Thread: Home From War (Dr. Curiosity&Sweet Angel Jocelyn)

That night the entire Richardson estate was wide awake, slave and family alike. The return of the eldest of Mr. Richardson's offspring had returned alive, on his own two feet. All the slaves were immediately awoken, and sent to fetch everything in need for Anthony. Mrs. Richardson had to be restrained by her husband, as to not touch their very weak and tired son. Anthony was slightly relieved, as contact might have sent him tumbling backward. The attendance of slaves helped him greatly, carrying him to the restroom to be treated properly. The whole Richardson family followed in shock. Once his uniform was removed, The lady of the house demanded that they be thrown away, to her son's protest. He demanded that they be cleaned and put in his room. His father was in agreement. As hard as the years had been for Anthony, he did not want to try and dismiss them. Quite the contrary. Those hard times made him the man he was now, and he did not simply want cruel memories. The slaves obeyed, and two departed, attending to his command immediately. So Anthony could only sit back and be pampered to. It was another hour before he was done. He had been thoroughly washed, much to his discomfort, and then dressed in the softest linen night clothing his mother could find. Afterward, his body was rubbed in a scented oil, and his hair was brushed and tied in a small leather band. He hadn't noticed just how long it had grown, as for so long at had been just a matted mess against his skull. But now, shampooed and brushed, he saw that it reached just passed his shoulders free flowing. Amazing. He had chopped it down to size several times while away, and thought it to be considerably shorter. Once all the proceedings were done, Anthony immediately retired to his room, where he asked not to be bothered until he left it. He accepted no questions from anybody in the house about what had happened. Instead, he retired to his bed, eyelids heavy with years of unsettled sleep. It was not long before he fell into a deep sleep. It was not until mid-day the following that Anthony awoke, still groggy from his near hibernation. He felt like he might have hibernated had the noises of the outside world not pulled him from slumber. So, with still wear limbs, he climbed out of bed, into the hallway. Outside his room sat his mother, who seemed to be knitting a blanket of some sort. The second she saw her son, she sprang to her feet and embraced him in a tight hug, muffled sobs emanating from Anthony's chest as she buried herself in it. Had it been the night previous, the young man might have crumpled under the force of the hug, and fell to the floor. This day he felt slightly rejuvenated however, and though he was tired, he could stand the hug. Several minutes later his mother released him, and the proceeded downstairs, where the family was having lunch apparently. Anthony took his seat next to the head of the table. A seat that seemed like it had vacant for some time. When he looked around, the man was greeted by the warm, excited smiled of his family. Then, they all had something to blurt out at him. They had to pause and take turns, Anthony listening to each one intently. It was his father who spoke last. Now, Mr. Richardson was a loving man, despite his occasional cold attitude. He simply knew he had to raise men, woman, leaders regardless of the gender. He and Anthony spoke of the future of the family, how Anthony would soon run their trading business when his father retired. Anthony was very interested in this. But, what he was really interested was, was the whereabouts of Susanna. Have you seen Susanna lately father? He asked, cutting him off in the middle of speaking about the price of cotton by the pound. His father grew silent, and exchanged a series of glances, and some of the more privileged slaves in the house. What? Does she not come by anymore? Anthony looked around, seeing nothing but averted eyes as the family traited dark green eyes came their way. Is she ill? Dead? Somebody speak! He stood up, worried and outraged. They spoke nothing of the love of his life, and he couldn't stand it. Anthony, I think it would be best you forget about Mrs...Miss Littlefield. Mr. Richardson almost slipped by calling Susanna Mrs. Landry. Anthony wasn't having it though. Bounding up the stairs he returned to his room for a change of clothes. He found a loos fitting white tunic, and black trousers. Throwing on his worn brown war boots, Anthony went straight out the window and to the stables. Awaiting him in the stables was his horse that had been given to him. It greeted him with a satisfied whinny. It felt nice to be pampered off the long journey it had just endured. So, it wasn't loathe to leave with Anthony, knowing it would be coming back to such a nice place, considerably nicer than it's previous home. The stallion bounded down the long worn path, leaving Richardson estate in a hurry towards Littlefield manor. Some half an hour later Anthony was approaching the house, horse trotting at a steady pace. Everything here was the same, so young Mr. R prayed Susanna would still be the same. Anthony was greeted at the door by Mrs. Littlefield, the fair Native American beauty, who even in aging looked beautiful. The woman immediately recognized this mans features. Dark green eyes, High cheek bones with a few diamond freckles, built, firm body. This was a Richardson, and not just any. Shock filled her eyes, and she almost fell back, had Anthony not leapt forth and caught her. For the next hour, Anthony had been told the truth. In belief that he was dead, Susanna married anotherHe hadn't been told she had been forced. It struck him like a lightning bolt, and after that was a daze. Next thing, he was home, and dressing for some festivity of the harvest that would be taking place that night. All the while, his heavy heart burdened him with sorrow and regret.