History Has Its Eyes On You ~ A Hamilton Fanfiction (Book 1, Act 2)

Denial

Author(s): Naps

°~1 Week Later~°

(Y/N POV)

I stared to the ground as we strolled through the plantation. I had instructed that Emily should do the same, but I knew deep inside that she’d be unable to contain herself. Alas, what could I really do? When I did allow my eyes to take sight of that around me, I saw women working the fields. Distantly, I could see one individual plucking potatoes from the rich earth and, more closely, another was harvesting wheat. In fact, there was a great deal of hard labour being done near my vicinity and, if I were not trying to keep my disgust quiet, I would have shuddered.

Admittedly, everything about this was wrong. Keeping quiet was always a temporary plan, but I still felt it wasn’t the time to bring up the issue to Washington. After all, it was now clear how secure we were in Mount Vernon; Washington was the sole reason we were still alive. Would bringing our conflicting morals to light be such a good idea if it could reduce our protection? But, upon recognising the horrors, I realised the answer was simple: what did my safety matter in the face of the cruelty surrounding me? By Emily’s vexed expression, I could tell she felt the same.

But somehow, she hadn’t spoken up yet, which I was, in one sense, relieved about and, in another, disappointed. Not in Emily, of course. No, never in Emily. Sure, I could criticise her to the ends of the Earth, but she had really begun to flourish as a result of her passion for rowing. It was because of this that I was even more disheartened by the look of heartbreak in her eyes. It was a look I hadn’t seen since-

It was upon Washington’s request that we had a tour of the plantation; we were initially fairly sceptical and tried to talk him out of it, but we soon realised that it was an order. The knowledge of those who roamed these fields was the lingering thought on our mind as it soon became apparent that we were about to witness something truly dreadful. Martha, who had been very kind to us, was the one to lead us out into the estate. I found it daunting the way that she took little notice of workers who tirelessly did her bidding. However, we were stuck betwixt our 21st Century minds and morals and the comparable dystopia of the 18th Century. It all led me to wonder how long it would be until Emily spoke up. She had always been the franker of us, never quite understanding the link between what she wanted to say and the context. There was a growing voice instead of me, yet, that longed for Emily to say something. Anything.

‘It is quite marvellous out here, isn’t it?’ Martha pondered, brushing her hand against the elegant stems of wheat which were arranged adjacent to us. I forced a smile: sure, the wheat is beautiful, Martha. She was asking us such a question as if nothing was afoot in these fields. Like she could see past the injustices. A superficial stance, honestly. And yet, I couldn’t find myself looking at much more than the earth beneath my feet. Was I so hopeless? Martha paused. ‘These fields once grew tobacco, no less! Can you imagine?’ I almost felt bad for not caring. Almost. She had been kind to us, yes, I was sure of this. But did that matter in the grand scheme of things? No, of course not. It was becoming increasing clear to me that this walk was having a stupendous effect on me. No wonder Elanor and George found themselves irritated upon Washington’s request that first week.

Until today, it hadn’t occurred to me that women worked the fields, but I soon became familiar with the fact that there were a great many. In an attempt to bring myself from the dark grasp of hypocrisy, I managed to raise my head to look forward, as if as a sign of respect. Emily, walking ahead, continued to keep her head low and, unfortunately, this caught the attention of Martha. On usual occasion, I’d take Martha’s caring attitude as a sign of kindness; now, it just posed a potential opportunity for Emily to express her aversion to the ghastly activities of Mount Vernon and – by extension – America.

‘Emily, my dear, are you alright?’ she chimed, resting a hand on her shoulder. Emily nodded politely and raised her head a bit. I found it a shame that she felt the need to comply. Was this my doing? I supposed so. And thus, the conflict of my mind grew only more. The following events only drew me closer to a conclusion.

Emily gasped, running a few steps closer to another patch of wheat and my head turned towards her as an involuntary response. ‘Hi!’ I froze for a moment as I realised that my fear (or hope, depending on my fluctuating stance) became a reality. A pair of broad, curious eyes were peeking through the shrubbery. Based on their height from the ground, they must have belonged to a child aged between 5 and 8. Still, I knew at once that they had to be a worker based purely on the colour of their skin. The echoes of my conflict seemed to only grow louder as a result. Perhaps if I only reduced my thinking, I could avoid-

Emily crouched to be at the child’s level and tilted her head with a smile. She reached out a hand in their direction, causing the child to flinch. A kind, yet chaotic, expression overwhelmed Emily’s face and I had to suspend my disbelief as she said, ‘Wanna play tag?’ Martha looked at me at once, dead in the eyes. Did she wonder whether I was somehow responsible for Emily’s actions? ‘Here, this is how you play,’ she continued, though it was clear that the child had no idea what was going on. I didn’t have much time to process the situation before Martha turned back to Emily and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her away.

‘Back to work,’ she ordered, clicking her fingers a few times. At once, the child was gone. In a hush voice she then pulled us both together. ‘What were you thinking talking to one of them?’

‘U-uhm, I was-’ Emily began, shrinking into a ball somewhat. She placed her hand into mine quickly for comfort.

‘Well… just don’t do it again,’ Martha commanded. There was such power in her tone and I could see Emily shaking. As if nothing had occurred, the tour continued. Martha’s pace was increased following this incident and I noted that she made sure Emily was close to her at all times. I knew Emily meant well, but clearly Martha was blind to her poor attitude. They all were. It was at this moment that I was sure that we had to do something. And soon.