ETERNAL: OF LOVE & WAR

1760.

War.

It seemed to be the human race’s favorite pastime when they wanted something done. Illusion of glory and power clouded the eyes of those who actually, had enough power to stop war to begin with.

The victims were the ones who had not much say of how and where the wars should have been fought, or how they should go on with their lives amongst all the plumes of smoke billowing from their burned down houses and farms.

Lives that had been shattered would never be rebuilt the same as it was before.

War had raged on for some years the newly-found continent: America.

Like with everything else throughout history, powers came and tried to conquer, by all means necessary.

Wars waged between two major European powers, two coalitions. The British coalition against the French coalition. They wanted the natural resources, they wanted prestige, they wanted a new place to spread their beliefs and lifestyles, they wanted everything.

War was the answer as diplomatic talks came to a stalemate, as agreements became useless points that nobody respected.

They imported their wars to this continent. The battle of power and influence that had been waged in Europe for quite some time, now became a war that had to be won in America too. And, with it, they dragged the peaceful natives to wars too by forming coalitions with them.

Thus, war spread, like wings of death that covered the continent with dust of misery and smell of greed.

War became like an addiction.

One of the British fort was Fort Wellingsworth. It was at the Arrowgate region, close to the present day Virginia state. It was positioned right across from the river Sharawne, which was considered a strategic location, providing means for logistics to be brought in direct from the river Potomac, a major river system that fed directly into Sharawne. Additionally, the body of water also served as a natural defence against ambushes, the same reason why a moat was incorporated into the forts and castles in Europe. Water provided the best first protection against intruders.

Fort Wellingsworth was huge. Several hectares, at least. Massive 10-metre tall stonewalls encircled the whole fort, with cannons positioned ready for battles at all time.

Soldiers’ barracks dotted the northern side of the fort. Brick buildings with cots, and kitchens on the outside of each barrack.

The huge compound included a governor mansion. Yes, a mansion, right in the middle of the fort. It was the seat of Governor General James Louis Alexander Farrington, the highest British military and administration authority in the Arrowgate region, which included smaller forts in and around Tuckerberry, Astonbridge, Wappichuwaa, and Elmer regions.

Some semblance of normality of life was attempted to be maintained within the mansion area of the fort. A black steel gate encircled the mansion, with a man-made pond with fish was built in the middle the front garden. A sanctuary in the middle of a world filled with the pungent smell of gunpowder and cannon blasts.

The mansion was built from red bricks with high windows and well-manicured lawn with white gravels and a veranda with cream-colored chairs for enjoying the view of the fort walls in the distance.

Years ago, when the war began, Arrowgate was the first major regions squarely won by the British. They had built Fort Wellingsworth and the governor mansion as an unmistakable sign of their claim to the region and the smaller regions around it.

General Farrington himself was a tall, handsome, ambitious man in his 50s who had spent most of his life in the military.

He was the only son of an aristocratic family, who was not excessively rich, but fiercely patriotic. A distant uncle of him used to work in the palace, serving the king directly, no less.

He enrolled into the military at 16, as a young cadet, at the request of his sick father who wanted him to make proud of the House of Farrington. He rose fast through the ranks with his wit and agility. He was a master strategist, with the wit of a fox and the accompanying ruthlessness that was needed to get things done.

He married the only daughter of a rich London merchant family, Lady Josephine Campbell. She became his partner and her family money provided him with staunch financial support. She was weak-willed, and head over heels in love with him. He never really loved her, though. She was too simple, too tame for him. She was just a necessity, a means to be “complete.” She withstood his many dalliances with many pretty women in the upper echelons of London social life. She kept quiet, closed one eye, and she focused on her womanly duties as a good wife should. She attended social functions at her husband’s arm, smiled, waved, looked as pretty as could be, and conveyed to everybody how happy she was. She was seen as the perfect wife, perfect homemaker.

But no, she was not happy. She was not perfect. She could not even bear the general a son, an heir. All she bore him was a girl. A handicapped girl, who was born a few weeks early, sickly, with a left leg that was not developed properly. The muscle was weak, so that girl had to walk with a walking cane for the rest of her life.

A quiet embarrassment, really. Nobody talked about it. Nobody asked about the girl. The general never took the little girl anywhere. Lady Josephine seemed to be the only person who ever loved that girl, like a mother should. She taught the girl all she knew about womanly duties. She was good at those afterall. Sewing, painting, crocheting, cooking, dressmaking, reading poetry, social etiquette.

The girl grew up knowing her place. She was timid, quiet, obedient, and never made a fuss about why her father only saw her once in a while, why she was never taken out on a social picnic, why her birthday was always quiet.

The girl was sickly on top of being handicapped. She was always pale, with weak health since her babyhood days. She had long wavy brown hair, with large brown eyes that contrasted well with her pale skin. She was really good with sewing. She could sew a beautiful dress in just a few days, or a nice bag for the papers. She sewed for everybody, a canvas bag for the gardener’s tools, a cooking apron with flowers embroidered on it for the cook, a nightgown for her mother, a little silk sack for pills for the family doctor, whom she saw a lot due to her weak health. It made her feel useful, feel like she was appreciated. She loved it. Being appreciated was nice. She sewed once for her father, a handkerchief with an eagle pattern stitched to it. He took it, glanced at it for a few seconds, thanked her, and left for work. The handkerchief was still in his drawer now. Dusty.

Lady Josephine and the girl, who was now a young lady, did not come along to America when the general was posted to Fort Wellingsworth. Hushed gossips swirled around among the high society members all the way to the chambermaids and page boys and gardeners that that was because the general was too embarrassed of his handicapped daughter.

She brought her sorrow as a betrayed wife, a failing mother, to her grave. She died quietly with only the girl by her side in their cold London mansion, while General Farrington was busy attending the birthday party of Lady Felicity Grimson, his mistress, far away in Fort Wellingsworth in America. Yes, the mistress he brought along to the fort. The mistress who was just a few years older than his handicapped daughter. The mistress who had kept him company, drunk with wine and sensuous presence night after night, for months even before his wife died, lonely in London.

Did the general care? Well, not really to be honest. He sent his aide in London to care for the funeral processes, and due to his duties and distance, he could not even attend the quiet funeral.

After the funeral, the next headache came for the general. Yes, his sickly, handicapped daughter. Obviously she could not be left by herself in the London mansion. What would people say? He did not want people to think of him as a heartless, careless, father. That would give him a lot of trouble if he needed anything done in the palace or the government offices, or for the promotion he was eyeing, as a British commander for the whole American battle campaign.

No relatives would take her in, and no man would marry her due to her weak health and her handicap. She was his baggage now.

Thus, Lady Evelyn Arianna Farrington, the handicapped daughter, sailed to America to be with her father, who grudgingly took her into his mansion in Forth Wellingsworth.