CHAPTER 1

The Potomac Heights, Maryland

1797

She'd been warned not to venture far from the house, norgo near the river, nor climb the dark shale bluffs above it.But Darcy Morgan had inherited an adventurous spirit thatcould not be bridled. It had been her favorite place to retreatsince the age of nine, when she had discovered it one morningwhile trekking with her cousins over the ridge that shadowedthe Potomac River.

Bathed in sunlight, she stood at the bluff's edge and gazeddown at the water as she had done a hundred times before.She looked at the sky. Pink and pearled, speckled with whitesummer clouds, it looked heaven-like in the glow of a goldendusk.

Mottle-winged caddis flies danced in hordes at the brinkand Darcy paused to study them. How could such delicatewings flit so high without turning to dust in the breeze? Itcaressed her face, blew back her dark hair, and eased throughher cotton dress. She breathed deep the scent of wild honeysucklethat traveled with it. Drowsy warmth hung everywhere,while the birds sang evening vespers.

With closed eyes, Darcy listened to the water tumble overthe boulders and rocks below. Stretching out her arms, sheturned in a circle and soaked in the majesty of creation.

"Darcy ... Darcy Morgan ... Where are you, you adventuresomepixie?"

Turning, she spied her uncle, William Breese, as he lumberedalong the ridge toward her. With caution, he steppedover rocks and between roots of great trees, a barrel-chestedman with stocky legs. His eyes were pale green against his swarthyface, his head framed in a nimbus of white hair. Darcy'sfather, Hayward Morgan, had been his half-brother, and Darcywondered if her father's eyes had been like her uncle's, for shecould not remember his face. Breathless, her uncle glanced upto see her, and she skipped down the path toward him.

When she reached her uncle, he put his hands upon hisknees to catch his breath. "Your aunt has been fretting allafternoon, wondering where you had gone off to."

Regretting she had caused her aunt such uneasiness, Darcybrushed back her hair and halted before him. "I am sorry,Uncle Will. I should have told her. I did not mean to causeAunt Mari to fret."

"Ah, the woman has had a nervous constitution from birthto forty and two. She fears that one of her girls, and you, Darcy,could be injured or lost, fall from the bluffs, or be swept into theriver and drowned. She goes so far as to believe that one of youcould be carried all the way to the Chesapeake and then outto sea."

Darcy giggled. "It would be an adventure to survive such anordeal, to perhaps be rescued by our Navy."

He shrugged. "Only you would think so. Your aunt wringsher hands and paces the floor every time one of you venturesout-of-doors. Think of me, dear girl, what I've had toendure."

Darcy smiled and put her arm around him. "Are you angrywith me?"

He smiled and wiggled his head. "I could never be angrywith you, Darcy. I like your drive for exploration. Just look atthat patch of sky. Only God can paint a picture like that."

She raised her face to meet the sunlight. "I've been watchingit for hours, how the light mellows the clouds."

"I wish your aunt were more attentive to the things ofnature."

"To console you, Uncle, I have seen her pause to admirethe flowers she brings into the house."

"Indeed, and now she has news and is eager for you tocome home." Mr. Breese looped Darcy's arm through his andproceeded to walk with her down the hill. "She has the girlsgathered in the sitting room and refuses to read a letter until Ibring you back and we are both present."

"I imagine she is cross," Darcy said.

"She would have forbidden you at this late hour. Next timetell me." He threw his free arm out wide. "I don't mind, andmost likely will join you."

The house belonging to Mr. Breese was modest by well-to-dostandards, but affluent for a Marylander living miles awayfrom the cities of Annapolis and Baltimore. Darcy loved it,with its broad porch and dark green shutters. Its meadowsfilled with Queen Anne's lace. Its forests thick with ancienttrees and wild lady slippers. Above all, she loved the river andthe creeks that flowed into it.

She stepped down the path between rows of locust trees,aiding her uncle along, for he was not strong in the legs at histime of life. The windows glowed with evening sunlight. Thefront door sat open, allowing the breeze to flow free. A shaggybrown dog slumbered on the threshold with his head betweenmuddy paws, and when he heard her whistle, he lifted his headand bounded up to her and her uncle.

When Darcy entered the cool narrow hallway of the house,she pulled off her broad-brimmed hat and shook back her hair.Even with a bright sun that day, she had not worn it on herhead, but let it hang behind her shoulders. She set it on ahook beside the door and paused when she heard her aunt'svoice in the sitting room.

"Darcy," Mari Breese called.

She stepped inside with a smile. "I am here, Aunt Mari."

"Where on earth have you been? I have worried."Mrs. Breese fanned her face with the letter, set it on her lap,and fell back against her chair. Accustomed to her aunt'smelodrama, Darcy dismissed her troubled tone of voice.

"I was out walking." She kissed her aunt's cheek.

"Walking, walking. What is so grand about walking? Onmy word, I do believe there are still Indians roaming aboutwho would be pleased to snatch away a beauty like you. Theymight lust for that lovely hair of yours, I dread to think."

Proud of her locks, Mari Breese tucked her mouse-brownhair, peppered with gray, further into her mobcap. Her eyeswere dark blue, close to the shade of ink that stained the lettershe held. The rose in her cheeks heightened, not from theheat in the room, but from the excitement. Darcy wished shecould calm her. Everyone would be better off.

"Uncle Will said you have news, Aunt. May we hear it?"Darcy sat next to her cousins, who were seated with perfectposture in a row upon a faded settee.

"Yes, Mama. You said you would read it once everyone washere," said Darcy's cousin Martha.

Her eldest cousin possessed a flawless row of pearl-whiteteeth and eyes like her papa's. She and Darcy were the sameage, and their resemblance to each other caused people tothink they were sisters. She wore her hair in a loose chignontoday, silky and dark brown, accenting her fair skin. Darcycould not tolerate the style, and each time Martha urged herto try it she exclaimed it gave her a headache.

"We have been patient," Martha reminded her mother. Theother girls—Lizzy, Abigail, Rachel, and Dolley—chimed in.

"If your father would be so good as to sit down, I will begin.It involves all of us."

Mr. Breese drew his pipe out from between his teeth. He satin a chair beneath the window, picked up the newspaper, andproceeded to look it over.

"Will, your attention please." Mrs. Breese slapped herhands together.

"Here's an interesting article, girls," he said. "In March, agentleman by the name of Whitney invented a machine thatremoves the seeds from cotton. Calls it the cotton gin. Fancythat!"

"More than likely it will add to the South's sinful institutionof slavery," Darcy said.

"I hope not, Darcy. But with an invention of this kind ..."

Mrs. Breese stamped her foot. "Husband, do you wish tohear this or not?"

He set the paper down on his...