WHEN WE RETURNED to Mulberry Grove all seemed well. Mama was cheerful and able to be around and about as usual. Anthony Wayne was there, visiting, lifting her spirits. The house was in order, and Pa, having inspected the gardens, immediately pronounced them "delightful."
That very afternoon, while Pa and General Wayne were out tramping about, George, Nat, and I sat with Mama by the window that overlooked the Savannah River and told her about our trip and the land where our summer retreat would someday be.
"And we've all picked out our rooms already," Nat told her. "Cornelia's is on the fourth floor. In the tower."
I wished he hadn't said that, because Martha was playing the piano across the room, softly, even as we spoke. She stopped abruptly when she heard that.
"Not fair," she said. "I didn't get a chance because I wasn't there. Maybe I would have wanted that room. I am, after all, the oldest girl!"
And she dashed out of the parlor angrily.
Later, we had a welcoming-home supper and Martha did not come to table.
"In a pout," Ma told him, "because she learned that Cornelia already picked out her room from your drawing and she did not get a chance to pick out hers."
Pa sighed. "Have I come home to this, then?"
General Wayne tried to conceal a smile. "She's been put out, of late, because you would not take her on the trip, Nathanael. I would consider it a favor if you would allow me to go and fetch her."
"No," Pa said. "A man of your stature should not be made to beg a spoiled little girl to do what she is supposed to do. George, go and fetch your sister. And tell her if she does not come down immediately, she will find matters most disagreeable. And if she pouts upon coming to table, she will eat in her room for a week."
"Yes, sir." George went, and within five minutes, he had Martha in tow.
Somehow, George could always make sense of matters to us. Martha not only came to table, she apologized for being late and she behaved most admirably.
But later that night I paid for it.
When I was readying myself for bed that beautiful June night, Martha came into my chamber.
"The room on the fourth floor will be mine," she said. "If I went on that trip, I would have chosen it. As the oldest girl, I have that right."
I was fixing the pillows on my bed. "Pa said I could have it. I chose it first."
"We'll see." She stood there like a vision of innocence itself, in her summer nightgown, which was trimmed with ruffles. "The house isn't even built yet. A lot of things can transpire between now and the time it is built."
"What does that mean?"
"Just that a lot of things could change in the course of time." She eyed me steadily. A warm breeze came in through my open window and stirred the folds of her long nightgown.
Now, of a sudden, she appeared downright ghostly, standing there. I shivered, feeling a premonition of fear. "What are you talking about, Martha?" I demanded again.
"Mr. Miller said Pa will never live at Dungeness. You heard him."
"Mr. Miller is a fool."
"I'm going to tell Pa you said that."
"I don't give a cat's meow. He's jealous of Pa is all."
"What do you care? Pa isn't your pa anyway."
Something dropped—no, smashed—inside me. "What? What are you saying now?"
Her smile was no smile at all, but some evil line of glee the devil had sketched across her face.
"I said he isn't your pa. I know it to be true. It's about time you were told."
I moved toward her.
She stood fast. "Do you want to know who is?"
I could not answer. I did not have to.
"You were conceived at Valley Forge. Mama flirted like crazy at Valley Forge."
Here it was again. Valley Forge. Funny, Pa and I had just spoken of it.
"Your pa is Anthony Wayne. Eulinda told me, and she knows because she was there at Valley Forge, and Mama told her."
The floor moved under my feet. Everything was stuck in my throat so I could not swallow. I thought I was going to faint. I felt my face go white.
But ... but Pa had told me all about Valley Forge. And how Mama had been so lighthearted all the time and had lifted the spirits of all the officers and how he trusted her and even General Washington approved. And how they all bonded because of what they had been through!
"You lie!" I hissed.
She laughed. "Eulinda doesn't. Why do you think Anthony Wayne looks at you the way he does when we're all seated at table? Why do you think he's always telling Pa what beautiful children he's raising? He means you! His daughter! And no, to answer your next question, Pa doesn't know. Mama never confided in him. And you'd better never tell Pa, either, or Mama will kill you."
Now she scowled. "And Mama doesn't know I've been told. Or that now I've told you. She needs to keep her secret."
At the door of my room, she turned, smiling like her old self.
"Why do you think you have hazel eyes when the rest of Pa's children don't?"
Somehow, I managed to speak. "Because Mama's aunt Catharine has them."
"Posh. Of course Mama told you that, didn't she? Well, now I'm telling you this. It's time you were enlightened, since you think you have something so special with Pa. So remember it."
I could think of nothing sensible to say.
"And remember, that room in the tower is mine. I want you to tell Pa you have decided to give it to me, to keep peace in the family. He'll love you for that. Or Eulinda may decide, someday, to let it slip out to Pa that you are not his daughter. You know how she is. She talks so much."
Again I felt my face go white. "It would kill Pa."
"It would not kill him. He's been through so much that hasn't. He'd just dismiss her. She wants to go back north, anyway."
"Why would Eulinda do such for you?"
"I told you, she wants to go back north. The other slaves here found out she's being paid and give her a bad time of it. They steal from her. So I give her a few guineas now and then to save up for her trip north, that's why."
"Where do you get them?"
"Wouldn't you love to know?" And with that, she left my room.