Disclaimer: I do not own characters from the film The Patriot, but I'm sure you know that already.

APPENDICES

A number of my readers have asked about the fate of my characters. Here is some appended material.

For those who wish to know more about the historical figures who appear in this story, like Cornwallis, O'Hara, Rawdon, Ferguson, Greene, Balfour, the Duc du Lauzun, etc., I recommend Marg's site, , which contains brief biographies. What is known of Polly is mentioned in Ferguson's biography.

If you check my author page, you will find the URL of the more polished, R-rated version of this story.

Appendix A: Julia Wilde

Born March 27, 1770. Died September 22, 1856.

Julia's wealth and beauty had made her much sought after by the young (and not-so-young) Nova Scotia beaux. In the fall of 1793, she traveled with her brother-in-law and sister, Sir William and Lady Tavington, to Halifax. Sir William had a meeting of the Governing Council to attend, and his family accompanied him, staying in the townhouse they had built in the colonial capital. They had a delightful time, especially Julia, who unexpectedly met the most charming young man in the world: a young officer, then- Captain Sir Henry (Harry) Marlowe, Bart. As a great author has said, "Any further definition of his merits must be unnecessary; the most charming young man in the world is instantly before the imagination of us all."

Sir Harry was actually on his way back to England, but he was pleasantly delayed by the attractions of the renowned Miss Wilde. Admitting to his friends that they had not overpraised her, he met all her standards, not even shrinking from the infamous "dog picture challenge," that had confounded all others before him. He resolutely made himself agreeable to all her family, and even emerged unscathed from an interview with her notorious brother-in-law and guardian, Sir William "The Butcher" Tavington.

As Sir Harry was his own master, and had no parents to forbid his choice of a provincial bride, the engagement followed precipitously on the first meeting, and the marriage, solemnised by Bishop Charles Inglis, followed hard on the engagement. Tears and promises of diligent correspondence followed between the sisters. Sir William broadly hinted at mayhem if his beloved sister-in-law were to be inconvenienced in any way. Words such as "I know where you live," and "You do not know what pain is," were bandied about, but otherwise the period was marked by the most affectionate and well-bred sentiments.

Though regretting the necessity of the long transatlantic voyage, young Lady Marlowe embarked with great intrepidity on her new life. Arriving at Portsmouth, she enjoyed the trip to London, the many sights of that great city, danced with unexampled stamina, and charmed the fashionable world with her outspoken wit.

After a delightful period in town, they proceeded on to Sir Harry's countryseat, Blackmallow Hall, a lovely, moated, 15th century manor house in Norfolk. Lady Marlowe took charge of the household with her customary energy, and her presence was soon considered essential at any ball, hunt, or party in the country. Lady Marlowe wrote ceaselessly to her sister, Lady Tavington, and it is unfortunate that more of this correspondence has not survived; but both ladies' descendants, true Victorians that they were, were utterly appalled at the frankness with which the sisters discussed their marital felicity. There was considerable contact between the Tavington and Marlowe households, especially prior to 1803, and the young Tavingtons used Blackmallow Hall and Marlowe House in London as their bases when in England.

Lady Marlowe bore her husband an heir and a spare without complaint (Henry, 1794 and Philip, 1796) and supported her husband's political ambitions. With the renewal of hostilities with France, it became apparent that Sir Harry felt his true calling was the army. Saddened by her sister Elizabeth's death in 1803, she sublimated her grief by accompanying her husband throughout his travails in the Peninsular War ("I can ride as hard as anybody," she declared, refusing to be left behind.); and accompanied Sir Harry and his great commander, Wellington, on many a foxhunt in Portugal and Spain in between campaigns. "She has," said the Iron Duke sagaciously, "the finest seat I ever saw on a woman." He then had to explain his meaning at length to his Duchess.

Young Harry and his brother Philip, at Eton and Cambridge for most of this period, at length donned uniforms and joined their formidable parents on campaign. Lamenting that they had missed all the excitement, they enjoyed the delights of Paris during the restoration of King Louis XVIII, and found themselves in the thick of events on the return of Napoleon from Elba.

The Waterloo campaign was in some ways the climax of Lady Marlowe's life. Though still a beautiful woman at forty-five, she could claim a husband, two sons, a nephew (Major John Wilde Tavington, see below), a niece's husband (see below), and all unknown, a nephew-in- law (see below), in the same ballroom at the Duchess of Richmond's ball (the most famous in history), and on the same battlefield in the following days.

Unlike many who fled Brussels, Lady Marlowe remained at the house she had rented. Other writers have mentioned seeing her sitting on the steps for hours at a time, listening to the distant cannonfire throughout the three terrible days. At one point, a titled gentleman, who shall remain anonymous for decency's sake, panicked, and attempted to steal her carriage horses for his flight. The fearless Lady M. pulled a pistol and is said to have severely wounded his dignity. Her ill temper, she later confided to friends, was caused by the reek of the chicken a local hotel was preparing as a victory feast for the "Emperor" Bonaparte. As rumours of a British victory circulated, she ordered her carriage, drove to the hotel, bought up much of the victuals from the disconsolate landlord, and repaired to the battlefield to find her men. Though the sights she traveled through might have put lesser men off their food, her own were safe, (only one of them wounded), happy to see her, and very grateful for a good meal.

Her later career, her great social success at the Congress of Vienna, her activities on behalf of soldiers' charities were shadowed by her beloved husband's death in 1823. "At least he lived to see that villain Bonaparte off the premises," she said, referring to Napoleon's death in 1821. Hearing that her brother-in-law, Sir William Tavington, was in failing health, she sailed to Nova Scotia, and was with him to lighten his last days in 1825.

Though delighted with her many grandchildren, Lady Marlowe was not yet ready to settle down to a life of domesticity. Feeling that she had seen too little of the world, she embarked on a grand tour: leaving Norfolk to pass through London, through Paris, and south to the Italian states. She visited Turin, Milan, Venice, Florence, Siena, Rome, Naples and the wilder parts of Sicily with unceasingly aplomb. Feeling this was all too tame, she crossed the Adriatic to Greece and thence to Constantinople, where she was a guest of the Seraglio. Her well-known remark, "What absolute rubbish polygamy is. Any man or woman of the world knows that the other way would be more satisfactory," did not convince the Sultan, but amused him nevertheless.

Feeling her trip would be for naught without a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, Lady Marlowe set out with her Turkish bodyguards to the Holy Land. From thence she crossed the Sinai on horseback, on her way to Egypt. "Like Moses and the Israelites, only in reverse and with better accommodations."

Her baggage replete with statuary, antiquities, goldwork, swords, silks, perfumes, and all manner of souvenirs, she at last returned to England in the spring of 1831, somewhat sunburnt. Legal wrangling continues between her heirs and the Uffizi Gallery in Florence about the questionable circumstances under which she acquired Caravaggio's St. Sebastian with Admiring Maidens.

Her long-awaited memoir, My Adventures on Four Continents, was published in (curiously) three volumes in 1840. Brushing aside complaints at the long delay, Lady Marlowe said, "It is awkward to write about life, when one is actually living it."

Her later years were full of equal excitement. A great favourite of the young Queen Victoria, Lady Marlowe enjoyed the pleasures of the Court, and wrote three other books of note: Carolina in Flames, a thinly veiled roman a clef about the American War of Independence, which boasts a hero bearing a strong resemblance to her beloved brother-in-law, Sir William Tavington. The beloved children's classic, The Rebel Rabbits, is a charming and perceptive allegory of the same war. The lesser known, Emperor of all the Rabbits, an equally delightful allegory of the Napoleonic Wars, has been recently rediscovered by critics, who compare it to Animal Farm; and is now again in print.

Surrounded by her large family, Lady Marlowe peacefully departed this life in 1856; and as she had indicated no wish for a public funeral service in London, she was laid to rest in the Marlowe family chapel. On her tomb were inscribed the words of Shakespeare: Age cannot wither nor custom stale her infinite variety. Julia, Lady Marlowe: Wife, Mother, Author, Adventuress.

Appendix B. Amelia Wilde

Born September 2, 1765, Arcadia Plantation, South Carolina. Died October 30, 1830, Henderson Co., Kentucky.

The fifth child and third daughter of John and Emma (Everleigh) Wilde, Amelia's life was quite different than her sisters'. In January 1782, she and her young husband, David McKay, slipped by boat out of Charleston, and headed north. They were left at their request, in a deserted cove, with their belongings. They spent the rest of the winter in Charlotte, North Carolina, where they made further purchases, including six slaves. When asked where they had come from, they said simply that they had been burned out and were headed to Kentucky. Their extreme youth allayed many suspicions, and they resumed their journey in April 1782. By this time, Amelia was already expecting their first child, but she continued on horseback for nearly the entire journey. Her pretty appearance, on a good horse and a sidesaddle, and dressed in an elegant riding habit, made her a figure of curiosity and respect. At one point, at a tavern on the trail to Cumberland Gap, the locals gathered to stare at the first lady most of them had ever seen. A few woodsmen offered some very fine furs in trade for her, but were refused by her irritated husband. On a number of other occasions, attempts were made to abduct her, (her expectant condition made her even more desirable to some, as it made obvious that she was, in one frontiersman's words, "not just fer show.") and some blood was shed.

Arriving at the settlement of Boonesborough, they were still well over 100 miles from their final destination. Discussion with the settlers there made clear to them that the McKays owned ten thousand acres of unimproved wilderness, without roads, without neighbors, and without any resources other than those they had providently brought along. Nonetheless, the McKays resupplied themselves as well as they could, and found that there were a number of other adventurous souls willing to travel with them for mutual protection. Their holdings, in the Henderson Grant on the Ohio River, they discovered to be good land and well situated for transportation of goods, but a dangerous place: not so much because of the small Indian settlements nearby, but because of the vicious outlaws and river pirates who were to plague the area for the next seventeen years. The McKays decided to build a few log cabins, for themselves and for their slaves, and only to plant crops for their own use the first year. With time, their beautiful mansion, built on the plan of Amelia's childhood home, Arcadia, took shape.

Over the years, David McKay's attitude toward the war, his part in it, and his commanders evolved considerably; and by extension, so did his wife's. McKay came to feel they had been betrayed and misled by those of their parents' generation into supporting a doomed cause. More unhappily, he came to resent Colonel Tavington's leadership, feeling he had committed inexcusable acts under his superior's orders; that the Colonel had been remiss at Cowpens, and was to a large extent responsible for the serious wounds that McKay suffered there, and which troubled him for the rest of his life.

Only once were their former loyalties in danger of being revealed. On a business trip to Harrodsburg in 1788, McKay was accosted one night by a drunk in the local tavern, who insisted he had seen him before. McKay bought the fellow drinks, hoping to shut him up, but the fellow grew louder and louder, trying to remember where he had seen him. When the man finally bawled out, "South Carolina—up on the Santee." There was a pause, the man's eyes widened, and he shouted, "You were riding with---" and suddenly was silent. McKay knew he was in serious trouble, and knew it even more the next day, when he realized, far from any settlement, that he was being trailed by the drunk of the night before. The stranger, on horseback, approached through the trees, and McKay asked him what he wanted. He was told that all the money he knew McKay was carrying would be just enough to keep the stranger from telling the world that he saw the respected Mr. McKay riding with Butcher Tavington in Carolina during the War. McKay agreed and motioned him over, asking if he would be sharing this with anyone. The stranger laughed and said no one else was going to share, for no one else knew what he did. McKay handed him his moneybag with his right hand, with his left he pulled a pistol and shot the man dead before the extortioner knew he was in danger. McKay buried him with great care, and the deed was never discovered, and never disclosed, even to Amelia; but it was one more grievance for McKay to hold against his formerly admired Colonel.

The McKays evidently came into great deal of money in the year 1791. David McKay admitted to neighbors that there had been a family inheritance, and that he had gone to New York to collect it. His journey, both there and back, was fraught with danger, as was the situation of his wife, who took charge of the defenses of their estate with uncharacteristic decisiveness. With the money, the McKays were able to greatly expand their farm operations, hire a number of armed men for greater security, and begin raising tobacco and horses on a large scale. McKay's skill at arms and talent for leadership and organization caused him to be elected Captain of the local militia. Though he had never revealed his military experience, it proved a boon to all in 1799, when he led the hunt for the abominable Harpe brothers. These human monsters were the first recorded serial killers on American soil. It is not surprising that Amelia McKay no longer needed to look to Ulysses and his perils for dangers, when Big Harpe and Little Harpe in their hide-out at Cave-in-Rock were easily the equal of mythical terrors like the Cyclops. The cannibals were hunted down, and by McKay's orders, Big Harpe's head was hung from a tree as an example. With the elimination of the Harpes, the area began to experience a time of relative safety and prosperity.

The McKays provided comfortably for all of their fifteen surviving children. Their three oldest sons fought alongside General Andrew Jackson at the Battle of New Orleans. David McKay died in 1827, and his worshipping wife never recovered from the blow, herself succumbing in 1830. Ironically, Henderson Country became, for a time the home of a man who admired and had been greatly influenced by Amelia's father, John Wilde: the naturalist and painter John James Audubon. Amelia, fearing to reveal her parentage, listened to Audubon's remarks about her father, unable to say a word.

Appendix C: The Montgomerys

Charlotte Montgomery was not allowed to read Elizabeth's letter. Her unpleasant and controlling sister-in-law snatched it away from her and burned it before she could read more than that Elizabeth, Julia, and Tavington were safely arrived---somewhere. Thus Charlotte did not know their location and was never able to reply. The Montgomerys were not ones to keep track of events in foreign lands, and never did know where they went. Contrary to Miss Everleigh's prediction, she never remarried: her brother and sister-in-law made it impossible for her. Their tyranny drove George out of the house and into the Army.

He served with distinction as a dragoon captain under General "Mad Anthony" Wayne (see Chapter 24) in the Legion of the United States in the Fallen Timbers campaign. On his return, now legally an adult, he had his own epic moment, in which he more or less relived the Return of Ulysses. He evicted the hated Ogles, married a charming young lady, and was a kind and generous father figure to his younger brother and sisters, and a firm and understanding support for his timid mother. He studied law, and eventually became a respected judge. While he could never publicly reveal his opinion of Tavington, he always revered his memory as the one who, above all others, taught him how to be a man. His sisters married and dispersed all over the South. His brother Frank, seeking adventures of his own, joined Captains Lewis and Clark and the Corps of Discovery. He survived the great journey, and eventually settled in the Missouri territory.

Appendix D: What Polly Told Elizabeth

Due to their situation as wives of good friends, and partly because they were Southern girls in New York and later in Nova Scotia who knew no one else, Elizabeth Tavington and Polly Bordon became very close. They had both suffered in the course of the war, and there was thus quite a bit of common ground. Polly knew that her past might be revealed someday, and decided it was better to tell Elizabeth something, than for her to hear the worst of it with no explanation or excuses from Polly to mitigate the scandal.

Polly told her quite of bit of the truth: she and her sister Sarah had been the daughters of a widowed cotton merchant in Williamsburg, Virginia, and had grown up in comfort and plenty. At the outset of the war, his loyalist views had led to first, ostracism, then to his warehouse mysteriously burning, and then, as hostilities escalated, to him being mobbed and beaten in the street. He died shortly thereafter of "apoplexy," as the doctor called it, but actually from brain damage from the beating. Polly was only sixteen at the time, and her sister Sarah fourteen. Being minors, they came under the guardianship of their uncle, who sold up what was left of their father's property, and took them to live with him in Richmond.

Polly told Elizabeth truthfully that their uncle and aunt were very unkind, and that what money the girls should have inherited was stolen by their guardians. She did not tell Elizabeth about the uncle's disgusting abuse of both girls, or that Sarah became pregnant by it in 1778, when she was sixteen. The uncle and aunt decided to put the girls out of the house for their "moral turpitude." To avoid unpleasant talk, the uncle took the girls along with him on a business trip to Norfolk. He took care of his business and left them at the inn where he had taken rooms. After waiting in vain for him for a few days, the girls found themselves alone and friendless in a strange town, with a bill to pay and no money. The innkeeper allowed them to work off the debt, and they found themselves reduced to servitude. Their names changed too: no longer young gentlewomen named Paulina and Sarah, or even Polly and Sally, as they called each other; they were now "Pol" and "Sal."

Polly told Elizabeth the story of the desertion (without the pregnancy), and obviously, it horrified her. Elizabeth was keenly aware of what might have happened to her if she had not been rescued by Tavington, and had had no money and no relatives to stay with. Becoming a servant was quite bad enough: Polly did not share the horrid details of having to provide other services to the innkeeper, and how they were treated worse and worse, once Sarah's condition became obvious. The baby was stillborn, and when Sarah was somewhat recovered, the two girls left the hateful inn and made their way south towards the British, since they had loved their father and automatically accepted his political views as correct.

In Charlestown, they met Major Patrick Ferguson, and, as he found them charming, came under his protection. What Polly told Elizabeth about the situation was this: that Sarah fell in love with Ferguson and became his mistress; and because he was such a kind gentleman, he allowed Polly to accompany them, and supported her as well. While others might not have believed such a story, Polly knew Elizabeth would, because of Tavington's kindness to Amelia and Julia. Polly desperately wanted Elizabeth's friendship and goodwill, and knew that having been part of a menage a trois would not be acceptable to the rather sheltered lady.

She told Elizabeth the whole horrible tale about King's Mountain, including seeing her sister shot dead in front of her, and at that point admitted that she had been raped after the battle, and by more than one man. Though many people at the time would have despised a woman in such a situation, she knew that Elizabeth would feel only horror and compassion. (Elizabeth the whole while was picturing what might have happened at Arcadia, if she had not been engaged to Charles Crawford.) She also decided that she must be quite honest about her original relations with her husband. She confessed to Elizabeth that after returning to the British, she had felt so bereaved, soiled, and hopeless that she had no longer cared about anything. She had become Bordon's mistress to have food and shelter, but had gradually fallen in love with him, above all after he was seriously wounded. This part of the story made a tremendous impression on Elizabeth, because of her similar care of Tavington. The later events—Bordon's fortunate recovery and their marriage, made the story quite perfect for Elizabeth. Polly did not tell Elizabeth that she had actually been pregnant before the ceremony, and that it was her condition that made Bordon decide to marry her.

Her subsequent behaviour as Bordon's wife certainly never gave Elizabeth any reason to feel anything but affection and respect for her. While not as accomplished or refined as Elizabeth, she had had a decent education, was an excellent needlewoman, and kept an efficient and comfortable home for her family. Polly and Bordon eventually had nine children (and named the eldest daughter after her sister Sarah) and lived as happily ever after as real human beings can.

The Bordons' children: Hugh, b. 1/2/1782; Sarah (Sally),b. 04/18/1783; Frederick (after Bordon's father and older brother), b. 6/27/1785; Robert (after Bordon's Uncle Robert Digby), b. 08/22/1788; Elizabeth (Betsy), b. 11/15/1789; Anthony, b. 12/24/1790; Charles, b. 02/12/1792; Louisa (after Bordon's mother), b. 7/12/1793; and Philip, b. 8/16/1795.

Appendix E: The Day After : A Vignette Concerning Amelia's Elopement

Julia was packing the last of her things left in the room she had shared with Amelia. For over half a year they had been students and boarders at Mrs. Rutherford's School for Young Gentlewomen; but now Julia found herself evicted not by another girl, but by the strangest of all residents at such a place: a husband. Most peculiarly, Melly's husband. Melly---no, Amelia---was now Mrs. David McKay, and was clearly charmed that she was the first of her sisters to attain the dignity of the married state.

Amelia and That Boy, That David McKay Boy, had stayed out all night together. Lilabet had been frantic with worry, thinking that they could have been abducted, or assaulted, and that Amelia was lying in agony in some abandoned field. She had made Julia go to bed, and Julia had managed to fall asleep eventually; but considering how ill and washed-out Lilabet had looked this morning, Julia could tell she hadn't slept at all. And then those two came strolling in, so pleased with themselves, so proud of what they'd done.

They had plans: and their plans did not include going to New York with them, where Lilabet was finally going to be able to marry Colonel Tavington. Their plans didn't include Lilabet or Julia herself at all. Their plans were to take Papa's Kentucky land grant and go live there by themselves under the rebel government.

That David McKay Boy—no, Brother David now-- though Julia swore to herself never to call him that, made Lilabet divide all their money and give him Amelia's third. He had watched Lilabet count it out, too; which Julia thought insulting. She admitted to herself that The Boy probably didn't think Lilabet would cheat him, but, more likely, that she was a mere woman, and too stupid to divide by three.

The Boy was going to resign his commission! Julia knew that there was nothing illegal about this, but that did not make it right! Even after the surrender at Yorktown, there was still plenty of fighting going on here in South Carolina. The Boy wasn't like Colonel Tavington, who had had to give his parole to the dirty rebels. He and Amelia were going to get a boat to take them a little farther north, and leave them in rebel territory, and then they would go to Kentucky in the wagon that had brought Lilabet, Amelia, and Julia all the way from home.

Julia hated it that they wanted the wagon. It was a little piece of Arcadia, and they had so few pieces left of their old home, that Julia couldn't bear to part with any of them. They would probably want other things, too. What if they wanted Mamma's picture, or Papa's big book? Surely, Lilabet would never let them take those away!

Now she looked at her sister out of the corner of her eye, seeing Amelia putting That Boy's horrid things in the clothes press. She did not want to part with Amelia either. They had lost their father, their mother, and their brother Richard. Aunt Sarah Jane Minerva had died, and even if she was a terrible old woman, she was theirs, and they were hers. Cousin Frank Montgomery had been hanged by the rebels at King's Mountain, and his family were back in Camden, and they might never see them again. And now, Colonel Tavington had written to tell them that big, friendly Cousin James had been killed at Yorktown. Colonel Tavington said that Cousin James "had died instantly, and suffered no pain," but it still made Julia sad. She didn't want to lose any more family, and if keeping Amelia meant being nice to That Boy, she would try to be just as nice as pie.

"I don't see---" began Julia, but her sister cut her off, seeming to know what she was going to say.

"There is nothing to discuss, Julia. David and I are going to Kentucky. We shall make a new life, far from these melancholy sights, and shall cultivate our garden---"

"But you're deserting us! Why can't you stay with us? We could all go to New York together! Don't you want to sail on a ship?"

Amelia smiled condescendingly, as she had for all of Julia's life, and it never failed to raise Julia's hackles.

"When you are older, you will understand a woman's feelings. The man one loves is everything--he is, as Shakespeare says, "my lord, my governor, my king!" If David thinks it best to go West, it is for me, as his helpmeet, to say "whither thou goest, I will go."

Julia heard this speech with growing anger and burst out, "I hate that stupid word 'helpmeet!' You're just hiding behind quotations again! It's a good thing for us Lilabet doesn't think like you, or she would have ridden off with Colonel Tavington, and left us in Camden to be trampled by that horrid Mr. Ogle and his horrid wife!"

Angry in her turn, Amelia lost her temper and hissed out, "Well, Julia, some women have stronger and deeper feelings than others! Lilabet can't feel much for the Colonel, if she'd rather stay safe here in Charlestown, teaching in a tacky little school!"

"Don't you call Lilabet a coward!" Julia gave Amelia a push, which was returned with greater force. "And don't you say she doesn't love Colonel Tavington! She loves him more than anything! She does! Don't you say mean things behind her back! You're the coward!"

Elizabeth hurried into the room. "Girls!" she cried, astonished. "Are you quarreling?" She pulled the furious Julia away from Amelia. "Stop this now! Everyone can hear you!"

Amelia flared, "I am a married woman, and no one but my husband has any right to tell me what to do!"

Shocked at Amelia, Elizabeth took a moment to collect herself and said with forced calm, "As a married woman, you owe it to your husband to behave with decorum. Shouting at your little sister is hardly the conduct of a lady." She lowered her voice, and said reprovingly, "and it is unspeakably ungrateful to sneer at Mrs. Rutherford's generosity."

"Lilabet, you are a slave to convention," replied her sister, with provoking loftiness. "One should never shrink from unpleasant truths."

Julia gave Amelia another push. "Fancy words, when you and that boy are sneaking away like dirty cowards!"

Elizabeth pulled Julia back, and said sharply, "Our room, Julia, now!"

As her sister pushed her out of the room, Julia shouted over her shoulder, "You're cowardly deserters!"

Elizabeth held Julia close to her, and took her quickly upstairs, for the anger was dissolving into bewildered tears. They reached the upper hall and went at once to their room. Elizabeth shut the door behind them.

Julia was flushed with temper and grief. Elizabeth made her lie down on the bed and sponged her hot little face.

"She hates us," she muttered. "She doesn't care about anybody but that boy."

"Julia, she does not hate us. She is in love, and that has blinded her to everything else right now."

"You're in love with Colonel Tavington, and you're not blind. Amelia said you didn't love him as much as she loves that boy. She said you should have gone off---"

"Hush," said Elizabeth, trying to stem the flow of hurt words. "Amelia, whatever she thinks, is very young, and she does not know what she is saying. I told you before, the Colonel decided that it would be best for us to stay behind. That does not mean we do not love one another. It means that we are old enough to think before we do foolish things with wretched consequences."

Julia hiccuped, but lay more quietly. Elizabeth went on, "I know, Julia, how hard it is when someone you love finds someone new and seems to forget you. I know how painful it is, believe me." She spoke softly, confiding an old painful story.

"When I was a little girl, Papa made me his pet, and took me everywhere with him, teaching me all about plants and animals. But when Richard grew old enough to be his new companion, Papa lost all interest in me, and could never understand why I was so hurt and angry. That's why I was sent away to school." She paused, and continued more briskly. "You cannot control how Amelia feels. I will try again to persuade David and Amelia to come with us to New York, but in the end they will do as they please."

"Deserters," muttered Julia.

"Possibly." Elizabeth laid aside the wet cloth, and smoothed Julia's hair. "Julia, this is happening everywhere, all over the Colonies. With the war and all the troubles attending it, families are breaking up and going their separate ways. But know this: I will never desert you, and Colonel Tavington will never desert you. You will always be a precious part of our family, and you will always have a home with us." She gave a rueful laugh, and added, "Though it might not be a very grand home."

"I don't care." Julia looked down at her fingers, interlaced over her sash. "I'll never leave you either."

Elizabeth laughed softly. "You might find someone you want to go away with yourself someday."

"Never!" Julia bit her lip, and asked, "You promise I'll never have to leave?"

"I promise that you can live with us as long as you like."

"Even if it's forever?"

Elizabeth sighed, and looked out the window. "Julia, we are all mortal. Nothing can be forever."

"Promise me."

"You can stay with us as long as we live, if that is what you want."

"Maybe," Julia said, recovering some of her spirit. "Maybe I'll be like Aunt Sarah Jane Minerva, and everyone will be scared of me. That wouldn't be so bad."

"Or maybe you'll meet a dashing dragoon."

Julia gave a little shrug, and seemed ready to fall asleep, exhausted from strong emotions. "Maybe. Or a prince."

Elizabeth smiled, "Or a brave sea captain."

Julia smiled back, drowsily, "We're going to sail on a ship---"

She was asleep. Elizabeth gently removed Julia's slippers, and covered her with the quilt. She left the room and quietly shut the door behind her. Now, to have a word with Melly.......

Appendix C. Tavington's Children

1. Colonel Richard Sharpe, b. ? 1777-d. Normandy, France October 3, 1847.

Richard Sharpe, made famous by the books of Bernard Cornwell, never knew the identity of his father. Nor did he know much of his mother. He made an outstanding career for himself in the army, rising from private to colonel, and campaigned in India, Portugal, Spain, France, and the Netherlands. He had a later, private adventure in Chile with the notorious Lord Cochrane. He had no legitimate children, as his wife had scandalously left him for another, and he could not afford a divorce. Nonetheless his two children with the Vicomtesse de Seleglise were acknowledged and raised by him: the son, Patrick, attended St. Cyr and enjoyed a remarkable military career himself, with long service in North Africa. It is an irony that two of Tavington's grandchildren were, in effect, French.

2. Senator William "Wild Will" Sloan, b. January 3, 1782, Hawkforth House, North Carolina-d. July 4, 1843, Washington D.C.

Unknown to Tavington, he fathered a son on Mrs. Charles (Mary) Sloan. Handsome, brilliant, and reckless, "Wild Will" was his mother's favorite and from an early age astounded everyone with his escapades. His reputed father died in battle in the last days of the war, but young William was accepted as Charles' son by his family and their neighbors; and only at his mother's death did William Sloan receive a letter from her, revealing the circumstances of his conception. Witnesses saw him open the letter, read it with fury, give a harsh laugh, and then throw it in the fire. Senator Sloan's adventurous life encompassed service under General (later President Jackson) against the British in the War of 1812, and some very questionable escapades in Cuba and Central America. His marriage to Caroline Hamilton did much to tame or at least moderately domesticate his habits, and he entered politics with a much-improved reputation. He was a fierce advocate for states' rights and a sworn enemy of all Abolitionists, some of whom suffered violence at his hands. His famous duel with Vermont senator Dartmouth Coffin, conducted in what is now the National Mall near the Capitol, is the stuff of legend. After the death of his wife Caroline, he married the 19-year-old Perdita Langley, and upon her death five years later, the 17-year-old Severine de Blassenville of New Orleans. "I may get older, but my wives just keep getting younger and younger," he remarked smugly to an associate. He fathered a total of twelve children upon his three wives. He died in office, of heart failure, while publicly beating a political adversary with his snake-headed cane.

3. Sir William Fitzroy Tavington, b. October 19, 1782, Arcadia, Nova Scotia-d. February 11, 1855, Halifax, Nova Scotia.

The second Sir William was a distinguished politician and lawmaker. His military career was comparatively brief, though he did see service in the War of 1812. Educated at King's in Windsor, Nova Scotia, and later at Cambridge, he was a splendid example of the second-generation Loyalist. Determined that his beloved Nova Scotia should have all the resources nature and civilisation could afford, he was active in founding its first library, followed by a number of others. He was a generous patron of homegrown talent in literature and the arts: for John Wilde's artistic temperament appeared in a number of his grandchildren in a variety of ways. He was a distinguished author: penning a thoughtful, if reverent biography of his father, a comprehensive history of Nova Scotia, and his Essays, a rational defense of a conservative, monarchial point of view. He and his charming wife, Sarah Bordon, and their five children were devoted to his father, and spent a great deal of time at the family estate. He was knighted in 1838.

4. Major General Sir John Wilde Tavington, K.B., b. November 15, 1783, Arcadia, Nova Scotia- d. February 3, 1837, Amritsar, India.

Sir John Tavington's long and distinguished military career is too well known to recapitulate here. In brief, he, like his brother, was put under the care of his aunt, Lady Marlowe, when he was sent to England to complete his education. He was bent on being a soldier, and after a term at Cambridge, convinced his aunt that the army was his destiny. He was entranced with the Old World, and never returned to Nova Scotia after leaving it at the age of seventeen, though he did correspond with his father sporadically. He was extremely close to his uncle and aunt, and his cousins, their sons. Commissioned in 1802, at the age of 18, he served throughout the Napoleonic Wars with great distinction; surviving serious wounds received at Waterloo, which were exacerbated by spending the whole of a night pinned underneath a dead French cuirassier, and his equally dead horse. After Waterloo, he made his life and his career in India, where he became known for his interest and appreciation in the arts and history of that place, and received his knighthood in 1830. His many works include: Spoken Sanskrit, A History of the East India Company, The Way of the East, and the five volume autobiography, A Soldier's Life. With his adored wife, Lakshmi, he raised four children: all sons, who enjoyed remarkable military careers themselves.

5. Emma Elizabeth Tavington Clayton, Viscountess Greystoke, b. March 21, 1785, Arcadia, Nova Scotia-d. May 23, 1864, Castle Greystoke, Cumberland, England.

Considered the most beautiful of all the Tavington daughters, Emma made a sensation at her first London season in 1802, sponsored by her aunt, Lady Marlowe. She immediately caught the eye of the dashing John Clayton, Lord Greystoke. Her parents were apprised of the young people's wish to marry, and came to England to attend the wedding, which was solemnized March 21, 1803. The Tavingtons brought all the younger children with them, and enjoyed a visit of three months. This was the last time the parents and all of their children were together. Lord and Lady Greystoke had a remarkably happy marriage, raised seven children, and their occasional disagreements with Sir Harry and Lady Marlowe were due only to certain political differences, as the Marlowes were deeply conservative in their views, and the Greystokes decidedly on the Liberal side. Lady Greystoke, like her aunt, attended the Duchess of Richmond's ball the night before Waterloo, and accompanied her aunt to the battlefield a few days later for the famous chicken dinner.

The adventures in Africa and elsewhere of Emma's great-great-grandson, a subsequent Lord Greystoke, have been immortalized in the books of the American author Edgar Rice Burroughs. It is interesting that the dark hair and light eyes Lady Greystoke inherited from her father, Sir William Tavington, have remained a feature of the Greystoke line, and were present in the later John Clayton, Lord Greystoke, as described by Burroughs

6. Celia Paulina Tavington, Contessa Castegne, b. February 17, 1786, Arcadia, Nova Scotia-d. May 5, 1836, Venice Italy.

(a.k.a. Cecilia Tavini) The wayward and striking Celia Tavington was one of those most daring and Romantic heroines of the early nineteenth century. Arriving with her family to attend her sister Emma's wedding, she successfully persuaded her parents to allow her to stay in her turn with Lady Marlowe to study music in London and make her debut in society under the sponsorship of her aunt. Her parents permitted this, and returned home to Nova Scotia. Thus, Celia was in London with her aunt when they received the grievous news of Lady Tavington's death in October, 1803. This painful intelligence had a profound and unexpected affect on young Miss Tavington, who felt her mother's life and talent had been wasted raising children in a colonial backwater. She vanished from London, and it was later found, had run away to Italy to become an opera singer. She was a great success, and under her nom de musique of Cecilia Tavini, was a favourite of Rossini, Bellini, and Donizetti. Lady Marlowe once commented that Celia was the child who broke Sir William Tavington's heart. Claudia Tremonti, the heroine of Stendahl's novel Le Chanson de L'Alouette, is believed to have been based on Celia Tavington. After many adventures, and many romantic liaisons (including the Emperor Napoleon, The Duke of Wellington, Lord Byron, Marshal Ney, and Prince Borghese), she eventually married the dissolute Count Castegne, though her sole child, Diana, is believed to actually have been fathered by Byron. Her exquisite Venetian palazzo was the meeting place of musicians and government ministers; of poets and priests. She was not entirely cut off by her family, for she was visited by a number of them: once by John in 1817, before he left forever for India; twice by her aunt, Lady Marlowe, in 1827 and 1831; and by her sister, several times in 1819, when Lady Greystoke spent a summer in Italy for her health, and for the last months of her life in 1836, when the widowed Lady Greystoke came to care for her. Celia and her father carried on a sad and tender correspondence from 1817 until his death in 1825.

7. Sarah Jane Tavington, b May 10, 1787, Arcadia, Nova Scotia-d. March 30, 1795, Arcadia, Nova Scotia

The early death by appendicitis of their beloved daughter Sarah Jane was a bitter blow to Sir William and Lady Tavington. She was always considered the sweetest tempered of all their children. She had shown a precocious talent for art, and a number of her drawings have been preserved at the Tavington home, where they are still to be seen by visitors.

8. Captain James Wilkins Tavington, b. September 22, 1788, Arcadia, Nova Scotia-d ?1828, place unknown.

Sir William Tavington described Captain James as "the most difficult of all my sons—and the most entertaining." Like his brothers, he was educated at King's. He spent a year at Cambridge, and wrote to his father that he could not bear England. His father, happy enough to have a child return home, did not insist that his son remain at university. When sailing to England for his sister Emma's wedding in 1803, young James had fallen in love with the sea, and that became his passion, his profession, and his life. He learned his profession in merchant voyages to South America and the Pacific, but the northern seas particularly fascinated him. During the outbreak of hostilities in 1812, Sir William, though he had largely withdrawn from public life after his wife's death, invested heavily in privateer vessels, and made a huge fortune in return. His son, James, was the captain of one of the most famous of these, the Proteus. Among his prizes was his wife, Anne van Weyden, whom he captured in one of his privateer attacks. Bringing her home with the rest of his booty, the occasionally dense Captain James was taken aback at his father's furious observation that "young ladies are not stray kittens." However, Miss Weyden was there in Arcadia, and obviously with child. There was nothing for Sir William to do but arrange a marriage immediately, and make the frightened young mother-to-be welcome and comfortable. At the close of the war, independently wealthy from his prizes, James Tavington began a series of exploratory voyages to the Arctic. Outfitting a ship, the Aurora, designed for this purpose, he became a renowned expert on life in the Arctic. His splendidly illustrated book, The Voyage of the Aurora, was compared favorably with the work of his famous grandfather, and was a source of great pride and pleasure to his father. Adventurous to the end, his ship did not return from a voyage north in 1828, and was presumably lost in the Arctic. He was a negligent husband and father, and his three children were largely raised by their mother, their grandfather, and their Aunt Margaret.

9. Margaret Arabella Tavington Bordon, b. July 7, 1790, Arcadia, Nova Scotia-d. November 8, 1878, Arcadia, Nova Scotia.

Devoted to her father, Margaret Tavington, though a noted beauty, refused to leave Nova Scotia for the delights of a London season offered by her aunt, Lady Marlowe. Only thirteen when her mother died, Margaret's affectionate nature and domestic habits led her to undertake the direction of the household and to support her grieving father's spirits through the difficult early period of mourning. Adamant that she would never desert her father, she refused several eligible offers of marriage; but her most persistent suitor, Frederick Bordon, eventually colluded with Sir William in 1821 to create a situation that made it possible for the dutiful daughter to remain with her father and still marry her faithful sweetheart. Frederick Bordon, a talented engineer and architect, moved into the Tavington home, and thus permanent companionship for Margaret Tavington's beloved father was assured. Three children were born of the union, and the Frederick Bordons were also, as described above, the foster parents of the children of James Tavington.

10. Sir Edward Everleigh Tavington, b. December 1, 1791, born Halifax, Nova Scotia-d. February 3, 1869, Ottawa, Ontario.

An architect of Canadian Confederation, Sir Edward' s distinguished political career spanned a formative period in the history of the country. Educated at King's and later at Cambridge, Sir Edward also was noted for his botanical interests, which he shared with his eldest brother, Sir William. He also was greatly interested in education, being firmly of the opinion that Nova Scotia and other British possessions in North America needed institutions the equal of those in England, so that talented sons of the colonies might not be tempted abroad and lost to their home. It is possible that his family's experiences, especially with the distinguished Sir John Tavington, played a role in his viewpoint. His many publications include: Why Confederation?, A Culture of Our Own, and NorthernGardens. His wife, Susan Price, had met him during his time in England, and became an important early figure in improving women's educational opportunities. Their six children received a remarkable and progressive schooling, which their mother described in An Experiment in Scientific Education. He received the honour of a knighthood in 1868. The fine public garden that he, with his brother, Sir William, established in memory of their parents is still on of the sights of Halifax. The central fountain, with its mourning nymph is marble, is enscribed Et In Arcadia Ego.