(A/N): I know none of you want excuses for the very long wait between this chapter and the last, but do know that it was a mix of not being able write, laziness, and deciding between a few directions the story could take to come to my ultimate goal which is already sorted out. Apologies for the wait, hope you enjoy it!

sancti

Chapter 6:

What have I done?

Sigh.

What have I done…

Ansley stared at a particularly interesting spot on her rug as she asked herself again why she'd let the colonel kiss her. Why she returned the kiss. Why she let him touch her. Fortunately, they both seemed to have enough sense and the passion was soon over with neither going too far. But was such a thing forgivable? Ansley didn't want to imagine what Wesley's reaction would be if he knew. She shuddered at the very thought.

Moistening her dry lips, Ansley looked away from the floor, the constant gaze causing her eyes to double her vision. Taking in a shaky breath, she looked herself over and cringed. Her dress was filthy. Sand had gotten into the most troublesome places, the hem of her dress was smeared with dirt and torn from the forest ground. It smelled like a horse. And a few of the ties on her bodice were broken as well. Ansley closed her eyes at the clear memory when Will had eased her to the sandy ground and she felt his hand travel to where he was not welcome.

"No." She gasped.

Tavington stopped immediately, though some of the ties of her bodice were already broken away. He was over her, and for the first time, saw how clearly uncomfortable she was. She was frightened. Tavington pulled himself away from her and sat, disappointed, in the sand. The girl slowly sat back up, smoothing her dress over with her hands.

"I'm sorry." She said finally.

Tavington glanced over and gave a ghost of a smile. "You're not ready, my dear. I understand."

"Itit's just not the right time." The girl explained with a hint of embarrassment.

Not only that, but Ansley had to remember one extremely important aspect in her life right nowshe was engaged. Albeit to a man she wanted nothing to do with, but that was not her choice to be made. She could not consciously bring shame to her family and the mere thought of her relations disowning her filled her with fright. Where would she go? Who would she become? It was all happening so incredibly fast and she couldn't stop the tears caused by her emotional whirlwind. So she took a deep breath, trying to look at her situation rationally. It was a kiss. It could have been more, but it wasn't. No one knew. No one suspected. If she broke it off now, she'd never have to think about it ever again.

That was the decision then. But Ansley felt something pull at her heart. And she realized that she truly liked that man. She liked how he'd held her when they kissed, how his hand caressed the small of her back, his other firmly on her neck. The way he kissed was something she'd never experienced. Passionate, yes, but not forceful, yet not gentle either. Perfect. It was perfect, and she felt safe. Safe until her natural instincts had gotten overly excited and she knew that it had to stop. Ansley felt a shiver ripple over her form as she remember every detail of the scene.

The grandfather clock tolled three, the noise echoing through the dark, empty halls. Sitting in her bedroom and unable to even fathom sleep, Ansley sighed, standing from the chair to change. She'd have to burn this dress though. Winnie had gotten a fire going before Ansley had excused her for the night so she could go meet the colonel. But by now, the fire was nearly spent and it took some time for Ansley to get it going again. Once she did, she removed the dress and cut it into pieces with her scissors usually reserved for sewing. Once that was done, she burnt each piece. Kneeling on the floor in her thin nightgown, Ansley watched the flames lick the fabric into ashes.
-
Her decision was final. There was no way she'd take "no" for an answer. Ansley simply had to speak with the colonel and break apart their fragile—relationship? Could a four-day fling even qualify as a relationship? Well, no doubt about it, whatever they had certainly would've turned into something. And Ansley simply couldn't allow it.
The officers' bedchambers were not far from her own, as they were all guestrooms. But she didn't have to walk far in her search, when Ansley recognized that small girl of about twelve who'd given her the Colonel's note a few days before. Ansley stopped the wide-eyed little thing and asked of the Colonel's whereabouts.

"Why, miss, the Colonel's gone!" The girl had a disheveled mop of brown hair on her pretty head and her almond shaped, stone gray eyes were of considerable size.

"What do you mean he's left?"

"His furlough's over. He set out early this morning to rejoin his Green Dragoons at camp!"

Ansley felt a churning in her stomach. Was it hurt? No, it couldn't be. She couldn't possibly be hurt by the idea that she meant nothing to that man and he left without a proper goodbye and had no qualms about it. Such a thing couldn't possibly vex her! Whatever pain had sharpened in her heart quickly dissipated as Ansley realized that all the worries she'd had about Tavington becoming attached to her were futile. How could she think that she actually meant something to him? What a silly, preposterous idea.

"Oh, miss, that does remind me though," the servant said suddenly, delving into the pockets on her apron, "Before he left, Colonel Tavington asked me to give you this!"

The girl handed her an envelope, which Ansley took tentatively. "Is there anything I can get you, miss?"

Ansley stared at the paper in her hands, with her name in the colonel's handwriting writing adorned on it. She shook her head and waved the girl away. "No, carry on." With a curtsy, the girl then slipped away in a flutter of dark curls.

It was not even breakfast yet, so Ansley had time to return to her room. She locked the door behind her, lest Winnie burst in uninvited, as this wasn't unusual. Then moving to her vanity, the young woman sat down heavily in the chair, the envelope held out in front of her. She stared at it, terrified of the contents. Then working slowly, she turned the envelope around, breaking the red wax that sealed it. Taking out the letter, she gently unfolded it, gasping at its length, then began to read.

Ansley,

If you're reading this, you've probably learned of my departure already. I apologize for not giving you further notice, nor a proper farewell. I'm not very skilled at saying goodbye. But I write this now because I would hate for us to depart without understanding our circumstances. I thoroughly enjoy your company and though you are promised to another man, whom I don't think I need to mention that you despise, I will continue to call on you. Before you fret now, you must remember that this can be done in secret. It is common enough of his Lordship to summon me, so I should hope to take advantage of those times to see you. And that servant girl, Celeste, is a loyal and trustworthy little poppet, and you needn't worry about her spreading rumors.

But I'm straying from the point. I'm very fond of you, Miss Parrish and to date, you are the one woman I feel I shouldn't coerce. Yes, I admit there have been a handful of camp followers, those wretched women who'd do anything for a cot and a tent, as well as a man.

But truly, the last time I felt this way about a womanwell, it's been a good many years. I'm not an easy man to get along with, though. On the contrary. What you saw was a man free of worry and anger. Now that I have my old obligations to tend to, I'm afraid the next time you meet me, I won't be as good a company. But, for you, I will try to be more agreeable and genteel.

On a final note, I must tell you how we can communicate between my visits. That is, if you even wish to write me. If you do, always, and I stress this, always give your letters to Celeste. We cannot risk these going through regular mail and Celeste knows how to place the letters into the more furtive line of military mail. I also must ask you to be discreet in your letters. I've only been so open in this, because I knew this letter would pass between only me, Celeste and you. So I beg of you to be careful in what you write.

Finally, I will consider this my proper farewell. In the days to come, I will pray to hear from you. There is no warmth here in this cold, dreary camp and even less so on the battlefield. But imagining your lovely face in the moonlight gives me a odd sense of warmth, which I will cherish.

Until our next meeting,

-William

Ansley read the letter again. And again. She tried to understand the words, decipher their meanings, search for a concealed message that really meant, "You're a nice girl, but I'm not a man who likes commitment." But she could find no traces of it. He truly liked her.
-
Wesley was bedridden. A cold of a sorts with a fever. This didn't shock Ansley and if anything, it was a hidden blessing. She thought about dodging Mrs. Middleton and her trio of powdered wigs and perfume, but the look in Winnie's face when she suggested this made her think otherwise. Wesley may have been ill, but his very veins flowed with poison and Ansley wouldn't take the chance of his finding out she shirked her "female duty" again. At least not for a while. So Ansley swallowed her pride and, grumbling all the way, awaited the time in which she'd have to join those gossiping dunces.

"And I must say, really, silk is such a classic material I could never present myself in cotton." The woman was about twenty years Ansley's senior and looked every bit of it. The myriad of lines in her drawn, aged face were so visible, one could almost think it was a map. There was one particular wrinkle that connected with another and Ansley mused how it mildly took the shape of France.

Taking a sip of her tea, Ansley cringed at the woman next to her, a bubbly woman in her thirties with a wide girth to match her loud voice. Obviously no one had taught her (or gave up trying) that it was rude to speak above a gentle tone. "I do say, Audrey, though I agree silk is classic, it is a tad overused, no? Every ball you will attend, you'll see every woman adorned in the shiny matter!"

"But does that not mean we all simply have wonderful taste?" The youngest and most meek of Mrs. Middleton's friends piped in, her extremely fluttery and high voice barely audible. She was a pretty little thing, a tad older than Ansley, and she barely spoke.

Mrs. Middleton bobbed her head one too many times in agreement. "I concur. There is nothing wrong with everyone having good taste, do you agree, Angelica?"

Not paying a pennyweight of attention to the subject being discussed, Ansley whipped her head up at the sound of her name. Four pairs of beady dark eyes were fixed on her, waiting for the appropriate answer. Not exactly sure as to what she was agreeing with, Ansley nodded her head anyway. "Yes, of course."

Satisfied, the ladies went back to whatever they found interesting to speak of. Retreating back into her mind, Ansley ignored them and thought of what she could be doing instead of wasting away on the broad patio, practically feeling the back of her neck charring in the afternoon sun. Since she was the only one in the yellow orb's destructive ray, the others were perfectly content and quite used to the warmer climate. Attempting to think of all other things save her discomfort, Ansley almost missed a topic most interesting.

"—and he always has such a cold demeanor, that Colonel. Has only the slightest sense of propriety."

Ansley looked down into her teacup and saw the watery substance quiver. Realizing her hands were shaking, she quickly, without it being noticeable, placed the cup back on the saucer and rested her unsteady hands in her lap.

Audrey, the wrinkled one, nodded her head, her large earrings jingling loudly. "I do agree, not a genteel man in the slightest."

"But you would say he is handsome." The young one, Beatrice, said with a blush.

Mrs. Middleton dismissed that remark with a wave of her hand. "Evil is beautiful, dear Beatrice. That is what makes it so tempting."

The loud, large woman, Sarah, spoke next. "And that Colonel Tavington has the Devil himself at his shoulder, I'm sure of it. Now, I will not be the last to admit that these rebels are a bunch of scoundrels, but truly, if officers do not act as gentleman…" She let the sentence hang in the air, as everyone knew what she meant.

Ansley meanwhile, had gone pale as the moon in that last minute. No one seemed to notice and continued with their assault against the Dragoon leader.

"And the rumors are simply awful about that man," Audrey put in, her wrinkles creasing, "but I find I do not even have to listen to the rumors to see the evil in him. You just take one look into his eyes and they tell you tomes about his character."

"Truly," Beatrice said, her small burst of confidence lashing out, "why the last ball I attended, he was there and did not take those eyes off me! I felt the strangest emotion that I cannot even describe because of the way he looked at me!"

Though her anger had reached a breaching point, Ansley knew in a moment what the naïve girl had felt. It was a deep throbbing within, almost a painful throb that was constant. Ansley grew to identify it as lust. This girl simply didn't know how to label it and knew less about why she felt that primal, natural instinct.

Sarah made a raspy cackle at the girl's comment, as she obviously knew what it was as well. Audrey and Mrs. Middleton merely blushed and concentrated on the lemon slice floating in their teacups.

But not a second more passed before Mrs. Middleton said something that nearly made Ansley reach across the table and strangle her. "Well, pardon me for being harsh, but besides gawking at young, naïve girls," she said, gesturing to Beatrice who frowned, "he also has an eye for the wenches," she said in a whisper, "According to Oliver, the valet I assigned to the colonel, he spent his furlough running about with some whore! Oliver saw him with some woman on several occasions," she then lowered her voice, her sparkling blue eyes widening considerably, "in the woods!"

Every woman at the table, save for Ansley, gasped and had some sort of exclamation. "The woods, what a savage!"

"I told you the Devil was at his shoulder!

"Such evil in such a handsome man!"

"What is wrong with you all?" Ansley snapped.

Everyone whipped their heads to the girl, confusion plain on their features. Not thinking about the consequences, Ansley went on with her rampage.

"You all sit around here slicing the man to ribbons when you know not a thing about him! You condemn him because of rumors! Rumors! Just gossips you are, the whole lot of you! And I won't have any part in it!" With that, Ansley whipped the silk napkin from her lap and tossed it onto the table before pushing out of her chair and storming away, the heat of her anger creeping up her arms.
-
Ansley twiddled her thumbs nervously, her heart skipping a beat whenever the sound of footsteps passed the large doors of the lord general's office. Not long after she'd berated Mrs. Middleton and her friends, Ansley had been called upon by Cornwallis. It would mark only twice that Ansley had been asked to his office. The previous time she was with Wesley and it'd merely been introductions and Wesley's chance to exhibit her. Now she was alone.

Ansley had a faint idea that the visit was because of her behavior towards the women, but she wasn't so sure. Lord General Cornwallis wouldn't waste time on such matters. Instead of fathoming wild theories, Ansley cleared her mind and waited. But after ten minutes, she began to feel restless. Did the old man forget about her? Frustrated and annoyed, she straightened her spine to stand when she heard footsteps clack towards the door as it was opened by a valet. Cornwallis stepped in with a forced smile, nodding his head to Ansley as she rose evenly out of her chair and curtsied. Coming to her, Cornwallis took her proffered hand and kissed it lightly before gesturing that she sit. The older man sat comfortably in his grand chair behind his desk, leaning forward and crossing his hands over the polished wood.

"How are you this afternoon, Miss Parrish?" He asked cordially.

Just get on with it, old man! Ansley instead answered with a cool smile followed by an inquiry as to how he slept. After such tiring pleasantries were made, the general started in.

"Miss Parrish," he began calmly, "I hate to keep you, so I'll make this brief," which really meant he was busy and wanted to be done with her as soon as possible, "I am a man that greatly treasures his family and their well-being…as well as those who marry into my family," he added thoughtfully, "and I find you to be a most wonderful young woman and my nephew seems quite happy with the arrangement…"

Ansley drew her face into a frown, trying her greatest to look genuinely confused as to why the general called her here. It seemed to work. Cornwallis almost looked guilty that he was even discussing this with her.

"But my nephew is also a very observant man, and while I'm not one to intervene, after listening to Wesley's recent complaints, I felt it my duty to speak with you."

Ansley made no expression, but inside, she was seething. Wesley went to his uncle to complain about her? Why the gutless, cowardly, insolent basta—

"Now don't think otherwise, I regard you as a surprisingly erudite, lovely woman, but I also care a great deal for my family, as I've said."

"Milord, exactly what have I done that my fiancé has found so disagreeable?"

For a fleeting moment, Ansley frightfully wondered if the man somehow knew of her relationship with the colonel. Cornwallis took a breath, hesitating in his answer. Leaning back in his chair, the general tried to explain the delicate situation.

"He claims you are distant, difficult to get along with or please. Now I am quite aware that this was an arranged marriage, but goodness, it's been a year! The two of you are still incompatible?"

Ansley couldn't say anything. She came from a society that valued love second to a good match. For Wesley's advantage, the Parrishes weren't so much a popular name, but were independently wealthy, thanks to Ansley's grandfather. For the Parrishes' benefit, Wesley's relations were esteemed and highly thought of, not to mention rich. It was the perfect matchpolitically. As for that next equally important, yet often disregarded level, love was something only the few were lucky enough to possess. Ansley saw no love in her future life with Wesley, and they both knew so much. But again, it was not a part of the equation. Ansley's duty was to make her future husband happy (or at least have everyone believe he was), give him children, and to forever obey his whims until death. It was a grim outlook of the future and Ansley tried with all her might every day not to think about it.

Finally finding her voice, Ansley surprised herself with her answer. "Milord, if I were to spend a million years with your nephew, I still would not become…compatible with him."

His eyes bulged a little and Ansley decided to save herself from the cliff she'd just jumped off of. "But I understand my duty, milord, to serve him and to be as good a wife I can be to him. But that does not mean I will overly enjoy it."

To Ansley's surprise, Cornwallis smiled. Did she really fool him? Straightening his crisp, military jacket, he stood, as did Ansley. "Well, that is certainly good enough for me, Miss Parrish."
-
"Your uncle must care for you greatly," Ansley said, her tone deadpan as she worked the needle through the tight thread.

Wesley sneezed, mumbling something before he took his handkerchief and blew into it loudly. He wiped his nose roughly before answering. "I am his favorite nephew, don't forget," He reminded her, his voice more nasal than usual on account of his illness, "Pray tell, what did he say to you, anyway?"

Ansley halted her sewing, a passing thought of plunging the needle into Wesley's eye putting a ghost of a grin on her features. "Enough to know we need to talk."

Wesley snorted, a rather revolting sound considering his cold. "Isn't that ironic? Could it truly be that the stubborn Angelica Parrish actually wants to have a civilized discussion with her fiancé? Good Lord, I should say this will make the papers!"

Ansley gave him a derogatory glare. "I don't appreciate your satire, Wesley."

"Apologies, my dear," he said cheerfully as he straightened his spine against the pillows that propped him up in his bed, "but you must excuse my shock. You've been nothing less than a holy terror since we've left England."

Ansley ignored the comment. "Do you want to marry me, Wesley?"

The question didn't throw the man off guard, nor seem to surprise him. He folded his handkerchief into another square, then blew his nose into it. "No, Angelica. In fact if I had such a choice, I'd elope with that charming dunce of a girl that I met at the ball."

Ansley's expression dropped a few degrees, his reply certainly not what she expected. Wesley scoffed.

"My dear girl, do not tell me you're actually disappointed by my answer? What makes you think I had any wish to marry you? You are much too headstrong. You see, I need a woman with a head full of air, that's simply how they should come," he said casually, "but, as I said, neither of us have any choice in the matter, and I must content myself with you. Seeing as I have no wish to anger my father, I am going to wed you and you are going to satisfy my parents with grandchildren."

Ansley wasn't sure how to answer. Should she be insulted? Saddened? Completely ecstatic that she wasn't the only one living a nightmare? Apparently, in Wesley's eyes, she appeared as though she was going to cry.

"Don't upset yourself, Angelica," the man advised sharply, giving her a once-over with a reproachful gaze, "I am sure there is a man out there somewhere who would not mind dealing with you and could possibly even love you." Ansley could hear the force it took for him to give such a weak compliment.

"I am not upset," she declared, "only completely distraught over the fact that neither of us want each other, yet we're stuck together for the rest of our lives."

"An unfortunate predicament indeed," Wesley lamented, nodding his head in agreement, "But as I've said in the past, and I will say again, for our parents' sake, we will try to appear happy and satisfied."

"And what of our sakes?" Ansley countered. When Wesley narrowed his eyes in confusion, she continued, "Wesley, though others may think we are content with our lives, we will live in misery. What will that do to us? What will it do to our children?"

Raising an eyebrow, Wesley dabbed at his nose again, sniffing loudly. "There is…one other possibility," he said hesitantly, "we could…try to get along."

Ansley remembered the lord general's word he'd used. "You mean become…compatible?"

Sighing, Wesley folded his thin arms over his chest. "It certainly would not hurt the relationship," he confessed begrudgingly, "If you are willing to try, then, I will also."

This was an entirely new concept. Try to get along with Wesley? Such a thing she hadn't even fathomed. Her thoughts strayed to Tavington suddenly. Remembering her vow to break it off with him, she pushed his face from her mind. This was reality. She could not have Tavington, and he could not have her. Ansley was aware of his letter folded neatly in the pocket under he skirt. The next time she was alone, she'd burn it.

"Well, are you willing?" Wesley said suddenly.

Nearly pricking herself with the needle, Ansley put the embroidery aside. Speaking honestly, she replied. "Yes…I am willing."

-

(A/N) Aye, yi, yi. Heartbreak ensues! I'm hoping the next chapter won't take nearly as long as it did to write this one. This chapter was pretty important, as it's going to set off a series of very important events. Thanks for reading!

Jeangray666: LoL, aw, don't feel betrayed. This is Tavington we're talking about, he'll come back to you eventually:D. Thanks bunches for reading!

Dude-monkey: (slaps forehead) I didn't even think about the sun thing. Wow. Thank you for pointing it out, though, if I ever do a scene like that again in a different story, I'll make sure it's in California or something', lol. Thank you muchly for reading and reviewing!

Tigerchild: Yes, "action" is always fun, lol. I admit though, I'm really not used to writing, ahem, "action" so please tell me if something sounds, you know, off, or inaccurate the next time :). Thank you bunches for reading!

FreakinIdiot06: Yeah, I figured I'd give the guy a chance. But it's not going to be pure fluff throughout the whole story, he's still a rough and tough soldier and I want everyone to realize that he's not always such a nice guy! Thank you muchly for reading and reviewing!

The Kitten: cringe Wow, I can actually hear you screaming all that, lol. Well, I guess you're going to just hafta keep reading to see what my muse conjures up. Buahahahaha! Ah, don't worry, someday your prince will come, er, prince of darkness, or whatever :D. Thanks for reading, Katie :).

Corri: I dunno if you got up to this point, but if you did, then here's your review response! First, thanks! I love graveyards in general and a scene with Tavy's fiancée and Martin has been floating around my head for sooo long, and I thought it appropriate amongst graves. Thank you so much, though I find Martin reeeally difficult to write and I'm still not completely satisfied with the end result, but it will do for now. Thank you again for reading!

Erik's Siren: Yay! I'm glad you didn't pass it up! I don't particularly like the first few chapters, I look back and cringe at some parts, so I'm quite happy you continued to read! Oh, I know, Wesley is quite dumb, but necessary, especially later on in the story. LXG? Nope, I haven't seen it. But the scene definitely sounds appropriate for Wesley, lol. Oh, I know, Tavy is delicious. I liked Gabriel first when I saw the movie, then my weird liking for bad boys moved my attention to Tavy, hehe. But I certainly did not like Gabriel dying. Maybe severely hurt, but DEAD? I thought that was mean of the writers sniff. Thank you so much for reading! Oooh, well, you're the first to have claim of the sexy guard, so go ahead, knock yourself out:D. Thank you!