Jan Wilde's much-needed vacation in Williamsburg, Virginia, is anything but restful. Here in this historic restored colonial village, her sleep is invaded by strangers from two centuries in the past. They seem so close, so real—and when Jan awakens in the morning, their lives and loves and the secret they share shadow her very existence. The only way Jan can ever be free is to seek the truth . . . in her dreams. Jan Wilde's much-needed vacation in Williamsburg, Virginia, is anything but restful. Here in this historic restored colonial village, her sleep is invaded by strangers from two centuries in the past. They seem so close, so real—and when Jan awakens in the morning, their lives and loves and the secret they share shadow her very existence. The only way Jan can ever be free is to seek the truth . . . in her dreams. Elizabeth Peters (writing as Barbara Michaels) was born and brought up in Illinois and earned her Ph.D. in Egyptology from the University of Chicago's famed Oriental Institute. Peters was named Grandmaster at the inaugural Anthony Awards in 1986, Grandmaster by the Mystery Writers of America at the Edgar® Awards in 1998, and given The Lifetime Achievement Award at Malice Domestic in 2003. She lives in an historic farmhouse in western Maryland. Patriot's Dream By Barbara Michaels HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. Copyright © 2007 Barbara Michaels All right reserved. ISBN: 9780060828691 Chapter One Summer 1976-Spring 1774 Jan woke with a start that left every muscle in her body quivering. The room was dark and silent, as it is in the dead hours of early morning, but she was as wide awake as if she had slept for a full eight hours. Oh, no, she thought in disgust . . . not the damn insomnia, not here! She had come to Williamsburg for a nice rest. "A nice rest" was her mother's phrase, and her mother's idea; but Jan knew what Ellen's real motives were. Not that there was any use in pointing them out. Ellen would have opened her big blue eyes even wider, and wept. She wept neatly and prettily, like the Southern belle she had always yearned to be. No one would have guessed that she had been born Betty Jo Billings, in Wichita, Kansas, and that her father had been a bricklayer. When she had married into the Wilde family of Virginia, she had taken on all the pretensions of their class. Jan knew she shouldn't be thinking about her mother, not if she wanted to get back to sleep; but she could not help recalling the interminable arguments that had preceded her departure from New York. She had pointed out that Williamsburg was hardly the place for a rest, especially in the Bicentennial summer of 1976. "The place will be absolutely crawling with tourists," she had protested. "And if the old servant—what's her name?—is in the hospital, I'll have to work myself to death. That's why Aunt Camilla and Uncle Henry invited me, they want a free maid for the summer. They never gave a damn about our branch of the family." Ellen's raised eyebrows indicated ladylike distaste for her daughter's vulgarity. As usual, she answered the least important question first. "Bess. Dear old Auntie Bess. She's been with the family since she was a tiny pickaninny. She would never have deserted your great-aunt and uncle if she hadn't broken her hip." "It's a wonder she didn't break her neck," Jan said. "She must be seventy—and a fool if she spent her life playing old family servant for those two. At that, she isn't as old as Aunt Camilla—and Uncle Henry must be eighty-five. They need a full-time nurse, not me." She expected Ellen to produce the arguments she had used before—the ostensible reasons that concealed her real motive. The lovely old family mansion was about to pass out of the hands of the family, after two hundred and fifty years; Jan really ought to see it before it became public property. Imagine, having to buy a ticket to see the home of one's ancestors! So Ellen had argued, on previous occasions. But she was smarter than Jan realized. This time she simply raised her delicate eyebrows and said softly, "But where else is there for you to go?" There was no other place. Only Ellen's stuffy little apartment, which was always crowded with Ellen's friends, fluttering in and out for bridge and tea and luncheon, chattering in shrill voices like the flock of molting birds they resembled. During the school year, while she was teaching, Jan was able to keep out of their way. In the sticky New York summer, with her nerves in their stretched state. . . . Even tourist-ridden Williamsburg and two decrepit relatives might be an improvement. Williamsburg had turned out to be less of a trial than she had expected. During the day it was certainly crowded. As the capital of Virginia during most of the Revolution, the town had a fascinating history. Washington, Jefferson, and Patrick Henry had dined at the Raleigh Tavern and debated independence in the red brick Capitol. Lafayette had lived there, with his commander in c