interrupted by the commotion.

The Lord General was at first mortified by the actions of his officers. But the embarrassment soon turned to fury. His guests were mute, not knowing what to say or think of the situation before them.

Cornwallis soon caught sight of his adjutant O'Hara and waved him over. "Break that up," he ordered into his ear, "And bring them to my office immediately!"

"Yes sir!"

General O'Hara broke up the fight just as the Lord General ushered his guests away, making apologies all the while.

Moments later, a furious Cornwallis entered his office where the three officers were already waiting for him. He heaved a frustrated sigh.

"Damn it," he swore. "I thought I had enough trouble with Tarleton and Hanger and their bunch, always in trouble with drinking and gambling. And now I have you two fighting!"

The Lord General sat down at his desk, folded his hands and glared at the two dragoon officers in disgust. "So? What is the problem?"

Both officers stayed silent, not wishing to divulge the cause to their superior. Cornwallis rolled his eyes. "Well? Speak up!"

"Major Bordon seems to think that I caused Miss Prescott's miscarriage."

"You SHOT the horse out from under her! The beast fell on her!"

"If she wouldn't have run—"

"Enough! Enough!" Cornwallis snorted. After a moment of silence passed, the general spoke again. "Once again it seems that a certain young woman has caused trouble amongst my officers."

The general paused then continued. "Major Bordon, you questioned months ago after one of Miss Prescott's many escape attempts if she was really worth all the trouble she caused. I now wonder the same thing myself."

The Lord General got up from his desk and took a couple of steps toward the window. After looking out at the night sky, he looked back at the quiet officers. "Now, I understand that young men such as yourselves have needs but your absolute priority needs to be victory. Your minds must be set on winning this war. Women and all else are second—a very DISTANT second!"

He shot a hard look at his officers silently telling them that he meant every word he said. "I'm inclined to send Miss Prescott away. She seems to be such a distraction. Perhaps the arrangements should be reevaluated."

Bordon panicked, but tried to conceal as much of it as possible. "Sir, please—"

"No!," Cornwallis cut him off sharply. "All of your minds need to be on battle. No more disruptions!"

General Cornwallis sighed wearily, then went on. "Now, I will expect the two of you to settle any future disputes as gentlemen, and in a less disruptive fashion. If I catch this again, you will be stripped of your command. Is that clear?"

"Yes, my lord," Tavington answered dutifully.

Bordon did not answer; he was preoccupied thinking about Melanie. He worried about her health at the moment, then wondered if the Lord General would make good on his threat to send her away.

"Is that understood, Major?" Cornwallis asked as he cleared his throat.

"Yes, sir."

Just then, there was a knock on the door. O'Hara let Miss Kilpatrick poke her head into the office where she motioned for Major Bordon to join her at the door.

"You may see Miss Prescott now," she said. "She's settled in a bit."

With that, the Major quickly disappeared with the Irish servant. Colonel Tavington slipped out not far behind them.

"Colonel O'Hara," began Lord Cornwallis after the officers had adjourned, "I think we should write to General Clinton and ask him to restore Miss Prescott's plantation back to her possession. I'm no longer willing to deal with the trouble that seems to surround the young woman. The sooner we get her out of here, the better."

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Alex watched Melanie as she slept, though not restfully. She seemed to stir every few moments or so, uttering a sigh or pained groan. He would sponge her face once in awhile with a cool cloth, and caress her cheek with his hand.

Whenever it looked like she would awaken, he'd whisper, "It's Alex, darling. I'm here. You're alright."

He looked at his pocket watch, seeing by the candlelight that it was after four in the morning. The officer rubbed his eyes and sighed as he looked forlornly upon the woman he loved so much. As he continued to stare intently at the girl, Colonel Tarleton stole quietly into the room.

"Ah, Bordy," Banastre said in a quiet voice, "I heard what happened to her. I'm sorry, old boy."

"Thank you. How are you doing?"

"Much better now," Colonel Tarleton answered as he pulled a chair near Bordon. "I'm sure I'll be back on my horse soon. I couldn't sleep any longer. I thought I'd keep you company for awhile."

"Thanks," Bordon replied.

"How is she?"

"Not good, sir," Alex answered sadly with a shake of his head. "She lost the child. But worse, the doctor says she won't be able to have any more children."

"Oh no," Banastre lamented.

"To be honest," Alexander began, "I had my doubts as to whether our love affair would last much beyond the end of this war. In all reality, I will have to go home to England and she would stay here."

"Not necessarily," Tarleton pointed out. "You could arrange for her to join you in England as your mistress."

"I couldn't," Bordon said. "It's bad enough that I've made her into a whore here. And if she regains her plantation back from His Majesty, then she will need to stay here to run it."

The major sighed, then continued. "In a way, I'm relieved that she is no longer pregnant and that I won't have a by blow with her. But, I am so sad for her. Even though things may not last between us, I still want her to have a chance at a future with someone else and to have a family with whoever that lucky man would be."

"Good Lord," Tarleton acknowledged, "If she wants a child that badly she will be able to go to any orphanage and get all that she wants—war seems to leave an awful lot of orphans."

"Or for that matter," continued Ban, "she is so wealthy she could buy a baby from some unfortunate strumpet that can't afford the child."

His fellow dragoon's words did not make Alex feel any better. "This if my fault."

"No it's not," Banastre disagreed. "These things just happen."

"I should have begged Colonel Tavington to let her stay here."

"Bordon, suppose the miscarriage didn't happen," Ban mused, "and suppose she did have the baby. And suppose you went home to England. Then what would she do alone and with a by blow?"

"She has money," Alex said, reaching for some kind of justification.

"Come now," countered Tarleton. "We both know that all the money in the world is no substitute for a proper family or the child's father. And no exorbitant amount can buy the child out of the lifelong title of 'bastard'. That child will always be illegitimate no matter what."

"Though sad and unfortunate as this miscarriage is," Colonel Tarleton continued, "Maybe it is a blessing in disguise for both of you."

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Mid afternoon the next day, Bridget Kilpatrick sat with her friend, Miss Prescott, as the girl awoke from resting. The doctor had checked on her a few hours ago, informing her of the miscarriage and grim prognosis for children in the future. The girl had not taken it well, requested to be left alone, then promptly cried herself to sleep.

Miss Kilpatrick was told that Melanie had been made known of her condition. It was then that Bridget had decided that she should be there for her friend whenever she should awake, knowing that the young girl would need support. She checked in on the young woman, found her sleeping, and positioned herself quietly at the side of her bed, waiting for her to awaken.

The Irish servant smiled with relief as the young woman's eyelids fluttered open. She took her hand and spoke softly to her. "How are you feeling, dear?"

"There's some pain," Melanie replied, "but it's tolerable."

"Are you hungry?"

"No. I feel sick."

"You must try and eat something to help you regain your strength," advised Miss Kilpatrick.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. As Bridget moved toward the door, Melanie sank back into her pillow and closed her eyes. She was deeply depressed, feeling like she was now "damaged merchandise", ruined for life and future with any man. And although she knew her friend Bridget meant well and was concerned for her, Melanie wished she would leave her alone, at least for awhile.

Miss Prescott opened her eyes when she felt her Irish friend at her side again.

"It's the major," she announced in a gentle voice. "He's anxious to see you."

"Send him away," Melanie requested, her voice cracking.

"He's worried about you."

"I don't want to see him."

"Melanie," coaxed Miss Kilpatrick, "He deserves to see you. And you are too weak to fight with me over this."

Miss Prescott sighed and looked away.

"Look," began Bridgett, "I'll let the two of you visit alone for a few moments, then I'll come back and check in. If at that time you are too tired to go on or want him to leave, then I'll usher him out."

Melanie said nothing back to indicate if the arrangement was alright. Her friend was insistent, leaving the ailing girl to do nothing but sigh.

The young woman closed her eyes again, hearing Bridgett leave. She also heard her lover enter the room just as quietly. Melanie opened her eyes slowly when she felt Alexander's lips brush her cheek.

"I love you," he whispered, then touched her hand.

Miss Prescott said nothing. She didn't know whether to be stoic, force a smile, or cry.

"How do you feel today?" asked Alex as he seated himself in the chair by her bedside.

"Sick," she answered in a cold and quiet voice.

"Do you remember me sitting with you last night?"

"Partially."

With that, an awkward and heavy silence passed between the two. Bordon wasn't sure what to say or do; whether to comfort her or throw himself at her feet and beg forgiveness. Melanie just wanted him to leave.

Alex finally broke the silence. "I'm so sorry about all of this," he stated slowly and cautiously.

"You have no worries anymore," Melanie said in her weak voice, yet with a sharp edge to the tone. "You don't have to take care of a bastard child."

"Oh, Melanie," he cried, shaking his head in disappointment at her words.

"Or take care of a mistress, for that matter," she added cruelly. "You can go home now."

"What?"

"You can go back to England," she stated in a shaky voice, "free and with no obligations."

"Melanie, I said I would not abandon you."

"You're not. I'm cutting you loose."

Alex didn't understand. He began to protest, "I love you—"

"Don't! Please don't!" Melanie cut him off sharply as she began to cry.

Major Bordon was at a loss for words. He could do nothing but stare at Melanie's weeping form in disbelief. A knock at the door soon brought him out of his trance.

Miss Kilpatrick breezed in only to find her distraught friend crying and the officer now standing helplessly near the bed wringing his hands.

She tried to comfort the helpless officer. "Sir, she has been through a lot. She is sad and emotional and may be for a few days or weeks."

The Irish servant took his arm gently and moved him toward the door. "Give her some time."

Alex nodded in mute acknowledgement of her words. He felt badly, not knowing what to do to make things better.

"Major," she said, trying to bring him out of his haze of confusion, "Lieutenant Kidwell is waiting in the hallway for you."

Before he disappeared through the door, Bridgett called to him from his lover's bedside. "Sir, she will get over this," she assured him.

He nodded and closed the door. Once in the hallway, the officer was met by young Kidwell.

"Sir, there are visitors waiting for you downstairs," the junior officer informed. "I'll escort you there."

"Thank you."

In a moment, the pair of dragoons entered the drawing room of the main house. A woman turned around to face the men.

"Alexander!" she cried in an English accent as she walked toward him, grabbing both his hands, then planting a kiss on his cheek. A young boy of about five clung to her skirts.

Major Bordon was taken aback by the visitor, stunned for the moment. He looked at Lieutenant Kidwell, who stood in the doorway with a look of thorough confusion on his face.

"Uh….uh… Lieutenant Kidwell," he began, trying to regain his composure, "this is my wife, Mrs. Paulette Bordon. And that's my son, Henry."