Chapter Ten
"Mr. Hamilton," Mr. Hancock looked surprised to see Alexander as he opened the door. Behind him lingered a number of well-dressed men. Men that Alexander had never seen before, but was certain that he had heard of before. "How wonderful it is to see you! I must confess, we did not expect you to attend this soiree of ours, given your new friendship with France."
"A necessary friendship," Alexander's smile grew strained as he pushed himself past Mr. Hancock and into the foyer of the mansion. "Which I would be glad to explain if I might have a private audience with you later this evening."
"Private audience?" Mr. Hancock grabbed Alexander's elbow before he could enter the ballroom unannounced. "Mr. Hamilton, what do you mean by such a thing? What could you need to speak to me about?"
"Mr. Hancock, please." Alexander looked around him, certain that Sophie had done her best to plant spies within the dinner party. At the very least, he was sure that there were spies lingering outside of the mansion, hoping to catch a snippet of some exchange between the men. He was risking a lot by attending the dinner party in the first place; every step that he took from here on out had to be carefully thought out. There was no margin for error. "Humor me."
"Very well, Mr. Hamilton." Mr. Hancock's eyes narrowed. "After dinner, we will meet in my temporary studies. I will give you five minutes of my time, and not a second more."
"Understood. Thank you, sir." Alexander's heart leapt. He finally stood a chance.
Mr. Hancock nodded at length. "Now, let us go and enjoy this party, shall we?"
"Yes, sir." Alexander agreed, following Mr. Hancock into the party.
He had every intention of remaining beside Mr. Hancock through the evening, mostly because he was impatient for their meeting, but also partially because he did not know anyone at this party. Everyone appeared so successful, so wealthy. Alexander felt inadequate surrounded by them all.
"So you must the disappearing protégée," An older man with a low hairline approached Alexander with a glass of wine in hand. "What was the name, again?"
"Oh, uh, Hamilton, sir." Alexander stuck out his hand. The older man looked down at it with an amused smile before looking up at Alexander. Alexander let his hand drop to his side again. He told himself that the man hadn't shaken his hand solely because of the wine glass in his hand. He didn't think about the other, available hand that the man could have used. "And you are?"
"Benjamin Franklin." The older man said it with confidence. That confidence was well-founded. Alexander had heard his name all over both America and France. He was an international sensation. He was also a notorious scoundrel.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Franklin." Alexander smiled eagerly. "I heard that you were in France. Are you here to recover funds for the revolution? Do you think that the court is well-disposed to sign a treaty with us?"
Mr. Franklin's smile turned patronizing. "I'm afraid that I can't divulge such information, Mr. Hamilton."
Alexander frowned. He wasn't used to not knowing all of the information surrounding the war. He had always been able to access confidential documents when at camp. Then again, he had to remind himself, he was not at camp any longer. He was out in the world with men who did not yet know his name. He needed to remain in their good graces, for it was likely that he would need their help to rescue John.
"Of course." Alexander tried to resolve his frown. "Are you enjoying France very much? Do you speak French very well?"
"I do," Mr. Franklin puffed his chest out proudly.
"He does not," A lanky, red-haired man skulked over, looking at Mr. Franklin dispassionately. "I am constantly having to clean up some mess that he has created with his inadequacies. Mr. Adams, too. It is a shame that more young men do not know French. Surely it is a greater skill than Latin these days."
"I think that there is room for French and Latin, Mr…" Alexander looked at the man in askance, hoping that he would be so kind as to provide his name. Alexander was sure that he had never seen this man before, not even at court. He couldn't imagine where Mr. Hancock had dug him up.
"Jefferson," Mr. Jefferson looked Alexander over critically. "Mr. Franklin, would you care to formally introduce me to your new conversation partner?"
Alexander had heard of Thomas Jefferson. Oh, boy, had he heard of Thomas Jefferson. General Washington kept in constant correspondence with the man - they both resided in Virginia. They had been in the House of Burgess together. Once the war began, Jefferson had joined the Congress the country had put forward to govern themselves. He had written a Declaration of Independence to the King of England. He was a man of great importance.
"Hardly." Mr. Franklin was also scrutinizing Alexander. Alexander tried not to fidget under both men's stares. "I am much more interested to hear about your daughter. I hear that she is visiting you, currently. Would you care to tell me how she is liking the country?"
"Certainly." Mr. Jefferson's expression grew strained. "But first I think that I ought to recover a glass of wine for myself."
"I'll join you." Mr. Franklin cast Alexander one more disapproving look before following Mr. Jefferson to the refreshment table.
"You are not making yourself very amenable, are you?" Mr. Hancock's voice came from behind Alexander.
Alexander reluctantly turned around to make eye contact with him. "It seems that I am not, sir. Is there something that I should do…something I should say to them?"
Mr. Hancock shrugged, looking over his shoulder at Mr. Franklin and Mr. Jefferson. "I will confess, I could not tell you if there were. Both men are difficult to please, though in much different ways. Mr. Franklin is fonder of women than he is of men, and Mr. Jefferson is something of a social recluse. I suppose now that they're occupying one another's time, we may as well meet in my office. So, Mr. Hamilton. Tell me what's on your mind."
Alexander followed Mr. Hancock into the room that must have been his office. He was careful to close the door behind him. "I'm…in a bit of trouble, sir."
"Trouble?" Mr. Hancock's eyes narrowed. "I fail to understand how I am involved with any trouble that you might be in."
"You…aren't." Alexander said lamely. "I am asking for your help. It will be entirely to your detriment, and I stand to be the only man to benefit from your assistance. However, I feel that you are my only option, as -"
"What are you asking of me?" Mr. Hancock cut him off sharply.
"I've been abducted," Alexander explained with some reluctance. He didn't look at Mr. Hancock as he spoke. "More or less. French bandits intercepted our carriage - you were there for that part. They took me hostage, and, as I am not wealthy enough to pay for my own release, I was brought to court to curry the favor of the queen in the hopes of gaining wealth and influence for the same bandits. You are my only hope for escape at this point. If I try to flee on my own, I will almost certainly be killed."
Mr. Hancock looked at Alexander long and hard. "What do you expect me to do for you, Mr. Hamilton?"
Alexander smiled, somewhat abashed. "I'm not sure that I know, sir."
Mr. Hancock sat down in his chair, pausing for a moment before letting out a sigh. "I think I know how we might solve this."
"No," Mr. Jefferson's opinion of Alexander did not seem to improve when Mr. Hancock called upon him and Mr. Franklin to assist Alexander in fleeing France and his captors. "Congress would never approve."
Mr. Hancock ignored him. He turned to Mr. Franklin, his expression severe. "Benjamin?"
"I like it," Mr. Franklin surprised Alexander. He looked at Alexander like he was an interesting challenge - it was infinitely better than the dispassionate look he'd been casting just an hour before. "If we get caught, we could claim that we were saving him from bandits looking to take advantage of the political climate. Before we got him out of the country, we could use him as a bargaining chip with Marie Antoinette. He said that he was close with her."
"Wait." Alexander protested, his eyebrows furrowing. He was trying to get out of being used to sway French politics. He just wanted to get to England, where he could rescue John. "No…I need to leave France. I need to go to England. That's the whole point."
Mr. Franklin waved him off, turning to look at Mr. Hancock. "We'll have to explain his absence somehow. If we were to say that he was coming to America to work with Congress, he may be able to sway the Queen into talking to her husband about a loan."
"Mr. Jefferson, would a loan convince you to assist us?" Mr. Hancock asked impatiently. "Neither Mr. Franklin nor I have the connections needed to get Mr. Hamilton to England."
"I still don't understand why Mr. Hamilton needs to go to England." Mr. Jefferson folded his arms across his chest, his eyes narrowing. "I don't know of any operations the General is running that involve sending an officer to England. We are not brokering a peace."
"I already told you - I can't tell you." Alexander gritted his teeth. He did not like being questioned about his motives. "Congress does not need to know everything that the General is doing."
"Ah, but that is where you are sorely mistaken, Mr. Hamilton," Mr. Jefferson practically bared his teeth. "We pay his salary. He answers to Congress."
"Are you going to help me, or aren't you?" Alexander was growing impatient with Mr. Jefferson.
"I am not going to help you desert the militia and bring secrets to England, no." Mr. Jefferson said coolly.
"I'm not deserting!" Alexander exclaimed indignantly. "And I'm certainly not bringing any secrets to England!"
"Then what is it that you're doing?" Mr. Jefferson needled.
"I'm going to get my friend out of the Tower!" In a fit of rage, the truth spilled out. Alexander's face reddened as he realized what he had done.
"Well, Mr. Hamilton," Mr. Jefferson's cool attitude thawed into a coy smile. "That, I can help you with."
"And you're sure that this is going to work?" Alexander asked Mr. Hancock dubiously, looking down at the ridiculous costume that the three men had pulled together for both him and Mr. Jefferson's daughter, Polly. The poor girl had been roused from her sleep to assist with the mission and looked rather upset with her father.
"No," Mr. Hancock was not the reassuring type. "Now, Polly, these men are going to try to take you, do you understand? It is important that you let them see that you are not Mr. Hamilton the moment that they catch you."
"Papa, why are you letting these men do this?" Polly looked at Mr. Jefferson irritably. She was wearing Alexander's clothes, which were just about her size. Alexander pretended not to be offended by that. It was obvious that Polly was equally offended.
Mr. Jefferson shrugged, leaning up against the doorway and watching the proceedings with a bored expression. "You have burned the last twenty letters that I have received to punish me for bringing you to this country."
"Burning letters and risking my life are not the same thing, Papa!" Alexander hated to admit it, but he agreed with the girl.
"Mr. Hamilton," Mr. Hancock drew Alexander's attention away from the moral dilemma at hand. "Though it will be tempting, you may not take a horse with you. Doing so would risk being caught, or at the very least, being shot at. Mr. Jefferson will guide you through the forest behind the estate. At the edge of the estate lies a river just wide enough to put sensible distance between you and the assailants. From there, you may take a horse and meet Mr. Jefferson's connection to England. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir. Mr. Jefferson, do you have the letter of introduction for me?" Alexander turned to look at Mr. Jefferson reluctantly. Mr. Jefferson produced the letter. Alexander stuffed it into his pocket, avoiding eye contact with Polly.
"Polly." Mr. Jefferson nodded towards the front door, where Sophie and her brothers were undoubtedly skulking around, waiting for Alexander. Polly glowered as she put on Alexander's tricorn. It sunk down over her eyes. Alexander was startled to realize that she did look a bit like him when her face was shadowed over.
"I'll take her," Mr. Hancock placed his hand on Polly's back, guiding her towards the front door. "Mr. Jefferson, if you could escort Mr. Hamilton."
Mr. Jefferson nodded, guiding Alexander towards the dining room window, where they would make their daring escape. As they neared the window, Mr. Jefferson paused. He looked back at Mr. Hancock hesitantly. "See to it that she's safe, will you?"
Mr. Hancock simply nodded. He wasn't one for emotional displays.
"Go." Mr. Jefferson urged Alexander out the window as Mr. Hancock opened the door for Polly. Alexander did not hesitate - he leapt out the window. As Mr. Jefferson climbed out of the window in a much more dignified manner, Alexander looked around for any of Sophie's goonies. He spotted one straight off the bat. The disguise must have worked, however, as he took no notice of Alexander and Mr. Jefferson. He merely circled the mansion towards Polly.
Mr. Jefferson did not waste any time. He led Alexander straight into the woods. They walked for what felt like hours in total silence. Mr. Jefferson seemed to know where he was going. Alexander didn't know what to say to a man who risked his daughter's life to help him.
Finally, they arrived at a riverbank. Tied to the bank was a small boat with a set of oars lain across. Alexander assumed that this was what he would be taking to cross the river.
"Off you go." Mr. Jefferson gestured towards the boat before turning on his heel and walking back in the direction from whence they came. "I must see to my daughter."
Alexander swallowed hard, turning and nodding to look at the boat grimly. It hardly looked like it could safely carry him across a small pond, let alone a wide river. Still, he climbed into the boat, settled back against the benches, dangled his foot out of the boat and kicked himself away from the shore.
As he neared the middle of the river, a bullet whizzed by his ear. It must have belonged to Sophie and her men. Alexander looked around for the source, but could not find it. He rowed faster, not daring to think about what fate Mr. Jefferson might have met in the woods he had left behind.
Once he reached the other side, Alexander ran at full speed towards a horse left in a yard of a little cottage. A woman was tending a garden outside of the cottage, surrounded by a litter of small children. There was not a man in sight.
"Excuse me, miss." Alexander ran right past the woman towards the horse, his face red. "I need your horse."
"Pardon?" The woman did not seem to speak English.
"Your horse," Alexander tried again in French. "I must take it. It is a matter of life or death."
"Certainly not!" The woman disapproved. "My husband uses that horse for his job. If you take it from us, we will starve."
Alexander could hear guns and shouting in the background. He climbed the fence and grabbed the horse by its reins. "I'm sorry. I will die if I do not get your horse. Speak to Mr. Jefferson about a new one. He will give you his."
"Jefferson?" The woman repeated suspiciously.
"Oi." Alexander hopped up on the horse, jumping it over the fence.
"No!" The woman was not satisfied with the promise of a new horse. She leapt in front of Alexander and the horse he was riding. The horse reared. Alexander narrowly avoided falling off. "You will not take this horse! I will shoot you if I must!"
She didn't have a gun. Alexander hated to steal, but these were exceptional circumstances. He navigated the horse around the woman with an apologetic look. The woman did not seem to care about his unspoken apology. She jabbed at him with one of her gardening tools as he galloped by. It left a massive gash in his bicep that would need to be looked at once he made it to safely.
"Ah," Alexander winced as he struggled to hold the reins of the horse with his now-wounded arm. He looked down at it guiltily before focusing on navigating the horse. He didn't know exactly where Mr. Jefferson's connections were, but he was sure that he would know it when he saw it.
As blood began to pour from his bicep at a frightening rate, he spurred on the horse. If he was going to survive to sundown, he would need to find his next connection within the hour.
John remained in the hospital for days as he recovered from his injuries. Eddy visited him quite often, as did Charlie who continued to badger him about Washington's plans. Reggie made one appearance, and that guy Eddy had dismissed the other day, Thomas, came with him.
"So you're really an American, an aide to the famous general?" Thomas asked him during the visit.
John nodded, turning to look at him. It was clear Thomas was a bit of a rookie, maybe not even a proper soldier. He looked young, maybe in his mid-teens, with red hair neatly tied back in a ponytail with a bow. He wore a red coat but it was slightly too big on him.
"I've heard so much about him, so it's really kinda awesome to meet you," Thomas said excitedly.
Reggie looked down at him disapprovingly for his excitement at meeting the enemy. Thomas saw his expression and shrunk back a bit, looking down at John in his hospital bed.
"Aw, don't let ol Reggie keep you from dowsing me in praise, Thommy," John teased with a smirk.
"I will do what I please with my son, thank you." Reggie turned and began to leave. "Let's go, Thomas."
Thomas didn't move.
"Ugh, come on." Reggie grabbed his arm and started to pull him out of the room.
"I'll come back later," Thomas mouthed to John silently so Reggie couldn't see.
He did, in fact, come by later on his own. The doctor had let him speak to John for ten minutes. "I don't want your father to get me court-martialed," he had said.
Thomas nodded before sitting next to the bed and looking at John, asking, "So what's it like, being an aide-de-campe to such a famous general?" His accent came through as...not British. It sounded more American southern, but not so southern as John's.
"Are you really Reggie's son?" John countered curiously.
"Adopted son," Thomas corrected, rubbing his neck sheepishly.
"Okay, makes sense, since you don't look anything alike and you speaks like you're American…"
"A colonist," Thomas corrected.
"We all were once a colonist. But we're not anymore."
Thomas sighed, then glanced off like he was in dream land. "I used to hear stories about General Washington, his bravery and his talent. I heard them from those patriots that cried out in the town square...I spent most of my childhood in Virginia, if you didn't guess."
"So how'd you end up here?"
This was when Thomas glanced down and started to tear up a bit. "My mother was a loyalist and my father was a patriot...when the American army came through our town my father invited some of them to stay...but then the British army arrived soon after and ambushed us. Both my parents were killed…" He wiped his eyes. "I was found by Reginald and he brought me with him here, knowing my mother had been of the Loyalist cause. He's been like a father to me ever since...but also not. He brought me here when he came back."
John felt sympathy for the boy.
"I'm more aligned with my late mother's belief in the crown, but I can't help but fantasize sometimes about meeting the great General Washington…" Thomas continued.
"He's not always in the greatest moods, granted, but I'd be a traitor to say he isn't great," John replied with a light chuckle.
"Can you tell me more about him? I want to know if those people were exaggerating," Thomas asked.
"Sure...wait." John thought about it, and narrowed his eyes at Thomas. "Is this a trick? A way to get me to spill our secrets?"
"What?" Thomas looked confused and a bit hurt.
"Who put you up to it? Charlie? Reggie? Levi?"
"I-I only know a few people here…" Thomas had started tearing up a bit.
John looked at him analytically.
Thomas wiped his eyes and stood up. "Reggie was right. American soldiers are rude and untrustworthy." He said this brashly, he wasn't thinking straight.
"Thomas, you're American-"
"No I'm not! Not anymore. I can't be." Thomas left the hospital and slammed the door.
John leaned back in his bed and sighed. Poor kid.