ã€ŠDefying Conventionsã€‹


 Prologue

    PROLOGUE

    Richmond, Virginia

    January 1787

    Some sort of pneumonia was sure to be the culprit at this point in the winter, Doctor James McClurg mused, as he bundled up warmly for the short walk that lay ahead of him. It had not been long since he had moved his medical practice to Richmond, but he was already one of the most sought after doctors in the bustling capital of the Commonwealth. The messenger boy had arrived before the sun, so he decided against waking his wife to tell her he was going out to tend to a patient. Closing the door as quietly as possible he was met by a blast of freezing air. Yesterday¡¯s rain was sure to have turned to ice in many spots, so he stepped carefully in the early morning semi dark.

    Not more than a few steps from his own front door, his thoughts drifted from the task at hand to the duties that faced him later that year. He had been just as surprised as anyone to be asked to represent Virginia at the upcoming convention in Philadelphia. Regardless of whether he felt as well-versed in political matters as some of the other men who would be at the convention, he felt a sense of duty toward Virginia, and so had accepted. Whether he would be ready to offer a significant contribution, however, was something that weighed heavily on his mind. ¡°Medicine and the science that supports it are entirely different matters from the world of politics,¡± he had told his wife. She reassured him that the same intellect that equipped him to effectively treat the maladies of his patients could surely equip him to diagnose and treat the maladies of their fledgling nation.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    It was at that point in his recollection of their conversation that he felt his left foot start to slip out from under him. Lost in thought, he had not been as careful about ice patches as he ought to have been and he gasped at what was sure to be a nasty fall.

    ¡°Watch out, sir!¡± cried a voice from just behind him. A strong hand gripped his arm, steadying him, and saving him from the serious injury that had only an instant before flashed in his mind¡¯s eye.

    Doctor McClurg turned to see his savior and thank him, but by the time he did so, the man was already on his way in the other direction. He offered nothing more than a flick of the wrist in acknowledgement when the doctor shouted ¡°Thank you, young man!¡± At least, he had thought the man was young; it was hard to tell as he disappeared into one of the many early morning shadows.

    He paused only briefly to reflect on just how fortunate he had been for someone to be within arm¡¯s distance at that precise moment, but then continued his trek to see his ailing patient. Remembering at what point of his recollection he had left off, it occurred to him that in his haste, he had left his medical bag back in his office. He had told his wife that he wished that in the same way the helpful instruments he had for treating diseases could be packed in a small bag, that he could likewise take with him to Philadelphia a bag of instruments for treating the nation. He did not consider himself a poet by any means, but he had been proud of coming up with the metaphor on the spot. In any event, he would have to go back and get his bag.

    Having once again become lost to his own thoughts, the doctor did not hear the crescendo of hoofbeats. He turned back in the direction of his own home and his vision--the last sight he remembered--was filled with a team of horses drawing a cart, furiously bearing down right on top of him. After that, all was dark.

 Chapter 1

    As he approached the city, Camden Page hardly noticed the last feeble rays of the winter sun clinging to the rooftops of Richmond. Thanks to the winter storm of the previous week, the roads between here and his home in New Kent County were all but impassable. Stopping at the crest of a small rise, he cupped his hands to his mouth, hoping his breath would provide one last puff of warmth to his aching fingers. He urged his horse on, desperate to reach his destination and the promise of a warm bed. Every minute he spent out in the bitter and deepening cold seemed an hour to him, but the impending close of his journey and the well-paved city streets lifted his spirits.

    Arriving at the house of Joseph Randolph--a modest two-story home with a bright green door--Camden tied up his horse and attempted to remove as much dust and dirt from himself as he could, before climbing the stairs to the front porch and rapping the simple, brass door knocker.

    The man who answered the door was tall--taller even than Camden himself--and rather slender. ¡°Good evening,¡± he said, peering over a pair of half-moon spectacles. ¡°You must be young master Page. Do come in, please.¡±

    The man stepped back, allowing the door to swing fully open and Camden stepped into a sort of foyer stocked with seats and benches of various descriptions, a mode of furnishing he concluded must be ordinary for the house of an attorney such as Mr. Randolph, who no doubt must sometimes keep a number of clients waiting. However, his attention was quickly drawn to the room to his right, from whence came the warm light of a fire. It was to that room, thankfully, that the man directed him.

    ¡°Will Mr. Randolph have retired for the evening already?¡± Camden asked.

    ¡°What?¡± the man replied. ¡°Oh, no, of course not.¡± He took a pipe from a small table next to one of the chairs near the fireplace and puffed once or twice before seeming to interrupt his own thoughts.

    ¡°Oh dear, I have forgotten to introduce myself, haven¡¯t I? Silly of me. I am Joseph Randolph.¡± He then extended his hand, and mentor and apprentice shared their first handshake.

    ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to finally meet you in person, Mr. Randolph.¡±

    ¡°That is quite a grip you have there, Mr. Page.¡±

    Camden hesitated, unsure whether the remark was meant as a compliment or as merely an observation that his rural upbringing was obvious to everyone.

    ¡°You won¡¯t find much use for large, strong hands in the legal profession, naturally, but the experience of having had to work with your hands will serve you well in the future. Have no doubt about that.¡±

    Camden did have his doubts, but kept them to himself. His first impression of Mr. Randolph was that he was altogether a different sort of man than he had ever known. Thinning, sandy-colored hair swept across his head and behind the spectacles sat pale green eyes that gave life to an otherwise average face. Average, that is, except for a rather prominent chin, which Camden had already noticed Mr. Randolph tended to jut out when he was talking. Were he to draw himself up to his full height, Camden was sure Mr. Randolph would be the tallest man in the room at the moment. However, while Camden¡¯s broad shoulders acted as yet another clue to his rude beginnings, Mr. Randolph hunched noticeably.

    ¡°Are you hungry?¡±

    Camden was positively famished, but did not think it would do to begin his apprenticeship by devouring anything he could put his hands on in front of Mr. Randolph.

    ¡°Yes, I would much appreciate some nourishment, sir, if you please.¡±

    ¡°Well, we had expected you rather a bit earlier, so dinner was already served. Before Mary left I had her make up a plate for you and leave it in your room upstairs, which you¡¯ll find at the first door on your left. I shan¡¯t keep you down here when I know you must be weary from your journey. I have some papers to look over in my study--just across the hall, there--so I will see you in the morning. I¡¯ll also send for someone from the livery yard to come for your horse. We¡¯ll start first thing tomorrow, so be ready by seven sharp. Good night, Mr. Page.¡±

    ¡°Good night, Mr. Randolph, and thank you.¡±

    Mr. Randolph took with him one of the candles from the mantle and disappeared into his study, which for all that Camden could see in the dimly-lit house, could just as well have been a cave. He trudged carefully upstairs and let himself into his room, at first startled at the creak of the hinges, until he remembered that he and Mr. Randolph were the only people in the house. He slipped out of his boots and left them in the corner behind the door, telling himself that he would sit and rest his feet for just a few minutes before eating. Before he could give the food much thought, however, he had fallen asleep, still in his traveling clothes.

    Camden awoke the next morning with a start, realizing that he had slept where he had fallen, as if he had been a soldier collapsing after a forced march. He peered carefully out into the hallway, catching a glimpse of the clock in the hall, relieved that he had somehow not overslept. He would have just enough time to change his clothes and wash sufficiently to make himself modestly, if not perfectly, presentable. He selected a plain, black suit from the wardrobe--the new clothes provided by Mr. Randolph--wetted down his hair and made his way to the stairs.

    Having grown up on his uncle¡¯s farm, he was not sure what to expect in being apprenticed to an attorney--one of Richmond¡¯s most respected attorneys, in fact--but nothing could have prepared him for the sight that met him when the bench at the bottom of the stairs, directly across from Mr. Randolph¡¯s study, came into view.

    Seated there, with a small stack of books balanced on the neatly arranged folds of her dress, was a young woman. Camden judged her to be about his same age and as he reached the last step she met his gaze. He felt his face flush red, embarrassed at the thought that she might believe him to be staring. Though how he could possibly have kept himself from staring at such beauty, he could not grasp.

    ¡°Pardon me, Miss, I--¡± was all he could manage to sputter before Mr. Randolph and another man emerged from the office. Camden knew he should feel relieved that this stranger had saved him from an unchaperoned exchange with this young woman to whom he had not been introduced, but at the same time he found himself strangely disappointed that the moment had not been allowed to continue.

    ¡°Ah, Mr. Page! I¡¯m glad you¡¯re downstairs a little early.¡± Mr. Randolph beckoned for Camden to come all the way down to the landing. ¡°Governor Henry, please allow me to introduce Mr. Camden Page who is to be my new apprentice.¡±

    In spite of his awe, Camden managed to extend his hand and say, ¡°Governor Henry, it¡¯s an honor to meet you, sir.¡± Merely being in the same room with a figure as famous as Patrick Henry was more than Camden had thought he had any right to expect. He thought to himself that he had not realized just how well-respected and connected Mr. Randolph was until just now.

    ¡°I¡¯m pleased to meet you as well, Mr. Page. Although, I must insist that just ¡®Mr. Henry¡¯ will do from now on. I know that will be a hard habit for your mentor to break, but if he is to teach you anything about the law, you must teach him to treat an old friend like an old friend. I expect you to do the same, Ms. Burwell,¡± he said, nodding in the direction of the young woman.

    ¡°Yes, of course, Mr. Henry,¡± she replied, returning the former governor¡¯s pleasant smile with one of her own.

    Mr. Henry took his overcoat from Mr. Randolph and began to pull it on. ¡°If you¡¯ll excuse me Mr. Page and Ms. Burwell, I would be most delighted to stay and talk, but I have business to attend to before leaving Richmond. Good day to you all.¡±

    With that, Mr. Henry was gone almost as quickly as Camden had seen him come and he was left standing in the front room with Mr. Randolph and the lovely creature he now knew only as ¡°Ms. Burwell.¡± She rose from the bench and crossed the short distance between the bench and the door to Mr. Randolph¡¯s study, extending the stack of books as she came.

    ¡°I¡¯ve just come to return these, Uncle, but I won¡¯t tarry if you and--Mr. Page, was it?--have business to attend to.¡±

    Her voice, thought Camden, perfectly suited her. She remained in her overcoat, the front room not being very well-insulated from the crisp January air outside. Nevertheless, Camden was struck by what visible signs of her youthful beauty displayed themselves. Although no one tended to show much color in the winter, Camden could tell that even at the height of summer she would have a fair complexion. Her light brown hair was done simply, combed back and parted in the middle, with a single curl which hung over her right shoulder.

    ¡°No, my dear, you needn¡¯t be in any hurry to leave,¡± Mr. Randolph said. ¡°Georgiana, this is my apprentice, Mr. Camden Page. He arrived only just yesterday evening shortly after dinner.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Page,¡± Georgiana offered. She extended a gloved hand which Camden nervously but gladly accepted. ¡°My uncle has been telling my family about you for months, it seems. Was your journey to Richmond a pleasant one? I know the weather has not been the best in recent days.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Miss Burwell. The journey was about as I expected it would be.¡± It was, as Camden would not soon forget, a rather unpleasant journey, but that was what he had been expecting.

    ¡°Ah, you¡¯ll do well, indeed, Mr. Page. That¡¯s precisely the sort of answer I¡¯d expect an attorney to give,¡± she said, with a sparkle in her eye, more playful than malevolent.

    ¡°You must forgive my niece, Mr. Page. She has a habit of teasing, even with those to whom she has only just been introduced. I believe there were some other books you had your eye on, Georgiana? Why don¡¯t we all go into the study where it¡¯s a bit warmer.¡±

    The trio stepped through the doors and into Mr. Randolph¡¯s cavernous study, where a fire blazed in the far corner, heating the whole room to almost an intolerable heat.

    Georgiana removed her overcoat and draped it over the arm of a high-backed leather chair that sat facing Mr. Randolph¡¯s desk. Under it she wore a simple, dark blue dress of a style Camden was sure he had never seen before. His home of New Kent County, though not so far from Richmond, was still behind the times, it seemed, when it came to women¡¯s fashions. It was very flattering to her figure, Camden thought, which he regarded as neither overly petite nor plump. The rich hue of the dress also seemed to highlight the color of her eyes, which seemed blue at one moment, but more green when she stepped into a certain light. He watched as she walked over to a shelf in the corner farthest from the fire, but averted his gaze lest he be caught staring a second time in as many minutes.

    ¡°One of them was over here, wasn¡¯t it, Uncle? You really must let me organize your library better than this. It would be no trouble at all.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I suppose that would be fine, but at the moment I know where everything is.¡± Mr. Randolph strode over to where his niece was scanning the shelves, quickly spotted a volume, and pulled it from the shelf--a shelf only he was tall enough to reach in any event. ¡°This was it, wasn¡¯t it? Pamela? I could have sworn I¡¯ve lent you that one before, haven¡¯t I?¡±

    ¡°Indeed, Uncle. But is any book really worth reading that isn¡¯t worth reading again and again?¡±

    Camden thought that observation rang true to his experience. He assumed he had had access to far fewer books than she as a child and young person, but nevertheless, there were those few volumes that he treasured above all the others and never tired of revisiting.

    ¡°I suppose I had never thought of it that way,¡± said Mr. Randolph, settling in at the chair behind the desk. ¡°Those are for you as well.¡± He gestured toward two books stacked on one corner of the massive work space.

    Camden, now seated in the other chair facing the desk, took notice of the titles: one was a volume of a translation of Plato¡¯s Republic while the other was a title he did not recognize, A Divine and Supernatural Light by Jonathan Edwards. Having read parts of the Republic for himself, Camden was somewhat surprised to see a young lady interested in such heavy reading, especially after having selected such lighter fare as one of Mr. Richardson¡¯s novels. Whether he had made a facial expression he did not know, but he must not have been as successful as he had hoped in hiding his reaction.

    Georgiana cocked her head slightly. ¡°Does it surprise you that a lady would borrow books of theology and political philosophy, Mr. Page?¡±

    Caught off guard by such a seemingly accusatory question, Camden stammered for an answer.

    ¡°Why . . . well, no . . . I suppose not, Miss Burwell. I must admit I found Plato to be rather a difficult task to read and comprehend, so much so that it would surprise me at least a little bit to see anyone reading it, man or woman.¡±

    ¡°I see. So you too are a student of political philosophy and theology then?¡±

    ¡°A self-educated one, I suppose, yes. At least, that is, with respect to politics. My grasp of theology is probably limited to what I have gleaned from the services my aunt and uncle insisted that I attend as a child.¡±Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    ¡°You have no interest in the teachings of the Bible, then?¡±

    ¡°No, I would not say--¡±

    Here, Mr. Randolph chuckled and interjected. ¡°Georgiana, you cross examine a witness better than half the attorneys I see in court, but must you do it to my new apprentice on the very first day of his legal career?¡±

    ¡°Oh, Uncle, Mr. Page took no offense, I am sure,¡± she almost sighed. ¡°Did you, Mr. Page?¡± She gazed at Camden expectantly, with a look that signalled to Camden that she knew he was in on the playful banter.

    ¡°No, of course not, Miss Burwell. I rather enjoy just this sort of lively conversation, the sort that is hard to come by in New Kent.¡± Here, Camden took a deep breath, and later could hardly believe that he had made his mouth form the words. ¡°Perhaps Plato is a topic we might discuss if I were to call on you and your family at some convenient time?¡± Whatever shock he might have initially felt at this young lady¡¯s forward manner and sharp wit, he could discern that that initial feeling was being replaced by something else, almost a feeling of admiration.

    Mr. Randolph made no visible reaction to Camden¡¯s remark, one that Camden instantly knew had probably crossed a social boundary he ought not have to have crossed. Georgiana smirked and raised an eyebrow, a movement so subtle that Camden might never have noticed it had he not been, in that moment, transfixed by every feature of her face.

    ¡°Well, Mr. Page, that is a rather intriguing proposition,¡± she said.

    She collected her books and slid around the side of the desk to where Mr. Randolph was seated. Due to the man¡¯s height, she did not have to bend at all in order to give him a kiss on the cheek. ¡°Good day, Uncle. These may take me some time, but I¡¯m sure we shall have you over for dinner long before then.¡± With that, she turned, collected her overcoat, and began to make her exit, depriving Camden of any clarification of her cryptic response to his request. ¡°Good day to you too, Mr. Page,¡± was all she said before letting herself back into the front room and then out the front door.

    Camden let out a deep sigh and collapsed back into his chair, unaware until that moment that he had been leaning forward on his toes. Whether he was lightheaded or only imagined it, he could not tell.

    Mr. Randolph had taken off his spectacles and was rubbing the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. ¡°Well, I don¡¯t believe you¡¯ve had any breakfast yet, have you? Why don¡¯t we see to that before we start on your work.¡±

    He abruptly rose from his chair and made his way toward the back of the house, where Mary--who Camden came to learn was the hired housekeeper and cook--had been keeping a modest breakfast warm for them. Camden rose much more slowly, afraid that his knees or feet or whole body might fail him, and followed his mentor, noticing for the first time, that the smell of sausage, bacon, and coffee had begun to fill the house.

    ¡°You must have the best cook in all of Richmond, Mr. Randolph. I don¡¯t believe I ever tasted a meal so delicious.¡±

    Mr. Randolph scratched lightly near his temple. ¡°Well, yes, Mary is quite good at what she does.¡± He reached for a pipe which sat behind him and began packing it with tobacco from a pouch he retrieved from one of the desk drawers.

    ¡°Now to the matter at hand. I¡¯m afraid the very first day of your apprenticeship will be a little unconventional. That¡¯s due in part to my earlier visitor, Mr. Henry. You see, Mr. Henry was asked to go to the upcoming Philadelphia convention as a delegate for Virginia. He declined that appointment, for reasons I will allow him to explain for himself, and a replacement was selected: one Dr. James McClurg. I can only assume you are not familiar with the doctor?¡±

    Mr. Randolph had phrased it as a question, but before Camden could even move his head to signal his ignorance of the doctor, Mr. Randolph had moved on with his discourse.

    ¡°In any event, it is my sad duty to report that Dr. McClurg was just yesterday morning very badly injured in a serious accident. His condition is grave and his chances of recovery very remote. His position at the convention in Philadelphia will have to be filled by someone else. It was that topic that Mr. Henry came to discuss with me. Do you understand why there is to be a convention in Philadelphia?¡±

    Camden now realized just how isolated the rural farming community of his upbringing was. On most market days there were newspapers from Richmond available, but those were often days--and more often weeks--old by the time anyone in New Kent could get them. Even then, if his duties on the farm kept him there on market day, it could be months between his seeing any news. He was, however, aware of the convention, if not completely sure of its purpose or intent.

    ¡°I believe, sir, that the convention has been called in order to propose changes to the American confederation, our system of government.¡± Camden was sure that that answer was incomplete, but could think of nothing better to say.

    ¡°That¡¯s more or less correct, yes,¡± Mr. Randolph said, to Camden¡¯s relief. ¡°The convention, however, is destined to be much more complicated than most people are likely aware.¡±

    Camden was a little puzzled by his mentor¡¯s assessment, but decided that it would be better to save his questions until after Mr. Randolph had finished.

    ¡°I¡¯ll have some reading for you to start on later today, but for now, I need you to deliver these books and this note. The address is just there,¡± he said, gesturing to the outside of the sealed letter, ¡°but all you need do is go out the front door, turn left and find the house on the corner of the third street in that direction. The lady of the house will admit you if you tell her that I sent you. You are to wait for a reply.¡±

    It was not long before he had reached and was admitted to a three-story house, one that appeared somewhat older than the rest of those on the street, and was greeted by a rotund woman wearing an apron.

    ¡°I am to tell the lady of the house that Mr. Joseph Randolph sent me,¡± he told her.

    ¡°Ah. Right this way, then.¡± She led him up the stairs and knocked lightly on one of the doors. Camden was mildly surprised by this, having supposed that it was the lady herself to whom he was supposed to deliver Mr. Randolph¡¯s articles.

    The man who answered the knock was, in many ways, a mirror image of the young man who had come there to meet him. He was every bit as tall as Camden and similarly broad in the shoulders, though not in quite the same way one might have expected from someone like Camden who had been raised in a life full of manual labor. Wide-set, blue-gray eyes failed to draw attention from his dimpled chin and large nose.

    ¡°Colonel Monroe, this young man says he¡¯s been sent over by Mr. Randolph.¡±

    ¡°I was not expecting any message from Mr. Randolph. I¡¯m sure it must be important, however.¡±

    Camden retrieved the letter from the pocket inside his overcoat and handed them over along with the books. ¡°I am instructed to wait for a reply, sir.¡±

    ¡°Please, come in then and have a seat.¡± Monroe stepped back from the door and gestured for Camden to enter.

    The room was furnished plainly, but more than adequately. In fact, it was not merely a room, but a small suite. Camden had been admitted to what seemed to be doubling as an office and a sitting room, with a desk opposite the door. He sat on the edge of the only other chair in the room, not knowing exactly how long it would take for the awaited reply to be drafted.

    Monroe strode to the other side of the desk and retrieved a letter opener, carefully undoing the seal. ¡°My name is James Monroe,¡± he finally offered, after opening the letter and surveying the titles of the books. ¡°I assume you are in Mr. Randolph¡¯s employment in some capacity?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir. I am Camden Page and have only just this morning begun my apprenticeship with Mr. Randolph.¡± Unsure what else to say, Camden remained silent. If his days were now to be filled with meeting such consequential figures as Patrick Henry and the war hero James Monroe, he was not sure that he would ever learn how to be at ease as Mr. Randolph¡¯s apprentice. Before long, Monroe had taken a piece of paper, dipped his quill and penned his reply.

    ¡°Here¡¯s your reply, young man. And if I may offer a word of advice regarding your apprenticeship?¡±

    ¡°Yes, please, Colonel Monroe.¡±

    At that formal address, Monroe half-suppressed a smile which seemed to say that he would prefer to shed the honorific due to him for his service in the militia.

    ¡°Having had the opportunity to meet him in the course of my own education under the tutelage of Mr. Jefferson, I can say that Mr. Joseph Randolph is, without a doubt, one of the very finest attorneys in Virginia. When it comes to a legal education, you surely cannot do much better and you should count yourself very fortunate to be under his guidance. Attend to him with diligence and you will be very well prepared for the legal profession.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, sir. I will do my best.¡±

    Camden placed Monroe¡¯s letter in his coat pocket where the other had been and then slowly rose to leave.

    ¡°Good day to you, Mr. Page. Perhaps we will have occasion to deepen our acquaintance at some point in the future. Come. I¡¯ll see you out.¡±

    ¡°My new apprentice was delighted with your cooking, Mary.¡±

    ¡°Oh, thank you sir. Please tell him thank you for me. I was just going to dust and straighten up in here a bit, if you please.¡± She stood, duster in hand, just inside the doorway, awaiting his response.

    Without turning his head or diverting his eyes, Mr. Randolph did a mental inspection of the study. There was a bit of clutter here and there, but not nearly so much as he allowed to accumulate before tidying up was required. He seemed to remember that Mary had dusted the study not that long ago, certainly not so long ago that more dusting was required this morning. The real reason for her visit was quite apparent to Mr. Randolph, but he decided not to let on--at least not yet.

    ¡°Certainly, Mary. Come in.¡±

    He pretended to go back to the papers he had been examining, waiting to see how she would broach the topic. Mary could barely read, but Mr. Randolph had found her to be just as insightful and clever as any of the women at the fashionable dinner parties to which he was invited. He admired her restraint as she straightened books and dusted cabinets, being careful not to give the slightest indication that she was biding her time. Some of his acquaintances and relatives surely would have thought a servant impertinent to expect to be engaged in conversation by their employer, but Mr. Randolph had never thought so. It had taken Mary some time to adjust to his way of doing things, but he could tell that she was now comfortable talking with him, albeit still very circumspect about how and when to do so.

    ¡°Was that your beautiful niece I heard come in earlier this morning, Mr. Randolph?¡± she finally ventured.

    Mr. Randolph knew that she already knew the answer to that question. Georgiana had been a regular visitor in his house since she was a young girl and he was certain that Mary could have distinguished his niece¡¯s opening and shutting of the door just as easily as her voice. He played along with the ruse, however.

    ¡°Why yes, it was Georgiana. She had stopped by to exchange some books.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that Miss Burwell always seems to have her nose in a book. Not all men like that, you know. But she is so very pretty and kind, that perhaps it won¡¯t matter much when the time comes. Did she happen to meet Mr. Page while she was here?¡±

    Once again, Mr. Randolph was sure that Mary already knew the answer to the question. His was not a small home, but a conversation in the front room and study could be overheard without much difficulty from down the hall and Mary seemed to have especially keen hearing when it came to topics that might fulfill her appetite for a tidbit of gossip.

    ¡°Yes, I did introduce the two of them briefly before Georgiana made her departure.¡± He was content to let that statement hang in the air for a bit and see where she would go next.

    ¡°Hmm,¡± was all she seemed to have to say in reply. Although her back was turned as she placed some books on the shelf to the right of the door, he spied a slight alteration in her body language.

    She clicked her tongue as if to change the topic. ¡°Now, what was the name of that gentleman who was here for Christmas dinner? The tall one with the curly black hair?¡±

    Mr. Randolph knew, of course, that this was not really a change in the topic, but rather Mary¡¯s attempt to approach the same topic from a different angle. The man was a young planter of considerable means who had been invited to Christmas dinner by Mr. Randolph¡¯s sister, Elizabeth, with the hope that a match could be made between him and Georgiana. Although he could not presently recall how, dinner conversation had turned to politics. Georgiana not only contradicted the proud young man--who was, Mr. Randolph firmly believed, clearly on the wrong side of the issue--but she so utterly dismantled his line of argument that Mr. Randolph was amazed the man had not collected his coat and left the party immediately. He was, perhaps, too proud for that and too well-mannered. Elizabeth and her husband James (recently elected to the Virginia Senate) were mortified at their daughter¡¯s behavior. Aside from the loss of potentially a financially advantageous match, Mr. Randolph was rather impressed with Georgiana¡¯s discourse. Her use of his library certainly had not gone to waste.

    ¡°That was Mr. Alton Carter, I believe.¡± Mary nodded her head as if in sudden recollection.

    Before she could go on, however, Mr. Randolph said ¡°Mary, I must tell you something.¡±

    She feigned an inquisitive look. ¡°What¡¯s that, Mr. Randolph, sir?¡±

    ¡°You must know that there almost certainly will never be a match between Mr. Page and Miss Burwell.¡±

    Mary drew in a breath, as if she were preparing to convey the appropriate degree of surprise that Mr. Randolph would assume she should have been showing regarding that question.

    ¡°You need not act surprised, Mary. You know that I keep very little that goes on in this house secret from you. What I¡¯m sure you heard in their voices, I no less clearly saw in their eyes. The thought of my dearly beloved niece and the son of my most dearly beloved friend finding happiness in each other thrills me beyond words. But you must know that Senator Burwell will never consent to it. One day, perhaps, Mr. Page¡¯s prospects may rise above his current station, but my sister¡¯s husband is not likely to wait that long.¡±

    He drew in and then let out a deep breath.

    ¡°It will be best for all of us if we put the idea out of our heads now, rather than later after that seed of initial hope has blossomed into something more.¡±

    Mary¡¯s body language had changed yet again. She drooped in resignation, although she tried her hardest not to show it.

    ¡°I suppose you¡¯re right, sir. I¡¯ll attend to my other duties now, if I may be dismissed.¡±

    Mr. Randolph nodded in reply and looked down at his papers again, although his thoughts lingered elsewhere.

    Edward Page, Camden¡¯s father, had been not only his closest friend, but also his business partner. When Rebekah died in giving birth to Camden, the friends were both stricken with grief, but no husband ever more so than Edward had been. Within a matter of weeks the new father had come down with a terrible fever and joined his young bride in the hereafter. That was how Camden had come to be raised by his mother¡¯s sister and her husband, the child¡¯s only living relatives. Mr. Randolph would gladly have raised the boy as his own, but concluded that a bachelor attorney with a growing law practice was hardly equipped for such an important task.

    Despite the distance between them, he had kept a watch over the boy¡¯s upbringing and, by all accounts, he had matured into a fine young man, physically rather imposing thanks to hard work on his uncle¡¯s land, but also well-read, owing to the steady supply of books provided by Mr. Randolph himself. When he told Mary that a match between his new apprentice and his niece would please him greatly, he was entirely sincere. He and the young man had kept up a correspondence over the past year and he had, Mr. Randolph believed, proven himself to have developed many of his father¡¯s admirable qualities that had bound the former friends together in this life. The one thing the young Mr. Page lacked in this life to meet with the approval of James Burwell was social station. A remarkable young woman like Georgiana deserved an equally remarkable husband, but Camden was a newly-arrived farm boy lacking the sort of formal education Senator Burwell might have valued and without any inheritance to speak of.

    His recent election to the Virginia Senate signaled that James Burwell was a man of influence who intended to cultivate and increase that influence. A son in law who was nothing more than an apprentice to an attorney--albeit one of the most respected attorneys in Richmond, if not the entire Commonwealth of Virginia--would provide him no advantage in either politics or business. It was a shame that a young man as promising as Camden would be dismissed without any real consideration because of the calculations of power, but he saw very little that could be done about it. He would have to break the news to his apprentice sooner rather than later, but he dreaded giving him such discouraging news, especially since he had left home and the only family he had ever known to come to Richmond. The young were resilient, however, and he assured himself that he would find a way to let Camden down that was both as honest and as gentle as possible.

 Chapter 2

    Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

    February 1787

    The Dancing Rooster was one of Nathaniel Aldridge¡¯s favorite places. The ale was weak and the food was too greasy, but there were many nooks and shadowy hollows where a man could savor his food unobserved--or while observing others, if the lighting was just right. This evening, Nathaniel--simply Nat to friends, if he had any--was doing the latter.

    His mark was now on his fourth mug of ale with a fifth on the way. Even with the watered down swill that they served at The Dancing Rooster, Nat could see that the man was already quite inebriated. That would only make his job that much easier.

    A few minutes after finishing his fifth mug of ale, the man decided that he had had enough and rose to leave--not before almost getting into a shouting match with the barkeep over whether he could keep drinking on credit. As he staggered toward the door, Nat drained the last of his own mug and rose just as the icy blast from the front door chilled the half-hidden booth where he had been sitting. The man passed closely enough for Nat to smell the ale all over him, but he was oblivious to everyone else in the world at that moment. As he exited, Nat followed.

    The man turned left just outside the door, nearly stumbling over a snowdrift that surely would have sent him flying head over heels. Having missed that opportunity to strike, Nat spied a dark alley a stone¡¯s throw ahead. A light wind muffled the sound of boots crunching in the snow, allowing him to follow completely unobserved, not that this drunkard would have noticed him anyway.

    As they approached the alley, Nat checked around them; there was not another soul in sight. Just as the man stepped past the mouth of the alley, Nat sprung into action. He took two quick steps into the street so that he could launch himself at the man from an angle. Plunging his shoulder into the man¡¯s side, just below the rib cage, it felt as if he might break the man in half, so severely did his body buckle. Nat¡¯s blow knocked the wind out of the man, preventing him from crying out, and he fell back into the alley in a heap. He immediately pounced, turning the man over on his stomach, pinning his arms underneath him, and forcing his face down into the snow.

    ¡°Who are you?¡± the man managed to gasp.

    Nat just pushed the man¡¯s face down a bit harder. ¡°I suppose I should be the one asking the questions, don¡¯t you?¡± The man groaned as Nat ground his knee into the small of the man¡¯s back. ¡°Now then, do you want to tell me where your purse is or shall I rummage through your pockets after a club to the head?¡±

    ¡°My right coat pocket,¡± the man managed to groan.

    Using his free hand, Nat reached into the man¡¯s coat and retrieved a billfold. Weighing it with his hand, he could tell it contained nothing but paper notes.

    ¡°No, that won¡¯t do. That won¡¯t do at all, sir. You know that your gambling debts were to be paid in coin.¡±

    ¡°Wait, if you just--¡± the man protested, but he did not finish the sentence. Nat retrieved his cudgel and rendered the man unconscious with a single blow. He rolled him over onto his side so that he would not drown in his own vomit and then searched the rest of his person. He found, in the left boot, a small purse; the clinking told him that he had found what he was looking for. He reached down and replaced the man¡¯s billfold. After all, Nat reminded himself, there were unscrupulous men about who might not be able to pass up the temptation of an unconscious man whose billfold is left lying in the open.

    A short walk later, Nat was back at his boarding house. Mrs. Daniels ran her establishment only marginally better than her competitors, but she had a soft spot for a veteran such as Nat and so let him pay the rent late every now and then. Perhaps most endearingly to Nat, she didn¡¯t ask too many questions about his comings and goings.

    He trudged up the stairs and let himself into his room, setting the purse on the table next to the solitary candle that provided him light and leaning his cane in the corner behind the door. The cane was purely for show--or for a weapon in a pinch. Nat found that a man with a limp and a cane could often go unnoticed where other men might be seen as a threat. He would do his work quickly and then snuff the candle out; each candle had to last as long as possible. Loosening the drawstrings on the purse, he gently emptied the contents onto the table. Sorting the coins was a task he completed in fairly short order--too short order, in fact. The scoundrel did not even have enough coin here to cover the gambling debts Nat had been hired to collect, let alone enough left over for Nat to collect his fee. He scraped the coins back into the purse and set it aside.

    He moved from the chair to his bed and removed his boots before putting out the candle. He wasn¡¯t particularly tired, but there wasn¡¯t all that much for him to do right now either. Before he reclined, however, he fumbled for the bottle of whiskey he had on the table and took a few hearty swallows. It warmed him as it made its way down and he set the bottle back in its place.

    Staring up into the dark he cursed his fate for having to go to the trouble of tracking down and accosting a man only to find out that the prospect of any sort of payment was exceedingly unlikely. The gentlemen for whom Nat typically performed these services could hardly be expected to acknowledge their gambling, let alone collect their own debts. A man such as Nat, however, could easily move in and out of all the disreputable places that they dare not be seen. It wasn¡¯t a terribly lucrative business, but most of the time it kept food in his belly, a roof over his head, and drink close at hand. Nat had come to accept that those few comforts were just about the best a war veteran had any right to expect from the country he had fought for.

    His ¡°business¡± tended to ebb and flow, but a recent bit of news gave him hope that there would be plenty of business to be had in a few months¡¯ time. The delegates to the convention would be arriving in late spring. Nat had no affection for politicians--and he was sure most of them would be politicians, probably of the worst sort--but many politicians tended to be men of no small means. It was those sort of men that tended also to get themselves into the sort of trouble that required his particular set of skills. So perhaps the cloud of politicians would come with a gilded edge.

    At that thought--one that passed for pleasant these days--he reached for the bottle once more, draining its contents, and slowly fell into a deep sleep.

    Services at the First Baptist Church began promptly at ten on Sunday morning. The new congregation could not boast the historical pedigree of a St. John¡¯s Episcopal Church, where Patrick Henry had given his rousing speech to the Second Virginia Convention--casting the choice between liberty or death--but despite his love of history, that fact was no impediment to Mr. Randolph¡¯s love for the church and its people. John Morris, their first pastor, had left to journey west, but in the interim, various men had taken to a rotating preaching schedule, among them Roger Clarence, who would preach today. Mr. Randolph knew that his new apprentice was bound to attend church somewhere--having promised his aunt as much--but it was his hope that in accompanying him to this church, and hearing the Gospel preached by Mr. Clarence, the young man would come to see church attendance not as a duty to be performed, but rather as an act of worship to be longed for.

    ¡°Is this it?¡± Camden asked him as they arrived.

    ¡°Yes. Until the congregation can purchase a building of its own we meet from home to home.¡±

    They were greeted at the front door by Mrs. Doolittle, the lady of the house, who welcomed them and directed them to the formal dining room where chairs had been arranged to face a makeshift pulpit area. A clock in the corner began to chime the hour and the congregation all stood. A man wearing an old-fashioned wig strode to the front and led the congregation in the Lord¡¯s Prayer. Mr. Randolph was sure that he had met the man before, but he could not immediately remember his name.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    Mr. Randolph overheard Camden reciting the words, but it seemed clear that a recitation was all that it was. From that point the service proceeded according to their usual order of things: a hymn, then a reading from Scripture, followed by another hymn, and then the sermon.

    Roger Clarence was a sawmill owner rather than a formally-trained minister. Theology and preaching were, he once told Mr. Randolph, his first calling but his second profession. To hear his sermons, however, no one would have supposed that to be the case.

    ¡°Continuing our study of the Apostle Paul¡¯s Epistle to the Romans, we come now to the thirteenth chapter. We read in the first seven verses as follows: ¡®Let every soul be subject unto the higher powers. For there is no power but of God: the powers that be are ordained of God.¡¯¡±

    Mr. Clarence continued reading, but Mr. Randolph was more interested in his apprentice in that moment. Whereas the service up to that point had seemed to be utterly uninteresting to Camden, now he seemed to be totally immersed in the sermon. Mr. Randolph supposed that that should not be so surprising, given the young man¡¯s interest in government and politics and the passage they were reading.

    ¡°. . . tribute to whom tribute is due; custom to whom custom; fear to whom fear; honour to whom honour.¡± Mr. Clarence finished the reading and set the large, pulpit Bible down on the desk beside him. ¡°We come now to the apostle¡¯s admonition to the church at Rome regarding the governing authorities. No doubt some in this room have struggled with these verses over these last number of years. Indeed, devout men of God took great umbrage with those of us Americans who saw no conflict between these verses and our taking up arms on behalf of our independence. The powers that be are, in fact, ordained by God. We know that God has ordained everything that comes to pass and that must include governments too. But that does not mean that governments may act as if they are God. That is a blasphemy so obvious it would hardly seem necessary to state it.¡±

    Mr. Randolph looked over to see that Camden was still engrossed in Mr. Clarence¡¯s words, perhaps even more engrossed than before. He continued on the same theme for several minutes, describing how Christians should relate to earthly authorities and what were the limits on the submission that Paul told them they must observe.

    He then went on to talk about the relationship between the church as a body and the government. "In truth, the government has no more to say about religion than it does about the principles of mathematics, that is to say: nothing."

    That statement seemed to shock Camden. Mr. Randolph felt him shift in his seat and glanced over to see that both of his eyebrows were raised. The Virginia Statute for Religious Freedom had passed only the year before, so the idea of complete freedom of conscience and a separation between church and state were still novel concepts for some.

    After the service, Mr. Randolph¡¯s curiosity got the better of him before they were even halfway back to his house. He had led Camden on a more circuitous route back from the church in order to allow more time for conversation.

    ¡°What did you think of the service today?¡±

    ¡°Mr. Clarence seems to hold a perspective on government I had not heard from a minister before.¡±

    The expression on his face seemed to suggest that the sermon had given the young man much to think about, or at least new ways to think about familiar ideas. Sensing this, Mr. Randolph, considered that perhaps it would be best to leave him to this thoughts for the time being.

    ¡°Are you familiar with the writings of Roger Williams, by chance?¡± he asked, seeing whether he could approach the issue obliquely. ¡°The founder of Rhode Island?¡±

    ¡°I know of him, but I do not believe I have read any of his works.

    ¡°Ah, well, then you shall have to remind me to locate a work of his that I think might be of interest to you. That is, of course, if you make time for reading it after your other assignments and duties.¡±

    ¡°If it comes with your recommendation, Mr. Randolph, then I am sure I will find a way to make the time for it.¡±

    The book that Mr. Randolph had in mind was The Bloudy Tenent of Persecution. He had been raised in the Church of England (now the Episcopal church after independence), but Williams¡¯ work, commended to him by a mentor of his own, had been an enlightening experience. He was certain that he did not agree with Williams¡¯ every point on theology, but he could find little with which to disagree in The Bloudy Tenent on the topic of government and the use of force. Whether the ideas would influence his apprentice as they had him--and whether they would influence government in America¡¯s future--remained to be seen.

    He was roused from his thoughts about adding to his apprentice¡¯s reading assignments by a familiar voice.

    ¡°Joseph! I had not thought to see you today.¡±

    He looked up to realize that it was his sister greeting him. Had he not been so focused on his conversation with Camden he might have realized that the route he had chosen was bound to result in meeting his sister who would be returning from church about the same time. Georgiana walked with her, arm in arm, but the rest of the family was not in view.

    ¡°Bess! I suppose I acted more like a homing pigeon than a wanderer. I was merely on the way home after services. May I present Mr. Camden Page, my new apprentice. Mr. Page, this is my sister, Mrs. Elizabeth Burwell. You have already been introduced to my niece, of course.¡±

    ¡°Have you already met Mr. Page, Georgiana?¡± Mrs. Burwell asked. ¡°Mr. Page you simply must forgive my daughter¡¯s neglecting to have mentioned your previous meeting with her.¡±

    Here, Mr. Randolph chimed in. ¡°It was a very brief meeting in my study. You know that Georgiana does not always tarry after returning books.¡±

    ¡°In any event, it is good to meet you in person, Mr. Page. My brother has told us of the correspondence he has had with you prior to your arrival in Richmond. I hope you will find him to be a good mentor, because I know he has been anticipating that you will make a fine apprentice and a good lawyer one day.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Mrs. Burwell. So far the apprenticeship has been everything I had hoped it would be.¡±

    Mr. Randolph then addressed his niece. ¡°Georgiana, just a few moments ago I was asking Mr. Page whether he was familiar with the works of Roger Williams. There¡¯s a book of his that I would like for Mr. Page to read, but I seem to remember that you might have borrowed it.¡±

    ¡°Was it The Bloudy Tenent, perhaps? I too seem to remember borrowing that one, yes, but I was certain I had returned it. When we return home, I¡¯ll be sure I have not misplaced it.¡±

    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s the one. I will look through my study again as well.¡±

    ¡°The bloody what, Georgiana?¡± asked her puzzled mother. ¡°Joseph, what are these books that you continue to supply to my daughter?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s The Bloudy Tenent of Persecution, mother. It is Mr. Williams¡¯ book about freedom of worship and the nature of government, nothing nearly as salacious as the title might imply. I do wonder, Uncle, whether Mr. Page would be very much interested in such a work?¡±

    Mr. Randolph saw traces of Georgiana¡¯s characteristic mischievousness in her question. Choosing to let Camden respond for himself, however, he merely turned slightly toward his apprentice. He was pleased to see that this time the young man rose to the occasion; he had learned that this young woman was nothing if not his intellectual equal.

    ¡°Oh, on the contrary, Miss Burwell, I am convinced that my study of the law--and I am sure Mr. Randolph would agree on this point--must be well-grounded not only in the common law and its more contemporary application, but also in the enduring principles upon which our legal system has been built.¡±

    Georgiana smiled, a look that Mr. Randolph recognized as one of satisfaction. ¡°You make a very good point, Mr. Page,¡± she said.

    By this time, Elizabeth wore an expression of near-consternation. ¡°Georgiana, I truly do not understand why you find it necessary to be so antagonistic sometimes.¡±

    ¡°I took no offense, Mrs. Burwell,¡± Camden was quick to interject. ¡°In fact, I find it refreshing that a young woman such as your daughter takes an interest in such topics.¡±

    ¡°She is, indeed, somewhat unique in that regard. You will understand, I am sure, that many young men do not find her willingness to express her opinion quite as refreshing as you do.¡±

    ¡°Mother, please,¡± Georgiana muttered.

    ¡°Oh, you of all people should not be so sensitive, my dear. Mr. Page, the other unfortunate habit that my daughter seems to have developed is to read implications where none were meant.¡±

    Georgiana looked as if she were about to speak again, but Mr. Randolph gave her a glance that he hoped would make her think better of it. Before he could find out whether he had been successful, his sister addressed Camden again.

    ¡°It has been delightful to meet you in person. The next time that my brother comes for dinner, we must be sure that he knows you are included in any such invitation. If you will excuse us, we really must be getting home now.¡±

    ¡°Good day, Mrs. Burwell . . . Miss Burwell.¡± Camden stepped aside to let the ladies pass by without their having to step into the street. Mr. Randolph made note of the fact, and also made note of his sister¡¯s and his niece¡¯s noticing it.

    The renewed energy in Camden¡¯s step after the brief meeting likewise did not escape his notice. Letting the young man down would now only be harder and it distressed Mr. Randolph that it was made more difficult only because Georgiana must only grow lovelier in his apprentice¡¯s eyes with each encounter. He knew he should not delay that conversation, but the pain he knew it would cause weighed heavily on his mind. He passed the rest of the walk to the house in silence.

 Chapter 3

    It was late one February morning when Mr. Randolph had sent Camden into the sitting room to finish a reading assignment. Camden had read Plato and Montesquieu and several other works of political philosophy and legal theory, but the well-worn volume over which he was presently hunched surpassed them all in terms of its impenetrability. Despite resting perfectly well the night before, his eyelids began to sag and the words began to blur. If Mr. Randolph had asked him to recite the facts of the case he was reading at that moment, he would have been at an utter loss. It had something to do with property, he hazily recalled, but that was the full extent of his knowledge on the subject.

    He snapped out of his drowsiness with a start when his head lurched forward and very nearly hit the book as it was laid flat on the table in front of him. He was mortified to see Mr. Randolph standing in the doorway, but nothing about his posture seemed to suggest that he had noticed his apprentice¡¯s brush with midday slumber.

    ¡°Mr. Page, will you join me in my study, please?¡±

    Camden rose and crossed through the front room, dreading the thought that Mr. Randolph might have seen him about to doze off after all. He was about to seat himself across the desk from Mr. Randolph as usual, until he gestured to another chair that had been set up near Mr. Randolph, on the other side of the desk.

    ¡°Over here, please. I am about to have a meeting and it will be beneficial for you to sit in. Besides, when you begin to assist me with clients, you must be near at hand anyway.¡±

    Just then, Mary answered a knock at the front door. To Camden¡¯s surprise, the two men that she admitted to the house were none other than the two men he had met a few weeks ago, Patrick Henry and James Monroe. Mr. Randolph rose to greet them.

    ¡°Mr. Henry and Mr. Monroe, welcome. Please have a seat. I believe you have both already met my apprentice, Mr. Page. He will be joining us today; I thought it would be beneficial to his education to be privy to our conversation. I hope you do not mind.¡±

    ¡°Not at all!¡± said Henry. ¡°On the contrary, were he not already here, I would gladly have suggested that he be allowed to listen in.¡± Monroe nodded in agreement.

    ¡°Splendid! Let¡¯s get down to business, then. Gentlemen, both of you know why I have asked you here today, but for the benefit of my apprentice, please allow me to explain.¡± Here, Mr. Randolph turned slightly toward Camden. ¡°As I mentioned on your first morning here, Dr. McClurg must be replaced as a delegate to the convention. The news of his passing last week dismays us all, but we must press forward. There is too much at stake to delay.¡±

    Mr. Randolph paused here and cast a gaze toward Mr. Henry, who picked up where Mr. Randolph had left off.

    ¡°You see, Mr. Page, the intentions of those who have called this convention are not altogether as straightforward as they would have you believe. In fact, if you were to ask me to put it to you as plainly as possible, I would say that the stench of the rat making his way to Philadelphia is putrid enough to smell all up and down the length and breadth of our confederacy.¡±

    Camden was not surprised to see that the Patrick Henry of legend seemed to be every bit as bombastic as the Patrick Henry of the real world. Still, to witness it in person was something he was sure he would not soon forget.

    ¡°I do not mean to poison your disposition toward any person in particular, of course. Nevertheless, it is clear to me that the motives of those who pushed for this convention are not what they might want the public to believe. We fought a war to escape a form of government that consolidated too much power in one place, but there are those who would drag us back toward just that very thing. They would have us surrender what we fought for--what you fought for, Mr. Monroe.¡±

    Camden could tell that Mr. Monroe had grown a little uneasy in his chair. Mr. Henry, of course, was known for his passionate speeches and fiery rhetoric. The same could clearly not be said for Mr. Monroe.

    ¡°I see your point, of course, Mr. Henry,¡± Monroe began, ¡°But I have yet to see why I am the one best situated to take up your cause in Philadelphia. Why should not you or Mr. Randolph go? Why would the General Assembly even appoint me in the first place?¡±

    Mr. Randolph began to respond, but stopped short as Mr. Henry politely held up a finger.

    ¡°I am forced to leave Richmond and am no longer the Governor, Mr. Monroe, but that does not mean I am bereft of friends here. You are an undisputed war hero. Washington himself is perhaps the only Virginian who is held in higher esteem for his service to the states. You have the opportunity not just to attend the convention, but to wield influence. There must be a Virginian there who is both ready and able to beat back the onslaught against the present constitution.¡±

    ¡°If that is what you thought, Mr. Henry, you had it within your own power to be sure that such a Virginian would be there, did you not? And yet you declined the appointment.¡± Monroe steepled his fingers below his chin, awaiting the elder statesman¡¯s response.

    ¡°I was, indeed, offered the appointment. I declined, however, because I fear that my presence there would only serve as a convenient and unsympathetic foil to other men who desperately crave legitimacy for their plans. I could not have been the most effective person to oppose them, but someone in your position can be.¡±

    Here, Mr. Randolph interjected. ¡°Gentlemen, surely you both acknowledge that what happens in Philadelphia is of great moment for Virginia no less than for the other American states. I think you will both also agree that there is much to think about before coming to a decision. I suggest that we part ways for now and contemplate the decision before us. Decisions made too hastily rarely come to any good. We shall speak again soon.¡±

    After they rose and exchanged farewells, Mr. Randolph asked Camden to remain in the study.

    ¡°What do you think, Mr. Page? Do you suppose Mr. Monroe will agree to go to Philadelphia?¡±The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Camden was somewhat astonished to be asked his opinion of such an important matter. He hardly knew what to say.

    ¡°I suppose, sir, that he likely will not.¡±

    ¡°And how have you come to that conclusion?¡±

    Here, Camden was even less sure how to proceed. Monroe¡¯s hesitancy was easy to read, but his thought process was almost entirely obscured.

    ¡°It seems that he and Mr. Henry simply do not share the same sense of concern about the upcoming convention. Perhaps Mr. Monroe does not think it would be entirely a bad thing for the government to be changed in some ways.¡±

    ¡°That may prove to be an astute observation. You may return to your reading now.¡±

    Camden strode back into the sitting room, but found that he could not immediately immerse himself in the assignment that he had not so long ago set aside. Apart from the tedious nature of the reading, the meeting to which he had just been a witness caused him some amount of disquietude. It was only a vague feeling of unease, but he could not precisely identify what it was that made him unsettled.

    Mr. Henry certainly seemed to be convinced of the necessity of having a voice for his opinions in Philadelphia, but the fervor with which he pressed the point seemed out of proportion to the weightiness of the situation. Surely, the stakes could not be quite as high as he seemed to believe they were; surely the situation could not be that dire. That the confederation and the present constitution were not ideal seemed to be almost universally acknowledged so far as Camden was aware. What was beyond question in his mind, however, were both the intellect and the integrity of Mr. Randolph and Mr. Henry. He set aside his own questions and resolved that he would come to no firm conclusions until having heard the best arguments that they had to make.

    At first, the meeting with Henry and Monroe proved to be somewhat of a distraction for Camden as he went back to his studies. There was, as Mr. Randolph had put it, quite a lot to think about and Camden could not seem to stop thinking about it. Was Mr. Henry right about the motives for the convention? Or did those who wanted major changes to the government have the better argument? Finding that he had no good answers to these questions, Camden applied himself to his reading, invigorated enough from the meeting that he now had no trouble staying awake--though the material had not really become any more interesting in the interim.

    In the afternoon, after he had finished his reading for the day, Mr. Randolph gave Mary the rest of the day off, and headed out himself to attend to some business just outside of the city. He left Camden to his own devices, asking only that if he were to go out that he return in time for dinner. Camden thought that an easy request to comply with since he planned to spend some time writing a letter to his aunt and uncle.

    He finished the letter in short order and realized that he had left out anything about his brief encounters with Miss Burwell. Considering whether to add a postscript, he decided it would not do to share what, at this time, would be regarded as little better than a boyish infatuation. However, another idea struck him like a thunderbolt.

    He quickly took out another sheet of paper and replenished his inkwell. Using his best handwriting, he wrote

    <blockquote>

    Dear Senator Burwell,

    Although I have not yet been pleased to make your acquaintance, in my capacity as apprentice to your brother in law, Mr. Joseph Randolph, Esq. and under his watchful eye, I have had the delightful experience of being introduced to your daughter, Miss Georgiana Burwell.

    If it meets with your approval, nothing would give me greater pleasure than to be permitted to call on you and your daughter and the rest of your family at your home, whenever it meets with your convenience. In eagerly awaiting your reply, I am your most humble and obedient servant,

    Camden Page

    </blockquote>

    Reading it over once more, Camden was impressed with himself. It sounded to him not unlike some of the notes and letters he had read about in the novels lent to him by Mr. Randolph. The penmanship was undoubtedly some of his best ever and he managed to avoid any glaring ink spots. Satisfied that he had done his best, he folded the letter and wrote the Senator¡¯s name on the outside. Pulling on his coat, he nearly flew down the stairs and out the front door.

    The afternoon was quite cold and a thick blanket of low clouds hid the sun from view, but Camden felt as if he floated the mile between the Randolph and Burwell houses. He was greeted at the front door by a man whose dour manner of dress perfectly matched the dour look on his face.

    ¡°May I help you?¡± he asked, but he failed to convince Camden that he had any desire at all to help anyone.

    ¡°I wish to deliver a letter to Senator Burwell, if I may.¡±

    ¡°If he is not expecting you, then you may not. I happen to know that he is not expecting anyone this afternoon.¡±

    The man began to close the door, but Camden lunged forward slightly, thrusting the letter toward the man.

    ¡°I understand, of course. But you will be so good as to see that this is delivered to him, will you not?¡±

    The man stared at the letter as if Camden was asking him to accept a chamber pot that was in need of emptying. In spite of his look of sheer disgust, the man begrudgingly took the letter and closed the door. ¡°Good day, young man,¡± he barely managed to get out before the door was shut, more or less in Camden¡¯s face.

    A man more accustomed to dealing with James Burwell¡¯s manservant--or one not so overcome with emotion at the thought of time spent in the company of a beautiful young woman--might have been offended at such treatment. Camden, however, did not seem to notice at all and glided back down the same streets to Mr. Randolph¡¯s house and the promise of Mary¡¯s hot meal.

    ¡°Andrew, who was that?¡± she called from the next room.

    ¡°A young man, Miss, wishing to speak with your father. I sent him away, but your father is out anyway.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s that you have?¡± she asked as he stepped into the room.

    ¡°Oh, yes, he left a letter for Mr. Burwell.¡±

    Andrew was about to continue, but Georgiana cut him off. ¡°Just lay it over here, then. Father will come in here to see me as soon as he¡¯s home.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s really no trouble--¡±

    ¡°Nonsense, Andrew. Just leave it here, please.¡±

    He obeyed her instruction and left, as dour as ever, to attend to his other duties.

    Once she was sure Andrew was well gone to another part of the house, she picked up the letter and examined it. It was, indeed, addressed to her father. She could think of no conceivable grounds upon which Mr. Page would have cause to write to her father. If an introduction were to be made, it would certainly be made by Mr. Randolph and in person. She had no knowledge of such an introduction having been made. Under any other circumstances she would never have done what she did next, but the compulsion was too strong. She opened the letter.

    Reading the letter brought a flurry of emotions. She had wondered whether the warm feelings of attraction were mutual and she now had her answer. And despite his ruddy appearance, here was further confirmation that underneath the young man¡¯s imposing exterior lay an intelligent and considerate personality. Intelligent, yes, she told herself, but still with much to learn about the etiquette of social interactions among the upper classes. The letter was a breach of etiquette that could foreclose any possibility of further social interaction between the two of them.

    The next thought Georgiana had was a decidedly unpleasant one, but there was no doubt in her mind about what she must do.

 Chapter 4

    The day¡¯s assignment called for a lengthy reading from a treatise on the subject of torts. Compared to property law, Camden found this topic to be considerably more interesting. In fact, he was engrossed in the facts of a case involving a duck pond and a neighbor firing off his muskets. He was just reading the line from Chief Justice Holt--¡°in short, that which is the true reason for this action is not brought to recover damage for the loss of the fowl, but for the disturbance¡±-- when a knock came at the front door. Both Mary and Mr. Randolph were away, so he set down his book and went to answer it.

    Opening the door, he was met by a messenger boy who offered him two letters along with an open hand for a gratuity. Camden fished for a coin in his pocket and finding a couple pennies, dropped them in the boy¡¯s hand.

    ¡°Thank you, sir!¡±

    Camden found it remarkable that the boy would be so grateful for such a small favor, but then considered how he would have felt at that age. Money was scarce in farm country, so he probably would have considered it an even greater boon.

    Back inside he noticed that one of the letters was addressed to Mr. Randolph and the other to him, both seeming to bear the same handwriting. He left the former on the desk in Mr. Randolph¡¯s study and returned to the sitting room and his books to open the latter.

    The outside of the envelope bore a plain sort of script that read merely ¡°Mr. Camden Page.¡± He sat back in his chair and opened the letter.

    <blockquote>

    Dear Mr. Page,

    I have received the letter you somewhat recently delivered to my home. Please understand that I cannot grant your request, nor do I foresee any circumstances under which I would be inclined to change my mind, your apprenticeship to Mr. Randolph notwithstanding. Be assured, however, that I wish you only the best in your pursuit of the study of law. I am, sir, respectfully yours,

    Senator James Burwell

    </blockquote>

    Camden read the letter a second time, just to be sure he understood. When it was clear that he had understood it perfectly the first time, he could do nothing but sit and stare, as if the words on the page would change or disappear if he held his gaze for long enough. Eventually, however, he let the letter fall from his hand onto the floor.

    He was not sure how long he sat there, head in his hands, before he heard Mary come in the front door. As she passed the sitting room, she cheerfully asked ¡°Is there anything I can get you, Mr. Page?¡±

    ¡°No, thank you,¡± he managed to get out, fearing that his voice would waver and give away his grief.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll be getting dinner ready, then. Mr. Randolph should be along shortly.¡± She shuffled toward the back of the house and Camden was once again left with his thoughts.

    Reaching down for the letter, he picked it up between two fingers, but then crumpled it into a ball, which he tossed into the fire. He had no idea how he could possibly go back to his studies after this. He could not begin to imagine reciting cases to Mr. Randolph later today. Perhaps he would feign illness and ask to be excused. Whatever else the day might bring, he did not think he could bear to face it. To have the extraordinary Ms. Burwell introduced to his life and then forever taken away only a few short weeks later, was a devastating blow. In the back of his mind, he supposed that he should not have been so crushed; he knew the young woman barely at all. He had always considered himself to be level-headed and reasonable, not so prone to swings of passion as others. Perhaps he had been wrong about that.

    As he seated himself in the chair on the near side of Mr. Randolph¡¯s desk, he secretly hoped that the duck pond case would be the first one he was asked about. At least he thought he could mostly recall the facts and the legal reasoning of that one.

    Instead, Mr. Randolph said, ¡°I¡¯ve received a letter today that concerns you.¡± He held up the other letter that the boy had delivered earlier the same day. Camden¡¯s heart sank.

    ¡°It comes from my brother in law¡¯s desk, but judging by the look on your face I gather that you already deduced as much. The letter reiterates much of what was said in the similar missive that you received earlier today, but this one adds instructions for me as well. My niece, it says, is no longer permitted to visit this house while you are present.¡±

    Camden felt sick, but remained silent. Now not only was his personal desire to see Ms. Burwell doomed, but he would be the reason that uncle and niece would have to pick and choose their meetings. He hung his head, but only for a moment. He was still getting to know Mr. Randolph, but he already knew enough of the man that disappointing him or bringing any shame on his reputation was the last thing Camden wanted to do.

    Mr. Randolph lay the letter aside and let out a short sigh.

    ¡°You don¡¯t hide it quite so well as you might like, you know,¡± Mr. Randolph offered in a tone more fatherly than professional. ¡°Mr. Page, although you might find it hard to believe, I too was once a young man. I hope you will understand how it is that you acted rashly in this instance. Affairs of the heart are, well . . .¡± Here Mr. Randolph trailed off and turned in his chair to stare into the embers in the fireplace. Reaching for the poker he stoked the coals and rearranged the logs until the flame caught again.

    ¡°Mr. Randolph, I apologize. I never thought that--¡±

    ¡°No need, my boy. The social etiquette in households such as my brother in law¡¯s does not often make sense to those of different backgrounds. I¡¯m not convinced that many of their rules and customs have much sense to them at all. Nevertheless, let this be a lesson for you: always proceed with caution.¡±

    Camden nodded in solemn agreement.

    Mr. Randolph drew in a deep breath before continuing. ¡°I know, of course, that a lesson in social niceties seems irrelevant at the moment. I doubt you will receive a future letter expressing that my brother in law has changed his mind, but I can¡¯t say that I blame you for making this particular mistake. Perhaps I should have been more direct with you when my niece was here that first day.¡±

    Mr. Randolph leaned forward and lowered his voice, as if to prevent someone from hearing, although only the two of them and Mary were in the house.

    ¡°You are quite right, of course, to notice that Georgiana is an exceptional young woman. Whatever she may lack in beauty--and that is not much--she more than accounts for with her superior intellect and her quick wit. But perhaps I need not remind you of her wit, eh?¡±

    In spite of himself, Camden smiled at that.

    ¡°Aside from all of those qualities, she is a devoted daughter and a devout follower of Christ who will some day, I have no doubt, be for someone an excellent wife. The man with whom God unites her in marriage will count himself among the most fortunate men to have ever walked the earth.¡±

    Mr. Randolph paused again and rubbed his temples.

    ¡°But I suppose my singing her praises can only make matters worse for you right now. Then let me end by saying only this: my niece deserves to be married to a man who is her equal in every respect. You and I are only just becoming acquainted with one another, Mr. Page, but even from the short time I have known you, there is very little doubt in my mind that you certainly could be such a man. Even if it is never to be, content yourself with the fact that to be accounted a man worthy of such a young woman as Georgiana is, in itself, quite an achievement.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Mr. Randolph.¡± Camden searched for the words, but could manage only another ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°If I¡¯m not mistaken, I believe Mary might be finished with dinner. I suppose we may safely postpone the rest of your reading until tomorrow. Come. Let¡¯s eat.¡±

    The Bloudy Tenent, which Mr. Randolph had given him earlier that week. It was certainly a departure from his other reading, but the ideas in it were so fundamental, he thought, that they could not be entirely divorced from everything else that he was studying.

    When a knock came at the door early one afternoon, he found that he was actually a little annoyed by the distraction that pulled him away from his reading. However, when he discovered the reason for the disturbance, his annoyance abated. Mr. Henry and Mr. Monroe had arrived together, presumably to speak with Mr. Randolph on the same topic as their previous meeting.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡°Mr. Page, will you please join us in the study?¡± came the call from Mr. Randolph after a minute or two. Camden marked his place and joined the three men in the other room.

    Taking his seat next to Mr. Randolph, his mentor said ¡°Mr. Page, Mr. Henry and Mr. Monroe have just informed me that the General Assembly has asked Mr. Monroe to replace Dr. McClurg at the convention in Philadelphia. He has told me that he will agree to accept the appointment, but only if I fulfill two conditions.¡±

    Camden stole a glance at Mr. Monroe and Mr. Henry, but their expressions gave away nothing.

    ¡°First, he requires that I allow him the use of a number of books from my library, books to which he believes he will want to refer during the course of the convention. Naturally, I agreed to that condition without hesitation.¡±

    Here, Mr. Randolph paused momentarily. ¡°The second thing he asks is that you accompany him to Philadelphia as his assistant. What do you say to that?¡±

    Camden tried to collect his thoughts. The convention in Philadelphia would certainly be an important event in the history of the new country. But what of his apprenticeship? And if ever there was a chance for his blunder respecting Miss Burwell to be repaired, it certainly could not be done from hundreds of miles away.

    He quickly settled on, ¡°It sounds like a unique opportunity. I am humbled that Mr. Monroe would consider me for such an important undertaking. Would my apprenticeship not be affected, however?¡±

    ¡°That has already been worked out, pending only your agreement to go with Mr. Monroe. A former partner of mine who now resides in Philadelphia, Mr. Hiram Johnson, would be more than happy to supervise your readings.¡±

    Camden nodded his head, acknowledging Mr. Randolph¡¯s reassurances more than agreeing with them. While his absence from Richmond might prove a barrier to his somehow undoing the damage he had done himself with Senator Burwell, the distance might also prove to free him of the mental distractions that had plagued his studies since that day.

    ¡°Then I would be honored to help Mr. Monroe in whatever way I can.¡±

    ¡°Marvelous! I assured both of you that he would agree, did I not?¡±

    Monroe and Henry both rose and Monroe extended his hand to Camden. They shook and Monroe said, ¡°Mr. Randolph has had nothing but good things to say about you. I am confident that you will prove adequate to every task.¡±

    Mr. Henry then offered his own words. ¡°I think, young man, that your assistance to Mr. Monroe may prove to be one of the hinges upon which the history of our nation turns. Whether the convention strengthens our confederation or remakes it into something else hangs in the balance. It may only take a handful of men to tip it one way or the other. Your assistance may prove to be the factor that makes Mr. Monroe one such man.¡±

    Camden could see clearly now why Mr. Henry had come to be so influential in Virginia. He was given to eloquence and clearly had a flair for the dramatic, but his lofty words still seemed out of place in this instance. True, the convention could prove to be a very important event in the history of the American states, but that was by no means clear to Camden. In any event, he was sure that his role--a mere assistant to a delegate who was selected only as a last-minute replacement--was surely numbered among the most insignificant pieces that would make up the proceedings in Philadelphia.

    Despite any misgivings he might have had, however, Camden responded ¡°That is very kind of you to say, Mr. Henry. I count the confidence of both you and Mr. Monroe as a tremendous encouragement.¡±

    Later that evening, Mr. Randolph invited Camden into his study once more. Mr. Randolph made note of the fact that Camden had long since passed the point of needing to be directed where to sit when called in. He set down his pipe and asked ¡°What are your true thoughts about attending the convention with Mr. Monroe?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m very grateful for the opportunity, just as I said.¡± Camden shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with the question, but not sure why.

    ¡°Yes, Mr. Page. I know what you said earlier today. But in addition to your words, I remember what your face and your tone of voice betrayed.¡± Picking up his pipe, Mr. Randolph took several puffs before continuing. The smell of pipe tobacco reminded Camden of late summer evenings sitting on his uncle¡¯s porch, where he would read--often out loud to the rest of the family, but more often to himself. Here, the aroma seemed to soften the edges of Mr. Randolph¡¯s observation.

    ¡°You are not merely unsure of your role at the convention and whether it is really essential to Mr. Monroe that you be there with him. You also have your misgivings about how Mr. Henry sees the convention and whether you should be a party to Mr. Monroe¡¯s voicing those ideas in Philadelphia, do you not?¡±

    Camden knew that his mentor must come down on the side of Mr. Henry--now Mr. Monroe¡¯s side as well. Yet he hesitated to contradict him. He could see, however, that Mr. Randolph could read people--and Camden especially--like an open book. It would do no good to avoid the issue.

    ¡°If I may be forthright, sir--¡±

    ¡°That is exactly what I expect from you, Mr. Page. To be forthright and wrong allows for correction or at least a better understanding of the disagreement. To conceal your ideas for fear of offending me accomplishes nothing for either of us. Please proceed.¡±

    ¡°Then yes, I do have reservations about some of the things that you and Mr. Henry and Mr. Monroe have been saying. It seems to me that those who say that we need a general government with more energy and vigor have the better of the argument. The course of history shows rather clearly, I think, that no weak confederation has ever become a great nation, the kind of great nation that ours could become if given the chance.¡±

    Mr. Randolph took his pipe from his mouth just long enough to say ¡°Go on.¡±

    ¡°For instance, Congress is at the mercy of the individual states who can choose either to give or withhold their requisitions. Thus, Congress can do nothing without the unanimous agreement of all thirteen states. Which is to say that Congress can very often do nothing at all on issues that are of great importance. In addition to thwarting Congress, this requirement of unanimous agreement allows one state to thwart each other state as well as all of the other states acting together. Congress then can act only as a sort of diplomatic assembly and not truly as a legislature for the confederation of states.¡±

    ¡°I see,¡± began Mr. Randolph. He set down his pipe and leaned forward, folding his hands in front of him on the desk. This was a sure sign, Camden had learned, that he was on the verge of launching into one of his cross examinations. It was the same whether Camden observed him in court or here in the office when he was reciting one of the cases he had been assigned to read. ¡°Do you not also think, Mr. Page, that it is a problem that there is no uniform, national trade policy? And if there is no single trade policy what should prevent Maryland from imposing duties on goods that need only to cross the Potomac from Virginia? Why, one state can lower its tariffs almost to nothing and thereby siphon foreign trade away from the others. When some states intend only to give some modest measure of protection to their own commercial interests, should Congress really be left powerless to act on behalf of the general welfare?¡±

    Camden tended to agree with Mr. Randolph on this point. At the same time, he had already discovered that a favorite tactic of Mr. Randolph¡¯s was to make the best argument in favor of his opponent¡¯s position so that he could demolish that same argument with the next breath. Although Camden was fairly certain that he was being lured into a trap, his response spilled out nonetheless: ¡°Yes, I think that does, indeed, represent one of the other pressing issues we face that must be addressed in Philadelphia.¡±

    ¡°Hmm. I see.¡± Mr. Randolph picked up his pipe and sat back in his chair, as if he were collecting his thoughts. ¡°So then you would agree that the citizens of the Commonwealth of Virginia should pay more if they choose to purchase goods from abroad so that someone in Massachusetts or Connecticut can fetch a higher price for his own products? Is that not the logical conclusion of a national trade policy that would impose a high tariff on imports?¡±

    ¡°Well, certainly it must be admitted that the unfavorable balance of trade has drained the nation of its specie and given the states a supposed license to emit all manner of paper money. Must not something be done about that?¡±

    ¡°On the contrary, that has it precisely backwards. The widespread use of paper money is, indeed, a harmful practice. However, it is the use of paper money that has driven our metals out of the country and not the reverse as you suggest. The commercial concerns that may have thrived during the war when foreign goods were unavailable would have us continue a policy that favors them--including propping their interests up with paper--but this we must not do. There may be pain for some before the supply of money has the chance to right itself, but be assured that it will right itself if left alone. Granting a national government ultimate control over our money can only make matters worse in the long run.¡±

    Camden opened his mouth as if to answer, but could think of nothing to say. Mr. Randolph continued.

    ¡°It is true that Congress is, in many instances, reduced to the role of diplomatic assembly. It is likewise true there are many instances in which Congress is constrained from acting because it lacks the unanimous consent of the states. Is that not precisely as it should be when the parties represented in Congress are thirteen sovereign states? What need have we Americans to talk of becoming a ¡®great nation¡¯? Britain remains a great nation, but one with which we parted ways. Is it not enough for us to be a free nation? What worthy thing can ¡®greatness¡¯ promise us that independence has not already provided?¡±

    Mr. Randolph paused again. Camden was beginning to see why he and Mr. Henry found in each other a friend. He took his pipe back up and smoked for perhaps a full minute before speaking again.

    ¡°I apologize for the lecture, Mr. Page. As you can tell, Mr. Henry and I share the passionate desire that the freedom and independence that was bought at such a heavy price not be surrendered. If our liberties are lost, it is more likely that they will be stolen away piece by piece than that a tyrant will arise from nowhere to wrest them away from us in a single blow.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps you are right. Nevertheless, it seems clear that a failure to give at least some small amount of power to the general government eventually but surely will lead to anarchy. Is even that concern unreasonable?¡±

    ¡°No, I cannot say that it is unreasonable. In fact, I have no doubt that that way of thinking comes naturally to man. I would only suggest that you think about the extent to which that logic can and should be applied.¡±

    Camden rubbed his face with both hands and tried unsuccessfully to suppress a sigh. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Mr. Randolph, but I am not sure that I understand your meaning.¡±

    ¡°You worry that the lack of a powerful national government may lead to anarchy in America. Do you suppose that the present lack of a world monarchy has yielded anarchy the world over?¡±

    ¡°No, I suppose not. I had not thought of it that way before, but it still seems that--¡±

    ¡°It seems that there is a difference, yes. You see the principle and the logic, however. That is all that concerns me. I did not arrive at my present political philosophy without time for contemplation and reflection. I can make no demands on your conscience, but can only urge you to think carefully and to think thoroughly about all of these things.¡±

    ¡°That, Mr. Randolph, is something I promise to do."

 Chapter 5

    The ale at The Laughing Fox was the best in Philadelphia. Nat was so adamant about its quality that he was almost willing to fight any man who said otherwise. Here was a beverage to be savored rather than gulped. Even amidst the unpleasant mix of odors that hung in the air in the stuffy tavern, he found himself letting the cup sit in front of him for a moment, simply taking in its bread-like aroma.

    ¡°You aim to drink that beer or make love to it?¡± a gruff voice from down the bar asked.

    Nat ignored the man, who let out a drunken guffaw as he slapped the counter, jostling every glass or plate all down the line. He picked up his cup and headed toward the back of the tavern. He intended to enjoy several of these ales before the day was done and his enjoyment would be greatly increased if he drank as far away as possible from men such as that one.

    Settling in at a small table, he put glass to lips and enjoyed his first sip, holding it in his mouth briefly to experience the full flavor. A few swallows later a pair of men sat down somewhere off to his right. One of the peculiar things about The Laughing Fox--something that endeared it to a man in Nat¡¯s particular line of work--was that sound did not carry at all as one might expect. There were dead spots where a man practically had to shout in order to make himself heard and other places where even the softest whisper would carry to the other side of a room. Seated where he was now, Nat could hear every word the two men were saying as if the three of them were touching elbows. He fancied himself not so much an eavesdropper and a gossip as a collector and purveyor of useful information. It could be a lucrative enterprise.

    ¡°¡®Twasn¡¯t hard at all really,¡± said the first man. He had a deep voice with just a hint of a London accent, something that was not all that uncommon even these days.

    ¡°But how did you manage not to get caught, doing it right out in public like that?¡± asked the second, apparently younger man. At least Nat would have sworn that the tenor of his voice placed him at no more than thirty years old.

    ¡°Well, there¡¯s public and then there¡¯s public, see. You can get away with most things if you choose the right time and know your mark.¡±

    Here, thought Nat, was a possible fellow traveler. He never missed a good opportunity to hone the tools of his trade.

    ¡°Watch their routines, gather information, and think it through. Far too many men rush in before they really consider all the angles. This gent was as predictable as they come. So it took only three of us: one to deliver the message, one to keep eyes on him, and one to drive the horses. That doctor never knew what hit him and we must have been halfway back on the road north to Pennsylvania before anyone even passed by to alert the watch. Even then no one would have ever doubted that it was anything other than an unfortunate accident.¡±

    The deep-voiced man let a chuckle slip. That seemed to amuse the second man who let out a laugh of his own.

    ¡°With all these gentlemen on their way here for their little convention, we can be sure that there will be more of the same sort of work. More than enough to go around for all of us. We just have to keep our heads down until then. If you get pinched for something stupid then you¡¯ll be no good to anyone.¡±

    ¡°Quite right,¡± said the second man.

    Nat just took all of this in. He had bits and pieces of a story, but not yet enough to know whether he had overheard something of much significance. Many men had enemies, so for one to have gotten himself killed by some ruffians was not at all unusual. Although Nat drew the line at using a bit of forceful persuasion to collect a debt, not everyone who engaged in the trade held the same scruples. Killing a debtor might foreclose any hope of securing full payment, but there were those who believed that such retribution certainly would deter future debtors from attempting to skip out on their responsibilities.

    The two men moved on to topics of seemingly much less consequence and Nat finished the last of his ale. It was far too good to stop at just one and so he ordered another.

    ¡°Good morning, Mr. Monroe. Mr. Randolph sends his regrets that he could not see us off this morning. He is to meet with a client early this morning and needed to look over a contract before doing so.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s no trouble at all,¡± replied Monroe, who was busy reading the previous day¡¯s copy of the Virginia Independent Chronicle.

    ¡°Is there anything of note?¡± Camden asked before Mr. Monroe completely engrossed himself again.

    Mr. Monroe flipped a page or two, folded the paper in half and passed it to Camden, directing his attention to short story at the bottom of the page.

    ¡°It seems that the publisher, Mr. Davis, is not altogether fond of the idea that I shall be present at proceedings in Philadelphia.¡±

    Camden began to read and realized that Mr. Monroe had made a very charitable understatement. The story ran under the line ¡°Henry¡¯s Mercenary Sent to Philadelphia to Stifle Convention.¡± The story was not attributed to any author, but that was a fairly common practice, Camden had come to learn, especially when the owner of the publication was involved.

    ¡°Having passed the point at which it is too late for the General Assembly to correct the grievous error of appointing Mr. James Monroe as a delegate to the Philadelphia convention,¡± the article stated, ¡°Virginia can now only hope that the more qualified voices such as those of Mr. James Madison will represent us well to the rest of the United States. Too much is now at stake for our union than for its fate to be entrusted to novices and those held under the sway of others who would rather burn down our own house than raise a finger to repair its obvious faults.¡±

    Camden could hardly believe what he was reading. He had known that Mr. Henry and Mr. Monroe were not universally well-liked, but this sort of vitriol caught him off guard. He paused to look up and saw that Mr. Monroe had been watching, likely hoping to gauge his reaction.

    ¡°Mr. Monroe, this is--¡±

    ¡°Yes, it is. Do you now better understand that which you have undertaken? This is only the beginning. I will likely absorb most of the blows, of course, but there is no guarantee that your reputation will remain untarnished due to your association with me, and by extension with Mr. Henry.¡±

    ¡°I understand. I am prepared for these sorts of attacks. I only suppose that I did not expect them to be launched against you before you had even left the city.¡±

    ¡°Good morning!¡± came an approaching voice. They both turned to look and saw that it was Mr. Randolph.

    ¡°Good morning, Mr. Randolph,¡± said Monroe, stepping down out of the coach to meet their visitor. ¡°Mr. Page had told me that you would not be able to see us off. This is a pleasant surprise indeed.¡±

    ¡°Thank you for saying so, Mr. Monroe. I came to wish a good journey as well as good fortune in pursuing your important work.¡±

    Turning to Camden, Mr. Randolph showed a small stack of books. ¡°These are for you,¡± he said. Camden took them and set them on the seat next to him. He saw no need to bother the porters to dig up his trunk for something so trivial. Noticing the titles of the books, his attention was drawn to one in particular, a novel by Henry Fielding titled Amelia. The others were clearly books that Mr. Randolph expected him to read and be tested on when he returned.

    ¡°Mr. Randolph, there seems to be one book here by mistake.¡±

    ¡°No, that¡¯s no mistake, Mr. Page. You must exercise every bit of your mind to become a good attorney. We must not only know the law, but also the human condition, and there are few better ways to do that than to read well-written works of fiction. I only ask that you do not open that particular book until you have left Richmond.¡±

    Camden thought that to be a somewhat queer request, but he had no reason to do anything other than comply with it. ¡°Certainly, sir, and I thank you. I will write often, as you have instructed.¡±

    ¡°I look forward to it and be sure to help Mr. Monroe in whatever manner he might choose to employ you. I¡¯ve already sent word to my former partner, Mr. Johnson, who will be supervising your apprenticeship in my absence. Be sure to introduce yourself as soon as possible after you arrive.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be sure that he does exactly that, Mr. Randolph,¡± Monroe offered. He climbed back into the coach and situated himself for the journey ahead.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be on my way then,¡± said Mr. Randolph. ¡°Take care, Mr. Page.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Mr. Randolph.¡± Camden too climbed into the coach again and set the books on his lap, awaiting the arrival of the other passengers.

    Too curious to wait, Camden took the copy of Amelia from the bottom of the stack and opened to the title page. Rather than the front matter of the book, however, he found a letter which had been inserted in the book¡¯s pages. On the outside, it was addressed to him in what appeared to be Mr. Randolph¡¯s handwriting. He opened it, seeing that the letter itself was not written in Mr. Randolph¡¯s hand, and read:

    <blockquote>

    Dear Mr. Page,

    I regret that our correspondence must begin in this manner, done in secret rather than in the full light of day. Circumstances, however, dictate that it must be so, at least for now. I can only imagine how you were affected by the letter you received stating my father¡¯s insistence that you not be allowed to see me. Despite the very brief nature of our first meeting at my uncle¡¯s house, I hope I am correct in my conclusion that my desire to make a closer acquaintance of you is one that you share.

    If so, and if you would not dismiss the idea as too forward on my part, my uncle has agreed to assist us in corresponding with one another. I have no intention of violating the instruction that I not see you in person, but I see no reason why we may not correspond in writing. To facilitate this arrangement, my uncle will accept your letters and deposit them in books that I borrow. He will do the same with my letters to you and in this way we may write to one another in confidence.

    I pray you will have as pleasant a journey as possible and await eagerly the arrival of your reply.

    Georgiana Burwell

    Richmond, Virginia

    May 4, 1787

    </blockquote>

    By the time he reached the end, Camden was sure that he must have been beaming from ear to ear. As he boarded the coach earlier that morning, it was not lost on him that not only was he far away from any meaningful interaction with the beautiful young woman over whose handwriting he now pored, but his journey would take him physically far away from her as well. Even the thought of a chance encounter would have been lost to him. Now, however, his heart soared. True, he was left with no way to even merely be in her presence, but the prospect of interacting with the mind of the woman who had so impressed him upon that first encounter was more than adequate consolation. Indeed, it was no mere consolation at all, but a surpassing joy.

    That he could not keep his joy inside was made clear to him when Mr. Monroe broke him out of his thoughts.

    ¡°I take it you have received some very good news in that letter, Mr. Page? Not meaning to pry, of course.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Mr. Monroe, I most certainly have.¡± Camden folded the letter and put it back in the book, resolving not to read it again just yet.

    Seeing this, Mr. Monroe gave a knowing nod of the head and went back to his newspaper.

    They had stopped for the evening just outside of Baltimore. More of their journey was behind them than now lay ahead, but Camden was still weary from the long days in the uncomfortable coach. Even with his books, the company of Mr. Monroe, and the letter from Georgiana (which he had practically memorized by now), the journey was testing his endurance. The other two passengers from Richmond had been going only as far as Alexandria, but at least two new travelers would be joining the coach tomorrow bound for points further north.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    In the meantime, Camden had resolved to try to get as restful a night as possible tonight, the better to be prepared for the possibility of an overcrowded coach tomorrow. At Mr. Monroe¡¯s insistence, the two of them shared a room with two small beds. Upon entering, Camden had not been quite sure how either of them--both being rather tall--could expect to get much good sleep with their legs hanging off the ends of their too short beds.

    As he was pondering that dilemma, Mr. Monroe spoke up. ¡°Mr. Page, we have been together now for quite some time, and yet I feel I do not know you nearly as well as I should. Might I ask you to tell me something of your life before you came to be apprenticed to Mr. Randolph?¡±

    ¡°Certainly, although I doubt it is a very interesting story.¡±

    ¡°Why not let me be the judge of that?¡± Mr. Monroe smiled.

    Camden was not entirely sure where to begin. ¡°Well, you see, before I came in with Mr. Randolph, I lived in New Kent County with my aunt and uncle. I was actually born in Richmond, but my mother died in childbirth and my father succumbed to illness shortly thereafter. My mother¡¯s sister and her husband agreed to take me in and I have lived with them on their farm ever since.¡±

    ¡°Ah, but I know there must be more than that. You have shown yourself to be too well-read for me to believe that you lived merely the same existence as any other country boy in the Commonwealth. I do not doubt but that you must have had some education beyond what one might expect for someone from your home.¡±

    Camden cocked his head slightly. ¡°Oh, why yes, in fact, I suppose I did.¡± He slid his boots under the bed and continued. ¡°At the time I did not think of it that way, however. I had been taught to read and write and do basic arithmetic--the most that anyone in our area ever really learned. But after that--perhaps when I was 12 or 13, I don¡¯t remember precisely--books began to arrive from a benefactor in Richmond. I believe that my aunt and uncle knew all along that it was Mr. Randolph, but they never said so until much later. In any event, after the books started coming I was never in want of fresh reading material. Reading gave me a satisfaction so much greater than working the farm that I never thought of it as an education, only as my doing the thing I loved to do best.¡±

    ¡°And I suppose your reading led to your wanting to pursue the law?¡±

    ¡°No, not really. My reading certainly has prepared me, I think, for being apprenticed to Mr. Randolph. However, before I came to learn that he was supplying the books, I harbored no more than a passing interest in the law.¡±

    ¡°I see. Then it was Mr. Randolph¡¯s suggestion that you be his apprentice.¡±

    ¡°Indeed. He and my father were friends and partners. Just before my father¡¯s death, although he was not able to take me into his care directly, he promised my father that he would see to my education and that I had the chance to follow him into the legal profession.¡±

    ¡°And now here you are.¡±

    Camden nodded. ¡°And what about you, Mr. Monroe? Your reputation as a hero of the war precedes you. I¡¯m very interested to hear about the Battle of Trenton. What was it like to fight with General Washington?¡±

    Monroe looked out the window. ¡°I cannot say that I know much of what it was like to fight with Washington. But I did serve for a time in a regiment under his command and I can say that he is no doubt worthy of the high regard in which he seems to be universally held.¡± He looked back at Camden, his eyes refocusing as if he had just come back from some far away place. ¡°As for the Battle of Trenton, well, that is surely something I will never forget. War is often made to sound glorious by the men who write the histories, but experiencing it for oneself is something that changes a man.¡±

    Camden sat near the edge of his seat, now hanging on Monroe¡¯s every word.

    ¡°It was still very early in the war and events were not turning in our favor. That winter was, perhaps, the lowest ebb of the fight for independence. General Washington determined to attack the Hessian garrison the day after Christmas, calculating that such an attack would not be expected, catching the mercenaries after a night of revelry. That calculation proved to be correct, of course, although I was only eighteen at the time and had only the most cursory understanding of the larger strategic picture.

    The battle was under our control, having attacked both from the south and from the north. The critical moment came, however, when the Hessians attempted to move their artillery into position. Were they to fire upon us, our advance would have been halted if not turned into a rout. Captain Washington--a cousin of General Washington¡¯s--ordered a charge and we plunged ahead, determined to capture the German guns. Tragically, Captain Washington was wounded and fell, at which time, command of the regiment fell to me. We continued forward and captured the guns and their crews, allowing General Washington to complete the attack. It was a small victory, but one that the Continental Army needed desperately.¡±

    ¡°It was there that you were wounded?¡± asked Camden, although he already knew the answer.

    ¡°Yes, it was there. I was grazed in the chest by a ball. Providentially, one of my men--his name escapes me at the moment, but I remember that he had been badly burned on the left side of his face during the battle--found a doctor by the name of Riker. Sadly, I never learned Dr. Riker¡¯s full name or else I should have thanked him long ago for his service to me that day.¡±

    Monroe gazed out the window again, but Camden dared not disturb him. He appeared to be deep in thought, thoughts to which Camden was sure he could not hope to relate. If Mr. Monroe said that experiencing war firsthand changed a man, then the man seated across from him at the moment was all the confirmation of that truth that Camden needed.

    Upon arriving in Philadelphia a few days later, Camden remarked that the evening was rather cool for May, but the proprietor of their boarding house on Seventh Street assured him that it was not really that unusual for this time of year in Pennsylvania. The late spring days of Camden¡¯s youth in New Kent County could be oppressively hot and humid. In addition to the pleasant novelty of the weather, Camden was preparing for what he hoped would be another enjoyable new experience. Mr. Peter Tobin, a prominent Philadelphia businessman, was hosting a reception for the delegates and Camden was invited as well.

    Because he had never attended such a function--he had never had the opportunity--Mr. Monroe spent a good portion of the afternoon giving Camden a rudimentary course of instruction in the etiquette of such gatherings. Not having forgotten the disastrous results of his earlier social ignorance in Richmond, Camden was a willing and eager student, immersing himself in the older man¡¯s instruction.

    It was the cool evening air, Camden supposed, that prompted Mr. Monroe to suggest that they walk to the reception, rather than take a carriage. They dressed and left in plenty of time, allowing them to stroll at a leisurely pace. This also gave Camden one last chance to review his etiquette.

    The conversation took a turn and Mr. Monroe said, ¡°Should you wish it I can arrange for you to be introduced to General Washington. Did you know that he will be a guest there this evening?¡±

    Camden had not known and now he did not quite know how to respond. ¡°Yes . . . yes, of course. That would be an honor.¡±

    Monroe responded with only, ¡°Very well. I shall see to it,¡± and then dropped the matter entirely.

    They arrived at their destination amidst a terrible confusion of carriages, horses, servants, delegates, and a general mass of humanity. The house, Camden thought, was surely large enough to host three or four such gatherings simultaneously. Independence Hall itself must look almost plain and unimportant by comparison. They were greeted at the door and shown into the ballroom where dozens of people stood in circles of conversation while a chamber orchestra played in the far corner.

    One circle in particular was larger than all the others. Mr. Monroe said ¡°Follow me,¡± and headed directly for it. The pair navigated the rolling sea of flowing dresses and powdered wigs (worn by more of the men than Camden had expected) without incident and arrived on the edge of the circle. Being head and shoulders taller than most everyone in the room, Camden could clearly see why this circle was the largest. Standing at one edge, barely more than an arm¡¯s length from him was another man who stood head and shoulders above the rest of the crowd. It could be none other than General Washington himself.

    Monroe waited patiently for a break in the conversation in order to make himself noticed. Washington turned to deposit the glass from which he had been drinking on one of the many silver trays that servants carried about the room. ¡°Colonel Monroe. How very pleasant it is to see you here this evening.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, sir. It is indeed my pleasure to be amongst such fine company.¡±

    Given their service together during the war, Camden had supposed that their greeting would have been much less formal than this, but the thought quickly evaporated in the presence of a man so universally revered as Washington. He did not think that he had been staring, but he was still jarred a bit when Washington asked ¡°And of course I must ask you to introduce the strapping young man you appear to have brought with you.¡±

    ¡°General Washington, may I present Mr. Camden Page. He is apprenticed to Mr. Joseph Randolph, Esquire, of Richmond, Virginia and has accompanied me here to Philadelphia as an aide.¡±

    Washington took a step forward and shook Camden¡¯s hand, clasping the back of his upper arm as well, and quickly sizing him up and down. Camden knew what it felt like to only very rarely be able to look someone of his same height directly in the face.

    ¡°Colonel Monroe was a fine soldier in his day and I have no doubt he will make many important contributions to this convention. Assist him well now and it will be very beneficial for you, I have no doubt.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, General. I will do my best.¡±

    With that, Washington turned back to the circle and the conversation that he had briefly left. Camden was still somewhat in awe. Here was a man whose exploits and bravery he had only read about; he had never dreamed of meeting the man in person. The descriptions he had read over and over again did Washington justice. Writers could be prone to hyperbole, but in Washington¡¯s case, Camden supposed that overstating his qualities would be difficult. Meeting Washington was an occasion in itself, but Camden marveled still when he thought about his own close connection to a man who was closely connected to General Washington. The thought filled him with no small amount of pride.

    After that, the rest of the party proved to be rather uneventful for Camden, with one exception. At one point, he and Monroe were seated at the edge of the room, merely enjoying the entire visual spectacle. On the other side of the room, almost as if he were trying to remain in the shadows, stood a man dressed in a plain, black suit. He too seemed to be taking a moment to observe the scene, but something about his expression signalled something deeper was going on in his mind. He appeared not gloomy or dour, but rather intensely thoughtful

    Camden tapped Mr. Monroe on the forearm. ¡°Do you know who that is over there in the black suit?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m given to understand that he is a business associate of Mr. Tobin¡¯s. Benjamin Doane is his name, I believe.¡±

    ¡°He doesn¡¯t seem to be enjoying the party,¡± Camden observed.

    ¡°No, he certainly does not.¡± Monroe chuckled and Camden, despite himself, let out a little chuckle too.

    ¡°He has had ample reason to be less than content these past years,¡± said a voice from over Camden¡¯s left shoulder. He turned to see none other than Mr. Tobin. Their host raised a hand briefly to say ¡°I begrudge no man a bit of information--or even idle gossip--every now and then, even if it does involve one of my guests. In his case, however, most everything about him is already known to most of Philadelphia. He was closely tied to the Penn family before the war; it is not hard to see how independence has damaged his financial prospects. He survives, but his status has been much diminished.¡±

    Monroe nodded politely. ¡°You would seem to be right that he has reason to wear a somber countenance, Mr. Tobin.¡± The man of the house returned the nod and then moved on to talk with other guests.

    ¡°Much of that I already knew. But let¡¯s not let that any of that spoil things for us, shall we?¡± said Monroe. ¡°I believe they are going to play another dance in a few minutes, but I don¡¯t suppose you would care to entertain one of the young ladies here by accompanying one of them onto the floor?¡±

    Camden blushed in spite of himself. ¡°I think I¡¯ll save my dances, please, Mr. Monroe.¡± Camden wondered whether Mr. Monroe was simply that perceptive or whether it was he who was just that obvious.

    They ate and drank and mingled and enjoyed the festivities into the early hours of the next day. When the gathering showed few signs of winding down, they thanked their host and took their leave.

    Stepping out into the brisk early morning air, Monroe once again suggested that they walk the short distance back to their lodgings. Camden agreed and, still somewhat in awe of his direct encounter with Washington, ventured to ask Monroe about what it had been like for him to have been so close to a man of such prominence.

    ¡°Regrettably, the relationship between the two of us is not now nearly so cordial as it once was. At one time, Washington most certainly held me in rather high regard. For better or worse, that is no longer the case.¡±

    Camden was amazed by this. ¡°But the General immediately acknowledged you and was nothing but polite.¡±

    ¡°Indeed, Mr. Page, he was nothing but polite. That is precisely my point. His station in life and mine dictate that the both of us must observe certain minimum standards of conduct. With friends, however, one might expect to receive better than the bare minimum of social decency. I fear that this convention may sow the seeds of separation in many such warm friendships before it is done.¡±

    For Camden, this provided far more new questions than answers. Surely there were differing opinions about what to do about the present constitution of the nation, but did it really have to seep into personal relationships as well? As Monroe seemed content to walk the rest of the way in silence, Camden obliged and tucked his questions away for later.

    The shadows that covered the side of the street opposite the Tobin residence suited Nat¡¯s needs perfectly. Some of Mr. Tobin¡¯s servants had been in their cups two nights before and had let slip that he was hosting a gathering for delegates to the convention. If the sort of work that Nat preferred--the sort of work at which he excelled--was available, this would be the most likely place to find it. However, when very few people had trickled out of the residence by midnight, he wondered whether he would be able to stay awake long enough to take advantage of any opportunities.

    Shortly after what he judged to be one o¡¯clock, two men left the house together, one of them so tall and broad that he seemed on the verge of bulging right out of his nice clothes and the other carrying himself with a familiar air that Nat could not quite pin down. From his vantage point, however, he could not make out faces. In any event, they headed off at a brisk pace and he had no desire to catch up with them.

    A few minutes later another man emerged. Nat noticed nothing remarkable about his appearance from that distance, but he did notice that this man did his best to keep to the shadows. Here, perhaps, was the chance for which he had been waiting. Taking a path parallel to the man¡¯s, Nat moved along the other side of the street, escaping the man¡¯s notice. The man stopped after no more than two minutes of walking and Nat could see that a group of men had been waiting to meet him. Concealed by darkness, Nat could not number them with any certainty. He crept as closely as possible, but managed to make out only bits and pieces of the conversation from his place of concealment.

    ¡°Many of them were there, yes, but others have yet to arrive¡± the man from the party said. There was something about a ¡°plan¡± and awaiting further ¡°instructions,¡± but nothing terribly specific, nothing that Nat could use without more information. The meeting broke up within minutes and each of the men went in separate directions. The man from the party went back to the Tobin residence and disappeared inside.

    Unless he sat outside the house all night, Nat could think of no way to be able to discover anything more about the man or his business that required a secret meeting in the earliest hours of the morning. Given that this party was being hosted for delegates to the convention, Nat could only conclude that the convention itself or one, perhaps more, of the delegates was the subject of the meeting. Waiting the rest of the night did not seem terribly likely to yield any more useful information. He stole away from the party to return to his boarding house, confident that information could be found through his usual channels: talkative drinkers at the local taverns.

 Chapter 6

    Camden and Monroe arrived at Independence Hall early on that first morning. It was only today that a sufficient number of delegates had arrived in Philadelphia to constitute a quorum and the area was bustling with activity. Workers arranged the hall where the convention would convene. Delegates mingled and engaged each other in conversation. Camden merely tried to take it all in.

    A short time after they arrived, they were approached by a man that Camden did not recognize. Mr. Monroe greeted him and said ¡°Mr. Mason, this is Camden Page. He is apprenticed to Mr. Joseph Randolph of Richmond and has come to Philadelphia as my assistant. Mr. Page, this is Mr. George Mason.¡±

    Camden shook the elder man¡¯s hand and found that even after the meeting with Washington, he had not yet quite adjusted to the experience of meeting such prominent men. Here, standing in front of him, was the man who had had such a substantial role in drafting not only the Virginia Declaration of Rights but also the first constitution for the independent Commonwealth of Virginia. He was relieved when he perceived that he would not be expected to speak, unsure whether he would find himself temporarily dumbfounded in Mason¡¯s presence.

    ¡°I come on a matter of some urgency, Mr. Monroe. May we speak in private?¡±

    ¡°Yes, of course,¡± said Monroe. ¡°May I ask whether it is a matter to which Mr. Page may be made privy?¡±

    ¡°Certainly!¡± exclaimed Mason. ¡°If he is to assist you in the most effective manner possible, then I am sure you will want him to participate in our conversation.¡±

    The men found a small room away from the crowds and shut the door. The air was warm and stale, but Camden supposed that whatever Mr. Mason had to say, he prized secrecy above all else for the time being.

    ¡°The convention will convene today for the first time,¡± Mason began, ¡°but significant work has already been done by those who arrived before us. It is nothing official, of course, but I have received information that Governor Randolph will present a plan authored by Mr. Madison. It is not merely a proposal to repair the Articles, but rather a complete revision. It would, in fact, be an entirely new constitution and a radical departure from the present form of the general government.¡±

    Monroe straightened his jacket and then scratched his head before responding. ¡°Mr. Henry suspected as much, although perhaps not something of this magnitude and not so quickly. We are prepared for this, are we not?¡±

    ¡°I believe so, yes.¡± Mason sighed and then continued. ¡°I suppose I only wish that the proposal should have come from some corner other than our own, not from fellow Virginians. The Commonwealth will certainly wield significant influence at this convention, so it is with disappointment that I have come to learn that the first proposal from Virginia will be the one that means to cast aside our present constitution. I am sure you know that such a course can only end in one thing, Mr. Page.¡±

    Camden was startled at being addressed directly. He was fairly confident, however, that he knew what Mr. Mason meant. ¡°It would lead to the consolidation of sovereignty in a single, national government. I suppose.¡±

    ¡°I appreciate your humility, young man, but you need not merely ¡®suppose¡¯ on that point. No doubt your mentor has ingrained in you the lawyer¡¯s tendency to couch statements in such terms and for that I cannot blame you. However, in your assisting Mr. Monroe, I counsel you to do him the favor of setting that habit aside for the present.¡±

    Camden nodded in agreement. ¡°I shall do my best, sir.¡±

    ¡°I do not believe that the plan shall be introduced today. We have time, but I believe preparations must be made to introduce a competing plan, one that will address specific concerns with the Articles without rewriting them altogether. Would you and Mr. Page be so kind as to meet with me this evening at the coffee house around the corner from my lodgings?¡±

    ¡°Certainly. Surely we must also enlist the counsel and support of other delegates. Have you anyone in mind for that purpose?¡±

    ¡°I have, in fact, yes. I have invited them to join me this evening as well and shall be pleased to make introductions at that time. Until then, gentlemen.¡±

    Mr. Mason excused himself from the room. Monroe hung back for a moment and tugged on Camden¡¯s shirt so that he would do the same.

    ¡°Until we know better where matters stand, it would be to our advantage not to be seen meeting privately with any particular delegate¡± he said.

    James Burwell, ever the patriarch, always sat at one end of the room in order to be able to observe the entire family at once. Today he was engrossed in the Sunday paper; it was not his usual reading fare, but no one could deny that there was much to read about in the papers of late. Elizabeth, always the dutiful lady of the house, was at his side putting the finishing touches on yet another of her intricate needlework pieces. Randolph, Georgiana¡¯s brother, who had turned fifteen less than a month ago, was trying--and failing--to hide a military history inside the cover of the theological treatise he was supposed to be studying in preparation for his university entrance exams. Georgiana knew that her father would be most displeased, but found no reason to play the tattler today. Her younger sister, Mary Anne, still only a child, really, at just twelve years of age, was following in her eldest sibling¡¯s footsteps and diving headlong into a novel. From across the room, it appeared to be Gulliver¡¯s Travels. Georgiana herself had read the book or pulled it off the shelf just to reminisce enough times to recognize it at a distance.

    Georgiana was in her usual place, at the far end of the room nearest the full-length windows. She treasured those times during which she could lose herself, whether in contemporary novels or the other worlds of Greek mythology, but she always preferred to do so while having a window into the real world. At the moment, her mind was certainly far away from her family¡¯s home in Richmond, but it was not on a deserted island with Robinson Crusoe and Friday as the pages in front of her might have suggested to an observer. Rather, her thoughts had carried her to Philadelphia, a place she had never visited and to which she had only the most tenuous of connections.

    ¡°Father,¡± she asked, ¡°Is there any news of the convention in Philadelphia in the paper today?¡±

    ¡°Pardon me, my dear, what did you say?¡± the Senator responded. Georgiana had not looked too closely before speaking up, but it was more than the occasional Sunday afternoon when her father would take to reading the paper and doze off as he read. She smiled to herself at the thought that he did not want to be teased about falling asleep.

    ¡°I was just wondering whether there is any news in your paper from the convention in Philadelphia. Is there?¡±

    ¡°No, I don¡¯t believe there is. Nothing new, in any event.¡±

    ¡°Oh. Well, have you had any word from there, perhaps?¡±

    ¡°No, I have not.¡± The Senator furrowed his brow in confusion. ¡°I must say, Georgiana, since when have you taken such an interest in politics?

    Georgiana realized--she hoped not too late--that inquiring too deeply into the progress of the convention might make her father suspicious. Indeed, although she had read many political works over the past few years, she had never expressed any sustained interest in such topics to her father. He believed that women lacked both the particular skills necessary to grasp politics and the constitution to bear the often rough and tumble world in which he operated on a daily basis. Georgiana had no immediate desire to disabuse him of those notions.

    ¡°It is only that I know sometimes these sorts of gatherings are the occasion for balls and dances and some newspaper accounts often take note of the women and their fashions. But you say there is no news at all.¡±

    ¡°I see. Well, in fact, I believe there was just such a gathering at the home of Mr. Peter Tobin, a businessman of considerable means. However, I see nothing about that in the paper nor is it the kind of news likely to be deemed so urgent as to be carried back to Richmond with any kind of haste. But I shall remain alert to such stories in the future and show them to you if you wish.¡±

    ¡°Yes, thank you, father.¡±

    Father and daughter went back to their reading--or napping--and Georgiana hoped that her deflection had worked. It was not completely untrue: she did want to know about the social gatherings and was curious about the fashions. She was sure that no young lady on the verge of turning nineteen could deny an interest in such topics. However, she was more interested to hear anything that might be news of the convention itself and, by association, Mr. Camden Page. Surely he had now arrived and had time to write, but the wait had come to be more trying on her patience than she had imagined it would be. If she had not received a letter by her birthday--this coming Saturday, in fact--then she resolved to write another letter to him. Under any other circumstances such an idea would have been outrageously forward of her, but given that she had written the first letter to begin with, she did not think it would do any harm.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°Take some notes for me, please, Mr. Page¡± he said upon entering. Camden sensed that he was either weary of the convention or frustrated or both. He fumbled about for a few clean sheets of paper and prepared to write.

    ¡°Today there was a plan proposed by Mr. Randolph of Virginia,¡± Monroe began, ¡°that would, in my opinion, do nothing less than effect a complete re-writing of the Articles. To call it an amendment would be to do violence to the very definition of the word. Although all plans have been assigned to a committee for further study, I made clear to the convention that our duty was to see how the Articles may be improved, not to discard them entirely. There seemed to be a few who more or less agreed with that general sentiment, but I must speak with them individually to determine precisely where they stand.¡±

    Camden wrote as quickly as he could, making things only so neat as would be necessary for him to decipher his own handwriting later.

    ¡°During a brief recess in the proceedings, I was approached by Mr. Madison, who wished to inquire whether I would meet with him to discuss the plan introduced by Mr. Randolph. I told him that I saw no reason why such a meeting could not be arranged, but nothing firm has been established as of yet.¡±

    Monroe continued in this same manner for nearly half an hour, feverishly emptying the contents of his head, lest the recollections and insights spill out while he slept. Camden tried to keep up, wishing in vain that Mr. Monroe would pause just briefly in order that some of the information could be digested. Learning anything from the discourse, however, would have to be reserved for later. Finally, he finished, and by that point Camden thought that he looked as exhausted as he sounded. He knew the look in Mr. Monroe¡¯s eyes from having seen it in his family after a hard day in the fields. That a man could appear so exhausted from merely sitting in a room and talking and then recalling the events and thoughts of the day was almost too much to believe. And yet here he was and the fatigue that emanated from seemingly every pore of Mr. Monroe¡¯s body was undeniable.

    A few minutes later, Monroe collapsed into bed and fell into a deep sleep--and a well-deserved, one at that, Camden thought. Camden would now need to transcribe his own writing into something usable for Mr. Monroe, but calculated that he still had time to pen his letter to Georgiana. He set his scribblings aside and pulled out the sheet of paper over which he had been hunched in anticipation when Monroe had arrived.

    ¡°Dear Miss Burwell,¡± he began, although the formality of it grated on him. Nevertheless, he resolved that he would not allow himself to make any more costly breaches of social convention.

    <blockquote>

    Dear Miss Burwell,

    I was very much delighted to receive your letter of May 4 upon the day of my departure from Richmond en route to Philadelphia. I must apologize for delaying my reply for so long, but the journey and now attending to Mr. Monroe in preparation for the convention simply has not afforded me any time to myself during which I might write to you.

    Please be completely assured that your desire that we should make better acquaintance of one another is one that I wholeheartedly share. Under the circumstances, I do not at all think it too forward of you for you to have written as you did.

    I greatly appreciate your prayers for a pleasant journey and you may take heart that they have been answered. Mr. Monroe and I were accompanied along the way by various other travelers, but all of them proved to be pleasant people and makers of interesting conversation. We arrived in Philadelphia and I am pleased to report that our accommodations at a local boarding house have proven to be much more than adequate. Mr. Monroe has been terribly busy with all of his work at the convention and it has been my pleasure to assist him in any way that I can.

    Along the way I have been able to read Amelia, the book in which your first letter was delivered. Have you read it? I would be most interested to learn what you thought about it. I hope that you will choose to continue our correspondence, for if the books in which your letters are delivered are all of such a quality as this, I will find my mind greatly enriched.

    I look forward to your next letter with great anticipation and until that I time I remain your humble and obedient servant,

    Camden Page

    Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

    June 5, 1787

    </blockquote>

    Camden set the paper aside. There was still room to write, but he supposed that it would be a simple enough matter to append a postscript at some later time. Now he must busy himself with organizing Mr. Monroe¡¯s notes, a task that could take considerable time. He was expected at Mr. Johnson¡¯s office early the next morning and did not want to appear in that setting as if he had not slept all night. He trimmed the wick on another candle and applied himself to the work at hand.

    Several days after penning his first reply to Georgiana, Camden was jolted out of his reading when Monroe burst into their room with somewhat more haste than usual. The business of the convention must have ended hours ago, Camden thought, and the last light of dusk would shortly fade into night.

    ¡°Mr. Page, you must deliver a message for me.¡± Monroe quickly scratched out a short note, folded it, and scribbled something on the outside. ¡°Please deliver this to Mr. Charles Cotesworth Pinckney. He may be found at the address I have written there.¡±

    ¡°Yes, right away, Mr. Monroe.¡± Camden took the letter and headed for the door. Upon reaching it he turned back and asked ¡°Shall I wait for a reply, sir?¡±

    ¡°No. Just deliver the message. It¡¯s urgent that Mr. Pinckney get the message tonight, but I shall speak to him first thing tomorrow morning at Independence Hall before we convene for the day.¡±

    Camden hurried down the stairs and out the front door. Stepping outside, he realized that it was somewhat darker than he had initially thought. Street lamps had already been lit and he reflected on how different the same scene could look with only a change in the lighting.

    It was only after a few minutes, perhaps halfway to his destination, that Camden thought about the message he had been tasked to deliver. He entertained no thought of opening it, but it struck him as at least a little odd that Mr. Monroe would have such an urgent message to deliver to Mr. Pinckney. Of course, Camden could only learn about the convention through what Mr. Monroe set down each evening for Camden to transcribe, but one of the things that Camden had pieced together very early in the process was that Mr. Pinckney was firmly on the other side of many issues from Mr. Monroe. Where Monroe favored a cautious approach aimed at finding ways to amend the Articles, Pinckney clearly preferred a complete revision. Where Pinckney favored a consolidation of more power in a general government, Monroe held fast to retaining the full sovereignty of the states. Still, despite those stark differences, perhaps the note regarded some compromise proposal that might have interested Mr. Pinckney. The only way to find out was to deliver the message and wait for more information from Mr. Monroe.

    Camden looked up to be sure that he did not miss the street where he was supposed to turn. Finding himself in the correct location, he turned and began to look for the third house from the corner.

    Almost as soon as he laid eyes on the house to which he was to deliver his message, he heard shouting and a loud crash. Picking up his pace, he heard another crash and realized that it was coming from the house where Mr. Pinckney was lodging. He looked up to see that all of the lights inside seemed to have been extinguished. More shouting was followed by the unmistakable crack of a pistol being discharged.

    Just then, three men came running from behind the house, headed away from the house and directly toward Camden. In the dim light of the street lamps, he had barely enough time to realize that one of the men carried a pistol. The men saw Camden at the last minute and split rather than try to knock him down--something they likely would not have been able to do, given his size and strength--but Camden, entirely involuntarily he later thought, lunged at the one man who tried to pass by on his left, wrestling him to the ground.

    About the same time, a woman emerged from the front of the house, her apron covered in blood and shrieking at the top of her lungs.

    ¡°Help! Someone help! Please come quickly!¡±

    As the other two men ran off away from the scene, the man whom Camden had pinned to the ground had managed to get a hand free. Whether from his boot or some other location, he had retrieved a small stiletto. Camden only barely saw the blade coming toward his throat and was able to block the man¡¯s arm. He drove his knee into the man¡¯s chest and heard what he concluded must have been ribs cracking. The man grimaced in pain and dropped the knife, giving Camden the opportunity to roll the man over on his stomach and pin both of his arms underneath him.

    ¡°Don¡¯t try that again,¡± Camden said. The man groaned, though in response to the pain that must be shooting through his entire body, and not in direct reply to his apprehender.

    Just then the first of the night watchmen arrived. Meeting the lady of the house, he accompanied her inside, and within seconds two others from the watch arrived.

    ¡°Over here!¡± Camden called out. ¡°This man just came running away from the house with two other men. One of them had a pistol and this man tried to stab me with that knife.¡± Camden gestured toward the stiletto with a nod of his head.

    Just as the two men working the watch were getting the other man to his feet, one firmly grasping each arm, the same woman with the bloodstained apron emerged from the house, with the first watchman following close in tow. At first she showed no expression at all, merely staring off into the distance. She shuffled slowly forward, stopping about halfway between the house and the street, and collapsed to her knees just beyond the gentle amber glow of the nearest street lamp. Over the growing hum of a gathering crowd, Camden could barely make out the sound of her sobbing, a sobbing which soon turned to uncontrollable weeping. Another man and woman emerged from inside the house, servants judging by their dress, and helped the grieving woman to her feet.

    The first member of the watch walked with purpose over to the other two men, who were now binding the stiletto-wielding man¡¯s hands with some rope provided by someone from the crowd.

    ¡°Take him to the jail. I will alert the aldermen that Mr. Pinckney is dead.¡±

    ¡°Mr. Page, it has been decided that the convention will take a recess in order to allow for the mourning of Mr. Pinckney. Given these events, I will leave tonight for Richmond in order to meet with Mr. Randolph and hopefully Mr. Henry.¡±

    Monroe leaned forward, resting his face in his hands. Camden sensed that there was something more that he wanted to say, so he waited.

    ¡°You know, of course, that Mr. Pinckney agreed with Mr. Madison and others about the need for a new constitution with a stronger general government.¡±

    Camden thought that was an odd thing to bring up at this exact moment, but he responded with a tentative ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Then you must also understand what it means that the man you helped apprehend was found to be in the possession of a tract calling into question the motives of those who pushed for the convention. The tract was published under the name Zeno, but it is an open secret who the real author is.¡±

    Camden had been absorbed in his studies and his correspondence with Georgiana. Had he even known of the pamphlet he would not have had time to read it, let alone investigate its true source.

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid it¡¯s a secret that is not known to me, sir.¡±

    Monroe sighed again, but this time it seemed somehow sadder.

    ¡°The author was Governor Henry.¡±

 Chapter 7

    Georgiana¡¯s inkwell was ready and she had paper enough at hand. Her father was off attending to business of the General Assembly, allaying any concern that her illicit correspondence might be discovered. Putting the letter from Mr. Page to one side, she began to write.

    <blockquote>

    Dear Mr. Page,

    I am very pleased to learn that you have received my first letter and also to have received your letter in reply just this morning when I went to visit my uncle.

    I have, indeed, read Amelia, and find it to be rather an interesting work, although it was my uncle and not I who chose the book in which to enclose my letter. As I am sure you must suspect after having read the book, it is highly doubtful that his selection was made haphazardly. The story of Mrs. Atkinson has fueled no small amount of discussion between my uncle and me regarding the feminine intellect. Harder to discern, of course, is precisely what the author intended to say on the topic--whether he sympathizes with those who view women with a sharp intellect as threatening. I should think it apparent that I am firmly on the side of those women who wish to develop their intellectual abilities beyond the point that much of society deems acceptable. We have different roles to fulfill, naturally--whether as wife or mother--but those are roles that we may fill just as well--perhaps better, I think--having educated ourselves and developed the powers of thinking that have so far been deemed fit only for men.

    It is just that sort of intellectual development which prompts me to ask you what news you may have of the convention in Philadelphia. I must not indulge my interest in politics beyond a level that my father deems acceptable for a young lady, both because he would not approve, but also because I fear my showing too great an interest in the events in Philadelphia could reveal our correspondence before the time for such revelation is right. Nevertheless, because you are so close to what is going on and can provide something of a firsthand account, I would be remiss if I did not request that your letters contain at least some small pieces of information about the convention.

    </blockquote>

    Before continuing, Georgiana pondered whether to write anything about a recent incident involving her family. She hesitated only because the developing interaction between the two of them was so new that she could not accurately predict how it would be received.

    <blockquote>

    I must also relate a story that I hope you will find amusing. I preface it, however, by assuring you that although I take some small degree of pleasure from sizing up my wits alongside that of others, I never do so out of malice. In any event, it was last week that my parents hosted a dinner party for a number of guests. Among them was a young merchant from Williamsburg, a man of nearly thirty I estimate, who must have been intended by my parents as a potential suitor for me. We were seated together during dinner and, regrettably, his conversation, while not impolite by any means, was simple and uninteresting. The conversation turned to politics and he ventured to offer his opinion on the ongoing convention in Philadelphia. He said that as far as he was concerned the convention must produce radical changes lest the country descend into anarchy. I perceived that some heads at the table nodded in agreement, but I ventured to ask him a question. I asked him whether, if in our dread of anarchy we ended merely in establishing a bad government, would that not be rather like saying we should kill ourselves for fear of dying of disease. The dumbfounded expression on his face was quite a sight to behold. Whether he was more shocked at the question or that a young woman should have been the one to ask it I am not sure. Fortunately for him, father dismissed my question with a laugh and a wave of his hand and some remark about his silly daughter and her feminine notions about politics.

    </blockquote>

    Georgiana paused again, still unsure whether she should include this anecdote or start the letter anew. Mr. Page was clearly an intelligent man or Mr. Randolph would not have agreed to take him on as an apprentice in the first place. Surely he could appreciate the element of humor in the situation. It occurred to her, however, that leaving the story in her letter also might give her an opportunity to learn something about the young man. She resolved to send the letter as written and came to her conclusion.

    <blockquote>

    Although I am not personally acquainted with Mr. Monroe, please do me the favor of conveying to him my encouragement in the work that he is there to do. Upon my last visit to my uncle¡¯s house he explained to me what he believes is at stake in Philadelphia and how he believes Mr. Monroe has an important task ahead of him.

    If time permits me I will deliver this letter to my uncle later today in the hope that it shall reach you as soon as possible. I hope you will find the book in which it will eventually be enclosed to be enjoyable to read.

    Georgiana Burwell

    </blockquote>

    She found it odd that the one thing she felt so unsure about was how to close her letters. She had no desire to use a formal closing of the sort her father might use in corresponding with his political or business connections. The two of them were already separated by such physical distance, that Georgiana feared using any language in her letters that tended to separate them in rhetorical terms.

    At the same time, she had already been perhaps too bold by half in being the one to initiate the correspondence. A closing that was too familiar might prove to be just as counterproductive as one that came across as too cold and distant. It was awkward, she thought, to close her letters so abruptly, but she could think of no other solution at the moment.

    She folded the letter carefully, tucked it inside the copy of Dr. Johnson¡¯s Lives she had borrowed from her uncle, and headed downstairs. She visited her uncle¡¯s library regularly, but even so, she calculated that she must not allow the frequency of her visits to arouse suspicion. Her letter would have to wait until tomorrow.

    First, however, he spent perhaps much longer than he had intended thinking about what to say in response to the anecdote about the businessman from Williamsburg. Far from being concerned that Georgiana had treated the man unkindly or in a manner so as to embarrass him, Camden found that he was much more worried that he would return to Richmond only to find that she was engaged to be married to some man of her parents¡¯ choosing. As soon as he had identified that apprehension in himself, he quickly realized that he had almost no grounds whatsoever upon which to complain if she were, in fact, to become engaged. They really did only just barely know one another. Despite that fact, his attraction to her was strong; the reasons why such a newborn attraction should be so strong so soon escaped him almost entirely. On the one hand, he felt that he had no right to broach the topic with her, but he simultaneously felt that he must do so.

    Another reason he hesitated to put ink to paper was that he could not decide whether to broach the death of Mr. Pinckney. News would certainly be reported in all the papers, but to inform Miss Burwell that he had been so close to the incident--and that he had nearly been killed in the process--was something he did not quite know how to do. In the end, he felt compelled not to worry her about his well being.

    Finally, he set out to simply begin writing and see where his thoughts would lead him. He got no further than putting the date at the top of the page, however, before the church bells began to ring. He rose to leave, but returned to his desk very briefly to pen just the letter¡¯s opening.

    <blockquote>

    Dear Miss Burwell,

    Having only just this minute sat myself down to write you, I am immediately called away at the sound of church bells. My desire to write to you is strong, but equally strong is my desire to keep the promise I made to my aunt before I ever left for Richmond to attend Sunday services every week.

    </blockquote>

    That promise seemed to him as if it had been made almost in another lifetime, so far was he from the plain front porch where he had bid farewell to his aunt those months ago. Setting the papers aside he made his way downstairs and over to the church.

    The church had been selected by Mr. Monroe, apparently because it was located within a convenient distance from their lodgings. Monroe, having more or less married into his religion only the year before, was an Episcopalian. Camden did not consider himself an adherent of any particular denomination, but had dutifully attended the Methodist church to which his aunt and uncle belonged in New Kent. So it was with some small amount of apprehension that he had first entered Seventh Street Presbyterian Church.

    Despite his haste that morning, Camden arrived just after services had begun. As he slipped into the end of one of the pews near the back, he noted to himself that he had not promised his aunt that he would be exactly on time to services every week. By now the order of worship was at least somewhat familiar to him, but he was not particularly immersed in the service. The pastor rose to give the sermon, and took his Scripture reading from the fifth chapter of the Acts of the Apostles:

    <blockquote>

    And when they had brought them, they set them before the council: and the high priest asked them, Saying, Did not we straitly command you that ye should not teach in this name? and, behold, ye have filled Jerusalem with your doctrine, and intend to bring this man''s blood upon us. Then Peter and the other apostles answered and said, We ought to obey God rather than men. The God of our fathers raised up Jesus, whom ye slew and hanged on a tree. Him hath God exalted with his right hand to be a Prince and a Saviour, for to give repentance to Israel, and forgiveness of sins. And we are his witnesses of these things; and so is also the Holy Ghost, whom God hath given to them that obey him. When they heard that, they were cut to the heart, and took counsel to slay them.

    </blockquote>

    Camden could not recall having ever heard a sermon from that particular passage of Scripture, but before long his thoughts had drifted from the pastor¡¯s exposition of the passage to other things. What could it mean that one of the men responsible for the murder of Mr. Pinckney was found in possession of a pamphlet by Mr. Henry? And aside from that, what would the revelation of that information mean for the convention itself and the prospect of holding the states together?

    Before Camden had the chance to get any nearer to answering those questions, he started at the opening of the door at the back of the sanctuary. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a man standing at the back of the church. Turning just enough to get a better look at the man--but without seeming to be staring at him--Camden could see that the man¡¯s clothes were disheveled and the man also seemed to be unsteady on his feet. A ghastly burn scar dominated one side of his face. He scanned the sanctuary as if he were looking for someone, but as the man stumbled forward a step or two, Camden concluded that he was probably only drunk and looking for a place to sleep it off. They locked eyes for an instant and Camden looked away immediately.

    The man started moving with more purpose and then, to Camden¡¯s horror, he headed straight for the pew in which Camden was seated. He looked straight ahead, pretending not to notice what was happening, but he could feel the eyes on him.

    The embarrassing nightmare then turned into reality, when the man sat down directly beside Camden. The odor of alcohol was unmistakable.

    The man simply sat there for a few minutes, his breathing a little raspy and heavy. Eventually, he leaned over as if he were about to say something. Camden¡¯s heart jumped into his throat and he was certain at that moment his face must have been the brightest shade of red imaginable. Instead of speaking, however, the man simply put a small, folded piece of paper in Camden¡¯s hand. He then rose and half-walked, half-staggered toward the back of the church and left the way he came.

    Camden peered down, moving only his eyes, and unfolded the paper as carefully as he could, not knowing what to expect. It said ¡°Meet me outside after the service.¡± He crumpled it and put it in his pocket, and unsuccessfully tried to direct his attention back to the sermon.

    Stepping outside into the heat of the early afternoon sun, he carefully scanned the street for any sign of the rough-looking man who had given him the note. Seeing none, he stepped into the street and turned back toward the boarding house. Just a few yards on his way, however, Camden felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see that the man with the note was right behind him.

    ¡°You¡¯d best start watching your back a little more carefully, young man. You¡¯re big, yes, but that won¡¯t help you much if you¡¯re not prepared for surprises.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Camden said, turning to face the man, and rising up to his full height. ¡°Do I know you? And what do you mean telling me to watch my back?¡±

    ¡°I mean no harm. I¡¯ll be happy to explain if you could be so kind as to introduce me to Mr. James Monroe.¡±

    Camden felt very uneasy at how much this stranger seemed to know about him. Almost involuntarily, he peered over his shoulder to see who else was out and about.

    ¡°That¡¯s more like it, yes, but you need not fear me, Mr. Page.¡± Camden reeled a little at the thought that this stranger had been able to discover his name. ¡°Allow me to introduce myself. I am Nathaniel Aldridge, though most in Philadelphia call me ¡®Nat.¡¯ Some years ago, I had the privilege of fighting for our independence as part of Virginia¡¯s Third Regiment. You no doubt recognize that fighting unit, do you not?¡±

    ¡°It was the unit in which Mr. Monroe served.¡± Camden furrowed his brow. The fact that Monroe was part of the Third Regiment was not exactly a secret.

    ¡°Of course, it¡¯s no secret that Mr. Monroe served in Virginia¡¯s Third, but not many men can claim to have something like this.¡±

    The man calling himself Aldridge reached into a pocket and pulled out a yellowed piece of paper that he unfolded and handed to Camden. Taking it he could see that it was a sort of ¡°letter of introduction.¡± The handwriting, at least at a first glance, appeared to be very similar, if not identical to, Monroe¡¯s. The letter was also signed at the bottom in a signature that was a splendid forgery of Monroe¡¯s if it was not genuine.

    Camden handed back the letter, but said nothing. ¡°If that¡¯s not enough for you, the only other thing I can do to show that I knew Mr. Monroe is to tell you about the Battle of Trenton.¡±

    ¡°Anyone could have read about the Battle of Trenton.¡±

    ¡°Yes, of course, but not everyone could tell you something that only Mr. Monroe or someone who was by his side during the battle could know, now could they?¡±

    Camden remained silent, but squinted his eyes a bit, anticipating what sort of story he was about to hear.

    ¡°Lieutenant Monroe--for so he was before moving up in the ranks--he was wounded in the chest that day, after taking command when Captain Washington fell, wounded in both hands. Several men carried him away from the front after he fell, but no one seemed to be able to find a doctor. I searched for and found a doctor who happened to be in Trenton that day, a Dr. Riker. He stitched Mr. Monroe up, surely saving his life, but in the rush of the moment no one ever learned his first name. Afterwards, when Mr. Monroe chanced to visit me as I recovered from my burns¡± --here he gestured toward the left side of his face and the scar that dominated it-- ¡°he asked me to tell him the doctor¡¯s full name so that he could express his thanks. He was quite disappointed that no one seemed to know exactly who the doctor was.¡±

    Camden noted that this corresponded perfectly with the details of the Battle of Trenton that Mr. Monroe had related to him. Whoever this man was, Camden decided that he must surely have known Monroe at one point or another. ¡°I suppose you are who you say you are, Mr. Aldridge, but I cannot take you to Mr. Monroe. He has left town. The convention is in recess, as I¡¯m sure you know already.¡±

    ¡°I see,¡± said Aldridge. ¡°If I cannot speak to Mr. Monroe, then I will have to speak to you. But not here. Meet me at the Laughing Fox tavern in half an hour.¡±

    Camden still could not bring himself to completely trust this man who had shown up out of nowhere, stinking of alcohol. He headed back to the boarding house, resolved not to rendezvous with this Aldridge. They had met once and he was sure that they would do so again if Aldridge wanted it.

    Rounding the corner past the empty site of the convention, Camden halted in place at the sight of a group of men not far ahead. He thought he recognized one of them, but moved into the shadows to get a better look without himself being detected. On a second, more sustained look, he became sure of his initial impression: one of the men directly ahead of him was the same man who had nearly run him over on the night of Pinckney¡¯s murder. It was the man who had been carrying the pistol.

    Not knowing quite what to do, Camden waited. The men did not seem to notice him and although he was close enough to make out their facial features, they were speaking in hushed tones. The group broke up presently and almost without thought, Camden made as if to follow the man he recognized. All in an instant, his mind went over how dangerous it might be to follow this man, the chief suspect in a gruesome murder. He would have stood in place but for the fact that the odds of his having another encounter with this man were certainly very low. He supposed that he could have attempted to alert the watch, but in the meantime, where would this man secrete himself? If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    The man left, walking south, and Camden followed, but at a considerable distance. There were still some people out at this time of the evening, but not so many that being followed would be difficult to detect if Camden were not careful.

    A few minutes later, the man arrived at the same building where Camden had arrived in Philadelphia several weeks ago. Camden watched as the man retrieved a satchel from inside the building and then boarded the waiting coach.

    About a quarter of an hour later, the coach left. Camden was at a loss about what to do next. The only thing he could think to do was to ply one of the porters for information.

    ¡°Excuse me, sir,¡± he said to a man who was about his same size, but perhaps twice his age, ¡°my master has sent me to inquire whether that was the last coach bound for Baltimore tonight?¡±

    ¡°That coach goes to New York,¡± the man said with a bit of a sneer. ¡°The coach to Baltimore don¡¯t leave until tomorrow morning at 7:30.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I had not realized. Thank you.¡±

    Camden was surprised at his newfound ability to play the detective, but could not conceive of what to do next. Then the next step struck him. He was not fond of the idea, but for now he could think of nothing better. He reasoned that he would not likely find the place until late in the evening and also reasoned that he would prefer not to be there at that hour once he did find it. Tomorrow, however, he would pay a visit to Nat Aldridge at the Laughing Fox.

    No one seemed to be attending to the bar--or attending to much of anything, it seemed--and so he surveyed the space for himself. If Aldridge was here he was hidden well, Camden thought. Making his way toward the back of the tavern he poked his head into a small room and grimaced at the overwhelming smell of vomit. Quickly continuing his search he came upon a man who was slumped over a small table that was still filled with an assortment of empty mugs and bottles. Putting his face down near the table, he could tell that this was Aldridge.

    ¡°Mr. Aldridge,¡± Camden said, at a volume he believed should have been sufficient to arouse a sleeping man. Aldridge did not move. Camden then tapped him firmly on the shoulder, but that was also to no avail. A bucket of water might have done the trick, he thought, but there was none at hand, so Camden took a step back and kicked the chair completely out from under Aldridge with a single blow, sending the man to the floor and causing a not-quite empty bottle of whiskey to fall on his face. He then woke up, sputtering and confused.

    ¡°What? Who¡¯s there?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s me, Mr. Aldridge. Camden Page. We have business to attend to.¡±

    ¡°Well, drop that ¡®Mr. Aldridge¡¯ nonsense will you?¡± he said, struggling a bit to pull himself to a sitting position. He leaned himself up against the wall and mopped his whiskey-soaked face with a handkerchief. ¡°Just ¡®Nat¡¯ will do.¡±

    ¡°Very well. What was it that led you to contact me?¡±

    ¡°How did Mr. Monroe come to be a delegate to this convention?¡±

    It seemed a very odd question to Camden, but then, he had no previous experience with questioning men recently roused from a drunken stupor. ¡°I don¡¯t see what that--¡±

    ¡°Just follow me. What were the circumstances leading to his appointment as a delegate?¡±

    ¡°Well, I remember there was some deliberation at the General Assembly. Mr. Monroe met with various people in Richmond. Then--¡±

    ¡°No. Before that. Why did any of that happen in the first place?¡±

    Camden thought for a moment. ¡°Do you mean the accident involving Dr. McClurg?¡±

    ¡°Precisely.¡± Here Nat paused. ¡°But what if it was no accident?¡±

    Camden was now more puzzled than ever. It had been reported that Dr. McClurg had drifted in and out of consciousness before eventually succumbing to his injuries. But all of the information gleaned from his incoherent and fever-ridden ramblings seemed to confirm everyone¡¯s initial assumption: his injuries were due to a very unfortunate accident and nothing more.

    ¡°How could you possibly know that it was anything other than an accident?¡± Camden asked, the disbelief apparent in his voice.

    ¡°Because in this very tavern one of the men that did the deed let it slip. That¡¯s how. He was sitting no more than ten feet from where you now stand.¡±

    All of this was too much to analyze at the moment. What possible reason could there be to murder someone like Dr. McClurg? He was a superlative doctor by all accounts, but his political life to that point was practically nonexistent as far as Camden was aware. Killing him seemed to make no sense at all.

    ¡°Now do you see why I had to try to contact Mr. Monroe?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure I do.¡±

    ¡°Supposing it were revealed that Dr. McClurg was, in fact, murdered. Put that together with the clear murder of another delegate to the convention, one whose ideas were well known, and one whose murderers were found to be in possession of a pamphlet by one Mr. Patrick Henry, who is a known mentor to James Monroe, who was only in Philadelphia because of the untimely death of Dr. McClurg.¡±

    Camden¡¯s head began to swim. The connections that Aldridge drew were tenuous, it was true, but they could not be summarily dismissed either. He felt in his very soul that Monroe was an honest man, the sort who it would be ridiculous to accuse of this sort of treachery. But he also worried that his intimacy with the man could well have blinded him to reality.

    ¡°Then what do you propose that we do with this information . . . Nat?¡±

    ¡°I should have thought that much was obvious, Mr. Page. We must exonerate Mr. Monroe.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s get going, Nat. The overnight carriage will arrive any minute now.¡±

    Nat merely grunted. They had been monitoring the comings and goings of the coaches from the post to which Camden had followed the man the previous week. So far neither of them had recognized anyone and they were both beginning to give up hope. Camden tossed Nat a boot that had been left in the far corner. He set it to the side of the bed and finished pulling on his breeches.

    A few minutes later he found himself outside, walking alongside the young apprentice and nibbling on a piece of bread. It was fresh-baked, which was better than his usual fare, and so he gave the young man credit where it was due. Still, he had to wonder whether this surveillance would prove fruitful in the end. Perhaps other means at his disposal would be more effective.

    They arrived at their usual observation point just as the coach from New York pulled up. Porters began unloading baggage, and a number of people emerged. Nat watched them, taking note of their faces and other features, and as the last man stepped down into the street, Camden lightly tapped him on the forearm.

    ¡°That¡¯s him. The one with the tall hat was at the scene of Pinckney¡¯s murder. Do we follow him now?¡±

    ¡°No, we do not. I will follow him and you will attend to your apprenticeship.¡±

    ¡°But, Nat--¡±

    ¡°None of that. I can slip in and out of just about any place that he might go without being noticed. You stick out like a sore thumb. If you want to clear the good name of Mr. Monroe then you must keep your wits about you.¡±

    The man retrieved only a small bag from one of the porters and then began to make his way to whatever was his destination. Nat glanced over at his young companion who nodded his head slowly in a sign of half-agreement, half-resignation. Nat waited for the appropriate moment to step from his sheltered observation point and then followed the man at a safe distance.

    The man in the tall hat seemed to be in no particular hurry, nor did he seem to suspect that he might be followed. He seemed to Nat to be headed directly for his destination. So much the better.

    After about ten minutes they reached Smith¡¯s Tavern. It was, perhaps, one of the few taverns in Philadelphia where Nat would not have been considered a regular. In addition to the food and drink available on the first level, Smith¡¯s also offered several rooms to let upstairs. Nat concluded that it must have been to one of those rooms that the man in the tall hat had gone, because when Nat entered the tavern the man was nowhere to be seen downstairs. He spied a small table where he could watch both the front door and the stairs and sat down, ordering a mug of the house brew to pass the time. He promised himself that he would stop after one. No more than two.

    Before he had finished the first, however, the man descended the stairs. He was not rushing, Nat thought, but he moved with a sense of urgency it seemed. He approached Smith, who was attending to something at the door and said, with just a hint of an accent, ¡°I¡¯m expecting someone shortly. Please send him up to my room when he gets here.¡±

    Nat was sure that he recognized the man¡¯s voice, but he could not immediately place it. But then it struck him like a slap in the face. The man¡¯s accent hinted that he was from London. But it was the deep tone of his voice that gave him away. This man was the same man Nat had overheard months ago at the Laughing Fox. He was certain of it.

    As soon as the front door closed and Nat was sure that he could move without notice, he made for the stairs. Finding the first of three doors locked, he knocked, and waited for an answer. Hearing none after some time, he pulled a set of tools from his pocket and quickly undid the lock and found the room to be unoccupied. On the bed, however, was the small bag that the man had taken from the coach earlier that morning. Nat stepped into the room and closed the door.

    The room was sparsely furnished. A bed, a small table, and a single chair took up most of the floor space. Opening the bag, Nat rummaged through its contents. He was disappointed, however, to find nothing of use. The man seemed to carry no papers of any kind. A small bill had been laid on the desk, but it appeared only to be addressed to a ¡°Mr. John Brown,¡± surely a false name, Nat concluded. He supposed that ¡°Mr. Brown¡± would have to do for now.

    Just as he began replacing the items in the bag exactly as he found them, a knock came at the door. Nat instinctively reached for and quickly retrieved the knife from his boot and held it behind his back. Even as he hoped that he would not find himself needing to use the knife, he settled into the chair and said, ¡°Come in.¡±

    The door opened slowly, creaking in a way it had not seemed to when Nat came to the room, and a boy of no more than sixteen peered cautiously through the crack.

    ¡°I was told to bring this letter here, sir.¡± He extended an unsteady hand toward Nat.

    ¡°Is that the one that just arrived from New York?¡± Nat had to glean as much information as possible and judged that this boy was not likely to question him or report anything afterwards.

    ¡°The same, sir. Yes.¡±

    ¡°Just toss it on the bed, then.¡±

    The boy obeyed without hesitation then gently closed the door. Nat waited to hear his footsteps reach the bottom of the stairs before reaching for the letter. It was sealed. He knew that to open it would alert this Mr. Brown that someone had discovered him. The only option remaining to him was to take the letter with him and hope that its absence would not be noticed by Mr. Brown or would be attributed to a tardy courier. He slipped the letter into his pocket and stole out of the tavern just as carefully as he had entered it.

    Arriving at his own room, he opened the letter. Even if they had been so careless as to let Nat follow one of them, they were not so careless as to use real names. Despite that anonymity, however, what Nat read would surely, he thought, lead them to the men who had killed Pinckney and McClurg and reveal their motivations. But they must move quickly. The whiskey on his table called to him, but the quest to find the truth, at least on this day, found its pull to be so much the greater. He locked his room and headed across town to find Camden.

    Mr. Randolph had sent him three books this time: a treatise on criminal law, a summarized treatment of the law of wills and estates, and a copy of Gulliver¡¯s Travels. The novel held what he was looking for and taking out Georgiana¡¯s letter, he carefully unfolded it and sat down near the window to read it. It began with ¡°Dear Cam,¡± a nickname known only to his immediate family, but one he had asked her to use. She continued:

    <blockquote>

    I am most glad that you have let me in on the secret family nickname. Continuing to address you formally only grew more and more awkward for me and knowing that you felt the same way is a relief.

    I am also relieved to hear that you are safe. You can certainly imagine what a commotion the news of the murder of Mr. Pinckney caused, even here in Richmond. To learn, even belatedly, that you were very nearly at the scene of the crime as it happened concerns me greatly. Because I believe that we are no longer merely acquaintances, it is with only a little hesitation that I ask that you promise me you will be careful. Perhaps I have little right to expect you to promise me any such thing, but it seems to me that unless I make such a request now, there might never come a day when I could claim the right to do so. Attribute all of this to the unfounded fears of a young woman if you must, but promise me just the same.

    </blockquote>

    Camden paused for a moment. It appeared as if Georgiana had begun to write something after the phrase ¡°unfounded fears of a young woman,¡± but had scratched it out. Had it been anyone else¡¯s letter he almost certainly would have kept on going, but for Camden, every inkblot and sweep of Georgiana¡¯s pen was treasured.

    <blockquote>

    Although he rarely talks of politics at home, father seems very distressed at the news coming from Philadelphia. He is, of course, saddened by the death of Mr. Pinckney, but I gather that he also fears for the fate of the convention itself. The tide had been flowing in the direction of men such as my father and Mr. Madison who wished to see a new form of government. The recess, he believes, does not bode well for the pace of their progress. He fears the tide may even begin to recede when delegates return.

    </blockquote>

    Mr. Randolph had strongly suspected that Senator Burwell leaned toward Mr. Madison and a stronger general government. This revelation from Georgiana only served to confirm that suspicion, but this sort of information would be critical once the convention adjourned and delegates returned to Virginia. Whatever the outcome in Philadelphia, knowing one¡¯s political allies and adversaries in Richmond was essential.

    <blockquote>

    Do please continue to relay what you have learned about the convention through Mr. Monroe. The summary of the debates included in your last letter was excellent; I almost felt as if I had been there myself. If Mr. Monroe is even half as persuasive as your letter led me to believe, I can only conclude that his arguments will have shaped whatever it is that the convention eventually produces. Although he and I are not acquainted and I could not do so myself, please encourage him in his work. I doubt I need to remind you just how important it is that voices like his are heard.

    You are in my prayers daily and, with God¡¯s grace, I await with patience the day when we shall speak face to face once more. Affectionately, Georgiana.

    </blockquote>

    He found it impossible to do anything other than write his reply immediately. He told himself that he should write his reply now because there were a few books that he needed to return to Mr. Randolph today, on the midday coach. With that justification out of the way, he began to write.

    ¡°Dear Georgiana,¡± he began, the new intimacy of the opening sending a thrill all the way down his spine and into his toes.

    <blockquote>

    I received your letter only just this morning, but felt with all my being that I must write to you immediately. I write not because of any urgent matters about which I must inform you, but rather because of the felicitous mood your letter has caused in me.

    Your concern for my safety is not at all an unreasonable one. Nor would I deny that you are in a position to make such a request of me. As only an aide to Mr. Monroe, and not a man of any importance on my own, I feel confident that I am safe from those who might be responsible for Mr. Pinckney¡¯s death. Nevertheless, I give you my promise that I shall exercise all due caution.

    </blockquote>

    That was a promise that he intended to keep, but he still felt uneasy about not revealing just how close to events he had become. To tell her of Nat and the sighting of the man involved in Pinckney¡¯s murder would be sure to cause Georgiana only further worry. He would be as careful as possible, he told himself, but he must pursue the full truth.

    <blockquote>

    When Mr. Monroe returns I shall not fail to offer him the encouragement he deserves. As you are surely aware, the convention recently took a recess in order to mourn the death of Mr. Pinckney. In the meantime I continue to do my assigned readings and meet with Mr. Randolph¡¯s former partner periodically in order to continue my apprenticeship.

    Mr. Monroe and I have been attending the Seventh Street Presbyterian Church while here in Philadelphia. It is, of course, quite a departure from the Episcopal church of Mr. Monroe and the Methodist church of my upbringing, but it has been, nevertheless, an enlightening experience. When my aunt insisted that I attend religious services every Sunday, she probably never foresaw that I might fulfill that promise by attending a Presbyterian church. Recently the sermon text was taken from the fifth chapter of Acts. At the time it did not occur to me, but having had time to reflect on the passage somewhat, the account of the apostles facing the authorities seems very appropriate for these recent days. While men of great influence meet in a small room in one corner of Philadelphia to debate what form of government is best, the Christian religion makes perfectly clear that we ought to obey God rather than men. I think that command seems to be no less clear and certain regardless of the form the government might take. Would time permit it, I think there would be much benefit in studying the Scriptures for other passages that address the relationship between Christians and the government, but aside from the brief time of rest on Sunday, Mr. Randolph¡¯s law books consume the entirety of my reading time.

    </blockquote>

    He was unsure how to close his letter. That Georgiana prayed for him was almost too much to fathom. He cursed the fact that he could not honestly respond to her in kind. The Bible provided him some measure of intellectual challenge, but it was clear to him that the sort of devotion to Christianity with which Georgiana was infused was alien to him. He considered church a necessary part of his life, of course, but wondered what he lacked that he saw in others. He put the thought aside for the moment and concluded his letter, signing ¡°with the warmest regards of my heart, Cam.¡± He hoped that it would strike the right note somewhere between too formal and too familiar.

    No sooner had he folded his letter and placed it in one of the books to be sent back to Richmond, then a knock came at the door. He opened it to see Nat standing there. Camden did not have time to invite him in before the man had crossed the room, sat down in the other chair, and dropped a letter on the table.

    ¡°You need to have a look at this.¡±

    It took several minutes for Camden to read the letter. He finished and looked up at Nat.

    ¡°A lot of it is lost on you I see¡± the older man said.

    ¡°Yes, I believe so, but can you explain? I see names and addresses and such, but I do not see how the pieces fit together.¡±

    Nat took the letter back from him. ¡°The names are fakes, naturally. They¡¯re more careful than that. But the addresses are real and they tell much. Each one of these is a tavern and each one was, during the war, a well-known meeting place for Loyalists of varying stripes. A few were also havens for British spies.¡±

    Camden didn¡¯t think that he had, but his face must have betrayed his surprise.

    ¡°How can I know that? I worked with them. Not long after Trenton the army had need of spies, men who had plausible reasons to cooperate with the British, but who would in fact remain loyal to the cause of independence. I was one such man and that is how I, a Virginian, came to reside in Pennsylvania.

    Now that the war has been over for a number of years, they must feel that it is safe to start using their old rendezvous points again. In truth, the odds of someone like me being the one to discover them are so remote that it is an understandable mistake. In any event, this makes it easier to find out exactly who is behind all of this. Given this list of contacts--two dozen here and surely more we do not know about--something big is afoot.¡±

    ¡°But where does that leave our goal of exonerating Mr. Monroe?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t be certain. The spy rings during the war were more or less rooted out, but there were some for which we never found our way all the way to the top. Among the Americans who were implicated, however, I never recall even so much as a hint at a connection to James Monroe.¡±

    ¡°What do we do now? There must be a way to expose these men.¡±

    ¡°For us, there is very little to do. I, however, will travel to New York tomorrow to overhear what occurs at this meeting. They¡¯ve had it planned for some time now, so the man you saw earlier will show up there despite not receiving this letter.¡±

    ¡°I cannot simply stand by and watch events that might ruin Mr. Monroe transpire while I do nothing. There must be something I can do.¡±

    Nat paused. ¡°In fact, there is something you can do. Where is your purse?¡±

 Chapter 8

    Nat had taken the first available coach to New York. ¡°Mr. Brown¡± would have to leave the same day as well, but he wanted to avoid getting on the same coach with him at all costs. With Camden¡¯s help, the absent Mr. Monroe had supplied the money both for the coach and for the night¡¯s lodging. They both reasoned--Camden more reluctantly--that Mr. Monroe surely would consent to loan Nat the money if only he had been there and known the circumstances.

    The rendezvous point was a long walk to the north of where the ferry disembarked, but Nat found a boarding house near the river, rather than risk arousing any suspicion from those he intended to spy upon by coincidentally ending up in the bedroom across the hall. He went over the letter again carefully, trying to recall which suspected spies had never been uncovered. If the time came, he needed to be able to dispose of the letter altogether while retaining its contents. Having satisfied himself that he had memorized all the most important parts, he folded the letter into a tiny square and hid it near the heel of his right boot.

    He had purchased some brandy the evening before. On any other occasion, he would have spent the morning trying to find his way to the bottom of that bottle. However, today he knew that there would be no room for error and no margin for dulled senses.

    Nat left the boarding house several hours before the meeting, which was to take place at midnight. He found a nameless tavern not too far from his ultimate destination and purchased a meal for himself. The ale was in no way the equal of what was available at the Laughing Fox, but it would do to slake his thirst. The beef stew, however, was better than any he had tasted in quite some time. It was so good, in fact, that he found himself still thinking about it an hour later as he waited in the shadows near where the secret meeting was to take place.

    He arrived early to find the best location for listening without detection and for making a quick escape if necessary. Just as he was pondering whether including some leeks might have improved the stew, he heard steps approaching, first from his left and then from several directions all at once. In the darkness it was hard to tell just how many people had gathered, but from the dark silhouettes he was sure there were at least three and perhaps a fourth.

    Nat took note of the fact that the men exchanged no passwords or hand signals. Even in the dark they knew and trusted each other on sight. As secluded as they were in this area, they did not seem to think it necessary to lower their voices too much. Nat was able to make out the conversation clearly.

    ¡°Gentlemen, I trust that everything is proceeding according to plan. We can have no more errors like you did with Pinckney, Mr. Thompson.¡±

    ¡°No, of course not, Mr. Doane¡± said the voice that Nat immediately recognized as belonging to the former ¡°Mr. Brown¡±, now Thompson. Doane was a familiar name to him, but he could not immediately place it.

    ¡°Good. Our first strike had its intended effect or near enough as makes no difference. Some of the delegates are frightened, though not all. But more importantly they have had to stop their work. Every delay works in our favor. You have the notes on Mr. King¡¯s routine, Jack?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Right here, sir,¡± came a much younger voice. Nat thought he saw some papers change hands. One of the men struck a match, briefly casting a dim light on what were now confirmed to be papers. The one he concluded was ¡°Doane¡± was examining them closely.

    ¡°Then nothing has changed. We¡¯ll proceed with the original plan on the first Monday after the convention reconvenes. You will not hear from me again unless the plan changes, but I do not anticipate that it will. You have your assignments so see to them.¡±

    One by one, the men left and Nat decided that this Mr. Doane must be their leader. He tried to follow him, but this man was much more careful than Thompson had been back in Philadelphia. Apparently aware of the fact that he might be followed he took many turns, stopped in place, and varied his speed frequently. Nat did his best to keep up without being detected, but he eventually rounded a dark corner to find that the man had disappeared. Whoever this Doane was--if that was even his name at all--was a man to be reckoned with. Nevertheless, Nat had information that he did not have before, information that might prove vital in uncovering whatever plot it was that he and Camden had happened upon. He found his way back to a more familiar street and made straight for the ferry; he wanted to be on the first one across the river in the morning.

    Camden woke first and nervously waited for Monroe to do the same. Mercifully, the wait was not very long. As soon as Monroe had visited the privy and returned to the room to wash his face in the basin, Camden spoke up.

    ¡°I took the liberty of ordering breakfast to be brought to our room. I hope you will not disapprove.¡±

    ¡°No, I suppose not. We need be in no hurry today.¡±

    ¡°I must admit, however, that I did so in order that we may receive a guest.¡±

    ¡°Oh. Well, who is that? I assume it must be urgent.¡±

    ¡°Yes, quite urgent indeed, sir. I would not have taken the initiative in this if I did not believe it to be a very important issue that requires your immediate attention.¡±

    ¡°Very well.¡±

    A knock came at the door and it happened to be breakfast, rather than their visitor. The smell of hot coffee, eggs, and bacon wafted into the room.

    ¡°Please, come in and set the tray down on the table.¡±

    Monroe thanked the girl who had brought the tray and gave her a small gratuity. She attempted a curtsy and then left them alone again. Before either of them could start on the food, however, another knock came at the door. Camden answered the door this time and it was their guest.

    ¡°Mr. Monroe, may I present Mr. Nathaniel Aldridge, formerly of the Third Virginia Regiment.¡±

    At first, Camden thought that Monroe did not quite know how to react. He then realized, as the look of shock turned to something different, that Monroe was struck with pity.

    ¡°Aldridge,¡± Monroe said, as if he were attempting to call up memories from deepest recesses of his mind. ¡°Yes, come in, sir. Please come in and join us.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Nat managed. Camden moved to his bed so that the two older men could sit together at the table.

    ¡°I do remember you, Mr. Aldridge. Rather I should say--although it is to my embarrassment--that I remember you from your burns; I had quite forgotten your name. I hope you will forgive me.¡±

    ¡°Of course, sir. I was one of many men under your command and you can hardly be expected to remember them all by name.¡±

    ¡°It is good to see that you seem to be in good health now. I knew that your duties had kept you in Philadelphia, but I suppose I had always assumed that you would eventually return to Virginia.¡±

    ¡°Yes, well, sir, I suppose I thought the same thing for quite some time. Circumstances dictated otherwise. I hope you will pardon the change of subject, but I needed to see you not just to reminisce.¡±

    ¡°I see,¡± said Monroe, who snapped out of his nostalgia. ¡°How can I help you then?¡±

    ¡°I think Mr. Monroe, that it is rather I--and Mr. Page here too--who can help you. Mr. Pinckney¡¯s murder disrupted the convention in more ways than one. It¡¯s no longer a secret that one of his assailants was found with the pamphlet by Mr. Henry. You know better than either of us what effect that might have on the political disagreement now being debated. And how it might affect your personally.¡±

    ¡°The divide between nationalists such as Mr. Pinckney and others such as Mr. Henry--and myself, yes--was already well-known. I am sure we have weathered the worst of it and may return to finding some common ground upon which to build an improved government.¡±

    ¡°What if the worst were not yet over, sir?¡±

    Nat described what he and Camden had discovered about the plot to attack Mr. King and who appeared to be heading up the conspiracy. Monroe asked a few questions, but more or less sat in silence.

    ¡°Doane, you say?¡± he asked after a minute. ¡°It can be no other than Benjamin Doane. He was fiercely loyal to the Penn family and their allies before the war. His place as a man of power and influence was ruined by independence. But I should think he would much prefer the position of Mr. Pinckney to mine.¡±

    Camden hesitated to interject, but did so anyway. ¡°Perhaps he believes yours and Mr. Pinckney¡¯s are not the only options.¡±

    Nat, who had been facing Monroe, turned in his seat. ¡°And what would those be?¡±

    ¡°Well,¡± Camden began tentatively, ¡°if it¡¯s true that he lost his place near the seat of power after independence, perhaps he would prefer that the states not remain united in the first place. Restoring the status quo might be impossible, but desperate men are not liable to be persuaded by logic and reason.¡±

    Nat and Monroe did not respond immediately, but Camden could tell that they were thinking. Whether his idea struck them as insightful or foolish he was not sure. Monroe broke the silence. ¡°You may be right. I do not know, but whatever their motivation, we must act quickly.¡±

    ¡°Everything is in order, Mr. King¡± Camden all but whispered. ¡°All you need do is take the usual route back to your boarding house and we will take care of the rest.¡± King still looked very unsettled, but managed to put on a resolute face and gave both Camden and Monroe a nod before turning to leave.

    All along the route to his lodgings there were likely to be witnesses, with the exception of one alley that Mr. King had taken to using as a shortcut. There could be no other place to attack him without the conspirators easily being discovered and caught. It was very near there that Nat and several men he had hired would be ready. The confines of the alley made for a good ambush, but that was a blade that could cut both ways. Mr. King¡¯s boarding house lay in the same direction as Monroe¡¯s, which allowed Camden to follow in the same direction, albeit only several minutes later. The only way anyone could conceive to catch the attackers would be to catch them in the act.

    After the appointed number of minutes had passed, Camden and Monroe set out at a brisk pace along the same route they knew Mr. King was following. As they approached the alley, Camden half expected to hear the same sort of shouting that had accompanied the attack on Mr. Pinckney, but it was only after rounding the last corner and the scene came into full view that he heard the last grunts and jostling of what seemed to be barely a minor scuffle.

    Nat¡¯s men had sealed off the alley from both ends and fallen upon the would-be attackers just as they had made their attempt. Mr. King sat leaning up against the wall of one of the houses that backed up to the alley, his coat and shirt slightly out of place, but otherwise appearing to be none the worse for wear. Camden and Monroe rushed to him.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

    ¡°Are you unharmed, Mr. King?¡± Monroe inquired.

    ¡°Yes, yes. I¡¯m fine. One of them was able to shove me to the ground, but your men acted quickly.¡±

    Camden offered a hand, helped Mr. King to his feet, and assisted him in dusting off his clothes. Nat and his hired hands were busy corralling the half dozen attackers.

    ¡°Is this all of them?¡± Monroe asked.

    Nat paused for a moment to catch his breath. ¡°Yes sir, it is. They came from both directions, but so did we. Fortunately, there were two of us for every one of them. Some of them put up a fight, but they¡¯re all here.¡±

    ¡°Good. Very good.¡± Monroe surveyed the motley crew that Benjamin Doane and his co-conspirators had hired, but said that he recognized none of them. ¡°That can hardly be surprising, however,¡± he continued. ¡°A man like Doane would not make the mistake of sending anyone important to carry out a task like this.¡±

    Monroe then approached the group of men, all of whom were now seated, near the mouth of the alley. ¡°I already know who sent you here, but what were you sent here to do?¡± No one seemed to be inclined to answer. ¡°Understand that each of you already stands to be punished for assaulting this man. Do the right thing and tell us what you were sent to do.¡±

    One man at the end, the youngest by the look of him, scanned the other men before venturing to speak.

    ¡°Sir,¡± he began. The man next to him, gave him a swift elbow to the ribs and said ¡°Shut it, Tom!¡± Nat repaid the man¡¯s elbow with a kick to the stomach and he doubled over, gasping for air. Camden then pulled the young man to his feet and away from the rest of the group.

    ¡°Now, Tom,¡± Monroe began, once they were out of hearing distance of the other men. ¡°You must tell me what you know. You may have no idea what you have gotten yourself into.¡±

    Tom looked down at his feet. ¡°I . . . well, I was meant to be arrested, sir. I suppose I have been after all. But we were told that this man was to be left alive.¡±

    ¡°You were told to let yourself be arrested?¡± Camden asked, his incredulity getting the better of him.

    ¡°Yes. I was given a story to tell after my arrest about how I had been hired by a man from Virginia who wanted Mr. King and others like him out of the way. I was to say that I was convinced that he was right that they should not be allowed to succeed in writing a new constitution.¡±

    ¡°I see. Will you tell that story again when the time comes? You would be doing the honest thing.¡±

    Tom hung his head, but managed a slight nod.

    A group of men from the watch had since arrived and Nat and the others got the attackers to their feet for the long walk to the jail. Perhaps, Camden thought, one of them might provide information that would finally bring the entire plot to the light of day.

    On the way back from a brief visit at Mr. Johnson¡¯s office, Camden decided to stop and eat lunch at a small shop near Independence Hall. He bought a small loaf of bread and some cheese and ate as he walked. Before he reached their boarding house, however, he was overtaken by Nat and Mr. Monroe.

    ¡°Come with us,¡± Nat said. ¡°We have important news.¡±

    ¡°What is it?¡± Camden asked. ¡°Does it concern--¡±

    ¡°Not here,¡± Monroe said. ¡°You probably know what it concerns, but it is  best that the information not be broadcast indiscriminately just yet.¡±

    They reached the boarding house, climbed the stairs to the shared room, and shut the door.

    ¡°It concerns the plot to attack Mr. Rufus King,¡± Nat began. Camden gave a smile as if to say ¡°I knew it.¡± Nat rolled his eyes and continued. ¡°Benjamin Doane was arrested at his home in New York and will likely stand trial for a number of crimes.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± said Camden. ¡°The families of Dr. McClurg and Mr. Pinckney deserve justice, as does Mr. King.¡±

    ¡°Of course they do, but that¡¯s almost a triviality at this point.¡±

    Camden gave Nat a puzzled look. Nat glanced over to Monroe who picked up where Nat had left off.

    ¡°What is remarkable is not that Doane¡¯s conspiracy was uncovered, but where it led. We already were fairly confident that he had been working with former English spies. However, a search of his papers revealed that he has contacts in England right now. Not merely business contacts, but at least one man who encouraged this conspiracy and provided financial and other support for it.¡±

    ¡°How can that--¡± Camden began. ¡°Who is it?¡±

    ¡°His identity remains a secret for now. Doane refuses to name him at any cost. But at least for the immediate future, we must proceed under the assumption that the effort to disrupt the convention has not been merely the work of one Loyalist American lashing out in retaliation for the losses he has suffered. This is something far more pernicious, I fear.¡±

    The three sat not only silently but also motionless for what seemed an eternity.

    ¡°What are we to do now, Mr. Monroe?¡± Camden finally ventured.

    As Nat looked over at Monroe, Camden thought he could see Monroe ever so slightly harden his jaw before speaking.

    ¡°We press on. Perhaps this English villain thinks that the American people can be conquered if sufficiently divided, that preventing us from addressing the perceived deficiencies in our constitution will make us vulnerable, that sowing discord and creating strife will force us down into the muck from which we will have no choice but to cry out for a savior. Thus, we must press on and finish the work we were sent here to do. To fail in that task will certainly be to give our enemies one of the things they must have wanted all along.¡±

    Camden knew that Monroe did not regard himself as an eloquent speaker. This, however, Camden thought was the sort of speech that could rouse men to action. His resolve to help Mr. Monroe had never wavered, but he was sure that it was now stronger than ever.

    ¡°That was a fine speech, Mr. Monroe,¡± said Nat. ¡°But if you¡¯ll forgive my saying so, you won¡¯t hear the next one over my stomach unless we go and get some food.¡± Monroe found that remark quite humorous--quite a bit more humorous than Camden thought it really was--and they all shared a laugh.

    This would be his last session taking down Mr. Monroe¡¯s notes and Camden felt a certain disappointment. These evening sessions had been his own window into the intellect of another man, one who shared his longing for a system of government that would faithfully preserve what the previous generation had fought and died for. They sat in their usual places--Camden at the desk and Mr. Monroe in the room¡¯s remaining chair.

    ¡°This day, the convention adjourned upon the unanimous vote of the states in attendance,¡± Monroe began. ¡°Before that vote was taken, Mr. Madison rose to give a final speech. He expressed his disappointment that the convention was unable to come to an agreement that would have yielded a new charter. The proposed amendments to the Articles of Confederation, he believed, would prove insufficient to bind the states together as they must be bound if the difficulties facing the general welfare are to be remedied. He agreed, however, that remaining assembled in convention in Philadelphia much longer would be of no further benefit and supported the motion to adjourn. Whereupon a vote was taken and the motion to adjourn was adopted without a single dissenting vote.¡±

    Monroe paused here and Camden took the opportunity to ask ¡°What do you think Mr. Madison will do now? He and the rest of those who wanted a new constitution?¡±

    ¡°Mr. Madison is surely one of the most brilliant men to have attended this convention. Not only that, but he was one of the men without whom the convention would never have come to fruition in the first place. I have no doubt that he is entirely sincere in his belief that a new constitution was needed and that it must have incorporated his ideas. In the future, I am certain that the same issues we debated over these past months will arise again and that Mr. Madison and others will be at the forefront of those debates.¡±

    ¡°But do you suppose he will lend his support to the proposed amendments? It would seem that he still has some potential to influence Virginia and the Congress.¡±

    ¡°I suppose he will support amendments that he calculates will move the general government in his preferred direction and will oppose those that do not. Half a loaf of bread will seem better than no loaf at all to a hungry man.¡±

    Camden pulled out the book in which he had been keeping all of these notes. He set it to the side for the moment in order to allow the ink on this newest page to dry. Looking at the volume, he was almost surprised at how much Mr. Monroe had remembered and how much he himself had written down. ¡°Do you suppose it will work?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Will what work?¡± Monroe countered.

    ¡°All of this.¡± Camden gestured toward the collection of notes. ¡°Will all the work that we put in prove successful?¡±

    ¡°That depends on one¡¯s definition of ¡®work¡¯, would you not agree?¡±

    Camden shrugged his shoulders, but then nodded in tentative agreement.

    ¡°From the point of view of Mr. Madison or Mr. King or Mr. Hamilton, they may be predisposed to tell you that the work of the convention will all go to waste, that the states will degenerate into disorder for lack of a new constitution, one with a more powerful national government. If such radical change was unnecessary, however, and all that was really needed was a small change here and there, then perhaps the convention will eventually prove to have ¡®worked¡¯ as well as could be hoped.¡±

    ¡°I see what you mean. In that respect, then I suppose you have done all that you reasonably could while here in Philadelphia. All that and more, in truth.¡±

    ¡°I thank you for saying so, Mr. Page. I have arranged for us to take the first coach headed south tomorrow morning. Neither of us sleeps particularly well while on the road, so I suggest we be off to bed early tonight. We have a long journey ahead of us.¡±

    Camden was sure that Mr. Monroe was right about the journey that lay ahead. But the journey from Philadelphia back to Richmond was only part of that journey. The effort to insure that the blessings of independence were not blown away with the winds of change was also a sort of journey, much of which they had yet to face. His thoughts also inevitably drifted to Georgiana and how a long and difficult road lay between him and the prospect of not merely another face to face meeting, but a courtship, and perhaps more. In a sense, it all began tomorrow. The coach would carry them back toward Richmond, the other delegates would travel back to their respective homes, and Camden would be, he hoped, that much closer to happiness with Georgiana at his side.

    The inn just outside Baltimore, where they had stopped the night before was, Camden thought, by far the finest he had lodged in for the entirety of their trip. The food served at dinner was simple, but delicious and satisfying. The bed was warm and comfortable and not the only one in their room, saving him and Monroe from having to share a bed for the night as they had had to do on their first trip. He awoke, well-rested, to the warm smell of a hearty breakfast.

    After dressing, he joined Mr. Monroe--who had been awake for some time, apparently--at a small table in the dining area. He sipped some coffee from a small cup as Mr. Monroe perused a newspaper from Baltimore, dated only two days before. There was not likely to be any news about the convention¡¯s end, but Camden was not altogether convinced, in any event, that he would care to read a newspaper account of what he had experienced more directly. He contented himself to enjoy his coffee while he waited for breakfast to be served.

    Setting down the paper, Mr. Monroe broke the silence. ¡°Mr. Page, I have wanted to ask you something for some time now. Given the time that we have spent together since leaving Richmond, I hope you will not think it too intrusive.¡±

    ¡°I doubt that it could be, Mr. Monroe. I know you at least as well as I know Mr. Randolph and there is no subject on which I can conceive of withholding information from him. Please ask what you will.¡±

    Monroe appeared to Camden to still be uncomfortable to a small degree.

    ¡°Well, I know that Mr. Randolph continued to send you books from his library over the course of our time here. That is no secret, of course. Some of those books have been directly related to your apprenticeship and others have been for pleasure reading. That is no secret either. Finally, it is perhaps no secret that Mr. Randolph encloses letters in some of those books. What remains unknown to me is from whom those letters have been sent. You see now why I said that I hoped my inquiry would not be too intrusive.¡±

    Monroe paused here to take a sip of his own drink and Camden did the same.

    ¡°You have proven yourself to be a dedicated apprentice, but I cannot help concluding that you pore over those particular letters in a way that no apprentice has ever pored over a letter from his legal mentor. May I prevail upon you to tell me from what young woman you have been receiving such regular correspondence?¡±

    Camden felt as if he might require assistance in lifting his jaw from the table, so great was his astonishment.

    ¡°You needn¡¯t be quite that shocked,¡± Monroe gently chided, a grin beginning to stretch the corners of his mouth and eyes. ¡°I have been young and in love too. Especially to those who are in the midst of such a thing, the signs do not at all seem obvious. For a disinterested observer such as myself, however, it was not terribly difficult to deduce what was happening.¡±

    Camden¡¯s face felt warm, although now he was certain that was from his face flushing and not from his coffee. ¡°You are right,¡± Camden finally managed to say. ¡°Was I truly quite as obvious as all that?¡±

    ¡°I am afraid so, but it is surely nothing that you could have helped even if you had been aware of it. There is no need for embarrassment on that account.¡±

    Before Monroe¡¯s reassurance could take its full effect, however, their attention was drawn away by a hurried knocking at the entryway, after which a man in riding clothes emerged and asked whether he could buy some breakfast quickly. The man sat down at a table near them and began devouring the food on his plate as soon as it arrived. Camden wondered whether the man was tasting anything at all. About that same time, the man looked their way and spoke, spitting crumbs from a biscuit in their general direction.

    ¡°You¡¯re Mr. James Monroe, are you not, sir?¡±

    Given how many delegates to the convention had found themselves in dangerous situations, Camden would have understood if Monroe had been reluctant to confirm his identity. Still, if the man had meant to do him harm, now would surely not be the time or place.

    ¡°I am,¡± Monroe answered. ¡°And you are?¡±

    ¡°Samuel Walsham. I work for the Hudson River Coach and Ferry Company, but I¡¯ve been dispatched to carry a message to Baltimore and then on to Richmond. That is why I must eat quickly and ride on as quickly as possible. It concerns you, somewhat, sir, though not directly.¡±

    ¡°Really? What news are you carrying?¡±

    ¡°Benjamin Doane has escaped from jail, sir. It was yesterday morning that the jailer found his cell empty, almost as if he had never been there in the first place.¡±

    Walsham stuffed the last of his breakfast in his mouth while Camden tried to think of anything that he could ask the man. He could think of nothing. Monroe, who seemed calm in the face of such stunning news, asked ¡°There was no indication where he might have fled to?¡±

    ¡°None as of yet, no,¡± Walsham said after forcing down the last swallow of his coffee.

    ¡°Troubling,¡± was all Monroe said in response.

    ¡°I must be on my way, then,¡± Walsham said as he rose, leaving some coin on the table to pay for his food. ¡°I wish you gentleman a safe and pleasant journey back to Virginia.¡±

    With that, the man was gone almost as quickly as he had arrived. ¡°How can that be?¡± Camden asked after several minutes had passed. ¡°If Doane has escaped, then surely the threat he represents will continue to haunt us. What shall we do?¡±

    Monroe drained the last of his drink and then calmly set down his cup. ¡°We press on.¡±

 Chapter 9

    Peering across the hall to where his apprentice was supposed to be studying, Mr. Randolph perceived that the young man was quite distracted on that particular evening. He would look down at his books, but seemed almost to be staring right through them into the floor. Mr. Randolph rose from his chair and strode quietly to the sitting room.

    Camden looked up as he entered, seemingly caught off guard and appearing to be unsure whether he would be reprimanded for not attending to his work.

    ¡°You¡¯re distracted,¡± Mr. Randolph began, ¡°but I must know why. It does little good to identify a problem without also identifying how to remedy it.¡±

    ¡°I apologize, Mr. Randolph. I am distracted, yes, but I cannot identify a single source of that distraction. So much happened in Philadelphia, both with the convention and with everything else. So much is uncertain there and then . . .¡± The young apprentice trailed off and gazed back down at his book.

    ¡°And then?¡± Mr. Randolph offered. He could see that Camden was hesitant and so supplied the words for him. ¡°And then there is your growing love for my niece. That is what you were thinking, am I not correct?¡±

    Camden nodded but did not immediately look up.

    ¡°It certainly is nothing to be ashamed of, but I understand why you are hesitant to discuss it. Much like the future of our country, the future of your life and hers remains uncertain. You have hopes, of course, but do not know whether they will ever be fulfilled.¡±

    ¡°Mr. Monroe seemed to think it obvious that I was corresponding with a lady, though I never told him so. Was it equally apparent to you that I have come to love Georgiana?¡±

    ¡°My boy, I should have been surprised if you had not come to find that you love her. Aside from that, however, while you have been away she has visited me on more than a few occasions. It did not take all of my skills of reasoning to work out what had grown up between the two of you. I have no doubt that the affection you feel for her does not exceed the affection she gives in return.¡±

    ¡°What distracts me the most, I suppose, is that there seems to be nothing that can be done. Senator Burwell has already made up his mind about me. He stated his rejection in such certain terms that I cannot imagine how his opinion could be reversed.¡±

    Mr. Randolph put his hand on Camden¡¯s shoulder for a moment. The young man may have acted rashly before, but he was intelligent enough not to make the same mistake twice. Besides that, he must certainly now be more open than ever to receiving wisdom from his elders.

    ¡°I do not think that all is lost, but having been a young man once myself I can understand how you could come to that conclusion. I will speak to my brother in law on your behalf. He can be adamant, yes, but I know him well enough to discern how best to persuade him. Unless you would prefer that I not take that risk?¡±

    ¡°I . . . Mr. Randolph, I cannot hope to repay such a kindness as this. I have no right at all to expect such a favor from one to whom I am already so greatly indebted. If I should--¡±

    ¡°You need say no more. Georgiana¡¯s happiness and yours will be all the thanks I need.¡±

    Mr. Randolph peered over at the book open on the desk to see that Camden had been in the thick of a long discourse on the law of descent and entails, a dry subject even for one undistracted by other matters.

    ¡°Perhaps you should put your reading aside for the evening and start afresh tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, sir, but I really should--¡±

    ¡°In that case,¡± he said, reaching over and shutting the book, ¡°I insist. Now get upstairs. Rest. Rest your mind and your body.¡±

    Camden obeyed this time. As he dragged himself out of the sitting room and up the stairs, Mr. Randolph was sure that he could see a weight being lifted from his shoulders. Perhaps the young man would very soon have more to worry about, but for now at least he could find some rest.

    ¡°Uncle Joseph, how good of you to come. I can only assume you are here to see Father?¡±

    ¡°Yes, in fact I am.¡±

    ¡°I trust all goes well with the ratification process?¡±

    ¡°Fine, yes. I need to speak with your father about another matter, however.¡±

    ¡°Oh. Well, we expect him home shortly. Andrew is gone for the rest of the day, but if there is anything you need I will be at your service. May I take your hat?¡±

    ¡°My visit actually concerns you, Georgiana.¡±

    She was taken aback for an instant, but it immediately became clear to her what he meant.

    ¡°And Mr. Page.¡±

    ¡°I see. May I try to guess the subject of your conversation?¡±

    ¡°Certainly.¡±

    ¡°I posit that you have come to appeal to my father on behalf of Mr. Page in order that the prohibition on his being permitted to call on me be lifted.¡±

    ¡°You are, as usual, very perceptive,¡± he said, with a familiar twinkle in his eye.

    ¡°Since that is why you have come, I must make a confession.¡± She girded herself for what she must say next. ¡°The letters you and Mr. Page received that forbid him to come to our home were not sent by my father. I sent them.¡±

    She paused briefly, hoping to read something in her uncle¡¯s expression, but his face gave not the slightest hint at his thoughts.

    ¡°When Mr. Page delivered his letter months ago,¡± she continued, ¡°I opened and read it. He couldn¡¯t have known how he had breached social convention in being so bold so soon. The prospect of not being able to speak with him again caused me to act rashly and that is why I misled both of you. At the time it seemed the only thing to do.¡±

    She dreaded her uncle¡¯s response. He had always played the part of the indulgent uncle in her youth, but she was unsure how he would take this. He stood there for a moment with his arms crossed before he began to speak.

    ¡°You thought you would escape notice, did you?¡±

    ¡°I realize now that it was foolish to try to hide it from father, but--¡±

    ¡°No. What I mean is did you really think that it would escape my notice?¡±

    Georgiana raised an eyebrow; of all the possible responses she could think of, this had not been one of them.

    ¡°Georgiana, you needn¡¯t look surprised. You are indeed very clever, but I knew from the very beginning that the letters were yours. Mr. Page certainly would not have recognized your handwriting, but it was immediately obvious to me.¡±

    Georgiana blushed. She could not believe she had made such an embarrassingly simple error.

    ¡°I also understood why you must have thought you had to take the course you did. If I had thought it was truly your father who sent the letters, I never would have agreed to facilitate any sort of correspondence between the two of you. I spoil you--about that there can be no doubt and it is my prerogative as an uncle--but I would never counsel you to defy your parents.¡±

    Georgiana hardly dared breathe until she heard her uncle¡¯s next word.

    ¡°Nevertheless,¡± he began, allowing Georgiana to exhale in relief, ¡°I intend to appeal to your father on Mr. Page¡¯s behalf today. I believe I can make your father see that the two of you might some day make an excellent match. If he consents, then I trust your judgment to know when it will be best to tell him of your little scheme.¡±

    A wave of joy swept over Georgiana so fully that the last words had hardly left her uncle¡¯s mouth before she had embraced him. ¡°He will see, uncle! I know he will. Thank you!¡± He seemed to her to be taken somewhat by surprise; she had never been one to have such demonstrative bursts of emotion and so had surprised herself a little as well.

    From the other room, Georgiana heard the familiar sound of her father arriving. He called for Andrew.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    ¡°Oh, he must have forgotten that he gave Andrew the rest of the day off,¡± Georgiana whispered. ¡°Will you--¡±

    ¡°Of course, my dear. I¡¯ll greet him now. If you felt this much emotion with me, you might very well faint away to see your father now.¡± He winked and left to greet his brother in law.

    Georgiana went upstairs, perfectly content to bask in the bliss of the moment until she was called down for dinner.

    The General Assembly seemed to be busy on every previous occasion that Camden had been afforded the opportunity to visit, but today was by far the busiest he had ever seen it. Mr. Randolph also seemed to be impressed with the sheer amount of activity and the press of bodies that seemed to line every hallway and room. The hectic atmosphere, however, was not the only thing that made this visit to the makeshift capitol significant.

    Today, Camden was there not merely as an observer, but also as an advocate. The members of the General Assembly would soon be voting on how to instruct the members of the Confederation Congress regarding amendments to the Articles. Over the course of the past weeks, Mr. Randolph had identified those members who had more or less decided where they stood already. Few who found themselves committed supporters of Mr. Madison¡¯s nationalism were likely to be convinced. Yet there were those who vacillated or who expressed no firm opinion one way or the other that might still be convinced. It was those members that he and Mr. Randolph were there to see.

    The first on their list was a member of the House of Delegates from Amherst County, Carter Taliaferro. He had agreed to meet with Mr. Randolph that morning, but had apparently already had similar meetings with Mr. Madison and Governor Randolph. The stakes were clear to everyone.

    They arrived at the appointed time and place--a small book shop near the New Academy, the site where the House of Delegates had been meeting in recent days. Mr. Taliaferro arrived only a few minutes later and greeted Mr. Randolph.

    ¡°Mr. Taliaferro, may I introduce my apprentice, Mr. Camden Page.¡±

    ¡°Ah, yes, Mr. Page,¡± Taliaferro exclaimed. ¡°Your reputation precedes you. I hope you will not find the same set of skills necessary in Richmond as you did in Philadelphia,¡± he said, before slapping Camden on the meat of his upper arm. Camden saw his eyes widen momentarily, as if he had not expected an apprentice to a lawyer to be quite so muscular.

    ¡°I can tell you gentlemen that after meeting with Mr. Madison and the governor, the case for their amendments is compelling.¡±

    ¡°The governor and Mr. Madison would not be in positions of influence, ¡°said Mr. Randolph, ¡°if they had not the powers of persuasion. However, I think you will find that I, too, can be persuasive.¡±

    ¡°What means of persuasion have you, then?¡±

    ¡°To begin with, we would ask you what you believe it was that Americans fought for in 1776?¡±

    A confused look came across Taliaferro¡¯s face. He then bit his lower lip for a moment before speaking. ¡°You mean you are to persuade me with the force of your arguments?¡± He paused, as if to gauge the reaction to his question. ¡°I had hoped that you gentlemen were prepared with some means of persuasion that would prove more . . . lucrative.¡±

    Camden turned to look at Mr. Randolph, whose face had darkened in a way that he had never seen it before. ¡°You will be sure to find us a disappointment in that regard, Mr. Taliaferro,¡± he forced out through clenched teeth. ¡°Good day to you, sir.¡±

    The last word was pregnant with meaning, Camden thought. Mr. Randolph brushed past Taliaferro to leave and he followed closely, noting the look on Taliaferro¡¯s face that was some mixture of astonishment and rage. They walked in the direction of Mr. Randolph¡¯s house for several minutes, before Mr. Randolph finally stopped and broke the silence between them.

    ¡°Men like Taliaferro are . . . well, a certain amount of what you need to know about them is obvious, I suppose. His attitude toward government will be the death of our republic. And that not merely because he will go along with the tendency toward consolidating power in a national government. No matter the level of government, there will always be those who will abuse it for their own aggrandizement.¡±

    ¡°Do you suppose there are more like him?¡±

    ¡°Some, yes. There always have been and always will be. The difficulty is in uncovering who they are before they have the chance to do real harm. With him I have no doubt that it is too late.¡±

    Here, Mr. Randolph drew in a deep breath and let out one of his characteristic sighs.

    ¡°Men like him make it difficult to want to do what must be done. Difficult, but not so difficult that I am willing to let them win without a fight. Come.¡±

    With that, Mr. Randolph turned on his heel and headed back in the direction they had come. ¡°Take out that list of Delegates, please, Mr. Page. There is much work to be done. I¡¯ll be hanged if a rascal like Carter Taliaferro will succeed in accomplishing what a murderous English conspiracy could not.¡±

    Yet another new look appeared on Mr. Randolph¡¯s face. Camden had seen his mentor deep in thought before and this look was something like that one. But it was, at the same time, something more. Whatever was going through Mr. Randolph¡¯s mind at the moment, Camden was sure that he would not want to be anyone who stood in his path.

    They spent the rest of the morning speaking to a handful of delegates who practiced law. They would be, Mr. Randolph thought, the most likely to support the amendment to establish a national supreme court of limited jurisdiction.

    ¡°You see, Mr. Copeland,¡± he told one apprehensive delegate, ¡°the court will exist for no other purpose than to resolve controversies between two or more states and disputes between a state and citizens of another state. The court can exercise no jurisdiction in any other cases and has no power of its own, owing the appointment of its judges to the states as assembled in congress. It is not a consolidation of power, but rather an agreement among the states about the best means for arbitrating disputes amongst themselves.¡±

    ¡°I see your point, Mr. Randolph,¡± Mr. Copeland responded. ¡°I cannot say that you are wrong, but others also make compelling arguments. I simply need more time to reflect before I come to a decision.¡±

    ¡°Indeed. But the time for action is very close at hand, as I suppose I need not tell you. Will you inform me as soon as possible after you have settled it in your mind?¡±

    The man nodded politely before excusing himself.

    ¡°He seemed convinced, Mr. Randolph,¡± Camden offered. ¡°But I think he just doesn¡¯t want to seem as if he has not given the matter sufficient deliberation.¡±

    ¡°I tend to agree. If we can count on Mr. Copeland¡¯s vote, the amendments may succeed.¡± Mr. Randolph mopped at his forehead with his handkerchief. ¡°Who is next on our list?¡±

    Camden pulled the list from his vest pocket. ¡°He was the last.¡±

    ¡°Very well then. All we can do now is wait. And hope.¡±

    ¡°Who is it?¡± he asked tentatively, realizing that the mental haze to which he ordinarily awoke was absent. His efforts on behalf of Monroe and Camden Page seemed to have resulted in considerably less late-night imbibing than before.

    ¡°My name is Peter Tobin. Have I come to the wrong place? I was told I could speak with a Mr. Nathaniel Aldridge here.¡±

    Nat swung his feet out onto the floor and said ¡°Just a moment,¡± as he pulled on his socks. Shuffling over to the door, he opened it just a crack. Standing in the hallway, his face half-illumined from the early morning sun, was a finely-dressed man who appeared vaguely familiar to Nat.

    ¡°What did you say your name was?¡±

    ¡°Peter Tobin, sir. If you are, in fact, Nathaniel Aldridge, then I may have a business proposition for you.¡±

    Nat was never one to turn away a potential client without giving him a fair hearing, especially a client whose wealth and status was so immediately apparent. He noticed now that the man also carried a well-constructed walking cane with what appeared to be a polished, silver handle.

    ¡°Come in then, please. I am Nathaniel Aldridge.¡± Nat knew the man must have known already that he was the man he was looking for; the burns on his face served as a unique if somewhat grotesque trademark.

    ¡°Before we proceed I must ask who sent you here. My residence is not common knowledge, Mr. Tobin.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I had not thought of that. It was James Monroe.¡± Mr. Tobin fidgeted with his hat and cane, seeming to be unsure whether he should set them down or hold them. That the man was somewhat ill at ease in this meager establishment was clear to Nat immediately.

    ¡°If you come on Mr. Monroe¡¯s advice, then you are very welcome. Please, have a seat, and tell me about this business proposition of yours.¡±

    Mr. Tobin lowered himself gently into the room¡¯s only chair, setting his hat in his lap and folding his hands on top of his cane, the gleaming tip of which he planted directly between his feet. It was, Nat thought, a striking pose for such a humble abode as his.

    ¡°Mr. Aldridge, your work in uncovering the Doane conspiracy has not gone unnoticed. Perhaps your name has been kept out of the papers to a large degree, but a word shared in confidence is often far more important than a full page in print. Depending on whose word it is, of course.¡±

    Nat shifted forward to the edge of the bed and nodded.

    ¡°Perhaps in the course of your investigation into the Doane matter you came to be aware that Benjamin Doane and I had a fair amount of business dealings together. I assure you, however, that I am a patriot through and through; the last thing I want is for America to be plunged into the sort of chaos that might invite an attack from a foreign power, especially one from the British.¡±

    ¡°I take you at your word, sir,¡± Nat offered, seeing that the man was clearly uncomfortable at his former association with the now-infamous criminal Doane. ¡°Mr. Monroe certainly would not have sent you to me if what you say is untrue.¡±

    ¡°Then my proposal to you, Mr. Aldridge, is this: work for me, help me disentangle myself from Benjamin Doane and his abettors.¡± Mr. Tobin continued just as Nat was opening his mouth to speak. ¡°Perhaps you are going to protest that you are merely an inconsequential thief-taker who is not qualified to the task. I refuse to believe it. Your skills should be put to use for something larger than running down drunken gamblers for less than a day¡¯s wages.¡±

    Nat¡¯s mind drifted to the handful of empty liquor bottles remaining in the corner of his room. ¡°I¡¯m not sure I¡¯m made out for much more than what I already am, Mr. Tobin. The truth is that those gamblers and I have a lot in common.¡±

    ¡°I see,¡± said Mr. Tobin, a slight furrow appearing on his brow. ¡°Perhaps you are right. But perhaps that is a risk I am willing to take.¡±

    Nat pondered this. The man seated across from him knew almost nothing about him save what had been passed on from others, others that he clearly trusted. The thought of a better life and work with more significance appealed to him, but he also knew that old habits, having taken up residence, are not easily dispatched. A drunk who lurked in the shadows was one thing, but to have his vices reappear in full view of the general public was another thing entirely.

    ¡°Well, Mr. Tobin,¡± he started. The other man raised his hand.

    ¡°You must know, however, Mr. Aldridge, that your employment would not be without its conditions. In fact, I have only one condition on which I will accept no negotiation.¡±

    Here, Mr. Tobin gestured to the bottles in the corner. ¡°You must give up your drunkenness. Whether you decide to abstain entirely is of no consequence to me, but if you are ever indisposed such that I cannot immediately call upon your services, the relationship will be terminated immediately and irrevocably. I hope that is sufficiently clear.¡±

    ¡°Perfectly clear, Mr. Tobin.¡±

    ¡°Very well then. Do we have an agreement, Mr. Aldridge?¡±

    Nat paused for only a moment, then stood, and taking a deep breath, extended his hand. Whether this Mr. Tobin could transform him into a member of respectable society remained to be seen, but Nat was, to his own surprise, willing to take that chance.

 Chapter 10

    Camden was slipping out of his boots, muddied by the late autumn rain, when Mr. Randolph came down the stairs.

    ¡°Please step into my office when you finish there.¡±

    Camden had finished all of his assignments for the day and so was unsure what Mr. Randolph could want to discuss. In addition, with the General Assembly already having met and approved the amendments that were to be proposed to Congress at its next session, political matters seemed to be in a state of lull. He entered to find Mr. Randolph holding a small piece of paper--a card, rather, Camden discovered upon closer inspection.

    ¡°I need not tell you how much effort has been expended by the members of the General Assembly in recent weeks. That the result has been agreement on proposed amendments to be sent to Congress is, if not a miracle, then certainly cause for celebration.¡±

    ¡°Indeed, sir. Tension amongst the members was certainly a thing that could not be ignored. I doubted whether they would find agreement.¡±

    ¡°Quite, quite. The relief is no less real for those who wanted something more from Philadelphia. To that end, Senator Burwell has invited both of us to a celebration at his home on Saturday. Shall I respond that we will both be in attendance?¡±

    ¡°Yes, please do!¡± Camden immediately blurted out. ¡°Although--¡±

    ¡°Although what, Mr. Page?¡±

    ¡°I hesitate to trouble you with it, sir.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s no trouble, Mr. Page. Nor is it a mystery that your hesitation concerns my niece. And there is no need to look puzzled. What else should cause you to hesitate in this instance?¡±

    Camden shrugged his shoulders and sank back into his chair. ¡°Mr. Randolph, I can think of very few things I should want more than to have the opportunity to see Georgiana and to speak with her in person. Conversely, I can think of few things in this life that I should dread more than being told that she and I will never become husband and wife. Yet I cannot know before actually arriving, which of those prospects I face.¡±

    ¡°It is a dilemma, I admit. One that I assure you, despite my age and present state of bachelorhood, I can understand.¡± He steepled his fingers and drew in a deep breath before continuing. ¡°I think you will find, Mr. Page, that there are relatively few things in this life worth having that are not also worth at least some small measure of risk--risk that you might be hurt in the process of pursuing them. Those things most worth pursuing tend to be accompanied by a proportionately greater degree of risk. I cannot predict what my brother in law will do, whether he will see in you what I see and what my niece sees. One thing I do know, however: if you are half the man that I believe you are becoming then you will not let fear of the unknown conquer you.¡±

    ¡°Thank you for saying so, Mr. Randolph. I . . . your confidence in me is not something I will take for granted.¡±

    Entering what Camden assumed must be the home¡¯s largest room, he surveyed the space for a sight of Georgiana. His eyes found hers quickly, but she looked away, turning back to the conversation in which she was engaged with two other young ladies. The picture of her in his mind¡¯s eye seemed utterly dull and lifeless now that he was finally in the same room with her again. Her gown, a deep green that he was sure would compliment her eyes wonderfully, was, he was equally sure, the most magnificent he would see that evening. Her hair was curled and layered on top of her head, accentuating her neck and giving her chin a most graceful appearance. He realized that he was staring and was suddenly thankful that Georgiana had turned away, lest she notice his fixed gaze.

    He wanted nothing more than to walk across the room and speak to her immediately. Camden discovered that that very thought must have been as plain as the nose on his face, because just as he was about to take that first step across the gulf of the room that stood between them, Mr. Randolph took him by the wrist and leaned in to say something.

    ¡°Wait for her and wait for Senator Burwell,¡± he said, barely above a whisper. ¡°Patience is a virtue and know that she is struggling to exercise that virtue every bit as much as you are at this moment.¡±

    Camden took in a deep breath and let it out. Waiting would be difficult. To be so close and still seem so far was practically unbearable, and so he resolved to find something, anything, to occupy his attention. To his relief, Mr. Monroe entered the room just then, and came over to where he and Mr. Randolph were standing.

    ¡°Good evening, Mr. Randolph. Mr. Page.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t look so surprised, Mr. Page,¡± Mr. Randolph said. ¡°Yes, Mr. Monroe and Senator Burwell are not on the best of terms politically, but Senator Burwell knows--and Mr. Monroe is certainly learning--that politics requires keeping both friends and enemies on amicable personal terms. If politics is the art of compromise, then it will never do to alienate anyone, no matter how deep the differences.¡±

    ¡°Quite so, Mr. Randolph,¡± said Monroe. ¡°And who am I to refuse Senator Burwell¡¯s food and excellent wine if they are on offer?¡±

    As if on cue, a servant carrying a bottle of wine approached them and offered the men a glass. Exchanging a knowing look, the three of them utterly failed to suppress a hearty laugh, reassuring the man that it was nothing he had done. They thanked him for the wine and Monroe proposed a toast.

    ¡°To the United States. May they ever stand together as lights of freedom in a world prone to the darkness of tyranny.¡±

    ¡°To the United States,¡± Camden and Mr. Randolph repeated in union.

    ¡°Gentlemen, if you will please excuse me,¡± said Monroe. ¡°Politics is, in fact, why I am here and I intend to make the most of the occasion. We shall speak again soon, I have no doubt. Good luck to you, Mr. Page.¡±

    Camden mulled over what Monroe could have meant by that, but concluded that it could only have referred to his impending meeting with Senator Burwell. Despite not knowing how Monroe could have known anything on that subject, Camden took some small degree of comfort from the knowledge that he had the encouragement of another friend. Across the room, Georgiana was now seated on a couch beside her mother. She glanced briefly in his direction and let slip a momentary smile and Camden felt the corners of his mouth involuntarily curl into a smile as well. The moment was gone as quickly as it came, however, and she went back to her conversation.

    Being unacquainted with most of the other guests, Camden chose to remain with Mr. Randolph. This proved to be a mostly successful tactic to occupy his thoughts with something other than Georgiana and allowed him to be introduced to a number of Mr. Randolph¡¯s political and legal connections.

    As the evening wore on, musicians were ushered into the room and a dance was announced. Camden was unfamiliar with the particular dance and watched as others took their places. Perhaps it would be simple enough that he could learn it simply by observing. A short but sharp pang of jealousy struck him as another young man took a place across from Georgiana on the floor. Though she was directly across from Camden at that moment, she seemed to avoid making eye contact with him now. He watched as she and the young man gracefully moved through the steps. Any lingering jealousy instantly melted away as he considered just how beautiful a thing it was to watch Georgiana in motion, even if from a distance, and even if with another man. She smiled as she danced and he could see her lips moving in conversation, but he assured himself that this was nothing more than the pleasantries one would exchange in sharing a dance.

    As the dance ended, Mr. Randolph appeared at Camden¡¯s side and said simply ¡°Come with me for a moment.¡± He ushered Camden into a small room just off the main hall. Senator Burwell was seated in a high-backed chair, fiddling with a snuff box.

    ¡°Good evening, Joseph. Please come in.¡± He motioned to the other chairs in the room and also made a show of offering the box of snuff to his brother in law.

    ¡°No, thank you, James. But I am pleased to introduce my apprentice, Mr. Camden Page.¡±

    ¡°Mr. Page I am pleased to make your acquaintance. My brother in law tells me that your apprenticeship is proceeding very well and that you have done some very important work for Mr. Monroe while the two of you were in Philadelphia. I commend you.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, sir.¡± Camden was reluctant to say any more. In the presence of the man who would decide whether his growing affection for Georgiana would be allowed to transform into anything more, silence seemed the best course for now.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    ¡°I am given to understand that you met my daughter some months ago when she came to return some books.¡±

    Camden merely nodded and Senate Burwell narrowed his eyes very slightly, as if the non-verbal response irritated him slightly and yet he did not want to show that it did.

    ¡°My brother in law has recently told me that you wish to be allowed to call on my daughter. He speaks very highly of you and he knows my daughter very well. Having also discussed the matter with her mother, I have come to the conclusion that we will allow you to visit Georgiana at our home, provided that she wishes to receive you.¡±

    Camden managed a simple, ¡°Thank you, sir¡± and then paused. ¡°I hope that I will meet with your approval and with that of your wife and of your daughter.¡±

    ¡°You show much promise, Mr. Page. Continue on the path my brother in law has set for you and you will go far. Georgiana is here this evening and you may feel free to speak with her.¡±

    The Senator took another pinch of snuff and then rose from his chair. ¡°If you will excuse me, I must return to the rest of my guests.¡±

    When the door had closed, Mr. Randolph gave Camden a fatherly clap on the shoulders.

    ¡°My brother in law is no great judge of character, but he is fiercely loyal to his family, including me. He may say that you show promise only because that is what I told him, but be sure that he accepts my judgment on the matter unquestioningly. I know you will not disappoint him or me.¡±

    ¡°Mr. Randolph, I don¡¯t know what to say. How can I possibly thank you? This seemed impossible not that long ago.¡±

    ¡°You can thank me by not keeping my niece waiting for you any longer. Do you think that you two are the only ones who have noticed the longing glances you have been exchanging all night?¡± Camden felt his face flush in spite of himself. ¡°Go to her and enjoy the rest of the evening. This old man will stay out of your way.¡±

    Camden felt as if he must be beaming, so rapturous was the feeling that welled up from within him. He could not say whether he walked or floated back out to the main room. He arrived to find that the musicians were playing another dance, but did not immediately see Georgiana. She did not appear to be taking part in the dance, so he worked his way around the outside of the room, excusing himself as politely as possible whenever a knot of conversation blocked his path.

    Then, finally, he saw her. She was seated on the same couch where she had been talking to her mother earlier, only now she was seated alone. She broke off from watching the dance, and noticed Camden working his way in her direction. At that moment, Camden discovered that a look can often say much more than words. Her expression changed instantaneously from one of mild interest, to something he could not quite describe. He read in her face, all at once, relief, joy, and perhaps a dozen other emotions that he could not distinguish. Distinguishing them was unnecessary, however, because whatever they were, he was sure that he was feeling them along with her.

    Approaching the couch where she was seated, it occurred to him that they must return to referring to one another more formally. ¡°Miss Burwell, may I sit?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Certainly, Mr. Page. I welcome your company.¡±

    The two sat facing one another, without speaking, for what seemed to Camden an hour. Being near Georgiana, being able to look into her eyes--noticing for the first time that they were not blue or green or brown, but seemingly all of them and each of them at the same time--these were enough by themselves even without the exchange of words. The moment that seemed an hour passed and it was Georgiana who broke the silence.

    ¡°Are you enjoying the party?¡±

    ¡°Oh, yes. Your family¡¯s hospitality is without equal, I am sure. The refreshments, the people, and the music have all been marvelous.¡±

    She leaned closer, lowering her voice. ¡°You have spoken to my father, I presume?¡±

    ¡°I have. He consents to our visiting with one another.¡± He shook his head slightly before continuing. ¡°I must confess that I was never more nervous in my life. Given his response to my initial letter, I was not at all confident that he would have changed his mind.¡±

    Georgiana bit her lip and Camden could tell that something was not right. ¡°Is something the matter, Georgiana?¡± He had let down his guard, slipping out of the formalities they both knew they must observe.

    ¡°In a manner of speaking, yes. I must confess something to you.¡±

    Camden felt a lump tighten in his throat. For a moment he could think of nothing but the pain that would ensue if he were cast down from the airy heights of joy he was experiencing.

    ¡°My father did not, in fact, change his mind about you. He could not change his mind, because he never made it up in the first place. You see, Cam, he never read the letter you intended to deliver to him. When you came that day, I took the letter from Andrew and read it. Knowing how my father would react--he would have forbidden us to ever speak to one another--I wrote the letters that you and my uncle received shortly thereafter.¡±

    Camden was stunned. He forced his jaw not to hang agape and resisted the overwhelming urge to hang his head. Georgiana continued, speaking even more softly now than before.

    ¡°It was horribly unkind of me to keep this secret from you for so long. I know that. I will understand if you cannot forgive my foolishness, but at the time it seemed to be the only thing to do. Can you ever . . .¡±

    She trailed off, but Camden judged by her eyes that she simply could not find the words to say the other things she believed she needed to tell him. He looked down, only now noticing that she had rested her hand on top of his.

    ¡°Knowing you, Georgiana,¡± he began, ¡°writing to you, speaking to you--all of these have been the most fulfilling experiences of my life. Were I to live another two lifetimes, I cannot imagine any person or thing that could bring more joy into my life than you. Believing that you and I might never be able to speak again was the most painful moment of my life.¡±

    Here, he paused, wanting to choose his words carefully. He looked into her eyes and could tell that she was on the verge of tears. He dreaded the thought of making her cry far more than he supposed she dreaded the thought of crying in his presence.

    ¡°But that is all in the past.¡±

    This, in fact, did release her tears, a single rivulet streaming from each eye down the porcelain contours of her cheeks.

    ¡°I forgive you without hesitation and without reservation. My affection has grown far too strong to be shaken by what you have confessed. I only hope that your affection for me has experienced a similar evolution, for I must confess something as well.¡±

    Leaving her hand on his, she used the other to blot away her tears with her handkerchief.

    ¡°While I was in Philadelphia you asked after my safety. Regrettably, I kept certain details from you, wishing to spare you any further worry for me. I told you that I was near the scene when Mr. Pinckney was murdered, but what I did not tell you was that I intervened to catch one of his murderers. I wrestled the man to the ground, but he drew a knife on me. I can only assume he was prepared to do the worst if it would have made possible his escape. I--¡±

    Here, Georgiana cut him off. ¡°I forgive you as well, of course. Held up to the pain I caused you, the worries that you spared me pale in comparison.¡± She gently dabbed her eyes again. ¡°May we talk of something else now?¡±

    Camden noticed Senator Burwell through a gap in the crowd. Sensing that Georgiana must have noticed the same thing, they both withdrew their hands.

    ¡°Of course. Perhaps you can explain the steps of this dance to me? We had dances from time to time in New Kent, but I do not recall ever seeing this particular dance. Is it new?¡±

    ¡°It is relatively new, yes, and not unlike the cotillion. It is called the quadrille.¡±

    As the dance proceeded in front of them, Georgiana explained the steps and turns and exchanges that took place. Camden tried to absorb it all, sure that he could recall the steps if asked, but less sure that he could actually dance them. The music ended and the couples took their seats, allowing a new group to come to the floor.

    ¡°Shall we try?¡± Camden asked. To try was the best he thought he could hope for. He was unpracticed in dancing to begin with and had certainly not had many opportunities to hone his skills since beginning his apprenticeship.

    To both his delight and his slight dismay, Georgiana said ¡°I would most enjoy that.¡±

    He led her out onto the floor and took his place, painfully aware for the first time that his mammoth farmer¡¯s build stood out from all the other guests. Georgiana was tall for a woman, but she seemed almost tiny standing next to him. He thought he could feel eyes boring into his back and directly within his line of vision was none other than Senator Burwell. His face, somewhat to Camden¡¯s surprise, seemed to convey a sort of pleasant curiosity. That it was not hostile was mildly calming. More calming still was the sensation of looking into Georgiana¡¯s eyes as the music began. She returned his bow with a curtsy and the dance began.

    Almost immediately, he nearly lost his timing. It was only when he stopped worrying about his feet and looked at Georgiana that he realized she was subtly but carefully guiding him through the dance with a glance or a nod at the appropriate time. He felt as if he had hardly had time to enjoy the experience before the music stopped and the dance was over. He clapped politely with the other couples to thank the musicians.

    They found their way back to the couch and sat down again. Camden still felt as if he were being watched, a fact which was confirmed when he looked across the room to see a pair of older women looking toward Georgiana and whispering. She had noticed as well and said ¡°Pay them no mind; they are my old spinster aunts who take it upon themselves to ruthlessly scrutinize any potential suitors. They mean well, I assure you.¡±

    ¡°I only wish that they could mean well a little less conspicuously.¡±

    Georgiana quickly stifled a laugh by putting her hand to her mouth. ¡°Indeed, subtlety has never been their strong suit.¡±

    ¡°Do you suppose they really see me as a potential suitor, then?¡±

    ¡°Oh, most certainly. I can hardly talk to any man of remotely marriageable age without stoking their speculation. But I do love them dearly.¡±

    Settling back into the softness of the couch they contented themselves with each other¡¯s company and conversation. He was frozen in rapt attention as she described every seemingly mundane detail that had not already been included in one of her letters. He was amazed when she could not seem to get her fill of his recollections of Philadelphia, the convention, and the debates in the General Assembly.

    ¡°What do you suppose all of it means for our beloved Virginia?¡± she finally asked. ¡°What does the future hold?¡±

    It was a difficult question to answer. In less than the span of a generation Virginia had gone from a royal colony to an independent commonwealth. She had cast off a monarchy in favor of a republic and only just now had fought back what surely would have proved to be a partial return toward the sort of centralization of power for which she had fought a war. Camden could not well say what the future might hold for Virginia or America. In the same vein, he could not say what the future might hold for him and for Georgiana. He had hopes and aspirations, of course, but he knew that nothing was guaranteed. It seemed to him that the question of his future and the question of Virginia¡¯s future presented the same dilemma.

    ¡°What does the future hold?¡± he finally responded. ¡°I don¡¯t know, but as long as I have you with me I am eager to find out.¡±