Hey guys! For North Carolina History we have to write a story based during the French and Indian War.
This is the prologue, and I would love if you would give your thoughts and critiques.
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Prologue
Only a few years after the war was announced in our region of Maryland, Uncle Washington called James to battle. It was not unexpected, he was a thirty-five year old man in perfect health, and his Uncle in law was a major general. He left with merely a nod to me, a quick hug for the children, and then he was gone.
It has been two years now, and the war is finally coming to a close. I know that I should be relieved; this event is something every estranged wife has been waiting for, but I have not. I am not relieved, not one bit. I am not a weak woman; I have enjoyed every minute of running our small indigo plantation. I have raised all three of our children on my own, with little to no help from my righteous sister Amilia. I love to be an independent woman, as wrong as it is to say. I can’t believe he’s coming home.
James and I were married merely two months after we properly met. It was an arranged marriage. My family was rich owners of an indigo plantation. His family was northern factory owners. We were the treaty between the two; the agreement upon sharing of land. I was barely seventeen when we were married, he was thirty. James was the widower of two different women. Because of this great age difference, we have barely ever communicated. Instead of the loving relationship I had always dreamed I would have with my husband, all I got was a partner is business. James had always been a friend to me, nothing more.
I woke up early in the morning to a knock on the door. Reluctantly, I drew myself from my warm bed, laced up my dressing gown, and hurried to the door. The minute I stepped out of my chambers an icy wind hit me with a chill. I tiptoed towards the entry way as silently as possible so that I would not wake the baby, Louisa. Unfortunately, a faint cooing told me that the early morning visitor had already done so. I pulled back one of the curtains near the window. Standing on the stoop was a battered soldier. I quickly let him in.
Louisa cried softly in my arms, nervous and tired. The soldier’s dirty garments and worn look seemed strange amongst my pristine home. His sad eyes told me the horrors of the battlefield without him having to open his mouth.
“Would you like some tea?” I broke the still silence. He looked surprised at the friendly gesture, but slowly nodded. I called down to our cook, Eliza, and set her to prepare the tea. My attention refocused to the soldier. Questions flew through my head, crying out desperately for information of the final moments of war, and perhaps, of my husband, but it was not a lady’s place to ask questions.
Eliza returned with the tea, setting it down swiftly then curtsying. I nodded to her and she bounced out the door. The soldier took a cookie, watching Louisa with gentle eyes. Her cries were nothing short of ear piercing, so I couldn’t imagine why. After a moment, he held out his arms.
“May I?” He murmured. Relieved, I placed Louisa in his arms. Slowly, he began to rock her, singing a soft lullaby that I had never heard before. “She reminds me of my little girl. What is her name?”
“Her name is Louisa, named after my mother Louisa Washington,” I softly replied.
“Your mother, the wife of George Washington’s brother Samuel?”
“That’s correct.”
He lifted his tea cup to his lips with one hand, his other still rocking the silent Louisa.
“Mrs. Clemson,” he said, already guessing who I was, “I’m terribly sorry to intrude on your household in such an early hour, but I come bearing news.”
“I guessed as much, Sir...”
“Grenwald.”
“Right, Sir. Grenwald then. And this news, I pray that it brings tidings of the ending of this terrible war.” Sir Grenwald’s face looked shocked, partly because it was not common for a lady to speak out of turn, and mostly because I mentioned nothing of my husband.
“It gives me great honor to say that yes, the war has begun to finish. In fact, in just a couple of days, your husband will be attending a meeting in Georgia discussing a treaty.”
“So he’s doing well?”
“You could say that,” he muttered, “He surely is lively.” I tossed him a confused look. “He was my commanding general,” he shrugged, as if this explained everything.
We sat for a moment in silence before he spoke, “I’m sorry Mrs. Clemson, I’ve been beating around the bush,” He took a deep breath, “Your husband has been paralyzed in both legs thanks to a fatal wound on the war field. There is nothing more we can do for him now; he is condemned to his chair.” He ended the sentence with a pause, ready for the tears to come flooding out of my face; waiting for me to excuse myself to the restroom in an emotional sigh. I did none of these, just nodded. At that moment I realized that I now had six people to care for. There was sweet baby Louisa, who needed all of her mother’s attention, and my five year old boys George and Charles. Along with my own children, there were James’s teenaged sons from his previous marriage, Michael and Alexander. But now I had not only all these children, some close to my age, but my husband too. At this realization I dismissed the soldier and ran to hide in my bedroom.
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