Chapter 49 Dilemmas And Worries

General Tavington walked along the lane from the main hospital tent toward the house. He was always so amazed at how hot the South Carolina days became once spring had arrived. It was mid morning and the man was already looking for respite from the sun. The officer found a spot in the shade just to the side of the house, relieved that the group of privates that had occupied those chairs last night had left them there.

William sat down and stretched his legs out in front of him. The general fished a dispatch he'd received out of his pocket and looked over it again.

29 April 1781

Dear General Tavington,

First let me congratulate you on your recent promotion to Brigadier, a position you have well deserved. I am sorry to be so tardy with my well wishes, but things have been insane her of late. I believe the town is beginning to settle down again after this last bit of business.

I would like to meet with you at headquarters in Camden as soon as possible. Since the remnants of your unit had been folded into Colonel Tarleton's unit in January, we have had trouble getting recruits. We would like to expand the cavalry again to encompass a second unit. I am anxious to discuss this possibility with you and get your opinion.

I look forward to seeing you in Camden.

With warmest regards,

Lord Rawdon

The officer heaved a sigh. He was settling into his new duties as an advisor and liaison on the General's staff, but he missed the physicality of the legion. The riding, the fighting, even intelligence activities—he longed to be involved in that again, but knew he had to heal a bit more if he ever expected to fully return to that kind of life.

Tavington knew the wagon that would accompany him to Camden was nearly ready to leave, but the small detachment of men hadn't assembled at the vehicle yet. This was good for William who needed a few minutes of rest after having been on his feet this morning moving through the hospital tents meeting with some of the injured. The officer was content to relax for a few moments under the shade of the tree.

Meanwhile inside the house, Miss Prescott trotted down the stairway as fast as she could for she was already a few minutes late for a meeting with Mr. Andrews. It was now the beginning of May and the young woman was anxious to hear about the profits and losses for the winter months and to see how the first couple of months of spring business were shaping up. She also hoped to discuss plans for the summer months at the plantation, as well.

As the girl bounded down the stairs, she peered over the rail into the large drawing room looking for General Tavington. Melanie had not seen the officer yet this morning and had missed him. Since the incident in the barn a few days ago in which he'd pinned her against the wall and they'd shared a passionate exchange, the man had not touched her. Indeed he'd been a perfect gentleman, keeping to his word he'd given her a while back that he would make no more advances to her. The girl had secretly hoped he would "slip up" on his word again as she'd enjoyed their fleeting moment in the horse stall.

At the bottom of the steps, she paused a moment to crane her head the direction of the dining room, hoping to catch the man in there, but he was nowhere to be seen. The young woman took a breath and shrugged it off.

She sashayed into the office with a quick apology for her tardiness. It was only after she sat down that she noticed that Mrs. Sloane, the head housekeeper, was seated and in the office. The matronly head of the house never attended business meetings; Melanie was perplexed.

Before she could ask why the servant was there, the overseer spoke up, answering her question. "Miss Prescott, I've asked Mrs. Sloane to attend the meeting this morning as I have a rather delicate matter to discuss that I may need her help with."

The younger woman, trusting his judgment, shook her head in acknowledgement. "Yes. Very well," she answered in a puzzled voice.

Melanie settled back in the seat and looked at her farm manager. Mr. Andrews folded his hands and placed them on the desk, then took a deep breath.

"As you know, I've been visiting with our customers and corresponding with them," he began. "And….uh……we have a problem."

"Yes?"

"Three of our largest accounts no longer wish to continue commerce with us," the man answered cautiously.

"Who?, " Melanie asked as her face contorted with concern.

"The Carlyles, the Burtons, and the Maitlands," replied Andrews.

"Why?" The young girl sat forward on the edge of the chair, her eyes wide with concern and bewilderment. "Our business is fair and honest, and everyone has come to know that."

"Yes, they have," the overseer assured, "but it's not the business per se. They have reservations about doing business with you."

"With me?", she asked. "But the business runs just the same as when father was alive. He built it and you are at the helm."

"Well,….it….uh," Mr. Andrews stammered, "they don't like……or…they don't want to…um..Mrs. Sloane, if you would, please."

"Miss, it's just that—"

"Wait a moment," Melanie interrupted the housekeeper, already putting two and two together. "Let me guess. They don't want to do business with Brutal Bordon's mistress." A scowl crossed her face. Contempt seeped into her soul as she became upset with those three particular customers when she recalled how hard her father had worked for them.

Her answer was met with her two servants shooting quizzical looks at each other across the study. The housekeeper spoke up.

"Well, miss….it's just that—"

"No," Melanie said, politely waving off her servant's words. She turned in her seat back to facing the desk. "Please Mr. Andrews," she bade, "My father trusted you and I do, as well. And though this is delicate, you may tell me anything."

"Yes miss," he acknowledged. "It is not so much who you were with….it is the….activity….you engaged in with the man. Though you may have done what you did to stay alive, they only see it as indecent and lewd behavior. They have labeled you a loose and immoral woman. They are afraid that you may be corrupt and dishonest, let alone what people would think of them for engaging in business with a …….forgive me…….what they think of as a sinful woman."

An awkward silence filled the room as they ruminated on the words the overseer had just said. Melanie then heaved a heavy sigh.

"Thank you, Mr. Andrews," she stated in a disappointed voice yet trying to stay stoic. "I understand that must have been hard for you to tell me, but I appreciate that you were direct and honest. It is not a wonder my father trusted you implicitly."

Melanie stood up and paced a few steps as the servants watched her. "Well, what I have done in the past cannot be changed now," she said in a strong voice, trying to keep it to a business monotone. "I take responsibility for my actions. But for now, we are in danger of not breaking even this year without those three accounts. So, what can I do to repair my reputation and salvage the future of this plantation?"

Andrews paused, took a breath then answered. "Marriage. Preferably to someone local who is known and of a good family and standing."

Melanie's heart sank. Though she had dreamed of being married and before her miscarriage, longed to have a family, the girl wanted it when she was ready for it. The young woman also wanted what her parents had: love and romance before they married, with a proper courtship. This revelation seemed to dash all of Miss Prescott's dreams. The plantation mistress wondered if there was any other way to rectify the situation.

She sighed then spoke. "I understand. May I have a day or two to think all this over and to perhaps investigate if they may be any other possible solution?"

"Yes, miss."

Visibly shaken and disappointed, Miss Prescott excused herself and made her way to the study's door. Just before she walked through it, Mr. Andrews called to her from the desk.

"Miss, I wish I had better news for you."

Melanie said nothing, only shaking her head in acknowledgment of her overseer's apology. The girl then left the office, walking aimlessly through the house for a moment, still in shock.

Unbeknownst to Miss Prescott, Mr. Andrews, and Mrs. Sloane during their meeting in the study, someone had heard the whole conversation right through the open window. In fact, the chair that General Tavington sat in, languishing in the shade while waiting to leave for Camden, was right outside of the mansion's office. The occupants had no idea anyone was out there for the window was raised quite a few feet off the ground as the first floor of the house sat over a half cellar. From where the three were, they could not see anyone outside the office under the tree.

Tavington did not purposely want to hear this and had no idea it was even going on. He felt badly that he'd overheard an apparently private conversation, but felt worse for Miss Prescott by what was revealed to her. The officer could tell by the tone of her voice that she was startled by the unfortunate news and flabbergasted by the seemingly only possible solution. Indeed, only a few short years ago, William had been in a similar, sort of forced situation in business.

The officer recalled back when he was twenty, when he was called home urgently to take over his father's faltering business. The young man had to drop out of school to do this. The general certainly knew how desperate the young woman must feel since he'd been in similar shoes. Tavington knew all too well that with the blessing of money and success through a family business sometimes came the sacrifices one often didn't want to make to save it. He shook his head and sighed as he arose from his seat, knowing that Miss Prescott had a hard decision ahead of her to deal with.

General Tavington walked out of the shade and stared down the lane toward the wagon and saw that the small escort of soldiers was beginning to assemble. He quickly flagged down a stable boy to fetch his steed. As he waited for his horse, he noticed Miss Prescott wander onto the veranda, looking lost and distraught.

The officer walked over to greet her. "Good morning, Miss Prescott," he called to her as he extended his arm to her.

Melanie forced a smile as she took hold of his gentlemanly hand, helping her down the steps. She descended slowly. "Good day, General Tavington."

The girl slipped her hand from his and waved to one of her servants passing by. "Would you have my horse brought around, please," she directed, "I'd like to ride the plantation."

"Yes. Right away, miss."

"Something wrong, Miss Prescott," William asked in his most innocent voice, knowing full well what troubled the girl.

She heaved a sigh. "Oh….business….problems." Melanie looked over to see a groom bringing Tavington's saddled horse to him. This seemed to bring her out of her own problems for the moment for the young woman immediately worried for the officer. Miss Prescott was concerned knowing that his nearly four month old wounds still plagued him in this stage of his continuing recovery. The man still hadn't been able to ride long without irritating his injuries.

In worry, the plantation mistress spoke up. "General, where do you ride to?," she asked.

"Camden," he replied, "I have military business there." The officer took off his new General's staff uniform coat, a long one, folded it and stuffed it into his saddle bag.

"But we had word that there was just a battle there," she exclaimed. "There could be rebels lingering."

"I full well know that, Miss Prescott," Tavington informed in an irritated tone.

"I hear the rumors," she said as she grabbed his arm. "The snipers shoot officers first! Highest rank—"

"Why do you think I took my jacket off," he said with a smart smile as he put his tricornered hat on.

"You can't go without an escort," she protested.

The officer stepped close to her. Looking down at the young woman, he proclaimed, "Miss Prescott, I do know how to defend myself. I've been an officer all these years!"

Melanie became angry, spouting off as the man reached up to grab his saddle. "Honestly, you're just like Alex Bordon! You think you are invincible and that you'll never get hurt!"

"On the contrary," countered William as he lifted his leg over the horse. "I'm even more aware now of getting hurt. I'll be fine."

The girl rushed toward his horse. "But Willi—…". She stopped short, painfully aware that she was using his first name. Melanie corrected herself. "But general, what about an escort?"

"I have one," he replied. "I'm riding with a small detachment of men and a wagon to Camden to pick up some wounded."

"Oh," the young woman said in a subdued voice, feeling silly for thinking that a seasoned officer would leave without an escort.

"Miss Prescott, must you know all my business?" he asked in a manner of scolding. From atop his horse, he frowned down at the girl, trying to keep a serious look on his face, but chiding her out of his own playfulness. The officer chuckled inwardly at teasing the plantation mistress.

"No, sir," apologized Melanie humbly. "Sorry."

"Don't be," he cheered, a smile breaking his scowl. "It's nice to have a woman concerned for my welfare."

William nodded his head to her then nudged his horse forward. Miss Prescott watched him as he rode easily up the lane to meet the awaiting wagon.

Melanie suddenly realized that she'd made a huge fuss and felt embarrassed. She looked at the ground, blushing furiously from head to toe, and hoped that no one had seen the exchange with the general. As she continued to wait for her horse, she wondered why she had fretted so openly over the officer.