By the cast of dozens....
Date: 24 May 2000
Her Manifest Destiny
The inn was smoky, and the day's end would bring some cool---perhaps they would open the doors and windows and ease the reek in the public room. The man sat close to the door---wary...alert. That attitude has saved his skin more than once since he had come to the new world---America they called it now, after the revolution. They were proud of their rag tag independence---and ignored the fact that there were still Tories---old timers secretly loyal, who sought to re-establish ties with England---and the monarchy. If the infant nation was to survive, it's leaders would have to abandon their petty squabbling---and give their President honest power.
He admired them though---people who worked, and fought, and believed in their right to liberty. It has drawn him several years earlier when he fled England, and the ambitions of his high born father. For years, the Earl had seen fit to ignore his baseborn son. Dirk and his mother had lived in poverty, and shame. His mother had been a kitchen girl in the Earl's house..when his eye fell on the sixteen year old with alabaster skin and flashing eyes, it mattered not that she had no wish for a liason. The house staff heard her pleadings that first time---and turned a deaf ear. Many had girls of their own---and so long as the master was occupied, their daughters were safe. For one month, the Earl took Dirk's mother when the mood suited him, ignoring her tears, or protests.
Then he lost interest, and took to ingoring her---up till the day when the swelling of her belly could no longer be concealed. Then he ordered that she be turned out of doors...as a wanton.
His mother expected little better. The town's folk knew very well that refusal had never been an option for Tilly---but they hated her none the less, and treated her as a whore. She bore her son in the shack of a woman greatly scorned---but trusted for her remedies...and found it in her heart to love the child she never wished for, whose father she hated. Dirk she named him---for to survive he would need to be sharp, and tempered--and unafraid. The Earl heard of the babe eventually---the gossips saw to that---but cared little. He had children by his union to a high born, mean tempered shrew, and had no interest in a bastard.
Tilly fought to feed her son and her self---taking in mending, washing, whatever she could find. She apprenticed to the town midwife, and when the midwife died, was tolerated better. She never knew respect---but her skills saved too many babes to be ignored. Even the high born ladies learned that fewer of their number were taken by the childbed fever when Tilly attended them.
She taught herself to read, and sent her son to the village school, using money from their meager means to purchase an education for him. He was quick and bright, his eyes the same flashing brown as hers. His skin was olive, and his hair was glossy dark. As he grew into young manhood, it was clear that he would be a fine figure of a man---broad shouldered, narrow waisted, and strong limbed.
He grew up fighting---refusing to allow his mother's name to be dishonored in his hearing. He began to notice the village girls as they cast him lingering glances---but his mother's fate was burned into his soul, and he knew too well that they wished only to dally...bastards, even handsome ones were not husband material...and then tragedy struck. Tilly was killed by a drunken father in high rage---he's tried to beat his wife after she delivered yet another useless girl---and Tilly got between them. A careless blow had sent her into the hearth stone---crushing her skull. The inquiry ruled it an accident---and the father was released without penalty...until the night that he met Dirk on a darkened country road. The boy did not kill him---but he would never walk without a limp, nor see from one of his eyes again..it was justice for a woman who had deserved better.
Only days later, Dirk found himself being accosted, and carried off in a fine coach---the Earl wished to see his base born son. His legitimate sons had
all died...one drank himself to death---another fell in a duel---and the last had been thrown by his horse...leaving the Earl without an heir. He would claim the bastard, and continue his line. It never occured to him that Dirk would want no part of this--that the young man hated his father as much as Tilly had---and that he would not be dazzled by the promise of an estate, or title. He ordered the boy buggy whipped---imagining that the bite of the lash would clear his mind...
He never anticipated the gumption or resourcefulness of his son. Dirk crept from the stable to the house after dark, ignoring the pain of his striped back. He found his way in, and rifled about for small goods, made up a satchel, and stole away before morning...it took him a week to reach London, and there he pawned the goods for passage to America...several years had passed since then, and he had done many things to make his way. The boy had grown into a fine man---but his heart bore the scars of his growing. He never fell in love--nor sought it---survival was his only goal. He acquired manners enough to pass through society, but had no inclination to become a gentleman.
And now he was in Washington, planing his next venture, when he saw the girl. Not that her dress set her apart---more the grace with which she moved.
He saw her face when she spoke to the inn keeper, and felt something strange in his breast bone...creamy skin, high brow, full lips that looked to be crafter for kissing---and cat green eyes that she kept low. No doxy this---but what was she doing here? Her cloak had fallen back, revealing a spill of chestnut tresses that gleamed like richly grained wood, even in the dim...he had not had much to drink---but enough that suddenly he could not look away from her...and he did not remember rising and walking across the room. He didn't recall reaching out and touching the hair with the hand of a curious child---and suddenly, she was on her feet, her cat's eyes shooting fire at him for the effrontery..........
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