Mercy for the Patriots

Chapter Seven: I Know How to Save This

When at last the mansion was dark and quiet, I removed myself from the room which Elizabeth, Aunt Ford, and my unfortunate self shared. I had kept my petticoats and gown on after dinner, leading my aunt to think I was mentally disabled. But that wasn't unusual.

General Washington's headquarters was in the parlor that I had sewn in on that first day of December, when the army came to Morristown. As I approached the closed door, a thin slant of yellow candlelight, as thick and rich as newly churned butter, spread from beneath the door. Inside, the rustling of paper and the scratching of a quill could be heard. My hands shook slightly as I approached the door.

Obedience had died for his new country— I would do the same, to avenge his death and and the others who had died along with him.

I drew in a breath and quickly knocked on the parlor's door. The sound rang through the silent mansion, and then General Washington quietly opened the door. His deep blue eyes looked momentarily confused, then his face reverted back to the iron mask he wore over his emotions.

"Miss Painter," he said as a greeting, nodding his head to me. "Can I be of assistance?"

"No, sir," I said breathlessly. "I-I want to assist you."

A small crease in his forehead surfaced. "Whatever do you mean?"

"General Washington, I want to join you and the Continental Army as an honorary camp-de-aide."

For a moment, the General's iron mask broke into a smirk, and I felt the blood rush to my face.

"Miss Painter..." he trailed off, then looked over his shoulder as a familiar voice called to him from the inside. He turned back to me, opening the door wider. "Come on for a moment."

I entered the parlor, finding it a much nicer place than it was when I was in there last. A fire blazed in the fireplace, yet one of the windows was propped open to the dark outside. Papers were scattered on a heavy wooden desk, and a half-finished letter glistened with new ink stains.

Lafayette stood by the window, staring at me. His eyebrows were arched critically beneath his unpowdered red hair.

General Washington closed the door with a heavy thunk, and sat down in a chair. He looked incisively at me.

"Miss Painter, why have you come to ask to be an aide of mine?"

I matched his gaze steely. "I know the circumstances of your army, General Washington. The battle strategies that your army comes up with are clique and the British know them. If things don't change soon, we're not going to to have an army left."

As I spoke, I saw the General's expression change from being amused to truly paying attention.

"I've been studying battles and armies for my entire life, taught by books and my older brother. I know how to save this war."

Wordlessly the General stood from his chair and slid a piece of paper towards me. A detailed map of the southern colonies shone up at me.

"Thousands of soldiers are threatening our position in Philadelphia," he said slowly. "Tell me how to prevent it."

Seeing the challenge in his eyes, I pulled the map closer and studied the area around the capital. A few moments later, I took a deep breath and began.