I wanted to lash out at his comment, but Mama’s grip on my arm tightened and I held my tongue. I had little sway with him or anyone else in Williamsburg simply because I was a woman. Even when Papa had been too ill to run the press and I had taken over, very few people would deal with me. Since his death, it had become even worse.
“You’ve been warned,” Mister Randolph said, handing over a piece of paper. “If you do not pay what is owed by the end of this month, you will either face debtor’s prison or be forced to indenture one of your household to Mister Jennings for the sum owed.”
“I want the girl,” Mister Jennings said to Mister Randolph.
The lawyer didn’t respond to his client but merely put his hat on and left the sitting room.
Mister Jennings followed in his footsteps. “You said I could have the girl.”
After the front door slammed shut, Mama sat on one of the Windsor chairs and put her face in her ink-stained hands, wilting like a parched flower.
“He cannot do either,” I said, trying to alleviate our fears.
“He can and he will.” Mama looked up at me. “Where is news of the burgesses’ decision? It should have come by now.”
I paced to the window, feeling helpless in the face of our debt. With Papa’s passing, we had lost many of our newspaper subscribers and advertisers. Yet we were not without hope. Mama had applied for the public printing contract, which would ensuresome income. But four others—all men—had also applied for the contract.
“I cannot wait here for the news,” I said to her as I left the sitting room and took my bonnet off the front hook. “I shall walk to the capitol and see what has been decided.”
Without waiting for Mama to comment, I pushed open the door. She would caution me to stay and await a messenger, but I could not.
The bell on the door rang as I stepped into the warm day. Spring had unfolded its gentle arms around Williamsburg, and like any good embrace, it tried to warm my soul and comfort me. Yet little had given me solace lately—both here and in my other path.
Hundreds of people walked in and out of the businesses lining Duke of Gloucester Street. Coaches, wagons, and single riders clogged the usually quiet capital. Overnight, it seemed, Williamsburg had doubled in size with the arrival of the representatives of the House of Burgesses. The assembly had convened that morning at the governor’s request, which was why we anticipated news soon.
Would I even see Henry in this commotion? For surely Henry was the one who would bring me the news.
I walked with purpose toward the capitol, taking note of the people passing me. As the editor of theVirginia Gazette, it was my job to know as much as possible about the people and the events transpiring in and around Williamsburg. I had to fight to learn the news, since I was rarely invited to the gatherings my male counterparts attended. But no matter how much they learned, I knew so much more than any of them could ever imagine about the events that would soon transpire.
I knew these things because I lived two lives simultaneously—one in 1774 and one in 1914. When I fell asleep in one path, I woke up in the other, back and forth, with no time passing in either one while I was away. It had been this way since the dayI was born. But all of that would change on my twenty-first birthday when I was given the choice to forfeit one path and stay in the other forever.
I already knew which one I would choose.
I approached the Raleigh Tavern, halfway between my home and the capitol, and finally saw him.
Henry Montgomery.
He strode down the street toward me, two other burgesses flanking him. They were deep in conversation and did not see me. I recognized Mister George Washington, who had served in the House of Burgesses for many years, and Mister Thomas Jefferson, who had been added just five years before. They were both powerful men and, I knew from my life in 1914, would both go on to become famous Founding Fathers, American presidents, and important figures in the history of the United States. I still marveled every day that I was here, watching history unfold with my own eyes. And I knew exactly how much work and sacrifice these men had before them.
But I did not know anything about Henry’s future. For reasons unknown to me, his name was not one I heard repeated in my other path, and I did not try to discover why. I could not. It was one of the many things Mama had warned me about since I was young: never search for answers about either path. If God wanted me to know, I would know. And I must not, for any reason, try to change either path with the foreknowledge I might obtain. To do so meant I would forfeit the path I tried to alter.
Something I feared almost daily, for I did not want to give up 1774.
“Miss Conant,” Mister Jefferson said upon seeing me, his brown-haired tie wig peeking out from beneath his tricorne hat. He stopped and gave me a bow, lifting his hat from his head. Elegance and masculinity emanated from his every move. He was a handsome man, and he wielded it. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
“And you, Mister Jefferson.”
Both Henry and Mister Washington offered me a bow as they removed their hats. I curtsied and caught Henry’s eye, my heart beating faster at the sight of him.
He stood shoulder to shoulder with these two large and imposing men. His legs and arms were well-formed beneath his tailored breeches and waistcoat. Life on board the merchant schooners his family owned had shaped him into a fine-looking man. But it was his handsome face—or rather, his eyes, which were a shade of blue I had never seen in anyone else—that had captivated me since I was a child.
“I was just on my way to see you,” Henry said to me, slipping his hat under his arm. His chestnut-brown hair was clubbed at the back. He was one of the few men I knew who did not wear a wig or hair powder.
“I hope you have good news.” Mama and I needed some good news right now, though I held on to my hope with a loose grasp.
“Aye.”
He smiled, as did Mister Jefferson and Mister Washington, and I knew it was good news indeed. Relief washed over me, making my legs feel weak and shaky.
