14th February 1785
Chapter One
The early morning sun crept onto the fields laden with frost, the earth practically clinging to winter's last chill. Against the backdrop of barren trees dancing to the whipper of Jack Frost's songs was the Martin Homestead, a beacon of warmth and love lit cozy by the glow of the candles recently attended to by the servants. Plumes of white smoke drifted from the chimneys, cascading over the open land like fog. It was all very pretty in appearance, like an oil painting created from the distant memory of one much older, reminiscing of a time long forgotten. Inside, the Martins were beginning to stir from slumber, all save their charge still, snoring softly underneath the warmth of her quilt.
Madeleine Billings was a girl most would consider a tragedy. After all, her father had ended his life after the British had condemned the poor souls of Pembroke to the flame and found his family slaughtered. It would appear someone had a moment of clarity during the actions that day if it was worth noting because one soul had risked all to whisk the girl to safety before the church burned and the screams ensued. She had been little more than a child of eight years at that point, found only when Benjamin Martin and his men scoured the ghost town for survivors. It was all a blur in her memory. From that point, Madeleine found herself in yet another home under the care of Miss Charlotte. After the war on their front, she continued living with the Martins, laying to rest the ghosts of the past. Ten years had passed since then, and Madeleine was a young woman.
Beneath the coziness of the bedsheets, an unruly mop of red curls protruded from a poorly secured nightcap. A hand drifted from under the covers to hover overhead. Long, slender, freckled digits twitched while dreaming, intertwining themselves in the loose curls from Madeleine's bonnet. Beneath the wild, fiery mane was an exceptional face, fully round with flushed and rosy cheeks peppered with the same freckles. Soft snores followed the rising and falling of her chest, completely content to lay in that bed until noon. Madeleine had always been late to bed and to wake in the morning. An attribute Mrs. Martin was still trying to break after all these years. However, today was rather special, and Charlotte Martin wouldn't stand for lollygagging.
Eventually, with much coaxing and after the fifth, 'Out of bed now, Maddie!' she finally rose to meet the day. With eyes still full of sleep, she released a loud, drawn-out yawn. Shuffling over to the bedroom window, Maddie used the sleeve of her nightgown to wipe away the condensation from the pane of glass to peer out over the frosty landscape. It looked cold but inviting, and before Maddie even dressed for the day, she had decided it would do her good to ride that morning. With her mind made up, Maddie wasted no time putting on her wool stockings and undergarments. For mobility's sake, she donned a pair of brown trousers and vest, nestled warmly underneath her father's old worn coat, far too big for her small frame. Maddie enjoyed wearing it when the weather permitted, especially in the mornings when riding. Maddie felt closer to him when she did. Before leaving her room, Maddie tied back her unruly hair with a leather strap and quietly closed the bedroom door before casually descending the staircase to breakfast.
The Martin home was empty in those days, the chicks nearly all grown, having left the nest to begin their own families. Of the Martin children, only Susan remained. She was still as quiet and pretty as she had always been. Susan was the first to greet Maddie that morning, placing her spoon aside from her bowl and suppressing a chuckle at the sight before her.
"What are you wearing?" She giggled, stealing a glance at her stepmother. Benjamin was studiously scanning the paper.
Maddie grinned, reaching over the table to pluck one of the last apples from the bowl. "It's a wonderfully brisk morning, wouldn't you agree? I thought I might ride into the bargain."
"Madeleine," Charlotte chided her ward for her table etiquette. "Oh, on all days!"
"I agree, Miss Charlotte, on all days, this is the best!" A large bite from the juicy apple gave an audible crunch.
Benjamin Martin lowered his paper, examining Maddie with spectacles perched on the end of his nose. Maddie stopped eating her breakfast mid-bite, licking her lips and straightening her posture.
It was always impossible to tell what Ben was thinking behind those ever-processing eyes of his. Today, Ben appeared tired, Maddie thought. She continued to watch on as he carefully folded the paper in his lap and removed his glasses. After a quick look around the table and a sip of his coffee, Mr Martin cleared his throat.
"Stay clear of the creek and be back before luncheon."
A beaming thank you came from Maddie, who wrapped her arms around Ben's neck, taken aback by the show of affection. Bounding for the door, she tucked her feet into a pair of worn riding boots and flung a red scarf around her face. It clashed horridly against her hair and complexion. As she flung open the door, a call from the dining room gave her means to pause. It was Ben.
"Happy Birthday, Madeleine!"
Maddie smiled, and at that moment, Benjamin couldn't help but see her father. "Thank you, sir!"
When the house had settled, the muffled sound of a galloping horse drifted into the distance, Charlotte broke the silence with a sigh. Her husband knew very well what that huffing meant and what it concerned. Ben dismissed Susan, waiting until she bid her father and stepmother good morning before continuing to more pressing matters. With certainty his youngest child was out of earshot, Martin poured all his attention to Charlotte, who took a sip from her teacup.
"I assume you want to discuss Maddie?" He offered the opening to the subject of their charge.
Charlotte hummed, reaching out to rest her hand over Ben's, a warm smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. "She's eighteen now, Ben. We have to give thought to her future. If not marriage—."
"Marriage?" Martin stifled a cough, washing it down with the last of his coffee.
"If not marriage," Charlotte patted his hand, "Then we must consider the possibility of placement in a home."
Benjamin's eyes looked up from their joined palms, sighing deeply. He, of course, had considered Maddie's position as closely as he had all of his children; he took her on as his responsibility, a last act of friendship to his friend John Billings. Perhaps the years had passed too suddenly for Ben to believe Madeleine was now a grown woman. Nevertheless, he was always one to see loose ends tied, and they all knew this day would come.
"I've considered it," He admitted, reaching over to the small pile of correspondences at the table. "I received a response, oh, about a month ago, to a proposition of mine. A position for Madeleine–not far from here–has recently become available."
"Oh?" Charlotte was intrigued.
"Mhm," Ben opened the letter. "To run a household of an old friend of mine. He was there when we found… He remembers her from the days of the war. I would trust no one more than him with Maddie's welfare."
"Well, go on, for heaven's sake! Who is he?"
Ben handed the letter to his wife. She scanned its contents eagerly.
"Jean? Mr. Villeneuve? Why didn't you mention this to me sooner? Good heavens, Ben! This letter states a planned visit–for today! We have nothing prepared!"
Benjamin Martin smiled, reassuring his wife. "Charlotte, a room can be made up easy enough. He's a friend; there is no need for extravagance."
"He's French."
"He never lets anyone forget it."
They both laughed heartily before falling quiet as Charlotte finished reading the letter.
"Oh, Ben, Maddie is such a fiery spirit–I'm not so certain the placement will be a good fit," Charlotte admitted with a growing worry in her eyes.
Ben crossed his arms over his chest, tilting his head toward his wife. "Jean is a stubborn old mule. A fiery spirit like Madeleine would do the old dog some good. Besides, the whole point of the visit is for them to discuss the formalities. We aren't sending Maddie away—we are just offering opportunities."
Charlotte clicked her tongue, displaying a look of uncertainty. "May the good Lord have mercy on Mr Villeneuve, should this idea of yours come to fruition."
"May he just." Ben laughed.
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