Dear Diary,

    I had the most wonderful time this evening.  Abigail invited the family over for dinner.  After hiding for weeks in the attic, I was allowed to go downstairs and join them.  They were the people who were closest to me and could be trusted to keep the secret that I am living in the attic of Waterwood House.  

    The ball in Philadelphia with its fancy gowns, exotic foods, and dancing in the candlelit ballroom was a magical experience.  But tonight was even better.  I was surrounded by people who know me, who love me just the way I am, even though I’m in a delicate condition and getting a little pudgy.  And I love them all so much.

    Edmund’s brothers have grown into handsome young men in such a short time.  It was an emotional moment when my youngest sister rushed into the house and into my arms with tears of happiness streaming down her face.  She was living at Turner’s Point with our mother and brother.  We have a special bond, the same kind of bond Abigail and I have.  I don’t know why.  Maybe it is the age gap that brings out the maternal instinct in the older ones.  

    It was a disappointment that our mother was unwell and could not make the trip.  Edmund was also concerned that she would be unable to keep the secret of my presence at Waterwood.  My younger sister swore she would do anything we asked if she could see me again.  

    There were harsh words spoken at dinner about the King.  He was blamed for creating difficulties for the city of Boston that are expected to be so extreme that our brother feels he must go north to see it for himself and to do what he can to help.

    Angry words burst out of Abigail's mouth.  She accused him of being irresponsible.  As the only man living at Turner’s Point, she believed he should do what was right to protect the family’s landholding, not walk away from his responsibilities there.  Edmund let everyone at the table express their opinions before he spoke.  He called these trying times.  He said my brother had convinced him of his sincerity and therefore pledged to oversee operations at Turner’s Point until his return.

    Strong words were exchanged over dinner, but when we rose from the table, we stood as a family.  Strong.  United.

    Though I felt unsure.  Since my marriage to Nathaniel, I had grown to understand the importance of the colonial connection to Britain.  His business relied on a good relationship with British exporters and manufacturers.  He had shown me that the relationship was a simple one.  They made the goods.  Shipped them to Philadelphia.  Nathaniel sold them, giving us a good life.  Simple.  

    In the City, I was attracted to the lifestyle of high society.  I had been a little put off by the women of society, but Becky assured me that we all would be great friends once I got to know them.  And she was right.  

    But then I had to leave.  

    At tonight’s dinner with my family, I felt the earth shift under my feet.  Waterwood is a fine country house with fine furnishings and accessories.  But it is different here.  There is no talk about sleeves or exotic foods.  There is spirited discussion about offenses committed by the King and Parliament.  

    It is all hard to take in.  When I was a child, everyone spoke of the King with respect and reverence.  Now, people—my own family—are saying he is oppressing the people living in the colonies.  Tonight, I heard him called a tyrant.  My family talked of people who are our friends and neighbors boycotting tea.  They are even burning the leaves.  All to protest the high taxes on tea they are being forced to pay.

    Nathaniel’s words rang in my mind about our good and glorious King.  It is hard for me to reconcile both sides.  I love all these people.  

    When I lived in Philadelphia, I did not have to deal with such complicated questions.  Now that everyone seems to be discussing these questions openly, must I pay attention and come to some conclusions myself?

    I do not know who said it tonight, but someone made a point that has given me hope.  I clung to it almost as a lifeline.  Someone suggested that perhaps it is not the King who is leading this campaign against his people here in America.  It was suggested that his advisers might be giving him wrong information and guidance and that soon, the King will put a stop to what my family is calling oppression.  I dearly hope so.

    I must stop thinking about such things.  My heart is beating in my ears.  This reaction cannot be good for the baby.  I took a deep breath and sat back in my chair just taking in the sweet countenances of the people I love.

    But I was given something more to consider.  It was something I was expected to welcome into my life. Tonight, Edmund presented me with a surprise.  A young woman who is to replace my maid Eliza.  

    I could not take my eyes away from the wild, curly, bright red hair of this girl named Cassidy.