As Angelica tossed from side to side of the velvet-covered seat of a carriage, she found herself cursing the streets of Paris.
Say what you will about London, but at least it didn't have this many potholes, she thought with a grimace.
She had already been in a sour mood prior to this reckless carriage ride. Earlier that day her dear husband had practically thrown her out of her study-with no warning, at that-to prepare for a banquet she hadn't known was today. She had raced down the hall to her closet, picked out the first ball gown she had laid eyes on, changed, and did her hair in record time. Still, by the time she reached the bottom of the stairs, her husband was red in the face and gripping his cane with white knuckles, a telltale sign that he was getting a little hysterical.
After all, John Church was not a man to miss political appearances. Or in this case, be a few minutes late to one.
And heaven forbid we be a bit late to anything.
It was times like these where Angelica pondered how she had wound up in this situation at all. She had been young when John had asked her to marry him. Maybe a little too naïve, too.
In her defense, John had fulfilled a dream of the ideal husband, a dream she now knew was just an illusion. He was rich so she could support herself and her family. He was in elite social circles, which meant she would remain in them. He had been charming and articulate at one point.
If she couldn't marry Alexander like she so desired, John was a suitable alternative. He was a gentleman and an important political figure.
She should have known something would have to give at some point.
Angelica's face must have been pretty scrunched up in thought, because John took notice.
"Something wrong, dearest?"
Angelica was snapped out of her thoughts. She just shook her head, not wanting to worsen the contempt that was boiling in the pits of her stomach. Her face must not have been very convincing, thought, because he sighed and continued speaking.
"I know our departure was a bit rough, but this banquet is very important to me. I know you hold your studies dear, but to what merit? A woman only needs a certain degree of knowledge. Too much and you could be overwhelmed, like today."
Angelica felt her teeth grinding together, but she didn't care. She had heard this practiced speech before, of course. Particularly when she had dedicated a room of the house to her studies, much to John's annoyance.
His speech had eventually gone away and he learned to accept her voracity for knowledge. Now that this particular speech had made a return, she found herself loosing patience.
"It wasn't my studies that made us late, dearest, it was your failure to inform me that this was today. It's as if you forgot about me." She said with a particular stinging look at the word 'forgot'.
Now that she was alone with John and had his attention, she figured she might as well continue ranting.
"It's been becoming more and more common for you to brush me under the rug until your little gatherings, and I-"
"Don't be silly darling, I would never forget about my beautiful wife."
If that was the best he had to shut her up, she wasn't going to dignify it with a response, even if her silence was what he wanted. Perhaps she would embarrass him at the banquet.
As her mind started to wander to how she would do just that, the carriage lurched to a stop and Angelica was flung from her seat onto John. She quickly got up, not wanting to be so close to him.
They both stepped down from the carriage and into one of the biggest ball rooms Angelica had ever seen. The first thing she noticed was the peculiar colored walls-a powder blue that she knew Eliza would have adored. Every other detail was accented in white, and everyone seemed to conform to that particular color scheme.
She looked down suddenly to check if she was as well. She was wearing a particularly striking red gown. She looked at John, who donned a navy blue suit, and who was currently glowering at her dress as if it were a rodent the carriage had run over.
She sighed and turned her chin up. She had thought about embarrassing John anyways, and he hadn't given her the time or notice to pick something more appropriate.
John offered his arm all the same, which Angelica took with only slight hesitation. He was muttering to himself after he tore his eyes away from her dress, not much of which Angelica heard, but one didn't have to be a genius to figure out the gist of what he was saying.
They approached the arched entryway and Angelica heard the familiar call of their names.
"Mr. and Mrs. Church!"
They walked forward, both painting on happy, elegant appearances. Angelica was used to stares, her normal appearance commanded them. She knew these stares were because of her apparel, but she tried to convince herself they were the same stares as in London.
They walked along the outskirts of the room, John talking to important noblemen, Angelica smiling radiantly and laughing at the right moments. Only the more observant guests saw the disinterest and disgust in her eyes.
The whole thing felt like a con to Angelica.
After about an hour of this, Angelica knew she couldn't hold the act much longer. She quickly used the first excuse to come to mind.
"Darling, these shoes might as well be eating my feet!" she exclaimed with a laugh, which the surrounding party echoed. "I think I'll excuse myself for a while to sit."
She didn't miss the flicker of annoyance that appeared in his eyes as he replied, "don't be too long, dear", and then turned back to his conversation.
She pulled a chair for herself at one of the tables farther away from most of the guests and sat down. She scanned the room, not entirely sure what she was looking for. Her eyes settled on the people dancing in the center of the room and she felt a flicker of jealousy when she spotted a young and absolutely beaming couple. She pushed the pang further inside herself, knowing she could never have that.
It was a child's wish.
Not a moment later, she felt a rather firm tap on her shoulder. She turned around to see the most shocking looking man she had ever seen.
And shocking was really the only word she could think to describe him.
The stranger, like herself, was wearing something outrageous for this particular ball: a waistcoat in a startling shade of magenta. His wild curls surrounded his face, uncontained. On his face he wore the most self-assured smirk she had ever seen. She also saw the large crowd congregated behind him. All of their eyes were trained on him.
"May I have the next dance, madam?" he asked, with no introduction or fake conversation topics. And without dropping the smirk.
Angelica noted how his southern accent stood out against the majority of French accents in the room and couldn't contain her bewilderment and slight curiousiy.
"I'm sorry, but who are you?"
His smirk only faltered a moment before it grew into an amused grim. The crowd behind him listening to their conversation looked horrified.
"Thomas Jefferson, pleasure to make your acquaintance." He gave a bow that she thought was a little mocking.
"Thomas Jefferson?"
She stood abruptly from her chair. The crowd behind him burst into laughter, but she was too startled to care. She wasn't sure what to say so she stuck out her hand.
"Angelica Church."
Jefferson's eyes flickered from her face to her hand and then finally back to meet her eyes before taking her hand. She could tell he wasn't used to being greeted by women in such a way, and she almost laughed out loud at the expression on his little crowd's faces.
She had once told her sisters that when she met Thomas Jefferson she would compel him to include women in the sequel of their nation, and she wasn't about to let them down.
To answer your question, Mr. Jefferson, I would like to talk if that's alright with you."
His face fell a little, but only for a millisecond.
"Nonsense, we'll talk after we dance."
She opened her mouth to protest, but he took her arm and she found herself being led to the dance floor.
She supposed one dance wouldn't hurt.
As it turned out, Thomas Jefferson liked to show off, much like a certain brother in law she knew. Even though the dance was a simple 3-step, he added in extra steps and dipped her more times than she could count.
Angelica felt herself struggling to keep up, but her stubbornness refused to let him outdo her, so she kept step with his ridiculous dancing and actually found herself enjoying it. They moved around the room in a flash of magenta and red in the sea of blue and white.
She felt a laugh bubbling in her chest; Thomas was grinning a big, stupid grin.
As the band slowed things down, so did they.
"I must say, you are a wonderful dancer Mrs. Church."
"You as well, Mr. Jefferson. I honestly wouldn't have suspected it of you, of all people."
Angelica smiled a genuine smile. She wasn't beaming, but these days, it was rare to see a genuine smile on her face.
"Funny, that's what most people say." He said as he dipped her again.
Angelica rolled her eyes.
"So, Mr. Jefferson, I hear the war in America will be ending soon. I can't help but wonder how we're going to do things differently than our Tory neighbors."
Thomas merely chuckled.
"Yes, yes, you see dear, we'll be able to vote, and taxes won't be nearly as dreadful." He said in a slightly condescending tone.
Angelica glared at him, putting a little more distance between herself and her dance partner. She had had it up to here with the men she had interacted with today.
"I'm not stupid, Mr. Jefferson. I know you and your comrades will get certain rights you weren't afforded, but what of women and negros? If you ask me, we are getting a second chance. We should make this count for everyone."
Thomas looked shocked by the sudden passion in her tone. His pride flared up, he wouldn't allow her to win this.
"Well it's a good thing no one asked you."
Angelica's jaw physically dropped.
"Excuse me?"
"Women's tender hearts don't have a place in politics. I know from-"
Before he could finish his sentence and before Angelica registered what she was doing, her hand had come back and struck Thomas Jefferson across the face.
There were audible gasps from Jefferson's little gang. Movement in the room seemed to stop. No one was dancing, much less talking. Angelica felt every eye on herself and Jefferson. She locked eyes with her husband.
She had never seen him look so horrified.
Angelica's anger gave way to embarrassment. She turned back to Jefferson, who was cupping his cheek in his hand and looking at her with bewilderment and a hint of something she couldn't identify.
She gave him a small curtsey and then turned on heel and stalked out of the room.
John is going to kill me if I don't die of embarrassment first.
Yet, Angelica didn't regret it for a second.
A/N: Hello fellow Hamilton freaks! This is my first fanfic and I'm gonna let you in on a little secret: I have no idea what I'm doing. So feel free to comment suggestions and what you like/dislike. I'm not really sure where this story is going, but I had the idea for this chapter and kind of loved it. I remember learning about the founding fathers in elementary school, and now I think it's beyond weird that I'm writing fanfiction about them. Oh well. Thanks for reading!