The Lacemaker by Laura Frantz

The Lacemaker by Laura Frantz

Author:Laura Frantz
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical Romance;Love stories;Christian fiction;FIC042030;FIC027050;FIC042040
ISBN: 9781493412501
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2017-10-09T04:00:00+00:00


Liberty tucked Mama’s most recent letter in her commonplace book, which held practical things as well as more winsome ones. A worn sheet of music. Hastily penned poems. Pressed flowers. Prayers. Lace orders and merchants’ names. She’d purchased the scrapbook from the Norfolk bookbinder along with more ink from her first weeks’ wages.

Mister Southall had kindly given her an old desk, which left her remembering her former Queen Anne tucked beneath her bedchamber window at the townhouse. Though nicked and of inferior wood, the folly’s desktop was firm and smooth, and there was a shallow drawer with enough room for her commonplace book. A single candlestick graced a pewter holder, one of the Raleigh’s castoffs.

Oddly, she took pleasure in these hard-won things in a way she hadn’t the silver candelabra and leather-bound books of her former life. She had little now, but it was enough. Thalia brought her an extra serving of soup or bit of crusty bread from the Raleigh kitchen, and in turn she looked after Thalia’s wound.

Tonight a moth hovered near the candle flame as Liberty wrote down her orders in its pale light. Norfolk had been needy while Williamsburg stood aloof. She blew on the ink, for she lacked pounce, and left the book open to dry. Taking out Mama’s letter again she reread it slowly, dwelling on one aggravating line.

After much discussion with my hosts, we feel you must come immediately to Philadelphia. Virginia is naught but a powder keg.

Liberty folded up the letter and again hid it in her commonplace book, which she placed in the desk drawer. It was then she heard his voice. How many days since she’d seen him?

Thalia had told her there was to be a meeting of the Independence Men in one of the Raleigh’s private rooms. Liberty looked out the folly door with an anticipation that was hard to hide. Noble had finally come. He dismounted from his stallion in the alley, exchanging a few words with Billy before slipping inside the ordinary.

He’d not looked her way once.

Hurt bloomed beneath her tightly laced bodice. Suddenly self-conscious, she pulled off her lace cap, plucked the pins from her hair, and finger-combed the untidy tresses into a top knot at the crown of her head, then pinned her cap back into place. Having settled the matter of Isabeau’s indenture, would he now shun her as so many in Williamsburg did?

Pent up, she played the serinette, its airy notes jarring sourly with the lively fiddling in the taproom. Finally slipping out the door, she stepped into the humid twilight and took a turn about the garden, fan aflutter to keep insects away. A few paces took her to the back gate.

Why was she always drawn to Palace Green? Their townhouse had been so close while the Raleigh was a good quarter-hour walk to the Governor’s Palace. If she cut across the back onto Nicholson Street her way would be shorter . . .

As always, Williamsburg was bustling even at night. A great many Patriots lived within its boundaries, occupying a cross-section of a few streets.



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