“Are you on your way home?” Henry asked. “May I walk with you?”
I nodded eagerly, longing to hear him confirm the news.
“We will meet you back here,” Mister Washington said to Henry. “We have much to discuss.” He bowed again in my direction. “I hope you’ll save me a dance at the governor’s ball tonight, Miss Conant.”
“The ball?”
“As our new public printer,” Mister Jefferson said, “your invitation will be forthcoming.”
Mister Jefferson and Mister Washington bowed and left us to enter the tavern.
I turned to Henry. “The public printer?”
“Aye.” The grin that lit his face almost made me forget about everything else. “Your mother’s petition to become the public printer has been accepted.”
I briefly closed my eyes, thanking God for His provision. It could not come at a better time.
“I daresay Washington felt liable for your family, in a way,” Henry said as we began to walk. “After all, he was the one who asked your father to leave Maryland and set up his print shop in Williamsburg.”
“Idaresay Mama deserves the contract,” I countered, teasing and reprimanding my old friend, not wanting to believe Mister Washington would take pity upon us. “She works harder than anyone I know. I would hope we won the contract on our own merit.”
“You have both done well in light of your hardships,” Henry agreed. “Though we’re well aware she could not do it without you. It was because she listed you as co-owner of the press that your bid won in a tight vote. You’ve earned the respect of several burgesses, Libby, but there are those who would see you fail.”
Emotion clogged my throat as the reality of this decision settled on me. The endless hours I had worked these past months had taken an enormous mental and physical toll, not to mention the toll it had taken on my personal life. There had not been time for courting or pursuing a husband as many of my friends had done. And the one man I would pursue—Henry—had been out of my reach for years.
I straightened my back and lifted my chin. I could not show the strain to Henry or anyone else. I must be as strong and relentless as the businessmen around me—and even more so.
“’Tis good to see you again, Libby.”
“’Tis good to see you too, Henry.”
“How long has it been?”
“Christmastide, surely,” I responded, knowing full well that we had not seen each other since Christmas Day at BrutonParish Church. Our interactions were few, but whenever I saw him, all time passed from my thoughts, and I was cast back to our early years together.
“I’m sorry to have missed your father’s funeral.” Henry’s voice was low and filled with concern. “If there’s anything—”
“Thank you.” I stopped him from making an offer that would embarrass me. Papa had been sick for years, and we had been ready for his death—if one can be ready for such things.
“I heard you put a paper to press the day he passed.” Henry didn’t hide his admiration or surprise. “A remarkable feat, surely one that would silence any naysayers.”
I tried not to think about those who had slandered our good name since Papa’s passing. Losing him was a devastating blow, but it was made worse by men who assumed we were incapable of running the press now that he was gone. But what choice did Mama and I have? If we stopped printing, we would be destitute. The very thought of debtor’s prison—or worse, my sisters being indentured to the likes of Mister Jennings—had driven me every waking moment. I had much to prove as an editor and businesswoman—and even more as a sister and daughter. I could not fail.
“How was the first session?” I asked, ready to change the subject.
His face turned somber, and his gaze hardened as he stared straight ahead. For almost a decade, tensions had been building with England and had finally come to a head just this past December during the famed Boston Tea Party. Word had arrived within the past weeks that the British Parliament had passed the Boston Port Act and planned to close the port of Boston on the first of June. Parliament would keep it closed until the local merchants repaid the lost revenue from the ninety thousand pounds of tea tossed into Boston Harbor.
“We will show solidarity with Boston,” Henry said with certainty.
“How?”
“’Tis not my place to share our plan until we’ve gained enough support to pass it in the house. But do not fear.” He smiled at me. “As our duly-elected public printer, you will be the first to know.”
We arrived back at the print shop far too soon.
“Would you like to join us for supper?” I asked, though we had scarcely enough to feed ourselves, let alone a guest.
He shook his head, his gaze resting on my face, and I wondered if he enjoyed seeing me again as much as I enjoyed seeing him. He had always been the kindest boy I knew and had grown into a man of good reputation. I had known since I was young that he would marry someone of his own social standing, and there were rumors that the bride had already been chosen.
