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relief for them all when a healthy baby finally dropped into the hands of the waiting midwife, who cleaned off the infant, cut the umbilical cord with a sharp knife, and made sure the child was wrapped warmly. On November 19, 1751, Patsy gave birth to a boy they named Daniel Parke Custis for his father.
    After giving birth, she probably spent a month or so in “confinement,” resting in bed from her ordeal, regaining her health, and nursing little Daniel. Most elite women were aware of the importance of breast-feeding to their infants’ health and often found a great deal of joy in “so sweet an office.” Only if Patsy had been very ill or had insufficient milk would she have called on a wet nurse from among the slaves. She probably continued nursing her son until he was a year or two old; weaning marked a major passage in a child’s life, as well as a mother’s, since she was likely to become pregnant again soon after taking the child from the breast. As the lady of the house, Patsy could revel in her baby in ways that poorer women could not. She could enjoy a clean, sweet-smelling infant, his clothes washed and diapers changed, because a slave nursemaid was brought into the house with Daniel’s birth and tended to his daily needs before handing him back to his mama.
    Little Daniel was his father’s delight, referred to in the yearly orders to London as “my son,” emphasis no doubt on the possessive. We can picture horseback rides with his father or carriage rides with his mother, the minute gentleman attired in his baby dresses topped with sailor jackets and a jaunty feathered hat ordered from London, uncut curls blowing in the breeze.
    A month before Daniel’s birth, another young boy had died in Williamsburg. John Custis had freed Jack, his “favourite boy,” as townspeople referred to his son, bought a small property for him, and entrusted several slave boys and money to the care of a nephew who was to turn them over to Jack when he came of age. John Custis’s will instructed Daniel to house the boy, but it seems clear that Jack remained in town, most likely living with the Moodys at their tavern. Anne was fond enough of him to keep a portrait of “black Jack,” which later descended to her son. Wherever he lived, Jack fell ill with a pain in the back of his neck (perhaps meningitis) and died within twenty-four hours, shortly after midnight on October 9. His property, including the young slaves, remained firmly in the hands of his trustee. The records make no further mention of Jack’s mother.
    Although he wasn’t a burgess, Daniel Custis would have joined the other leading planters and their families in the social seasons of Williamsburg. He and Patsy probably stayed at his father’s convenient house, its gardens still lovely with Dutch tulips, pink dogwoods, horse chestnuts, and yews. Its four acres included a stable for the Custis coach and a kitchen, with room in the outbuildings for the servants they brought to town with them.
    In April and December, Market Square was taken over by town fairs, with their stalls hawking every sort of merchandise, produce, and livestock. More entertaining were the “games and contests, cockfights, puppet shows, dancing and fiddling, and country activities” that attracted crowds from throughout the Tidewater. Planters strode through the crowds, arrayed in silks and satins, fine as fighting cocks with their ruffles and lace, lords of their little universe. Horse racing, card playing, dicing, and the heavy gambling that went with them added spice to it all.
    Then there were the balls at the Governor’s Palace, the black velvet night of Williamsburg illuminated by candles in the windows of every house. As the hundred or more guests converged, the palace glowed with light, brighter than any other building in the colony. Its public rooms—the grand hall adorned with flags and bayonet-tipped