Chapter 58 Behind Closed Doors

"Has the General returned yet?," Melanie asked the servants as she peeked her head into the preparation kitchen of the house.

"No, Ma'am," a chorus answered from the servants.

It was nearly ten o'clock at night. Melanie was preparing to go to bed and there was no sign of her husband. General Tavington had ridden into the nearby village of Devington today to close a new business deal with a new client for the plantation. She had kissed him goodbye at eleven this morning and really thought he'd be home by supper.

"Has there been any word from him?," an anxious Mrs. Tavington asked, hoping her husband had sent a message back to the farm.

"No," Mrs. Sloane said. "Would you like to know if there's a message or when he's arrived?"

"Uh….no," Melanie said with a weary shake of her head. "I'm going to retire now. I'll just see him upstairs whenever he comes in."

"Very good, Ma'am," Mrs. Sloane replied. "Good night."

"Yes, Good night to all of you," Mrs. Tavington bid to the servants.

Melanie ascended the curving stairway, candle in hand, wondering what was taking William so long. She had rather hoped to have dinner with him and spend a quiet evening with the man. Once in their bedroom, she drew the light curtains over the open windows which let in the cooling evening breeze. The June day had been so hot that the young woman was glad to strip down to just her light, gauzy chemise.

Mrs. Tavington stretched out across the bed on top of the covers and began to read. The girl tried to put the thoughts of Will's tardiness out of her head and enjoy the book. Sometime during her reading, she fell asleep over the book and on top of the covers.

The young woman awoke when a bank of cool breezes swept across her body. She propped herself up on her elbow and looked about the room, somewhat disoriented. Melanie soon realized that she'd fallen asleep while reading. She closed the book as she sat up and looked across the room to the clock, which read nearly midnight.

The young wife got out of bed and walked to the window. She pushed the curtain aside and looked out over the dark green, hoping to see William riding up the lane. When she didn't, she sighed and walked back to the bed. Mrs. Tavington laid her book on the nightstand and crawled into bed under the covers. Giving up on seeing her husband tonight, she blew out the candle and laid her head on the pillow, soon falling asleep.

Sometime later, Melanie awoke to banging about in her bedroom. She sat up, pulling the covers over her body modestly, and looked about the dark room. The girl sighed with relief when she recognized her husband's silhouette in the dark.

"Oh, you're awake," she heard a surprised William say. She noticed that he was slurring his words. Mrs. Tavington quickly surmised that her husband had been drinking.

"I am now," Melanie retorted.

"Sorry darling," the officer apologized as he tried to stay upright while removing his jacket.

"You've been drinking," she stated, only thinly veiling the accusation as a statement.

"Oh, just a wee bit," he smirked, then burst into laughter as if he'd just accidentally revealed a secret.

"Will, lay down and I'll get you some Ward's and a cold rag for your head," his wife requested, wanting to help him stave off the inevitable hangover she knew he would have.

"No, I feel fine," he slurred as his jacket hit the floor, missing the chairback he'd aimed for. "Help me with my cravat, darling?"

Mrs. Tavington got out of bed and strode across the floor to where her husband stood. The young woman reached up to his neck and began loosening his stock, catching a whiff of his breath as she did.

"Oh, my Lord, William! You smell like a brewery!," she declared as her fingers struggled to work his cravat loose. The girl was finding this not an easy task as the general's body swayed back and forth.

"Sorry darling," he apologized. Will then lowered his head to steal a kiss from his wife, which she quickly evaded.

Melanie stepped back from Will, watching as he tottered while unbuttoning his vest and shirt. She wondered what else besides drinking he had been doing all this time that he was gone but was afraid to ask, not sure she wanted to know the answer.

General Tavington could tell that his wife was slightly miffed at him. Fussing with getting his shirt off, he eventually freed it from his torso and dropped it onto the floor. He now stood before her in nothing but his black breeches.

"I was a good husband," he stammered with his alcohol laced tongue. "I've not been with any other women tonight." The officer moved toward his wife.

She stepped back away from him. "Will, please," she said in a tone trying to deter him. The young woman knew that he probably wanted to have relations, but she had no desire to lay with a drunken man—even if it was her husband.

"Melanie! Come here!," General Tavington exclaimed in a commanding tone.

"No, Will. Not tonight," she answered.

The officer took a step closer to his wife and narrowed his eyes at her. "You DARE refuse my husbandly right?", asked Will, stammering out his question.

"Just tonight," the young woman replied in a meek voice, trying to keep calm. She was becoming a little alarmed, remembering how he'd threatened her on their wedding night and how volatile his temper could be. She desperately tried to keep the mood light. The girl ran a teasing finger tip down his shoulder and over his bicep. "You may have me all you like tomorrow when you're sober."

Tavington caught her hand, clasping it hard. "No! I want you now," he proclaimed as he backed her up to the wall. The inebriated officer once again tried to steal a kiss from her, which she dodged.

Mrs. Tavington was now with her back flat against the wall. She yanked her hand out of William's and pressed herself back harder into the wall, wishing she could melt into it. The young woman once again tried reasoning with her drunken husband.

"William….it's just….I…I want you to remember our time together," the girl stated. "With you this intoxicated, I fear you won't recall the passion we share."

"It will be thunderous as it always is," William snidely shot back. With that, he moved his body to where it barely touched his wife's, and pushed his hands up under her chemise top.

Melanie instinctively slapped him across the face. He stopped his fumbling hands instantly and pulled back from her. Will then grabbed her shoulders, pinning her to the wall. His wife swung to slap him again but he caught her wrist, squeezing it hard.

"You dare defy me?" he questioned with fury in his eyes as he looked down at her.

The young woman panicked. "Will STOP!," she screamed, hoping to alert someone—anyone—to help her.

Just after she yelled, the general slapped her hard across the face, leaving her stunned. Her hand automatically went to her cheek, covering the stinging patch of skin. The girl looked up at her husband with questioning tears in her eyes.

Soon she felt William's body pushing her into the wall, pinning her there with his weight. He began pawing all over her body drunkenly with his hands. Melanie stood still in shock over being hit by her husband, doing nothing to stop him. Soon she felt one of his hands slip up her top and the other pulling her skirt up.

Suddenly, Mrs. Tavington snapped out of her stupor and began to push Will's insistant hands away. She fought him as best as she could. Struggling still against him, she finally got a push into his weaving body, just enough of one to wedge herself from his hold.

Melanie ran from the room, Will's hand tearing the delicate material of her skirt as he grabbed at it to try to stop her. The intoxicated officer reached out after her, stretching his body far, lost his balance, then fell to the floor, allowing the young woman to flee the room.

"Get back here now, Melanie!"

As she ran down the hallway, the woman noticed that her screaming had roused at least two of the servants. She noticed that Mrs. Sloane and Diedre were standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking up in horror at the commotion. Mrs. Tavington shot the servants a look that begged for them to help her.

Diedre, the young housemaid, was so disturbed by what she saw that she started up the stairway, wanting to get to the plantation's mistress. The girl was stopped, however, by Mrs. Sloane as she put a commanding hand on her wrist, silently cautioning her to stop.

"No! We don't interfere," she whispered the warning. Mr. Andrews and Mrs. Sloane both had to remind the staff from time to time not to interfere in anything going on between the master and the mistress of the house. So, Diedre watched helplessly as her mistress beseeched anyone within earshot for help.

Melanie reached the far bedroom at the end of the hallway. The young woman slammed the door behind her and locked it. She only had a few seconds to catch her breath before General Tavington was soon pounding on it with ferocity.

"OPEN THIS DOOR, WOMAN!"

"No," his wife yelled back through the door.

"MELANIE!" he barked ferociously.

"Please, Will, just lay down and sleep it off!", she shouted to him.

"If you think a locked door can keep me out, you are sorely mistaken!" the drunken officer snarled.

Mrs. Tavington stood in the middle of the bedroom, wringing her hands. She hoped that William, in his drunkenness, would get discouraged at the barrier between them and go away. The girl tiptoed across the rug to the window, looking outside, not knowing what she was looking for in the way of help.

Suddenly, she heard a loud crashing sound as the door seemed to explode. William had kicked the door open, breaking the lock completely and splintering all the wood around it.

The angry officer stormed through the door and grabbed his wife's arm in a bruising hold, making her whimper. He then started pulling her toward the door, looking down at her with eyes burning in anger.

"Lock me out, will you?!", he snorted, pulling her along all the while. "I'll be damned if my wife is going to deny me my right!"

Tavington dragged her down the hall by the wrist, the stunned servants still standing at the foot of the stairs watching the scene unfold. Melanie tried to resist, every few feet digging her heels into the hallway carpet runner only to nearly stumble each time.

"No Will NO!," a frantic Melanie screamed.

Once back in their bedroom, William slammed the door shut and threw his wife into the middle of the room. The man stepped toward her menacingly, pointing at the bed.

"Get into that bed, now!" Tavington ordered.

There was no time for his wife to think, so she shot back, standing her ground as best she could. "No, I won't!", she refused. "Not while you're drunk!"

The alcohol only served to lower the general's threshold that held his temper. His wife's resistance and the locked door had put the man over the edge and he was determined not to take "no" for an answer.

"It isn't a choice, Melanie," he growled through gritted teeth, "NOW DO IT!"

Tears once again stung hard at the young woman's eyes. The woman was desperate, not wanting to go through with the act yet not wanting to get hurt bodily again.

She tried begging meekly again to him. "Will, please don't make me."

General Tavington had had enough. He walked to where his weapon belt hung over the spindle on the bed's footboard. Once there, he drew his sword from its scabbard.

Seeing this, Melanie panicked, not sure what her drunken husband would do. Now extremely frightened, she watched his actions intently, still wondering how she could get away from him.

The officer lunged at her, grabbing her in a lightning quick motion. "Oh God, No! Don't! William PLEASE!" she pleaded, sure that he was going to kill her.

The general pitched the young woman hard into the wall, her face hitting it squarely. She had only a second to blink the blurred vision from her eyes before her husband was right behind her again. He twisted her arm hard up and behind her back at a painful angle, making her wince.

That alone and the slight pressure kept her effectively pushed against the wall.

As he held her there with one hand, he drew back the other hand that held the his saber. In an instant he brought the sword down, whacking the woman severely across her bottom with the flat side of it. The sting of it against her was worse than any other hit she'd ever received in her life before. She saw white sheets flash before her eyes at the point of contact, the gauzy material of her skirt not affording her skin any protection. Melanie howled out in pain, then fought to catch her breath.

The young woman stayed against the wall, not even sure if she could stand after that painful strike to her body. Then she felt Will loosen his grip on her slightly, and it was just enough for her to slip away from the wall. She stumbled toward the doorway.

Before she could get there, William struck her again with the weapon's flat side. This time, the strike contacted her legs just above her knees, knocking her legs out from under her. Melanie saw flashes of light before her eyes with the pain. She screamed out again in shock and pain as she fell face forward onto the floor.

As her body and mind were occupied with the burning, searing pain, Tavington landed on top of her and turned her body over supine beneath him. "You will give me what I want," yelled William. The officer roughly pried her legs apart, keeping them open wide with his knees.

Melanie tried her best to fight him from beneath but soon found herself overpowered. Will grabbed her wrists and pinned them down to the floor above her head. With superior strength, he shifted himself to where he held both her wrists now in one of his hands, effectively holding her body down with his. He quickly fumbled with his breeches, getting them undone and freed his raging erection.

"No William! I'm not ready to receive you," she begged, feeling that she wasn't wet between her legs for him to easily penetrate her. The girl knew it would hurt without sufficient vaginal lubrication.

Her husband paid no heed to her pleadings. After positioning himself at her entrance, he shoved his stiffened manhood up into her as hard as he could, forcing it in, making his wife cry out in pain. Will heaved himself forcefully in and out of her, making Melanie wail aloud, feeling as though someone was using a saw to cut up into her.

"Oh, William oh God! Please stop," she begged weakly through her tears. He had beaten his poor wife's will down. "You won't get completion while you're this drunk!"

The reasoning and begging fell on deaf ears. Still holding her down with one hand, he pushed her chemise up over her chest. His mouth latched on to one of her nipples, sucking hard to where it was painful and not pleasure filled.

Melanie writhed in misery below him, knowing that a man full of alcohol might take forever—or even not at all—to ejaculate. With no lubrication between her legs, it could be a long, painful night.

She turned her head to the side and wept as William continued banging himself into her. He had been at it for some many minutes. The continued driving of his cock into her dryness felt like sandpaper to her. The young woman prayed for him to either come or pass out soon.

After what seemed like an eternity, the woman turned her head back toward her husband just in time to see his eyes close. His motions stopped and his body collapsed onto hers.

Melanie stopped her crying and listened to William. When she heard deep breathing, she realized that he had passed out. With that, she cautiously pushed his body off of hers, lest she risk waking him from his stupor. The girl rolled her battered body over carefully, then used the footboard of the bed to pull herself up to standing.

Then the girl made her way toward the door, walking gingerly as she did, wincing with pain from the dry intercourse. The young woman felt as if she had been rubbed raw. As she stepped softly, she looked about their bedroom, seeing the disarray of things broken and knocked askew, clothes scattered about the floor, all showing signs of a struggle.

Mrs. Tavington eased herself down the stairs, fighting back tears again as she quietly entered the parlor. The girl stood in a quiet stupor in the middle of the room, still shocked at what William had just done to her. She was startled suddenly and jumped when Mrs. Sloane entered the area.

The head housekeeper had not only seen the struggle, but heard most of it from where she stood on the first floor. She was saddened for not only the young wife, whom she'd known since the girl was little, but also for the couple. She could recall only a handful of fights between the young woman's parents, the late Mr. and Mrs. Prescott, who loved each other madly and faithfully. The servant was upset to see this newly married couple fighting after just a few short weeks of bliss. She also worried for the mistress, hoping that Tavington was now showing true colors, maybe turning out to be an abusive drunk—she didn't know the officer that well.

Melanie's face and eyes were red and swollen from crying, and her left cheek was starting to bruise from where William had slapped her. Her chemise was torn, and the poor girl looked weary and frazzled.

Mrs. Tavington wasn't sure how much Mrs. Sloane had seen and heard. Though the girl was embarrassed, she held her head up, and tried to act as if she was fine, wanting to spare both herself and the trusted servant anymore embarrassment. "Um….Mrs. Sloane," she began, trying to keep her voice from breaking, "would you please have the men go up and put the general into bed. He passed out on the floor."

Melanie stopped and took a breath, composing herself. Then she added in a quiet voice, "He was very drunk."

"Yes Ma'am," Sloan complied. "Right away."

"Please, don't worry about the mess in the bedroom tonight," instructed Melanie, "I don't want him disturbed at all. You can clean it up after her awakens today."

"No worries, Mrs. Tavington," the head servant assured the plantation mistress. Mrs. Sloane then hurried away to get two of the male servants to help the general into bed.

Melanie, now alone in the room, sat down on the couch, wincing in pain as she did. Unable to sit without discomfort, she soon curled herself into a fetal position.

Mrs. Sloane found her there a few moments later as she lit a candle in the parlor. She reached over the couch and touched Melanie's shouldering gently. "Would you like me to make up the couch into a bed for you tonight?"

"Yes," the young woman replied, as she sat up. The girl wiped a rogue tear from her eye.

Mrs. Sloane had noticed the girl's torn undergarments. "I have a clean nightgown fresh from the laundry. I just folded it tonight to put away tomorrow. Would you like me to bring it to you?"

"Yes, thank you," Mrs. Tavington replied.

In a moment the servant had returned with the garment. Melanie retired to a dark corner of the room, shedding her torn chemise and dawning the freshly washed nightgown. She turned to watch Mrs. Sloane finishing up making the couch into a temporary bed for the night. The young woman thanked her faithful head servant as she eased her sore body under the sheets, curling up again on the sofa.

As the older woman readied to leave, she turned at the doorway back to the shaken plantation mistress. "Ma'am, if it helps," she began in a gentle, reassuring voice, "the first year of marriage is the worst." She recalled this from her own experience, having been a widow and childless for many years, which is how she came to work for the Prescott family.

Mrs. Sloane did feel badly for the young bride and tried to help as far as she could without interfering. "Take heart. Along with the bliss that comes with first being married, there is also a period of adjustment and learning about one another. It will pass and you two shall learn how to make a household together."

"Thank you," Melanie stammered, nodding her head as the servant left.

The young wife settled into her pillow and forced her eyes shut, trying to sleep. But she couldn't: her mind whipping about in circles, recalling the events of the night.

Also, she now had confirmation that William would force her to submit, just as he'd threatened. Mrs. Tavington wondered if this would become a regular episode in their marriage. Confusion reigned in her mind, and soon the poor, exhausted girl eventually cried herself to sleep.

Author's notes:

Kitchen: I am just now realizing that I have referred to kitchens in RevWar era houses of the time in my stories. This creates maybe some confusion because of how we today use the term kitchen and what it is in our homes today. At that time, in large houses or mansions/manor houses, the cooking was actually done in a separate small building at least a few feet from the main house due to the danger and frequency of fires. In my stories, when I refer to the kitchen in the main house, I am actually referring to a small to medium sized room in the main house where the servants would do some food preparation before cooking, and then after the food was cooked and brought to the main house where it would be put into the proper serving dishes, plates, etc and served in the dining area. And, if there was room, the servants would take their meals in this room, separate from the family. I have visited alot of different sized plantations, and some call the kitchen different names such at "preparation kitchen," "Warming kitchen", "servant's kitchen", etc. At the Brattonsville Plantation, the house where "Patriot" was filmed as Aunt Charlotte's plantation, there is a small prep kitchen in the back of the house that isn't shown in the movie. Also, the formal dining room that Tavington goes into where one of the young Martin sons in hiding under the table, is actually a separate room of it's own attached to the main house by a covered, open breezeway. Under this building, as you see in the movie where the rest of the children and Aunt Charlotte are hiding when the dragoons raid the home, is what the historians there thought at one time was a , or another, preparation or warming kitchen, that later may have become a root cellar. Just so you know that when I refer to a kitchen inside the house in the large homes in any of my stories, that it's not technically like kitchens of today in that no "heated" cooking was done in them.

"Ward's": We see in the story that Melanie offers to get William some "Ward's and a cold rag" for his head trying to stave off an impending hangover. "Ward's" was a popular headache remedy in Pill, drop, and powder form (??I believe??) of the time according to some medical books and journals of the time. There was also a headache essence that could be homemade from a Ward's recipe. It was applied to the forehead--rubbed on.

Flat of a sword: The flat side of a sword/sabre was often used to strike a person--in defense, battle, or as punishment. From what I have read, it hurt TERRIBLY!!! The only thing I could even think it close to is getting hit by one of those wooden paint spatula stirrers--only those are thin and wood and would give/flex a bit when being hit. A sabre of heavy metal that may or may not flex at all had to have been horrible!

"Tie in" note for this chapter and last chapter: We see in last chapter (57) the "servant/slave gossip network" results--the officers have heard from their own servants' gossip about the state of a certain militia officer and an episode he'd had with a slave and the results that manifest years later. In this chapter, you see the root of the gossip--we see the plantation master and mistress, newlyweds, fighting physically and loudly enough that it rouses the servants. Even though the servants/slaves were cautioned (here AND in real life history) not to interfere with what happens between their masters and mistresses, that didn't mean that they couldn't talk of it to other people they knew. And, they were probably warned not to speak of the happenings, as well, but we see from historical writings in journals and letters that the happenings were spoken of/gossiped about!

thank you, faithful readers, for continuing to stay with this gargantuan story. Also, thanks for comments, reviews, emails, support! Thanks for understanding with some errors, typos, grammar, etc, that I miss while editing. I am forever catching them later (and cringing as I do) and correcting them when I see them. And, especially, thanks for patience while waiting for chapters--full time job, life, family, real life, etc can keep one busy!

JScorpio

Indianapolis, Indiana, USA

--author "The Boundary", "Bordon's Girl", and "The Pacifist's Daughter"