In 1609 a flotilla of ships set out from Plymouth, England, for Jamestown, Virginia, to bring more settlers and needed supplies to the new English colony. During a storm at sea, the flagship Sea Venture, a brand-new ship on its maiden voyage, was blown off course. Because it was leaking badly, the captain deliberately wrecked it on the island of Bermuda where the approximately 150 survivors spent nine months building two smaller ships with local wood and remnants from the wreckage. After setting sail almost a year after their arrival in Bermuda, the new ships, named Patience and Deliverance, arrived in Jamestown only to discover that most of the settlers from the other ships had died. This dark period in Jamestown’s history became known as the Starving Time. It is widely believed that the story of the Sea Venture’s wreck on Bermuda was the basis for William Shakespeare’s play The Tempest.

I sat back, my mind reeling. Shakespeare’s play The Tempest, Bruton Parish Church in Williamsburg, the Jamestown Settlement, and James Madison were somehow all related to whatever my father and Prescott were searching for. Something dangerous. Two-hundred-year-old Madeira—that James Madison was to have drunk—was also part of this puzzle, according to Prescott. And there was a chance that it all had something to do with a secret society.

I had no idea what Leland and Prescott were looking for. No clue how to put this puzzle together.

But it intrigued me and I meant to try.

A CAR PULLED UP next to me and the driver, a woman, pointed a finger at my car and raised her eyebrows, the universal gesture for are you leaving this parking place anytime soon or are you just going to sit there and text? I was so rattled after what I’d just read that I nodded, indicated I was leaving, and angled out of my spot. She zipped in behind me as I pulled out.

I was driving in the wrong direction, away from home, but I kept going. By the time I turned left onto Highway 15, known as James Madison’s Highway—an irony that wasn’t lost on me—I knew I was heading for Leesburg. It was the county seat for Loudoun County, a town with colonial roots, older than Middleburg by thirty years. It was also where the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution had been sent for safekeeping during the War of 1812. Had Presidents Washington and Madison met somewhere in Leesburg? I didn’t know, but it was definitely possible.

Right now, though, I had a different destination in mind: Union Cemetery, where I planned to visit Miranda Avery’s grave and to see where Prescott Avery would soon be buried.