Author's note: Thanks to Trace and Est for input! I apologize for not updating sooner. Wendy started Kindergarten! This is a LONG chapter so settle in when you read it! This story is nearing the end-only about 3-4 more chapters. Thanks again all readers for staying with the story that ballooned into an epic! I'm glad you are enjoying the story! Thanks again.

JScorpio

Chapter 80 Persuasion, Prayer, And Pain

October – November 1782

"William! The children! No, oh NO! Mary! Will! They're gone!"

General Tavington was in the second floor sitting room reading a newspaper from London his mother had sent him, enjoying the silence in the house. That quiet was shattered by his wife's frantic screams.

Immediately he jumped from his chair and bolted down the hallway toward the nursery, his wife still crying all the while. He tore through the doorway into the dark bedroom. He stopped at the crib, finding his eight month old twins sleeping soundly. He was puzzled. Then he heard Melanie scream again.

The officer trotted into their bedchamber to see his wife thrashing and tossing about on the bed. He realized that she was still asleep, having a nightmare.

William rushed to the bed and sat down beside her. The man grabbed her body and shook her gently, trying to rouse her.

"Melanie! MELANIE! Wake up, darling!," he called. "You're dreaming. Wake up!"

The young woman woke up with a start, sitting upright and looking around. She had a panicked look on her face with tears in her eyes.

"The twins, they're gone!" she besieged her husband. "William! Please!"

"No darling," he said looking into her eyes. "They're here, still. All is well."

"No, they're gone," she argued.

"No, you were having a bad dream," he urged. "They're fine. They're sound asleep in their bed."

"They are?"

"Yes."

Melanie leaned into her husband, crying onto his shoulder as he held her. After a moment, her sobs subsided and she pulled back from William.

"Do you want to see them," he asked her.

She nodded, still sniffling. With that, Tavington helped his pregnant wife out of bed and escorted her into the nursery. Mrs. Tavington looked into the crib at the two sleeping cherubs, little William and Mary. She touched each one of them and smiled in love and relief.

After a moment of gazing at them, feeling secure that they were safe, the general took his wife's hand and led her back to their room. They got into bed and Melanie wrapped herself in his arms.

"Tell me more about your dream," he murmured, kissing her head.

"I checked on the children and they were gone," she whispered.

"How?"

"It felt like someone took them," replied the young woman.

"Who?" asked Tavington.

"I don't know," she answered, "I just know that they had been kidnapped."

William moved his hand to her rounded belly, rubbing the baby there. "Darling, I know you're worrying about Colonel Martin's threats. I want you to try hard not to because I think it's bad for this little one in here. I can protect you and the childen."

"What about when you are away—"

"Melanie, I don't think he is much to fret over," assured William. "I believe he is near to dying or will be committed very soon."

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William looked at his wife sleeping soundly in bed by his side. It had been a couple of weeks since Melanie was cornered and threatened in the village by Benjamin Martin. Since then she'd suffered with insomnia and nightmares of missing children, neither good for a pregnant woman. Tavington realized though that his wife slept soundly the last couple of nights, only awakening to nurse the twins. The officer breathed a sigh of relief at this.

He sat up and swung his legs out of the bed, then rose from it. The general then padded softly across the floor to the bureau where he found an outfit for the autumn day. He dressed as quietly as he could, not wanting to wake Melanie, knowing the rest would be good for her and his child within her womb.

Soon the man picked up his boots and stockings and carried them from the room, silently closing the door behind him. William paused at the door of the nursery, looking in to catch a glimpse of his sleeping infants. The officer smiled at them, then turned and left the room. He descended the steps to the first floor as quietly as a mouse.

Once in the main gallery downstairs, he sat down, placing his boot and socks on the floor before him. He pulled on his stockings as he looked at the clock on the wall opposite him. It was six in the morning.

The general could hear the servants going about their morning work in the preparation kitchen. He could also smell the smoke coming from the cooking kitchen outside through the open side door the servants used. The smell of fresh baking bread filled his nostrils, making his stomach growl with hunger.

The chime of the clock pulled the man from his thoughts. He pulled on his boots as Mrs. Sloane whisked into the room.

"Oh, General," she said, a hint of surprise in her voice. "Good morning. Would you like something to drink?"

"Yes. Coffee if we have it," he requested. "I know that we, and everyone else for that matter, are short on it, but I'll try to see if I can get some more somewhere."

"That would be grand, sir," the main servant said with a smile.

"Mrs. Tavington is not to be disturbed this morning," William ordered politely. "I'd like her to rest."

"Of course, sir," Mrs. Sloane dutifully replied. The woman soon disappeared toward the kitchen area.

William reached to just below his knees and buttoned his breeches, then pushed them down into his boots. The general stood, now fully dressed save for his jacket. He put his arms above his head and stretched his body, then shook his head, still not fully awake. Just as quickly as he finished, Mrs. Sloane appeared handing him his coffee.

The officer took the cup and thanked the servant. He took a few sips and made his way toward the front door. Once there, Tavington opened it, finding the early morning rather mild.

He leaned against the doorway, looking out over the front green, surveying all that was his. William took a sip of his coffee as he looked up at the sky, which showed the first rays of morning. The man sighed as his gaze traveled downward to the lawn again, where he caught a strange flicker of light out of the corner of his eye. He looked again at a large tree just feet from the front porch, where a glint of light seemed to reflect from the bark.

Puzzled, General Tavington set his coffee down on the porch railing and made his way down the steps. He walked across the lane, then into the grass and soon found himself at the tree. There, he found an Indian tomahawk skewering a note to the tree. The officer pulled the hatchet from the bark and looked at the letter. It was embossed with an unbroken wax seal in the bottom corner bearing the letter "M".

His eyes narrowed and lips drew tight as he read the note. It said:

Tavington,

Your house and farm will burn.

Your children, too, shall die.

The general didn't have to guess that the letter came from Benjamin Martin. He was furious at the man's threats, yet amazed at just how insane the former militia colonel had become. The disease was obviously taking its toll, leaving the farmer mad enough to be beyond caring about his actions. But it was enough to scare William and know that he was right in believing threats made by the man, though he kept that fear from Melanie.

Yes, if Colonel Martin was crazy enough to come onto Tavington's homestead, and this close to the house, then Will could gauge easily just how far gone the man was. He decided to keep the threat to himself, and would hide the tomahawk and note. William was concerned over Melanie in her delicate condition and didn't need her worrying anymore than what she already was.

Will discreetly walked to the horse barn, where he bundled and tied the tomahawk and note into a blanket, then tucked them into his saddlebag. He hoped that no one would find them there.

The officer walked back to the house, picking his coffee up off the railing. He figured that the slaves and farmhands hadn't seen Martin's little display, for they would have brought it to him. As far as he knew, he was the first and only one to find it.

William walked up the steps to the second floor, trying to keep his booted feet as quiet as possible. He felt the urgent need to check his family. The man first looked in on is children. He was relieved to find the twins still sleeping. He bent over the crib and gave each a gentle kiss. Then he walked the few steps into his own bedchamber. Tavington walked to the side of the bed and gazed at his beautiful wife, sleeping with a slight smile on her face. He leaned over, placing a hand on Melanie's swollen belly where she carried his child, then kissed her softly on the cheek.

"I love you," he whispered. "Don't worry. I'll take care of you and the children."

William resolved right then to take care of the worrisome militia colonel. Tavington wasn't sure what he would do yet, but he knew he had to handle the Martin situation on his own.

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Two days later, William left his wife and family to check on the new mill being built at Abbington. He told her that he would only be gone a day and a night. The general went alone, much to Melanie's dismay, and out of uniform. He promised her that he'd be discreet and travel off the main roads.

What Mrs. Tavington didn't know was that her husband lied to her, doing so out of necessity. He had to have an excuse to cover him as he took care of business with Benjamin Martin and his family.

General Tavington wasn't thinking about lying to his wife when he stole onto Drakespar, the Selton and Martin plantation. Instead the officer was focused on the task at hand, which was dealing with the insane Colonel Martin.

As Will made his way hidden in the woods and brush around the plantation, he barely remembered it save for the grand main house, which he and his men had burnt down. It had been months since he was there, and it was at night. As he moved and looked about, he recalled things that James Wilkins had told him about this farm.

William remembered that this had been the plantation that was the family home of the Selton's. When the late John Selton died, it was inherited by his wife at the time, Charlotte Putnam. Martin, too had a large farm that had been burnt by the dragoons. His family had moved from there after it was destroyed to reside with their aunt.

Now that the former Mrs. Selton was married to Colonel Martin, she sold Martin's farm land. Gone, too, was the Putnam grand mansion in Charles Towne, confiscated by the British. The whole Martin family now, including the new child Mrs. Martin had with Benjamin, lived here.

The one thing about the plantation that General Tavington recollected clearly was the grand main house which when last he laid eyes upon it, was in flames. It had been rebuilt, and many of the outbuildings survived that night, as well. William had staked this area out from the surrounding woods, watching the comings and goings of the servants and family. He was close enough to hear two servants talking to each other, speaking of the mistress readying for a walk of the farm.

This was all William needed to hear. He moved quickly through the woods to a remote corner of the plantation, near a swamp, where he could watch. He silently staked himself out there, waiting. He banked on the fact that the mistress, carrying a heavy load of running a farm, caring for a baby, a sick husband, and the five remaining Martin children who had become rebellious and wild, would want relief. This remote glade on her property, he hoped, would be her point of solace, for it was quiet and deserted.

Before he retreated into his place, he chopped down a small tree over the trampled path in the grass. He deliberately left the tomahawk in the tree to be seen. William crouched low in the brush at the tree line, watching intently.

As he waited, he thought back over the decision he'd made and was content with it. Tavington knew that with Martin in the throes of insanity, that there would be no reasoning with him. He knew that the one way to get what he wanted, was to go through Mrs. Martin.

After an hour or so, he caught sight of Mrs. Martin emerging from a tree lined lane. As he watched her leave the road and stroll into the grass, he noticed that she was still beautiful, a fact that had not escaped him months ago. But now she looked sad, worn and tired.

Through his long glass, he saw her face twist into a quizzical expression as she noticed the felled sapling across the path. Her mouth dropped open when she realized it was her husband's weapon stuck in the bark.

William smiled as the woman took the bait, walking right to the tree. The officer padded quietly through the grass up behind her. As she raised up from the tree, he clasped her from behind, clamping his hand solidly over her mouth. She struggled for an instant until the man put his pistol to her temple.

The woman gasped behind his hand. He brought his mouth down close to her ear. "Scream and I'll put a bullet in your head," he warned in a low voice. "Try to run and I'll shoot you. I'm an excellent marksman and I will not miss. Do you understand?"

The scared woman nodded mutely. Charlotte was turned by him, all the while he kept her firmly in his grasp.

"Do not test me, Mrs. Martin. You know what I am capable of and I won't hesitate to hurt you if I have to."

Charlotte's eyes widened as she recognize General Tavington, not in uniform. He grabbed her arm and ushered her into the woods, keeping his gun drawn on her the whole time.

Tavington took a bit of rope from his belt and quickly lashed the Martin woman's wrists tightly together. With her hands bound in front of her, William then pulled her thin shawl off her shoulders and twisted it quickly. He wrapped it around her head, gagging the woman to keep her silent. He pushed her back squarely into a large tree, holding her there with his weapon.

"Mrs. Martin, is this your husband's tomahawk?" Tavington held the weapon up in front of her, displaying it as if it were a piece of finery.

She nodded yes. Her eyes betrayed her, clearly showing her fright to her attacker.

"Of course it is," the general agreed with her. He then reached one hand into his jacket and pulled out a piece of paper, which he again held up to the woman's face. "And is this your husband's writing and the Martin seal?"

William watched her eyes intently as they darted back and forth, reading the content of the note. He saw her body sink a bit as she sighed.

"I found this pinned to a tree on my farm," Tavington began. "Clearly, your husband has been there recently to pay my family a visit. I found it there in the morning—it wasn't there the evening before so he came in the middle of the night. Odd time to come calling, don't you think?"

"Your husband can't seem to control himself in public anymore," William stated. "You were there when he accosted my wife and Mrs. Wilkins in the village. Mrs. Martin, if you can't manage him, then something needs to be done to take care of that."

The pretty blonde looked up at him, her eyes wide in mute terror. She wasn't sure what this man's next move was. Mrs. Martin wasn't sure if he was going to hurt her, her husband, or what.

"I hope that you and I can come to some kind of agreement on that now." General Tavington looked down at her menacingly, his ice blue eyes burning, showing that he meant business and was not a man to be argued with.

The officer continued. "It's obvious. He is sick, insane and you can no longer contain him. He needs to be confined so that he can't hurt anyone."

The woman knew the hidden meaning behind the butcher's words: he meant so that Benjamin couldn't hurt his family. Tears came to Charlotte Martin's eyes. It was true that she couldn't manage Ben's erratic actions anymore.

The officer bent his tall frame down close to the woman, his face close to hers. "It's time that you send him away to the asylum. Do you understand?"

The woman nodded, tears in her eyes. She hoped he would leave now, having made his point to her and she agreeing to it.

"I need assurance that you will do as I wish." With that, he grabbed Mrs. Martin from where she leaned against the tree. He shoved her down, bending her body forward over a large fallen tree. She struggled, her cries muffled by her own shawl gagging her.

William threw the back of her skirts up, exposing her bare ass end. With his gloved hand, he inserted a finger into her vagina, then another one. She became moist very quickly. The man was is astonished at how quickly she did.

Mrs. Martin continued to struggle, shaking her head in disbelief as the man invaded her. It was to no avail, he held her down firmly.

"It's amazing how fast that Yankee quim of yours became wet," he taunted. "Could that be because you lack male attention? Of course. I'm sure you haven't been touched there in awhile."

"Well, you must want a bit of something in it," Tavington continued to tease. The general withdrew his fingers. He then slowly pushed the plain, straight handle of the tomahawk into her moistness.

The woman screamed again, her cries lost within the material of her shawl and the remoteness of the forest. She began to weep at the humiliation and pain of this act.

"Well, something of your husband's has found its way into you," he jeered. "Close your eyes and imagine that its him. Perhaps you'll even find some pleasure in it."

After he fucked the woman for a few moments with her husband's weapon, he felt her sufficiently scared and intimidated, and withdrew it from her. Tavington let her go, no longer restraining her, knowing very well she couldn't run now.

Charlotte felt faint. She sank to the ground by the log, with her womanhood throbbing in pain, and thoroughly shamed. The woman flinched as the officer bent down to undo her gag. Tavington dropped the shawl, which dropped to the ground in front of the poor woman. He then threw Martin's tomahawk down, making her jump in fear again. It skewered the shawl to the ground. Just inches in front of her now, Mrs. Martin stared at the handle of the weapon in disbelief, slick with her womanly fluid and blood.

The general pulled his dagger from his boot holster and cut the woman's rope bonds from her wrist. He carefully collected the pieces of rope, not wanting to leave any evidence behind. Then he grabbed the other end of her shawl and wiped the tomahawk handle off with it. He wadded the wrap into a ball and threw it down to the woman, now with a hole in it and stained with her fluid.

"I'll be keeping these with me, of course," William said as he tucked the tomahawk into his sword belt, and pocketed Benjamin Martin's damning letter.

"Should you choose to speak of what happened here today and of our little agreement to anyone, then it will be your word against mine," Tavington threatened. "I will deny it all, then show the authorities your husband's little souvenirs and threats here that he left for my family. I'm sure the magistrate will be interested in them. Then they will hang him."

"I am warning you—lock him away. If you don't, I will come back for another visit to you. And if you make me have to return, I won't be happy about it, and I can assure you, that things will be most unpleasant for you. It will be worse than it was today."

With that, Tavington turned and was gone within seconds, leaving nothing, other than a battered and severely frightened and shaken Charlotte Martin behind.

As he trod back through the woods to where his horse was, tied to a tree by the stream, he remembered his wife. He recalled how Colonel Harry Burwell had raped her brutally with the handle of his dagger, intimidating and breaking the spirit of the young woman. And now, William had just done nearly the same thing to another woman, breaking her down and scaring her into doing something he wanted. It was that moment that he vowed to himself that Melanie must never, ever find out what he'd done.

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It was now mid November, a couple of weeks after Tavington had paid his visit to Charlotte Martin, and he'd heard nothing of Benjamin Martin's whereabouts, but had thankfully no more midnight visits from the insane militia colonel, either. William hoped for the time being that no news was good news.

The general's wife was now six months along. She hadn't felt or slept well the night before, so Tavington left her at home when he rode out on an errand today. On the way home, he stopped at the Wilkins' farm. He was met at the front porch before he could even dismount.

"General," Josephine the maid, yelled, "Major Wilkins is on horseback trying to find you."

"I didn't see him," Tavington replied. "Why?"

"It's your wife! You're needed at home immediately! Mrs. Wilkins is already there with her!"

"What's wrong?" a concerned Tavington asked, trying to stay calm.

"I'm not sure. One of your servants came looking for you here, and ended up taking Mrs. Wilkins back with him."

With that, Tavington drove his heels into the horse and headed at a run toward his plantation. Home within a few moments, William tore up the front steps and into the house. He could hear Melanie screaming in pain and ran up the stairs.

"Melanie!" He threw the bedroom door open to find Mrs. Sloan, Diedre, and Mrs. Wilkins trying to calm his wife, who was writhing in pain on the bed. Bridget, eight months pregnant herself, sat next to the bed, holding her hand.

Mrs. Wilkins looked at the worried officer and spoke for Melanie, who could do nothing but groan. "Mrs. Sloane said she woke up in pain this morning, and she's been bleeding. The doctor and midwife have been sent for."

"It's….too early," William said in disbelief, watching his wife crying in pain. He sat down next to her and took her other hand, amazed at how hard she was squeezing it.

After a few moments, Melanie turned her head and looked at her husband. Her eyes and face were full of pleading. "William, please help me. Help our baby."

William's heart broke as she begged him. What could he do? "The doctor and midwife will be here shortly, darling. Everything will be fine. Keep holding on."

"Don't leave me," she begged.

"I won't," he promised. "I will be right beside you."

After another hour of anxious pain, the midwife, Mrs. Bronner finally appeared. As she was taking off her shawl she began giving instructions to the women. Then she positioned herself at the end of the bed. "Draw your legs up, Mrs. Tavington. I need to examine you to see how close you are."

"No! No!," the girl screamed. "It's not time yet! He's not coming yet." She refused to bring her legs up.

"Darling, please let her help you, darling," her husband said in a gentle voice, nearly pleading with her.

Melanie frantically grabbed Will's sleeve as he rose to leave. "Will, no! I'm not having this baby yet. I know that's not it! It's something else."

"Yes darling, but you must let her look at you to confirm that," Tavington said, nearly begging.

William left the room and let the women work. He closed the door behind him and went to the alcove where he dropped down into a chair. The officer closed his eyes, hoping they could do something for his wife's pain for she cried so loudly. Then he began to pray for his wife and baby within her womb.

Mrs. Wilkins came out to rest and tend to the twins. She stood before the General and tried to reassure him. "I know they will do all they can for her."

He nodded in silence, worried for Melanie, as Bridget left the room to take care of Mary and Will.

In the bedroom, the women were still working on the pregnant woman. "Mrs. Tavington, draw your knees up again, please," Mrs. Bronner requested. Melanie did so, crying as she did, and begging for her to help the baby.

There was another hour of agonizing pain for Melanie before she finally fainted. It would be a long afternoon and equally as long night.

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William sat with an unconscious wife all night long, holding her hand. Every once in awhile she would groan. Her fever had broken, but she was still a little warm to his touch.

Finally, her eyes fluttered open. She turned her head to look at her husband, dozing in the chair beside the bed holding her hand. "William."

Tavington opened his eyes to look at Melanie. He looked worn and weary. "How do you feel?"

"A bit of pain," she whispered, her hands moving to her abdomen, which she caressed through the quilt.

Silence passed between the two for a long moment. William sat forward in his chair, looking forlorn. He looked down at the floor as he broke the quiet.

"Melanie," he began, his voice trembling, "the baby is gone."

Mrs. Tavington closed her eyes for a moment. Her head was pounding. She knew she hadn't heard him correctly with the throbbing of her headache.

She looked at him, puzzled. "What?"

William felt so much pain to have to say it again. "He's gone. It was too early and he was stillborn."

She glared at him, not understanding why he was saying it. Melanie grunted with pain as she pushed herself up to sitting. "No! You're lying! It's not time for him to come yet."

The young woman started to pull the covers back, her hands moving to her abdomen. "No! He's fine!" Then Mrs. Tavington started to get out of bed.

"Melanie, you can't! You have to stay in bed," William tried to keep her in.

She pushed him away and scurried out, with much pain, the other side of the bed. "Get away from me."

"I'm still carrying him!" she shouted as she traipsed to the full length mirror.

"Melanie please!" Will begged.

The girl quickly pulled her shift up above her belly. She looked at her side view in the mirror and noticed that her abdomen now carried a different way. Where the baby was seemed to have dropped lower, and her belly, while still rounded a bit, wasn't as full as it was just a couple of days ago.

Her hands flew to her middle and began to touch it crazily. She caressed it, then pushed on it, frantically moving her hands from place to place about it.

She panicked when things felt different. Her abdomen was not firm anymore as when carrying a fetus. It was soft.

Melanie shook her head in disbelief and began to wail. She shouted frantically! "No! NO! Where is he?" She thought this was a cruel joke. "I want my son! I want my baby back!"

After another look in the mirror at her belly, she let out a blood curdling scream. Then her knees buckled and she fell to the floor, crying hysterically. She curled into a fetal position, crying, "I want to see him! I want him back!"

Tavington ran to her, gathering her body into his arms, against him. As he rocked her, she grabbed fists full of his shirt, pulling on it frantically. "I want to see my son! Bring him to me!"

"I can't, Melanie," Tavington said, fighting his own tears, hating to see his wife with a broken heart.

"WHERE IS HE!" she screamed hysterically.

"He's buried, darling," William murmured. "You had him yesterday. He's dead. There was nothing that could be done."

Melanie collapsed against his chest, burying her face and weeping horribly. Will, still holding her close in his arms, picked her up and put her back in bed, climbing in with her.

Mrs. Sloane heard the commotion and was soon pounding at the door. Sticking her head in at the terrible scene, she asked "What do you need me to do, sir?"

"Nothing, right now, just….just give us time alone," he requested. "No visitors."

"Yes sir," she answered.

"And please, send for the Reverend Beck to come out from town," he asked. "We need him."

"I will," she replied.

When the door closed, he reclined down into bed, holding Melanie's trembling body against his. She was racked with sobs.

"Why couldn't I see him?" she wept.

"We thought it best you didn't," Will said.

Melanie pulled back from her husband. "You saw him? Did you hold him?"

"Yes. I saw him," Will answered painfully. He remembered the horrible sight of his dead, stillborn son. The baby, as a six month fetus, was about eight inches in length. He recalled how blood covered the baby boy was. He also thought that the poor little thing's face was a bit swollen, for the cord was wrapped about its neck. The officer touched the baby, recollecting how thin the skin felt, and how fragile his little body was. It was a sight that he would never forget for the rest of his life, leaving his heart broken and aching for the baby boy.

"I didn't hold him," Will continued. "He was so tiny and was blood covered. I touched him for a moment. He was wrapped in towels held by the midwife."

Melanie cried harder now. Just two days ago she was carrying a baby, feeling him move, and so happy to be pregnant again. She couldn't wait to have him. Now he was gone and her womb was empty.

"Reverend Beck was summoned," William murmured to his wife, "And the baby was given a proper Christian burial. He is near your family."

Melanie Tavington cried for over an hour, her husband holding her all the while. After a period shaky calm filled with sniffles, the young woman asked in a whisper, "Was he named?"

"Yes. I named him."

"What is his name?" she asked tearfully.

"Worthe Caldwell Tavington," he answered. Will took the maiden names of both their mothers and named him after their families.

"How could this happen, William?" she sobbed. "I wanted him so much."

"I did, too, darling," Will echoed, his voice quivering. "I did too."

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After a couple of days recovering in bed, Mrs. Tavington was allowed, after begging her husband tearfully, to leave her bedchamber. With William's help, she visited her stillborn son's grave. He had been buried in the Prescott family cemetery on the plantation. He was put into the vacant row in front of where Hayden Prescott and his family lay. William, upon his marriage to Melanie eighteen months ago, had requested that this section be for the Tavington branch of the family. It was heartbreaking to the man that one family member already occupied the plot.

General Tavington held his wife as she cried, kneeling near the simple white cross marking the grave. William had already commissioned a permanent marker from a local stone mason to be placed later.

Tears flowed freely down Melanie's face as she wondered what baby Worthe would have looked like. She wondered also what kind of a child, and then man, he would have become. The girl longed to see the face of the child that had been within her womb only short days ago. Her arms ached to hold the infant son that had moved inside her.

After a few minutes, Melanie contained herself a bit, and stopped crying. She looked up and gazed blindly at her family's gravestones, behind her dead son's.

"William," she spoke in a faraway voice, "Will you be upset with me if I can't give you anymore children?"

"Of course not." He took her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"I just….I…my body," she stammered, sniffling as she did, "My body. My womb. Maybe I can't carry children."

Melanie shook her head as she looked at the ground, trying to collect her thoughts. She went on. "I miscarried Alexander's child at four months. I had trouble with the twins' pregnancy and they were early. And I just had a stillbirth. Maybe I am not meant to have children."

"Melanie, you've given me two beautiful children, and one a male heir. Will and Mary are healthy and perfect. I couldn't ask for anything more!" General Tavington leaned in and kissed his wife's lips softly and lovingly.

"C'mon, it's getting colder out here," a concerned William said. "Let's get you back inside."

The officer wrapped his arm about his wife and helped her into the house. They took slow steps, her body still feeling pain from the birth.

Once inside the door, the sound of hoofs beating hurriedly down the lane made their heads turn. It was James Wilkins. He jumped off the horse and skipped up the steps.

"Good day," he said with a smile as he entered.

The Tavington's greeted him, Will still holding his wife. "I came to tell you that Bridget isn't coming to sit with Melanie today. Jimmy is sick."

"She needs her rest, anyway," Melanie said. "Please give her my regards."

"Diedre, would you please help my wife back upstairs and into bed?", Tavington requested.

"Yes sir." With that, she helped the mistress of the house back up the stairway.

Mrs. Sloane breezed into the front gallery. "Good afternoon, Major Wilkins," she called. "Would you like some tea?"

"Yes, please. Thank you!"

"You look like a man with a secret, Jim," William noted, showing his neighbor into the small parlor.

"Well, I do have some news," he answered.

"And what's that," asked the general as he sat down in the chair by the fireplace.

"I received a letter from Adelaide this morning," he announced.

"And what did your honorable sister have to say," asked Will.

"Benjamin Martin has been sent away," he said. "He has an older brother who moved to the Kentucky territory before the war started. Edward Martin and his wife agreed to take care of him. Apparently their cabin is in the middle of nowhere, so he can't be of a danger to anyone."

"That's a relief," William simply said.

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Author's note: In this chapter, Tavington makes a comment about trying to obtain some more coffee for Mrs. Sloane. During the American Revolution, coffee and tea, and sugar were in very short supply and hard to get. In homes they were often kept under lock and key. Even the wealthy had problems keeping it on hand.