South Carolina
1777(ish--give or take a couple years....)

There was something strange about Joseph Carleton, the "new boy," as the other dragoons called him. Upon meeting the stern and impressive Colonel Tavington, the young horseman had been reserved, almost coy, in his responses to any question or statement. However, his eyes were unafraid, something that unsettle the colonel. The new lad stood a good head below Tavington and spoke with a meekness that rendered him wholly unintimidating. No, only the eyes and the taught ferocity caged within them had an unnerving effect on even the most battle hardened.

This recruit was jostled childishly by his fellow members of horse. The small stature of the man and his aura of frailty made him susceptible to any host of tauntings and beatings. Even Wilkins, who was generally sneered at, set upon the young man to make life miserable in exchange for his own insecurities. No reason for the cruelty could be decided; save for his youthful appearance and the fact he rarely spoke. And when he did, his words were as soft and sweet as his face. Only Captain Bordon treated him cordially, even spending evenings discussing books with the young man.

Wilkins sauntered into the mess tent one evening after a particularly bad meeting with the colonel. As all bullies do when they are bullied, he swooped upon the easiest target.

"Hey, mute," Wilkins bellowed, demonstrating the extent of his wit. "Why do you get such preferential treatment? We've ne'er seen you cursed and yelled at by the colonel."

Joseph shrugged and quietly continued to take in his supper.

Wilkins glowered at the "new boy." The captain joined a group of dragoons who had actually accepted him and stewed as he waited for a reply. When none was given, he flung a small pebble at Joseph. The young horseman did not flinch.

"Answer me, boy!" the captain bawled, his precious little authority being subverted against. "I asked you somethin' and I want an answer!"

No response. Wilkins began to catcall the recruit, and a few others snickered. Most ignored the boorish captain and went about their business. It was no small wonder that Tavington hated the man--he was an embarrassment to the legion. He bungled his duties and constantly questioned authority. Even the generally mild tempered Captain Bordon had muttered: "Our integrity diminishes every time that turn-coat bastard breathes."

"You've got such a priddy face, boy," Wilkins snickered. "Have you been appeasin' the colonel with that girly face?"

The dragoon turned on his assailant furiously. There was little Carleton could do, as the buffoon, sadly, was his superior. He drew his graceful form up to his full height besides Wilkins. They stared into each other's eyes. The captain sneered and slapped Joseph across the rump.

"Does the colonel's trollop work for other clients?"

Joseph blinked, then dealt Wilkins a fierce blow to the jaw with his fist. The captain swayed, cracked his head on a table, and toppled from his seat. Wilkins was unconscious with line of blood trickling from his mouth.

"Funny--I had always thought hot air kept things aloft." The young man shrugged and stepped over his dazed tormenter. Gawking dragoons allowed him a wide berth as he made his way toward the entrance. Bordon blocked his way out, unamused.

"Joseph," sighed Bordon, guiding the horseman out. "You just pulled a prank that will get you into some serious trouble with Colonel Tavington. I must turn you in for assaulting an officer. The colonel may lessen your punishment as you were defending yourself, but--"

"John, I understand," Carleton said softly. "But that captain is such a fool--"

"I know, I know. Come with me." The captain started for the colonel's tent. Joseph followed willingly, heart pounding in his throat. He showed no signs on his exterior of being frightened, but he was terrified. Though the word of Captain Wilkins was generally untrustworthy, surely the colonel was some sort of sadist baby-eater....

They made their way to the colonel's tent in the increasing darkness. Both were silent. Bordon's hawkish face was worried and rueful in the glow of various campfires. The captain spotted Tavington's tent easily, as it was the only canvas structure illuminated from within by various lamps and candles.

Colonel Tavington was hunkered over his desk, furiously scratching out reports. He squinted in the candle light at the papers, muttering about a variety of peeves. Tavington looked sleep deprived and haunted with his hair coming loose from his scalp-wrenching braid and the soft candle glow illuminating every worn hollow of his face. He peered up irately over his quill and surveyed his two visitors.

"What's this?" he demanded.

"Sir," Bordon said, bowing, "there has been a bit of an incident that requires your judgement."

Tavington sat up in his chair with a sharp intake of breath. He looked coldly at Joseph. "Oh? Proceed with your complaint, Captain."

"Well, it's not my complaint, sir--Mr. Carleton here has just assaulted Captain Wilkins. It had to be reported by me, as the captain is unconscious."

"Is that all?" Tavington smirked. "What for, if I may be so bold, Mr. Carleton?"

Joseph gathered himself superbly and faced the colonel levelly. "Sir, I was merely defending myself. I should not have been so rash as to strike the captain, but at the moment, and in my temper, I thought it was a sound reason--"

"From what were you defending yourself?" the colonel smiled slightly. He appeared highly interested in Carleton's story.

"Sir, there are several who seem to take pleasure in taunting me," he replied with a slight smile, and added, "because I appear somewhat effeminate. Captain Wilkins began to bully me in front of everyone and threw rocks at me. He continued to tease me and even began to slander you somewhat."

"In what manner?"

"He said I was your whore, sir." Bordon stifled a giggle into his palm. The colonel shot him a glance, completely displeased. Bordon nodded gravely in concession and straightened with a snort. His eyes returned their focus on the narrator.

Tavington colored a moment in ire then recomposed himself. "Continue, Mr. Carleton."

"Well, sir, he then slapped me across the buttocks and propositioned me. It was then I punched him. So, sir, there is my story, perfectly related. Entirely true." Joseph studied his commander's rigid face in earnest. Their unrelenting eyes met and for a moment, Tavington cringed.

"Everything I saw was exactly as he described," Bordon contributed.

The colonel paused a moment to think. He closed his eyes and hummed a little as he imbibed and considered what the recruit had said. It did not appear as if the young man was lying, and after all, it was only Wilkins. If anything, Tavington ought to congratulate the whippy little dragoon shifting nervously before him. It was now a question of who bothered him more. The colonel's eyes snapped open, having arrived at his decision.

"Mr. Carleton, as you have an officer, I must pass punishment on you. Be thankful--had you launched yourself at Captain Bordon," he nodded in the direction of the officer, "I would likely have you flogged. But, having my reasons, I will only assign you to emptying chamber pots in the hospital for a week."

Joseph bowed low in great courtesy. "Thank you, sir."

"You may leave now." Tavington waved them away, returning to his reports. Bordon retreated from the tent.

However, Joseph remained, frowning. "You never write me anymore."

Tavington snapped to attention. "I beg your pardon, Mr. Carleton?" His eyes narrowed quizzically at the young man pouting at him. Carleton leaned against the desk and pulled a letter written in an eccentric looking hand that was barely discernible as feminine from under a candle. He flicked a few wax drippings from the paper and sighed.

"You know it is dangerous to keep paper under fire like that." He replaced the candle. "Have you become so asocial as to forget family, William?"

"Your face is familiar, but I do not recall us--"

"William, are you that thickheaded?" the young man said in disbelief.

Tavington's face paled as he scrutinized the soft visage of Joseph Carleton. "Edward? Brother, you've certainly changed--and the false name?"

"Lummox! It's me!" Joseph cried, shaking loose his hair. The colonel nearly fainted as he got to his feet. Standing before him with a subversive smile was a handsome young woman of twenty-six. Her auburn hair framed her face, adding an even more wild light to her green and ash-grey eyes. The high, delicate cheekbones inherited from her mother were illuminated with a laughing blush.

"Constance Tavington!" Her brother beheld his baby sister, pleased to see her. No questions were asked as he threw his arms about her waist and kissed her. "Oh, little sister! How good it is to see you!"

She was not so enthused. "You have not written me in years! I will not take excuses, William."

"I've been busy," he replied, still smiling.

"The exciting events of the past few days have proved it," Constance said dryly.

"Well, I, ah--what in hell are you doing here?" he was suddenly serious, remembering his duties as an older brother. "You should be swamped with children and certainly not here!"

"That's what you think." Constance rebound her hair with the pursed lipped expression characteristic of their family. "Had I a husband."

William stared at his sister with a baffled look. "What do you mean by 'Had I a husband?'"

"Exactly what I said," she snorted with a half laugh.

"But, I thought you married, ah, whatsisname, Mr--" Tavington scratched his head, trying to remember. His sister sighed and shook her head.

"Do you remember crazy Mr. Fitzwilliam--the one who was madly in love with me and wrote me love letters every day for two years?"

"Yes...I do recall him."

"See, father was foolish enough to invite him to my wedding--"

"He is a family friend, Constance."

Her eyes widened dramatically. "Not any more. Anyhow, in a twist that no one could have ever conceived, Mr. Fitzwilliam charged into my room on the wedding night. My husband was there, ah, of course," she blushed a bit.

"So, Mr. Fitzwilliam drew his sword and ran my husband through. He then proceeded to proclaim his undying love, no matter whether I had yet been 'tainted' by my husband, and he begged me to run away with him to Austria.

"I say no and start to scream, sob, &c., as loud as you please over my poor murdered husband. Every servant in the house ran in and saw crazy Mr. Fitzwilliam spouting epic poetry and me in my bloody underwear, in tears, clutching my husband. They pounced on him and dragged him off and I have been a widow ever since with 'spinster' stamped upon my brow...." Her eyes grew misty and far away. She brought a handkerchief to her eyes.

"Oh, Constance...you cannot be serious!" William opened his arms to her again. His face was pale and shocked.

"No, I'm not," Constance snapped, whacking her brother. Her face was now mocking. "It just proves how insensitive of a big brother you are as to not write me and find out!"

"Fine, Constance; you've proved your point. Enough dramatics from you. What really happened?"

She took in a breath and folded her hands above her belly. "Well, I was going to marry a very handsome young man of considerable wealth from a very respected family. We grew to be very much in love before our impending marriage in the summer. Oh, how we doted on each other! He was my little lamb. I would read to him in the garden, play music for him, he would take me hunting, and everyone said I was very handsome on his arm.

"But, as we know, father lusted for Dame Fortune, and blew his entire estate away at her desire. With the sweep of an ill-played hand, it was gone. He continued to lose and lose and died a penniless, alcohol sodden death at our winter lodge. Suddenly with no money, our family's reputation and honor mangled, I was not very pretty to my betrothed.

"Once the toast of our circle, I was then cast aside and forgotten by our former 'friends.' I struggled to make ends meet and had to sell almost everything just to stay alive. Nevermind all my clothes were out of fashion--which did not matter to me as long as I was alive. Only dear, dear Alexander Swift, your oldest and dearest friend, who was also like a third brother to me, took pity on me and supported me with anonymous 'donations.' However, your best friend decided that I was obligated to repay him, somehow--" she paused, lip trembling as she fought to restrain the tears. Constance punched into her thigh, averting her gaze. "And since I was just 'that Tavington girl' to everyone else, no one cared what he did to me. Not so much as a care when he dragged me out of the ----'s ball to the stables and forced me there." Her face was stony now, and she had reined in the threatening tears. "At least you and Edward have some semblance of honor left."

William took his sister in his arms and held her close to him. "I am sorry I was not there for you, darling. I am so sorry." He stroked her hair as she began to weep.

"There's nothing that can be done now," the sister mumbled into his shoulder. She dried her eyes on her sleeve, finding it far more functional than the little handkerchief.

"So, destitute, ravaged, and ill, I came to the colonies with only my horse Roxelana, thinking I could at least sell her once I arrived her if I must. I came to the colonies to find you. That was perhaps two years ago, when all this trouble with the peasants began to brew dangerously. I saw you but once, up north in New York before you were a colonel. At least you were alive, and that pleased me. So I wrote you. When that method failed, I tracked you down and joined your dragoons."

"But why not find Edward?"

"Last anyone knew, Edward was destined to the same fate as Father. Someone told me Edward decided to go to either Russia or Egypt. Where, God knows. Why, be damned if anyone, even God, knows."

Tavington sighed. So this was his little sister now. He remembered when she was about a year old and their mother admitted the girl was her favorite, even over the charming little William. His middle brother, Edward, was generally misliked, for he was dull-witted, boorish, and treated everyone like his inferior. William had found his baby sister when she wandered off just after she learned to walk. He was ten then, and little Constance had adored him from that moment on. He called her 'Kitty' for her fixation with the tabby cat that belonged to a servant. As she learned to talk, she had a difficult time attempting to say 'brother'. Somehow it had come out sounding like 'Bunny.' Much to his dismay, that had been his loving sobriquet for his entire life, and most especially when she pleaded for something.

Constance had always been the oddity to the typically sullen males of the family. They were not entirely devoid of humor, but they had the tendency to grow too focused in their pursuits. No, the girl had been like her poor mother, who died on Constance's fourth birthday. Elizabeth Tavington had been a jovial spirit, very inclined to music, pranks, and art. She had written a series of comic sketches for her family's entertainment. Had she lived longer, she would have been much pleased with her daughter's quick jokes, quirky laugh, and ability bordering on virtuosity on the strings. And Constance was just as lovely as Mrs. Tavington was with a delicate round face of intricate features. Both possessed a magnificent pair of large eyes and vibrant auburn hair. Brother and sister had inherited her green eyes--the son's more of a translucent jade.

Tavington could not peel his eyes from her. He felt great sorrow for her and for failing in his role as big brother. He forced himself to say: "You should not be here, Constance. A melancholy thing this war is to a man, but it would entirely destroy a woman. I am forced to discharge you. I cannot, in good conscience, allow my sister to offer her life in the service of the very people who shamed her." There was finality to his tone as he searched through papers on his desk. "You must."

"No, I must not, William Tavington!" Raging eyes transfixed him and brought him back down into his chair. Constance had always been temperamental when her motives were threatened.

"William, you and I are the only true Tavingtons left! Edward be damned; he's a fool and a drunkard just like our father! We are noble despite having our dignity and esteem ripped coldly from us as if it were no more than a dingy dishclout! You are all I have left of that former life. You are proud and strong and noble and my beloved Bunny. I cannot allow you to die for the same reasons you have named for me. I am not going to permit myself to allow you to slip away without going mad. Please, William, I can protect you better than you believe. Remember how we used to go hunting? You taught me to shoot, ride, and Bordon has been teaching me to fence properly. I make good progress, he says."

"These bumpkins don't fence with etiquette, Constance. It's not as simple as you think."

"How so? Surely bagging red-necked yahoo is no more difficult than shooting a partridge." She shifted on her hips with a wry grin. He allowed himself a chuckle as she continued: "Surely we can spit roast a few for supper. Methinks rice would be a lovely side-dish."

"Constance, you are vile. You have not changed one little bit."

"Oh? You think?" she mused aloud. "I think I'm worse than I was when you last saw me."

He buried his head in his hands. "Very well then. I will allow you to stay. I will watch out for you, and you will watch out for me. I assume that's agreed. Now, I would like you to grant me one favor."

She prepared to leave, figuring on visiting Bordon. "What is that, dear brother?"

"I would like it very much if my sister would ride into camp tomorrow and visit. No façade for a few days. Is that acceptable?" He was stern, gazing fixedly at her. "Is that a feasible request?"

"How long do I have to be female?" The oddity of the question caused both of them to blink in puzzlement. Constance began to laugh uproariously. "A few days. Agreed." She crossed to his spot behind the desk and kissed his forehead. "I'll leave now and stay the night at an inn. I still have a few dresses in my trunk. Miss Tavington will ride in tomorrow, handsome and polished as ever. Now, goodnight, brother. I will see you in the morn." She kissed his forehead again and disappeared into the dark.

The colonel collapsed onto the desk, unsure of what was to come of his sister's appearance in camp. He wanted to hide from it all--this was not a responsibility he wanted now. He loved his sister, but she was too much of a handful to tolerate on top of the enigmatic wraith massacring officers at every skirmish and the Lord General's wrath.

William Tavington began to pray.

A lone figure clad in green came galloping at top speed on a handsome chestnut jennet over the ridge toward camp. A long floating sheet of white followed the rider, and those who watched their approaching could only wonder how their hat managed to stay on at such a breakneck run. As the rider drew neared and was distinguishable as female, all the men began to offer little prayers in hopes that she was beautiful and unmarried.

The rider did not fail their expectations. Constance reined her mount into a brisk, high-stepping trot and surveyed her surroundings as if discovering new territory. It was only necessary for her to pretend she had never been in the camp before.

A collective sigh rose from the soldiery as Constance rode in. She rode perfectly erect and graceful. Never had a woman cut a more dashing figure than in a green military style coat with black facings and gold trim. A simple fall and cravat adorned her neck while a tall-crowned black hat with a green cockade titled rakishly over a loose bun. It all ended in a plain whitish colored skirt, rumpled at the hems with dirt. From under her skirt peeked the toes of her uniform black boots. She beamed at her new legions of admirers and trotted onward.

There was a great racket now spreading throughout the masses that forced Constance to wonder what her brother had done to these poor men. Officers bowed and lifted their hats while the baser soldiers hooted and whistled. A tall curly-haired fellow blocked her way. He sauntered suavely up to her side and bowed awkwardly. Wilkins gazed up at her, trying to be sophisticated.

"Sir," Constance said loftily, "may I inquire where to find Colonel William Tavington?"

He continued to goggle at her.

She shifted with a frown and waved her quirt at him. "Methinks, sirrah, you are wanting greatly in propriety. 'Tis most ungentlemanly to stare, though one may expect it from more...mundane stock," she snapped, waving him away with an elegant flourish of her hand. Constance wished to erupt with laughter at her own snobbery.

"Forgive me, Miss. I-I -- "

She ignored him and tapped her horse's side with her heel.

Hearing the ruckus and sound of horse's hooves outside, Colonel Tavington assumed his sister had arrived. Bordon jumped in surprise as the colonel scrambled to his feet in the middle of their conversation and bolted out of the tent in a manner most unbefitting of him. The captain remained by his superior's desk, feeling a little dejected, but nevertheless loyal enough to wait for his return.

"Ah! William! Brother!" Constance cried upon seeing her brother. Her face glowed in elation as she clapped her hands.

William Tavington's sister? Curse the powers and their capricious nature! The entourage of lusting men ambled away, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

"Oh, my dearest Kitty! How healthy and beautiful you are since I saw you last!" Tavington carefully aided her down from her horse and ordered a nearby troop to take the horse. The colonel kissed her. Many of the remaining soldiers now crowded around to see this new spectacle. To see such a beautiful woman, and a jovial pair of Tavingtons was beyond shocking. They stared adoringly at Constance Tavington as the brother exchanged greeting. The dragoons in the congregation hoped the new amiability in their leader would outlast the visit of the sister.

Brother and sister entered the tent, the latter clinging to her sibling's arm. They continued to chatter about this and that, ignoring poor Captain Bordon standing faithfully at the desk. When the quiet man shifted, only then did Tavington acknowledge his shy subaltern.

The captain studied Constance briefly in wonder, hoping his eyes were no larger than usual. He looked to Tavington to avert the conversation back to the planning it had previously been; praying the blush he felt was not openly evident.

"Captain," William said instead, "if I may introduce? This is my sister, Constance Tavington."

Bordon stepped forward. "How do you do, Miss?" And to court favor with both, he bowed low and kissed the lady's hand.

"Kitty, this is Captain John Bordon," the colonel continued.

Constance curtsied gracefully to her unrecognizing friend. "Captain Bordon, my dear brother, though sparse in his communications, has told me of you. I pray you will prove to be more civilized company than that tall dark-haired fellow outside of the mess tent."

Bordon nodded, speaking softly and somewhat haltingly: "Yes -- most definitely, Miss Tavington. That...that must have been, ah, Wilkins. We have been having, uh, problems with him. He is a belligerent sort."

"Indeed," Constance smiled. "Have you made the acquaintance of my, erm, cousin, Joseph Carleton?"

"It may please the lady to know that I am his only friend," the captain answered sheepishly, flushed to the ears.

"Oh, how awful! Surely you jest, sir."

"Your cousin is generally misliked for some unnamed flaw, but he often sets them straight."

Constance straightened proudly. "Very well then, Captain Bordon. Perhaps, in your kindness, you may number me as one of your friends."

Bordon bowed to her again, something of a smile upon his face. "It would be a great honor, Miss Tavington."

William watched with interest, smirking at the obvious discomfort of his underling in the presence of such a lovely young woman as Constance. The enamored captain fumbled to keep his eyes from lingering too long on any part of her fair form. The color in his cheeks grew more evident by the second.

"Dearest Will, I think I will venture out and orient myself. I will return later, for surely you must be busy."

"Kitty, the men may -- " Tavington protested.

"Fine confidence you have in your sister, the one whose aim was always better than your own." A cocky grin lit her eyes as she studied her brother's severe face.

"Captain Bordon, accompany my sister and entertain her." The colonel shot his underling a 'your life depends on this' glance that thinly masked his amusement at the bewildered stare he received from Bordon. The sister looked to Bordon with a cheery smile. Captain Bordon offered his arm and escorted her outside. For some time he was silent, forcing Constance to prod him for conversation.

Constance frowned, effecting a little more effort from Bordon. After all, Colonel Tavington had given him a rather threatening glare and that was not something Bordon wished to test.

"Um, Miss Tavington, do you like...music?" he mumbled, averting shyly his eyes from her.

"Very much so!" she chirped. "I can play all the stringed instruments quite satisfactorily, though I primarily play the violin. Will does not believe it proper to have a cello or viol de gamba cradled between my knees, so should my music call for a cello, I have him play. Once or twice I've played a continuo part on the contrabass, as there was no available harpsichord. And you, Captain?"

"I enjoy listening to it when I can, but I do not play."

Constance nodded. "Will plays Bach cello suites beautifully, but I doubt he would oblige your request to hear him play. Perhaps I will play something for you on a later visit?"

"I would much like that."

"I only pray you have no preference for Mozart."

Somewhat surprised, Bordon scrutinized her. Mozart was a rather estimable young composer, though still no where near as popular as Salieri in the Viennese circles. "What do you mean?"

"Mozart's melodies, to my ear, are the same tinny tune over and over. He seems to have the tendency to "reuse" his music so that what he writes now sounds awfully similar to something he wrote two years ago."

"And what does the lady prefer?"

"Telemann, Corelli, Bach, Heinichin. Boccherini is a current favorite of mine. Haydn's music is similar to Mozart's, but I feel it has far more variety."

Bordon smiled. "In some sense, the lady is behind in fashion."

"I may assault my feet and waist with the cruel contrivance of 'fashion' if it means I do my feminine duty and land a husband," she said dryly, taking on the taut manner of her brother. "But I refuse to assault my mind, a far more permanent thing than my features, with worthless and boring music, books or other 'fashionable' things. I am accomplished, but I do not go about them mindlessly. I may only have so many opinions allotted to me as a female, and I had better be belligerent about those."

"Well said," Bordon murmured. He was getting to like this little woman. She was definitely not of the normal mold, but at least she was interesting enough.

Wilkins noticed them and hailed his fellow captain.

"Here's one you need to be mindless to understand, Miss Tavington," Bordon whispered to her. Constance giggled and followed the approach of Wilkins with her eyes.

"Hello, Captain Bordon, sir," Wilkins said with a pompous bow. "My, my sir, what lovely lady is this you've got at your arm."

"This is Miss Constance Tavington, Captain Wilkins. She is the colonel's sister." Constance gave a reserved curtsey, fearing that if she dip her body too far forward, Wilkins would see far more than he deserved.

"Jim Wilkins, miss," the tall captain said with another bow.

"I never knew we were at such informalities, Captain Wilkins."

"Well, miss, you may call me what you wish."

A devilish smirk settled onto her visage. "How kind of you to give me such leave, sir." She nodded to him with a most charming smile. "Now, if you will excuse Captain Bordon and me, we were on a stroll of the encampment. Good day."

Wilkins tried for elegance and made his most impressive bow. The effect was a stifled giggle from the woman at his gracelessness and awkward speech. He stared after Constance as she walked off with Captain Bordon.

Out of earshot, Constance leaned into Bordon's shoulder for confidentiality. "He's a captain too?"

Mournfully, Bordon nodded. "A real boon to our corps," he answered cynically.

"He tries too hard to impress. I think I would pity him more than I would esteem him."

"Your brother despises him. Captain Wilkins is not a fellow to be trusted. He has already betrayed his closest friends--once a turn coat, always a turn coat."

"Aye, though from looking at the fellow, you would assume he's in for his own personal gain."

"Sadly, yes, though he often doesn't seem to have to brains to come up with such a plan." Bordon sighed and gazed softly at her. "You had better watch out for him, Miss Tavington. He's a big man."

"Indeed, but a real shit-wit." Constance chuckled wryly.

The captain, though initially taken aback by her profanity, burst into a convulsive fit of laughter. "Well said again, Miss Tavington!"

Tavington seated his sister across from him. His desk had been hastily cleared to perform the offices of a dinner table. The colonel smiled at Constance before setting the places.

"I'm sorry it is nothing reminiscent of our old dinner parties, dear, but as you see, no one is rolling in the lap of luxury right now."

His sister nodded with perfect understanding. "No matter, brother. I am thankful for anything and everything."

"Then you shall get along just fine, though if I take you to the fort, that pretty face of yours may get us invitations to dine with the generals."

Constance 'hmphed' over her wine. "Thank you, Will. So good to know I am whoring myself for dinner invites now. What a sad state I'm in...."

A smile quirked the right side of his face. "You are worse than when I last saw you." Tavington served her a piece of some sort of foul rubbed with herbs, along with potatoes and some stringy beans that no one would have dared touch had they not been under the great privation induced by war time. He sat and stared quizzically at his sister as she stretched her hands out to him.

"Grace, brother?"

"Oh..." he said. "Yeah...."

Narrowing her eyes, she grabbed his hands. "You say Grace."

William bowed his head obediently and mumbled a prayer, making doubly sure to accent the 'Amen' in hopes his sister would brush off his lack of faith. Constance shook her head at him.

"Oh, William! You have not been saying Grace...probably not even your prayers? My, my, my...." She shook her head disapprovingly.

"All right, enough, Mum."

"Bunny's going to Hell," she sat back in her chair with a heavy sigh.

William snorted and began to eat. Constance watched him with a frown before setting quietly in on her vegetables. They dined in silence. The brassy glow of the firelight made a cheery attempt at giving a sense of comfort, but it failed. There was just something wrong between them.

Bordon burst in and bowed to them. "Sir, we have a new member."

Constance turned and smiled at her friend. He returned her smile and a coy little wave before snapping back to attention before the colonel.

"Bring him in," Tavington said irately, dropping his utensils to the plate. Bordon turned and ushered in a young man of no great height. The man made a ludicrously ceremonious bow, and Tavington 'hmphed' and threw his napkin into his lap.

"I am Lieutenant Tobias Fife, formerly of the Loya--"

"Damn it all, Bordon! What is your fixation with Loyalists? If this man turns out to be another Wilkins, I will have your head!" The colonel got to his feet and drew himself up to a height the seemed to soar over Fife's head. The lieutenant looked up at him with sparkling deep amber eyes and a broad grin.

"William!" Constance hissed. "Have you no manners?"

Tavington ignored her. Lieutenant Fife chuckled. "I've heard of this Wilkins fellow. And very well, you may have my head as well if I am anything like him, but please give my heart to this lady to keep if you have a tender bone in your body, sir." He bowed to Constance and tickled her fingertips. "She is your sister, sir?"

"Yes, and what of it?" Tavington grumbled.

"Well, sir, with your reputation and the illustrious appearance of your sister, you both must do an immense honor to your family."

The colonel was a little strained. "Perhaps."

"Forgive us, then, sir and miss, for intruding on your supper. The captain and I will take our leave with our most humble apologies." Fife bowed again and started backing toward the exit. He bumped into Bordon. The captain jumped and toppled into Constance's lap.

She laughed and embraced poor Captain Bordon for the horrified look burning on his face in the form of a blush. He took hold of her hand as he got up to steady himself, but quickly relinquished it in fear.

"Lieutenant Fife," Constance chirped, "I would like it very much if you, and you as well Captain Bordon, would join my brother and me for a few hands of cards." She beamed sweetly, then shot her brother a glare as malicious as the one he sent her.

"It would be a pleasure, Miss Tavington." Fife nodded with a stunning smile that brought an amiable glow to his features. Bordon bowed and exited warily, so as to avoid another fall into the arms of Constance.

"He seems to be an excellent young man," she chirred, tucking into her food.

"Good, and if he's an excellent young man, maybe I can pawn you off in marriage to him," Tavington glowered. His sister gasped.

"Am I that much of a burden to you?"

He began to back pedal. "Constance, Kitty, dearie: you are six-and-twenty, beautiful, talented, and unmarried. You, my dear, are a walking paradox! Oh, come, he's probably the best you can get around here. With the way he struts about, he was probably a lawyer or maybe even a doctor, of some well-to-do family from Charleston. Unless...unless you'd rather have Bordon. Choose which you would prefer--life of decadence or the life of a farmer. I am only trying to help you, Constance. I want the best for my beloved baby sister, and why can't that be through seeing her through to a fine marriage? He seemed to be quite taken with you."

"Yah, providing for the best by selling me off. Perhaps if I were bovine! William, admit it! I am a pest to you. You have got your esteem and honor going for you and to have me in the picture, socializing with the common soldiery, also known as Bordon in your eyes, I ruin it for you. Fine, I shall go change back into my cavalry clothes and do what I promised I would do--watch out for you!" She rose up abruptly, felling her chair. She flung her napkin at him. Constance stormed out into the night.

Constance was gloomy riding "home." She had left all her feminine attire and Roxelana at the home of a friend she had stayed with before going through with her hair brained guardian plan. The lady of the house had playfully jibed Constance, telling her what a handsome man she was. Constance did have to admit that she cut a rather dashing figure in the uniform of the Green Dragoons....

She rode back to camp on an onyx black stallion, Hermes. The temptation to leave him with all her other things was strong, as every dragoon had whispered claims on the horse should Joseph Carleton ever be killed. The stallion was tall and well built for speed and agility. Tavington even had his eyes on the horse and had been considering passing some sort of rule that would bring Hermes into his own possession. Until he had learned that the owner was his sister. Constance knew all of this and it only caused her to seethe more.

Who in Hell did he think he was, trying to auction her off like a head of livestock? At six-and-twenty years of age, she could very well decide whom she wished to favor. Her brother need not take on the offices of her father. William's authority, in the terms of their relationship, ended at the superiority of his age. And that was all. He could not condemn her, disown her...force her to marry some fop. Except now, things were more complicated. He was her commanding officer.

But ha! She thought. I have the power of his life in my hands. If I were cruel, I would not defend him in a battle...but I'm not cruel or mean or at least I don't aim to be. Oh, spite! Hang it all.

And so, Constance rode on, stewing about the injustices of the world and stupid older brothers.

The dragoons rode out early the next morning. William nodded to his sister as he trotted by to the head of the group. He was glad she had returned. For a while, he had worried about where she was, as Constance was one not given to caring much about properly informing people of her leaving.

She did not cast a glance in his direction.

"Ah, Joseph! You're back," Bordon smiled as he cantered alongside his friend.

She nodded.

"Beware Wilkins today. The colonel is a bit down after his sister left last night, so it's likely Wilkins will the get the brunt of his rage if he so much as speaks."

Constance nodded again in thanks. "His sister was here? I had no idea he had a sister. The colonel seems much like an only child."

"Oh yes, he does." Whether or not he was responding to the question of there being a sister or Tavington's sulking, it was not clear. "At risk of sounding odd, the colonel is a fairly attractive man. His sister is astonishingly beautiful. You did not see her?"

"No. I was carrying papers for the colonel."

"Ah. But Joseph, she was so lovely and fun -- she had a wit to her, sometimes dangerously sharp. But Miss Tavington lavished me with much of her attention...." His voice had become wistful and yearning. "It is a pity she left so abruptly."

"Indeed," she answered, smiling inwardly. "So you've taken a liking to her, John?"

Bordon colored in response. "Yes, but I fear no one can top the new lieutenant. He saw her but once last night, hardly spoke to her, but proclaims he will die without her love, for she is a goddess, &c. My poor cousin."

"'Poor cousin?' You brought family into this fray?"

"He's a cousin several times removed only after being related by marriage in the first place. How surprised he was to see me."

"I pity Miss Tavington, then. If I recall "The Knight's Tale" correctly, she is going to be slighted the one who deserves her.... So, who are you, John? Arcite or Palamon?"

A call from the colonel at the head of the galloping column prompted Bordon to leave his friend's side. But, as he rode off, he said gravely: "Palamon, I pray."

Constance could only wonder.

The day was, for the most part, dull and uneventful. Nothing happened as they ranged about, guarding the supply lines. A few whistled, carefree, as they trotted through a field of cotton. The white bolls were dislodged in the wind and tickled across Constance's cheek as they floated upward. Things were shockingly peaceful.

A cry rose up from the men toward the front. Some dismounted. Still more turned away in disgust.

Several soldiers of the King's Army had been slaughtered and lay at odd angles after their murderers had searched the corpses. Some had been hacked at with some sort of blade, probably having been still alive and fighting. All the corpses had been looted -- guns, swords, even buttons, buckles, and any other bit that could be sold for any sort of gain.

Constance slid from the saddle. She found a young officer slit from breast to belly. One hand had been clenched over his stomach in efforts to hold in his entrails, while the other hand held a little white handkerchief. There were superficial wounds in his arm and leg.

He had been waving that handkerchief for quarter. Some militiaman had murdered the surrendering man out of pure malice.

Tavington rode to her side, stone faced. "Ride back to camp and get assistance for bringing these poor boys back." His eyes wandered to the dead officer, and the colonel shook his head.

"All right." Constance mounted and watched her brother a moment. William pinched his eyes closed.

He muttered: "I am sorry." To whom it was addressed, to her or the dead officer, Constance knew not. As she was about to leave, she heard him released a choked sob.

"Sir?" she said softly, then even softer still: "Brother?"

"I-I knew him well. A good number of these men the yokels murder have been my friends -- whatever you have ever heard of my reputation, take into consideration my injuries.... God, Constance, I hate this so much. I strain myself for the advancement of a man wallowing in too much glory to go do his own dirty work. And for it, he chides me more, never content with it."

Constance sighed. She wished to take his hand but could only bring herself to say: "I know, William, I know." And she heeled into Hermes, charging back for camp. With as angered as she had been with him, and as seemingly cruel as he could be, there was certainly a heart beating within his breast. Some how, she understood, and she forgave him.

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