Washington's Lady Read Online Free PDF

manner.
    Although my friends and family had introduced me to dozens of eligibles who, in theory, might have been perfect for me, I had no interest in any of them. I owed it to Daniel to marry prudently, to someone who would appreciate, not decimate, his family fortune. And I owed it to myself to marry someone my own age, someone I could love and adore, someone I could partner with in every way. Someone who could give me my own new babies to love.
    I sat at the desk once again, the papers of the estate before me. Yes, I was weary of handling everything alone. Yes, I longed for the companionship and mere conversation of a man I could love. It was lonely here at White House. I was surrounded by my children and servants, but with Daniel gone there was no adult to talk with, to confide in, to advise me.
    Yes, I was ready to marry. But not to just anyone. The right one. I prayed God—I trusted God—would bring him to me.
    Soon.
    *****
    I was more than happy to attend the afternoon social at the Chamberlaynes’ home. The Chamberlaynes were dear friends. Richard and his wife, Mary, lived at Poplar Grove, just west of White House. Richard’s brother Edward and his wife, Rebecca, also lived on the property, as did their sister Elizabeth, who, though twenty-three, was still unmarried. I had gone to school with Elizabeth and her sister Anne. Alas, Anne had died in childbirth two years previous. In an irony of our little community, a year later my dearest sister, Anna Maria (whom I called Nancy) married Anne’s widower. I had not been able to attend their wedding, as I had just given birth to my Patsy, but their marriage further bound our two families. And because of this bond, I was eager for both me and the children to be in the presence of such lifelong acquaintances and their guests.
    The family home at Poplar Grove (and a large warehouse on the property) was faced with a brick that always impressed me with its permanence and stability. It was so different from the white clapboard used on my childhood home at Chestnut Grove and our current home at White House. The brick laughed at our Virginia’s variable weather. Even though it was a more expensive prospect due to the labor-intensive work of the brickmaking, there were obviously advantages, to say nothing of the status of owning a brick home. Six Chimneys in Williamsburg was made of brick . . .
    My thoughts soon left issues of architecture and genealogy behind as we were enveloped in the hospitality of our neighbours. In the warm springtime, all the children ran off to play as we adults enjoyed some refreshing lemonade and animated conversation. For a while I was able to forget the dictates and responsibilities of White House and just be a young woman. It was a joy I thoroughly embraced.
    But then an unexpected visitor came to call. I had met the dapper Colonel Washington at various soirees in Williamsburg and, of course, had heard tales of his heroism fighting the French and Indians out west. Those western borders were held precariously. I had heard Daniel speak of horrendous violations endured by many of the brave settlers. I had also read portions of a journal Colonel Washington had written about his exploits. Apparently it had been published on both continents.
    We gathered in the foyer to receive this new guest. I had not remembered him to be quite so striking. He stood well over six feet, towering over me and the other ladies—and even most of the men. His torso was sturdy, his hands and feet enormous. His hair held a reddish cast and was pulled into a ribbon. His nose was large, his eyes a pale blue. The only weakness about him was his face, which was a bit gaunt and pale as though he may have been ill of late, and scarred, most likely from a bout of the smallpox.
    “I am so sorry to intrude, Richard,” he said to our host. “But when Bishop and I found ourselves at William’s Ferry, I thought of you and . . .”
    Richard patted him on the back. “You came to