Okay, so *insert disclaimer here*. This is for mew serene's contest. A little bit of background knowledge for the story is simply that this is AU and set in 1812 in the United States. James Monroe is currently the President and it is just before the War of 1812 officially starts.
The entire White House staff was in a frenzy, and with good reason; not only was the President to return home today, but he was to return home AND make a speech. Every maid was trying to make any place that may be inhabited immaculate. Any horizontal surface was to be dusted, each and every floor to be scrubbed, and clutter was a death sentence. All this was overseen by two wonderful women: the First Lady Mrs. Monroe, and the Chief of Staff Mrs. Holland. Both were running around the house as if they were chickens with their heads cut off to make sure everything would be perfect for such an important day.
"Please, Charlotte, this floor needs to get done before Mr. Monroe gets here, scrub faster dear," Mrs. Holland instructed a young girl, who nodded vigorously and started scrubbing in the same manner.
Mrs. Monroe came into the room in a tizzy, "Oh, please tell me things are coming along!" Her graying dark hair that was normally pulled back into a neat bun had many defiant hairs sticking out, and her normally pristine dress was rumpled.
"Oh, they are dear! Don't you worry," the elderly and portly Mrs. Holland said and told the First Lady, "Mrs. Elizabeth, please, go to the parlor and relax. I'll send Wesley in with some tea for you and the girls. We need you to be ready for this evening. Mr. Monroe wrote that he had an important announcement to make. You can have your tea, then you can go get cleaned up."
"I know, Ginny, I just can't help but worry," she said, and let herself be led into the parlor.
Mrs. Holland scurried into the kitchen to find everyone was hard at work chopping vegetables, boiling, spicing chicken, or in any way shape or form preparing for the meal tonight. It smelled like it was made for God Himself, and that made her extremely happy, but she had a task at hand.
A young man that couldn't have been more than twenty with a long brown ponytail was kneading bread when he was approached by the older servant, "What can I do for you Mrs. Holland?" he asked with a polite smile.
"Could you make tea for Mrs. Monroe and the girls?"
"Consider it done," he said and got out a kettle that was starting to rust, and it was bound to be replaced soon.
She smiled and took off to make sure everything else was getting done.
He waved when she left, more out of politeness than for hope that it would be reciprocated. He then made the tea as fast as he could, and kneaded the bread dough while waiting on the kettle to boil. He got out a shining silver tray, and poured a cup for each of the Monroe girls, making a mental note to use the purple cups because they were Renée's favorite. He maneuvered through the kitchen safely and made his way for the parlor. When he entered, he announced himself and greeted the mistress of the house. He then gave her some tea, and noticed there was someone missing, "Where is Ms. Renée, if I'm not too rude in asking?"
"It's not at all rude, William. She's probably still in her room, most peculiar, as I've sent word for her to come down. Perhaps I should go check on her," she started to rise.
"Nonsense, ma'am, I'll go fetch her for you. You enjoy your tea," he told her with a warm smile, and then added, "um, by the way ma'am, my name is Wesley, not William."
"What a thoughtful young man, going outside of his duty. Thank you, Wembley."
He nodded and took one of the tea cups to give Ms. Renée. He went up the servants' staircase and upon arriving at the young miss' room he knocked. He heard a rustle of fabrics and then the door was opened by a disgruntled, but still gorgeous, Renée in a red dress with a low bodice. Her black hair was down with two braid loops. She had a simple golden chain on, no charm, just the chain, and her earrings matched. They simply hung down, making a unique rattling sound when the multiple dangling chains brushed against each other.
"Oh, Wes," she said. That's all; just said. There was no hint of surprise, or happiness, or anger; it just was.
"Your mother is looking for you," he told her with a smile. He offered her the cup of tea.
"I'm surprised she has the time to wonder," she remarked and thanked the young cook for the tea. She set the tea down abruptly, putting a hand to her mouth, and swallowing hard before taking another sip immediately.
"Well, she has a lot on her mind, but she is wondering why you've ignored her summons." He noticed her discomfort, but struggled over whether or not to say anything.
"Was she really, or did you ask why I wasn't in the parlor?" she asked with a raised eyebrow and another sip of her tea, a little more quickly than usual, as if she were trying to purge some foul taste from her mouth.
His cheeks mirrored the shade of the red silk she was wearing, "Well, I asked, but she was worried all the same, I'm sure." He noticed, and not for the first time, that her own cheeks were flushed. "Ms. Renée, are you feeling quite all right?"
"Well, my temples seem a little sensitive to everything, but I'm fine," she told him with a shrug.
He extended a hand to her forehead, at which she opened her mouth to protest but he said, "You're burning up, Miss. Perhaps you should lie down."
"No, that's quite all right."
"I'll fetch a maid and she can properly attend you."
"Please, no, don't burden yourself," she protested, putting her hand to her mouth again.
"It's no burden; it's my pleasure," he told her, and with a cheeky grin added, "and my job." No amount of protesting was able to stop him from bowing and leaving the room to get her a maid. He sent one up. After that, he went down to the kitchen to resume his bread making.
In the parlor the President had returned, and was greeted by his anxious family. He noticed his second borne daughter was missing, "Where is Renée?" he asked with a puzzled expression.
"I'm not sure, I sent for her," his wife informed her, and then added, "twice."
"Perhaps Mr. Peale is painting another picture of her," Maria suggested.
"Hmm, I don't recall him scheduling a visit," Mrs. Monroe said with a pout.
"Perhaps it just slipped your mind, today looks like it's been a busy day," Mr. Monroe smiled at her with his eyes aglow.
"Father, what was that letter about?" his oldest daughter Eliza asked, taking a sip of her tea which was almost gone.
"Well, I'm giving a speech today darling," he told her, as if he didn't know she had read it.
"I know that Father, but what is your speech about. Shall I proofread it for you? " she offered eagerly. She loved proofreading his speeches.
"No, that's all right dear. Mr. Jefferson helped me with it. You'll have to wait for dinner to hear about my speech." This was an odd statement for Mr. Monroe, for he was a family man, and usually shared things with his girls before the rest of the country, so it wasn't unexpected that he got confused and hurt expressions from the occupants of the room.
"Oh, well," Mrs. Monroe was trying to think of how to change the subject, "how is Mr. Jefferson?"she said, successfully clearing the awkward silence.
"He is well, and he sends his love."
"Oh, he's such a kind old man," Eliza droned. The family kept trying to get a word of the speech out of Mr. Monroe, but he wouldn't budge. The house kept turning, largely unaware of Ms. Renée's delicate condition. But a certain chef was trying to knead away his worry for the young miss down in the kitchen.
I apologize or this being so short. My idea was an average length one-shot, but the requirements for the contest are that it be a two-shot, so sorry, but the second chapter will be interesting, I swear.