Peggy Monaghan has tea every Tuesday and Thursday with one of her best friends, Elizabeth Lynch, married to Tommy Lynch, Jr. In 1775 there is so much CharlesTown gossip to discuss and so much rebellion in the air that two days a week scarcely suffice. The most recent topic: the new Royal Governor, Lord William Campbell.

      Anne, now almost thirty, was not a pretty woman. Her face was too strong, her jaw too square and stubborn, her eyes so deep-set that they often seemed to glare. But she was a smart woman, spirited, patriotic, and loyal to her family. She had married the well-to-do merchant, David Turnbull, and he considered himself fortunate. . . .

     The handsome Forsythe men were a bold lot, some people went as far as to mutter a "wild and rakish" lot.   I scarcely knew them. They had left for abroad before I was old enough to attend parties. Before Edward, the youngest, had left for England, I had danced with him once at my very first ball. Being new to dancing and balls, I was much on my guard, and as for "Ned," I remembered vaguely that he was handsome and danced well and that his charm seemed too well practiced.

       George, the oldest Forsythe, now swaggered again about our colony. He had returned from London two years ago, and, I admit, returned most dutifully as soon as he learned that his father had taken seriously ill.  Frederick, swaggering still, had returned a year and a half later when his father died to help his brother with the burden of managing their lands. Ned had returned just two weeks ago on the same packet whose mailbags brought the damning letter about Lord William.

       Ned, however, had returned with no swagger at all.  Ned had returned married, entrapped by those coils laid by British maidens for wealthy colonial bachelors, the very coils that Tommy had managed to avoid. Anne who doted on her youngest brother did not speak of it, not even to me, but, Charles Town being Charles Town, everyone knew before the week was out.  As for Ned, he left within days to go north to join the Continental Army and left the swaggering to his two older brothers. . . . . 

         "Maybe she truly loves him."

       Anne's tearful, deep-set eyes did indeed glare at me. "She truly loves his money! Twice she has requested it for her passage, and twice she has found she cannot come after all. But she can go to the south of France on holiday. Oh, Peggy, it is shameful the way the British use us as if we were mere household utilities."

       I could only hold her hand and listen.  It occurred to me that obviously Ned had reason to believe the child was his.  I could scarcely approve of that. Nor was I well impressed that, no sooner was the ceremony done than Ned sailed alone for America.  But I would never make such comments to Anne. Ned was her beloved brother, and she was loyal to him. In fact, since the day that Ned departed, we did not discuss it again.    

          Charles Town, however, discussed it for weeks. . . . . .

       Tommy Lynch was one of the few who regarded the news about Ned as sad and understandable.

       "In London," he told us as Lavinia poured tea and gazed at her round reflection in the silver teapot, "there are many young ladies whose notion of their own charms far exceeds the appreciation of them by young British gentlemen of wealth.  So the ladies seek an ignorant colonial, once they determine he is wealthy.  . . . .In fairness, when it comes to the English ladies and their designs, we colonials bear our share of the blame. We fancy ourselves superior to British men, more straightforward in our speech, more bold in pursuing our passions. We are easily deluded that women find us more attractive than the bland Brit. Hence, they delude us with our own delusion."

       Elisabeth smiled at Tommy. "But not you who has the wit to see through their deceits."

     "I have the advantage, my darling wife, of being an ordinary sort of fellow."

       "You are not!" exclaimed Elisabeth. "You are the dearest, best man in the world."

       "In your eyes, and I thank God for that."

      They gazed a moment at each other. I tactfully sipped my tea, happy that I was so included in their lives that we could speak openly of matters that I would hesitate to discuss even with my family.  

      Suddenly Tommy realized I was still there. He left off gazing at Elisabeth and resumed his explanation.

       "You see, Peggy, when a young lady sighs and bends as if overcome by her attraction to me, I tend to suspect the veracity of it. Ned, on the other hand, is a handsome fellow who carries himself well in society."

       "Vanity," I allowed, "is a fearsome failing."

     Tommy frowned, very serious. "It is not vanity, Peggy. Merely experience.  We see the world as we experience it. Many young women have found Ned attractive and have not hidden the fact. That has been his experience, so he is not as quick to suspect." 

       I wished that Anne might hear this conversation. She would have been grateful to Tommy. I never mentioned it, of course, because I would not want Anne to think I had been discussing her brother's affairs with such intimacy, but in a way I wished I could. She heard so much vicious gossip about Ned's misfortune that Tommy's understanding would have been a balm for her wounded heart.

       As for Sarah Izzard's wounded heart, it now faced the enraged colonial authorities bent on confiscating all that she, as Lord William's wife, possessed. The night before I returned to Mayfield to breathe healthier air during the fever season, Sarah snuck out of her house with as many of her furnishings as she could manage and joined Lord William on the warship. We heard that Lord William threatened to turn the cannons of the Tamar and the Cherokee on Charles Town, but our cannon batteries at Fort Johnson dissuaded him. 

     "They say Lord William has sailed for Jamaica," announced my brother Martin, back at Mayfield after his bi-monthly drill with the regiment.

         "And poor Sarah with him," said my mother.

      "What other recourse did she have?" cried my brother Michael. "She is his wife. A sacred bond."

       I smiled at my brother with his straightforward view of the world. I wondered what he thought of the sacred bonds of those who found themselves entrapped as Ned Forsythe had been. I thought it made for an interesting argument, whether a bond was sacred when it had been contrived by a dishonest party. But that was only a philosophical argument. Perhaps even theological.

       In the vengeful opinion of good society, it was no argument at all.

Peggy's actual home is not in town with her Aunt Polly but on her parents' indigo plantation, Mayfield.

       I'm not sure exactly how old I was, perhaps about ten or perhaps younger, when I realized that my mother did not want her children with her at Mayfield. There was nothing wrong with Mayfield. It was a most pleasant plantation not far from Georgetown on Winyah Bay and in excellent good company, surrounded by Marions and Horrys and Lynches and a bit beyond by Pinckneys. Our neighbors were not only some of the finest, and the nicest, families in the colony. Several were double neighbors because most had other plantations clustered to the south around Goose Creek.

     We left in late August because that was when the fever season began. Mother had to retrieve us from town or be criticized as an indifferent mother. Criticism from society did not suit her at all. So every year by early September the three of us had returned to Mayfield.

       "My dear children!" Mother would greet us, kissing each of us on the cheek in turn. "How I have missed you!" I'm not sure we were ever so young that we believed her. . . . . . . .

      Every year, as soon as Christmas was done, we returned to town. Mother kissed us good-bye and told each of us, "It is so good to have the family together for the holidays."   Then off we went, leaving her to enjoy a life that suited her better. We were quite accustomed.

     I'm not sure Miracle, who attended me and did up my curls with her deft fingers, ever became accustomed to it.  For one thing, at Mayfield Miracle was the only young female slave. Mother had only male slaves and old women so as not to put temptation in the path of her sons.  It seemed to me rather silly since my brothers saw the world along such a straight and narrow path.  Dalliance with a slave girl, however pretty, simply did not occur along the straight and narrow. Then again, perhaps my brothers were as they were because in their younger years my mother had always taken care not to put temptations in their way.  

     I suspected, without ever asking, that she feared on one of these visits she would be transferred into fieldwork or kitchen work, and she much preferred being a personal maid. She lived better and dressed better in town where she had friends in all the nearby houses and where the possibility always existed of encountering attractive young males.

       On Mayfield half of the male slaves were rented only for harvest when the leaves had to be stripped and readied for the vats.   Every year our father had to negotiate for them with someone whose business it was to rent out slaves. Once in a while, if the harvest was running behind by the time we arrived from Charles Town, Miracle had been set to stripping leaves. She didn't mind for a few days, and she didn't mind working for Thaddeus. But indigo harvest was not the work she wanted, and living on a plantation was not the life she wanted. Mayfield for her was an exile.

      Thaddeus understood that and never asked for her for very long, even if he could have used her help. He was a tall, muscular man very proud of his mastery of indigo fermentation. A quiet, sober man, his hair and beard had begun to turn gray around the mahogany hue of his face. Thaddeus supervised the crux of indigo processing, the vats, all three banks of them, with the help of his son Owen. I liked seeing them together, for the one looked like a young version of the other.

    In 1776 war is imminent.   Some people leave for their plantations, others come into town so as not to be stranded and defenseless on their plantations.   Among those who come to town is Peggy's mother, to the general discomfort of all.   

     "I can't believe he's coming back," Anne told me. "To return here where tongues still wag about his stupidity. Deliberate jibes made about the wonderfully eligible young women available, but not to married men. He is so good-hearted, Peggy. He would never gloat over another's misfortune. He did not realize how many others would."

       "He was once very popular," I said carefully. "No doubt the men are glad he is out of the race." 

     "Ha!" snorted Anne. "Teacup souls, Peggy. They are teacup souls. Well, I shall not go off and leave him to their good graces. Someone needs to stand by that poor boy. So come to tea any time at all, Peggy. I'll be right here."

       "Like the cannon defending the Battery."

       Anne gave a sharp nod of her head. "Exactly like that!" Her strong jaw tightened and those deep-set eyes glared. I pitied the poor teacup soul who had a word to say against Edward "Ned" Forsythe within earshot of his sister Anne. . . . . 

       Mortified? The glaring, tight-jawed cannon standing firm to defend her youngest brother?

       I smiled. "I have no idea."

       Marcus drove me over to Anne's, and before I got out of the carriage, I saw Ned Forsythe coming out the front door. I had remembered him as being handsome. He certainly was, impressively so. Such a clean-lined face, such honest, open eyes. He was also impressively martial in his Continental captain's uniform.  I felt the pang of sorrow Anne must feel, her brother whose future had promised so much tied for life to a scheming Brit.

       "Drive around the block, Marcus," I said.

        Marcus nodded. "Very thoughtful, Miss Peggy."

     He understood in that disquieting way slaves had, which meant that he knew the gossip. But he approved of my decision. It is not quite so disquieting to be too well understood if it goes hand in hand with approval.

Inevitably war does come to CharlesTown as British ships attack in late June of 1776. And just as inevitably, Peggy and Ned Forsythe most inconveniently fall in love as war rages around them.