And May My Blood Stop Running Blue…

The next day, Lee solemnly strolled through the remains of his estate, hoping that perhaps he would be able to find something that the fire had not destroyed. The night before, he had thought about finding his own sleeping accommodations, but decided against it, fully aware that he would not be able to close his eyes. A flicker of light shined into his eyes, causing him to search about himself for the gleaming culprit. He bent down and lifted a small hand mirror, which had been shattered during the disaster. Though the glass was cracked, he could still see his reflection. To his surprise, the face in the glass looked nothing like his own. His complexion was now the same shade as the ash beneath his feet. Long creases had formed under his bloodshot eyes and he was sure that a few extra strands of gray had formed in his temples.

He rubbed his fingers over the edges of the mirror fondly. It had belonged to his first wife, who coincidentally was also named Ann (though she obviously spelled it differently). Though she never actually said so, Lee knew that his new wife never particularly appreciated the fact that he had kept the mirror. But Lee had gone through years of endlessly taking care of his first wife, trying desperately to nurse her back to health. And even though, in the end, he lost her, he always had a particular fondness for this hand mirror that she had left behind. If he closed his eyes, he could still see her stretched across a sofa, lifting it to her eyes with her delicate pale fingers, hardly even aware of the beauty that was reflecting back at her. Lee undoubtedly loved his new Anne, in spite of any negative feelings she may have had towards him. But could he help the fact that at times, he found himself pondering over the past, wondering how life might have been had his first love not been torn away from him?

"Mr. Lee," someone called out from behind him. Lee turned to see his steward, Mr. Robert Lansing.

"Lansing," Lee cried out hoarsely. "Tell me: are all of the servants safe?"

"Yes, we are all fine, sir."

"And…are all of the servants still here?" He now of course was alluding to his slaves.

"Uh…the majority of them are still here, sir." Lee shook his head fretfully. He continued to rub his hand over his reflection, causing him to inadvertently slice his fingers on the crisp edges of glass. He wheezed in irritation, grasping the wounds. Lansing quickly came to his side, ripped off a strip of cloth from his handkerchief, and assisted Lee in wrapping the cut.

"You know…" Lee mumbled. "I came here because I thought perhaps I would find something that had been unharmed by the fire."

"Really," Lansing muttered through his teeth, his eyes twitching anxiously.

"This has been the worst week of my life. My favorite horse was killed, my home was destroyed, my wife cannot bear the sight of me…I'm absolutely ruined. But I'm so very glad that you are here. I've known you all my life. You have been like a father to me."

"Yes, well…" Lansing's teeth suddenly began to chatter. Lee stared at him curiously, noticing beads of sweat streaming down his forehead. "Mr. Lee, I cannot lie to you. There is something that you absolutely must know."

"Well?" Lee urged nervously. "What it is?"

"The truth is… I am not merely 'like' a father to you."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Lee inquired, feeling his heart rate rising.

"I had a great respect for your father. You must believe that. But your mother… I loved her so very much… I would have killed for her. And one day, many years ago, when your father was away… You must know that your mother had a deep affection for her husband. But perhaps there was something she adored about me as well. Anyway, several months after the incident, your mother announced that she was with child. And that child was you."

"Did she ever actually tell you that I was your child?" Lee asked, almost inaudibly.

"Well, she had no way of knowing."

"Good God, Lansing. Why are you telling me this? What could possibly come of it?"

"I don't know, sir! I really don't know! I promised her that I would never tell anyone, especially you. But for some reason, when I first saw you a moment ago, the guilt became too much for me. I would have gone absolutely mad had I not told you. It's unexplainable. I'm sorry, sir."

"Why is this happening? Is it really all because of my impulsive boasting? I'm sorry that I was arrogant!" At this point, Lee was screaming out loud to no one in particular, causing Lansing to feel a bit uncomfortable. "I've lost everything! And now I cannot even take pride in my aristocratic blue blood?"

"Uh…" Lansing began to fidget. "Technically, your blood is not blue. It never was. As you can see, it's a brilliant shade of red." Lee looked down at his bright red injury and scrunched his face in disgust.

"Thank you for pointing out the obvious," Lee grumbled, turning to depart.

"Where are you going…son?"

"Don't call me that!" Lee snapped, for once giving in to his bad mood. "I just want to be alone! The stars are bent against me and it's time for me to fix this before I 'accidentally' swallow poison." As it turned out, Lee's determined departure served more for dramatic effect than anything else. Lee really had no idea how he could possibly fix his problem. "I must think this through! This is not the time to be negative!" And then it all became clear. An average man would not be able to deal with such a horrific turn of events. But the annoyingly optimistic Lee was just motivated enough to solve his problems, instead of burying himself in pity. "Wait…" Lee murmured. "This all happened because of the promise I made that I was unable to complete… so I thought!" Lee had always desired American independence, but now it became obvious that, if he was unable to gain approval from the House of Burgesses, his life would end in catastrophe. "That shall not happen!" Lee shouted, startling a sleeping cat. "They will agree to being independent, whether they want to or not!" Deeply exhilarated and flowing with self pride once more, he leaped up onto the bony back of his mule and trotted, slowly but surely, towards the House of Burgesses. FORWARD HO! …again.