Prolouge
Madeleine
There was no absolute way. It was impossible for me to sit in the dark, feeling ultimate
pain and misery. For with every day that passed, the scars inside of me grew deeper. Things had been going wrong ever since I was twelve, with the first of May, 1716 being the last day I was in the world of blissfulness.
I just couldn’t live on in the world of frilly lace, marble mansions and lunch parties made hell by controlling fathers and perfect sisters. There is a part of me you don’t know. No matter what the legends and tales say about me, I am a person, with thoughts, feelings and dreams. Sure, I may be a black, crooked, heartless wretch, but you were subject to the one sided, biased works of the scholars and authors. They left my part out. You cannot truthfully say that you know who I am. You can not truthfully say you know my story until you hear my part, the truth behind my past. You must know how I was dragged down to the path I take now. Only then will you truly understand.
I was born on April 17th, 1704, in the city of York, England, along with my perfect twin sister, Helena. Our father was Admiral Edward Gray, a great naval hero. He was held in high regard and respect by the top elite in England, especially after he was marked for bravery by the Queen. Our mother was Lady Elizabeth Gray, a glittering young socialite. She was beautiful and fun. I longed to be just like her.
For the first twelve years of my life, all was well. Nothing could have been better. I was born into wealth and privilege. I got my education from the comfort of our home along with Helena; learning French, Greek, reading and simple mathematics. We had a music instructor; I took on the cello, Helena the flute. After our lessons were over, we would be cooked a large, gracious meal, than afterwards, I did things with my sister. We went into town, we played outside, and, at the end of every night our mother would tuck us in, read us a story, and sing a soft lullaby to get us to sleep. I had not a trouble or worry in the world.
After the first of May, 1716, however, things were about to change. That next morning, May 2nd, was starting to go off like a normal day. We were eating breakfast, laughing and conversing. Suddenly, my mother stopped eating. She stared at us with glassy eyes.
“I feel strange,” she moaned. The words were barely able to come out of her mouth. She dropped her fork as she fell back, unconscious. We sent for the doctor, but my mother was slowly deteriorating. She passed away ten days later. I was there when it happened. We were all there- My father, Helena, even my cousin Isabel and her family. I remember the moment very well.
My mother asked if we could have a moment alone. She held my hand, looking at me with her emerald green eyes.
“You have become a very beautiful young lady Madeleine. It is sad I won’t get to see you grow up. But remember this. You will become someone. You and your sister will make a difference in the world. I knew it from the moment you two were born. Never forget me,” she choked on the last breath, her hand let go, and the lights left her eyes.
I would remember than always. It was a terrible thing to experience. My mother, the one who I adored and loved, was dead. I felt like all the evils of hell had come upon me. I shut myself in room, crying all day at all night.
Two and a half years went by. On October 10th, 1718, we went to visit my cousin Isabel and her family at their estate on the outskirts of York for breakfast. My father and his sister – Isabel’s mother, were going to make a surprising announcement that would change the course of our lives forever.
“I was appointed,” said my father, “to become the official representative of the English Royal Navy in the city of Port Royal. It’s in the Caribbean.”
What would you do, father?” Helena asked curiously.
“I would hold somewhat power, control the navy, and help them win the very tough war they are fighting against piracy in the area,”
“Pirates!” Piped up Isabel, “Pirates right there! Are we going to be able to go to?”
“Hush Isabel,” scolded her father.
“Why yes, Isabel,” said my aunt, Catherine Latchmen, “We are all going to move there together. But don’t worry. We’ll be in different houses. We just…we just want a sense of family, after Elizabeth…”
I stared at my father and aunt, wide-eyed.
“We’re leaving England forever?”
“Yes, my darling, I’m afraid so,” said my aunt, “Don’t Worry, I’m sure it will be fantastic.
No matter how many times we were reassured, it was definitely not fantastic. Nothing was the same. For nearly four years, my life was in misery. At the age of seventeen, however, my life was about to have a great, shining moment. But like everything else for me, it was doomed.
