HONOR. IN VIRGINIA it wasn’t merely a matter of masculine pride—it was a matter of survival. Every loan for the farm, every advance of credit for seeds and foodstuffs, every public office and proposal of marriage depended on honor.
Men would fight and die for it.
And women would lie for it.
Which is why, whenever asked about the rumors about Nancy and Richard—as I was, more and more often that spring—I dismissed it as an absurd story having no merit.
If only others had done the same.
When Tom learned there were white witnesses, he flew into a rage that had him slamming about the house, heaping undeserved abuse on every servant he passed. And whenever he heard Richard’s name, he cursed in the most obscene manner possible. Egged on by his younger brother, Tom determined to ride out and rescue Nancy from the clutches of her seducer, who must be made to confess and suffer the loss of his honor.
Tom said it often, and to everyone who’d listen, which struck me as madness, for it fueled the gossip.
But then, the entire world had gone mad.
The new revolutionary government in France had charged Lafayette with treason. A galling notion—the very idea of Lafayette being a traitor to the revolution he helped start was an unjust, enraging indignity! More ridiculous and horrifying was that in attempting to escape arrest, Lafayette had been caught by counterrevolutionary forces, who also deemed him a traitor.
He was, as of the last news we had, in a dungeon awaiting execution.
Even consumed at Monticello with chores, child rearing, and family scandal, I couldn’t seem to shake the violence this news did to my faith in the revolution. What knaves had come to power in France that they could turn on Lafayette?
Perhaps the same sort of knaves who hounded my father in the papers, savaging his ethics, and twisting every word that flowed from his pen . . .
That’s why I wasn’t surprised when Papa wrote to tell me that he couldn’t resign for fear his enemies would say he was driven out of office or that Washington had no confidence in him. Or they’d say that he ran from public office like he ran from the British.
No, he couldn’t be seen to leave under a cloud.
I was brooding about this while making bayberry wax candles, Tom’s favorite, because of its pleasant fragrance. It soothed him, he said, and he clearly needed soothing, given the way his boots banged heavily into the cellar kitchen where I prepared the wicks.
Arms crossed over his chest, as if he could scarcely contain his pounding heart, Tom growled out, “Richard dared to show his face at Tuckahoe, the shameless cur!”
Shameless indeed for the seducer to have visited the home of his victim’s father and brothers, I thought. Reckless, even. It wouldn’t have surprised me to hear Colonel Randolph had pulled a pistol on him. “What did he have to say for himself?”
Tom threw out his arms. “Richard asked—nay, demanded—that we stop accusing him of despoiling our sister’s purity!”
Let it never be said that the Randolphs—any of them—lacked in boldness.
While I let out a surprised puff of air, Tom ranted on. “Richard first insisted it was all a malicious lie. He claimed Nancy’s virtue is still intact and that if we wanted to preserve her reputation, we ought to all keep quiet and join a slander suit against anyone who’d spread the tale.”
“Perhaps that’s best,” I ventured. “If the family doesn’t rally around your sister and profess a belief in her innocence, Nancy will be ruined.”
“She is ruined!” Tom exploded, his voice echoing off the ceiling. “When my father refused, Richard tried his next gambit. He has a letter written by Nancy confessing her pregnancy and naming a dead man as her seducer. Her letter allegedly says Theo was the father, the child was stillborn, and she absolves Richard of all culpability.”
I gasped that Nancy should put such a confession to paper, then flushed to remember that I’d suggested Theo as her seducer in the first place. Poor deluded Nancy must have determined that if she couldn’t save herself she’d save her lover instead. “You have the letter?”
Tom’s hand flexed at his side, then balled in a tight fist. “Rich ard kept it and intends to vindicate himself on a field of honor. He’s called out my brother.”
Icy dread rushed through my veins. “Your brother will duel over this?”
“No. My brother won’t give Richard the satisfaction of pretending he’s an equal or a man of honor. But I swear, if Richard Randolph tries to transfer the stigma and evade blame, I will wash out the stain on my family honor with his blood.”