Susan Reiss | Updates

Sissy's Diary Entry #12: It is 1774. Priscilla, or Sissy as she is now known, is living happily with her family at Waterwood, until a letter arrives.

Susan Reiss — Sun, 12 Jul 2026 00:00:00 +0000

Waterwood House
March 18, 1774

Dear Diary,

Today, my life changed forever with the light tap on the door to my room. When I saw the look on my sister’s face, fear welled up from deep inside me. She was pale as the linens on my bed. She held a letter in her hand.

“I’m sorry,” Abigail said. “It was addressed to me, and I opened it. Sissy, you’d better sit down.”

I moved to the only chair in my room before my wobbly legs gave out from under me. In a shaky voice, hoping to lighten the moment, I said, “We really should bring another chair upstairs so you may sit as well.”

Neither of us laughed. I sat and arranged the skirt of dark blue wool dress around my feet to help keep them warm. When I took the letter, I marveled at how my hand shook.

First, I looked to see that the letter was signed by my dear friend Becky in Philadelphia. Seeing her familiar signature, I could feel a slight smile dance over my lips as my eyes moved to the beginning of the letter and read::

Dear Abigail,
I have news that affects the package in your care. The matched set of which you hold one piece is now separated for the one left here has disappeared in the dark
of night.

I was confused and asked Abigail if she understood what Becky was saying. Her words made me want to sink to my knees. She said that Nathaniel has left Philadelphia, that he had run away in the middle of the night.

Priscilla is a key character in the new dual timeline novel:

Divided in Time - The Revolution is Coming

It is available for pre-order now.
Release Date: July 28, 2026

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Sissy's Diary Entry #11: It is 1774. Priscilla has lived through much change in a short time. Now...

Susan Reiss — Wed, 1 Jul 2026 00:00:00 +0000

Sissy was thrilled at her entrance into society, cried when she left, and traveled to Waterwood. Now, her future beckons.

Waterwood House
April 16, 1774

Dear Diary,

This has been a truly great day. The weather could not be better. The sky was a clear azure blue with just a few wispy white clouds to give the gentle breeze some playthings. The air was sweet with just a hint of the Bay’s salt water. Flowers growing wild in the field meet the eye with a symphony of color. The gardens are ripening with their bounty. It shall be a good year for harvest. And I shall only think of how my body is ripening as well with the growth of the child within me. I am anxious to hold…him? Her? I wish I knew if I will have a son or daughter. Though my dear husband says he will be content with a healthy child, I think he secretly hopes for a son. Does not every father hope for a son to share his interests, to groom into a fine young man, to train for the future when he shall be the master of the property and business his father has amassed? I believe Nathaniel is no different, but he keeps this wish a secret. I hope I do not disappoint him.

As I look forward to the coming months, I am feeling more and more confident. The wonderful thing that happened today only bolsters my strong feeling that all will be well.

My sister was concerned about who might attend me during this visit, since my maid has disappeared. Abigail and her husband, Edmund, feel that secrecy is paramount to my safety during these turbulent times. Having an unfamiliar face in the kitchen and main house, answering only to me and my sister could lead to awkward questions and speculation. Gossip could lead to injury. During these first days of my residence in the attic of Waterwood House, my sister has been attending to my needs. It is a burden difficult for her to assume considering all of her other duties.

What a joyous surprise it was when my brother-in-law Edmund returned to Waterwood after a brief trip away. In his company was a young girl not long into womanhood. He had offered her a position here at Waterwood to see to all my needs. What a thoughtful man. I asked how he had come to meet her. He said it was quite fortuitous that he learned of a young woman from Ireland who had just arrived in the Colony of Maryland. She comes from a large family and has much experience with women expecting and newborn babes. He said he paid the cost of her passage as required and brought her to Waterwood today. I told him that my husband Nathaniel would be happy to repay the debt Edmund had incurred on my behalf.

I cannot say how relieved I am to have Cassidy by my side for these next months. She knows what to expect and will guide me through it. Her understanding and experience will help ensure a safe delivery and show me how to help my baby thrive.

I feel calm and confident now. The only thing that could improve my situation would be to have my husband Nathaniel here with me. I hope to see him soon.

Sissy ]]>

It is 1774. Diary Entry #10 - Tensions are Rising, Even When the Family Comes to Dinner

Susan Reiss — Sat, 27 Jun 2026 00:00:00 +0000

Waterwood House
April 12, 1774

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.

Sissy ]]>

DIARY ENTRY #9 – THIS UPSET WILL NOT LAST

Susan Reiss — Wed, 24 Jun 2026 00:00:00 +0000

Waterwood House
April 9, 1774

Dear Diary,
Today, Abigail seemed agitated. She tried to hide it, said it was nothing, and tried to take an interest in some of the patterns for baby things I had brought with me from Philadelphia. As she looked through them, her comments were dull. “This is nice.” “Pretty.” “Too complicated.” Why would she say that? A complicated pattern only requires time and attention, two things I have in abundance.

I pressed her and she finally admitted that she was distressed about something that was going to happen in Boston. Parliament had passed some new law that would affect the whole city.

It seems that the colonialists are becoming more rambunctious in their reactions to the taxes our King feels he must impose on them.

I do not understand why they should have such negative feelings about the King. He has given them almost endless lands and freedom to pursue their vocations in this place called the New World. He has given them opportunities that they might not have if born and living in England. They should rejoice, not act like petulant children.

I know that Nathaniel and I are beholden to our King. With the business opportunities that Nathaniel had developed Galloway Imports House would not be such a thriving business. He is proud to be Agents for British goods, including tea and household wares,fine textiles, and of course, the finest rum. As a result, Nathaniel had given me a fine home with many fashionable furnishings from London and Paris. We enjoy an active social life with only the most respected leaders of society.

I hate seeing my sister upset. She mumbled something about an illustration about an able doctor. I couldn’t understand what was wrong about an able doctor. Isn’t that what we want? I’m still in a quandary about this because she would not explain it to me.

Perhaps her husband Edmund should not allow my sister to read the newspapers about events. It seems to distress her so. I’m glad my husband restricts my reading of the newspapers and magazines to the latest styles and fashions as well as the latest social news. It is helpful to know who is visiting the city and who would welcome an afternoon call. I admit I do like to read the social news, which some call gossip, not that I believe or indulge in the activity. I find it only entertaining that people can concoct such stories.

I tried to soothe Abigail’s concerns about what might be happening across the waters of the Chesapeake Bay, in Philadelphia, New York, Baltimore, even faraway Boston. To give her relief and reassurance, I shared some of Nathaniel’s observations as he has gleaned them from high-ranking British officers and men of industry. My husband is in a position to see what is happening at the center of this upset. It is his opinion that what is happening is not a serious threat to life in the Colonies and cannot last.

He is a great observer. I clearly heard him state his opinion on more than one occasion. “Look closely at what is happening. The women are working while the men drink, carouse and spout off! The men love going to the tavern more than they want to go to carry a gun on a battlefield.” It made me uneasy when one night he said, “Men were too busy being men to fight the King.” Then he said, “No war was ever won by women.”

Abigail’s reaction was curious. I expected her to be hopeful that all would be well. Instead, she rose from her chair, put a stern look on her face, and said, “That is what I am afraid of.” And with that puzzling declaration, she swept from the room.

I do not understand and part of me doesn’t want to. I don’t want anyone fighting the King.

I just want to go home and enjoy our life the way it was.

Sissy

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Anger Erupts When the Letter Arrives

Susan Reiss — Sat, 20 Jun 2026 00:00:00 +0000

It is 1774. People, especially women, relied on the mail for news that affected them directly. They wrote in their diaries, journals, and ledgers to record events, their reactions to them, and the direct effects on their lives.

After observing the Lord's Day, a letter arrives that causes alarm and could put Priscilla in danger. A local discovery adds to the distress of the day and the disruption of Priscilla’s world.

Waterwood House
March 15, 1774

Dear Diary,
My sister came into my room today and quietly asked if she could sit down. I was concerned immediately because she never does anything like that unless something terrible has happened.

Then she told me. My maid Eliza, who traveled with me from Philadelphia, has run away. Nathaniel had brought her into our household as an indentured servant from London. I thought we had become friends. I was relying on her to help me through my pregnancy and to care for the newborn. And now, she is gone.

I could not hold back the tears. I was truly frightened. What if I get the chance to go back to my home in Philadelphia? How can I give birth among strangers? “I feel abandoned!” I screamed.

My sister held out her arms and pulled me to her. My fears tumbled out in gulps while I sobbed. When she could finally get a word spoken between my wails, she made me realize that I was not alone. I would not be among strangers. She assured me all would be well. I am embarrassed to admit I directed my anger at Eliza toward my sister, demanding to know how everything would be well. Abigail understood and calmly stated, “Because it always is. I will make sure.” I am blessed to have such a woman as a big sister.

Then the expression on Abigail’s face changed. The skin around her eyes tightened. Her mouth grew taut into a thin line. Then she held out a folded piece of paper to me and said I was not totally abandoned. She asked if I knew what she was holding in her hand. With great trepidation, I said that it appeared to be a letter.

She nodded. letter written to her by someone named Rebecca.

I exclaimed, “My friend in Philadelphia?”

Abigail handed me the letter, but she could barely hide her fury. She chastised me for telling a friend our secret plan. Even when I was small, she sometimes acted like she was in charge of me. Our mother didn't even speak to me the way Abigail spoke to me today.

I knew I wasn't supposed to tell anybody. I was scared. The situation in Philadelphia was in such flux before I left that one day we, who were loyal to the king, might go about our day in complete safety. In a moment that could change. I feared those men who were rising up against the King were capable of anything. That is the reason why my dear Nathaniel insisted I come to Abigail here at Waterwood.

But Becky had become my dearest friend in Philadelphia. I knew she would worry if I just disappeared. I also knew I could trust her to keep a secret of my whereabouts.

I had to make Abigail see that she could not deny me the comfort of a sister’s support and love. Yes, I truly think of Becky as a sister and she of me, even though we do not share a blood connection. I tried hard to make her understand.

When I had said all I could say, Abigail went and stood at the window high above the land of Waterwood. I could see she was shivering. I tended the fireplace that Edmund had built into the chimney system. I am grateful that it works.

The longer she stood there in silence, the thicker I felt the wall grow between us. The room began to spin. I could not countenance the loss of both Abigail and Rebecca, my sisters at this time in my life. How cruel these times were becoming.

Then she stepped away from the window and spoke so softly, I had to lean toward her. She said she understood how precious friends could be. Then, with steel in her voice, she reminded me that I was never to send a letter or message of any kind to anyone.

I agreed, then asked if she would pen a note signed by herself and send it to Becky to confirm that the package had arrived. Abigail moved to the door but before she walked out of my attic room, she paused and said she would send the letter.

Then she left me alone.

As I listened to her footsteps fading away, I desired, no desperately needed, arms of warmth and sisterly love around me. But the promise of a letter making its way to Philadelphia would have to be enough.

Sissy

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Priscilla's Diary Entry #7 - I Am To Be A Prisoner

Susan Reiss — Wed, 17 Jun 2026 00:00:00 +0000

Priscilla has traveled home to the Eastern Shore at the urging of her husband. At Waterwood, he believes she will be safe there surrounded by friends and family. Only she is to discover she will be a prisoner.

Priscilla's Diary Entry #7

Waterwood House
March 13, 1774

Dear Diary,

My welcome back to the Eastern Shore, hugging my sister, and seeing Waterwood House have filled my heart to almost bursting with joy.

This day of drizzling rain finds me warm and comfortable at my sister Abigail’s home. I am grateful to settle into a soft bed. I sleep deeply and am recovering to my sister’s satisfaction. The trip from Philadelphia was arduous. My body feels bruised but the baby fared well. I pray this is so or all this effort will be for naught.

I remember the evening my dear husband first raised the idea that I should repair to Waterwood House and remain in my sister’s care until I am delivered. At first, I was shocked and offended. Did he not want to be encumbered with a pregnant wife? When I saw the tears in his eyes, I realized his concern was deep and true. At first, I pointed out that being in the care of a Philadelphia physician would help guarantee a successful birth and outcome.

When he finally admitted his true concern, I was shaken to my core. He expressed his growing fear that the unrest among the colonists may create some difficult times in the upcoming months, a time he wants me to be calm and quietly resting in anticipation of the birth of our first child.

I conveyed my fear for his safety, but he assured me that he will be fine seeing to his business interests.

If, for some reason, it became prudent for me to leave Philadelphia for a time, he did not want me to travel the roads in a more advanced condition, as summer heat or fall chill settled in.

Now that I have been fortified by good food and family love, I must look at the predicament I find myself in. I have discovered that real life will not allow me to dwell in freedom and camaraderie. I shall not be allowed to live in the magical world of my childhood. Real life will not let me. I have survived the trek from Philadelphia only to be shut up in an attic room. I am to be a prisoner.

As Edmund, my brother-in-law, explained the situation, it appears that resentment toward supporters of the King is rising here on the Shore. More than I had noticed in Philadelphia. The people here must feel free to express dislike and growing anger over the taxes on tea and other commodities. I asked what that had to do with me. Born and raised here, I am a daughter of the Shore. He waved away my comment. It felt like an accusation or condemnation when he said that did not matter anymore. I married a man who deals in British imports.

I wanted to cry. I didn’t marry British imports. I married Nathaniel for love.

I could not sway him or my sister. They want me to live in this attic room, rest for my own health and the baby’s and to stay here out of sight for my own safety.

This was not what I expected coming to Waterwood. I thought Abigail and I would take long walks through the woods and along the creeks. Edmund said we could do that, in secret and with an escort.

But I had hoped to go to meetings of a sewing circle so I could prepare clothing for the baby while enjoying local companionship. Edmund said that would be a terrible mistake.

I must limit my social contact to my sister and my maid.. Mr. Mercer has already left to return to Philadelphia. I will be denied a visit to Turner’s Point, the home where I grew up. I understand my mother is frail and being tended by a doctor in Easton, a hotbed of unrest. Somehow Abigail and Edmund are keeping the farm safe and operating for our brother.

My emotions are at war. One moment, I rail against the unfairness of it all, then I feel nurtured and protected. I am confused. Are my unsettled feelings created by the pregnancy or a sign of what is really happening in the world?

Time will tell. I shall sit in my attic chamber spinning wool for baby things and hope for a quick resolution.

I dearly hope this baby is a boy. He would bring such delight to Nathaniel and brighten our world as storm clouds seem to be gathering.

Priscilla ]]>

Priscilla's Diary Entry #6 - Coming Home

Susan Reiss — Sat, 13 Jun 2026 00:00:00 +0000

They say you can never go home again. After a torturous journey over land and water, Priscilla has Waterwood in sight…and her sister, Abigail is waiting with open arms.

Aboard a Boat
March 11, 1774

Dear Diary,

This morning, we sailed into Eastern Bay. It felt so good to linger on deck by the rail, listening to the gentle waves lapping against the wooden hull. There is something both soothing and restorative about the sounds of water when it is not whipped up by a torrent of angry winds. After a rest on Kent Island and now a leisurely sail, I am feeling quite myself again and eager to complete our voyage.

My eagerness grew as we entered the river leading us to Waterwood. Abigail had written to me that there was once a disagreement about calling it the Miles River. Originally, it was known as the St. Michaels River, named for the town on its shore. The people of a thriving Quaker community along the river were uncomfortable using the name saint because they do not have saints in their religion.

At first, an accommodation was reached by calling it the Michaels River. Considering the way people slur their words, especially when they speak too fast, the river was soon known as the Miles.

I do not know or care what other people call it. To me, it feels like home.

With the colonies agitated about taxes and tea, this disagreement seems trivial to me. Perhaps I need to learn to be more thoughtful and broadminded, especially in this time of upset and growing tumult. It would not hurt me to show patience and listen to the concerns of others.

Listening does not mean I agree or support their views. I would only give the appearance of politeness and tolerance. As Nathaniel is fond of saying, the role of a woman is to run the household, tend to the children, and support her husband, always. Even the law supports that view. When we married, it bothered me a bit that all of the things I brought into the marriage became the property of my husband, from the silver-backed hairbrush and tortoiseshell combs to the pillowcases and undergarments I embroidered in anticipation of my wedding.

It was a little unsettling to see the land my father had been holding in trust for me, signed over to Nathaniel along with the gold coins given to him. The only name on the land deeds and the accounts is his.

But I am being silly. What do I know about managing landholdings? I would be completely lost about guarding or investing money. Though I must admit, I am very good at spending it. One could say that makes a good balance to have a man and woman together.

Oh, I am making such lighthearted comments. It must be the fresh, clean scent of the air, the taste of ocean salt on my lips, and the sight of geese flying in their Vee formation, honking loudly without the intrusion of tall buildings.

I was eager to feel my sister’s arms around me again. I was coming to her home, not as a little sister, but as a married woman expecting a child.

Mr. Mercer fired off a volley that echoed across the land to announce our imminent landing. Seeing my sister running down to the dock, her auburn hair flying out of its pins, calling out my name, “Sissy! Sissy!” brought tears of happiness to my eyes. When she put her arms around me, my knees went weak, and I almost tumbled to the ground. As always, my big sister protected me and saved me. “Do not worry,” she said, “I have you, Sissy.”

It felt strange being called by that name again. Sissy.

I was named Priscilla when I was born, but, like so many families do, I was given a nickname almost at once. Sissy.

It was easier for the young children in the family to say. Forming the name ‘Priscilla’ has so many different sounds, one’s mouth does not know which direction to go first. It is the manifestation of being tongue-tied. When I was growing up, I thought it was cute. It is difficult to be mad at a pretty little girl named Sissy.

Of course, in Philadelphia, I am called Priscilla. Even Nathaniel started calling me Priscilla after the wedding. He said Sissy was a childhood name that should be put away with toys. He was right, of course. Now, I am a woman.

Still, there is a sense of well-being and security I feel being called by that name again.

Sissy.

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Priscilla's Diary Entry #5 - Journey to Waterwood

Susan Reiss — Wed, 10 Jun 2026 00:00:00 +0000

Aboard Ship
March 5, 1774

Dear Diary,
After the carriage ride out of the city to the wharf, being jostled around like rag dolls as I think we hit every rut and hole on the roads. I avoided going to my cabin because the air was fresh and spring-like on deck. After we cast off and left the wharf in our wake, I noticed dark clouds forming in the distance and we are sailing directly toward them.

Later…
I am taking a moment here in my small cabin to record the fact that I have left Philadelphia, made it to the wharf, and boarded the ship that will take me back to the Eastern Shore of the Chesapeake Bay. I prefer to be on deck where I can draw in that most special tang of sea salt in the air.

Mr. Mercer is with us. My husband assured me the man was quiet and dependable. He was right. He did an excellent job making sure that my trunks and cases were conveyed to the ship and stowed below. Eliza, my maid, has arranged things so that everything I will need for the voyage will be readily at hand. My thick wool cape and shawl, not meant for the streets of Philadelphia, are quite serviceable at keeping away the chill of being in the open air.

We will not be long on the water, I am sure. The captain assures me that the signs of good weather are present. That is a great relief.

Before we cast off (I am beginning to pick up the lingo of sailors), I stood at the rail and gazed east at the changing colors of the sky heralding the coming of dawn. It was romantic, almost poetic. If only our entire voyage could be like these quiet moments. The gentle rocking of the ship soothes me as I hope my baby will feel when it is time to go to sleep in my arms.

Oh, there is great commotion on deck. I hear the mad screeching of the gulls announcing our departure. We must be casting off.

Eliza has come to me in a dither, wanting to go up on deck. I will finish these last few lines then join her. Grateful for her company, I agreed for I should not sit here thinking what it means that we shall be under sail, remembering all I am leaving behind. I must think of this as an adventure to be relished and enjoyed.

A few hours later…

I would prefer to be on deck, but it started to rain. Eliza was fussing that I must not take cold. With no other choice since we have left the safety of a port, I have retired to my cabin. Here, I can feel the ship rocking. I look around this small space. Everything is wet. If it is not wet, it is damp. Water is seeping through the wood itself. Are we sinking?

DAY ?

A storm is upon us. Boat pitching. Ink spilled. Want to be on deck. Captain says no. High waves. Heavy rain. Strong winds.

The noise. Men’s boots overhead. Wood creaking. I am fearful and sick. My constant companion is bucket. The stench

Arrival at Kent Island
Day -- I know not.

Dear Diary,

I have been so weak from the battering of the storm, I could not lift the pen. I have lost count of the days. It was Eliza who nursed me through such a time of sickness. She will be such a help to me through my pregnancy and when my time comes.

I marvel that she was barely affected. Maybe it is because of her recent voyage to the Colonies from England. I could not have indentured myself as she has to pay for passage at her age. I am glad she is with us.

We have landed on Kent Island unexpectedly. The Captain thought it best for us to land here. There are reports of more storms coming. Mr. Mercer, my escort, agrees. He told me early spring storms are unpredictable and sometimes violent on the water. My head and stomach can attest to the truth of that statement. He has determined we shall rest here for a short time so I may recover my strength.

The afternoon was bright and calm. I walked along the shore and felt the Bay of my home strengthening me. I feel so free here, seeing the wispy white clouds floating across the grand dome of the sky all the way to the horizon. Here, there are no buildings to interrupt the view. The breeze is clearing away the smell of tar, wet rope, and the dampness everywhere. The sound of water lapping against the land and wood docks is chasing away the creaking of the ship and the snap of the sails. I thought if I did not die from seasickness, the boat would break apart and drown us all. Eliza took every movement of the boat, every crash of a wave in her stride.

I hope the calmness of today continues since Mr. Mercer has decided it would be best to complete our journey by boat. The roads here are rough and deeply rutted. I understand that traveling on the Eastern Shore is best done by boat as long as the weather does not forsake us.

We shall rest for another day then continue to Waterwood. In the meantime, the land of my birth shall fortify me.

Priscilla ]]>

Priscilla's Diary Entry #4 - I Leave Tomorrow

Susan Reiss — Sat, 6 Jun 2026 00:00:00 +0000

Nathaniel had decreed that Priscilla must leave Philadelphia, travel down the Chesapeake Bay by boat, and stay with her sister at Waterwood. He believes he is protecting her from growing anger and unrest that might threaten his wife. But he could be sending her into the center of a gathering storm.

Philadelphia
Colony of Pennsylvania
March 3, 1774
Late Afternoon

Dear Diary,

I leave tomorrow for Waterwood. It is still shocking to me that the time has come already. The days since Nathaniel made the decision have passed so quickly. I have been madly sorting and packing my clothes and personal things, then repacking everything.

I had persuaded myself that this would truly be a short visit away and there would be plenty of time to prepare for the baby’s arrival when I returned. When I mentioned my plan, it felt like an earthquake when he calmly told me to pack everything I would need for my confinement and to care for the baby after birth. He believes I will be away from him and our home for months and months.

I was not prepared for this news. The servants unpacked everything and started again. I wanted my maid to handle everything. I only wished to curl up in my bed. That was not to be. In every moment he could spare from his business, Nathaniel followed me around the house, making sure I had made all the purchases of things I would need and had them packed away into trunks. Yes, trunks. There are more trunks packed for this trip than there were when I first moved to Philadelphia.

It was sad to see my beautiful gowns and tea dresses placed in storage, but there is no place for them on the Eastern Shore. I will need practical country wear, as my dear friend Becky calls it. She has made sure that woolen gowns, a few day gowns, warm petticoats, and wool shawls are packed. Many of the simple gowns I had brought to Philadelphia will be packed in the trunks for my trip back. I have traded delicate shoes designed to stroll over city sidewalks for boots made for soil and mud. He locked my better jewelry in his safe.

Becky has been by my side every moment she could spare from her duties and obligations. Without her encouragement and support, I do not think I could have done all that was required. Yesterday, when she came to say goodbye, I told her that we could not write while I was away. It was one of the hardest things I have ever done. It broke my heart to see tears well up in her lovely blue-gray eyes. Trying to quell the sadness, I explained that my husband was worried that the growing hostile feelings against supporters of the King would spread to the families of British importers like him. He said, “No one could hurt me if they could not find me.”

I do not know if he realized how much it hurt, cutting me off from my dear friend. Still, I have the utmost trust in her. I whispered that if she wrote to my sister Abigail at Waterwood, the letter would find me. Could my sister be persuaded to let me write in response using her name? That is a question for the future.

The packing is done. Only a small case for toiletries, a brush, and personal items is left to be closed tomorrow morning. A portmanteau containing a simple wool gown, stockings, personal linen, and wraps for changing weather will be delivered to my cabin.

Now, I shall walk the rooms of my home and take my fondest memories of them with me: the formal staircase that I descended so recently to the delight of my husband; the main parlor decorated with fine European fabrics and furniture; my personal sitting room, an island of safety, meant for letter-writing and intimate conversations with my closest friend; and the elegant dining room with a graceful crystal chandelier lighting the fine oil paintings on the walls and the faces of those seated at its massive table. There will be no elegant dinner tonight. The table will be set for only two, my husband and me.

Tomorrow, in the hour of early dawn, I shall step into the carriage and be escorted to the wharf and onto a ship headed to the Chesapeake Bay and ultimately Waterwood. My escort shall be Mr. Mercer, a trusted man who works for Nathaniel. Oh, how I wish my husband was coming with me.

I must dry my eyes. It is not to be. I must make this trip on my own.

Priscilla

Excerpts from Priscilla's Diary will be posted every Wednesday and Saturday during the month of June.
They are part of the new Dual-Timeline novel, Divided in Time, a story of how the American Revolution came to be from a woman's perspective. ]]>

Priscilla's Diary Entry #3: It is 1774. Unrest is growing in the large cities of the American Colonies.

Susan Reiss — Wed, 3 Jun 2026 00:00:00 +0000

Philadelphia
Colony of Pennsylvania
February 20, 1774

Dear Diary,

What a relief it was that Becky came to me almost at once upon receiving my note. Safe in her private company, I could cry and try to make sense of what was happening. She offered me the comfort and benefit of her counsel and understanding.

When Nathaniel made his big announcement that shook me to my core, I had to hide my feelings. I was to leave Philadelphia and stay with my sister Abigail at Waterwood House on the Maryland Eastern Shore of the Chesapeake Bay. I asked why he had made this decision, of course without screams or tears. He said it was in my own best interest. There was unrest in the City because of a few hotheads. He didn’t want me to become concerned. After all, he said, we must think of the baby. He acted as if I barely gave a thought to my delicate condition. That was untrue and unfair. I think of my child all the time.

I ventured to ask if he was concerned because his import business was tied to British goods like tea. Riled, he wanted to know why I would think of such a thing. I tried to explain that one only had to leave the house to hear the newspaper sellers calling out the headlines or to take tea in the finer homes of the City to hear of such things.

He said my heightened curiosity had already exposed me to things that should not concern me. He is concerned that my nervous reactions to things I do not understand might harm the baby. One simple question had made him adamant that I should leave. He would not hear another word. He will make all the travel arrangements. I am to supervise the packing and to make arrangements for the household to function while I am away. He would not answer when I asked how long that would be. I am to travel with my maid, Eliza. She is a good girl from the English countryside and will stay by me. Our escort will be Mr. Mercer, a trusted employee of his firm.

As he walked away, I stood in the hall, shaking. I could only calm myself by thinking that the stress inflicted on me by staying in the City would be worse than this trip across the Bay. I kept telling myself Nathaniel is only thinking of me and the baby.

Becky’s visit helped calm me, but then her brow furrowed. I pressed her to tell me what was wrong. She waved off my concern but finally admitted that she was beginning to notice things changing, little things. At a tea party of a friend, she saw a woman accept a cup of tea served by a maid. She moved aside as if inspecting a shelf of books. The woman looked at the tea in her cup for the longest while then she put it down and walked away. I suggested she was not thirsty. Becky shook her head so hard her curls bounced which made me laugh. But Becky was serious. She said if the woman was a member of society and a true British subject, she would have known it was rude to accept a cup of tea then leave it on a table, untouched.

She leaned closer and spoke of signs being pasted on walls near a shop offering British imports and was owned by a man loyal to the King. She said some people refused to enter his shop. The signs were quickly torn down.

Is that why my husband is so concerned about my safety? Does he fear for his business? I know he will not confide in me. He sees himself as my protector.

Isn’t it the same with the King? We are his children. When we please him, he cares and protects us. When we go against his wishes, he is right to treat us as naughty offspring. If only these rebellious souls would come to their senses. I hope it is soon because until they do, I will not be allowed to come home.

Priscilla ]]>

Priscilla's Diary Entry #2: They Will Never Give Up Their Tea

Susan Reiss — Sun, 31 May 2026 00:00:00 +0000

1774 - Life for the Society women of Philadelphia is proceeding elegantly, but unrest is beginning to shake the windowpanes of their fine homes.

Philadelphia, Colony of Pennsylvania
February 18, 1774

Dear Diary,

I woke up this morning fully refreshed though I did not have a full night’s sleep. I must still be flying on the excitement of the ball last night. My maid left my beautiful gown hanging in my dressing room. I smiled at the memory of Mrs. Alden’s comment about its fashionable sleeves. It was truly the most magical of nights! I wanted to put it on again and twirl around the house. But I dared not.

I must moderate my behavior so Nathaniel does not get the false impression that I am not taking care of my body and the baby growing within. Surely, a baby must thrive when the mother is happy. I must be careful, so he does not forbid me to attend Mrs. Ellsworth’s tea this afternoon. I received an invitation which I treasure because it opens the door to a fine group of society ladies and all the latest gossip of the City including last night’s ball.

I know I have Rebecca Ashford to thank for the invitation to tea. Becky, as I call her in private, has become a great friend. Nathaniel believes I should wait to share the news of my pregnancy with anyone. Secretly, I fear he is thinking I will fail in my duty and not present him with a child, preferably an heir.

I feel so much better after sharing my disquiet with this page, Diary. Now, I must rest.

Later that evening

Mrs. Ellsworth’s tea was everything I had hoped it would be. Everyone was dressed in their finest afternoon tea gowns. Not as ornate as last night’s ball gowns but quite fine. I opted to wear my sapphire blue silk trimmed with delicate ecru lace. The silver candlesticks and table settings gleamed in the bright light of day. Our hostess proudly displayed her new Wedgwood tea service. The delicate blue pattern on the cups and saucers was quite agreeable.

Nathaniel told me he had recently acquired the fine set for her through one of his English contacts. I did not mention it so he would not be thought of as a simple shopkeeper. Nathaniel is a respected and successful merchant and English importer. Our invitations last night and this afternoon show that together we are taking our place in Philadelphia society.

At the tea, Becky and I were careful to greet other ladies and engage in random conversations about the decorations and food, who danced with whom, and who was seen engaged in intimate conversation, before we could slip to a corner and put our heads together.

Poor Becky, she had to stifle a squeal of delight when she heard my news. She is such a dear friend, much valued in a city where I know almost no one. We were talking in whispers when the raised voices of ladies in the room drew our attention.

One lady said she applauded Mrs. Ellsworth for serving real British tea. Another piped up that people were upset about the tax on tea. Mrs. Ellsworth herself joined the conversation saying that the tax was of no concern to us, openly suggesting that the pittance should not threaten our financial stability. Her unspoken comment was obvious: If the pittance or one’s loyalty to the King was of concern to anyone in attendance, that woman did not belong at this tea party.

Another woman, recently from London, declared, “They will never give up their tea.” Everyone laughed lightly in agreement.

On the way home, I shut out the noise of this bustling city to savor the details of my social visit. Then a boy’s strident voice outside my carriage intruded on my thoughts. He was calling out, “Boycott Tea! Read about it in…”

I placed my hand lightly upon the child growing within me and wondered, What kind of world am I bringing a child into? Then I smiled, thinking of Nathaniel’s love and protection surrounding me. My child will live in My World.

Priscilla

Excerpts from Priscilla's Diary will be posted every Wednesday and Saturday during the month of June. They are part of the new Dual-Timeline novel, Divided in Time, a story of how the American Revolution came to be from a woman's perspective. ]]>

Priscilla's Diary Entry #1 - My Big Step into Society - The Ball

Susan Reiss — Sat, 30 May 2026 00:00:00 +0000

Priscilla Turner Galloway has left the Eastern Shore of the Chesapeake Bay to join her husband in Philadelphia. He expects her to enhance their role in the City's society that follows the rigid customs of London. As a young bride in a new place, she confides her hopes and fears in her diary. This is her first entry in her new book.

Philadelphia, Colony of Pennsylvania February 17, 1774

Dear Diary,
I am absolutely quivering with the excitement of the evening. Everyone spoke of Mrs. Fairchild’s upcoming ball as the event to the season. Tonight, it exceeded my wildest expectations.

When Nathaniel sent word to my dressing room that it was time for us to depart for the ball, I took my time and floated down our main staircase. I had practiced the movement over the past few days whenever he was not at home. Tonight, seeing the look of adoration on his face, I knew that I had achieved the effect I wanted.

When he proposed marriage, he had declared his undying love that had grown from the time we were children, growing up on the Eastern Shore of the Bay. I accepted him in an instant, for my heart was his since those childhood days. It was only later that became concerned how I would fare among the polished ladies of Philadelphia society, many of them from London. I have committed myself to learning the latest in fashion, entertaining and social expectations of a lady.

Tonight, he looked most dashing in his new evening suit. As I slowly descended the stairs, I had the confidence of knowing that my gown of pale sky-blue silk highlighted my blue eyes and was the greatest compliment to my crown of rich chestnut brown hair arranged in a soft updo with delicate curls framing my face. I had seen it when I looked in my cheval mirror, and then I saw it in the eyes of my husband.

I felt a flutter when we arrived at the home of our hostess. Every window was filled with light, and the front walkway was ablaze with light against the cold darkness of winter. As we promenaded to the front door in order to be announced properly, I held tightly to Nathaniel’s arm so I could stifle a giggle.

It was a magical night. Could it be that I have begun to find my place in Philadelphia? Have I earned my place next to my husband in the eyes of the lady of its society? I feel a growing surety that I have.

Now I must claim my night’s sleep for tomorrow the social whirlwind continues with calls to be made and the required exchange of comment and gossip about the ball. Good night, sweet world of mine.

During the month of June, new excerpts will be posted on Wednesdays and Saturdays.

Priscilla is a key character in the new dual timeline novel Divided in Time - The Revolution is Coming
Release Date: July 22, 2026

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Priscilla's Diary Opens Tomorrow!

Susan Reiss — Fri, 29 May 2026 00:00:00 +0000

It is 1774.

Priscilla Turner Galloway leaves the Eastern Shore of the Chesapeake Bay to join her husband in Philadelphia where

... people are angry about tea and taxes

... the local society, shaped by British customs and expectations, is difficult to navigate

... her husband expects her to make a place for them

... while she feels very alone.

As a comfort, she confides in her diary about her triumphs, her confusion, and her fears.

Follow Priscilla's journey as new diary entries appear every Wednesday and Saturday beginning May 30th.

Priscilla is a new character in my new novel, Divided in Time, coming July 5th.

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Priscilla's Diary Entry #3 - 1774: Gossip, Tea, and Nathaniel's Decision

Susan Reiss — Sun, 3 May 2026 00:00:00 +0000

As Priscilla writes in her diary, life is becoming a whirlwind of parties, gorgeous gowns, and fancy foods. But a change in the atmosphere, one of anger and unrest, can change the life of a young woman entering the City’s high society in a moment.

Philadelphia
Colony of Pennsylvania
February 20, 1774

Dear Diary,

Is that why my husband is so concerned about my safety? Does he fear for his business? I know he will not confide in me. He sees himself as my protector.

Priscilla

Excerpts from Priscilla's Diary will be posted every Wednesday and Saturday during the month of June.

They are part of the new Dual-Timeline novel, Divided in Time, a story of how the American Revolution came to be from a woman's perspective.

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