Daniel Alloway inhaled the acrid scent of printers’ ink and wished himself anywhere but here. Standing next to Dr. Franklin’s printing press catapulted him into the past—into grief—and that wasn’t a place he willingly chose to go.
Newly printed pages hung overhead, drying on ropes that crisscrossed the ceiling. Muffled voices rose from riverboats passing nearby. The building was near the edge of their host’s property with a view of the Seine River.
“Tis a fine typeface, is it not?” Franklin squinted at the tiny metal squares held fast in a narrow tray. The letters glinted silver in the morning light streaming through the windows.
“Fine, indeed.” Daniel pretended to study the composing stick and its parade of letters. His fingertips recalled the feel of setting type, his hands, the act of locking type into place in the frame. He’d thought that all of life could be condensed into the words and sentences he created one letter at a time.
And now? He’d never again feel the magic of transforming a writer’s thoughts into print. The work required strength. It required two hands. His right hand was still scarred from the injury he incurred when he escaped from a British prison ship in New York Harbor. His palm was still frozen as if it were forever scooping water from a lake.
“But I warrant you didn’t bring me here to discuss type.” Daniel swept his good hand round the one-room building where Franklin had installed his press.
Franklin’s gaze dropped momentarily to Daniel’s hand, then rose again. “I didn’t mean to cause distress, Mr. Alloway. I was merely searching for a private place to speak.” His expression softened. “That’s partly why I wanted a printing press again. I missed the work, too.”
Daniel brushed off the sympathy. “The setting makes me blunter than I might otherwise be, Dr. Franklin. You needed a private place for what purpose? I’ll admit to feeling penned in here.”
Franklin laughed, and relief washed over Daniel. His bluntness was forgiven.
“Shouldn’t your Mrs. Parcell be arriving any day?”
Becca’s arrival had nothing to do with this meeting. But Franklin’s question was polite, and so Daniel answered. “Yes, her ship should arrive soon, though it’s deucedly difficult to tell how long any voyage takes. I’ve paid at the post-house in Nantes to send a messenger ride here as soon as they arrive. I’ll leave to meet them on the road and bring them back myself.”
“Good. When she arrives, I shall require your services and hers,” Franklin continued.
“Her services? I can’t imagine what you mean.” Daniel tilted his head, studying the older man until he realized that Franklin studied him in the same manner. No more than a handful of people were privy to their missions for General Washington in New York and Philadelphia.
Franklin swept up a soft cloth from a nearby hook with one hand and a small metal letter from a wood case with the other. He polished the S, returned it to its small bin, then picked up a P. “Clean. Good. Good.” A pause. “General Washington sings your praises, as do Alexander Hamilton and your employer, Mr. Barnes.”
“I know, Dr. Franklin. I read the letters of introduction they wrote before presenting them to you last fall. They were too kind.”
“I didn’t mean the letters of introduction.” Franklin half turned to Daniel, his cheeks crisscrossed with fine wrinkles. Part of his face remained in shadow. “I know about Mrs. Parcell’s husband. I know about the plot you discovered in New York City and about the counterfeiters in Philadelphia.” His watery blue eyes grew sad. “I know a bit of your history, too.”
Something heavy settled in Daniel’s chest. “I don’t know what you think you know, but….”
“Please stop. Lying doesn’t suit you. I have my own sources of information.”
Daniel didn’t answer. Grief over the death of his wife Amelia and infant son Silas had driven him to America before the War for Independence began. Becca had brought him back to life. None of that was Franklin’s business.
“And I require your services, as well.” The jocular, distracted elder statesman was gone. In his place was a Benjamin Franklin Daniel hadn’t seen before.
“I have a job, Dr. Franklin, a fine one working here for the richest man in North America. I won’t put that at risk.”
And then Daniel understood. “I thought we were merely agreeable guests you wished to add to your menagerie. I was so grateful for your invitation that I didn’t let myself ask why you invited us to live here.” He swept his arm out as if to take in all of the Hôtel de Valentinois, its stone walls, manicured gardens, endless silent servants, and view of Paris in the distance.
There were two other Americans staying at the chateau, a sculptress and Dr. Franklin’s personal secretary.
“America has been generous to me, Dr. Franklin. But I’ve paid my debt to her. So has Becca. The war will have to continue without us. And I won’t put Becca in danger, not even to keep your fine roof over her head.”
Franklin had charmed Daniel at their first meeting. He’d hoped the famous American could use his influence at court to help untangle a shipping problem for Mr. Barnes. Within an hour, the two former printers were comparing favorite inks and papers, sharing childhood stories. Was Franklin wooing him even then?
Daniel had leaped at the invitation to stay here until he and Becca wed, and, more importantly, he was grateful for the chance to leave Paris. The pickpockets. The sound of fights at two in the morning. The smell of decay everywhere. It was a city of mud and danger. He couldn’t leave Becca, Augusta, and Hannah in such a setting.
Daniel was angriest at himself. He was a gifted liar and even more talented at catching others in lies. Franklin had fooled him.
“We are friends, Mr. Alloway. Do not doubt that.” Franklin opened his own arms as if to embrace Daniel. “I wouldn’t have extended an invitation to live here otherwise. ‘Tis a small favor I’m asking, an important favor but one that doesn’t put you or Mrs. Parcell in any danger.”
“What is it you want, Dr. Franklin? As briefly and clearly as possible,” Daniel said.
“I do apologize. I have become too accustomed to the French court.” Franklin blew out a long breath through pursed lips. “An ocean of words accompanies even the simplest request. And this is a simple request.”
Daniel raised one eyebrow. “Nothing about you is simple.”
“You may be right.” Franklin sighed. “I shall begin again. The chateau’s owner, Monsieur Chaumont, offered me the use of his property to keep me and the American delegation away from spies and gossips. It hasn’t worked. Whitehall and the King of England know my business almost as soon as I know it. So do the French, for that matter. There is a traitor in my household. Briefly and clearly, I am spied upon.”
Franklin stepped to the only chair in the roughly built space, an unfinished pine seat. “I must sit. Excuse my rudeness in not offering you a chair.”
“Not at all.” Daniel’s shoulders tightened. Was Franklin in pain or merely seeking a more sympathetic hearing? In either case, his curiosity was aroused. “I won’t ask how you’ve learned they know your secrets. I’ll assume you’re correct.”
“You’ll assume that I’m correct?” Franklin slapped one knee with his hand. His voice rose.
“Does the great Dr. Franklin never make a mistake?” Daniel couldn’t help himself.
“This is why we are friends, Mr. Alloway. You speak to me as if I am a fourteen-year-old printer’s apprentice. Sometimes, I need reminding that I am not yet just a statue on a pedestal.” Franklin’s laugh was a goose’s honk.
Daniel went back to Dr. Franklin’s puzzle. “Many hands touch correspondence. How do you know the leak originates here? Pouches of letters are stolen from ships. Becca—Mrs. Parcell—only receives two in three letters I send.”
“I tested my hypothesis.” Franklin’s face lit with pleasure. He suddenly looked years younger. “I made some ridiculous claim about General Washington’s next moves at the dining table. And I heard those claims repeated in newspapers out of London two weeks later.”
“So one of your guests is betraying you.” Daniel leaned back against a wall and crossed his arms.
“A friend or a servant. There are too many to keep track of.”
“It would help if you were more careful with your papers. I’ve seen correspondence from the French government lying scattered in the sitting room and the library.”
“I am not a private secretary, Mr. Alloway.” Franklin’s face darkened. Do not tell me how to represent my country.”
Franklin was open to limited criticism, it seemed, and Daniel had gone too far. But he wouldn’t apologize for telling the truth. He scanned the workshop. There were two windows, and the single door to his left was closed. It didn’t mean no one was listening to them. Would he look like a fool if he whipped open the door and window to check?
“What do you want from us?” Daniel asked reluctantly.
“You live with us now. I want you and Mrs. Parcell to listen to all the residents here. Only to listen. Your history with traitors may make you hear and see with a certain sensitivity.”
“Sensitivity?” It was Daniel’s turn to laugh.
Franklin nodded.
“And only listen?”
Another nod.
“Listen to whom?”
Franklin’s lips curled into a satisfied smile as if Daniel had already agreed. He began to recite the names of his guests.
“I don’t understand why you trust us,” Daniel said. “General Washington and the others could be mistaken about me. Perhaps I fooled them all. I may be a British spy, too.”
“Yet another spy at Passy. I swear the place is filled with them,” Franklin said with good cheer. “You are filled with ‘maybe’s’ and ‘perhaps’s.’ Perhaps I have someone watching you.”
Daniel wondered if he and Dr. Franklin wore the same look of speculation as they stared at one another now. They burst into laughter at the same time.
“Will you help me?”
“I will help you. But Mrs. Parcell will make up her own mind. I don’t speak for her.”
“Indeed? And she will be your wife?” Franklin’s pale white eyebrows rose.
“As quickly as I can arrange our wedding.”
“And you do not speak for her?”
“She speaks for herself,” Daniel repeated. “Always.”
“How…interesting.”
Daniel grinned. “She is interesting and more. You will like her.”