CHAPTER 1

REAL POWER IS FEMALE

CHAPTER 1

Noon, May 16, 1811, Annapolis, Maryland

In a tavern full of Maryland’s political elite, a young woman with a ponytail is the sharpest mind in the room

A well-dressed, elderly gentleman with well-kept white hair paused as the counter-weighted heavy door closed behind him with a soft clunk, insulating customers and staff of the tavern from the cacophony of the Annapolis streets. The man’s fair complexion, sharp clear eyes, and elegantly distinctive facial features presented a noble countenance.

All conversation and clatter immediately ceased as every patron raised their tankard toward the noble gentleman. A smile and nod from him permitted them to re-engage in their gregarious banter. Rumbling, clinking, clanking, and humming of the tavern returned to its normal volume as the gentleman, with the aid of an ornate cane, proceeded to the corner table reserved for him and quietly took his seat.

Penny Rollings’ emerald green eyes peered from the kitchen door, serving tray in hand. She acknowledged the nod from her father standing at the bar and turned to her mother in the kitchen. “Mister Carroll is here.”

“Sometimes, I can’t tell who is denser. You or your father.” Margaret Rollings’s eyes matched those of her daughter, as did her copper hair, save for the well-earned streaks of gray. “Even my scullery staff know Charles Carroll is the only man in the state who can silence a busy tavern the second he steps through the door.”

The dark faces busy at the kitchen prep tables nodded and murmured in agreement while the pings, clatters, and thunks of their work reached a crescendo.

Penny flashed her eyes at her father, then at her mother. “Father would scold me if I didn’t tell you. And you scold me when I do.”

Margaret’s arms crossed over her chest. “And? What’s changed in the three years you’ve been working?”

Penny simply stared right back at her. Nothing. Nothing at all has changed!

“Well, if you are just going to stand there, make yourself useful and fan that door a few times.”

Penny stuck her tongue out at her mother, but did as she was told and fanned the door, forcing the sumptuous kitchen aromas throughout the tavern.

Margaret glared at her daughter, then called over her shoulder to the dark angelic face by the stove. “Is that soup ready, Bonita?”

The petite Haitian woman’s face lit up. “Oui madanm. Soup krab Madame Paca-la pare. Li santi bon anpil!”

Margaret scrunched her nose. “English, Bonita!”

With a big smile, Penny walked straight past her mother to Bonita’s station. “Mesye Carroll pral kontan konnen ou fè soup la, Bonita! Li toujou di menm bagay la sou chak soup ou fè!”

Bonita clapped her hands and hopped. “Mèsi, Madmwazèl Penny!”

Margaret’s jaw dropped to the floor as she watched her daughter place the tureen of cream of crab soup on her tray. “When did you learn that?”

“Every morning before you and Father get here.” Penny grinned from ear to ear and brushed by her startled mother on her way to Mister Carroll’s table.

Margaret struggled to hide a smile. That girl’s mind is lightning quick.

Once past her mother, Penny stopped suddenly and looked back at Bonita. “Èske ou ta renmen rankontre Mesye Carroll?”

“Oui!” Bonita skipped to Penny, and they both made their way to Mister Carroll’s table.

A young blonde server filled the elder gentleman’s goblet with cool water, smiled politely, and scurried off to a table full of young lawyers. There, she immediately became less refined and more flirtatious, effectively enticing them to do the same.

Penny shook her head and sighed as she approached. “Mister Carroll, I’m so sorry. Marci is not usually so abrupt.”

The distinguished gentleman chuckled and dismissed the apology with a wave. “Not at all Miss Rollings. She is adept with artful charms and the young gentlemen are obtuse to her purpose. Their pockets will be much lighter when they leave here than they anticipated.”

Penny shot a sideways glance at Marci. “I’m not much of a charmer, Mister Carroll.”

He nodded slowly and emphatically. Then raised his piercing gaze to meet hers. “Quite correct, Miss Rollings. You are far superior.” His tone sharpened his words. “Blessed with keen intellect, deep insight, and near infinite capacity for wisdom and compassion, you have already determined your quarry to be nothing less than your equal and bear qualities complementing your own.” The gentleman’s face broke into a smile. “Thus ends this day’s lesson. Kindly take it to heart.”

It took a moment for Penny to realize her mouth hung open and another moment to close it and take a breath. “Yes, sir. Um.”

She sat her tray on the table, lifted the lid from the tureen, reached for the ladle, and nodded to the young Haitian cook. “Bonita used Mrs. Paca’s recipe to make a very special cream of crab soup.”

Charles Carroll drew a deep breath and gently pulled the succulent aroma in through his nose. His sharp features softened and a wistful gleam set in his eyes as he carefully sampled Bonita’s dish. “Young lady. You honor my friend’s creation with obvious skill and dedication to your craft. I am grateful.”

Bonita’s eyes shot wide open. She covered her mouth and looked anxiously at Penny.

Penny smiled back at her and nodded emphatically. “Oui! Bonita! Oui!”

The young Haitian yelped, jumped, and turned back to Carroll. Her face beamed with pride. “Mèsi anpil, Mèsié Carroll! Ou fè kè m plen ak jwa! Se ak tout lanmou mwen fè soup sa a, men se Bondye ki mete tout bon gou a!”

Penny leaned over and whispered in Carroll’s ear. “She says, Thank you very much, Mister Carroll! You fill my heart with joy! I made this soup with all my love, but it is God who put all the good flavor in it!”

The old gentleman playfully shot an annoyed look at Penny. “Harumph!”

Then he looked directly at Bonita. “Dieu vous a donné un don précieux, et vous l’honorez magnifiquement. Continuez ainsi, et vous ferez la joie de bien des âmes.”

Bonita squealed with delight, clapped her hands, and ran back to the kitchen.

Charles Carroll gave a mirthful look to Penny. “I told her God has given you a precious gift, and you honor it magnificently. Continue in this way, and you will bring joy to many souls.”

Penny felt the warmth flush her cheeks. “Forgive me, please.”

The old gentleman chuckled gleefully. “None necessary. Beyond that, you have proven my earlier point.”

“I did?”

“It is quite obvious you made it your business to learn French-Creole. That is not a lesser ability.”

Penny scrunched up her face. “What does that have to do with the quarry I am supposedly pursuing?”

The old patriot waggled a weathered finger at her. “Not pursuing, Miss Rollings. Hunting.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “I am certainly not hunting a beau, Mister Carroll.”

“I will yield on one point of contention.” His eyes twinkled brightly. “You do not stalk, track, or chase. However, Miss Rollings, you are the tigress who lies in wait, watching and evaluating your quarry for the attributes you require.”

Her right toe tapped the floor and an emerald fire flickered in her eyes. “Your obsession with my lack of social life seems undignified for a man of your stature, Mister Carroll.”

“Forgive him, Miss Rollings. My friend is purely obsessed with your entire generation.”

Both heads turned toward the source of the baritone voice, an equally distinguished but far more physically imposing older gentleman.

He pulled on a chair and paused. “Miss Rollings? I do hope you have more of that delightfully aromatic soup.”

Penny cocked her head. “Of course, Senator Smith. Or is it General Smith today?”

“Which would you prefer?”

“The one with the deepest pockets.” Penny grinned, turned on her heel, and headed for the kitchen.

Both men chuckled. “So, what brings the president pro tempore of the Senate and hero of the Revolution to Annapolis, Samuel?”

“Boredom.” Smith shrugged and drank from the water goblet Marci just left on the table.

He winked at Marci. “And the taverns are far better here.” Then turned back to Carroll. “Why is it that three of Maryland’s signers of the Declaration are hobbyist matchmakers? You, Sam Chase, and Will Paca, God rest his soul.”

Charles Carroll leaned back in his chair, steepled his fingers, and regarded Smith for several moments. “My dear friend, do you not think a vested interest in the next generation merits some obsession with the futures of its most promising?”

Penny arrived with another tureen of soup. “Here you go, Senator.”

“Thank you, Miss Rollings. Perhaps a suitable complimentary beverage for such a Maryland dish?”

Penny beamed. “Of course. Maryland Rye for both of you?”

Carroll piped up. “Perhaps integrated in a way to enhance its gentlemanly appeal?”

“Mint juleps made with Maryland Rye whiskey coming right up!”

Smith’s face lit up. “Splendid! Let the Kentuckians enjoy their bourbon juleps while we Marylanders enhance them with our rye.”

Penny wheeled around and trotted up to her father behind the bar. Before she could relay the request, the heavy oak door burst open with a loud bang against the brick wall, immediately silencing the entire tavern again. Two women entered, stood, and surveyed the room as the door thunked closed behind them.

A sky-blue regency dress gracefully adorned the youngish woman with wispy blonde hair tied in a bun and tendrils falling down her cheeks. The other, a striking brunette in a scandalously bright violet dress, quickly sighted their stunned quarry and strode directly toward the table of Smith and Carroll.

Eyes rapidly widening, Penny looked at her father. “Oh, dear.”

Mister Rollings nodded. “Indeed.” Placed the two mint juleps on her tray, raised a finger, and quickly made two more. “Wait for them to sit, then take these on over.”

Penny scrunched up her face and watched.

Charles Carroll saw the women first. “Prepare yourself, Samuel. These two always mean business.”

Smith sighed. “I know that all too well.” He stood and faced the women.

The brunette spoke first. “What’s taking so long, Senator?”

The blonde chimed in. “The President signed that bill back in February! It’s now May. Where is our hospital? Our husbands keep telling you war is coming. Don’t you think hospitals should be a priority?”

Carroll rapped his cane against the floor. “Ladies. Please. Decorum.” He motioned for them to be seated.

The blonde grasped her friend’s arm and nodded. The brunette sighed, pursed her lips and sat down. Penny soon arrived and served the drinks.

Smith tactfully mouthed the words, “Bless you” to Penny as the brunette received hers.

Penny smiled, tucked her tray under her arm, and prepared for her escape.

Carroll was quick to thwart that attempt. “Miss Rollings, allow me to introduce you to two women who remind me of you.”

Penny pulled the tray against her chest and curtsied. “Of course, Mister Carroll.”

The brunette raised a finger and sampled her mint julep. With a big smile, she turned in her seat and blew a kiss to Penny’s father, now frozen behind the bar. “This is a perfect julep for a lady! You must show me how to make it so I can surprise Stephen.”

Penny watched her father’s face turn several shades of red and quickly busy himself wiping down the bar.

“You are Penny Rollings, correct?” The brunette’s warm smile mercifully put Penny at ease. “I am Susan Decatur. My husband is Stephen. And this is Minerva Rodgers. She’s married to John.”

Appreciative murmurs rose from surrounding patrons, then faded into the hum of the tavern.

Penny’s eyes shifted quickly from Susan to Minerva and back again. “Commodore Decatur and Commodore Rodgers? The national heroes?” Her nose scrunched. “Yes, I am Penny. How did you . . . ?”

Minerva winked. “Officers’ wives are skilled listeners. Sailors talk all the time.”

Susan interjected. “Penny. Tell us what you think about it being over three months since Congress and the President authorized the building of naval hospitals and not a shovel full of dirt turned?”

Penny glanced at a sheepish Senator Smith. “Not a one?”

Minerva emphatically shook her head. “Not a single one.”

“Well, that’s truly appalling.”

Susan’s fingers rapped on the tabletop. “Quite right, Penny! Quite right.”

Stone-faced, Smith looked up. “Women can’t vote.”

Penny held the Senator’s gaze. “We can change that.”

Minerva raised her glass to Penny. “You’re one of us!”

Susan caught Smith draining his julep in one gulp. “Penny. I believe the senator needs a refill.”

Eyes twinkling, Charles Carroll lifted his nearly empty julep glass. “Please, Miss Rollings. Listening to the esteemed President Pro Tempore of the Senate, Revolutionary War hero, and General of the Maryland Militia being outwitted and outplayed by women generates a good deal of thirst.”

“Piffle, Charles.” Smith arched a brow. “Your economy of words is awe-inspiring.”

Penny caught the look in Susan’s eyes and quickly departed for the bar and the juleps. She watched her father cringe as he set the fresh drink on her tray and took her time returning to the table.

Without looking, Susan beckoned Penny with a wagging finger. “My dear, please note the effort powerful men will make in vain attempts to distract and divert a woman’s attention from the genuine issue at hand.”

Carroll sighed. “Dearie me. Pray, tell us what issue is at hand?”

Minerva coughed. “Thou shalt not tempt a Decatur, Mister Carroll. Penny, he will need that julep.”

Penny took a deep breath, mustered all of her professionalism and served Carroll’s julep. “Father told me this is more rye than julep.”

Carroll frowned and nodded. “I see from whom you received your gift of insight.”

After a fresh draught, he smiled at Susan. “Go on then. This will be a good story to tell my daughter when she comes down from Baltimore later this week.”

Susan beamed. “Kitty is coming down?! Wonderful!”

She looked up at Penny. “Kitty and I went to school together in Baltimore.” Susan stopped and slowly turned to Carroll. “You almost had me, sir. Almost!”

Carroll pulled his fist up to his mouth and tried to hide a snicker.

“Hospitals, Mister Carroll.” Susan drank her own julep straight down. “Over three months since the president signed it into law, and still no hospital.”

“Excuse me.”

All four heads at the table turned toward Penny.

“Um.” Penny pulled her tray tight against her chest and kept her gaze focused on the women. “I think we’re missing something else.”

Minerva Rodgers cocked her head and arched a brow. “You have my attention, Penny. Do go ahead.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Penny shifted her feet. “I think Mister Carroll is leading us in a lesson on persistence. And I think he means it as encouragement to challenge anything and everything that presumes to limit us.”

Sam Smith shot a look at Carroll. “There are times, my friend, that I believe you to be the devil incarnate. This is one of those.”

The old gentleman nodded. “As there are times when the delivery of an important lesson requires the implementation of stealth and deception.”

He gave Penny a warm smile. “Once again, you have proven my evaluation of your intellect to be quite accurate.”

Minerva and Susan looked at each other, then at Penny, and again at each other. Susan leaned back in her and lifted her empty julep glass to Penny. “Welcome to our noble cause.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Decatur.” Penny put the empty glass on her tray. “I hope both of you will join in my cause.”

“Of course.” Minerva Rodgers handed Penny her empty glass. “What is your cause, dear?”

Penny shot a look at Carroll. “My cause is an education better than any man.” Then headed toward her father for the refills.

Minerva looked sharply at Carroll. “You’re a founder of St. John’s College. You and Mister Paca, correct?”

Carroll nodded, but raised two weathered fingers. “Yes. But to your point. While it would be expedient for me to sponsor her admission, it would do nothing for the cause of admitting capable women to colleges elsewhere in this country. Miss Rollings must persist in her pursuit of her education, certainly must be relentless in sharpening her mind on her own, and resilient enough to overcome a host of adversities along the way.”

Susan smiled at Penny’s return. “Well, she has two powerful allies now.”

Minerva held Carroll’s gaze. “And two more when our husbands return from sea duty. If John Rodgers and Stephen Decatur had their way, education should be sought by all. John would tell you the survival of the country depends on it.”

Charles Carroll steepled his fingers under his chin. “Their words carry the weight of duty, honor, and courage in service to our country. But, as they would also tell us, perseverance is necessary for victory. Therefore, Miss Rollings, in pursuit of her education, is welcome to any book in my library.”

“Thank you, Mister Carroll.” Minerva exchanged a glance with Susan, and both stood.

“Good day, gentlemen.”

Smith and Carroll both stood and bowed. “Ladies.”

The women paused by the bar on either side of Penny, sliding their arms through hers.

Penny looked quickly at each. “Mrs. Rodgers? Mrs. Decatur? Is there something I can do for you?”

“It is what we can do for you, dear.” Susan patted her arm and grinned at her father. “May we have her for the day, Mister Rollings?”

Penny’s head snapped around to each. “What? Why?”

Mister Rollings pursed his lips. “You’ll have to ask her mother.”

Minerva nodded, released Penny’s arm, and curtsied. “Very well.” She strolled behind the bar just as Margaret Rollings exited the kitchen. “Mrs. Rollings? Susan and I would like to take Penny dress shopping for the summer party season.”

Margaret hesitated for a moment, shot a glare at her husband and daughter. “Of course, Mrs. Rodgers. But Penny will help me in the kitchen for most of those parties.”

“It’s Minerva, and not to worry. Susan and I will help when we can.”

Mrs. Rollings shot another glare at her husband and daughter. “Margaret. And may I ask why?”

Minerva flashed her the brightest smile. “My husband prepares young men to be officers and gentlemen. Susan and I feel it’s only fair that we prepare young women to be the ladies who lead them.” She leaned in close to Margaret and whispered. “Without the gentlemen knowing it.”

Margaret nodded to Minerva and Penny, then laughed at her husband’s bewilderment.