The Whiskey Rebel

Duer attempted a dismissive smile. “Tell my man Whippo your creditors’ names.”

“And what of Hamilton ’s man?” I asked. I did it on behalf of Pearson, so he would think me his ally, but also because I wished to know. I could not have Hamilton and this new spy of his put a stop to things before the final blow was struck.

“I’m sure it is nothing,” said Duer. “You may ignore it.”

“I think,” I said, “it might be better if you were to limit your time in Philadelphia until the Million Bank launch.”

“I had hoped to go to a gathering at the Bingham house next week.”

“By all means, go,” I said, “but do not linger. Go and stay for a day or two, if you must, but do not remain too long, not until after the launch. Then everything will be made easy.”

Pearson left the room, and I walked Duer to the door, to put him at ease. I saw now how things must be. I could not save Cynthia Pearson entirely. I did not know if I could save her house and the great wealth she had long enjoyed, but I would save her from total destruction.

Once Duer was out the door, I turned to find Pearson in the foyer, his arms stretched behind him while one of the serving girls helped him on with his coat. He dusted it off once it was upon him and turned to me. “I don’t know how you can trust that man. He is the devil.”

“He’s not,” I said softly. “He is brilliant, but perhaps not as effective at explaining himself as he might be.” I could not have told a bigger lie, of course. Duer was a fool, but quite good at getting people to do what he wished. That had ever been his secret. He understood no more about finance than anyone else and less than many.

“You do know I am fond of you, do you not?” I asked him. My tone was sweet but not flirtatious. I hated myself for even the suggestion that I would seek to harm Cynthia in this way, but I could not have Pearson abandon the scheme-not now. If he left, others might follow, and then Duer would fall far too soon. Perhaps Pearson need not ruin himself with the Million Bank launch. I might find a way-Saunders, perhaps-to make certain he did not lose the last of his wealth there. But for now I needed him to remain steadfast.

He seemed stu

I hated his vile touch. His oversized hands hardly seemed to belong to a human body, and yet I smiled. “I know Duer better than almost anyone, I think. Do you not agree?”

He continued holding my hand, but we had moved from the amorous to the financial, and he perhaps forgot he still touched me. “It does seem that way.”

“He parses out information a little at a time. I shall tell you what he will not. Do not sell your four percents, Mr. Pearson. No matter how low the value falls, no matter how much you lose on them, do not sell them. They will come back. I swear to you, they will come back, and if you will hold on, your patience will be rewarded and you will not only not be the loser for your efforts, you will profit. Duer tells no one this because he does not wish anyone to act upon it, but you have the right to know.”

He enveloped my other hand in his meaty paw. “I know not how to thank you, madam. Not only for the kindness of putting my anxieties to rest, but for showing me I have not been a fool.”

I pulled away, I hope not too abruptly. “It is our secret,” I said. I wished him gone and breathed with relief when he left the house, though the relief was illusory. I had taken a chance. I had risked my position, the wealth of my band of whiskey rebels, and even the scheme itself, for if Duer suspected, even for a moment, that I was anything other than a clever admirer, I should be out, and, once out, I would be powerless. Yet I had no choice. I had reluctantly turned a blind eye while Duer ruined one speculator after another, even when he sent his men out to the street to ruin tailors and fishmongers, but I would not let him ruin a wife and mother who had befriended me. I would not do it, and I could only hope I-and my friends-would not suffer for my loyalty.

B ack in Philadelphia, a general discontent fell over the house at Elfreth’s Alley. When I returned after my first New York visit of the year, I found Dalton out but Richmond and Skye home, clearly angry with one another.

“You are spending too much time with Duer,” Richmond said to me.

I sat in our narrow gathering room on the ground floor. There was a small sofa and several chairs. Skye had brought me tea, which I sipped, but neither of them would join me. Skye sat across the room, watching Richmond as he paced like a caged tiger at a county fair.

“Have you forgotten why we came here?” I said. “Duer and Hamilton stole from us the money owed us and lied to us, that we might trade it for misery and deprivation in the West. Then, once we turned that misery into success, they took it away again-their theft disguised as a tax levied upon those with no money. I spend time with Duer not because I delight in his vile company but because I want to destroy him and save the nation from Hamilton.”

“Fine goals, those,” said Skye, “and I rejoice in them, but there’s more too, let us not forget. We get not only revenge from this but compensation too. Our Joan has already more than tripled our holdings.”

“At what cost?” Richmond said. “She cleaves so close to Duer, I doubt she herself knows whose side she’s on. Tell me, Joan, do you care more for the country and for justice, after this tripling of holdings?”

Did I not know better, I would have thought Richmond had become jealous, but that was not it at all. He had always been cynical, had always been opposed to any project other than licking our wounds and finding the best possible hole in which to hide ourselves. He accused me of the worst because he feared the worst.

Skye rose to his feet. “You’ll apologize,” he said.

“Please sit, John,” I said softly. I turned to Richmond. “You grow tired of doing nothing, I know. The time for action will come, and if it does not there’s no helping it, but one way or another it will be over soon enough. It will be over by March or April, I promise. We will have revenge, the whiskey tax will be repealed, Hamilton and Duer will be destroyed. Then we may go our separate ways, if that is what you wish, but we will have money with which to do it. I know it is hard to be patient, but you must persevere. There is no other choice.”

When a man’s blood is up, there is nothing quite so infuriating as good, solid reason. Richmond grabbed his coat and left the house at once. After a moment of silence, Skye walked over to me, took away my cup of tea, and left the room. He came back in a moment with a bottle of wine and two glasses. He set them on the table, poured two glasses, and sat directly across from me.

“You’ve got to give Richmond something to do,” he said. “He will go mad, and he will drive me mad. He’s always been more beast than man. Not in the brutal way we often use the term, but he is meant for doing and action, for being outdoors and finding his own food. Sitting about in a house all day attempting to draw no attention to himself is no life for him.”

“We may need him yet,” I said, “though I pray God no. If things come to a crisis, we’ll be glad of him, and he’ll be glad to be of use. It ca

“‘They also serve who only stand and wait,’” he quoted, “and cook di

I sipped my wine and closed my eyes. Behind me the fire burned; I loved the feel of the heat on my neck. I had been in a carriage all the day before, and now to be upon a comfortable sofa with a glass of wine seemed the height of luxury.

I was able to enjoy my peace only a moment, however, before the door flew open hard and loud. I leaped up, knowing not what to expect, but fearing either we had been discovered by Duer for what we were or that Richmond was back, somehow more angry than before.