*The Antique Legacy*: Anne Barnes, Chp. 10, Gen. 4, 1788

Warning: Contains past views of women and their importance in society. By no means do I support these views or believe in them! I have included them in this story because it is part of U.S. history.

~1788~

Dear Diary:

Have you ever felt like you just didn't fit in?

I know exactly how that is. I am starting to often find myself questioning my happiness here. I am not all that positive if I am cut out for this type of lifestyle. I don't belong in a wealthy house! I don't belong in Charleston! Not in thick layers upon layers of makeup, nor in these expensive dresses, these stiff corsets that leave me aching! Even with Antoine, I feel the loneliest I ever have in my entire life. I was happier when I was mute!

I was happier in that 'ratty old potato sack' dress. I bet Antoine would be surprised if I told him that!

I am so very confused. I had thought I was happy here, but I feel stressed all of the time. I feel like Antoine is placing a lot of pressure on me, and I don't know how much more of it I can handle. Since the children were born, all I do is raise them, cook, clean, and sleep (and I don't sleep much at all)! And I must always, always look presentable (Antoine insists). And above all of that, Antoine and I have been arguing quite often. I feel like something must give. And soon!

But I don't wish to bore you with the hardships I am facing. I have some great news! I heard some yelping out in the yard today and I decided to investigate. It turns out it was a small dog that was searching for a home. Quickly, I invited her in to live with us.

I named her Daisy. But she looks the opposite. She is dirty, old, and has a stench. None of that matters to me because she is the sweetest hound I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. And she's here to stay. I will take care of her, even if I have many other duties. I know what it's like to be out of place, and this hound has found her niche with me.

Besides, she looked and smelled much better after I bathed her.

I hear Antoine coming.

Until next time,

Anne Barnes

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"Uh, hello, Antoine!" Anne blushed, a bit flustered.

Antoine reddened with anger. "Why is there a disgusting mutt in our house?"

"Oh, n-n-no! She's not disgusting. I gave her a good bath and everything." Anne smiled, though unconvincingly.

"I want that mongrel OUT OF THIS HOUSE. Now. Why didn't you even ask me if you could keep your dirty mutt? Those animals can carry diseases! What were you thinking?"

Anne burst into tears, sobbing and sniffling.

"Anne, what's wrong?" Antoine's harsh voice softened.

"That h-hound j-just-" Anne gasped "- reminds me of h-h-home. She r-reminds me of my-myself."

"Anne, dear, but you are my beautiful wife! She is an ugly dog. And this is your home. Surely your are talking about your old house in Detroit."

"She is b-beautiful to me."

"She is nothing like you."

"You don't understand. She is just like me!"

Antoine pulled her into an embrace. "You can keep the mutt, as long as you never compare yourself to her again. You are nothing like her."

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Daisy brought much happiness to Anne. Anne felt a strong connection to her. "I promise to take good care of you."

Daisy, as it turned out, took quite a liking to the house and life at the mansion. She was fed breadcrumbs and small pieces of meat twice a day. How she loved that food!

She was protective over the children, especially Franklin. She loved to sniff him and lick his face!

Unfortunately, Daisy sometimes behaved a little inappropriately. She seemed to think that it was fine and dandy to destroy furniture...

...well, at least until Anne made it clear that that sort of behavior was unacceptable. If Antoine had found out, he would have been furious, and may have ordered Anne to set Daisy back on the streets. And Anne would never allow that to happen.

Anyway, the look on Daisy's face told Anne that she had gotten her point across about the furniture.

And, though as lovable as Daisy was, Anne could not help acting a little frantic when Daisy proceeded to "go" inside the house. And then play in it.

Anne had tried hard to fight down that nauseous feeling, but found herself visiting the privy anyway.

Always, always, Anne forgave Daisy for whatever mistake she made. Daisy was a part of the family now. And Antoine could not do anything to deny that.

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~Late 1788~
Dear Diary:

I love each of my children very much. That is part of why I am so angry now.

My beautiful little Antoinette simply loves her xylophone. She will spend hours with the toy, pounding out notes that I swear, form a melody.

Not far from her is my son, Bartholomew. He adores his logic puzzle, and gets grumpy when I try to interrupt his pragmatic toy reverie to put him to bed.

   I frequently worry about my other son, Franklin. I notice he often sits toward the corner, away from his siblings, destroying and undermining the small dolls that live in Antoinette's dollhouse. He is a different boy, indeed, but I love him very dearly, like the other two children.

   Though I am the one who mainly spends time with them, on occasion, Antoine visits them. He has taken quite a liking to Bartholomew, who seems the most interested in learning. To my great distaste and disappointment, Antoine mostly ignores Franklin and won't even look at Antoinette. That is why I am so upset. And more. I want him to spend more time with our children! And I don't want him to play favorites, like he currently does!

      I'm getting tired; I must put the children to bed now.

     Until next time,
          Anne Barnes

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     "What's the matter, sweetie?" Anne asked, looking down at Antoinette.
     "I ga go potty, Mama. I ga go real bad."
     "Okay, Nettie."

Anne placed her daughter down onto the child-sized toilet. "Make sure you go, sweetie. You wouldn't want to be stuck with a wet dress, would you?" Anne swallowed and patted Antoinette on the head. She could not believe she remembered that day, which seemed so long ago.

   "Okay, Mama. Nettie done!" Antoinette declared after a few moments.
   "Okay, Nettie. Are you sure?"
   "Nettie done! Nettie done, done, done!" Antoinette giggled.
   "This is not playtime, Anne." Antoine boomed. Anne was startled. She had not known Antoine was in the room.
   "I-I know, Antoine. I was just getting Antoinette ready for bed." Anne looked at Nettie and smiled. "Go on and play for a few more minutes. I need to talk to your father."

     "I'm quite distraught, Anne." Antoine stated.
     "Why?" Anne asked, slightly afraid.
     "Because I am not pleased with how you are handling your duties." Antoine picked at a cuticle. "I think you need to be focusing more on teaching Bartholomew to read and write. And arithmetic. I do not want to see you play with Antoinette when Bartholomew could be learning!"

"Anne, I want Bartholomew to follow in my footsteps. He is a very smart young lad, and I want him to become an advocate. This could do wonders for our family name! And it'll show those Draytons and Manigaults -- and those Middletons, who's boss. So you make sure he learns to read and write!"

"Papa, I wanna wead too! I wanna wite too! And awithmaticks!" Antoinette boasted, excited at the thought of learning something new.

"What? Absurd. You cannot learn that; you are not smart enough. You're a girl. You need to learn to cook instead. You would not make it a day as an advocate. Ha! The very thought..." Antoine laughed harshly.

First came shock for little Nettie. She wasn't smart enough? But Bartholomew was? Because he was a boy? She would have to cook instead?

She cried and cried. "No! I wanna wead! Nettie smart, too!"

Antoine rolled his eyes, bored.

Simply horrified, Anne stomped over to her husband.

"How dare you say that to her? How dare you? She is a very bright young girl, and you completely insulted her as well as hurt her feelings! And what about Franklin? You hardly every say anything about him, and he is also intelligent!"

Antoine guffawed. "How dare you speak to me in such a manner? Anne, I am starting to lose my patience with you. I have put up with you for a few years now. Your attitude and low work ethic has disturbed me to no end. You need to treat me with more respect."

"What? You think I need to treat you with more respect? How about the other way around? And maybe you should treat your children with a little more respect, too!

"Every single day you complain about me and mock me! Whether it's my cooking, cleaning, attitude, or my children!"

"They're my children, too!" Antoine shouted.

"Well, act like it and spend more time with them, for goodness sakes! All you want is perfect, perfect, perfect, and I'm not perfect, so you must have married the wrong woman!" Anne shrieked.

There was a silence, so quiet, that Anne could hear a ringing in her ears. Even little Antoinette was completely still and wide-eyed.

"Fine. I see how this is. You better be careful, Anne. You will want to treat me better. Or else."

"Or else what?" Anne challenged, sounding more confident than she felt.

"Or else I might just find another wife. A better wife. One who is obedient and agreeable. One who knows her boundaries as a wife and knows how to act like one. And, I would take Bartholomew. You could, uh, have the other two."

Anne was shocked. After a moment of awe, she regained her senses. "You will never take my children away from me!"

"I will not have to if you start acting like a real wife!" Antoine yelled.

Anne turned away from him, searing with anger. I will never let him steal Bartholomew from me. These are MY children. They are only connected to Antoine biologically. He does not even care for them, besides merely tolerating Bartholomew! They need a real father -- one who will actually spend time with them. One who will love them as much as I do!

"I must put Anne to bed. I will be down soon." Anne said quietly. Antoine left.

"Sweetie," Anne whispered, picking up Antoinette, "are you ready for bed?"

"Yes, Mama! Nettie ready for bed!"

"Are you okay, Nettie? Do not fear, Mama is here, and I love you very much."

"Nettie loves Mama more than Papa! Papa is mean!" Antoinette declared.

Anne bit her lip.

"You love Papa, Mama?" Antoinette inquired.

"Of course I do!" Anne nodded, smiling a little too brightly. The words tasted like tin and gravel in Anne's mouth.

"Goodnight, sleep tight, and do not let the bedbugs bite." Anne whispered.

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A few days later, Anne returned home from a shopping trip to a market in town. There was a spring in her step, for Antoine had been as sweet as a sheep after their recent bickering. He had apologized for his behavior, but Anne was cautious to believe in his apology. She tried to convince herself it was true, because she wanted their lifestyle to work.

When she walked in the door, she heard crying coming from upstairs. Panicking, she rushed up the steps to find a wailing Bartholomew in tears.