To Freedom's Call: TURN Washington's Spies Chapter 1: Extended Family, a turn fanfic

Chapter One: Extended Family

Philadelphia, 1777

Genevieve Bell stood in front of her childhood and stared, ignoring the soft rain that dampened her cloak. She attempted to feel the happiness she had once felt here, but to no avail. The place where she was born and raised was now nothing but a burnt crumbling frame of a house- this image damaged the only remaining pleasant memories of her home. No matter how hard she wished with her mind and prayers, her father was not returning and neither was the innocence of a happy life.

Letting out a gentle sigh, Genevieve turned away. The stones under her feet crunched and filled the silence. She had experienced too much death in her life to cry about it now; Mother in childbirth, her sister to sickness, her brother to the war, and now Father. The only remaining person in Genevieve's life that she loved, was taken away in a meaningless accident.

Why was God so keen in ensuring her suffering?

Without turning one last time to look at her home or her families graves, she climbed onto the wooden cart.

"Are you ready, Miss Genevieve?" asked Thomas, a former slave to her father. Father had given Thomas his freedom before his death but Thomas refused to leave till Genevieve reached her destination- something that she was grateful for.

"Yes," Genevieve replied, without turning to check if she had all of her trunks. It didn't matter to her if a few books or pretty dresses were left behind, in truth she didn't care anymore. A cool fall breeze swept through, causing Genevieve's shoulders to tense. Thomas jerked the reins of the horse and the cart started down the drive, heading to Oyster Bay. Thomas glanced towards his mistress and frowned. Her blue eyes lacked the spark that they once had and were now glazed over, as if she was in another world. Thomas made sure to put a few of her favorite reading materials in the front, but his mistresses hadn't even glanced down to see them.

Paine's Common Sense might've livened up men to the great American cause, but not Thomas's mistress- Genevieve was as cold and empty as a great winter storm.

Hours passed as Genevieve and Thomas made the journey. They advanced past many townsfolk and British soldiers on their way to New York, stopping briefing to pick up any mail that was sent to Genevieve and her father. The cart jolted to a start again as Genevieve went through the post. Thomas eyed the letters from his seat.

Genevieve set aside the letters and gathered to ones addressed to her father in her lap.

"What should I do with them, Thomas?" She asked.

"Well, you could-a read em'?" Thomas answered, but his tone was one of confusion.

Genevieve ignored his advice and preceded to throw them out of the cart, leaving the letters to be trampled and soaked by the mud.

Thomas said nothing but tightened his grip on the reigns.

Genevieve moved on to her own post and opened the first letter.

Miss Bell,

It was to our utmost dismay to hear of your fathers passing-

Without reading the rest of the letter Genevieve folded it and put it away in her cloak. She understood that it was only polite for her friends and acquaintances to send their sympathy, but she could not tolerate it anymore. Reading such depressing things only made her heart ache greater. It seemed this heart ache was to be her new constant companion. Thomas noticed his mistresses eyes dampening.

"Is there one from your frien' , Missus Shippen?" Thomas asked. It was a silly question because he could clearly see a letter from the said woman. Margaret Shippen, better known as Peggy, was one of Genevieve oldest friends. The women attended balls together, dined together and shared many whispers together; if Genevieve Bell was insight you could be sure that Peggy Shippen was near by as well.

Genevieve tore the wax seal that held the letter closed and read eagerly.

Thomas smiled at his mistresses excitement- perhaps there was hope after all.

My Dearest Evie,

I write to you with a solemn, yet hopeful heart. My deepest sympathies for your loss, however I am sure you do not want to hear this and therefore I will cease in my pity and move onto different matters.

Genevieve paused from her reading and smiled, Peggy knew her too well. Her best friend understood that Genevieve was one to grieve privately and not bond over it to others. She wasn't a girl known for needing a shoulder to cry on.

I recently met a man, perhaps you may know him, by the name of General Benedict Arnold. He is a man of exceptional character and I hope that one day I may introduce you. I am sure that you are confused, as am I. I never thought I would be courting a Rebel General, as you may have guessed. Father is not pleased with our relationship. Unlike your family, ours is one of loyalist tendencies- I do not mean that harshly- and it was not a surprise to myself when I learned of Fathers thoughts. But enough of me. I eagerly await your letter describing New York and wish you the best. Visit soon.

Your loyal servant,

Peggy Shippen

She smiled and held the letter to her chest, she couldn't wait to see Peggy again. Sighing, Genevieve reached down to sort through the pile of books near her foot and mummered a thank you to Thomas. It was going to be a long ride.

It was a sea of red.

Everywhere she looked, Genevieve saw red- red flags, red signs but most of all red coats. Oyster Bay was full of British soldiers, she couldn't move one foot without bumping into one.

It made her skin crawl.

She didn't not approve of the British, but in truth Genevieve wasn't sure how she felt about them. They certainly made choices that Genevieve didn't agree with but so did the rebels. Though the city was full of British officers, feces and intoxicated men, she could still beauty in it. She was grateful that Thomas had abandoned the cart before entering the city, not only would it have made it hard for them to navigate the streets but from where Genevieve was standing- on the ground- she could appreciate the city in all its beauty. Buildings were made of dark russet brick, tall and lean. Signs hung above doors depicting all sorts of things- from the apothecary to a shoemaker. The streets were cobble and full of screaming children, vendors and animals. No matter how dark the corner, or dirty the ground people filled the space, socializing, eating and laughing. She turned around in a full circle, attempting to absorb the bustling life of New York.

Genevieve loved the life and excitement of the city.

Thomas gently tugged her arm and called "C'mon Missus Bell, I can see the shop from here."

Thomas was referring to Rivington's Corner, a building that housed the publishing space of The Royal Gazette as well as her cousins drink and coffeehouse. As Genevieve reached the shop, she stopped and turned to Thomas.

"You've delivered me here as my father requested, you should go before it reaches nightfall." Genevieve held her hands out for her bags, trying to hold in her tears. She would miss Thomas, but knew that he had to leave and find a better life.

"I have nothing to give you in my thanks," Instead of offering him her hand, she dropped her bags and wrapped her arms around his neck tightly. In this one hug, Genevieve attempted to convey all the gratitude and emotions she felt. She felt Thomas shift and awkwardly return her hug, Thomas was uncomfortable with displaying the behavior in the public.

Social propriety be damned she thought.

"Missus Bell-"

"Call me Genevieve from now on, please Thomas." She interrupted him and stepped back from the embrace.

Thomas smiled again and restarted his sentence. "Missus Genevieve, your family has been kind to me in these past years. You owe me nothing." He turned away, nodded his head in goodbye to her and disappeared into the crowd. Genevieve reached down to retrieve her bags from the ground and hoped that they mud hadn't soaked through.

She walked past a line of people by the entrance, up to the stoop of the coffeehouse and pushed the door open with her bags. It didn't seem like venue she would knock to enter into. As the wooden door opened a wave of heat rushed into her. The coffeehouse was large and extremely warm. The smell of tea, smoke, and ink greeted Genevieve's nose- overwhelming her senses. The room was mostly wood paneled and filled with tables. Men bustled around, some in red uniforms playing cards others in aprons supporting trays of alcoholic drinks. A man in the corner closet to her stood from his table, wobbling on his feet.

"Pretty,pretty girl."He called, clearly drunk. A British officer near by pulled the man back down to his chair.

Genevieve made sure to keep her face blank, hiding hiding her disgust inside, and moved away to the bar, ignoring the drunkard and the looks she received. She didn't put her bags down or take her cloak off.

"Excuse me, is Robert Townsend here?" She asked the barmaid.

The woman turned around from wiping a stack of cups and smiled. She was small, but her large mop of bright red hair made up for it.

"Ignore Henry- he's always been attracted to women with em' big tits,"

Genevieve coughed, and felt a flush of embarrassment coming over her. She knew her face was bright red, and her lifelong insecurity over her chest size wasn't helping. The barmaid after seeing Genevieve's reaction to her impropriety didn't formally apologize but rather laughed.

"Sorry about that. I a' been so used to being myself around here I've forgotten myself and all propriety- no thanks to growing up with em' three big brothers. Mr. Townsend constantly threatens to throw me out of here because of it," The red head paused and leaned closer to Genevieve. "But between you and me, I think I scare him a wee bit." The woman's face lit up with a crooked smile and continued.

"Mr. Townsend said you'd be coming. He's out now but I can take you to your room, if you'd like? I'm Kenna by the way." The petite woman untied her apron, tossing it carelessly into the bar cage and took one of Genevieve's bags.

"Thank you," She said quietly to Kenna. Genevieve could see that under the sheen of sweat covering Kenna's face that she was quite pretty. Her cheeks were full and freckled and, managed to complement her thin lips. Kenna's eyes were a dark forest green, framed with red lashes and small crow feet. Genevieve could tell that the lines were not from stress or age but rather from laughter.

The women made small talk as they moved through the coffeehouse to the back stairs. Genevieve realized she quite liked Kenna. The girl was unlike any other woman that she had met. Rather than being quiet and sensible, Kenna was lighthearted, humorous and confident. She was like a breath of fresh air to Genevieve- who had been around stuffy, proper women all her life. Finally they reached the second floor.

"Mr. Townsend is currently housing a few officers," Kenna called over her shoulder to Genevieve as they walked through the hall. "guests usually stay in the numbered rooms."

Kenna continued talking but Genevieve barely processed anything that she had said. A tiredness swept through her, making her joints stiff and her head feel heavy. Finally Kenna stopped in front of a door and shuffled through a ring of keys.

Kenna selected a small bronze one and unlocked the door. Both women entered, Genevieve stopped in the doorway while Kenna moved to open the drapes. The room was small, but charming and decorated with the basic necessities. A large wardrobe took up the most space in a room, next to it was a small bed. Genevieve was happy to see a small writing desk in the corner, decorated with paper and quills- this would make her letter writing to Peggy much easier. Genevieve undid her cloak and sat down on her bed, wincing as a cloud of dust blew into the air from the quilt. Kenna laughed at seeing her face.

Kenna then moved to stand in front of Genevieve, her small hands on her hips and green eyes focused on Genevieve's dress.

Genevieve noticed and ran her hands down the bodice, worried that there was a stain.

"What a lovely gown, Miss Bell." Kenna moved closer and looked at the dresses details. In truth Genevieve's dress was much grander than anything Kenna had ever worn. The barmaid was used to second hand scratchy linen dresses. To a high lady of Philadelphia the dress might have been seen as more simple, but not to Kenna. The dress was a light blue which complemented the flower patterned stomacher and Genevieve's flaxen colored hair. Along the 3-quarter sleeves a small amount of white lace was visible.

"Do you like it?" Genevieve asked. Kenna nodded and eyed the dresses stitching but her persistent staring was starting to make Genevieve uncomfortable.

"I suppose I'm to start wearing more simple gowns," she continued. Genevieve started to mentally count her dresses, separating the ones that would be not appropriate for housework and the ones that were. She suddenly thought of Peggy and imagined her response to Genevieve's situation. She laughed out loud and could perfectly think of it.

'You're a Philadelphia woman, Evie. Stop moping around and do something about your situation.' Peggy would've said to her.

Thinking about such things made her heart ache. Kenna, as if she felt Genevieve's mood broke out of her trance, and moved to sit next to her.

"What's got you all down, missy? I've never seen such a sad pair of eyes before." Kenna crossed her arms over her chest, making her low cut dress more revealing.

Genevieve's lips curled up into a small pained smile.

"My father died this past month, and no matter how hard I am trying to look to the future- or even attempt at feeling happy about my predicament- I can't get out of this rut. I've experienced death my whole life," Genevieve paused and briefly explained to Kenna about the rest of her deceased family then continued. "I know I should be used to it by now, it's just that his death affected me much more than I thought it would. And I can't escape this feeling of emptiness, lack of everything and anything."

Kenna processed what Genevieve had said, her lips rubbing together in consideration. Shite she thought, this Miss Bell will need a bit more than a couple drinks and men to get over this spell.

Instead of offering condolences to Genevieve, Kenna reached over and squeezed her hand briefly.

"Perhaps you need a hobby? Or man to fill your time?" Kenna suggested, causing Genevieve to laugh. "But I doubt would agree with me on the man part,"

"I doubt he would either." Genevieve felt her chest lighten a bit at Kenna's crude sense of humor.

"I'd better be getting back to the bar, em' Loyalist won't be getting the drinks themselves." Kenna excited the room with a laugh, leaving Genevieve to her thoughts. Within moments she quickly fell asleep, plagued of nightmares and men in red.

Hi readers, welcome to my newest book. I am new to this site ( find me on Wattpad _Drusilla_ ) and eager to read as much as I can. I would love to hear your thoughts on this book as well as the TV Series TURN: Washington's Spies.