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Authors: Eileen Charbonneau
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used for the purpose of drawing children to rest. Had her mother sung them? She must have—from whom else had Judith caught the words?
Take time to rest, my ray of hope,
In the garden of Dramore.
Take heed, young eaglet,
Till thy wings
Are feathered fit to soar.
A little rest and then the world
Is full of work to do .
Sleep, Washington, through the dog and night watches. Sleep and stay engaged with thy sails and ships until I return, she sang.
Judith walked to the waiting coach.
“I believe we should bring the Dartmoor prisoners’ letters to James Madison, Papa, so he can touch the lingering effects of his war. Our new mission of securing Washington’s release may as well commence there too.”
5
Dolley Madison, born into a Quaker family, had been expelled from the Society when she’d married James Madison. If she bore any Friend ill will as a result, it was not apparent. There was much Quaker criticism of this flamboyant wife of a wartime president. But Judith recognized her as a kindred spirit in a satin Empire-waist gown, gold-embroidered headband, and ostrich plumes.
“How many died?” Judith asked the president’s wife.
“Six. There were sixty wounded.”
“Perhaps we should have stayed.”
The lively blue eyes darkened with compassion. “You could not have prevented it, my dear.”
Soon after Judith had been entrusted with the Dartmoor letters, there had been a riot at the prison. The carnage had taken place in the sweet, budding month of April, the very night she met Washington sewing his sails.
“Sometimes it seems this war will never be over,” Mrs. Madison said. “The president has arranged for special couriers to deliver the letters you’ve brought, Judith, along with his assurance that surviving kinsmen will be home soon.”
Then her face lit with the legendary, winning smile that made her either
her husband’s greatest asset or the new capital city’s most notorious seductress. But Mrs. Madison’s personal courage could no longer be held in doubt since she’d saved the country’s sacred documents as the British burned Washington around her. Now she presided over her quarters at the rainbow-hued rooms of Octagon House.
Fayette would love it here, Judith thought, with its bold reflective colors and fantail windows that made the house the embodiment of his philosophy of Enlightenment. She wished he were sitting beside her, Dolley Madison’s charming, male match. “You are now free to search for the family of your impressed sailor,” the president’s wife proclaimed. “I envy you!”
“Me?”
“Here, in my graciously loaned exile from the president’s house, I feed, charm, and entertain diplomats who have great power over the lives of those prisoners you serve. If the men I amuse could exchange places with the Mercer family for one day, I think they would come to realize that they have been fed and charmed enough.”
The hostess’s long-gloved hand opened the folder in her lap. “And now, let me give you a small reward for the work of your generous heart.” She handed over the paper inside. Judith read its contents. “My. How beautifully your eyes change color, my dear,” the president’s wife observed.
“Mrs. Madison. This is—”
“A list of the officers and crew of the lamented American merchant ship, the Ida Lee. Thirty of them were boys under the age of fifteen. All came out of the South. Their names are marked. It is still a large number, but I feel sure your sailmender is among them.”
Judith scanned the list. Jarvis, Cowper, Burnett, Jameson, Morris. All of the boys the names belonged to were dead now—as dead as the six prisoners at Dartmoor, but one. Would she be too late for him, too? She finally lifted her head, remembered her manners. “I thank thee,” she whispered.
“Let the results of my intrigue ease your sorrow. And when you find your captive’s family, come flying back to me and I will begin charming vain men of the British
Take time to rest, my ray of hope,
In the garden of Dramore.
Take heed, young eaglet,
Till thy wings
Are feathered fit to soar.
A little rest and then the world
Is full of work to do .
Sleep, Washington, through the dog and night watches. Sleep and stay engaged with thy sails and ships until I return, she sang.
Judith walked to the waiting coach.
“I believe we should bring the Dartmoor prisoners’ letters to James Madison, Papa, so he can touch the lingering effects of his war. Our new mission of securing Washington’s release may as well commence there too.”
5
Dolley Madison, born into a Quaker family, had been expelled from the Society when she’d married James Madison. If she bore any Friend ill will as a result, it was not apparent. There was much Quaker criticism of this flamboyant wife of a wartime president. But Judith recognized her as a kindred spirit in a satin Empire-waist gown, gold-embroidered headband, and ostrich plumes.
“How many died?” Judith asked the president’s wife.
“Six. There were sixty wounded.”
“Perhaps we should have stayed.”
The lively blue eyes darkened with compassion. “You could not have prevented it, my dear.”
Soon after Judith had been entrusted with the Dartmoor letters, there had been a riot at the prison. The carnage had taken place in the sweet, budding month of April, the very night she met Washington sewing his sails.
“Sometimes it seems this war will never be over,” Mrs. Madison said. “The president has arranged for special couriers to deliver the letters you’ve brought, Judith, along with his assurance that surviving kinsmen will be home soon.”
Then her face lit with the legendary, winning smile that made her either
her husband’s greatest asset or the new capital city’s most notorious seductress. But Mrs. Madison’s personal courage could no longer be held in doubt since she’d saved the country’s sacred documents as the British burned Washington around her. Now she presided over her quarters at the rainbow-hued rooms of Octagon House.
Fayette would love it here, Judith thought, with its bold reflective colors and fantail windows that made the house the embodiment of his philosophy of Enlightenment. She wished he were sitting beside her, Dolley Madison’s charming, male match. “You are now free to search for the family of your impressed sailor,” the president’s wife proclaimed. “I envy you!”
“Me?”
“Here, in my graciously loaned exile from the president’s house, I feed, charm, and entertain diplomats who have great power over the lives of those prisoners you serve. If the men I amuse could exchange places with the Mercer family for one day, I think they would come to realize that they have been fed and charmed enough.”
The hostess’s long-gloved hand opened the folder in her lap. “And now, let me give you a small reward for the work of your generous heart.” She handed over the paper inside. Judith read its contents. “My. How beautifully your eyes change color, my dear,” the president’s wife observed.
“Mrs. Madison. This is—”
“A list of the officers and crew of the lamented American merchant ship, the Ida Lee. Thirty of them were boys under the age of fifteen. All came out of the South. Their names are marked. It is still a large number, but I feel sure your sailmender is among them.”
Judith scanned the list. Jarvis, Cowper, Burnett, Jameson, Morris. All of the boys the names belonged to were dead now—as dead as the six prisoners at Dartmoor, but one. Would she be too late for him, too? She finally lifted her head, remembered her manners. “I thank thee,” she whispered.
“Let the results of my intrigue ease your sorrow. And when you find your captive’s family, come flying back to me and I will begin charming vain men of the British
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