Author's note: Okay--I don't know what possessed me last week but I wrote so much! Maybe extra time possessed me. Anyway, thanks again for reading, you are great! Enjoy this chapter because there may not be another one for a week or so. I am embarking on one of those weeks where I have something going on every night, including the weekend, so don't may not have much free time to write another chapter again until into next week.

Thanks

JScorpio

Chapter 66 Disbelief, Yet Hope

Mid September, 1781………………..

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20 August 1781

Dearest Melanie,

This is just a quick note to you. We are in North Carolina now. I've been informed of late that we will be moving toVirginia. I cannot tell you the location yet. Things here are busy—the duties of a staff General are…well…tedious. Never a moment's rest. Always someone needing a signature or to speak to me of something. So many strategy meetings. I curse my injured body and wish I would not have been so severely hurt last winter. I would much rather be leading the cavalry on to the field and fighting then attending to this administrative work. However, I try to remember how you spoke to me of this last Spring. I always keep in my mind you asking me if I wanted to have some part in a British victory or nothing at all. So, this is my contribution and I hope that what I do here, my command of men, is significant and makes a difference.

How is the plantation doing? I trust Mr. Andrews is doing a fine job as usual. After working with him, Mr. Barnes, and the rest of the hired hands, I can see why your father hired all of them and trusted them so thoroughly. They are fine indeed and truly have the situation in hand.

How is Mrs. Wilkins? I get what news I can of her from her esteemed husband. He worries about her and is sorry that he won't be there when his child is born. He is still convinced that he is having a son. Jim grows increasingly excited and anxious to be a father as the day of birth nears.

As for James Wilkins the officer, he has proven himself again and again on the field, whether battle or skirmish. He thinks of his fellow soldiers and is busy helping them even while defending his own person! He is also the ever astute business man, and I am learning things from him that may help our business. I'm also learning much of wine making and beer brewing. Not to worry, darling, I am not planning on starting that to rival the Wilkins' operation. I will stick to the mills as that is what I know best!

It is hard to sleep again on a bedroll or cot—depending on where we are for how long. I believe I became quite spoiled in our comfortable bed and house. I miss having you, my darling, next to me in our bed. I am always aware that the last few days before we parted, that we were not on the best of terms. But I will always remember the look on your face and your eyes the morning I left, so I think you may be missing me right now. I hope you are. I used to love the thrill of battle. But now I want the damned thing to end soon so that I may rejoin you, my sweet wife.

Fondest love,

Your William

Mrs. Tavington smiled as she refolded the letter from Will and tucked it back into the pocket of her skirt. The letter arrived late yesterday—it was a month old. She surmised that Will and the men had probably already moved into Virginia by now. The woman hoped she would get another letter from him soon.

She came out of the shade, picked up her basket as she did and walked toward the next section or grapes. The young woman was helping cut grapes today to monitor the progress they were making. She liked trying to help out as she felt it kept her more in touch with the different areas of the plantation and how it all was going.

It wasn't more than a few minutes that a headache came on. Melanie stopped for a moment to catch her breath and wipe her brow. The heat from the summer had still not subsided and this was the hottest September Mrs. Tavington could remember. She longed for a breeze to kick up and cool the plantation.

She decided that she could work through the ache of her head and that she'd ask the next person going to the house to bring her back some Ward's. But after a few more moments of working, the pounding in her head turned to vertigo. She found it even more hard to breathe.

Henry, one of the hired hands working near the mistress, notice that she had gone pale suddenly. He sat his basket of grapes down and walked toward Melanie.

"Mrs. Tavington, are you feeling alright?" he asked in obvious worry.

"No….this heat is unbearable," she replied. "I'm trying to work through it."

The woman closed her eyes and took a couple of large breaths, hoping the air in her lungs would help her feel better. But instead, she began to feel nauseous. The girl dropped to her knees and threw up. When she was done, she sat backwards on her knees, trying to calm herself down. She thought she would feel better after she had vomited, which often happened.

The slaves Ezra and Dinah came running when they saw the mistress on her knees, all concerned for her. Melanie forced a smile up at the three surrounding her, asking them to help her up. But when she stood, she still felt dizzy.

Obviously the heat was getting to her, and afraid of a heat stroke, Henry sent her to the house. It didn't take much for her to agree with him. Melanie thought she would take a break and rest in the cool house and she could help again later. She refused the arm of Ezra to escort her to the house, telling them she felt she could make it.

Dinah and Ezra went back to work on the grapes. Henry watched Mrs. Tavington as she walked toward the house, and so far she was doing well. Then he noticed that she started to weave. When he noticed this, he started walking toward her, knowing that she needed help.

As Melanie weaved, she felt like she was walking sideways, then uphill. She tried to tell herself to take deep breaths, but breathing was hard. Then she told herself to stop, but yet her body kept going, just wanting to make it back to the house quickly. Then she lost her sense of direction and walked in two small circles.

Melanie looked around, feeling disoriented. She tried to spot the house but felt her vision starting to blur. Then everything went black.

Henry saw her faint onto the grass and took off at a run. He got to her, yelled her name and tried to get her to revive but the woman was out cold. He picked her body up and carried her toward the house, shouting trying to get anyone within earshot's attention.

Diedre and Mrs. Sloane came onto the veranda as the farmhand carried the unconscious woman in. Diedre ran for a basin of cold water as Mrs. Sloane called for Jonas, the young slave.

"Jonas," she instructed, "go fetch Mrs. Wilkins and ask her if she might come and sit with Mrs. Tavington, if she feels up to it."

With that, the spry little slave was off, running across the field as fast as his feet would carry him.

After laying the Tavington woman down in her bed, Henry hurried out to the handful of tents that was left of the dispersed hospital. He knew there was at least one surgeon left.

Within moments, Dr. Mills entered the house with an apothecary bag. Diedre was wiping Mrs. Tavington down with cool water.

"What happened," he asked.

"The heat has been getting to her this season," Mrs. Sloane stated, having heard the unconscious woman complain more than once of it. "She fainted on her way back to the house."

The man found a vial of Hartshorn in his bag. The doctor passed it under the young mistress' nose. It elicited a couple of moans from the woman, but she did not revive.

"Alright, I'll stay with her for awhile," assured Dr. Mills. "I'll try the smelling salts here every half hour until she revives. Wipe her down to keep her cool every so often."

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Two hours later, Mrs. Wilkins had arrived and was told in detail what had happened. Between Bridget and the Tavington servants, the doctor was filled in on Melanie's recent state of health.

Bridget immediately sat down next to her friend, worried for her. The doctor tried the smelling salts again and this time, Melanie opened her eyes.

The plantation mistress looked about, recognizing her bedroom but not sure what had happened. She looked at her friend in confusion.

"Bridget," she whispered.

"Yes…I'm here," Mrs. Wilkins answered. "Do you remember anything?"

"I was working in the grapes," replied Melanie. "What happened?"

The doctor spoke up. "Your farm hand says that you became ill, then you tried to make it to the house and fainted along the way. We've had a hell of a time trying to revive you."

"I want to talk to you alone," Melanie said. "Please send everyone out."

All gathered left the room, and Doctor Mills and Melanie were now alone. The woman was worried about herself, fearing the worst. She looked up at the doctor with fright in her eyes.

"Is it Malaria?", she asked, worried.

"I am not sure yet, Mrs. Tavington," he stated. "You've been out for so long. I haven't had a chance for a thorough examination, plus I needed to talk with you, as well."

She discussed all her symptoms with the doctor, and how the horrible heat seemed to make things worse. Then he went on to ask more questions.

"I was informed that you had a miscarriage last year," he stated.

"Yes…in the winter…I was four months along," she recounted. "I fell from a horse. The doctor and midwife that attended me at the fort agreed that it was bad. That I'd never be able to conceive again."

"I see," he acknowledged. "And have you been able to have your monthlies since the miscarriage?"

"Yes, they returned," answered .

"Have they been regular?"

"No…irregular."

"How often? Are they coming once a month?" Mills questioned.

Melanie thought about it, trying to remember. "Yes, they come once a month but are irregular in when they start and stop."

"And when was the last monthly you had, even if irregular?" He looked intently at his patient.

Once again, the young woman tried to recall. "It was at the beginning of June. I thought nothing of not having them because after the miscarriage, the doctor said that I may have trouble with my monthlies."

"So you haven't had one since June," he confirmed, watching Melanie nod in answer.

"Alright, let me examine you a little further," he stated. With that, he pulled Melanie's shift skirt up over her middle, taking care to pull the blanket up over her pubic area to shield it. The man pressed on and palpated her abdomen, as well as watched her breathing.

When he was done, he sat down next to the bed in the chair vacated by Bridget. He shared his findings with the young woman.

"Mrs. Tavington, I am from Maryland and joined this army to help His Majesty by repairing his soldiers," he informed. "My wife is a midwife back at home. As a doctor for the village there, I often had occasion to accompany my wife on her visits to women bearing children. I have helped with more than one difficult birth and have learned quite a bit from my wife."

He took a breath, then continued. Melanie listened quietly. "No, Mrs. Tavington, you thankfully have not contracted Malaria."

"Thank God," she replied, closing her eyes.

"You're pregnant," he declared. "You're three months along considering the absence of your flux for as long as that. Plus in palpating your abdomen, it is slightly rounded as should be for three months, and is firm, which is another sign. Let's see, this is the middle of September. You should deliver in March."

Mrs. Tavington was aghast, not believing her ears. She was unable to speak for a moment.

"But they told me I couldn't have any more children," she said, shaking her head still in disbelief.

"And maybe at the time that was true and thought so bad as that was to be the case," the doctor stated. "But the human body is truly miraculous. I have seen men sometimes survive what were considered devastating, life threatening injuries. And I have seen miracles. The body is sometimes very resilient. My medical opinion is that maybe due to your young age, that your female organs within repaired themselves."

Mrs. Tavington lay on her bed, still dumfounded. She continued to listen to the doctor.

"When you were pregnant before, did you have illness early on?"

"Yes," she answered.

"And was it the same or similar to what you have been experiencing periodically these last few weeks," he asked.

"Yes," she answered, a smile crossing her face. She never even made the connection that she could possibly be having pregnancy sickness because she had been told, and therefore assumed that she would not conceive again.

"But a word of caution," Doctor Mills warned, "You must be careful and rest. Since you have had one bad miscarriage, you run a higher risk of having one again. Please, no more working on the farm. You are to rest as much as possible during this pregnancy to have a chance to carry the baby to term. Take special care until the child is born."

"Congratulations, Mrs. Tavington," the doctor said. With that, he opened the bedroom door, allowing Mrs. Sloane and Mrs. Wilkins to enter.

"Please, you tell them," Melanie requested, "they will only believe it to hear it from a doctor."

"What? What is it?" asked a concerned Bridget.

"Your friend here is with child. Three months," he proclaimed. "In March, the Tavington family will increase in size."

With that, the doctor gave instructions that the woman was to rest and not work on the farm. Then bid farewell, and he left.

Bridget had a huge smile on her face. "Oh Melanie! All that pain you felt last winter and all the tears you had shed over this. God saw your despair and gave you a miracle!"

"What do you think the General will think? Will he be excited? Does he want to be a father," asked a jubilant Bridget.

"I…I don't know. I think he will be as stunned as I am," Melanie said, her own voice still conveying disbelief.

"You must write him right away!"

Mrs. Tavington suddenly became scared, and cautious. She recalled the doctor warning her that she was at a higher risk not to carry to term. She made a quick decision.

Melanie grabbed for her friend's hand. "Please, Bridget, don't tell Jim in your letters, yet. Because I am sure William would want to tell him. But also, I want to get past the four month stage, when I had the miscarriage before I even tell William. I don't want to get his hopes up, then have to inform him that I lost the baby."

"Alright, I will not write of it until you tell me I can," Bridget promised.

Mrs. Tavington settled back into her pillow, cautiously happy. Bridget kissed her forehead and bid goodbye so that her friend could get some rest.

Melanie's hand went to her belly and began to caress it. And though she was happy, she began to cry in joy, thoroughly overcome with emotion.

"Oh, little one," she sobbed, "I am so glad that you are inside me. I have desired a child. I want you so badly! I can't wait for you to be born!"

Through her tears, she looked out her open bedroom window at the bright sky and prayed, thanking God.

"Lord, please take care of me and this baby. Please keep us safe. I want this child to be born!"

"Thank you," she wept. "Thank you for another chance!"