The Washington Heir

By Andrew Mills

“It is not as if someone could get hurt for telling a story.”

History records gardener was fired from Mount Vernon in the early 19th century. Disgruntled by his release, the gardener returned to the estate, broke into the tomb of George Washington, and stole a skull he claimed belonged to the most famous American of all time. The skull was quickly recovered by the family and the gardener disappeared from history altogether. No arrests were made and no trial was convened for the theft. The question remains…why?

When Cam Mercer goes to the birthday celebration of George Washington being held at Mount Vernon, he expects the night to be just the usual sort of formal party held at any historic location. Instead, a guest makes the unbelievable claim of being the descendant of George Washington’s illegitimate child. However, when this very same guest is found dead on the estate property near the tomb of Washington, Cam finds himself drawn into a family mystery which relies on him to team up with his famed ancestor, the first private detective in America, Archibald Mercer. Through the years and generations which separate these two men, both Mercers will come to learn truths they never could have imagined. Together, they must join forces and solve the incredible mystery of….the Washington heir

• Language: English
• Publisher: Andrew Mills
• Release date: Jan 18, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386861294

Book preview

Prologue

June 20, 1773

Archibald Mercer was a man in love.  He had never felt anything like it before in his life.  He had heard people talk about it as if it were something that was impossible to find.  He remembered his mother telling him stories about women falling in love with brave men.  For him, love was really something meant for stories and nothing else.  Now he was riding on his horse to the home of his love, wanting to ask for her hand in marriage.  Everything really did feel like it was coming out of a story book.

Her name was Martha, Martha Parke Custis, but she told him to call her Patsy.  Her mother’s name was almost the same as hers, but as a child she had gone by the nickname and it had always remained.  She was the daughter of Daniel Parke Custis, once one of the wealthiest land owners in Virginia.  When he died, he left an estate without a proper will.  As a result, his widow had to take control of the estate.  With this newfound wealth, her mother had been courted by many men who wanted to enrich themselves with her money. 

In the end, Patsy’s mother accepted the marriage proposal of George Washington.  With his marriage to Martha Custis the elder, Washington was put in charge of the Custis estate until such time as the surviving son, John Parke, came of age to inherit the property and Patsy was to be married.  Her share of the estate would come as a dowry to the marriage. 

The thought of the tall planter made Archibald’s stomach turn.  He knew Washington.  They had crossed paths before and it had not gone well.  In some ways Archibald feared the most famous man in Virginia.  In other ways, he admired him.  Archibald could not understand how it was that he felt like that, but now he would have to cross Washington on a new issue.

Archibald was the son of a simple farmer in Augusta County.  He did not own any property, rented a room in Alexandria, and only had a small amount of money.  Well, publicly he only had a small amount of money.  He did not want to let people know about the source of his real wealth.  If they knew, it would only lead to trouble for both him and his brother.

For all of his faults, Archibald knew his strength could be found in his ambition.  He planned on buying land in the west.  Ohio was ripe for settlement.  Any man willing to go west and work hard could build a true home and make himself into something great with enough time, money, and influence.  The first two he had, the third could be bought, but if he could convince George Washington to let him marry Patsy, then the influence would come from him.

The two had met in Alexandria the previous year.  Washington had brought his family into town for the day for shopping and conducting business.  Archibald was working in a warehouse, learning the trade of shipping.  He was going over the account ledgers and was noticing the numbers were not adding up.  The book keepers in England were trying to take some of the profits from the Americans and keep it for themselves.  It was nothing new, but Archibald knew he had to report it. 

As he made his way over to the office of Josiah Bennett, his employer, Mercer found himself in front of Patsy Custis.  He froze where he stood as he gazed at her.  Her warm smile was complimented by the slight blush of her cheeks.  Her eyes were round and full of life.  Her dark hair was neatly pinned up, allowing him to see the full length of her neck.  He had never gazed upon any woman such as this.  He could not remember if he had said anything to her that day. 

Anytime he had heard a rumor of the Washington family coming to Alexandria, he tried to find out where they were so he could steal a glance of Patsy.  Their first conversation ended with her saying, If you stammer as much you do, then we will never be able to know much about each other.

The next time he met her, he calmed himself.  They had talked for as long as they could.  Archibald was not sure if he had been seen by Washington himself, but he was fairly confident Patsy’s mother did see them.  Mrs. Washington and Patsy would frequent Alexandria and letters between the two young people were quietly passed.  Each shared their dreams and aspirations. 

They also shared their greatest fears and worries.  Archibald learned about Patsy’s fits and how they had plagued her.  When she had first said that the two could never hope to be happy, he had assured her they would be fine.  Fate would test them.  On one of her visits, Patsy had a fit.  She shook uncontrollably, foam beginning to escape from her mouth.  Archibald held her close and tried to soothe her back from the fit.  He had never seen one before and did not know what to do.

The soothing seemed to work as she calmed herself and came out of it.  He held her as she wept.  God will not let us be together, she cried. 

He brought you back to me, replied Archibald soothingly.  I will take care of you and protect you.  If we must live near the healing springs in Berkley, we will live there.

Patsy had smiled and allowed herself to be held closer.  It was the first time they had kissed...and the last.  Patsy had said she was a lady.  It had been improper for her to do that.  It was then that Archibald had asked her to marry him.  He gave her reason after reason to say yes, but she knew while her consent was one thing, he needed to ask her father.

Your father is dead, said Archibald.  What about your mother?

You know who I mean, said Patsy.

Archibald sighed.  You know he does not like me.

He will come to, replied Patsy.  Come to the house next week.  I will begin to prepare papa and when you arrive we will tell him together.

What day? asked Archibald, feeling the excitement in his heart build up.

The twentieth, answered Patsy.  Eleanor Calvert, my brother’s fiancé, will be there.

With the date set, Archibald immediately went to work on making himself look like a proper gentleman.  He bought new breeches, waistcoat, shirt, coat, stockings, boots and a horse.  He needed to make sure the purchases were not grand, or else face the scrutiny of how he came about all of the money.  His brother, Smith Mercer, had put on his best clothes to make the journey to Mount Vernon with Archibald.

The day finally arrived and the two set off around midday from Alexandria towards Mount Vernon.  If Archibald was correct with his calculations, both he and his brother would arrive at the estate almost an hour before dinner.  If all went well, they would have their first of what would hopefully become many dinners at the house. 

Archibald sat on his horse, with his brown breeches, blue waistcoat, and brown frock coat, checking them every so often to make sure no specks of dirt or mud got onto it.  His black boots were shined and his brown hair was pulled back smartly.  If anyone did not know who he was, he looked like a gentleman.  Where Archibald was straight and lean, Smith was round and beefy.  Smith’s clothes were slightly tight on him, but he did not care in the least.  The two brothers were completely different, but their differences made them the perfect pair to work together.  If ever there was a person Archibald needed in a situation where he wasn’t sure of the outcome, then Smith Mercer was the person he needed.

What if he says no? asked Smith.

He won’t, answered Archibald.

How can you be so sure?

Patsy will convince him, replied Archibald confidently. 

***

As the two brothers crested the hill they looked upon Mount Vernon.  There stood the house of the famed George Washington.  The center road led to the house, flanked on either side by square gardens.  The home seemed off center with the main entrance in the middle and a new southern wing being added to the house.  Washington was expanding his home to create a private wing for himself and his wife.  Rumor had it he was going to build a matching wing on the north side after the southern wing was completed.  Even the exterior work buildings were being moved to ensure guests would receive an unimpeded view of the house.

Now that, said Archibald, is going to be an impressive house.

A little much if you ask me, replied Smith smugly.

You have no sense of class, retorted Archibald.

And you do?

I will, said Archibald with a smile.

The two rode up the lane to the circle in front of the house and went around it to the front door.  Archibald dismounted and tossed the reins to his brother.  Stay here.

Smith nodded as he watched his brother walk up the steps to the large, wooden door of the house.  Archibald took a deep breath.  This was it.  This was the moment.  He reached up for the knocker and paused.  The moment he made his presence known his life would change forever.  Why couldn’t he move his arm?  He was frozen in terror.

Just knock already, hissed Smith.

The terror temporarily broken from his mind, Archibald gave three strong knocks with the knocker.  Standing erect and with as much confidence in himself as he could muster, the young, would be gentleman waited for the door to open.  When it did, he was face to face with the butler. 

May I help you? asked the butler.  It did not feel like the man was asking so much as he was demanding.  Archibald knew first impressions were everything.

I am here to see Colonel Washington, answered Archibald with a slight break in his voice.

The Colonel is not inclined to see visitors at this time, said the butler, who promptly began to shut the door.

Archibald was not about to be told to leave by a slave.  Reaching his hand out to prevent the large wooden door from being shut on him, Archibald said, I was invited here to meet with Colonel Washington by Miss Custis.

Upon hearing the name, the butler notably paused and said, One moment. He closed the door and left Archibald outside in the hot, June sun.  Looking back at Smith, Archibald furrowed his brow and shook his head.  Smith did not know what to say and gave a befuddled look.

The door opened again.  The butler stood at the entrance and said, Follow me.

Archibald entered the house and removed his hat.  He was directed to the first room to the left.  As he entered, Archibald was taken aback by the rich cream color on the walls.  He had never seen a paint like this before in his life.  He had to be in the most formal room of the house.  The furniture was of a quality he had heard of, but never imagined he would see.  On the wall next to the fire place was a portrait of a young woman.  It had to be Mrs. Washington.  Next to it was a painting of two small children.  Were they Patsy and her brother?  It had to be.  Why else would the portrait be here?  The table in the middle of the room had a soft, green felt fabric on it.  The finely crafted chairs surrounding the table had to have been worth more than all the money Archibald had made in Alexandria over the past year.

As he circled the room, Archibald missed the sound of footsteps coming into the room behind him.  I understand Miss Custis invited you to see me.  I fear you have come...

Archibald turned to face the man.  He knew who it was: George Washington.  He was a tall imposing man, well over six feet, with auburn hair and a temper which could scare the devil back into the woods. 

You! he spat with restrained anger.

Immediately, Archibald took a step back, his arms going up into a defensive position.  I am not here for an argument, he said quickly.

For once we are in agreement, replied Washington, who quickly closed the door behind him.  How dare you use the name of Miss Custis to gain entry into my home.

Archibald could see the temper beginning to flare.  Sir, said Archibald. Miss Custis and I...

Never say her name again, snapped Washington.

But...

What, sir, gives you the right to use her former name to gain access to this house?

Archibald paused before he spoke his next words.  Something did not seem right about that last question.  Archibald turned his head slightly and asked, Former name?

The two men stood staring at each other.  Archibald looked at the master of the house and for the first time noticed his eyes.  They were puffy and looked a little red.  It was almost...

What happened? asked Archibald, the words choking in his mouth as he got them out.

Washington, seeing that the young man was suddenly realizing his presence might have been a mistake, took a small amount of pity on him.  Taking a deep breath, Washington answered curtly, Miss Custis died suddenly yesterday after dinner.

No, whispered Archibald.  His hand immediately reached out for the chair in front of him.  He grasped it and swallowed. 

We buried her this morning after her funeral, continued Washington. 

How? asked Archibald in disbelief.

It is of no concern of yours, replied Washington.

It is of every concern of mine, snapped Archibald.

Washington’s temper was beginning to flare again, but he heard a knock behind him.  Archibald watched Washington turn, open the door and step out of the room.  The weight of the news Archibald had been told started to press upon his mind.  Patsy was gone.  He had seen her only a few days earlier.  Now she was gone.

When he returned, Washington said, William Lee will take you to the tomb.  Once there, you may give your final respects to Miss Custis.  After that, I expect you to leave this property.

Washington stepped out of the door frame and stared down Archibald.  Trying to collect his wits, Archibald slowly walked forward out of the parlor.  As he passed Washington, he turned his head towards the man who would have been his father-in-law and saw the famed man give the slightest gesture towards the door.  Turning, Archibald could see a small woman standing next to the door of a room on the other side of the passage.  He had seen her before.  It was Mrs. Washington.  Her eyes were full of sorrow and pain.  Had she been the one who talked to her husband? 

As Archibald slowly stepped back into the sunlight he heard Washington whisper to the butler, Do not let anyone into the house for the rest of the day.

Smith saw his brother and quickly dismounted.  He walked up to his brother and asked, What is it?

She’s...  It was the only word he could say.  Archibald broke down and began to cry.  Smith grabbed his brother and held him close, muffling Archibald’s wails into his own broad shoulders.

A slave walked up and said, Colonel Washington says you are to go to the tomb.

Smith looked at the slave and gave a nod.  He did not know exactly what was going on, but knew if the tomb was involved, it had to deal with death.  Whispering into his brother’s ear, he said, You got to stop.  Everyone is looking.  You need to stop, Archie.  Please stop.

Archibald looked up and saw the pleading look on his brother’s face.  He was right, but the pain was so great.  Had it really been only a few minutes prior he had been thinking of how happy he would be right at this moment as he would gain the hand of Patsy to become his wife?  And now she was dead?

The slave, William Lee, led the brothers down the path towards the tomb.  Looking over the man, Archibald noticed the fine condition of his clothes and determined this had to be Washington’s valet.  If ever there was a slave to be entrusted with this task, could any better be chosen? 

The silence between the three men was broken when Archibald asked, How?

William Lee looked back and said, I was not there.  I heard from others who were nearby.  They said Miss Patsy went to her room and she had a fit.  Worst one ever.  The Colonel shook her and screamed.  Missus did not know what to do. Then, real sudden like, she shake and then she was still.  Missus wail and wail.  Colonel tried to calm her, but it was no good.  Everyone in the house was sad because she was such a sweet girl.  She looked like one of her little dolls she used to play with when she laid out into her coffin.

It was her fits and he had not been there to stop it.  If he could have been there to soothe her perhaps she would have still been alive to see him.  They could prepare to live a life together.  Instead, he was walking to her grave.

The trio arrived at the entrance of the tomb.  William Lee unlocked the door and opened it.  The light shone into the vault and Archibald could see the coffin on the floor.  It was the newest one there.  The wood looked so freshly cut, as if it had been done that very morning.  Open it, said Archibald after gesturing his head towards the coffin.

No, replied William Lee gravely.

What did you say? snapped Archibald.

Colonel said you are to say your farewell, replied William Lee.  Looking behind him, William Lee lowered his voice and continued, I am willing to let you pray.  That’s it.

Archibald looked at the coffin, stepped into the tomb and knelt beside it.  As he stared at the coffin, he said a silent prayer to himself.  He reached out his hand to touch the wood.  He could hear William Lee take a sharp intake of air, but the resounding clap of Smith’s beefy hand on the slave’s shoulder told Archibald he could finish his prayer the way he wanted to.  Fishing into his pocket, he pulled out his small penny knife and quickly carved into the foot of the coffin M P C M. 

In their hearts, they wanted to be married.  If they could not have it in life, then in the next one they could be together.  Standing, Archibald turned and started to walk towards the path they had taken to come down to the tomb.  Smith followed behind and helped his older brother get onto his horse.  The two men slowly trotted up the lane from the mansion circle and proceeded to head up the drive to the gates of the estate. 

Archibald never turned his head.  Smith kept a close eye on his brother.  As much as he wanted to lighten his brother’s mood, sometimes a man needed to be alone before he could smile once more.  They followed the same path they had been on not so very long ago as they made their way to the estate.  This time, everything looked sadder. 

As they reached the road leading to Alexandria, Archibald was jerked from his own silent mourning by the snort of a horse.  He looked towards the sound and saw a young man approaching him.  He was tall in