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It flattered him that a brilliant man like Benjamin Franklin could see intelligence in his eyes, and he bit back a proud smile. “I would like to learn to play chess. Maybe tonight, after we get out to sea, I can come to your cabin and you can teach me.”
“Good. Good.” An appealing, young lady strolled by and she cast Addison an admiring glance. He flashed her a grin and her big, brown eyes lit with delight.
Mr. Franklin chuckled and whispered, “I saw that. Oh, to be young and handsome like you with the ability to set a pretty filly all aflutter with just a charming smile.”
She approached and looked up at Addison from under a fringe of dark lashes. “ Parlez-vous français?”
“Oui, je fais.” He leaned in close to her with a leisurely smile. “Faites-moi savoir si vous avez besoin de n’importe quoi.”
She smiled back at him knowingly and then walked away with one last glance over her shoulder.
Mr. Franklin laughed. “Oh, that was smooth.” He imitated Addison’s slow, seductive voice: “Yes, I do. Let me know if you need anything.” He laughed again and then added, “I reckon you’ll be getting to know her better on this journey.”
“Probably,” Addison answered with confidence. Attracting female attention had certainly never been a problem. He would find this pretty filly later, but now he wanted to speak with his idol. “So, Mr. Franklin, why are you going to France right when this war is starting?”
“To enlist their support. I don’t believe we can win this war without the financial backing of the French.”
“Well, I hear you are quite the diplomat, so if anyone can garner their support, I’m sure it’s you.”
A clap of thunder sounded in the distance and a flash of lightning lit up the sky like a million candles, and then left everything looking even darker when it disappeared. Mr. Franklin gazed up at the threatening clouds with a slight frown. “I want to get below before the rain starts, but let me ask you something first. You have heard I’m a diplomat. I want to know what else you’ve heard about me.”
Without hesitation Addison answered, “I’ve heard you are a brilliant scientist and musician and that you speak many languages. I still have some old copies of your Poor Richard’s Almanac , so I know you are a brilliant writer. And some call you one of the greatest statesmen the colonies have ever known.”
“Such lavish praise,” Mr. Franklin muttered while his bright eyes twinkled with humor. “So tell me, my young friend, have you heard anything bad about me?”
Addison gripped the railing and chuckled. “I’m sure you don’t want me to repeat the negatives.”
“But I do,” Mr. Franklin stated with sincerity.
Reluctantly Addison shrugged and then said carefully, “I heard you are an adulterer, because the woman you live with and have children with isn’t your wife. But I don’t believe it.”
“Actually it’s true,” Mr. Franklin stated simply.
Addison’s eyes flashed up to his in disbelief. “What? No. That cannot be true.”
“Listen, Addison, sometimes things aren’t as simple as they seem. Life isn’t always black and white. When I was seventeen, I boarded with Debra’s family. I fell deeply in love and wanted to marry her, but her mother thought I was too young and sent me away. They forced her to marry someone else, who abused her and treated her horribly and then deserted her and moved to Barbados without divorcing her. When my path crossed with Debra again, I knew I loved her as much as ever and I wanted to marry her, and have a family with her, but the church would not allow us to marry without a certificate of divorce. We tried to track down her husband for a long time, but to no avail. For all we know, he died.”
Mr. Franklin took off his spectacles and wiped the sea spray from the lenses. As he put them back on, he let out a sigh and continued. “But I believe God knows our hearts. He knows we wanted to be married legally in a church with a paper vouching that our marriage was legal, but that was not possible. Debra and I said our own vows before God, and I know He understands. People want to make harsh rules and condemn those who don’t keep them, but God is a God of mercy and compassion. Don’t ever forget that. The Bible tells us over and over again not to judge others harshly. Religion should never make you hateful and condemning. If it does, then something is wrong. The Bible says God’s love covers a multitude of sins. People often like to expose sin, but God likes to forgive it.”
A cold rain began to fall and Mr. Franklin pulled his coat more tightly around him. “So, my young friend, I want to leave you with a thought for now. In the wise words of William Shakespeare, ‘The quality of mercy isn’t strained, it droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath. It’s twice blessed—it blesseth him that gives, and him that takes.’” He stared at him thoughtfully. “Do you understand what that means?”
“That the person who is shown mercy is blessed, but the person who shows mercy is blessed as well?”
“Yes, exactly. Always remember that.” Pointing to the lighthouse, he explained, “In many ways, this is a dark, storm-filled world, and those who show God’s mercy to others are like that lighthouse, shining out a welcoming light to those longing to find a safe harbor.” Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked away while calling over his shoulder, “When you have time, come to my cabin, and I’ll teach you to play chess.”
Addison stared after the amazing man and then turned to look at the lighthouse flashing its illumination into the ever-darkening, storm-filled sky. Mr. Franklin had said the lighthouse represented a person showing God’s mercy and shining out a welcoming light to those longing to find a safe harbor. What an interesting concept. His whole life he’d felt adrift. As he gazed at the warm light shining in the darkness, he wondered if he would ever find a safe harbor—a sense of belonging. He certainly hoped so. With a sigh, he walked across the deck and picked up a rope, as the thunder rumbled ominously above him. Maybe someday this light Mr. Franklin spoke of would lead him to a safe harbor, but not yet. Now he had work to do.
Addison picked up a rope and let out a breath of surprise when he looked up to see snow softly falling around him. Only once in his life had he seen thundersnow before. It reminded him of the time he’d met James Creed. For as long as he lived he would never forget the man’s kindness to him.
As Addison continued to work, he noticed how the pure, white snow covered the dirt and grime of the deck. He pondered the words of Mr. Franklin about how love covers sin, but hurtful people want to expose it. So in a sense, love should cover the dirt of sin, just as the snow covered the actual dirt. Was that true? Mr. Franklin certainly had some interesting concepts. He wanted to think more about this one later—when he had time. The ship’s bell rang across the frosty air signaling the beginning of a new journey, and he continued to pull on the rope as the sails unfurled.
Understanding Mercy
Understanding Mercy
Chapter One
Boston 1784
Cherry blossoms burst from the trees and a flurry of pink and white petals floated to the ground like a soft and fragrant snow in the gentle spring breeze. Mercy brushed the petals off her shoulder as she strolled down Beacon Street with her best friend Priscilla and her silly cousin Cordelia, who prattled on about absolutely nothing. After giving them a tedious description of her entire day, she drawled in her thick Southern accent, “And then last night I slept like a baby.”
With a smile, Mercy teased, “So you woke up every two hours wanting to be fed and changed?”
Cordelia had no sense of humor, and she shook her head in confusion. “No, I meant that I slept well.”
Mercy glanced at Priscilla and they both stifled a giggle. Priscilla leaned over and whispered, “The secret to enduring her is just turning a deaf ear.”
“Did you say you had a deaf ear, Priscilla? I didn’t know you had a deaf ear. Since when? What happened?”
Priscilla just chuckled in amusement and changed the subject. “Your mother seemed upset this morning, Corde
lia.”
“Well, actually she just found out that my father was in love with someone else before he married her, but the lady died, and mama was mad that she didn’t know about it before. But anyway, just think, if my father had married her, instead of my mother, I would be only one half here.”
“Actually, you would only be one fourth here. You are only one half here now,” Priscilla said good-naturedly.
Cordelia widened her large, brown eyes and shook her head in confusion again. “What do you mean?”
“Never mind. It was a joke.”
Mercy looked away to hide her laugh and caught their reflections in the window. The French Queen Marie Antoinette’s propensity for huge gowns made the rest of the fashion-minded people of the world rush to copy her, and as a result Mercy thought the three of them looked like ridiculously decorated satin bells. The top half of her body, tightly corseted into a bodice of frothy lace and flirty bows, looked like the handle of the bell, and the lower half of flounced skirts inflated with massive petticoats and hoops made up the base. She bit back a giggle when she thought that her legs inside must be the clapper.
It wasn’t fair. Men got to run around in comfortable knee breeches, stockings, flat shoes, and sensible topcoats, while the females had to look ridiculous in hats as big as barns and dresses even bigger. But the worst part was being forced to toddle around in high-heeled shoes that made walking a chore.
Barry, their elaborately arrayed footman, strolled along behind them like an ever-watchful mother hen guarding baby chicks from a pack of clever foxes. Whenever a man would even glance their way he would grumble, “Look away, man. Nothing to see.” The grouchy giant had guarded her since the day she was born and he took his job quite seriously.
Mercy turned around and gave him a smile and then tried her best to listen to Cordelia as she complained, “All the girls in Savannah are jealous of my beauty. It’s difficult to be this pretty.”
Mercy flashed a glance at Priscilla who smiled at her and then replied with pretend seriousness, “It must be a horrible hardship for you to endure, Cordelia.”
“Yes, it is, sometimes.” With a practiced flutter of her fan she continued without a breath, “Anyway, now that we are all nineteen, we need to start seriously thinking about marriage. Many of my friends are already married. My mama says that with the war killing so many men, it’s a good thing I’m pretty, since there are so few of them left. Stupid of so many men to go off and get themselves killed.”
Priscilla glared at her cousin and said through gritted teeth, “Cordelia, you do know that Mercy’s brother Noah was killed in the war. He was not stupid, so you should watch your mouth.”
“I know he was killed, and it’s stupid,” she snapped back. “He was handsome and charming and wealthy, but now he is dead. He would’ve been a perfect husband for me, but instead his body rots in a grave at Granary Burying Ground.”
Priscilla fumed, “Honestly, Cordelia, you need to learn when to stop talking.” Mercy looked away and blinked back tears. It had been more than two years since the siege of Yorktown, where Noah died, and she missed him as much as ever. He survived the entire horrible war and then was killed in the last battle before Cornwallis and his British troops surrendered. Nothing in her life had been the same since. Her father rarely smiled anymore and she could still hear her mother crying almost every day. Mercy knew Noah would’ve never married Cordelia, but it was a shame he could not marry someone. He would’ve made such a good husband.
Mercy wiped away a tear that slipped down her cheek, and when she glanced up to see the harbor in the distance she suggested, “I would like to visit my father in his office at the docks. I think he’s there today. Would you mind?”
“No, of course not,” Priscilla answered. “It’s a beautiful day to be out walking. I love Boston in the spring.”
“Savannah in the spring is better,” Cordelia countered.
“Oh, I’m sure it is. Perhaps you should go back before you miss the spring there. I’ll tell Auntie that you want to leave tomorrow.”
Without missing a beat, Cordelia replied, “No. We cannot go back until the end of summer when Daddy finishes his work of securing enough companies to buy his cotton.” She continued to prattle on about how much better Savannah was than Boston, until Mercy thought her ears would fall off to put themselves out of their misery.
Mercifully, Priscilla interrupted as she pointed to an old warehouse that had been completely refurbished and turned into a glorious building, “Look at that. My father told me how Addison Berkeley bought this old warehouse.” She glanced out at the harbor. “Many of those new, large ships out there are his, as well. You know my father has always been wealthy, but since Mr. Berkeley has placed his enormous amount of money in my father’s bank, his worth is growing by leaps and bounds every day. Mr. Berkeley has sent all of his merchants to my father’s bank, as well, so they can do their Bills of Exchange through him. My father is beyond happy.”
Mercy merely nodded. She was glad Priscilla’s family was doing well financially, but her family was apparently suffering. Priscilla’s father had come over a few days before and Mercy overheard him talking about her father’s mounting debts. Her father could not understand why he was having such financial troubles and he had wondered out loud if it had to do with Addison Berkeley taking some of his shipping business away. Interesting how the same man could be responsible for both Priscilla’s family’s financial prosperity and her family’s financial demise.
Priscilla’s voice cut into her thoughts, asking loudly, “Mercy, did you hear me?”
Shaking her head to clear her mind, Mercy replied truthfully, “No, my thoughts were wandering. What did you say?”
“I said that Mr. Berkeley came over to talk to my father last night and he is sinfully handsome.”
“Why is being handsome a sin if God made him that way?”
At first Priscilla blinked, dumbfounded, but at Mercy’s smile, she chuckled. “Good question. I’ll rephrase it for you. He is incredibly handsome. I’m telling you, he is at least as tall as George Washington—three inches over six feet. His hair is almost black and his eyes are as blue as turquoise. He walks with a confidence I’ve never seen in another man. I have to admit he looks terribly intimidating, but when my father introduced me to him, he smiled in a friendly way and put me right at ease. He’s so charming he could convince the bees to hand over their honey.”
Cordelia piped in, “I admit he is terribly handsome. My mother saw me staring at him, but she warned me away. He is New Money. There are rumors that he used to be a street urchin here in Boston and he earned his money as a pirate. A pirate. Imagine that.”
Priscilla defended him quickly, “He earned his money as a privateer, not a pirate.”
“What’s the difference? It’s all the same.”
“No it’s not. Pirating is illegal, privateering is not. A privateer can only attack enemy ships at wartime, and they have a letter from their government authorizing their activities. Addison Berkeley captained the Pale Moon at only twenty years of age, and following that George Washington commissioned him to be a privateer and attack the British ships, capture the officers, and seize the cargo. Mr. Berkeley got a portion of the spoils, and he invested it wisely. I think he’s an impressive man, especially since he is only twenty-eight and has already accomplished so much.”
Cordelia shook her head and set her light brown curls bouncing. “Mama says he’s a terrible rake with no thoughts of ever getting married. And even though he is friends with many of the patriots, he is looked down upon by most of those in polite society.”
“Just because they are jealous. He is buying a majestic house in Beacon Hill, a few houses away from ours, Mercy. Some in the neighborhood don’t want him there. They say only Old Money belongs on Beacon Hill, but he fought it. Now, as we speak, his house is being added onto and refurbished. He is a man who will not take no for an answer.”
“Yes, mama says he is a rebel,” Co
rdelia declared with great authority. “He will not wear a wig. I was shocked when he came to your house without his hair even being powdered. If he wants to be a man of society at all, he needs to conform to the ways of fashion and not wear his hair like an office worker. I know wigs are terribly dear and most people cannot afford them, but it’s not like Mr. Berkeley cannot afford one. I think not wearing a wig just shows he will never be a man of the upper class. Mama says he pretends to be good and helpful but he’s really just a scoundrel.”
Mercy frowned. “How does your mama know Mr. Berkeley so well?”
“Oh, she has never met him,” she answered flippantly. “Anyway, the arrogant man should conform to the ways of fashion and wear a wig or, at the very least, powder his hair.”
Priscilla shrugged. “Well, I liked his hair un-powdered. What a shame it would be to cover up such glorious hair. It is as shiny as lacquered ebony. He wore a fine satin ribbon to tie it back in a queue, which looked quite sophisticated. I think he is dashing.”