Chapter 59 Apologies, Emotions, News

"Oh," groaned General Tavington as he rolled over in bed. The officer clamped his eyes shut when the light pierced them, feeling like pins and needles poking at them. He laid there on his back a moment, trying to wake up and clear the cobwebs from his head, which was pounding.

As he slowly opened his eyes, William realized he remembered nothing from the night before. The last thing he could recall was drinking heavily with a business client in the pub in Devington around eight in the evening. He could not recollect how he got home.

When his eyes were able to focus, Tavington looked about the bedroom and sighed aloud. Furniture was askew, things were broken, and his clothes scattered about. The man wondered what had happened, hoping he had not caused it.

Will turned his body slightly, groaning as he did at how stiff it was. He piled his pillows up against the headboard and reclined back. There was a knock at the door and before his mouth could even form the words to answer, the maid Diedre breezed in.

"Oh good," she said with a smile as she crossed the room, "you're awake."

The maid sat her tray down on the nightstand next to the bed, stealing a glance at her employer's bare chest, finely chiseled with muscle. "I brought you some tea, and some Ward's for your head."

"Thank you," the general said in a tired, quiet voice.

He watched as the young maid dipped a rag in the basin of cold water, then wrung it out. She bent forward to place the rag on Tavington's head. The officer reached up and caught her wrist before she could.

"Uh…I'd like my wife to attend to me," he requested.

"She can't, sir."

"Why not? Where is she?," asked William with concern.

"She's attending the south orchard with Mr. Barnes today," informed the maid as she laid the folded rag down on the tray. "Begging your pardon, sir, but I heard him asking for you this morning, saying that you'd promised to help him there today. Your wife told him you were ill and that she would help in your stead."

Tavington sank back into the pillow, heaving a sigh as he closed his eyes. He felt bad that he hadn't been in the condition to follow through on his words and that Melanie was doing it instead.

"What time is it," he asked as he massaged his aching forehead with his right hand.

"Four in the afternoon," answered Diedre.

"Why wasn't I awakened earlier?"

"Mrs. Tavington wanted you to sleep it off," the maid replied.

"What happened in here? Why hasn't the room been cleaned?" Will asked, his voice conveying slight irritation now.

"We had strict orders from your wife to leave it be and clean later," stated Diedre, "we were not to disturb you."

"What happened here?" Will asked cautiously.

The maid suddenly looked nervous. "Um…you should talk to Mrs. Tavington about it," the girl deferred, not wanting to talk about the things she saw and heard last night.

The general was too hung over still to press the issue. "Alright," he relented. "Would you please have a bath sent up for me later to one of the other bedrooms? This can be cleaned while I bathe."

"Yes, sir," she answered dutifully. "What about the lock and the broken door down the hallway?"

William was thoroughly confused. He looked strangely at the maid. "Broken door?", he asked, repeating her words.

Again, she looked uncomfortable at having to answer questions about last night, which was something that was a sensitive and personal nature. "Um….well..you…," she stammered, "you broke the door down. The lock is broken as well as the wood around it."

Again, General Tavington didn't push for answers, but still wondered what was so drastic that happened that would cause him to kick a door open in his own house. Instead, the man sank down in bed and pulled the covers up, ready to go back to bed a little longer to recover further.

"Uh….Ask Mr. Andrews to look at it and decide what to do," William said resignedly.

"Yes sir," she said with a curtsy, "Very good." The maid quickly disappeared.

William took a sip of the tea, rubbed some of the Ward's essence across his forehead, then closed his eyes and hoped that sleep would come quickly.

General Tavington descended the stairway slowly, his head still aching. It was about eight in the evening and the officer was looking forward to seeing his wife over dinner.

He entered the dining room to find Melanie already seated. Mrs. Sloane was placing the plates on the table. Mrs. Tavington looked up from where she sat at the table up at her husband. Will stood silent in the doorway, looking casual in his pants, vest, and shirt with cravat done up loosely. His hair was pulled back in a queue, but loose and not braided. The young woman drew in a breath and marveled at how she could still find him so roguishly handsome in the midst of her own fury at him.

"I'd like dinner alone with Mrs. Tavington," the man said to Mrs. Sloane, "Please see that we are not disturbed."

"Yes, very good, sir," the head houseservant answered. The older woman shut the door behind her, leaving the newlyweds alone with each other.

Melanie tucked her head down, avoiding looking at the general as he walked around to his chair. He took the seat at the head of the table next to his wife.

"Good evening, Melanie."

"General," she replied coldly. Still angry with him, she resolved not to look at him and to speak to him as little as possible. The girl stared straight ahead out the picture window.

"I…uh…made a very lucrative deal for us with Mr. Cummings last night," Will began, sounding formal but trying to keep things light and friendly. "He will be the wealthiest of our clients. It will insure the future of our plantation."

"Good," his wife replied.

He was really hoping that she might throw her arms about him and tell him how proud she was of him. Or at least for a more animated answer.

After a minute of short, curt answers and coldness from her, he surmised that she must be upset with him. Probably for something he did last night. He hoped that an apology from him would do them well.

Tavington took a deep breath, then began in a cautious, measured tone. "I'd like to apologize for coming in so late last night and for not sending a message to you. You must have been worried."

"I was," Melanie replied, then took a pull of her wine.

She was still acting like a stonewall to him, so he figured that there was something more; his tardiness wasn't the only issue. He figured that she was angry with him for coming home drunk.

"I'm also sorry for coming home so intoxicated," he said. "It was celebratory, really. Mr. Cummings and I were both so pleased with the deal that we drank to it—and kept on drinking."

Melanie looked at him directly in the eyes for the first time, with a look that told him that his sarcasm was not welcome.

"Darling….I was…..I just….," he stammered as he tried to explain things, "I was elated. It was irresponsible of me, I know. The last thing I remember was looking at my watch in the pub at nine in the evening."

"I didn't think you'd remember any of last night," Melanie said harshly.

"No, I don't," he said. "I don't like getting that drunk. I have drank with soldiers and officers before but I always stop at my limit. I indulged too much last night and lost control. I don't fancy not being in control. I'm a plantation manager now and a military commander of men."

"And your wife!" Melanie shot back.

Tavington slumped a little in his chair, wondering what he had done to make her say that. He apologized again.

"Darling, I honestly don't remember anything of what happened last night," the man said in a sincere voice. "I'm sorry."

There was an unwieldy silence that now hung between the couple. William tried to stay stoic, but began to worry inside that something very bad must have happened. He closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples, his head still pounding.

"Alright, Melanie, I surrender," he said. "My head still hurts too much to play games. And I am practically having to pull short answers out of you with a mule team, so why don't you just tell me what happened."

Mrs. Tavington's anger had grown in just the few moments that she had been in his presence. She secretly delighted that his head still hurt, telling herself that he deserved the hangover.

The young wife took a deep breath, composing herself, and looked again at her husband. She could tell he was trying to be patient, sitting back relaxed in his chair, waiting patiently to here the account of the evening.

Melanie steeled her heart and emotions within, wanting not to betray too much of herself, and not wanting to explode at her husband. She sighed again, and looked straight ahead out the window as she began to recount to Will, what had transpired.

The general listened intently to her account of what happened, saying nothing as he did. The more he listened, the more moved to emotion he became inside—a whirlwind of them. He felt shocked at what he had done. Sure, he had maybe been too drunk a couple of times before and took advantage of a harlot, but he was not married at the time. The man cringed inside at how violent he'd been toward her. William was just as embarrassed at his own lack of control, getting that drunk and being that disorderly. By her words, it was clear he showed no discretion and all the servants had probably heard and seen what went on.

Then, he became angry at Melanie's audacity at even thinking that she had the right to refuse his advances as a husband—whether he was drunk or sober. The officer was also incensed that she had dared to lock him out of a bedroom in his own house. When he'd heard the part of the denial of his husbandly rights, he then understood more of himself and why he became so entirely violent at her.

In another way, he felt remorse that he'd treated his wife so badly that she was now frightened of him. And although she did not have the right to deny her body to him, he did not want her to shrink from him. Or worse: become a cold fish in bed. After all, he rather loved how she was warm and receptive to him, and an enthusiastic lover who responded to his touch and initiated her own.

William sighed inwardly, and did feel badly that he'd been so hard on his new wife. His heart was moved when, telling of how she was hit with his saber, that her voice broke and quivered, and how she stammered when saying 'you str….stru…..struck me.'

He had been harsh to women before: prisoners, spies, camp followers, servants, but things were different now. This was his wife—a woman of class and distinction. For once this brave officer who never made apologies for any of his actions, no matter how terrible, who never felt regret, felt remorse at what he'd done. Melanie had trusted him in marrying him, giving him all of her wealth and her body.

Though Tavington would have normally chastised his wife for refusing him sexual favors and would have then told her that the punishment was just, he decided to say nothing of it. He wanted to at least live in harmony with his wife and was very much enjoying the bliss of the marriage so far. Also, he wanted her warmth of heart toward him, and hoped that she would eventually love him.

William decided wisely to smooth things over. He hoped that an apology and an affirmation of his deep feelings toward her would go a long way.

He reached out cautiously, and took her hand in his. The officer was amazed when she did not pull it away. "Melanie, I am sorry darling. I am appalled at my own behavior last night and I refuse to blame it on the drink. I will sincerely try not to come home that drunk ever again."

Mrs. Tavington said nothing, staring in astonishment at her husband.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I'm not used to you issuing apologies," she stated quietly.

"Well, I don't in military situations," he proclaimed, which he knew that she already knew. "But this is different. We're married and I want us to be right with each other."

Melanie didn't feel as upset with him now, almost feeling badly herself at being so short with him earlier. "Well, alcohol does give one false bravery and make one do things they wouldn't usually do."

Will sighed inside himself, glad that she had let him off the hook with her making the excuse for his bad behavior because of the drink.

"I'm sorry darling," he apologized again. "I hope you know that I do adore you."

She smiled and blushed at him, looking away. Then her ice melted totally, and she felt relieved that this was now behind them. Mrs. Tavington looked up and caught sight of the portrait of her brother, Matthew the priest. Again, she thought of him and how devoted he was to God and the church and it's values.

"You know, my brother Matthew was in the clergy," she said nodding up at his painting on the wall. William knew this for he had seen Father Matthew Prescott's dead body laid out on the grass in front of this very house, with the other murdered members of this fine family. Indeed, that was where Will had first seen Melanie—lying silently on the grass with them, nearly dead herself. Tavington shuddered at that thought and quickly pulled himself back to his wife's words.

"He always wanted people to forgive and give second chances."

"So, does that mean that you forgive me?" William asked, a cautious smile playing lightly about his lips. His ice blue eyes were full of innocence as he looked at her.

"Yes, of course," she said sheepishly.

With that, he took his wife's hand and pulled her over to his chair, pulling her down onto his lap. They began to kiss—feeling it a proper way to make up. They took turns nuzzling and nibbling at each other's neck and ears for a moment.

While Will was busy at her skin, Melanie looked up and caught sight of a rider pulling up outside the window. "Will, there's a messenger."

William was too busy nuzzling at her neck to look up, or even to care. "I'm too busy to care about that rider, darling," he murmured against her skin, making her smile. He took hold of her head and gently pulled her back down to kiss his mouth.

Will's other hand began to snake up one of Melanie's legs and under her skirt. "Oh, Will," Melanie sighed, anxious to feel her husband's ministrations in tenderness. His fingers brushed over her quim, making her catch her breath. "Gently please, darling," she requested in a whisper, "I'm still a little sore there."

Tavington smiled, bound and determined to touch her as softly as he ever had. The couple kissed deeply and were so intent at the business of reconciling that they didn't notice the knock on the door.

The door opened and Mr. Arnold, the butler, walked in with the rider behind him. The two men caught Melanie and William in their moment of bliss. "Begging your pardons, there is a messenger for the general."

The general and his wife both stood up immediately, with Melanie quickly pushing her skirt down, straightening up. She felt flushed with embarrassment having just been caught with her husband's hand beneath her petticoats.

"Sorry for the interruption," the young messenger said, stepping forward to hand two envelopes to someone. "I'm Private Hamilton. I have two messages: one for Colonel Wilton and General Tavington, and the other for the general only."

"I'm General Tavington," he said, "This is my wife."

"Ma'am," the young man acknowledged with a slight bow.

Mrs. Tavington curtsied, then sat again.

Will thanked the messenger when he took the envelopes from his hand. The young private backed out of the room and stood just outside the doorway. Melanie watched William intently as he read the first message.

"Hmm….they're closing the hospital," the officer stated as he refolded the note. "We're to accept no more wounded. They will be sending them elsewhere."

Will's wife smiled inwardly, glad that they would finally have the farm back to themselves. She looked up again as her husband as he opened the second note. She became concerned after a moment when she saw the general frown after reading the message.

"What is it?", asked Mrs. Tavington.

The officer heaved a heavy sigh, then spoke delicately. "Um…I've been restored to active duty. I'm needed back on the battlefields."

"When?" Melanie asked, showing much distress.

"I have to report to Winnsboro in three weeks," he stated. "They're giving me the extra time to get the farm affairs in order."

"Where are they posting you?"

"North, most likely," he answered Melanie's query. "Probably North Carolina, maybe farther, I don't know."

His wife's eyes widened and her faced contorted. In an instant she tore from the dining room in a huff, obviously very upset.

"Melanie!"

Will watched as she ran down the porch and across the grass. He knew where she was headed to.

"Begging your pardon, sir," the young messenger interjected, "I've seen a lot of wives react that same way." Obviously the fledgling private had delivered a lot of reactivation messages lately.

"I'll wager you have," Tavington said with a sigh. "Understandably."

The general paused then added, "We've only been married a few weeks."

"Aye, sir," the young private said with an understanding nod of his head, having seen more than one young bride not wanting to be parted from her husband.

William quickly folded the letter. He had to talk with Colonel Wilton about the hospital message, but knew he also needed to console his wife.

"Are you spending the night?" Will asked the young soldier.

"No, sir," the private replied. "I have to start back tonight with your replies. "

"Have you had anything to eat?"

"No, sir."

"Do you have time for supper?" asked Tavington. "I can get messages ready for you to take back by the time you're finished eating."

"Yes, sir," the young rider said graciously.

"Mrs. Sloane, would you please fix a plate for Private Hamilton," the officer requested. "And send some bread along with him."

"Yes, General," the maid replied. "Right this way, Private."

William headed out of the house toward the gazebo, right where he knew he'd find his wife. He saw her standing there, her arms crossed in front of her, her shoulders rising and fallings with each heave of a breath.

The young woman heard her husband's boots ascend the stairway into the pavilion.

"Darling—"

"I want you to tell them you can't go," she blurted out, interrupting the officer.

He felt terribly. Will was anxious to get back to duty, yet he was enjoying wedded bliss with Melanie and didn't want to leave her. He could tell she was taking the news very hard.

"You know I cannot," he replied gently.

"You're needed here," she defended.

"Melanie, I am King George's officer and needed on the field as well," he began, trying to muster as much sympathy for her as he could. "If I tell His Majesty—and my commanders as well that I am not returning, they will have me hanged."

"But you have a business to run," his wife shot back, giving him all the excuses she could to persuade him to stay.

"So do many other officers."

"You're not well yet," Melanie sniffled, fighting tears back.

"Darling, we both know I am recovered sufficiently," he countered.

"I don't want you to go," Melanie exclaimed, tears threatening to flow. "We just got married."

"I don't want to leave either, my dear," he comforted, "I don't have a choice."

William's wife, who had tried to be stoic, finally eroded into tears. "I lost Alex," she cried, "I don't want to lose you, too!"

The young woman flew into her husband's arms and buried her face in his chest. She wept hard as he held her body tightly to his, rocking her back and forth a little, trying to comfort the poor woman.

William was moved inside. He did not know that she cared so deeply for him, still thinking she that she considered their marriage one of convenience with the perks of affection and some romance.

"Darling, war has raged about you now for nearly 6 years," he comforted, "and you were at the fort for over two years. You have been surrounded by soldiers. You know, by now, the life of an officer."

"That doesn't make things any better," she sobbed into his shirt.

William rubbed her back and kissed her hair, still holding her close, comforting her.

"I don't want you to go," she said again as she wept.

William cupped her chin and gently lifter her head to look up at him. He felt so much pity as he looked at her red, tear stained face.

"You're breaking my heart, Melanie," he said softly. "I didn't know that you cared this deeply for me." Secretly, he was hoping that she might confess love for him.

"Isn't it obvious?" his wife sniffled.

"Of course," he nodded, smiling down at her. After another moment, her sobs died down to soft sniffles. He pushed her slightly back from him, holding her shoulders.

"Look, the messenger has to return tonight and I've yet to speak with Colonel Wilton," Tavington announced. He took her hands and kissed them, then eased her down the steps of the gazebo.

"Go back to the house and you and I will talk later," he directed. With that he put his hand on her cheek softly and traced her lips with his thumb. She looked so helpless and sad to him. The officer bent his tall frame down to give her a kiss. He then gave her bum a smack and sent her off toward the house.

Author's note: I hope you don't think that Tavington's remorse is completely out of character for him. Please, read on.

Things have changed and he realizes that. He may have treated harlots like that and gotten away with it, but he realizes that things are different now--he is a married man! He takes the wise road of smoothing things over with his wife as he is enjoying her beauty, receptivity of him, her money, plantation and her body, which are now all his! He figures that since this is still new, and at least for now, he doesn't want to blow the good life. And, he does have a deep affection for her, as well. But, as we read, he still does blame his loss of composure on his drunkenness and her refusal of his sexual advances, which a wife wouldn't have had a right to do back then. But, he chooses the higher road and keeps that as his secret feeling, wanting to keep peace and harmony in their marriage. He even gets her to admit that alcohol can cause looseness in people, which in his mind, her stating that aloud has let him off the hook.

But, folks, the story is far from over and old habits die hard. And, our favorite bad boy has not become a saint!