Nancy Whiskey

“I do not want her involved in this mess any further than she already is.”

“Then why did you invite her to dine with Genet?”

“I do not know. It was only that I wanted her to see that Philadelphia is civilized. I had no idea she would go on the attack.”

“What were you expecting, Daniel?”

“That Genet would be distracted enough by Nancy to ignore us.”

“He was certainly that, but you might have guessed from her performance on the docks that Nancy would not simply sit back and be an object of admiration.”

“But that was an extraordinary happening—an adventure for her. I thought that she would behave herself at an ordinary dinner.”

“I have a better reading of her character than that.”

“I had assumed she had some company manners.”

“Admit it, Daniel—you miscalculated. Consequently you ended by dragging her into a highly charged political situation.”

“Dragging her? There was no way on earth to stop her.”

“You underestimated her, Daniel,” Trueblood said, wagging a finger at him.

Daniel sighed and ceased his distracted packing to sit on the bed. “Yes, I know that now.”

“If you intend to stay in this line of work, with me assisting you, Nancy could be very helpful to us, if one of us were to marry her.”

“If you take advantage of my absence to get in her good graces—” Daniel rose to shout accusingly at his brother.

“I was going to offer to go to Pittsburgh in your stead,” Trueblood interrupted.

“No. It is my job. I should not even have let you carry that packet.”

“I was thinking of your wound.”

“A scratch. Besides, you get lost going across town. If you missed one river you would overshoot the city entirely.”

Trueblood lay back and put his hands under his head. “She reminds me a bit of the Loyalist lady. What do you think?”

“Who? Oh.” Daniel thought for a moment, his outraged expression softening to one of abstraction. “No, not at all.”

Chapter Three (#ulink_7d52851d-c92f-560e-b6dc-24225867a851)

Trueblood and Nancy came in the kitchen entrance to Mrs. Cook’s, Nancy carrying her basketful of lemons and packets from the apothecary shop, and Trueblood burdened with parcels from the butcher’s.

“I thought this was supposed to be a free country where a person could speak her mind,” Nancy argued. She plunked the basket on the table, tore at the ribbons on her bonnet and tossed the headgear carelessly aside.

“Not on the public street and not in front of a crowd sympathetic to Genet. Had I not been with you, I do not know what would have happened to you,” Trueblood returned.

Mrs. Cook held her finger to her lips, warning them that the ill maids were asleep.

“It is stupid, this worship for a man who is no better than a pirate himself. Fitting up privateers, indeed!” Nancy whispered urgently.

“I cannot like the way you speak out in public against Genet, not with this French mania that has seized the people of Philadelphia. Washington himself is not safe from them.”

“I give him a lot of credit for not fleeing the city,” Mrs. Cook said, wagging her head as she stirred a kettle on the huge iron crane overhanging the fire.

“Were he to do so the government itself might fall,” Trueblood said.

“Washington has the courage to stand his ground,” Nancy declared as she removed a kettle of steaming water from one of the hearth trivets.

“He is the president. It is his job to take abuse.”

“Should I rather lie and pretend to favor this stupid talk of war with England?”

“Nancy, dear,” Mrs. Cook interjected, trying to mediate. “Are you sure you do not feel this way because you have so lately come from England?”

“Well, of course, I still have loyalties to England. That is no small part of my abhorrence for the present insanity. But looking at it objectively, it is stupid for a country to be drawn into a conflict where no offense has been given to it and there is nothing to be gained from fighting.”

“Hold whatever views you like.” Trueblood shook his finger at her. “Simply do not speak of them in the street.”

Nancy shrugged and began to unload her basket. She neither wished to argue with Trueblood nor discomfit him, but she had a certain contempt for his powerless state where she was concerned. If Daniel had caught her taunting a mob of street rabble he would have…What? She contemplated the prospect of him tossing her over his shoulder and carrying her home, and was disturbed that the fantasy held so much appeal for her.

“Nancy, why are you so quiet?” Trueblood asked with foreboding.

“There is no point in talking to you while you are angry,” she said, measuring some herbs into the teapot and adding hot water.

“I am not angry with you. I am afraid for you.”

“I would not concern myself if I were you. If things go on as they have been, this Philadelphia rabble will succumb to a force more powerful than France, England and America combined.”

“Yes, the yellow fever is getting worse by the day,” Mrs. Cook agreed.

“Another reason you should keep to the house, since you are unwilling to take refuge outside the city,” Trueblood argued.

“Not if there is work to be done here.”

“Daniel would be extremely displeased.”

“What has Daniel to say in the matter?” she asked with a pretense of coldness as she began to slice the lemons.

“He left me with the admonition to take care of you.”

“I should not be your responsibility, either.”

“Nevertheless—”

“Stir this, Trueblood,” Mrs. Cook commanded as she went to check on the invalids.