Free Heirs of Acadia - 02 - The Innocent Libertine by T. Davis Bunn Page A

few steps ahead of her own feet. But she could feel their ire. Of course they were upset. The broadsheets loyal to the Crown were using her presence in the theatre to condemn them all. The king’s allies within the press continued to lambaste the Dissenters for the actions they claimed she had done. The congregants at the chapel she had attended since childhood treated her as a stranger. As one who did not belong.
    Now the parlor doors creaked open. The voice she had known since childhood exclaimed, “My dear Samuel, how good it is to see you again.” And Wilberforce himself came into the room, obviously fully recovered from his recent bout of illness.
    Abigail rose with the others but kept her face downcast. She heard her father say, “I wish I could say I am glad to be home, William.”
    “Yes, yes, I do understand. Lavinia, my dear. How lovely to have you back in my home once more.”
    “How are you feeling, William? I understand you have been unwell.”
    “Indeed, yes, but it has passed, as it always does. So let us not dwell on it any longer.” The diminutive figure moved over to where his bright eyes could peer up into Abigail’s own. He patted her arm and said simply, “Hello, my dear.”
    She bit her lip and curtsied. His unspoken sympathy was a lance to her heart.
    “Come, come, are we not friends? Let us relax and talk as such. Look, here is Cook with tea. And she has made her special shortbread. I find it quite the most delicious shortbread I have ever tasted. Lavinia, perhaps you will be so kind as to pour for us.”
    Abigail accepted her cup but did not taste it. She could not have swallowed just then. She could not capture all of what was being said. Mostly she heard the tones. William Wilberforce spoke in a warm and diplomatic manner. Her father responded with hard dignity. Her mother sounded resigned and sad.
    Her father’s words abruptly came into focus. “I am mightily surprised that you would ask such a question, William. How has she damaged me? What am I without my reputation, without my standing in the community?”
    “Forgive me, old friend. But it seems from where I stand that the foment is being caused by His Majesty’s minions and rumormongers, not your dear daughter.”
    “Only because she has supplied them with ammunition.” Samuel Aldridge’s words thudded like stones in the sunlit room. “They are attacking you and all our causes as well because of this. A fact certainly you are aware of.”
    Abigail’s thoughts drifted away, carried by Wilberforce’s soothing response. Her father’s words had become a painful litany, one she heard even when he was not around. One she heard even in her dreams.
    Then she realized William Wilberforce had spoken to her. She was so startled she looked up before she could catch herself. Her father sat across the room from her. They were as far apart as they had ever been in her entire life, it seemed. His gaze was dark and brooding, his brow so furrowed his eyes seemed to want to join together and bore straight through her. Her mother sat in a straight-backed settee and stared at nothing.
    “Forgive me,” Abigail said. She wanted to continue and say that she had not heard what had been spoken. But her throat clenched up tight.
    “I was just telling your dear parents of the conversation we began the other day. And how I had been unable to continue because of my ailment. But how fascinating it was for me, my dear. And how illuminating.” Wilberforce chatted on with the ease of one who noticed nothing whatsoever wrong with the day or the scene. “I was wondering if I might ask you to continue now.”
    She dropped her eyes and shook her head. Not that. Surely.
    “Oh, do please. It is so vexing when my illnesses lay me low. I have thought of little else since our talk. I would so very much like to know how it would have continued had I been in better form.”
    The silence dominated for a long and heavy moment. Then her father said, “Do proceed,