Title: Morning
Author: R. F. Lupin
Rating: PG
Warnings: typos
Disclaimer: I don't own the Martin family, or the American Revolution . . . Because that's not even possible. –duh-
A/N: "The Patriot" was on TV today, and I caught about the last hour or so. Then, I was hit by the Ispiration!Fearie, and decided I should write this fic.
I've decided that Susan speaks to Margaret. They're close enough that I think it works. I'm very interested in the family dynamic of the Martins, and on top of that, I'm an avid 18th century costumer. Expect historical accuracy!
Morning
Margaret Martin woke early one Sunday morning. Susan was still sleeping next to her, contentedly sucking her thumb.
Quietly, so as not to wake her younger sister just yet, Margaret got out of bed and crept to the door, slowly cracking it open so that she could peek at the grandfather clock at the end of the hall.
It was 4:30.
Margaret sighed and knew now that she was up, she wouldn't be able to go back to sleep again. She went to the wardrobe in the corner of the room and picked out what she would wear to church that day. Rummaging through her few sets of clothes, she selected her blue linen petticoat and the fine cotton jacket with the little flowered stripes that she'd just finished last week. She was rooting though the drawers for her embroidered stomacher when Abigale came into the room.
She was already dressed, and Margaret wondered how long she had been up.
"Ah, Miss Margaret, you're awake," she said warmly, moving to rouse little Susan.
"Yes, but only for a few minutes," Margaret replied. She turned back to the wardrobe and retrieved her stays and pocket. "Would you mind terribly?" she asked, holding the stays out to Abigale as Susan rubbed the sleep from her eyes and looked around blearily.
"Not a bit, miss. If you could just wait a moment," Abigale said kindly. Susan got out of bed and padded over to the wardrobe, and looked through her clothes, the amount of which was even smaller than Margaret's. This entertained her as Abigale helped Margaret lace herself into the restricting whalebone stays.
No one spoke for a while until Margaret said plainly,
"I miss Gabriel."
Abigale smiled mournfully and conceded,
"Aye, I miss him too. He was so good with the little ones."
Gabriel had enlisted with the Continental Army, much to her father's displeasure, many months back. His letters had been frequent and lengthy, but they weren't the same as having him home. He'd helped Margaret and Abigale keep the younger ones in line, and had always brightened the house with his smile and very presence.
Since he'd left, the relationship between her father and her older brother Thomas had become even more strained and tense. Thomas insisted that if Gabriel was old enough to go to war that he was too. Her father, however, held to the rule that he would have to wait until he was seventeen to do anything of the sort. Their shouting matches were becoming louder and more recurrent everyday, and it was getting harder and harder for Margaret to explain them to Susan.
Some days, Margaret just wanted to scream. She was the woman of the house now after her mother died, and had three younger siblings to care for, as well as helping Abigale and the other servants with all of the baking, cooking, and mending. She didn't appreciate their verbal sparring matches at all. They were both being immature, she thought, and wished desperately that they would both grow up.
"He was always so funny, don't you remember?" Margaret said as she felt the stays hug closer to her body, forcing her breath out in small puffs. She put her hand to her waist, as though that would do something to dull the pain.
"Aye, miss, I remember," Abigale said. It was no secret that Gabriel had been one of her favorite children. She tied off the lacing, and said, "There, you're all set."
Margaret nodded her thanks, and set about getting dressed. As Abigale helped Susan into her own, smaller set of stays, Margaret found and put on her stockings and shoes, tied her pocket around her waist, and slipped into her petticoat.
"I must go wake your brothers," Abigale said then, having finished lacing Susan into her stays. "I trust you can help her finish?"
"Yes," Margaret said. Susan was already fussing, and she would become unmanageable soon if no one paid attention to her.
"There, there, Susan," Margaret said, bending down to loosen to offensive garment. "Is that better?"
"No," Susan said with a stubborn pout.
"I can't make them any looser," her sister said. "You won't fit in your clothes then."
"Don't care," Susan protested. "Want Gabriel."
Suddenly, Margaret understood. She pulled Susan onto her lap and stroked her hair.
"I miss him too," she said softly. "But he had to go away, remember? He'll be back soon, though. He said so in his last letter, remember?"
Susan thought for a moment, and then said,
"No. Want him to come home now. Why doesn't he come home now?"
"He has to stay or else he'll get in trouble," Margaret explained. "The Army will get angry if he leaves early. It's important that he stays until they say he can leave."
"We're important too," Susan argued, and then said simply, "He should come home. I want him home."
"He'll be home soon," Margaret said, not knowing what else to say. Susan shrugged, and snuggled closer to her sister. Since Gabriel had left, they'd become much closer. Susan hung onto her older sister, even more than before, and she spent most of the day with her, copying most of the things she did. It was her own way of dealing with the leaving of yet another family member.
Everyone else seemed to think that just because Susan didn't speak that she didn't hear or comprehend anything. Margaret guessed it was because of their constant babying that the younger girl didn't speak to any of them. Maybe it was because Margaret treated her with as much respect as could be given a five year old, she rewarded her with the honor of being her confidante.
"We should finish dressing," Margaret said after a few minutes. Susan nodded, and with quiet determination, walked over her pile of petticoats and undergarments. She got dressed mostly by herself, only needing help with the straight pins on the front of her little gown. Soon, both sisters were ready to go, and they left their room to go downstairs for breakfast.
Father, Thomas, and Nathan were already there. They were all dressed and sitting around the table, the former two eyeing each other with disdain. It wasn't even dawn, and they'd already gotten into an argument. Margaret rolled her eyes as she helped Susan into her chair and got a bowl of porridge for each of them.
As she ate, she reflected on her lot. It wasn't easy being a woman, even one as young as she was, but she would certainly take it over the other option.