All the way to the capitol building, I found myself praying—not for the outcome, but as a way to release my burden to God. I prayed for the convention, though I knew how it would end, and for my life in 1914, because I did not know how it would end.
I had tried everything I could to get out of the marriage to Lord Cumberland, and since I had failed thus far, perhaps it was God’s will that it proceed. I didn’t know why God would choose for me to marry the marquess, but there had to be a reason—wasn’t there? Or was all of my life just a meaningless collection of days and years?
The words of Jeremiah the prophet came to me, and I said them under my breath as I crossed the street to walk down the opposite direction, back toward the Raleigh. “‘For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.’”
My life was not meaningless. God had an expected end in mind. He had marked out all my days in both paths. Yes, I had choices to make, but I had submitted to His will years ago, choosing to trust Him with all my heart. All I could do was beseech Him to lead me on the right path and trust that He would.
Just ahead, the Raleigh Tavern loomed. It was a large establishment by Williamsburg’s standards, but it was even larger in my imagination. It was one of the most important places in American history and would play a part in the outcome of democracy.
A group of men exited the building as I approached, including George Washington and Henry Montgomery, among others. They stood for a moment, chatting, before they disbanded and started to go their separate ways. I smiled at several gentlemen in passing and found Henry standing at the end of the sidewalk, waiting for me.
A genuine look of pleasure filled his face as he removed his hat. “Good afternoon, Libby.”
“Good afternoon, Henry.” I glanced at the Raleigh. “Have you adjourned for the evening?”
“Aye.” He nodded down the street. “May I walk with you?”
“You may.”
I recalled, in vivid detail, the last time we walked together on my birthday. I had thought about it so many times that I could have recited our conversation word for word. Had he thought about that evening?
Two of Governor Dunmore’s soldiers exited a tavern nearby, their bright red coats blinding in the summer sunshine. They tipped their hats in greeting, and though I didn’t know them,they appeared to recognize Henry. He greeted them but did not stop to speak.
We walked in silence for a moment. Finally, Henry said, “I have felt like a fool since the last time we parted.”
“A fool?” I stopped under the arm of an ancient oak and faced him. The street was quiet this close to suppertime.
“You asked me a simple question the night of your birthday, and I did not give you a simple answer.” He watched me with a gentle expression. “I fear I may have left you feeling uncertain and more confused than necessary.”
“’Tis true, I’ll grant you,” I responded. “But you don’t owe me an explanation.”
“Nay, I disagree.” He continued walking, and I followed at his side. “I hold you in the highest regard, Libby. I want to put your mind at ease and tell you that I am not doing anything I am not proud of.”
A smile tugged at my cheeks despite the seriousness of our conversation. “That doesnotput my mind at ease, nor does it eliminate any of my suspicions.”
“Nay.” He smiled. “I suppose it does not.” He grew more serious. “But I must keep my own counsel in these matters. Just know that I will not lie to you.”
We had come to the printing shop and stopped on the front walk. There was no one within earshot, but I still said the next words on the breath of a whisper. “Can you answer one question?”
“I will try.”
“Are you working for the Patriots or against them?” I held my breath, waiting for his answer.
His eyes were such a magnificent color of blue. “The Patriots’ cause is the cause of all men, and I will help win independence or die trying.”
I took a step toward him, pride in my heart and in my voice. “Then whatever you are doing, I trust you and I support you, and I will be praying for you.”
“You cannot know how much your words mean to me.” He took my hand in his and pressed it to his lips. “I will carry them with me for as long as I fight.”
“Would you like to join us for supper?” I wanted him to stay more than anything.
He glanced down the street toward the Palace Green. As far as I knew, he had come to Williamsburg alone and would not have his family waiting for him.
“Your mother wouldn’t mind?” he asked.
“Nay. You could tell us what was discussed at the convention.”
A smile lifted his lips, and he nodded.
