August 10th-19th, 1860
Baltimore, Maryland
Home of Cordelia Abigail Everts II
Margaret blinked her eyes open tiredly when the sun streamed through the window of the guest bedroom. She yawned, pulling the covers over her head as she tried to sink back into the dreamworld.
But the growling of her stomach and the smell of something cooking kept her from going back.
With a very unladylike growl, Margaret threw off the covers and stood. There was a bowl of cool, slightly soapy water on the end table, along with a towel. As much as Margaret would like a soak in an actual tub, this was the next best thing and there was no way she was going to walk around with yesterday's filth stuck to her skin. As she picked up the cloth to start, there was a knock on the door. Margaret jumped in fear until Miriam's voice spoke up from the other side of the oak.
"Maggy? Are you up, sweetheart?"
Margaret opened the door, smiling at the older woman. "Good morning, Miriam. What can I do for you?"
"I brought you some clothes to wear today. It would look a little better if you weren't walking around in your Assassin's robes in broad daylight. Breakfast is ready whenever you are."
Margaret glanced down at the dress that Miriam held in her arms. She thanked the older woman as she took the dress and returned to her room. The woman lingered before throwing open the window.
The city of Baltimore was awake long before she was and it was a sight to behold. Carriages clogged the streets, the neighing of the horses adding to the symphony of life that made a city. Men and women walked the sidewalks in either leisure or with a purpose. Margaret took a deep breath before turning and getting ready. The dress was a simple one, made of cotton and with a homespun quality, much like the women of the south normally wore. The cloth was dyed a dark blue, a wonderful combination that went well with her dark hair.
After a nice small sponge bath, dressing in the borrowed dress, and pinning her hair in a braided crown, Margaret was ready to go out and greet polite society.
And her very traditional aunt.
She stepped out of the room with a deep inhale.
"Good morning." She greeted as she entered the kitchen. Her silver-haired aunt gasped delicately as her eyes shot to her. With all the delicate nature of a lady of noble standing, Cordelia Abigail Everts II stood smoothly and embraced her only niece.
"Oh, it is you!" the woman exclaimed. When she pulled back, Margaret found herself staring at an aged mirror. "When Miriam informed me that you were here, I thought for sure she was pulling my leg. It's been far too long, my dear."
"I know." Margaret said as she sat down at the table and delicately started to pick at the food that was placed on the table. She selected several pastries. "And I do apologize for that, Aunt Cordelia. It's just I have been rather busy with Assassin business."
"Please, you don't have to explain yourself. I was once an Assassin like you, dear. I know the duties that come with the title of Assassin take up a lot of time." The elderly woman took a sip of her coffee. "Speaking of which, how is your husband doing? And your children?"
"All of them in good health, as far as I know." Margaret sighed sadly. "It's been far too long since I've seen them."
"You've told your husband about your escapades, haven't you?" Margaret's silence was enough of an answer. Her aunt scoffed. "You have to inform him of what you do. Otherwise, he'll think that you're doing ill things and being unfaithful."
"I have a perfectly good cover story."
"And that is?"
"Uh….I have been helping Father with his business in Griffin Rock."
Cordelia shook her head disapprovingly. "My poor brother is going to drive himself mad looking for someone who never wanted to be found."
"Are you sure that Great-Great-Grandmother left by her own volition?"
"I don't know what I think, dear. From what I have been told from other relatives, Cordelia was a rather estrange woman."
"I'd assume you would have to be to leave behind your upper-class life in order to fight in a seemingly impossible fight."
Her Aunt gave a smile. "Indeed."
The two women sat there as they ate breakfast, engaged in quiet, polite conversation about the many goings-on in the world. Of course, this quickly turned to what Margaret's brother was doing.
"Oh, he's on his way to the Kansas Territory to investigate claims of a Piece of Eden being there."
"Hmm. That would explain the horrible violence that has sprung up there. Have you read the papers? 'Bleeding Kansas', they're calling it. Such as shame, really. Seven years of awful violence and nothing has been done."
"Mentor Kellan thinks that this will be the final straw that will lead us to war."
"Oh, I don't doubt it. But, tell me, my dear, what does the young mentor think about getting involved in the conflict that she is so sure is coming?"
Margaret swirled the dark liquid in her cup around, hoping that she would get away with not answering. Of course, ever the intuitive woman, her Aunt gave a groan of disgust.
"Please tell me she is at least is going to try to stop the outbreak of war."
"She doesn't see a way to stop the war from coming."
"Pshay! She doesn't need foresight to know that if war breaks out then many will die. On both sides of the conflict. And, whether you agree with the enemy or not is a moot point when you consider that those in a corrupt government love to gamble away other peoples' lives when it suits them."
"Mentor Kellan can't do anything in regards to politics. If she gets involved with the United States Government, manipulating the politics behind the scenes to suit ourselves, then we are no better than the Templars."
"But we don't need to pull the strings. All we need to do is speak common sense to those daft politicians who can't see past their own hubris." Margaret's aunt shook her head. "The Assassins have long since become far too passive when it comes to events. Always reacting, always using the excuse that it is out of our control, and that if it is meant to happen, it will happen. Bah! This is the mindset that has led us to become shoved further and further into the shadows while the Templars take control over their own destiny."
"You don't mean that, Auntie." Margaret said. "That is the mindset of a traitor."
"It's not treason when it's truth." The two women quieted down when Miriam entered, carrying a pile of laundry. "Oh, Miriam, dear. Please, sit down and eat. You're still recovering."
"I'm fine, Ms. Everts. Really. And I need to get this laundry finished."
"Alright, but do take it easy."
Miriam nodded as she left the house. Margaret gave her aunt a curious glance. "What's happened?"
Much to her shock, Margaret's aunt looked worried as she nibbled on a breakfast pastry. "Miriam fell ill about five weeks ago. The doctors said that she had summer miasma. She's only just recovered and I've been running myself mad with trying to get her to take it easy while she recovers."
"She's trying to save up to free her husband, Aunt Cordelia. You can't expect her to take even one day off when she's healthy enough."
"I know. But I worry about her."
"Just the same way she worries about you." Margaret dusted off the crumbs that had fallen on her dress while she had been eating before standing up. "I am afraid that I must depart for New York. I hope to make it back before too long."
Her Aunt just smiled upward. "I wish you would stay for a bit. I would love to have introduced you to the Shaws. They are such a lovely family."
"Maybe some other time, Auntie." Margaret promised her. She embraced the older woman in a hug. When they separated, Margaret smiled. "I promise to write you as much as possible."
"Please do."
The two women walked to the door, where Margaret left her aunt at the door to walk towards her horse. She saddled it easily, giving her aunt one last wave and farewell, before heading off back towards New York.
Margaret rode for the next few days, arriving back home on the nineteenth of August around noon. Her children were out in the front lawn, playing a game with her husband.
As soon as her horse pulled up, the oldest turned around excitedly.
"MOMMIE'S HOME!" Julie shouted. That got the other two's attention. With the game abandoned, and the three of them rushing her, Margaret pulled her horse to a stop and dismounted. Her feet had barely been planted on the ground when her three children tackled her. With an 'oomph', the woman went down under a wave of children, all of them asking her at the same time if she brought them something from Grandfather. She gently pushed them off, laughing as she did so.
"Welcome home, Maggie."
Margaret smiled up at her husband of fifteen years with love. His fiery red hair was alit from the shine of afternoon sun. She took his hand and stood up, embracing him with a tight hug as though she hadn't seen him in years.
Which, if she looked at it in a certain point of view, it was true.
"It's good to see you Lionel." Margaret said as she pecked a tender kiss on his lips, which, much to her amusement, caused her children to cover their eyes and proclaim their disgust. Looking deep into the almost violet eyes that belonged to the man that she fell in love with, Margaret smiled lovingly. "I missed you."
"I missed you too." He gave her another kiss, this one getting an even bigger protest from their children. "How's your Father?"
Margaret's smile tightened but thankfully her husband didn't know it. "He's doing well. I had to cut my visit short, as I got a letter from Aunt Cordelia, asking for me to visit. There was a sense of urgency, which is why I didn't contact you to tell you."
"Let's go inside and then you can tell us what you did." Lionel glanced towards the house and the five of them started towards the house. Margaret diverted for a moment to put the horse underneath the stable boy's care before heading after her family. Once inside her home, she sat down at the table, listening to her children telling her what they had done while she was gone. Her good mood, however, dipped when Lionel's mother came to see what all the ruckus was.
Margaret didn't along very well with her Irish mother-in-law. Aisling Lealan was someone who preferred that women stay in the house and take care of the children. From the first day that Lionel started to court her, Aisling had a problem with Margaret.
Maybe the older woman sensed that she was hiding something.
Maybe she knew what was going on, and she disapproved of Margaret putting her grandchildren in the path of a Templar assassin.
Whatever the reason, there was nothing that Margaret to do except deal with her husband's mother in stride. Even the man that she married felt that his own mother went overboard a bit when Aisling went off on Margaret.
"Oh." The woman said with a false sense of surprise. Margaret suspected that the grey-haired woman had watched her arrive at the house. "You're back. How was your trip?"
"It was…. interesting."
"Hm. How is your Father?"
"He's well."
"Good." She turned towards Lionel. "I'll be heading to the market tomorrow at dawn. Let me know if you need anything."
"Would you like some company?"
Aisling turned towards her with an expression that Margaret could only describe as polite disgust. "No thank you. I think I shall endeavor to go by myself."
Margaret turned towards her husband with an expression that could only be described as annoyed amusement. Lionel just shook his head and gave her a sign to be patient before turning to his mother.
"Would you be a dear and keep an eye on the children, mother? I wish to take my wife out on a ride towards the Turtle Pond."
Aisling turned her nose up as she said haughtily, "Very well."
Margaret smiled up at her husband as he placed a plate of heated up lunch in front of her. She ate, relishing in the feeling of a full belly. Her children kept her company, informing her of what they did while she was gone. Her oldest, Julia, showed her a beautiful needlepoint of a sparrow that she did with her grandmother's help. Margaret gushed honestly at how detailed and professional it looked. Of course, this only started Aisling down on a lecture that basically boiled down to 'you're not here enough so I had to teach your daughter things that she would need'.
As the sun started to set, Margaret and Lionel saddled their horses and rode towards the turtle pond that sat on the edge of the property. While it was once their romance spot, reserved only for them, it was now where Margaret's youngest child, born only nine years earlier, was laid. The child, a son whom she had named Lionel Philip II, only survived two days after birth before passing away. It broke Margaret's heart to bury a child that she had carried inside her for nine months. She came here almost every afternoon, sometimes to replace the shriveled flowers with fresh ones.
Never had she come here with Lionel.
After tying their horses to a tree, the red-haired man watched as she moved forward solemnly, removing the flowers that were shriveled and dried before placing a new, fresher bouquet on the packed dirt.
She didn't flinch as she felt her husband embrace her from behind.
"It hurts my soul, Lionel." Margaret muttered sadly as the two stared at the grave of the son who would never know life.
"I know, Maggy. I know." He gently tightened his grip on her shoulder. "Don't pay my mother any heed. She's still upset that I didn't marry that girl from Dublin."
"She never liked me."
"As much as I hate too, you are right." He pulled her away from the little tombstone that was planted in ground. "But she will be gone in a few days. All you have to do is wait it out."
"I guess you're right."