1776
Abigail and Dorothy spoke in hushed tones, not wanting to disturb Dorothy’s husband. He’d been wrestling with a fever since the previous night. Dorothy had finally gotten him to drink some broth but did not hold hope he would be ready by this afternoon.
“I’ve got to go. John’s too sick to be there, and this is too important. I can represent him.”
“Womenfolk aren’t allowed to attend, this is a man’s business, Dorothy. You can’t just show up. Everyone knows John. Everyone will know it’s you.”
“I’ll have him write an attestation. That I’m his representative.” Dorothy got some parchment from John’s desk and his best quill pen. She took these and the bible into the dim bed chamber. John was awake. Weak but awake.
“I’ve got it. Can you help me dress Abigail?”
Abigail Adams had no idea how she let Dorothy talk her into this addlepated idea. But she had to admit that dressed in breeches and waistcoat, Dorothy did cut a fine figure. It wouldn’t fool anyone at the meeting, but if she kept her hat low, and walked with a swagger, she just might make it past the watch. Tonight was the night. Abigail’s John would also be there.
Dorothy was nervous, making her way through the streets of Pennsylvania toward the State House. She remembered the special knock that John had taught her. She handed John’s note to Ben who showed it to Abigail’s husband John Adams. The writing was shaky but legible, and John’s signature memorable.
The document in question had to be signed tonight by those present. Those present would gather the remaining members and get their signatures in the coming days. But Dorothy’s husband was one of the leaders. His signature needed to be on the document tonight.
Ben swore Dorothy to secrecy, reminding her that what happened within those walls was sacred and secret. “If we don’t hand together, we’ll all hang separately.” He quipped, reminding the others present to keep quiet about this substitute signatory.
Dorothy was nervous, but took the proffered quill and scrawled largely John Hancock, adding a flourish of DQ for Dorothy Quincy below his signature. She did this whenever she was required to sign her husband’s name. While he was putting together a new country, she still had a household to run.
2023
HEADLINE: New York Times
Experts find Hancock Signature on Declaration Forged
— Lkai
Abigail and Dorothy spoke in hushed tones, not wanting to disturb Dorothy’s husband. He’d been wrestling with a fever since the previous night. Dorothy had finally gotten him to drink some broth but did not hold hope he would be ready by this afternoon.
“I’ve got to go. John’s too sick to be there, and this is too important. I can represent him.”
“Womenfolk aren’t allowed to attend, this is a man’s business, Dorothy. You can’t just show up. Everyone knows John. Everyone will know it’s you.”
“I’ll have him write an attestation. That I’m his representative.” Dorothy got some parchment from John’s desk and his best quill pen. She took these and the bible into the dim bed chamber. John was awake. Weak but awake.
“I’ve got it. Can you help me dress Abigail?”
Abigail Adams had no idea how she let Dorothy talk her into this addlepated idea. But she had to admit that dressed in breeches and waistcoat, Dorothy did cut a fine figure. It wouldn’t fool anyone at the meeting, but if she kept her hat low, and walked with a swagger, she just might make it past the watch. Tonight was the night. Abigail’s John would also be there.
Dorothy was nervous, making her way through the streets of Pennsylvania toward the State House. She remembered the special knock that John had taught her. She handed John’s note to Ben who showed it to Abigail’s husband John Adams. The writing was shaky but legible, and John’s signature memorable.
The document in question had to be signed tonight by those present. Those present would gather the remaining members and get their signatures in the coming days. But Dorothy’s husband was one of the leaders. His signature needed to be on the document tonight.
Ben swore Dorothy to secrecy, reminding her that what happened within those walls was sacred and secret. “If we don’t hand together, we’ll all hang separately.” He quipped, reminding the others present to keep quiet about this substitute signatory.
Dorothy was nervous, but took the proffered quill and scrawled largely John Hancock, adding a flourish of DQ for Dorothy Quincy below his signature. She did this whenever she was required to sign her husband’s name. While he was putting together a new country, she still had a household to run.
2023
HEADLINE: New York Times
Experts find Hancock Signature on Declaration Forged
— Lkai
Love that a woman was possibly involved, as it should be. - opelikakat
ReplyDeleteOh! I didn't know there was an actual article in the NYT about this... was there? No, that's part of your fiction, yes? I do like your tale as well! It's different! I read McCullough's bio of John Adams, and also his "1776." I love that stuff! Good tale! ---Macoff
ReplyDeleteFiction, all fiction. I liked the flourish under Hancock's signature.
Delete