Independent Skeptic

William paced back and forth, running his hand through his thinning hair which he had unceremoniously freed from an over-powdered wig. Mostly he muttered to himself, but at any moment he might stop and expect Mary to actually listen to his ranting. She tried to keep her focus on him, but out of the corner of her eye she watched Bede cleaning up the tea service. Mary had not wanted to bring Elizabeth Lanham's serving woman to Philadelphia, but somehow William had talked her into it. 

"They just don't understand that everything has changed," Paca moaned. "And my god John Adams is at me at all times about Maryland's indecisiveness."

"Is Maryland being indecisive? It seems we've always thought it best to remain in the good graces of England." Mary glanced back at Bede. "Come right back after you've taken the tea service to the kitchens. Our travel clothes are in need of repairs." Mary did not trust Bede to be out of her sight for long. That woman wanted independence just as much as the men. And she could try to get it.

"Old Bacon Face thinks the Maryland Convention is out of touch with what Marylanders really want," Wililam continued. "We've begged them to survey the counties. We're certain the Maryland people want us to vote for independence, but our convention won't release us to do so."

William settled into a chair before the cold fireplace and shuffled through papers he had scattered on the side table. Mary recognized a pamphlet, Common Sense, something everyone was talking about but no one seemed to have. She had chosen not to read it. Elizabeth Lanham would certainly have read it. And Anne Green. And Mary Halstead. Mary Paca felt the familiar tightness in her gut that developed whenever she thought of Annapolis threesome. She had never been welcomed into their friendship circle. Perhaps because she did not read like they did. Perhaps because she did not harbor opinions on matters like taxes and representation. Perhaps because Elizabeth Lanham was sleeping with her husband. 

Mary shook the irritating thoughts from her head and focused on the clothes she had carefully laid across the bed. Her travel coat was torn at the hem and mud-splattered from the road. William's left boot needed to be re-soled, something she could not expect Bede to handle. But she could clean off the dirt and buff the boots to a better shine. And she could mend the lace that had torn from William's shirtsleeve. It would keep the woman busy. As if summoned by Mary's thoughts, Bede quietly returned to the room. She listened silently as Mary gave her instructions and did not flinch when Mary 'accidentally' stuck her with a sewing pin. 

Mary turned her attention back to her anxious husband, standing behind his chair, she rubbed at the tension in his shoulders. She was about to say...something...about independence or loyalty or something...when Sam Chase, Old Bacon Face himself, came barreling into the room. 

"We can vote!" he yelled, his scratchy voice far too loud with enthusiasm. "We can vote!" William jumped up, reaching this way and that, trying to catch the paper Sam waved above his head. 

"Independence?" William finally caught the paper and read eagerly. "Independence! Maryland votes for independence!"

William and Sam embraced, laughing hysterically to the point of tears. More than a decade of fight and they had finally won. The writing, the speechifying, the protesting. They had finally won. To break from England. Mary inhaled deeply. It was the right answer on the day, but even she, largely unaware of political implications, understood that danger lay ahead.

Mary glanced at Bede sewing silently in the corner and surely taking in each and every word. Her attention returned to her husband and his friend, neither of whom noticed her in their exuberance. She reached out and touched William's sleeve.

"Congratulations, husband," she smiled. He hugged her, tightly she thought, then released her wrapping his arm around Old Bacon Face and nearly dancing out of the room.

William would have a more enthusiastic celebration with Elizabeth Lanham upon their return to Annapolis. Of that she was certain.

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