Tears gathered again. I was so tired of crying. It seemed like it was all I had done for days.
“What happened once you were onboard the ship?”
I couldn’t look her in the eyes as shame and remorse filled every crevice of my being. But I had to tell her. I couldn’t keep it in another moment. “I felt wretched, so I told Lord Cumberland I wanted to go to bed. Edith accompanied me and helped me change into my night clothes, and then she retired to her own cabin. Hours later, after I fell asleep, Lord Cumberland returned, smelling like alcohol.” I closed my eyes, trying to forget yet knowing it would be impossible. I swallowed the hard lump in my throat. “I tried to stop him, Mama. I tried to tell him I was tired and ill and that I needed to sleep.” I shook myhead, embarrassment heating my cheeks. “But he would not listen. I cried for help, but no one came.”
I buried my face in Mama’s shoulder, my sobs too powerful to contain.
“Oh, Libby,” she said, her voice heavy. “I’m so sorry.”
It had been the most horrific event of my life, and I despised Lord Cumberland with all my heart and soul.
“I tried to stop him,” I said around gasps of air. “I promise I tried.”
“I know you did.” She ran her hand over my hair, tears in her voice. “It’s not your fault.”
It felt like my fault. There had to be something I could have done, something I could have said to stop it from happening. Mama had cautioned me to keep him at arm’s length.
“You mustn’t blame yourself for something out of your control.”
Mama’s words were comforting, but they did not penetrate the pain and resentment in my heart. I hadn’t even said good-bye to Mother Wells when I left the brownstone. I could not.
“What if—?” I choked on the words. What if there was a child? I couldn’t accept such a fate. I just couldn’t.
“Shh,” Mama said again. “Let’s take one day at a time. ’Tis all we can do for now.”
I lay there, my emotions completely spent. Though the body I possessed in 1774 had not been defiled, my heart had been broken. No matter which body I was in, I felt it in the very marrow of my bones.
“The day is calling,” Mama finally said. “I will send Mariah up with your breakfast and tell everyone you’re not feeling well. You may lie abed.”
I shook my head. “I cannot lie here with my thoughts all day. I’ll go mad.”
Mama nodded. “Then you must wash your face and dry your tears, for nothing is truly lost yet, Libby. We still have time.This has never been truer than today, but you must not let one life dictate the other. There’s work to be done here, and God is calling us to do it.”
I clung to her hope and determined then and there that even if I had to sleep in Edith’s cabin, I would not let Lord Cumberland touch me again.
With that resolve, I got dressed for the day. If Mama could stay up all through the night and still face her work, then I could, too. Today was the second day of the Virginia Convention. I needed to be present should there be news.
Breakfast was a hurried affair, since Mama and I were so late to arrive in the sitting room. After we finished eating, she went into the office to start our work, and I went to the printing room to look at the proof for a broadside.
Since it was Tuesday, Louis and Glen would be the only two in the printing room. Abraham was hauling supplies, since a shipment had recently come in at the Yorktown harbor.
But when I entered the printing room, Glen was not present. Only Louis stood over a wooden frame, placing type. He wore his leather apron, and his spectacles perched on the tip of his nose.
“Libby,” he said when he saw me enter. He straightened and went to the workbench near the door. “Here is the proof.”
I took it from him and examined it closely. Instead of going back to his work, he watched me, and when I could no longer stand his eyes upon me, I looked up. “Do you need something from me?”
“Nay.” He took off his spectacles and continued to study me.
“What is it?” I asked, setting down the proof, my irritation high.
“You look unhappy.”
I had washed my face as Mama instructed, but I could not shake the heaviness from my spirit. It hadn’t occurred to me that Louis would notice.
“I’m fine.” I picked up the proof again, trying to pretend what I said was true.
“I didn’t intend to hear your conversation yesterday,” he said, “just so you know. I had come to inquire about an edit I made. I’m not an eavesdropper.”
