Chapter 46 The Walking Wounded
Melanie spent yet another sleepless night: this time not only grieving over Alex, but dealing with confusion over Colonel Tavington. She wasn't sure how to feel about the advance he'd made toward her yesterday. The girl thought that Tavington was attractive and charming, but she was still so much in love with Major Bordon. She wasn't ready to let go of the dead officer.
This morning, the two had breakfast together, and Melanie was relieved that they were joined by Colonel Wilton, the officer in charge of the medical operations at the plantation. At least the young woman wouldn't have to be alone with Tavington.
After breakfast, Miss Prescott and Colonel Tavington moved onto the porch. She took mending with her to do and he took his diary. The two exchanged small talk as they attended to their tasks, neither one mentioning what had happened yesterday, feeling better to deny that it did.
Both heard wagons coming up the lane and surmised that this must be the start of the wounded men filtering down from North Carolina. The two soon went back to their tasks after watching the orderlies descending on the vehicles. In just a few short moments, the couple were approached by a medic they didn't recognize; probably one who had come with the medical train from the north.
"Excuse me, do you know where I may find Miss Prescott?"
"That's me," answered Melanie as she put down her sewing.
"There's an officer that's asking for you," the orderly declared. "He came with us from North Carolina."
The young woman put her mending down on the chair beside her and stood up. As she did, the young soldier continued.
"Do you know where I may find a Colonel Tavington?"
"I am," William answered.
"The man wondered if you were here, as well. Come. I'll take you both to him."
The officer and the girl soon found themselves walking fast to try to keep up with the young orderly. Melanie had to ask him to slow down as the injured and still aching colonel needed help in walking the distance.
They were led to a stretcher and surprised to find Colonel Banastre Tarleton upon it, one of the upright, less heavily wounded. The young dragoon commander's right arm was in a sling, his right hand heavily bandaged. The man's red hair and uniform were askew, and though he was exhausted Ban was trying his best to suppress his groans of pain.
"He rode horseback most of the way with that bum hand of his," the orderly commented. "I don't know how he did it."
Melanie immediately became worried for the colonel. All the bedrooms in the main house were full of wounded. The young woman did not want one of her protectors from the fort recovering in a tent. Once again, she wanted to repay the gallantry of the redcoats who had rescued her and given her safe haven.
Miss Prescott wanted to make room for them man in the house, but she needed to put him some place that would afford him some privacy to recover. She needed the large drawing room and the dining room to remain free for entertaining and meetings. The girl could not give up the study as both she and Mr. Andrews used it as the farm office. The young woman sighed as she thought. The answer to the dilemma of where to put Colonel Tarleton came to her in an instant.
One of the house servants passed by toting two empty pails, catching Miss Prescott's eye. She called out to the girl. "Diedre, please make up a bed in the formal parlor for this man."
"Yes, Miss," the servant obeyed and nodded her head. She immediatly quickened her step toward the manor house.
Colonel Tarleton's wound had obviously hurt more than his physical being, Tavington and Melanie noticed right away. The injury had hurt the young officer's pride, as well, they surmised, for he was already protesting his treatment.
"I don't need this litter," he argued. "I rested in the wagon. I think I can walk now."
With that, Banastre tried shakily to climb off the stretcher but was stopped by William. "You look like you need more rest," he commented. "Let us get you inside; we can talk then."
The group made it to the house within a few moments and were soon standing in the small, formal parlor. Diedre was finishing up making the soft couch into a bed when they'd arrived.
Colonel Tarleton began rattling off while waiting to be placed on the couch. He spoke quickly, in an agitated manner. "The battle was horrific," he began, "Up in Guilford Courthouse in North Carolina. I took a ball in my hand in an earlier skirmish."
William and Melanie leaned in over him to listen to his account. "I made my way to a cabin nearby. A woman and a young boy bandaged the hand as best they could so I could get on with things," stated Ban. "I rode into the main battle and fought as best as I could with the wound. When it was over, the surgeon wanted to take the hand. I begged him not to. He said there was a chance he could save the hand if he only took my two smashed fingers. I'm out of danger thus far."
Colonel Tavington and Miss Prescott looked up at each other, silently shooting one another doubtful looks. The continued to listen as the injured officer went on. "The victory was ours but we lost so many men. I was assigned to lead the medical column down here. I rode as long as I could. I weakened last night and could no longer ride. They made room for me in the supply buckboard. The pain became awful during the trek."
"I'll get you some Laudanum, Colonel," Melanie promised. The young plantation mistress then hurried off in pursuit of the painkiller for the wounded man.
"You look bad," Tavington said, half jokingly trying to lighten the mood.
"Not half as bad as you did after that battle in January," Tarleton retorted. The young officer then groaned as he shifted upon the couch.
"Yes," acknowledged Will with a chuckle, "I remember you coming to bid farewell just before you left."
"I was chasing about in North Carolina when I heard the news that you were better and had been sent here."
"Miss Prescott has been by my side during this recovery," Tavington proclaimed. "She will take care of you as well. She is a compassionate woman."
With that, Melanie appeared again in the room holding a cup of tea for the ailing dragoon. "Drink this," she said, carefully placing the cup of Laudanum laced tea into Tarleton's left hand.
While sipping on the liquid, one of the camp doctors knocked on the door frame of the parlor. "I was asked to come up and see one of the officers that has recently arrived."
"Yes," acknowledged Miss Prescott motioning him to the couch.
The surgeon quickly set about to looking Colonel Tarleton over. He lingered in looking at the young officer's hand, making Banastre nervous and fidgety. While the exam was going on, the officer began to feel the effects of the Laudanum, taking the edge off his pain yet making him drowsy and paranoid.
"I can't believe the battlefield surgeon didn't amputate your hand completely," the doctor commented while still looking at the maimed limb. "If infection sets in it could cost his whole arm."
Tavington and Melanie said nothing , both wishing the surgeon wasn't so free with speaking his opinion in front of their injured friend. "I'll clean it and redress the wound as best I can. Well have to monitor it closely."
Banastre, who was on the verge of falling into sleep and with the painkiller clouding his mind, became frightened. He reached for his pistol, fumbling, then finally finding it with his left hand. The young officer handed it over to Tavington.
"Tav, here's my gun," he slurred slowly. "If he tries to take my hand, shoot him!"
With that, Tarleton promptly passed out.
William trained his gun on the poor doctor. "You heard the colonel; clean the wound."
In the late afternoon, Colonel Tavington, after resting his own recovering body, made his way to his fellow dragoons' quarters. He relieved Miss Prescott who had been sitting by the side of Colonel Tarleton all afternoon. Just as he sat down, a sleeping Banastre was beginning to rouse.
"Did you have a good rest?" asked William.
"Yes," Ban answered sleepily. He shifted his body on the couch with a pained groan as he looked at his hand, fresh with clean bandages. "Well, I can see I still have my hand."
"Yes," Tavington laughed. "The surgeon thought it best to let you keep it."
A slight break of silence passed among the two officers. Banastre broke the quiet with a request.
"Tav, would you please do something for me?" His speech was hesitant and pain filled.
"Yes."
"I need you to help me write a resignation letter to Lord Cornwallis," Ban said, slowly.
William was taken aback, unable to believe what he was hearing. "Are you sure you want to resign? I mean, I was going to leave at first as well, but I hope to be able to fight again soon. I recently wrote to the Earl and asked for reassignment to something less physically demanding while I'm recovering. I'll probably end up as a staff officer and I abhor the idea of it, but I hate worse not being in the military. Are you really sure about leaving?"
Banastre sighed hard, then spoke. "It is different for you. You are in one whole piece; you've lost nothing of your body. And you will recover and fight again. Even when I recover, I will still always be missing part of my dominant hand. How am I to wield a sword, fire a pistol, let alone ride with no dominant hand? Christ! Even now you have to write for me, so a staff position isn't even possible. My days as a cavalry leader, and a member of His Majesty's military, are over."
"I understand," William replied in a disappointed tone. "It won't be the same without you."
"It won't be the same for me either," Ban admitted. "I don't even know what I will do. I'm sure they will send me home."
Colonel Tavington, still hoping there was some other solution, spoke up again. "Are you sure about this?"
"Yes," Banastre confirmed. "What other alternative is there?"
A couple of nights later, Tavington lay asleep in a fitful slumber when a scream pierced the dark quiet. He rolled over staying still, wondering where the noise had come from. There was a moment of silence in which William pushed himself up to sitting. He now wondered if maybe he'd dreamt the scream.
"Alex! Oh No! ALEX!!"
The colonel threw back the covers on his bed and jumped from it. He ran to the door as he heard Miss Prescott screaming, wondering what was going on.
At the plantation mistress' door, he could hear her continuing shouts. "Alex, PLEASE!"
"Miss Prescott?" he shouted through the door. When there was no response, he knocked and called to her again. "Miss Prescott?"
"No! Darling don't do it!"
At her latest scream, he barged into her bedroom. From the door, the dim moonlight through the window faintly illuminated the room. He could see the girl flailing about on the bed, crying and screaming. William immediately went to her, realizing she was having a nightmare.
"Miss Prescott!" he said as he began to lightly shake her.
"Alex, don't!" she cried out, still unaware anyone was in the room with her. "Please come back!"
"Melanie, Melanie!" the officer said, shaking the girl a little harder hoping the use of her first name would help to rouse her awake.
"Don't go, Alex!"
Colonel Tavington continued shaking Miss Prescott, hoping the dream would break. "Melanie! Wake up! It's just a dream! Wake up!"
The girl woke up suddenly, sitting bolt upright, still not realizing she was not alone in her room. She looked about the dark room, still confused and feeling the effects of sleep and a nightmare. The girl was trembling when she finally realized Colonel Tavington was sitting before her on her bed.
Melanie dissolved into tears and collapsed into the colonel's arms. He held the shaking girl as she wept hard onto his shoulder. "Oh Alex, Alex…" she sobbed.
"Shhhh….it was a bad dream," Tavington comforted. "It's over now. You're alright."
The poor girl continued to cry, still so upset by her nightmare of Alex. "I saw him dying again," she sobbed.
"It was a nightmare," the officer reassured, "You're safe."
After a few moments of crying, the young woman pushed herself away from the colonel.
"Something has been bothering me now for so many weeks," she sniffled.
"What is it," William asked as he wiped a tear from her cheek.
"Months ago, once when I was angry with Alex," she began in a sorrowful voice, "I told him that I hated him and that I hoped the rebels would kill him. And now look…." Her voice broke and she began to cry again. "This is all my fault. I brought it upon him."
The girl buried her face in her hands, weeping hard again. "That is ridiculous," the colonel said in a subdued voice. "You did not curse him. He was a soldier. He knew what he was getting into."
As her tears were near subsiding, she looked back up at the colonel in the dim light of her room. They looked into each other's eyes intently. Melanie sighed and looked away, her eyes still filled with tears.
William leaned forward and kissed her forehead lightly and then her cheek. Then he brushed a soft kiss across her lips. The sniffling girl, her tears still lightly flowing, did not try to push the man away. He kissed her again on the lips and lingered a little this time. He pulled away to find tears still trailing down her cheeks.
The officer kissed her a third time, this one a bit harder. Melanie put her hands to his chest to push him away. "No…Please don't."
The colonel caught her wrists to stop her refusal of him. He kissed her lips again, then moved his mouth to her ear. "Shhh……Melanie..," he murmured as his lips tickled the shell of it. William's hands let go of her wrists and moved up to the neck of her nightgown. As he did, he continued to kiss her slowly, delighted to find no resistance from the girl.
Melanie gave in to her needs as a woman. It had been so many months since she had been with a man and the feeling of want had over taken her. She kissed him back, opening her mouth to let his tongue softly explore within.
Tavington's hands found the drawstring at the neck of her nightgown. A quick tug on it released it and his hands soon pushed the material down and off her shoulders. As he pulled the nightgown down to expose her breasts, he began to push Melanie down onto her back.
She protested halfheartedly as he did, whispering against his lips. Miss Prescott did not want the two of them to be caught in her bed. "No..Don't," she whispered. "Stop."
Her protests turned to sighs of lust when she felt Tavington's hand on her breast, caressing it softly. "Oh," she cooed. His hand moved to the other breast, rolling and teasing her nipples, making them taut. Melanie closed her eyes and let the officer do as he pleased.
Soon she felt his wet mouth on her right nipple, sucking it gently, but insistently, making her moan quietly. All the while his right hand caressed and kneaded her left breast.
Soon his mouth kissed a trail up her chest and neck to where their lips met again. He kissed her deeply, still pleased that Miss Prescott was letting him do so. His right hand soon left her chest to move downwards. He placed it softly on her left leg at the knee, where the hem of her night gown had bunched its way up under the sheets, and began to move up her leg under the material.
Melanie suddenly panicked at the feel of this. Although she thought the colonel attractive and charming and that she wanted a man in her bed again, she was still in love with Alex and felt that these actions betrayed his memory.
Miss Prescott pushed his hands away from her and his body off of hers as she sat up rigidly. "Don't!"
The stunned and frustrated colonel said nothing for the moment, instead heaving a sigh of disappointment. Melanie pulled her gown back up, wanting to cover herself.
"I….I can't….." she stammered. "I'm not ready for another man."
"There will be someone else," William insisted.
"But not now," commented the girl. "I'm not ready to let go of him."
Patience snapped inside of Colonel Tavington. He was used to getting his way with women; he wasn't used to being rebuffed. The officer harbored much affection for this particular woman, and he hated having to compete with the ghost of his aide-de-camp for Melanie's attention.
"Why are you letting a dead man drag you down into the grave with him?," asked a much frustrated Tavington.
"Get out!," Melanie said as she burst into tears. His words were cruel, but she knew them to be the truth. "Go! Just go!"
"As you wish," the colonel retorted. He left the room quickly.
Both of them spent restless nights in their own respective beds, confused by their own and one another's actions.
The next morning, the Miss Prescott ran right into Colonel Tavington as she crossed the drawing room on her way to see Commander Tarleton. The two stood awkwardly in each other's presence, not sure what to say.
William broke the deafening silence. "I heard you crying for Alex in your sleep last night. I only wanted to comfort you."
"Funny how your comfort turned into an advance," Melanie shot back, not giving the man even a hint of a chance to apologize.
"Don't act surprised at my feelings," he defended. "You've known how I—"
"If you should hear me crying again in the middle of the night," she interrupted him, not wanting to hear him verbalize his feelings, "don't come to me. Just let me grieve alone."
"You won't mourn him forever," the officer pointed out.
"But I'll always love him."
"As you do your late family," observed Tavington. "Just because you get on without them in life doesn't mean you don't love them or that you've forgotten them."
"Colonel, I'm not ready to let go of Alex yet," Melanie proclaimed.
"You'll have to let go of him some day," Tavington simply said.
"Yes….I know," Melanie relented with sadness in her voice. With that, she crossed the room to the small parlor.
She knocked on the door and peered into the room. Banastre smiled at her from the couch.
"Ah..Miss Prescott. I'm glad to see you."
"Are you comfortable here?" she asked.
"Yes. Thank you for putting me in your house," Tarleton replied.
"How could I not," she asked. "I owed that much to you and Commander Tavington for saving my life months ago."
"How are you, Miss Prescott? The last time I saw you at the fort you were beside yourself with grief. You still seem so sad."
"I…I miss Alex still so much," replied Melanie.
"Please allow me to say that Major Bordon was a good soldier," began Tarleton. "Although he was Tavington's second in command, he was of valuable assistance to me and never hesitated to help my brigade when asked. I've heard all that was said of you two, but I saw that the two of you loved each other deeply."
"Thank you," the girl answered.
"You know, this is the first time that I've had the chance to think about the men that I've lost, my friends and officers. And to grieve. I didn't have the opportunity to do that while commanding and doing battle."
Colonel Tarleton took a breath, then went on. "Two close friends, both officers, died within days of each other in the same week. I can't help but dwell on that now."
"Who were they," asked Melanie.
"Oh, Major Patrick Ferguson and Major John Andre," he answered. "John was hung up in New York back in October. Pattie died in battle just five days later on King's Mountain. William and I heard that the rebels stripped his corpse and pissed on it."
"Shameful," Melanie remarked while shaking her head. She still marveled at the things war made people, including herself, do.
"How goes it here without your family," a concerned Ban asked.
"Different than it was before," the young woman replied. "I miss them so. However, your army retained my servant's who were so faithful to my father. They kept the farm going in our absence. Now, they teach me the business. And the hospital here is a great distraction. I help out with it. I'm glad to have the company now of two old friends."
She smiled at the injured colonel, who returned an equally cordial one. He sighed, and then frowned.
"I've resigned my commission."
"Yes, I've heard," answered Miss Prescott. "I'm sad to hear of it. What will you do now?"
"I suppose they will send me home to England," Tarleton replied.
"What will you do there," asked Melanie with concern.
"Resume my law studies. Try to get into Parliament. Chase the ladies. Play cards. I'll find something to occupy my time."
"Funny, but it's been upsetting for me to see you and commander Tavington, who I feel are the two fiercest of his Majesty's warriors, injured," the young plantation mistress commented. "Very distressing for you both seem so lost."
Banastre raised his eyebrows and addressed her thought. "We're all the 'walking wounded'. Tav and I are not only injured physically, but our pride is hurt as well from losing a battle. Our security is wounded also due to a rather uncertain future now."
The officer heaved a sigh, then went on. "Ah but you are wounded as well, from all that you have been through these last months of your life. Especially over losing your family and Alexander."
Melanie was touched by the officer's show of insight and caring, a side which he didn't often show to the world as he much rather cared to be a happy go lucky, but fierce soldier. The girl reached across the couch to take the colonel's uninjured left hand. She held it gently and softly.
"Colonel Tavington keeps telling me that we will get through all this," she relayed simply.
"We will. Humans always find a way," Banastre agreed.