Chapter 71 Home At Last

End of December, 1781….South Carolina

Melanie Tavington felt particularly sick today. But most of her days recently had been full of sickness with her pregnancy. Now six months along and well in her second trimester, she seemed to be ill more often than not. The young wife tried to keep her food down but ended up throwing a lot of it up, making her worry that the baby wasn't getting enough nutrition.

Even so, she was already large and showing. Many people commented that she looked larger and farther along than most women at six months. This confused Mrs. Tavington, making her wonder if the doctor, combined with her own body, had made a mistake in calculation. She had been told by the midwife that it was possible to have a period still very early on in a pregnancy, near after the conception. Melanie figure that if had miscalculated, the earliest she could be was seven months, possible having become pregnant on her wedding night or shortly after. She could not remember back to her flux in either May or June and if they were a light flow. She'd taken for granted that her womanly functions would never be normal again after she'd lost Alex Bordon's child. Plus the girl had been a new bride at the time, caught up in the bliss of being a newlywed—she wasn't thinking about such things as her bodily functions.

Melanie had spent a lot of the day in bed with her pregnancy illness today, but she had willed herself to get up and attend to things about the house. She had a meeting with Mr. Andrews regarding the plantation business and looked over the books with him. But feeling dizzy again, she spent the last part of their meeting, insisting on finishing it, on the couch, much to the protestations of the trusted farm overseer. When their meeting was done, Mrs. Tavington continued to lie on the sofa in the office with a cool rag on her head, too exhausted at the moment to go upstairs to her room.

In the dim light of the last of the sunset's rays, a figure was spotted walking up the lane of the Tavington Prescott plantation. Diedre the servant, discerned the man as a clergyman, probably looking for shelter for the night.

She let Mrs. Sloane and a few of the other servants within earshot know that a visitor was coming, then made her way into the study. The maid spoke softly to the plantation mistress, who was dozing lightly.

"Mrs. Tavington, there's a priest coming up the lane," Diedre informed.

Always remembering that her late brother was a priest, she especially wanted to extend hospitality to the man.

"Give him dinner, please, and offer him one of the guest rooms," requested Melanie.

"Yes, Ma'am."

After a moment, still feeling sickly, Melanie pushed her pregnant body up off the couch and wrapped the quilt about her. She shouted for Mrs. Sloane to send a light dinner for her up to her room. Mrs. Tavington, exhausted and ill, decided to retire for the evening.

"Mrs. Sloane?" she called a second time when the head housekeeper didn't acknowledge her request the first time. Wondering if the woman had heard her, Melanie made her way out of the study and into the great hall. Across it, she noticed most of her servants and some slaves milling about the windows, doorway, and porch, watching the minister walking up the lane.

She wondered why they were all so interested in the visitor making his way toward the house. The thought crossed her mind that maybe they were seeing an apparition of her late brother Matthew. Mrs. Tavington made her way through the front door to look as well, tightening the quilt about her to shield her from the cold night air.

As the priest drew closer, she recognized the wide brimmed hat, called a saturno, and long black frock as that of a Jesuit, an order her brother was not a part of. Melanie noticed how tall and slender this particular pastor was. And his walk was regal, and seemed familiar to her. But what she noticed the most was a shiny silver flask that the man occasionally sipped from—something that a priest could not afford. She had seen that style of vessel before.

Then it dawned on her. The flask. The familiar walk. The priest raised his head as he neared the porch and looked up at all on it.

"It's William!," Melanie gasped, stepping forward, her breathing hard with excitement.

"General Tavington?", several of the servants whispered amongst themselves, confused at the sight of their master out of uniform and dressed as a minister.

Mrs. Sloane could tell immediately that the mistress had forgotten her delicate condition in the frenzy of her husband's unexpected return. She grabbed the girl's shoulders, preventing her from bolting off the porch.

"Remember your condition," she warned Mrs. Tavington in a murmur. "The baby."

Melanie nodded, barely able to contain her thrill. She felt tears of joy coming to her eyes as the officer neared.

General Tavington ascended the veranda, amused at the stir he had caused. His lips curved into a mischievous smile. About him there was a pensive silence by all, which William broke.

"What's the matter?", he asked. "Haven't you all ever seen a Jesuit priest before; or rather a general disguised as one?"

With that, he took his hat off and handed it to the slave Ezra, who was wide eyed and dumb founded at the master's return. Tavington then turned to his saucer eyed, dumbstruck wife.

"I'm home," he declared simply. The man leaned down and gave her a quick, chaste kiss, puzzling her and all that saw it. She touched her cheek with her hand and kissed him back, softly pushing her tongue into his mouth, silently inviting him to kiss her back in a more passionate way. Instead, he didn't, and she could taste whiskey on his tongue.

"I'm glad you're home safely," she said, wanting him to take her into his arms, confounded that he didn't. "I missed you," she added.

William spoke again to his still mute servants. "I can see you had no idea I was coming."

"We had no word," his wife answered, still so surprised to see him.

Mrs. Sloane took it upon herself as head housekeeper to break the awkwardness and surprise that everyone was feeling. "Welcome home, General Tavington," she greeted with a warm smile.

With that, there was a round of greetings from the servants gathered about. The crowd quickly swallowed the long absent plantation master, shaking hands with him and bowing to the man. They left Melanie behind, still standing in the doorway with the quilt pulled around her.

As she stood there alone and confused, Melanie's mind wondered about things as she watched her husband being received back at home by his loyal servants. He'd seemed cold and distant to her. But moreover, he'd said nothing about her pregnancy. The young wife wasn't sure what was going on, or even what to think.

"Did you receive any of my letters?" asked William, making his way back to his wife.

"The last one we received was dated middle of October," Melanie answered, "in which you spoke of the surrender and possible parole. It arrived in November."

Tavington soon shed the black cassock he wore and threw it to the floor as he explained. "Major Wilkins and I escaped our parole," he said, "traveling as Jesuit priests with a real one and a group of nuns starting a mission in Georgia. Had to play a bloody King's ransom for just that."

William now made his way into the house, wearing regular civilian clothing of a white shirt and black breeches which had been hidden beneath the frock. He continued speaking to all.

"I trust that Mrs. Wilkins has had her child?" he asked.

Diedre answered when none of the others, still mute with surprise, did not. "Yes sir. She had a healthy baby boy on November the first. She named him James Kilpatrick Wilkins."

"Ah, that's splendid," the general answered. "Major Wilkins desired a boy. I'm sure he will be very pleased and happy to see him."

"Mrs. Sloane, please fix dinner for the general," Melanie requested, taking Will by the arm.

"And please send a bottle of wine with it," Will added, "and don't bother with a glass!"

Melanie led her husband toward the in the study, Mrs. Tavington gazed at her husband for a moment, wondering what was bothering him. She was hoping that maybe he was just tired from his long land journey.

"Did you receive any of the letters I sent?" asked Melanie.

"The last one I received was in October in Yorktown camp," he stated. "I believe it was dated the middle of September and spoke of how good a recent wine batch of the Wilkins' winery was."

"Oh, so you don't know."

"Know what?"

Tavington's wife dropped the quilt that she had wrapped about her body to shield her from the Carolina winter cold. She revealed a significantly pregnant belly to her husband, putting her hands on it, caressing the roundness.

"I'm with child," she said softly, and cautiously.

General Tavington stared at her swollen abdomen, confounded. He was dumbstruck, his mind temporarily blank.

When her husband didn't say anything, Melanie spoke up. "The doctor was wrong. I conceived." She smiled tentatively up at her husband.

After another silent moment, feelings about her 'surprise' pregnancy nearly bowled him over. The officer felt a mixture of surprise, confusion, and anger. He did not feel any delight or happiness at all for he was too consumed by heavier feelings and questions.

William felt surprise at the announcement, after over a year of expecting her to be barren the rest of her life. After all, that is what the midwife and doctor that attended her miscarriage predicted. He also felt confusion that this could have happened after months of accepting that he'd never have biological children by Melanie Prescott. He had comforted her through the wake of her disappointment at her inability to provide him with an heir. He had also borne her wrath when she accused him of causing her miscarriage and subsequent infertility.

Worst of all, and unable to help it, he felt angry. He was mad at having to bear her wrath at him for what was now clearly a false diagnosis. He was angered, as well, at what he perceived as being 'blindsided' by the news of her pregnancy after thinking her unable to conceive. All this though it wasn't Melanie' fault that he didn't receive the news earlier in her letters. The general now even felt a bit of suspicion, always recalling in the back of his mind how his wife had formerly been the mistress of his married adjutant.

"So, when were you going to tell me this?," asked William meanly.

"I wrote of it in my letters!" she defended.

"It had better be mine!" he proclaimed snidely.

"It is yours!" she cried in reply. "I'm six months along. We've been married for seven months. You've been gone five and a half months."

Melanie continued on her tirade. "I haven't been with anyone else! With the way you helped yourself to my body whenever you liked—"

"Alright, woman, I believe you!" William shouted, rubbing his temples. He had a headache, which the alcohol wasn't helping, and only wanted the yelling to cease.

Mrs. Tavington stood quietly, unsure of what else to do or say. After a moment, she spoke up cautiously. "I'm very happy about this, and excited," Melanie remarked in a quiet voice as she looked down at her belly, rubbing it. "Are you pleased?"

William heaved a frustrated sigh, as if this was all a bother to him. "I…I don't know how to feel about it," he answered shortly. "It's a bit of a surprise, really, after thinking that I'd caused you to be barren."

The tired officer took a breath, and turned away from his wife. After some hesitation, he turned back to face her. "I don't know how to feel about it," he stated. "You're going to have to give it time to sink in."

"Mrs. Sloane," he immediately called, changing the cadence of the conversation, leaving Melanie standing and still wondering what to think.

"Yes, sir," she answered breezing into the room.

"Please have my dinner sent in here," Will requested.

"Very good, sir."

"And send Mr. Barnes in to speak with me about the business," he added.

General Tavington sat down at his desk. He then looked up at his wife and addressed her, his tone sounding as if she was just some sort of business associate of his.

"Wait for me upstairs," he directed. "I have a private matter to discuss with you."

Melanie sighed and turned, too tired and sick to keep trying to elicit some kind of a response from him. As she headed out of the room, she muttered, "gladly," in a sarcastic tone under her breath.

Once up in their bedroom, Mrs. Tavington sat down at her dressing table and began to brush her hair. After a few strokes, she stopped and stared at herself in the mirror. Then she burst into tears, crying for a few moments.

William had been home less than fifteen minutes and the two were already arguing again, much like they did last summer before he left. The young wife was also hurt that her husband seemed to disregard the pregnancy, acting not happy to be a father at all. The officer has also just cast her aside downstairs in favor of discussing business with the farm's overseer.

Melanie hoped this wouldn't be permanent between them, that they wouldn't be at each other's throats and playing games as they did last summer, when she was glad for him to leave. The young woman didn't want them to have to live like this forever. Indeed, she hoped it was some sort of phase of readjustment to each other; that it would soon pass.

The girl willed herself to stop crying. She tried to convince herself that he was exhausted after just having traveled a long journey over land. Mrs. Tavington also reminded herself that William had been drinking, as well, which sometimes caused his sharp tongue.

She wiped the tears from her eyes and cheeks. Melanie then rose slowly and walked across the room to the window bed. Sitting down, she looked out the window into the dark Carolina night. The young woman leaned back against the wall and soon began to doze.

The slam of a door woke Mrs. Tavington from her rest. She looked at her husband as he sat down and removed his boot and stockings. Will got up and walked toward her when he was finished.

"I fought a duel in your honor," the general informed, "and for mine and your late lover's, as well."

"What?" a stunned Melanie asked.

"I dueled against General Burwell because he'd ravished you," William declared.

"Oh, no William, I wish you wouldn't have," she moaned. "You could have been killed. Then what would the baby and I do?"

"I won," said the general.

Mrs. Tavington sighed and closed her eyes, sorry that he'd fought the duel. "Did you gain satisfaction?"

"Yes," he answered. "Apparently you did too."

"What?" His wife was confused.

"When you were debriefed after your kidnapping by the rebels," he began, "when you'd informed that you'd been raped, you left out an important detail, which I am sure you did not impart to Alex."

"I told them everything," stated Melanie.

"Hmmm…..truthfully?" Tavington quizzed.

"Yes."

"So you maintain that you were forced?"

"Yes. Why?" she asked.

"Burwell said that you enjoyed it," commented Will.

"What?"

"Apparently, his men heard your cries of pleasure outside of his tent," told General Tavington.

The episode in Burwell's tent suddenly flashed before her eyes. Being thrown on his cot; him inserting the handle of his dagger into her; then ravishing her with his hardness; being tied to the tent pole; the officer's hand under her skirt. Then she remembered how her own body betrayed her; how he taunted her when he made her have an orgasm that she'd tried to stave off.

Melanie felt the heat of embarrassment encapsulate her body, and tears came to her eyes. How could she explain it away?

"No….I," she began tearfully, only to be interrupted by her husband's rough interrogation.

"Did he bring you to completion?" asked the officer in a very serious tone.

"Yes," she replied, bursting into sobs. "I was too ashamed to tell anyone."

"You can tell me," he coaxed, in a voice that implied that she'd better never keep any secrets from him.

"No, please," she pleaded through her tears, not wanting to talk of the horrid experience.

"Now, Melanie!" William demanded. "How?"

"When he had my hands bound to the tent pole," she began, sniffling, "he put his hand under my skirt, then between my legs and he taunted me. I tried to fight—I really did! But the feeling just came over me. I couldn't help it! My body betrayed me. I didn't willingly enjoy it."

"I believe you," said William. "I've broken your resolve and willpower to stave off pleasure myself."

Melanie looked down at the floor and away from the general, embarrassed and humiliated that her husband now knew what she considered was a deep, dark secret that she hoped no one would ever learn of. A blush of red heat washed over her from head to toe. Despite her shame, she managed to calm herself and stop weeping.

She watched her husband tensely as he took another drink of wine. Mrs. Tavington knew that something was troubling him to be losing himself in alcohol. As she stood watching him, she felt a wave of nausea from the baby come over her. She grabbed the edge of a nearby table to hold herself up.

William suddenly grabbed his wife's arm. He pulled her body to his and looked down at the unwell girl.

"Now that I am caught up on farm business," Will began, "I can take care of business with you."

"William, I'm not feeling very well," she said, feebly trying to pull her arm from his grip.

Without warning, Tavington's mouth crashed into her kissing her hard. He held her there with her upper arms in a vise grip. She could taste the wine and remnants of whiskey on his tongue.

She mustered the strength somewhere to push out of her husband's clutches. "Really, Will. I've been sick a lot with this pregnancy. I was sick today and still haven't recovered."

"You're my wife and it's been months since we last saw each other," Will admonished.

"But William—"

Tavington did not listen to her protests. "Melanie! Be a good wife, lay down, spread your legs, and welcome me home properly!"

Melanie's head was pounding and her stomach was twisting itself into knots. Why couldn't he just leave her alone, she thought.

William pushed his wife hard toward the bed.

"Don't! William!"

The officer was in no mood for defiance tonight. Taking hold of his wife again, he shoved her back against the wall. Melanie put her hands in front of her belly, protecting the life that dwelt within. Her eyes widened in shock.

"William, please!"

"Melanie, you are not going to make me fight for this tonight, are you?"

Remembering how General Tavington didn't hesitate to beat her last summer when she'd refused his advances, she thought it best to comply. "No, William," she replied meekly, "You may have your way."

With that, Melanie moved toward their bed. At the side of it, she bent herself forward over it.

Tavington studied the girl, ready for him. He did so love the view of a woman from behind and how enticing it was. His lips curved into a smile as he made his way to his wife.

Once there, he quickly pushed her skirt up over her hips, exposing her bare bottom. Equally as fast he tugged his own breeches down.

After positioning himself behind her, he grabbed her hips, steadying her, and holding her there. He drilled his stiff member into her with an unforgiving shove. Grunting as he did, William thrust himself inside her hard and fast.

His insistent pounding into her hurt the poor woman, nearly raw from not being ready and wet for him. She also worried that the roughness might harm the baby.

"Please, Will! Not so hard!," she cried. "Remember the baby!"

"Hmmm….as I recall, early last summer, you used to beg me to fuck you harder."

Not wanting to anger her tipsy husband, Melanie closed her mouth and let Will continue what he was doing. She hoped it wouldn't hurt the baby. The young woman reached forward and grabbed fists full of sheets as her husband continued plowing into her. Mrs. Tavington buried her face in the bed sheets, hiding her tears and muffling her cries as her husband took his pleasure.

After another moment, it was over as William came with a groan. He withdrew from her, then left the room. She could hear him calling for a hot bath down the hallway as she collapsed forward onto the soft bed.

After a moment of laying on the bed, catching her breath, she soon felt the room begin to spin. Melanie managed to push herself up from the bed and traipse across the room to a nearby chamber pot, where she vomited.

When she was finished, she crawled back across the room to her bed. The young wife pulled herself up from the floor and eased her sick and now sore body into the bed. She gathered the covers around her and closed her eyes, glad to finally be alone and resting.