LITMIR.BIZ

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Philadelphia, there was nothing but wilderness. Washington could abandon the city, let the British move in for a while, and the Revolutionary government could keep trying to sway the French to join us, which happened in 1778. And the British knew they could become locked in, trapped. So they in turn had to abandon the city.”

      Allison checked the little watch she wore on a chain around her neck, and saw that she’d given Jason plenty of time to take his group through.

      “Shall we enter the house?” she said, opening the gate that led up to the handsome brick house.

      “Let’s go!” Todd blurted out.

      She arched a brow at him. He grinned, and she smiled back.

      As she led her group into the small but beautifully manicured yard, Allison told them, “The house was built in 1752 of brick and stone, in what was known as the Flemish style, with alternating longer and shorter bricks. It was built for Lucy Tarleton’s father, an Irish immigrant who rose to success and attained great riches as a merchant—and had no love for the British King George.”

      “Mad King George!” Jimmy said.

      “Yes, so they called him.” Allison paused on the porch, waiting for the stragglers to catch up.

      “King George never set foot here, of course,” she went on. “The days of kings leading their men into battle were long gone. But as for King George’s war,” Allison said, “there were two English brothers in control of the war effort here—Admiral Richard Howe on the water and General William Howe on land. One thing they hoped, of course, was that many citizens would be loyal to Britain and start coming out of the woodwork when they arrived.”

      “And there were citizens loyal to Great Britain, right?” Jimmy asked.

      “Yep. There were citizens loyal to Great Britain, although many moved to Canada—the United Empire Loyalists—when the war began. But this city was a prize to the British, harder to obtain than they’d expected.”

      “The rivers weren’t deep enough for the Royal navy!” Todd said. “I know that because we’ve been on so many history tours already!”

      “Exactly,” Allison agreed. “And there were numerous unseen obstacles under the water. It was difficult! But eventually they made their way here.” She continued the story she’d told so many times before. “Philadelphia fell to the British, and was held by them from September 26, 1777, through June 18, 1778. General Washington deprived them of greater victory by seeing that the city was abandoned and the Continental Congress moved to New York City. The British set up a puppet government in Philadelphia for that nine-month period. Meanwhile, the British soldiers enjoyed the warmth and comfort of some of these splendid homes, while Washington’s men froze at Valley Forge. And so here, at this beautiful mansion, Lucy Tarleton stayed behind, pretending to be loyal to the Crown, throwing parties, and even feigning a romance with Lord Brian Bradley—soon to be known as ‘Beast’ Bradley, and soon to execute—without trial or king’s command—the lovely patriot, Lucy Tarleton. Lucy was indeed passing British secrets to General Washington down in Valley Forge. She was passionate about her cause and she was to die for her efforts, in a rare but tragically vindictive incident. Follow me.”

      The front door led through a tiny mudroom with cut-glass windows and then into a grand foyer. “In the city, you’ll find that many businesses were on the first floors of what are now historic buildings, while the living quarters were upstairs. But here, a servant would greet guests in the foyer, and determine where they’d go. Mr. Tarleton’s study was to your right, while the salon was the first room to your left,” she said, gesturing in those directions. “The kitchen is still a separate house out back, which prevented a cooking fire from reaching the main house. Beyond the salon is the dining room, and it gave the servants easy access to the kitchen. The left side of the house as you face me was the entertainment area, you might say, and to your right were the family rooms. In back of the study is the ladies’ parlor, and behind that, the music room. You’ll see an exquisite harpsichord there that actually belonged to the Tarleton family. Upstairs, there are five bedrooms and the attic, which contained storage space and rooms for the servants. The Tarletons had five household servants who lived in the main house and a number of gardeners and grooms who lived over the carriage house, which is also preserved.”

      “Servants! I could use a few!” the boys’ mother said, ruffling her younger son’s hair.

      Allison grinned and went on to describe various objects in the house. Then she explained that because of tight spaces and narrow hallways, they should go by themselves and look into the rooms on their own, respecting the velvet cord barriers. “So, please go ahead and walk through the first floor, and I’ll be here to answer any questions. Don’t forget to note the dumbwaiter at the rear of the dining room! It’s still in perfect working order.”

      She stood in the foyer, in a central area so guests could question her. She was surprised when Todd came up to her. She suspected some kind of sexual innuendo, but he seemed oddly quiet and awed. “Miss, can you come here for a minute?”

      “Sure, Todd.” She followed him to the doorway of Tarleton’s study. The room held his large carved maple desk, reproduction ledgers, quills, ink pots, study chairs and wooden shelves, some covered with glass doors. There were two paintings that dominated the walls in the room, one of Angus Tarleton himself, painted when he was a young man with shiny dark hair and bright blue eyes, traits he’d passed on to his daughter.

      But Todd was staring at the other painting. He pointed at it.

      “Who is that?” he asked in a whisper.

      “Oh, that’s the man they called ‘Beast’ Bradley,” she told him. “Brian Bradley. Remember? We talked about him.” She stared at the painting, too. Bradley was a young man in the portrait, with a narrow face, high cheekbones, and dark, brooding eyes. Allison had always thought that although the portrait was certainly flattering, the artist hadn’t liked the man. The cruelty for which he would one day be known seemed painted into the sharpness of his features and the look in his eyes. He was elegantly dressed, in the fashion of his day. And while he was a general in the king’s army, she’d seldom seen him depicted in uniform. She assumed that wearing anything that might be rank and file—even with elevating insignias—would have been, in his eyes, beneath him.

      Todd shivered, still pointing at the portrait.

      “And a ghost will follow you home!” he said, and his words weren’t light. He was truly unnerved.

      “He was a horrible man, but he’s long gone,” Allison said, surprised that the would-be “cool” preteen now seemed more like a scared schoolboy.

      “He isn’t gone,” Todd said. “He…he looked at me.”

      Despite herself, Allison felt a chill. She tried to tell herself the boy was trying to tease her, play off the situation and get her to slip an arm around him.

      But he wasn’t playing any games. He appeared really frightened.

      “It’s the way the portrait’s painted,” Allison assured him, but she found herself staring up at Bradley again. She never came into this room when she was alone, locking up and setting the alarms for the night. She always stood in the doorway, glanced in and moved on. While the house was equipped with a modern alarm system, they were supposed to make sure no visitors tried to stay on to defy the ghosts of the mansion.

      Legend had it that Beast Bradley had thrust his knife straight into the heart of Lucy Tarleton in the grand salon; he’d killed her there while her father had wept for her life and been forced to watch. To add to the cruelty of the act, he’d left Angus Tarleton alive to hold his dying daughter. According to history—in this case, the accounts that were handed down by the survivors—Brian Bradley hadn’t killed Lucy for her patriot escapades. He’d killed her because he’d discovered she was false to him, that she wasn’t in love with him at all.

      Before the arrival of the British, Lucy was about to become betrothed to another patriot, Stewart Douglas, who had fled the city with other American

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