Washington sat at his desk in silence and then smiled, “Did Mrs. Loring really faint when you called the king a tyrant?”
“Yes, sir. She fell right out of her chair,” responded Gabriel, smiling.
“Gabriel, I have no doubt your motives are pure and you have the heart of a true patriot,” Washington said, rising from his chair at his desk. “But it takes more than just heart to be an asset to this army.”
“Ahem, Your Excellency? If I may, sir,” Artemas began, clearing his throat, “please do not forget the courage and clearness of mind under pressure that this young man displayed in saving my life.”
“Oh, believe me, Artemas, I have not forgotten. Why do you think I am taking precious time to decide what should be done with young Master Cooper?”
Gabriel was trying to hold back his restlessness and remain still in his chair when someone knocked at the door to the room. A tall, thin man peered in through the crack in the door. “Sorry to bother you, sir, but you have previously asked I bring correspondence from our French contacts directly and immediately to your attention. I have a letter here from a . . .” The man looked down awkwardly at the paper, staring at it, trying to decipher the name. “ . . . a Monsieur Beaumar . . . Chais.”
“Yes, Joseph, please bring it here. Excuse me a moment,” said Washington to Artemas, Gabriel, and Nathaniel. The man marched in quickly, handed the letter to Washington, did an about-face, and was about to leave the room when Washington said, “Joseph, please don’t leave us so quickly. Gabriel, let me introduce you. This is Joseph Reed. He is one of my few aides de camp here at Cambridge. He is a part of what I call my military family, as he resides here at headquarters and plays a central role in all we are trying to accomplish, namely driving the British from Boston. His duties encompass trying to help me with this intolerable task of letter writing, with which he is doing a fine job.”
“Thank you, sir,” responded Reed.
Gabriel felt a twinge of envy well up inside him. To live and work in this wonderful house that served as the headquarters for freedom, thinking of ways to defeat the king, his parents would be so proud.
“Mr. Reed,” continued Washington, “seated on the right is Captain Artemas Greenwood, on the left is General Nathaniel Greene, whom I believe you know, and in the middle is our new young friend, Master Gabriel Cooper of New York. Now, before you scurry off, let me have a quick look at this letter.” Washington glanced down at the letter, his eyes darting quickly all over the page. “Mr. Reed, I’m afraid I can understand but very little of this letter, as it is written in French. Why hasn’t this been translated?”
“Sir,” responded Reed, “it came directly to Cambridge instead of Philadelphia. With all these men here, we surely will find someone who can read French.”
“Well, this won’t do. As you know, Joseph, we are trying to establish contacts in France. Monsieur Beaumarchais is one of those contacts. I must know what this says,” Washington said, clearly frustrated. “I don’t know how Congress expects us to develop an alliance with France when we can’t even read their letters!”
“May I see it, sir?” asked Gabriel, interrupting Washington’s frustrated rant.
“Son, this is not one of your books!” responded Washington, hastily slapping the letter down on his desk.
“General, I would suggest you let him see it, sir,” said Nathaniel.
Washington let out a sigh, slid the letter over to Gabriel, and then sat down behind his desk, slumping in his chair. Gabriel picked the letter up off Washington’s desk, looked it over, and began to read it aloud.
“‘To the commanding chief of the Provincial military at Cambridge, I am Pierre-Augustin Caron de Beaumarchais. I am a businessman who is very happy’ . . . no, I mean, ‘interested in your fight for freedom.’”
“Sorry, sir, my French is not perfect,” said Gabriel, looking up from the paper.
He continued reading again from the letter, “‘I have been in prison at the hands of corrupt leaders. I am released, but stripped of my civil rights. Although my estate has been taken from me, I know of others here who have the desire, and the resources, to see you succeed in your pursuit of liberty. Should it please the commander who reads this, I wish to establish correspondence. I cannot offer this correspondence on behalf of Our Most Royal Majesty, Louis the XVI. I do have every confidence His Majesty will restore my civil rights, at which time I am sure my associations will look to your favor most kindly. Amicably, Monsieur Beaumarchais.’”
Gabriel put the letter carefully back on Washington’s desk. Silence filled the room. Finally, Washington spoke, “Gabriel, I can’t see the nose in front of my face. You told me your mother was from France when we first met, did you not?”
“Yes, sir,” said Gabriel. “She taught me to read and write French. I can speak a little, but I haven’t had much practice lately.”
“Mr. Reed,” said Washington. “That will do for now. I will draft a response to this letter after I have finished with Master Cooper here.”
“Yes, sir,” said Joseph Reed, leaving the room and shutting the door behind him.
“Gabriel, where did your mother come from in France?” asked Washington.
“I don’t know, sir. She told me very little about her past. Only that she met my father when her parents took her on a trip to England. She was nineteen and decided not to return to France with her parents. That is all I know except what she told me about the ring and what she put in her last note to me.”
“What ring?” asked Washington.
Gabriel hesitated for a moment. No one had ever asked to see
