When the day comes, p.20
When the Day Comes, page 20
Along with the songs of the wassailers, I found myself humming carols I knew from my other path—ones that had not yet been composed. “Silent Night,” “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear,” and “Jingle Bells” were three of my favorites.
“What are you humming?” Rebecca asked as she entered the sitting room with a bunch of holly in her hands.
I had been humming “Up on the Housetop” but stopped when she gave me a quizzical stare. “Nothing.” I smiled, allowing the season to lift my spirits.
“What present are you giving me?” She redirected the conversation to her favorite subject. “A new hat? A pair of mittens? A doll?”
“You’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”
With the additional income from Thomas Jefferson’s pamphlet, which had paid off the remaining debts we owed, Mama and I had decided to purchase store-bought gifts for the girls. It had been fun to shop for them together, though we hadn’t been extravagant. Since the colonial boycott on British goods had begun at the beginning of December, the cost to produce our weekly paper had increased.
Rebecca pressed her lips into a line as she watched me hang the garland. “Do you have to go to the governor’s ball tonight?”
“I don’t have to go,” I told her, “but I want to.”
The invitation had been a surprise. Surely Governor Dunmore knew we had printed Thomas Jefferson’s pamphlet—and the other pamphlets that had come in after his. Lieutenant Addison was keeping a close watch on our activities, spending much of his time on our property. He had been useful, chopping wood with Abraham, toting bushel baskets of vegetables from our harvest, and repairing the shingles on the kitchen after a destructive storm. He seemed always to be present, confirming Mama’s earlier suspicions. Which led me to believe that the governor knew about our activities and had still invited us to the ball.
Perhaps to keep his enemies close?
Rebecca’s pout was well-rehearsed, but I was immune to it. “But if you and Mama go to the ball, what will Hannah and I do all evening?”
“You will stay here with Mariah and Abraham. They plan to pop corn and heat cider.”
“Why do you want to go?” she asked.
“Why, indeed?” I couldn’t hide the grin from my face. Henry would be in attendance, and I had not seen him for almost five months. The waiting had been especially difficult with the war approaching and my uncertainty about his fate.
I sent up a prayer, begging God to spare Henry in the war to come. I could not wait to see him again, if only to convince myself that he was alive and well.
A knock at the front door brought my attention back to the task at hand. “Mayhap the wassailers have arrived,” I said to Rebecca. “Here. Place the garland over the nails.”
She took the garland as I walked into the front hall. I wiped my hands on my apron, trying to get the sticky sap off my fingers, and opened the front door.
Mister Charlton, Sophia’s father, stood on our front stoop. He was a large man, and he wore a dark grey wig that was one of the finest in Williamsburg.
“Good day to you, Mister Charlton. Won’t you come in?” It had cooled considerably over the past week, reminding me of the weather in Whitby.
Mister Charlton entered the front hall, a gruff demeanor emanating from his person. He was not a jolly man, but he’d been kind to me over the years, especially as one of Sophia’s friends. Today, however, he did not offer me any warmth as he turned to face me.
“How may I be of service to you?” I asked, putting a smile upon my face.
“I’ve come on a most unpleasant errand.”
My heart rate picked up at his tone and disposition. “I pray nothing is wrong with Sophia.”
“Nay. ’Tis not about my daughter—but about you and your mother and this printing shop.”
“Us?” I tipped my head in confusion. “What unpleasant errand involves us?”
He held up Thomas Jefferson’s pamphlet, A Summary View of the Rights of British America. “Over the course of the past few months,” he began, “there have been more and more of these types of publications coming from this printing house. I’ve been made aware of the increase since your father’s passing.”
I stared at him, unable to deny his accusation, wondering who had made him “aware.” We did not affix our name to all the pamphlets we published.
“As a loyal British subject, I cannot condone such behavior from the public printer.” He slapped the pamphlet down on a nearby table. “This is an outrage and a treasonous assault on the king.”
“I beg to differ, Mister Charlton.” My heart was still thumping hard, and I had to swallow the nerves threatening to make me shy away from him. “As the public printer, we are under contract to print whatever the governor, his council, and the burgesses ask of us—but that does not mean we are limited to printing for the government alone. We have the right—nay, the responsibility—to keep the press free and allow anyone who so desires to publish their thoughts and ideas.”
“That does not mean you are obligated to print everything.”
“True. But we reserve the right to print whatever we choose.”
“Thus, the reason for my visit.” His face was red, and his voice had risen to such levels that Mama came down the stairs to see who was here.
“I will not associate with anyone who supports these so-called Patriots.” Mister Charlton turned to address Mama, as well. “As long as you persist, my family will not patronize this establishment and will cancel our subscription. I will also be certain to pass this information along to others who will do the same.” He looked directly at me. “And no one in my home will darken this doorway until I can be assured of your loyalty to the king.”
He was going to keep Sophia from coming to visit? I opened my mouth to protest, but Mama shook her head.
Mister Charlton looked from me to Mama. His jowls shook with the intensity of his words. “That is not my only concern. There has been strange talk circulating about the two of you.”
“Strange talk?” Mama came down the rest of the steps to face our guest.
“Some people think you are spies, or at the very least, leading double lives. You’ve been overheard talking about recruiting men for the war effort—something about three thousand men enlisting every day—and other troubling things.”
I frowned, perplexed by his accusations. “Us? Recruiting men for a war?”
And then I remembered that day outside the kitchen when Mama had asked if I had heard from Reggie. I’d said he was busy recruiting men for the war effort and that there were three thousand men enlisting every day.
Which meant that Louis had not only overheard us but had been spreading rumors about us. What else had he been saying?
“When this crisis blows over,” Mister Charlton continued, “you will find yourselves without friends, a business, or an income. You put yourselves and the people under your roof in danger. Is that what you desire? To tempt the ire of the governor or the king?” He narrowed his eyes as he stared at me. “Is it worth all that, Libby?”
I didn’t respond as I met his gaze. Had I not known the outcome of the looming war, I might have cowered under his threats.
“I’ve said my piece, and now I shall leave your establishment. But do not be mistaken. I strongly believe the public printing contract should be removed from your business and given to someone who supports the king. I will work toward that end, and others will join my effort.”
Men like Louis and Mister Archer, no doubt.
A moment later, the door reverberated with the force of his anger.
“Louis,” I said with anger burning in my chest. “He is trying to destroy us from within.”
“He is only doing what he thinks is necessary.” Mama picked up Mister Jefferson’s pamphlet. “He is fighting a losing battle.”
“Mayhap, but what might we lose in the process?” I couldn’t believe how calm she was acting.
Her green eyes were steady as she looked at me. “What makes us different from anyone else? Why must we not pay a cost for freedom? Is it everyone else’s job to sacrifice so that we can enjoy the benefits of their payment? Nay. Freedom isn’t free, Libby. The price is far greater than anyone realizes.” She linked her elbow through mine and led me back into the sitting room. It smelled of orange and clove pomanders and fresh pine. “By the end of this, our lives will look far different than we can imagine.”
“What if they succeed in removing the contract from us?”
“The governor has more important issues to address.”
I wanted to believe her. “What will I do without Sophia’s companionship?”
“Mayhap, as things progress, he’ll change his mind.” Mama meant as the war unfolded, though she couldn’t say such things in front of Rebecca. Instead, she took the garland from Rebecca’s hands and touched her younger daughter’s cheek. “We can pray he’ll have a change of heart. He would not be the only one.”
“I hope he’ll still allow Sophia to speak to me when not at home. I could not bear to be apart from her overlong.”
Mama placed her free hand on my arm. “Much will be required of us, Libby. But let us think of better things today.” She put a smile on her face and in her voice. “For tomorrow is Christmas and tonight is the ball. We must take whatever joy can be found from each day and not borrow tomorrow’s sorrow.”
Rebecca giggled. “That rhymed.”
I hugged her close and smiled up at Mama, so thankful for my family and the many blessings God had bestowed upon me.
There was much to be grateful for, even with the troubles surrounding us on every side.
The long-awaited Christmas Eve ball at the Governor’s Palace had arrived. Though it was cold, Mama and I walked to the palace, just as we had done in May while the burgesses were in session.
Wassailers and merrymakers were out on Duke of Gloucester Street, singing, dancing, and celebrating from the College of William and Mary all the way to the capitol building. Some were in colorful costumes, with hats and noisemakers. I smiled as we passed a group dressed as court jesters. They wished us health, prosperity, and good tidings.
Mama and I had remade my best gown for tonight’s occasion, unable to purchase anything new. The Virginia cotton was a solid green, which complemented my eyes. The back was arranged in box pleats that fell loosely from my shoulder to the floor and had a slight train. The gown was open in front, showing off my decorative stomacher and petticoat. Under the petticoat I wore wide panniers to accentuate my hips, and at the sleeves were scalloped ruffles of elbow-length lace crafted in Virginia. I did not prefer the oversized hairstyles many women chose for formal events. Instead, Mariah had helped me style the top of my hair raised over a wool toque. The rest was waved and curled, with ringlets at the back. It was still fashionable but not gaudy, and I wore a simple green bow at the back instead of the elaborate headdresses I would be sure to see this evening.
“How many patients remain at Cumberland Hall?” Mama asked as we turned off Duke of Gloucester Street and onto the Palace Green.
“About two dozen.”
“And has Dr. Aiken returned to Sleights?”
“Yes. He wanted to be home for Christmas.”
“Have you heard from Reggie?”
I sighed, thinking about the husband I had not seen in almost five months. “I did not receive his weekly letter, though the post might be slow because of the war.” Reggie’s letters had come every Monday since we were separated in London. Until now.
“Any news on the war?”
“Daily, but all anyone is talking about now is the raid. Everyone is angry that the Germans were successful. There is an investigation into how the Royal Navy missed the advance notice. The number of deaths is now one hundred and thirty.”
“I’m very sorry you’ve had to endure such a thing.” Mama took my hand in hers. “But God has placed you there for His purposes, and you have done a fine job.”
Torches lit the drive up the Palace Green. My heart raced at the knowledge that I would soon be in Henry’s company again. It had been much too long.
We entered the palace and were announced by the footmen, who were dressed in pale blue livery. Governor Dunmore and Lady Dunmore were near the door, greeting their guests. Their eldest daughter, Lady Catherine, was with them.
Her presence surprised me. She was not quite fifteen. Had they chosen to present her to society so soon?
“Good evening, Mistress Conant,” Governor Dunmore said to Mama as she curtsied before him.
“It’s a pleasure to be here, Governor Dunmore,” Mama replied. “Thank you for the invitation, and congratulations on your recent victory at Point Pleasant. Your treaty with Chief Cornstalk will ensure peace among the settlers and the Shawnee for years to come.”
Governor Dunmore’s chest puffed out at Mama’s compliment. Over the summer and fall months, the governor had been leading an effort to secure lands in the west for Virginia and had recently negotiated a treaty with a Shawnee chief to protect the settlers in that area.
“And this is your daughter Libby?” he asked.
I curtsied before him and noticed the deep cleft in his chin. It was the most prominent feature on his otherwise plain face. “Good evening.”
“I’ve heard much about you in recent months,” Governor Dunmore said as he studied me. His wife turned from the people she had been speaking to, and the governor introduced us to her.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Lady Dunmore said.
“The pleasure is ours,” Mama responded, curtsying.
What had the governor heard about me? And who was speaking to him? I longed to ask him, but he turned to the next guests who entered.
“Do you think Lieutenant Addison is talking to him about me?” I whispered as Mama and I moved deeper into the palace.
“What could he have said? You’ve done little else but work.”
“But it’s the work we’ve been doing that he might be sharing.”
We walked through the entry hall and into a smaller hall that led to the ballroom. The orchestra was playing a lively tune, though no one was dancing yet. They would wait until the governor and Lady Dunmore opened the ball with the minuet. Instead, people milled about the long, narrow ballroom, visiting, laughing, and indulging in festive drinks.
Mama joined a conversation with a group of women, but I did not engage beyond a simple greeting. I scanned the room and almost immediately met Henry’s clear, blue-eyed gaze. He smiled, and the months melted away. He was standing with several of the local burgesses, including Mister Peyton Randolph, who had been the president of the recent Continental Congress. While the men around him talked, Henry did not remove his gaze from me, and I could not hide the grin that lit my face.
I had missed him so.
He broke away from the burgesses and walked across the ballroom toward me. I held my breath at his approach, wishing we were alone in the sitting room or at the end of the torch-lit lane. Then we could be open with each other, not worrying about what others heard us say. And there were so many things I wanted to say to him.
It was strange how much had happened in my life while we were parted—both here and in 1914. I felt different after living on the coastal moors these past five months. Yet how could I ever convey that to him?
His smile was for me alone as he wove between the other guests. He looked as if he had much to tell me, too—but then Governor Dunmore arrived in the ballroom with his wife and daughter.
Henry was stopped by the governor, who said something I could not hear. There was a short pause as Henry turned to Lady Catherine, spoke to her, and then offered his arm.
The orchestra changed its tune, and the master of ceremony announced the opening minuet. Henry offered me an apologetic glance no one else would have noticed before leading Lady Catherine to the middle of the ballroom.
My disappointment was acute. I felt pushed aside, though not of Henry’s choosing. I watched as he and Lady Catherine stood next to her parents, who would dance at the top of the minuet as the couple with the highest social standing. They were joined by several others in descending order of importance.
“Miss Conant?”
A gentleman appeared at my side. It was Lieutenant Addison.
“May I have this dance?” he asked, bowing.
I did not wish to stand on the edge of the ballroom to watch and gossip as the others would, so I nodded and offered a curtsy, then reached for his elbow. “I would be honored.”
His smile was wide and handsome as he led me onto the dance floor. Though he was often present on our property, helping where he could, I had tried to avoid him whenever possible. To purposely stand beside him now felt daring.
Henry’s gaze was upon us, and though I did not wish to make him jealous—if that were possible—I couldn’t deny that it felt good to be dancing in the same minuet as he and Lady Catherine.
“It saddens me that our paths do not cross more often,” the lieutenant said as we took our positions. “You’ve quite captivated my attention, Miss Conant. I often find myself admiring you from a distance.”
His words surprised me, and I stared at him. All I could think to say was, “Please, call me Libby.”
“And I’m James.”
James. It suited him.
He was a pleasant young man, though his red uniform was a constant reminder that he would soon become the enemy—if he wasn’t already.
The minuet began, and we bowed and curtsied to each other, performing the perfunctory steps to open the dance. Then Governor Dunmore and his wife started at the head of the line and danced their way down, past us, and then back up as we all watched. It was a lengthy process but a necessary part of the evening. Later, we would dance the country dances and the reel, which were much preferred by almost everyone in the room.
