Washington's Lady by Nancy Moser Read Free Book Online Page A

more in my favour.
    *****
    We did have more chance to speak. After breakfast the next morning we were conveniently left alone—again. There was no more talk of battlefields, nor of any incidents of our past. We spoke of the future, of our hopes and desires. And we spoke of the one thing which made George come alive: we spoke of Mount Vernon.
    I had never witnessed so much passion for land. I had often observed men coveting land, and heard them talking with zeal about obtaining more, but the passion that fueled George’s talk sprang from a deeper place, as though he found true connection with the soil and the agricultural roots he planted, as though they were intertwined with his own.
    Although my Daniel had been very interested in our land and in the success of it . . . although he had offered many plans, in retrospect I realized they were more the plans of defense, to sustain what his family had started. On the other hand, George planned on the offensive, dreaming about what he would change to make things better. Where Daniel had exhibited ambition of the mind, George was consumed with an ambition of the soul.
    “I wish to make Mount Vernon the greatest plantation in all Virginia.”
    “You do not think small, George.”
    “Nothing is accomplished in small dreams.” He cleared his throat, then offered more details. “The grass that breaches the hill toward the house has died. It needs to be completely reseeded. I wish for the first prospect of Mount Vernon to take one’s breath away with its beauty, with trees lining the road, and flowers accompanying the guest’s journey closer.”
    I had to smile.
    He noticed. “Have I said something humourous?”
    “On the contrary. I smile because I am deeply impressed.”
    “By flowers?”
    “By men who surprise me. By men who can speak of battles and beauty. You seem to be a man complete in all things, Colonel Washington.”
    “Not all things.” He looked away.
    The time for his departure was nearing. I did not want him to go. And though he had not spoken directly, by all means indirect, by all methods of female intuition I possessed, I knew our minds and our hearts had connected. And with this connection . . .
    We would see.

Three
    I entered the parlour and spied Jacky at a window, his knees perched upon a chair.
    “What are you doing, son?”
    “Is he coming soon, Mamma?”
    “Yes. Soon. But I am not certain of the time. You should come away from the window and go about your day. I am sure Patsy would love to have you play with—”
    “No! I am waiting here. I want to be the first to see him.”
    As long as I am the second.
    I looked about the parlour, making certain everything was just so. This would be George’s second visit to White House in less than a month, and if my intuition was correct, this visit would result in a proposal. If it did not, I would be sorely disappointed, for during the two occasions we had spent time together, I had come to revere him as a man, respect him as a soldier, relish him as good company, and react to him as a woman. When in his presence, I wished to be nowhere else. And when apart, I longed to be with him.
    Was I in love?
    If so, it was a different love than what I had felt for Daniel. Perhaps it was Daniel’s age that had made my love for him rooted in comfort and security. With Daniel I was the woman I had spent my entire life training to be: I was the wife of a plantation owner and the mother of many. We complemented each other, he and I. But—may Daniel forgive me—with there being a nineteen-year difference in our ages, there was never any true passion between us. There was an amiable regard, a fondness, a mutual respect and acceptance, but I do not remember feeling pulled beyond myself, lured into a place where the known Martha became a different Martha, someone more than I had ever been before.
    When I was with George . . . he made me feel as though I was incomplete as I was now . There was more to Martha, more