“Death?” I shook my head until it ached. “How can death be the best thing for Henry?”
“I don’t know, Libby, but we must trust God. There are some things too mysterious for us to understand. We are not meant to know all the answers. Only God is, and He calls us to trust and believe that He is doing what is best.”
I couldn’t accept what she was saying. It didn’t make sense.
Mama took my hands. “Libby, please don’t do this. I know what’s on your mind, but you’ll forfeit this life—today. If you try to stop Henry, all you’ll accomplish is your own death before its time.”
“I’m only losing three weeks.” But as the words fell from my mouth, I knew how wretched they sounded.
“Three weeks is three weeks.” She pressed my hands tight, as if she wouldn’t let me go. “You have work to finish here—and I’m not ready to say good-bye.”
My hands trembled and my heart pounded, but I knew what I must do. “If it means sparing Henry from a horrible death,then I must sacrifice those three weeks. It’s the least I can do when so many others are doing so much more.”
“It’s not just your own sacrifice. We don’t know what else might happen. If Henry doesn’t go to Boston, how will that affect the rest of history? What will change if he isn’t there?”
None of it mattered. I couldn’t let Henry die this way, not if I had the power to stop it.
I rose on trembling legs and pulled my hands from Mama’s grasp.
“Libby,” she pleaded, tears streaming down her cheeks, “don’t do this.”
“I’m sorry.” I walked down the steps and stopped at the bottom to look back at her. “I must.”
The sun had just crested the horizon when I stepped out our front door. As I walked, I pulled my shawl tighter around my shoulders, feeling the early morning chill deeper than usual.
I hadn’t been to Henry’s home on the Palace Green since that rainy evening so many months ago, and I wasn’t certain I would be welcome if his father or mother was there. The House of Burgesses had not been called to convene this year, but many people had still come into Williamsburg for the spring activities. I wasn’t even sure Henry was home. His note said he’d come by to see me today before he left for Boston, but that didn’t mean he was already in Williamsburg. Yet I could not sit around the print shop all day and wait for him. This was too important to put off, and if I had stayed at home, Mama would have found a way to convince me not to do this.
My heart ached for her, but it ached for Henry more. He didn’t deserve to die, and if I could prevent it from happening, I had to.
There was little movement on Duke of Gloucester Street as I walked toward the Palace Green. A stray dog trotted across my path, and a rooster crowed in a nearby coop. Someonestepped outside to shake a rug, and a man ambled down the street as if he’d been drinking all night and hadn’t yet gone home.
Soon I turned onto the Palace Green. The Montgomerys’ house was on the left, near the Governor’s Palace. My heart pounded as I walked up the steps to the front door. My courage almost failed me when I reached up to knock, but then I thought about Henry hanging from the end of a noose, and I banged hard upon the door.
It took several minutes, but Stanley finally answered the door. “Miss Libby! How can I help you this morning?”
“I’ve come to see Henry. Is he at home? It’s very important.”
He nodded quickly. “He’s at home, but I don’t know if he’s prepared to receive visitors.”
“Could you please tell him I’m here to see him? I’ll wait outside until he’s ready.”
“You don’t want to come in?”
I shook my head, not wanting to risk seeing Lord and Lady Ashbury.
Stanley seemed to understand, and he nodded as he closed the door.
I stepped off the stoop and paced along the dirt road in front of the grey house, my hands on my hips. I didn’t allow myself to think about why I’d come, afraid I would lose the courage to talk to Henry.
The palace was quiet. Across the green, the open theater was empty, and up and down the road, there was nothing but birds and squirrels to keep me company. I was happy for the lack of activity. I needed to speak to Henry in private—especially because this would be the last time I’d ever see him.
I stopped to catch my breath as emotions overwhelmed me. How would I say good-bye to him?
A few minutes later, the front door opened and he was there, concern tilting his eyebrows together. It struck me that if Ididn’t do something, he would only be alive for three more weeks. Anxiety compelled me toward him.
“Libby,” he said as he came down the steps, adjusting his waistcoat, “what are you doing here?”
“We need to speak.” I looked around for a place of privacy, but seeing none, I asked, “Will you walk with me?”
