They only had one shot.
With Robespierre's men after them, they had had no choice but to flee the country, and come to America, as soon as she and Angelica had broken Gilbert out of prison. Her husband had connections, here. They would be safe. Hopefully.
Adrienne pounded on the door her husband had assured her was Monsieur Hamilton's residence, her children clinging to her skirts in panic.
"Please, please, please…" She muttered under her breath. "Answer the door!"
Her husband had already been delayed with the carriage for a while, and Adrienne honestly didn't know that Monsieur Hamilton would recognize her, in the dark. Besides, it had been quite a while since he'd been to the Hotel de Noalles, anyway, almost three years, and he might not even recognize her in broad daylight.
He'd be sure to know Gilbert, though.
He – Gilbert, that is – had told her that Robespierre may have spies, even on American soil, and with her French dress and hair, she'd be spotted as Noblesse almost immediately. They had to get to safety at once.
Finally, at long last, she heard a voice muttering in English on the opposite side of the door, before it was abruptly flung open. Alexander stood there, heavy bags under his eyes, dark hair disheveled. He barked something in English at her irritably, and she swallowed hard. She didn't speak a word of English.
"I'm sorry to bother you, Monsieur Hamilton."
"Oh, you're French." He muttered, now in her native language. "Okay, then. Let me guess. Your husband's doing you wrong? Beating you? Cheating you? Mistreating you? Suddenly, he's up and gone? You don't have a means to go on?"
"No, Monsieur…" She began, in confusion. What in the world was this all about? "You don't remember me?"
"Well, I'm not falling for it, again!" Alexander seethed. "Get away from me. I'm a married man, for God's sake!"
"I know!" Adrienne protested. "We simply need your help, Monsieur. You would certainly recall my husband…"
"No!" Alexander basically screamed. "Not again! You get away from my house, or I'll have to consider you a trespasser, and shoot you!"
Adrienne stepped back in shock. She'd expected him to be upset at being awoken at this hour, and possibly not recognize her… But threatening to shoot her? In front of the children?! He slammed the door in her face, and little Georges began fussing miserably, as he clung to her hand. Turning helplessly back to the carriage, where her husband was finally finishing, and coming to the door to jon her. He held a piece of paper in his hand, and a grim expression on his face.
"He wouldn't let me in, Gilbert!" Adrienne almost sobbed. She'd been fleeing for her life, and now she was in a strange country, and she was so tired, and Monsieur Hamilton was so rude… she didn't know if she could take this much longer.
"Yes, well… We came at a bad time." He nodded softly, and held up the paper. "This was blowing down the street, and it had his name on it, so…"
He went on to explain that it was a newspaper article, detailing an affair Monsieur Hamilton had had with a lady named Maria Reynolds. He had published the letters she had written to him, and, according to the article, all his reputation had crumbled around him.
"I don't think he'll be letting anyone in his house for quite some time, now." Her husband sighed, and let the paper blow away into the wind.
There was a silence, save Georges' tired whimpers, as a wave of hopelessness swept over the couple.
"Papa, are Robespierre's men gonna get us, now?" Henriette, the oldest of the three children spoke up.
"No, darling." Gilbert shook his head with a reassuring smile that was obviously faked. "We'll find somewhere else to go."
"Where?" Adrienne asked softly.
Gilbert thought for a moment, his eyes closing as he pondered. "Well… General Washington's dead. I can think of only one other friend I have here, that we can trust with something of this importance. Get back in the carriage, children. We're going to Virginia."
Virginia.
Adrienne tucked the children into their makeshift beds on the seats of the carriage, and kissed their foreheads tenderly, before slipping out to sit next to her husband as he drove out of New York.
"Gilbert, you said the General died." She pointed out. "Who's in Virginia?"
The Marquis smiled softly. "Why, you saw him just this last summer, when he helped draft the declaration, didn't you? You can't tell me you've already forgotten?"
Adrienne smiled softly, as she recalled the name, and the glorious days, back when the revolution was underway, and hadn't turned so brutally violent. Back when there was laughter, and speeches. When the people offered the place of supreme dictator of France to her husband, but, wonderful, humble man that was, he'd turned it down.
She missed those days, but the Reign of Terror couldn't last forever. Eventually, they might even be able to return to France.
In the meantime, though, the one who had helped them in France would help them in America.
With the hand that wasn't wrapped around the reigns of the horse, Gilbert curled his fingers almost reverently around his wife's, and sent her an adoring smile. After six months of solitary confinement, it was little wonder how clingy and touch-starved the poor man was. Adrienne gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, and rested her head on his shoulder. For once, she was certain that things would actually begin to look up.
Okay, so, I'm obviously changing the timeline a bit, here… bear with me, you guys.
As you've most likely guessed, Adrienne refers to Lafayette as Gilbert, because that was his informal name. Most of the Americans will call him Lafayette, Laf, Marquis, or Laffy, if they're Thomas. Because Thomas.
Fact check: Lafayette did actually help with the revolution, they did offer him to be their dictator, he did turn them down, but Robespierre did not turn against him and chase him to America. He was, at one point in solitary confinement, and Angelica did try to break him out, but it didn't work. Because he got lost. Yep. Great sense of direction, Laf.
TheOnlyHuman.