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under her dark lashes.  Louisa suspected that the girl had more spirit than she was willing to show.
    “How old are you, Agnes?”  By the looks of her she couldn’t be more than twelve.
    “I am fifteen, Miss.”
    “Why do you want to go to America, Agnes?  You seem to have a fine place here with your aunt.”
    “I would like to see something o’ the world, Miss, and I would much prefer to be a maid to one lady to working as a chambermaid at the inn.”  Agnes looked away again, her fingers pleating the fabric of her apron.  “I’d like to be indentured to ye.”
    “Indentured?”  Louisa hadn’t expected that.
    “Yes, Miss.  I would feel safer that way.”  Louisa studied the girl.  She supposed it would be all right if that’s what she wanted.  The idea of actually owning the girl for several years was distasteful, but from Agnes’s point of view, it probably guaranteed her a form of security.  Louisa would be responsible for her well-being, and that would make Agnes feel less apprehensive about traveling across the Atlantic.  If only Louisa could feel less apprehensive herself.
    “All right, then, Agnes.  The ship sails on Friday, so you have a few days to prepare.”
    “Aye, Miss. Thank ye ever so kindly, Miss.  I will bring up the contract when I come back to collect the tray.  I can read and write,” she added proudly as she left the room. 
    Louisa lifted the lid off the bowl and studied the oyster stew.  She had to admit that it smelled very appetizing .  She picked up the wooden spoon and took an experimental bite.  The stew was actually very good, and Louisa finished it all and washed it down with the bitter ale that Mrs. Fairley had sent up.  She had no idea what to do between supper and bedtime, and sat back down on the bed wondering how people passed their time in the evening.  Tomorrow she would have breakfast and go explore Plymouth.  She had four days until the ship sailed, and she meant to put them to good use. 

Chapter 8
     
    Louisa feared the night.  That’s when the panic came.  It began gradually as a tightening in her belly and the accelerated beating of her heart; and progressed to a full-blown anxiety attack, as the shadows of the early evening finally deepened into the impenetrable darkness of night.  Louisa would have given anything for the oblivion of sleep, but it wouldn’t come.  Instead, her mind buzzed with countless frightening thoughts, brought on by her forays into Plymouth.  What would become of her if she didn’t find Valerie? 
    Mr. Taylor had been absolutely right to question her sanity.  No amount of books or movies could have prepared Louisa for the reality of life in the seventeenth century.  She had spent the past few days exploring the town, and she grew more scared every day.  She expected the poverty of the lower classes and the unsanitary conditions, but what she didn’t expect was her own lack of a future.  Louisa spent most of her time observing the women as she went into the heart of Plymouth and walked the streets, wanting to know what life was really like for them.  
    As a woman born in the twentieth century, Louisa was used to the idea that she could do anything; be anything.  The sky was the limit to what she could achieve, or the amount of money she could earn.  She didn’t need a man to take care of her.  She wanted a partner to love and eventually build a family with.  This world was vastly different.  As a single woman, with no husband or male relative to protect her, Louisa was like a piece of driftwood afloat in an ocean of humanity.  She didn’t belong to anyone, and no one belonged to her, and sooner or later that would destroy her.  If she didn’t find her sister, eventually her money would run out, and she would have to make a place for herself in this cruel world. 
    As far as she could see , there were very few choices for women.  A woman could get married, which was the most desirable path for most