Early Modern Story Part 1 (Exposition and Rising Action)

Frederick waited silently in bed. He could feel the rise and fall of his breathing. Outside his large bedroom window, stars glistened in the deep black sky. The moon shone like abalone, lighting the steeple of St. Mary Cathedral. “Gong, gong, gong,” rang the steeple bells. Frederick pictured the bellboy swinging back and forth on the bell’s long rope. It was midnight and time to get to work.

Slipping his feet out from under his blankets, Frederick made his way to the hearth where his fire burned brightly. Taking a candle from the mantle, he lit it on the fire and crept back to his bed. Setting the candle on the floor, Frederick knelt down and pried up the floorboard. Reaching in, he fumbled until his hands grasped the mahogany box. Carefully pulling the box from under the floor, Frederick reached inside it and withdrew a long strip of parchment. Taking his quill and ink from his nightstand, Frederick made the way to his desk. Unrolling the parchment, he scrawled his name at the bottom.

“No one must ever see this,” he told himself. Laughing, he thought of what a wicked a man he was. Pulling his cloak around his shoulders, Frederick stowed the parchment in his pocket and grabbed his trunk of clothes. Quietly, he exited the room and made his way down to the carriage house.

“Psssst,” whispered Cornwallis’ voice.

“Where are you?” asked Frederick.

“Just to your right,” said the voice.

Turning, Frederick saw the carriage. A small candle gleamed inside.

“Good timing,” said Cornwallis, “hand me your things.”

Pulling open the door to the carriage, Frederick stepped in and was met by the King’s pompous grin, and Henry Clinton’s pudgy face. Following Frederick, Cornwallis hopped into the carriage as it departed, and patted Frederick on the back.

“Friends, is this trip really necessary?” asked Frederick in a sleepy voice.

“My colonies are in shambles. They want to trade with other countries. Considering these facts, yes, this trip is necessary my Lord Frederick Smith,” said the King in a worried tone. “I do need to visit them every once in a while, and Frederick, you know there is a little business we need to take care of. We need to visit the colonies!”

“He’s a little flustered,” said Clinton in a hushed tone. “The French have sent fleets out towards us. Nothing serious, but you know. By the way,” added Clinton. “I love those lavender breeches.” Frederick looked down, and to his horror discovered he still had on his lavender velvet bedtime breeches.

“How sweet,” Frederick grunted to Clinton, though he did agree lavender was a superb color on him.

“We need to talk, men,” said the King. “Frederick, the paper please.” Pulling the folded parchment from his pocket, Frederick handed it to the King. The King continued, “I need to get rid of France once and for all. Every day they come closer to our shores. We are stronger than they are, but it is costing us a fortune to protect our country. Honestly, I’m afraid France will attack us soon. You know that Louis wants revenge, and he is one of the most powerful military leaders in the world. I can’t lose my country to ‘Louis of France.’ It would be an embarrassment. So, I need your help. Frederick has crafted us a plan.” The King opened the parchment, and passed it around. “Would you care to explain?” he asked Frederick.

“All right,” acquiesced Frederick. He had this awful feeling that he shouldn’t have done this work for the King. He shouldn’t have thought of this plan, but the idea of turmoil, of mischief, was too alluring. “Here is the plan. We need a war. We’ll start by raising taxes in the Colonies. This will anger the people and raise money for us. We will get our friends in the colonies to start a rebellion against Britain.” Frederick could hear himself talking at super speed, but he wanted to get it all out as quickly as possible. “They’ll incite the people. All this time, no one will know that they are working for us, so we will even have insight into the Colonies’ battle strategies. France will jump at the opportunity to fight against us and join the colonies. If we win, France will be weakened and we can send our troops to France immediately and take it over.” Frederick stopped and sighed.

“It’s brilliant,” said Clinton. “But I’ll agree to it only as long as I get a matching pair of lavender breeches!”

Grabbing the paper from Frederick’s hands, the King signed the bottom of the page. “Of course…I’m signing on to the plan. It is glorious. Pure propaganda in its raw beautiful beginning,” said the King.

It was morning by the time they had finished discussing Frederick’s plan. Their candle had burned down to a pool of wax. Outside, a rooster crowed. The four men were relieved when the carriage reached smooth road. The country roads were bumpy and uneven.

“We must be almost there,” said Cornwallis. Frederick realized that he had not said anything after he introduced his plan, but knew that his best friend would always back him up. Wouldn’t he?

The carriage slowed to a halt. Stepping from the coach, Frederick took in the air. It smelled of salty seawater and morning dew. A ray of sunlight cast a glow, making his brown hair shine and sending a shiver of warmth down his back. He opened his eyes and saw the King’s ship, “The Devil,” in front of him. “How fitting its name is for the King,” thought Frederick. Then he realized…the name fit him too.

Frederick stood in front of the mirror. It had been one week since they arrived in the colonies. He tightened his red cropped breaches. Pulling on a pair of white stockings, he cross-gartered them with a new strand of red ribbon. Pulling on his lined matador vest, Frederick was ready to go. He had butterflies in his stomach. He didn’t usually get this way before parties, but this party was different. It was Jane Jefferson’s birthday. Frederick had known her sister Mary for a long time, and this night, he had to convince her to convince her brother to start the rebellion. His name was Thomas, and he was already quite popular with the colonies’ population. He had powerful friends in Boston, and would be the perfect route to a war.

Cornwallis had to drag Frederick from the carriage to the party. The room was crowded. The Jeffersons’ home was lavish. Thick red drapes hung at the windows, framing the sunset. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, and candles danced on the faces of finely dressed guests. Frederick made his way around the party in search of Mary. “Everything is normal,” he told himself. “There is no need to get worked up.”

Mary was sitting at a table alone, drinking from a golden goblet. Her pearl earrings swung merrily about her neck. Frederick was reminded of a Vermeer painting, like the one he had seen on his trip to Amsterdam. “Lady Jefferson,” he said as he sat beside her at the table.

“Frederick!” she exclaimed. “I’m delighted to see you.” Frederick began by asking about her life here in the Colonies. She seemed happy. Finally he couldn’t bear it any more.

“Would a walk in the garden please you Mary? There is something we need to discuss,” he said.

“Of course. What is it?” she asked. So Frederick told her his story. About the French, money, and his plan. “Frederick, I couldn’t,” said Mary pulling away. “He would be a traitor to his own family.”

“It wouldn’t work that way,” reasoned Frederick. “We would honor him. He would be supporting his homeland, Britain!”

“It would be dishonest, Frederick.” Mary’s voice had shrunk to an uncertain stammer. “Frederick, I would do anything for you, because I love you like a brother.”

“Then why won’t you convince him,” yelled Frederick.

“BECAUSE I LOVE THOMAS AS A BROTHER TOO. FOR GOODNESS SAKE HE IS MY BROTHER,” Mary yelled back.

Frederick was desperate. “I’m sorry Mary. I shouldn’t have yelled,” he said superficially. “I’m just not cut out for starting a war. Life is too large, my plans too big. I just thought maybe your brother could help.” Frederick turned and began walking back to the house.

Just before he reached the door, Mary called to him, “Frederick. Come back…please.” He turned. Her face was flushed and her mouth had softened to a contented smile. “I’ll try. I can’t promise you anything, but I will try to convince him. If anyone can deceive an entire colony of people it would be my brother.” And with that, she turned and ran inside.


Frederick looked over the bow of “The Devil” as it pulled into Britain’s main harbor. He was home. The carriage ride back to Northampton was a long one. The King, Clinton, and Cornwallis were still strategizing the scandal when the carriage pulled up at the gate to Frederick’s mansion. He was ready to sleep in his own bed. He had gotten word that Thomas had agreed to start the rebellion, and now it was time to rest. Dragging his body up the stairs to his bedroom, he pulled on his lavender bed breeches and slept.