The Butcher's Daughter

Chapter 10

William only pretended that he didn't condone the rivalry between Mabel and Bordon. He'd shush them occasionally, when their butting heads meant a loss of focus in routine training or combat; but seeing conflict that didn't involve himself for once was an absolute treasure. Mutiny was always a concern of William's. He was terribly unpopular and not only amongst his own men. Why, his sour reputation was a regular topic of discussion for King George himself! But as long as he remained feared and above all, victorious, he was untouchable and continued to bend the rules as far as they would go.
Employing Mabel should have been the breaking point and it wasn't long before Bordon brought the issue to Cornwallis' attention. The reprimands flew, as always, right over William's head.

"If you keep the girl on," the chronically displeased Lord told William in council, "she will perish. Women are weak! It's inevitable. And her blood will be on your hands. Will you be able to live with yourself when that day comes?"

"I will, my Lord," William stated, blankly. He watched as the older man repositioned himself, uncomfortably, in his large chair. "The dragoons are my own. Mine. I am accountable for each and every one of them."

"The dragoons are a joke," Cornwallis hissed. "And you are the one who has labeled them as such. Hiring a woman?! You've been out of your damned mind from day one, Colonel. You consistently disappoint me and it's becoming clearer every day that you will never change."
"Neither will our rapport, my Lord. I provide you with flawless victories in exchange for ridicule-"
"Which you have earned!" Cornwallis interrupted. "Because, Colonel Tavington, your victories aren't flawless in the slightest. They are disorderly and grotesque."

William barely managed to shake this comment off. If there was anyone who could successfully get under his skin and undermine his confidence, it was Lord Cornwallis. He had humiliated William many times before. But since they were speaking in his private quarters, far away from the eager ears of that terrible O'Hara (to give just one example), William granted his commander a charming grin. "I get the job done, do I not?"
"By the skin of your teeth. The call is yours, but do you truly believe that you can handle the extra weight?"

"Women are weak, to use your words exactly" William pondered aloud, "and if there is anything that I have learned from years on the battlefield it is that weak soldiers are excellent buffers. The more the merrier."

"That is disgusting," his lip curled, "have you made it known to her that those are your intentions?"

"It is a bitter truth that every young recruit must come to terms with. But a lamb usually learns that it has been led to slaughter towards the end. My conscience is clear." It wasn't. For a long time thereafter, William's own words crouched behind his shoulders, ready to pounce at any minute. He had expected to dismiss Mabel that day and instead was the one to present her with her poorly tailored coat in the most unceremonial swearing in military history. She was an afterthought, a parenthesis, barely a soldier and yet, she was his responsibility. Her safety and fate were in his hands.

Mabel followed him everywhere he went, eager to impress and even more eager to learn. If she was disturbed by the carnage that she produced in combat, Mabel withheld her emotions with grace. William was open to educating her, most days, until his pursuit of the "Ghost" stole his attention away. Several days into her "employment", William noticed a new silence among his dragoons. He suspected at first that his youngest charge had faded into the crowd, just as he had asked her to do. But it didn't take long for her absence to wear on him.

"Bordon. Where the hell is Mabel?" William asked after weaving his way through the mass of weary riders. Bordon shrugged, naturally. "When did you see her last, you fool?"

"That would be... last night, Colonel." The clearly uninterested soldier droned, not even bothering to slow his horse's canter. "It's nice and quiet, too. Perhaps we can get some real work done now."