After Liberty
A Liberty's Kids Fanfic
By Auburn Red
Disclaimer: I created Richard, Celine, Rebecca, Maggie, Sean and their families. The cast of Liberty's Kids belong to DIC and PBS. The real historical figures belong to themselves, but are heavily influenced by other sources. There will also be references and cameos from other characters, but they will be noted accordingly.
Author's Note: After listening to the Hamilton soundtrack for the hundredth time and watching the Hamlet-involved Liberty's Kids episodes, I decided to finally put to life a long dormant fanfic idea that I had when Liberty's Kids first aired but never brought to life. I guess it is true, nothing ever really dies. (Maybe I can finally write my James Bond/James Bond Jr. Fic if properly motivated.)
Now before mass confusion sets in, I will explain what I am doing. The historical figures will vary in how they are portrayed between fictional and historical sources. I am definitely using the Hamilton musical versions of Hamilton, Lafayette, and the Schuyler Sisters. I am also putting great emphasis on James's friendship with Hamilton and Henri's bond with Lafayette. Aaron Burr is mostly Hamilton, but also based on other sources to make him more antagonistic. George Washington is a composite of Liberty's Kids and Hamilton. John and Abigail Adams are mostly Liberty's Kids and other sources. Thomas Jefferson was harder since he is so diametrically different in the versions but I decided to settle with Liberty's Kids along with other sources since I am more familiar with that version (However much I enjoy Daveed Diggs' portrayal.) so far. Although there will be nods to his portrayal in Hamilton such as his rivalry with Alexander.
Also, because of the age of the kids, I decided to have Henri be about 16 at the start of the fic and James and Sarah be 20 and 21 respectively. (I slowed their aging process as the series but I wanted Henri to be actively involved in the French Revolution and the trio to experience the pressures of work, marriage, and family.)
I am trying to get events as historically accurate as possible, but some had to be moved earlier or later for the sake of storytelling.
Also, I am a blogger, book reviewer, and editor with many projects so I can't promise that I will be quick with updates. I will try to at least post a new chapter each month but I can't promise that.
Summary: What happens after liberty? James, Sarah, and Henri experience a new world with new responsibilities, romances, revolution, and the disinegration of ideals that they once held dear.
Chapter One: The Torch is Passed
Chapter summary: We say goodbye to an old friend. James is given a new position and reports on the burgeoning friction between the Founding Fathers. Sarah encounters an old family friend while dealing with an increasingly uncomfortable home life. Henri adjusts to life in France and makes a new friend.
The funeral of Benjamin Franklin was a large affair. In a city of 28,000 people over 20,000 arrived. James Hiller, reporter and currently sole employee of the Pennsylvania Gazette, looked around while trying to keep focus on his writing. He described the setting and the events of Franklin's life, but he knew that no mere words could capture how much the man meant to his country or the people who knew and loved him. James put his quill down as the tears that he tried to hide kept him from writing. He rubbed his eyes and continued.
By his side, his friend, Sarah Phillips dried her eyes with her handkerchief. James lay his hand on her shoulder as a gesture of sympathy. She looked down confused but accepted the touch.
Moses Franklin stood not too far from them, remaining as stoic as ever. On the good doctor's death bed, Moses asked if he could take his last name as a tribute to his kindness in freeing him, assistance in liberating his brother, Cato, and encouragement in opening up the school. Benjamin Franklin's response was characteristic of his wit: "If you didn't, I would be so offended that I would forgo my deism just so I can reappear from the spirit world and haunt you." That's the man he was even to the end.
After the funeral dissipated, a familiar short stout figure approached them. "James, Sarah, Moses," he said. Temple Franklin gave James and Moses hearty but affectionate hand grasps and Sarah a hug and peck on the cheek.
"Our condolences," Sarah said.
Temple nodded. "How are you holding up?" James asked.
"As well as I can be I suppose," Temple said soberly. He liked them and Henri, having known them since his widowed grandfather adopted him. He considered the quartet a second family. "How are all of you?" He asked with real concern rather than absent politeness.
James nodded and shrugged. "As well as can be expected."
Temple tried to offer a thin smile. "We are having a small gathering in memorial to my grandfather. Just an intimate gathering, family only. I would appreciate it if you would come."
James, Sarah, and Moses exchanged glances. "Us, but we aren't family," James said. Many of Ben's children, particularly his daughter Sarah Franklin Bache, did not get on with the young intrepid journalists or their educator friend.
"You are to me and you definitely were to my grandfather," Temple insisted. "In many ways, you were more family to him than-" He didn't continue that thought and he didn't have to. They knew that William Franklin, Temple's father and Benjamin's son, was still a hurtful subject. That he was a Loyalist should not have been an issue, after all Benjamin had many Loyalist friends and certainly never held Sarah's Loyalist beliefs against her. If anything that made the paper stronger to have different beliefs. But what hurt was that the father and son cut each other from their lives to the point that William currently lived in London. That estrangement increased after Ben adopted Temple. Like his father before him, Temple was illegitimate. While William paid for his son's education, he kept him at a distance and considered his father's adoption to be meddling in what was not his business. William also didn't care for the four Gazette employees either. In a strange bit of irony, the estrangement made Temple's bond with his grandfather and his grandfather's friends stronger.
"Water under the bridge," Temple said simply. "Please, it would be a great honor to Grandfather if you were to come."
James, Sarah, and Moses nodded. "It would be our pleasure," Moses spoke for them.
The family gathering was more informal than the state funeral. Mostly those gathered shared personal, intimate, even humorous stories about Benjamin Franklin. Moses even played a set on the glass harmonica which was well received, at least by the family members that didn't mind him and his young friends being there. Sarah Franklin Bache said nothing but glowered in disdain.
The reading of Franklin's will was long with much of the money dispersed among family, friends, and various philanthropic institutions. James reasoned that soon there wouldn't be a place in Philadelphia that wouldn't have Franklin's name on it.
Dr. Franklin did not leave his friends at the Pennsylvania Gazette behind. He left monetary inheritances to Sarah and Henri put in the care of Sarah's parents and the Marquis de Lafayette. He left a sizeable amount of land in rural Pennsylvania for Moses to build and increase the school's size.
"For James Hiller, I have no money to leave him," Franklin's solicitor read. James shrugged. He had a feeling. "Instead I leave something more important. I leave him ownership of my print shop and proprietorship of the Pennsylvania Gazette. He is free to make whatever changes that he sees fit including whether it should be moved to the nation's capitol wherever that may be."
James felt the earth swallow him up. He couldn't believe that Dr. Franklin left the paper to him. He wanted it, but he never articulated that desire. He never suspected that the old man even knew."Congratulations, James," Sarah said with a smile. The smile made James even weaker in the knees.
"This is preposterous! He should not have that paper! He is not family. He is a Nobody!" said the shrill voice of Sarah "Sally" Franklin Bache. Like her half-brother, William, Sally did not care for the Gazette employees. She thought that her father was too familiar with them and often insisted that they were not to come to the house. Unlike William, her differences with them was not politics, after all she was just as Patriotic as her famous father. But she considered them freeloaders, particularly that James Hiller. To her, he was a gutter trash orphan who manipulated his way into her father's life.
That he would leave money was not a problem. Her father was a generous man as well as one who encouraged education. Him giving land to Moses was not a concern either (though she did question him assuming her father's name) but this bit of news raised her ire.
"That is what is stated here, Mrs. Bache," the attorney said.
"Aunt Sally please," Temple said holding his aunt down.
"I am just as surprised as you, Mrs. Bache," James said.
"Pleased no doubt," she said.
"Well I can't deny it," James agreed. "But I will do my best to uphold the Gazette to Dr. Franklin's standards."
"My father labored over that paper. He put his heart and soul into it's production and devoted his life to the written word. I will not let a barely literate street rat orphan with no real connection to my father ruin it!," Mrs. Bache snorted.
"Now see here," James half shouted until Sarah held him by the shoulder. "I am as much a son to him as your brother!"
"James," Sarah said. She walked calmly up towards Mrs. Bache trying to retain her ladylike demeanor. "Mrs. Bache, Mr. Hiller is a very good writer and will make an excellent businessman. He learned what he knows from your father and adapted even improved upon his studies. You can trust that the Gazette will be in the best of hands."
"You would stand up for him," Mrs. Bache commanded.
"I beg your pardon-" Sarah said.
"You are an unmarried young woman who once lived with three unmarried young men, two orphans and a Negro," the older woman argued. "Do you think that anyone was not talking about it? Who knows what you were doing in that house?"
"Mrs. Bache-", James practically shouted. "You can say what you like about me but you watch what you say about Miss Phillips! We were working on the paper. We were children. Your father and Sarah's mother trusted that we would look after her and we did! Sarah does not live above the Gazette anymore! She lives with her parents! If I were you, I would stop looking for scandals that don't exist!"
"I will not have these strangers insult my father's memory," Mrs. Bache insisted. "I suggest that you leave."
James and Sarah were about to stand still defiant when Moses held them both by the shoulder. "You both have said your pieces. It's about time we left." He herded the younger man and woman out the door. "My apologies and our condolences, Mrs. Bache."
The three left as the April weather began to chill. A voice called to them.
Temple ran up to his friends and chucked James on the shoulder. "You're still family to me, never forget that." James grasped the Franklin grandson's hand in gratitude.
James fingered the printer running his finger along the edge. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought that he saw a small mouse scamper slowly through the walls. James thought about setting traps, but he swore that the mouse was dressed like Ben and had an expression of sadness. James sighed. Maybe that was just him projecting his own feelings onto a small animal. Nevertheless, he ignored the mouse.
He completed the obituary including his report of the funeral, the doctor's description of Franklin's death, and a timeline of his legacy. James also included an editorial that was a personal tribute to the man who was like a father to him.
A cold rain pelted on the windows. James glanced outside remembering the cold wet night when he first met Moses and Dr. Franklin.
James was 10 years old then. The rain drenched his body including the threadbare trousers and shirt and holed leggings. His shoes had long gone either from the fight or the endless walking. He could no longer feel his feet, they were so wet and sore. His stomach gnawed with hunger and his knees felt weak almost faint. He knew that he needed to steal money for food but the punches from the fight made it hard for him to focus on anything else.
Blood poured with the rain as red and clear drops fell from the boy's face. Pain filled his chest and abdomen but he considered the fight worth it. He had to protect his mother's ring. He closed his hand on his ring finger covering up his most prized possession and ignoring the numbness in his hands.
He squinted to see the shop across the road. The rain as well as the pain and hunger made his vision difficult to read the sign.
Was it the one? He could barely make out books and papers peering from the windows and a tall black man standing over a machine. It must be the print shop. It had to be.
James ran across the road just barely missing a carriage rush by. The horses reared in surprise at the young boy. The driver drew back in fury whipping the horses in rage. "Whoah," he commanded in a thick Scottish brogue. He looked angrily at the source of the commotion. "Out a' the way ye street rat!"
James ignored the man, long used to the insults that he heard his entire life from adults. He finally approached the shop giving what he felt was a determined knock. At first there was silence, but when James tried again, the door was opened by the tall black man that he saw through the window. "Yes," he said with a deep booming voice that made James step back in fear.
No James thought, Don't be afraid. You never showed fear before why start now? James stared at the man trying to retain toughness and defiance, but the hunger, pain, and exertion began to overwhelm him and his breath started to become labored. "Is this Dr. Benjamin Franklin's print shop?"
"It is," the man said.
James's breath became more desperate as he struggled. He had a speech prepared if he could just remember it. "My name-my name is-" but that was as far as he got when he felt weightless and could see only darkness in front of him. The last thing that he was conscious of was his body falling into the man's strong arms as he collapsed.
When James awoke, he laid in a warm bed covered up by a quilt. He started as he could see his clothes being warmed over the fire. He pulled off the quilt and saw that he was dressed in a nightshirt. He rubbed his fingers along his chest feeling the bandages that were expertly wrapped around him. His feet were also bandaged. James rubbed his right foot in confusion.
"We were starting to wonder when you would wake up," a hoarse voice said. James drew back in surprise as an elderly portly man sat up from a large chair. "For a moment there, I thought that we would have to send for the undertaker."
"I'm looking for Dr. Franklin," James said.
"Well you found him," Benjamin Franklin said. "Now could you explain why I was so important that you faced the elements and near death to see me?"
James took a deep breath. "My name is James Hiller and I want to be your apprentice."
Franklin barely contained amusement at the boy's impudence. The door opened and the black man entered with a mug of hot tea and some broth on a tray. "Looks like our guest is awake," he said laying down the tray on the boy's lap.
"Indeed Moses," Franklin said. "James Hiller wants to be my apprentice."
"Does he now?" Moses asked. They exchanged glances.
"Now young Master Hiller what makes you think that you can be my apprentice?" James thought. He liked Dr. Franklin instantly. All the times that he envisioned this moment, he never imagined that he would be that friendly or approachable. And that voice. He was instantly a person that he could trust.
"Well I can read and write," James said. "I learned at the orphanage."
"You're an orphan?" Franklin asked. James nodded. "What happened to your parents?"
James lowered his head sadly "A lightning strike hit their farm when I was a baby and caused a fire. It killed them."
Moses and Dr. Franklin nodded in sympathy. "You have no family?" Franklin asked.
"Only my Uncle Will, well he wasn't really my Uncle," he said. "His last name was Cooper. He was my mother and father's friend. He saved me from the fire and brought me up, though he wasn't married. He was good to me, but he died from smallpox when I was six. When he died, none of his family wanted me. So they sent me to the orphanage the first time."
The adults were surprised. "The first time?" Moses asked. "How many times were you sent?"
"Four," James said. "The first time I tried to run away but I fell and they caught me right after I got out the door. The second time I hid inside a basket of donations. I got as far as outside the city when someone saw me on the road. I got sent back. The third time I hid inside the governor's carriage when he had an inspection. I got to the governor's house and sneaked out. But a footman saw me and I was caught. They were so annoyed at the orphanage that they moved me to another one."
"What happened this time?" Dr. Franklin asked.
"I sneaked out after bed check and just kept traveling at night until I got here to Philadelphia," James said.
"I would have done that the first time," Franklin said amused by this incorrigible boy's tale.
"Is it at the orphanage where you got the bruises?" Moses asked pointing at the the boy's back.
"The old ones," James said honestly. He pointed at his face and chest. "But I'd been living on the streets for about a year now. These new ones I got in a fight with some other boys."
"Over food?" Franklin inquired.
"Some but they wanted this," James said. He held up his ring. "It belonged to my mother. Uncle Will found it at the old house in a box. He gave it to me before he died. He said that I reminded him so much of her that he felt that I should have it. It's the only thing that I have of hers and of my uncle."
"I can see why you wanted to fight them for it," Franklin said. "I can definitely understand your desire to leave such circumstances but why come to me?"
"Well you invented so many things like the lightning rod," James said. "You saved many people even if they weren't my parents. And you were poor like me! Everyone says that I'm Nothing, a nobody. They call me names like street rat and trash and say that's all I am ever going to be. The only people that anyone talks about are rich, own land, or are kings and lords and generals and stuff."
Franklin arched his eyebrows. "The rigid class system from our mother country right before our very eyes," he said wryly.
"You never did any of that," James said. "You wrote a ton of stuff that people read and I want to be like that. I want to be a writer like you."
"How good are you at reading?" Franklin asked.
James shrugged. "Uncle Will taught me to read and said my mind was a sharp tack. I stopped reading the Horn books before I got to the orphanage. There weren't that many adult books at the orphanage but I read them so often that I knew most of them by heart."
"Which ones?" Franklin asked.
"The Bible, some essays, poems, Poor Richard's Almanac," James nodded at the almanac's author who couldn't resist a proud grin. "One orphanage had a book of plays by Shakespeare."
"And your writing skills?" Franklin asked.
"I was the fastest writer at the orphanage," James boasted proudly. "Some of the other boys even made me write their lessons for them."
Franklin put his fingers together in a pyramid formation. "Suppose after you eat and get dressed, I test your skills."
After James ate and dressed, he followed Moses and Dr. Franklin into the shop. James stood amazed as Moses demonstrated how the printing press worked from filling the specific keys with ink to placing the keys and vellum inside the press, to pulling down the handle, to pulling out the paper and laying it to dry. "This is tomorrow's headline," Moses said. James nodded reading the headline which told of a massacre in Boston.
Franklin called the young boy over and sat at a desk. He held up a quill and a blank sheet of paper. "James, I want you to write exactly what I say. Ready?"
James dipped the quill in ink then nodded. Dr. Franklin quoted a page from the latest Almanac not yet printed. James wrote as he spoke never once asking Franklin to stop or slow down. Franklin paused. "Why did you stop sir?" He asked.
"For you to catch up," Franklin answered.
"But I wrote everything that you said," James answered.
Dr. Franklin was stunned and looked at the boy's writing. "My word you are a fast writer," he said impressed. "Some misspellings, but we can work on that. I think Moses that we have a new apprentice."
James smiled as Moses laughed. "I think you're right, Dr. Franklin. Welcome, James."
"Now your first assignment is to get yourself a pair of new leggings and shoes," Franklin said pointing at the boy's bare bandaged feet. James looked down at his feet and for the first time in a long time felt happy.
The door creaking open broke James from his reverie. "We're closed," James said without turning around.
"I know," a familiar feminine English accented voice said. "I came to see you."
"I thought that you were going home to your folks," James said to Sarah.
"I wanted to see how you were first," she said.
"I'm fine," James said. "I have a deadline so I have to be fine."
He turned around to face the printing press partly to get to work, but also so Sarah didn't see the tears that were threatening to form.
Sarah walked up to James and gently embraced him by the shoulders. She tried to move him, but he resisted. "James, James it's alright," she said softly. "You can talk to me. You don't have to hide your emotions and be the strong one all the time."
James couldn't hide his tears any longer. "I don't know why I am feeling this way. He was an old man. He had been ill for a long time. At least he wasn't in pain."
"It still hurts," Sarah assured him.
"I'm not even family," James said. "I shouldn't feel any different than anyone else right now."
"James of course you should," Sarah insisted. "Dr. Franklin wasn't just a symbol to you, a Patriot. For all intents and purposes, he was your father! You knew him better than anyone. You have every right to feel this way. You never have to hide your feelings from me, never!"
That did it. The dam broke and James could no longer contain his tears. He sobbed in Sarah's arms as she whispered words of comfort.
James pulled away from her blowing his nose on his shirt. "Your manners are impeccable as always." Sarah couldn't resist a sarcastic comment more to provide levity to the situation than out of any real annoyance.
James ignored her. "I have to get back to work. It's the best way to
honor him. Get this paper going."
"I'll help you," Sarah insisted.
James started. "I didn't think you would." After Sarah moved back in with her parents, she resigned from the Gazette considering the travel too far. James didn't buy her excuse for a second. She traveled much greater distances. He wondered if her resignation was more so she could be with her newly reunited parents more often.
"This is a new country that's just getting started," Sarah said. "Do you think that I am going to let you have all the good stories? I have an idea on how these ideas of freedom and liberty will change the way people are educated, particularly young girls. I also understand that the members of Congress are not getting on."
James rolled his eyes. "When have they ever? Now Mr. Hamilton is arguing with Mr. Jefferson, Mr. Madison, and Mr. Burr. Mr. Jefferson and Mr. Adams aren't getting along. I don't know how President Washington puts up with them."
"Goodness," Sarah said. "I thought that we were all finally on the same side."
"That was when we had a common enemy with Britain," James said. "Now that's gone, all that animosity they had before has returned. Instead of guns and bayonets, they now fight with words and pamphlets."
"Well then we must report it and see our way through this animosity and find out the truth. That's what we do." Sarah declared.
James nodded but then started. "We?" He asked. "You don't want to go back to your parents?"
Sarah hesitated. Her parents were not her favorite subject right now. "Uh, I'm in no hurry. What I mean is I will send them a message. They can get by without me a little longer." She resigned to appease them and for-other reasons, but more and more she wondered if she made the right decision.
The nervous way Sarah spoke implied that there was more than she let on. "Sarah what's going on?" James asked.
" It's- it's nothing no I'm being silly," she said.
" Sarah, I talked to you," James said firmly. "Now it's your turn."
Sarah took a deep breath. "James, you have to understand what my parents were like when we lived in England. Their marriage was arranged as all marriages were of people of our station. But sometimes well I could tell. They would hold hands and kissed each other whenever they left the house. It's usually not the done thing, but they didn't care. They were very affectionate. At least that's how they used to be."
"What are they like now?" James asked.
"Well since they reunited everything has changed," Sarah said. "For example, you know Mother had that big house built? Father hardly stays in it. He is more inclined to go off into the wilderness and be with the Shawnee for a few days then come back. Mother finally convinced him to shave his whiskers but he still likes wearing that leather fringe coat. They constantly argue and seem to want different things. Mother favors her home and society and Father prefers the wilderness and solitude. I don't think Mother has been truly happy since they reunited. Oh, James, I was rather hoping that afterwards, everything would be as it was, but it's different now."
Sarah didn't want to mention the recent argument that she had with her mother. Before she set out to leave for Dr. Franklin's funeral, Lady Phillips cornered her and pulled her aside. "Sarah it's high time that we discussed your future. You are 21 and should be married by now."
"Oh mother really," Sarah said not wanting to have this discussion for the 900th time.
"I am serious," Lady Phillips insisted. "You have to prepare yourself for marriage."
"Mother," Sarah said. "I thought that we discussed this. I want to continue working at the Gazette." She said. "Now that Dr. Franklin is gone, James needs all the help he can get."
"That's hardly a suitable occupation for a marriageable young lady," Lady Phillips argued.
"She managed so far," Major Samuel Phillips defended his daughter. "She has proven herself a capable reporter and on the battlefield during war no less." Major Phillips kept a collection of his daughter's articles and read them prodigiously. He rubbed his chest as if feeling a slight pain.
"It was a time of necessity," his wife said. "Now that the war is over, it is no longer necessary. It's time to look to the future. In fact I have invited my old friend Lady Ashby and her son to come for a visit. You remember Richard Ashby, The Baron Brookfield. You used to play together."
"Mother," Sarah said. "I haven't seen the Ashbys in years." Good riddance, she thought.
The last time that she saw Lord Richard Ashby was shortly after his father died and he assumed the title of the Baron Brookfield. Sarah was 8 years old and he was 11. Because of their parents's friendship, the two were often pushed together. Their parents even joked about arranging their marriage. Richard was often polite and well mannered in front of adults, but in private he was different. To be honest, Sarah thought that he was a spoiled bully.
In fact the last time that she saw him was during a fox hunt. Sarah led her horse down a path and saw Richard kneeling over one of the hounds. The hound had clearly been injured and whimpered, clearly suffering. Sarah watched appalled as Richard picked up a rock and smashed it over the dog's head. The hound whined in pain as Richard smashed the rock on top of the dog once more.
There was an eerie silence as Richard stood up. Sarah's eyes filled with tears. She didn't have to look at the dog to realize what happened to it. Richard saw Sarah for the first time. "It was suffering," he said plainly. "It was dying."
Sarah understood that. When an animal is in pain, you put it it out of it's misery. But what terrified her was Richard's reaction. There was a cold emptiness in his eyes. There was also a heightened tone to his voice as if he wanted to, no that he delighted in, hurting the dog.
Sarah shuddered at the memory. She had sporadic contact with the Ashbys since mostly because she and Richard were educated at different boarding schools, but her mother kept up with them. The last she heard was that Richard had fought in the Revolution, on the British side of course, briefly in the South until he was wounded and suffered a fever before returning home to England.
"You don't have to marry him or anybody if you don't want to," Major Phillips said when a coughing fit fell over him.
"Are you alright, Father?" Sarah asked. He hadn't been feeling well lately.
"I'm fine dear," he said gulping down his water.
"Of course you must marry," Lady Phillips argued. "I won't have you working at that paper with the roughian Hiller boy!"
"James Hiller is just a friend," Sarah argued. " I certainly don't feel that way about him." She uncomfortably blushed at the thought.
"But you are both unmarried and there has been much gossip about you," Lady Phillips declared. "You will not sacrifice your modesty for a man who can offer you nothing."
"There is no damned hurry," the major disagreed. "She is still a child."
"She was when you last saw her in England," Lady Phillips snapped. "She has grown into a young woman. You missed most of that. I did not!"
Sarah bit her lip to avoid the sadness and fury at another argument between her parents. She knew how it would end. Her mother would stop speaking but ultimately return to whatever she was doing. Her father would get that far away look in his eyes and within a few hours he would be gone again off into the wilderness. Of course her mother would get her way. She always did.
Sarah did not tell James anything about that argument instead she repeated her question whether she was being silly. James thought. "No, you're not. It's a tense time for you. Well Sarah your folks have been apart for a long time. They changed a lot. You changed a lot too you know. You used to be kind of annoying and really stuffy. Now, your only kind of stuffy and really annoying!"
"Oh you," Sarah jokingly shoved him as he laughed cheering her up. He ducked to avoid her swing but then his voice became serious. "It's probably taken awhile for them to get used to each other again. I'm sure they will be back and happy in love again before you know it."
Sarah nodded wanting to believe him. "So do we have a paper to print?"
"We do," James said.
A few hours later, the paper was fully printed and ready to be released. James and Sarah sighed with relief and exhaustion. "There finished," James sighed. "This is a lot harder than I remembered."
"It is when there are only two of us," Sarah reminded him. " I recommend you hire at least one or two other writers to help with the burden."
James nodded. He stood up. "We did it! Our first paper together!"
"Dr. Franklin would be proud," Sarah said standing next to him. The two hugged with delight when James pulled away and looked into Sarah's eyes. He leaned closer and gave her a kiss.
Sarah pulled away nervous and confused. "Um I have to go. Mrs. Harris's boarding house is very rigid about curfew."
She nervously pulled her wrap around her body.
"Sarah, wait did I do something wrong?" He asked.
"No, you didn't, James," Sarah said. "I have to go really. I will see you in the morning!" She opened the door and ran out into the misty evening.
Alexander Hamilton fumed outside the Capitol building, his recent battle with Thomas Jefferson still fresh in his mind. Of course he didn't have the votes for his Federal restructuring plan and he wouldn't with those two Southern fools, Thomas Jefferson and James Madison so opposed and what was the problem with Aaron Burr? He thought Burr was on his side, but then again he reasoned when was he ever really? His whole "Talk less, smile more. Never let them know what you're against or what you're for" philosophy was really maddening at times.
George Washington was right. He needed to get Congressional approval for his plan. He was also right that winning a war was much easier and governing was a lot harder. If he could bypass Congressional approval now that was a completely different story..
"Alexander, Mr. Hamilton wait up," a familiar voice called. Hamilton turned around to see James Hiller approach him. Perfect just what I need, an intrusive journalist, Hamilton thought bitterly. Before he even caught up with him, James started talking. "What can you tell me about your plan to assume state debt and create a stronger Federal government?"
"Hello James happy to see you too," Hamilton said sarcastically.
"Hi," James shook his hand and continued asking. "You are interested in creating a federal banking system. Do you believe that will be possible with so much dissension with certain delegates like Mr. Jefferson who believes that you are infringing on the state's rights by assumption?"
"Who told you to ask me that?" Hamilton asked cagily.
"Mr. Jefferson," James said pointing at the three men behind waved at the Secretary of Treasury and journalist, Jefferson in particular bore a smug expression. Figures, Hamilton thought, he sarcastically waved back at the Secretary of State hoping his body language screamed, Hi Thomas, I see you there. Nice to see you too. You can go straight to Hell.
James also looked at Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, and Aaron Burr watching them. He remembered something that Sarah said when she pointed out that she knew that Jefferson and his slave, Sally Hemmings were lovers. "You can't ignore the glint in their eyes," she said. She pointed out the number of times when they started at each other holding their gaze for a brief second as though they were the only people in the room or when he "accidentally" brushed up against her hand or shoulder. Not to mention, the small slave boy with familiar bushy red hair as evidence of their affair. Now that James saw it for himself, he couldn't unsee it.
James thought of that when he saw the glint in the other three men's eyes. Thomas Jefferson and James Madison barely tolerated Hamilton, he could tell. Jefferson looked down on him because of his station but their dislike was more political based on differing ideologies. It wasn't personal.
That wasn't what James saw when he looked at Aaron Burr. Burr said nothing, still retaining that enigmatic smile that he always had never letting people know what he really believed. But his eyes showed a blank hardness in them. He not only disliked Alexander Hamilton, he down right loathed him. James wondered if it was his duty to warn his friend.
" Um Alexander you might want to be careful," James nodded over to the three men.
Hamilton waved his hand disdainfully. "About Jefferson and Madison you mean, no. I can handle them." The men turned around as Jefferson and Madison retreated back into the building.
"I didn't mean them," James said. Hamilton followed the younger man's gaze to Aaron Burr who lingered behind observing Hamilton and Hiller as if studying them for some reason before he followed the other two. "I meant Mr. Burr, sir." James said when he was out of ear shot.
Hamilton smirked. "'Yon Aaron has a lean and hungry look' do you mean?" He asked quoting Julius Caesar. James shrugged. " I know how to handle him too. Besides Burr wouldn't betray me. It would ruin his neutrality."
James brightened up. He had a job to do. "Now about my questions."
Hamilton was about to decline but he couldn't bring himself to do it.
He reasoned that with the loss of Benjamin Franklin, James was as desperate to prove himself as he was. Neither President Washington nor any of the Congressional members attended the funeral knowing that it would become even more of a circus than it already was. They had a moment of silence before the session then a private memorial service.
Besides Hamilton liked James. He was the only one with a quill that moved fast enough to keep up with his loquaciousness. Though even the reporter had his limits. James joked that there wasn't enough ink in the 13 colonies to put the man's entire six hour speech to the Constitutional Convention into the Pennsylvania Gazette so Gazette readers were going to have to make do with a summary.
Hamilton even considered James a friend. He reminded him a great deal of himself, a fellow "gentleman of low birth." He also reminded him a great deal of the late John Laurens, someone with strong passion, ideals, and a moral compass. He didn't like James the same way that he liked Laurens. He more of thought of James as a kid brother, one he never had. Maybe the young man that his son Phillip would grow up to become one day.
Besides politically, it made good sense to cultivate friendships with the press. They were the ones who made your words come alive or caused you to go down in flames. You would never have to say that they twisted the news or that the news that they printed was fake. Hamilton slowed his steps so James could catch up to him. "Walk with me, James." Alexander invited him.
James followed him quill and paper ready. He had to be ready. Hamilton was not only a great talker, but a very animated one. He spoke fast and constantly moved as he spoke. His hands were almost separate creatures to themselves as they constantly flailed about as if independent from his body. It was an exercise in futility to keep up with him. Luckily, James managed.
"James, we need a strong Federal government," Hamilton said. "Otherwise, everything we fought for is meaningless. The words that we wrote in the U.S. Constitution might as well just be hollow words on parchment if we cannot be one. We would just be 13 small countries rather than one entire nation. Assuming state debts is a resource that I would not have done if we had come to an agreement sooner. The most important resource that we can use to create a stronger financial system is trade between other countries and to do that we need a federal banking system. That's why it is necessary to assume the state funds. No government system is perfect nor is ours. That's why we have amendments and can change it as we see fit."
"So how do you intend to push your plan through despite the rejection from Congress?" James inquired. By now the two had walked towards the main road. James looked up to see a familiar beautiful figure walk on the other side heading for the post office.
"Well I may have to bypass Congressional approval with a bipartisanship gesture," Hamilton said. "I have a plan right now but it is still in the early stages and I can't reveal it just yet." James stopped writing and Hamilton sensed that the reporter stopped paying attention and he was talking to himself.
The Treasury Secretary decided to test that theory. "In fact I had to slit the throat of the last reporter who asked me. Then I chopped him up into little pieces and buried him in the garden underneath Eliza's rhodendrons." No reaction. "That was before I went into a song and dance about the murder."
Hamilton followed James's eyes towards Sarah Phillips. He couldn't resist a playful grin as he cleared his throat.
James came back to earth as he realized that he had been daydreaming. Not very professional to say the least but he couldn't help himself. Sarah looked so different these days. Gone was the red ponytail and blue plain dress. Instead, she wore a fashionable pink gown with a full skirt and a tight blouse that revealed her breasts. Her hair was knotted and curled in a becoming style. Instead of a girl, she was a woman of the 18th century.
James however was dressed as plain as always with starched white shirt and leggings, black breeches, a light green waistcoat, a dark green overcoat, and a black tricornored hat. He thought he looked nice, but just then James felt ashamed over how poor he seemed.
As James looked at Sarah, he remembered their kiss from earlier. He felt a sense of exhilaration and longing as he did it but felt ashamed when Sarah turned away from him. He knew why. Despite considering herself an American, Sarah was still a proper wealthy lady. She would never be content to marry someone like him, a poor orphan with no past even if he finally gained a future as a small business/newspaper owner.
As if reading his mind, Hamilton motioned to Sarah who entered the shop unaware that she was being unobserved. "Interested in the sight of Philadelphian beauty?"
James feigned confusion. "What are you talking about?"
"I just saw you looking at the woman that you have worked with every day for years as though you just saw her for the first time," Hamilton said. "Are you courting her?"
Jamrs shook his head. "What no," He insisted. "We are friends. We just work together."
"Uh-huh," Hamilton said not believing him. "That sound that I hear in the distance appears to be wedding bells." He said jokingly putting his hand to his ear.
"Why are you so interested in wether Sarah and I are a couple?" James asked.
"Well it provides a distraction from my problems at Congress," Hamilton said.
"I am so glad that my love life is so entertaining to you," James said sardonically.
"And another thing, the one thing we can all agree on is we like you children," Hamilton said. "You made us come alive by telling our stories. It's about time you grabbed your own."
"Sorry to disappoint, but this story is going to have to continue without an ending," James said. "The answer is no, Sarah and I are not engaged."
"Really what's stopping you from doing so? The fact that she's beautiful, intelligent, passionate about her causes, and unattached? The fact that the Phillipses already have a reputation as one of the wealthiest families in this area of the nation? The fact that you have the same look on your face that I did when I first met Eliza?" And Angelica, Hamilton thought but did not articulate.
James sighed. "Even if I did feel that way about Sarah, what chance would someone like me have-?"
" 'The tiniest of acorns in a forest of mighty oaks?,'" Hamilton suggested recalling their first meeting. "James, I am going to be honest with you and do not take this badly. You are a brilliant man and one of the most honest men that I know. There aren't that many that I can truly say that about. You are committed to your goals and ideals in a way that I used to be before the realities of war and government set in. You are almost as good a writer as I am."
"What?" James asked playfully.
"Almost," Hamilton repeated. "But I am going to tell you this right now if you let Miss Phillips out of your life, it will be your fault. There is nothing stopping any other man from swooping her up and catching her. She has beauty, intelligence, wealth all of the desirable qualities that any man would want in a wife. In fact, if I weren't married," and didn't have such a complicated love life of my own, Hamilton didn't want to say. "I would make a play for her myself."
"You wouldn't dare," James said jealousy.
"Like I said if," Hamilton repeated. " But look at her. She could have her pick of any wealthy handsome titled soldier or statesman, but she doesn't. There's no ring on her finger or impending arrangement that I am aware. Now ask yourself why that is." James was silent considering, so Hamilton continued. "She doesn't want them. She wants you."
"Are you serious?" James asked.
"You think I'm a liar?" Hamilton inquired. "She just doesn't know it yet. But I am warning you if you don't act fast and pursue her, someone else will."
James was silent. Hamilton had a feeling that this was a subject that the younger man did not want to continue so he held him by the shoulders. "What do you say we 'gentleman of low birth' share a drink at the tavern?"
"If you're buying," James agreed. As they walked James said. "Then maybe you can tell me your plans to bypass Congressional approval." He held up his quill and note pad.
Before he could get any more ink on it, Hamilton teasingly removed the notepad from the reporter's hands. "Not a chance."
Sarah walked into the post office as the interviews loomed fresh in her mind. She visited three schools, including Moses's, and in all of these kids she saw a sense of Enlightenment and possibility. This would be the generation that would carry the ideals passed during the war. It was hard not to feel excited. She was particularly fascinated by one little girl, Eliza Southgate who said that she could "drink from the fountain of knowledge." Then she listed several subjects such as "reading, writing, cyphering, French, dancing, geometry, and geography, Latin, and Greek." Sarah was impressed that this young girl was studying so many subjects that would have been forbidden in her mother's day, in Sarah's day. Sarah had an extensive education but wasn't Miss Southgate's caliber at least not at that age. Sarah had to admit that her Latin, Greek, and Geometry were a bit rusty. But Miss Southgate put hers to shame.
Sarah thanked the postmaster as she accepted the package. It was a freshly printed copy of A Vindication of the Rights of Women by Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin. She heard so much about it and just felt compelled to read Mrs. Godwin's work for herself. If she were fortunate, maybe she could interview such a great woman.
Be careful don't idolize a person too much, Sarah warned herself, Remember what happened with Benedict Arnold and Thomas Jefferson. Your problem is you set people up too high and then become crushed when they fall from your estimation. Stop doing that to yourself. They are people just like you filled with flaws and imperfections.
Still she couldn't help but be impressed at such a woman who spoke about education and legal rights for women. Who knew where such thinking could end up? Perhaps equal opportunities and an end to slavery. Sarah was so caught up in her lofty thoughts that she missed the loose rock until she tripped over it and nearly fell in front of an oncoming carriage.
Sarah gave a yelp of surprise as a masculine hand grabbed her by the arm and held her up. "I'm glad I caught you " a smooth male English accented baritone said. "You may have met the business end of a horse's hoof."
"Thank you kind sir you saved my life,-" Sarah looked closely at the man who rescued her and felt her whole body blush. He was incredibly handsome with jet black hair, pale skin, and dark eyes that twinkled with merriment. His fine dark wardrobe suggested money and prestige. He had a slight limp in his right leg that Sarah attributed to a possible war wound.
It took a second before she remembered her package. "Oh dear my book!" She gasped. She was about to reach for the package that was now on the road when the man gallantly stayed her hand.
"I will get it," he said then kindly retrieved it handing it back to the young woman. "I would not have you face certain death before I had the chance to get to know you once more."
Sarah was puzzled. "Have we met before sir?"
"I should say so," he said. "Sarah don't you recognize me? I'm Richard Ashby."
Sarah looked him up and down. She couldn't believe it. There was nothing in him that reminded her of the spoiled brat that she knew. His eyes once cold and dominant now danced with merriment. "Oh my God, Richard it is nice to see to you again. It is a pleasure."
"More like a surprise," Richard interpreted.
"Well that too," Sarah said. "Mother said that she sent for you but I didn't realize-I mean it's been so long."
"Many years now," Richard said. "Mother is at your parents's place. Your mother said that you were in Philadelphia so I decided to come see you so that we may reminisce."
Sarah was stunned. She was uncertain about this gentleman who was barely in the form of a boy that she once knew. "The only thing that I remembered about you was a spoiled bully who used to tease me as a child."
"Believe that the years can change a man," Richard said blithely. "Sarah, I am not proud of my behavior as a child but manhood and a war with this new country have changed me. If you give me a chance, I would like to demonstrate that."
Sarah felt weak in the knees and held out her hand. Richard took it and kissed it. If it weren't so improper, Sarah would have swooned right then and there.
"Sarah," she heard James call her. Sarah rolled her eyes as her colleague approached her from the direction of the nearby tavern with Alexander Hamilton right behind. "You finished with the article yet?"
Sarah rolled her eyes. "Yes, James of course."
"Well I'm done with mine. We probably ought to high tail it back to the print shop and get these printed." James pointed out.
"James," Sarah said testily. "I will be there soon."
"I am heartily sorry," Richard said. "We are old friends and Sarah and I wanted to catch up."
Sarah's etiquette kicked in. "Oh I am sorry, James Hiller, Alexander Hamilton, I would like to introduce you to Lord Richard Ashby, The Baron Brookfield. Lord Ashby, I would like you to meet Alexander Hamilton, the Secretary of Treasury and James Hiller, proprieter of the Pennsylvania Gazette."
"My Lord," Alexander said. "It's a pleasure."
"Yes impressed," James said barely containing his sarcasm. Hamilton gave James a slight jab in the ribs. From the way that the other man looked made James even more ashamed about the way he looked.
Richard smirked at the other two. "Ah yes, General Washington's former aide-de-camp and Benjamin Franklin's former scribe."
Hamilton bristled. "A real pleasure." Now he couldn't contain his annoyance.
"Sarah if you would rather go with Mr. Hilder-"
"-Hiller," James corrected.
Richard continued as if uninterrupted. "-I will understand."
"No, I can spare a few hours," Sarah said. "If you will have me."
"It would be my pleasure," Richard stuck out his elbow and Sarah accepted it. They turned to the other two men. "You are welcome to join us of course."
Hamilton shook his head. "Thank you but I have to advise President Washington on how to run this nation!"
"And I have a paper to print," James said.
"James here," Sarah handed him her notes. "That way, it will meet deadline."
"Thanks," James said.
"Now we must be off," Richard said. "Mr. Hiller, Mr. Hamilton."
Sarah smiled. "Gentlemen." She didn't notice the hard look on Richard's face when Sarah called them gentlemen. James did and he would be his meager pay that Hamilton did too.
James and Hamilton waited until Sarah and Richard were out of earshot before James shook his head. "What a peacock," James said about the Duke.
Hamilton smirked in agreement. "James, remember what I said about acting fast?" James nodded. "You may have to act sooner than that."
Henri Maurice Richard Artois LeFevbre de Lafayette dipped his quill in the ink and signed his letter with the proud flourish that he had been using in his correspondence. He finished up the last of his pastry as a servant gathered his plate. Henri called the servant back as he wrapped the letter in an envelope and addressed his letter in care of M. James Hiller of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Unlike his friends, Henri was not a prolific letter writer usually he was too active to sit still long enough. But because of the death of Dr. Franklin (France had a ceremony in his honor), Henri longed to keep his friends up to date.
"Phillippe, could you post this letter please?" Henri asked the footman. The footman bowed and accepted the letter as well as the dessert tray.
Every once in awhile, Henri still felt the urge to pinch himself to see if he was dreaming that he was really living in France and was really the adopted son of his hero, the Marquis de Lafayette. But sure enough it was true and he was here miles above where he was used to be. Even now he sat in his fine ornate bedroom and was dressed in the finest white silk shirt, doublet, and stockings, and black breeches. His coat was a flashy bright purple with shiny golf buttons which he still sometimes fiddled with out of a nervous habit. His dark hair was tied back in the fashion and his face once sallow now rounded out in comfort. He was still a hearty eater as the pastries in his room testified, but his active lifestyle gave him a high metabolism so weight didn't remain. His dark skin and eyes, gifts inherited from his late Romani parents, gave him an exotic air that many women could not resist.
He remembered when his new life started in France just as he and Lafayette emerged from the ship. A crowd surrounded the gangplank cheering on the Marquis, whom they called "The Hero of Two Worlds."
Lafayette accepted their gratitude with exuberant friendly smiles as he and Henri managed to maneuver their way through the crowd. Henri bounced by his hero's side excited to see his new home talking a mile a minute about what he was going to do with his new found wealth. Lafayette warmly chuckled as he searched the crowd peeking over faces for specific ones. Suddenly, he widely grinned as he called "Adrienne! "Anastasie!" He called for his wife and daughter.
"Papan," a young female voice called. Lafayette stretched out his arms as a dark haired young girl tumbled right into them embracing her father.
"Anastasie," Lafayette said grandly. "I would not have recognized you. You have grown several inches, ma petite jeune fille!"
"I'm ten," Anastasie insisted aware of her own importance.
Lafayette swung her around. "Of course, you are ma Cherie," he said.
He set Anastasie down and approached the beautiful dark haired woman by her daughter's side. Like Anastasie, she had a porcelain doll like appearance and was dressed in a fancy embroidered gown.. "Adrienne," Lafayette said to his wife "I have missed you every day."
"Welcome home, Gilbert," Adrienne said. She didn't get any farther. Instead, Lafayette took her in his arms and gave her a deep loving kiss that rooted her feet to the floor.
"It is good to see you," Lafayette said as he pulled away from his wife. He beckoned Henri forward with an open hand. " Adrienne, Anastasie, this is Henri the boy I told you about. He will be living with us."
Anastasie jumped up and down excited. "Are you to be my brother?"
"Yes I am," Henri said.
Delighted, Anastasie swung Henri's hand up and down and sang. "I got a brother!" "I got a brother!"
"Anastasie, that is enough," Adrienne said. The Marchioness de Lafayette was originally happy to be reunited with her husband, but now her face fell with seriousness and some kind of hurt. She walked up to the young boy and stuck out her hand. Henri awkwardly took it. "Welcome...Henri…," she said with a long pause before and after his name. "Gilbert, I would have words with you when we go home."
At the Lafayette household, Henri stood in the halls overhearing his newly adopted parents arguing.
"What were you thinking?" Adrienne yelled at her husband. "Taking in this boy that you hardly know!"
"I explained his story," Lafayette said. "I told you in the letter. He was a great help in America both as a drummer boy and companion. He had no family and I could not leave him there to fend for himself. Anyway, you agreed."
"To save face," Adrienne said. "What was I supposed to think when your letters are filled with news about this boy? For all I know, he could be yours!"
" I hardly would have fathered him when I was 11," Lafayette said. "We aren't that far apart in age. Thirteen maybe…"
"...This is hardly the time for your jokes, Gilbert," Adrienne said witheringly. "What are we supposed to do with this boy?"
"What we would do with any child," Lafayette suggested. "Bring him up, educate him, raise him as our own son, have him be a playmate for Anastasie."
"Anastasie already had a playmate," Adrienne insisted. "Or have you forgotten?" There was a long silence as Adrienne continued. "Of course you would forget. You weren't there when she was born and you certainly weren't there when she died!"
Lafayette's voice was so soft that Henri had to strain to hear him. "Of course I did not forget, Adrienne. I grieve every day for Henriette as much as you do. More because you got to be with her when I did not. But Henri could fill the space that she left behind"
"You make it sound like our daughter was a poodle and all we have to do after she died is get ourselves another child as a replacement," Adrienne said incredulously. "No strange child can replace what we lost!"
"Nothing of the kind, l'amour," Lafayette said. "Nothing can replace Henriette, but the love that you had for our daughter could now be given to this young boy."
"And you love having this admirer about," Adrienne said. "He is the son that you do not have."
"He is," Lafayette said. "Can he stay?"
There was another long silence as Adrienne said firmly. " He can stay but that does not make him my son!"
Henri winced. How selfish could he possibly be to think that his presence would not stir up the household? All he could think of was the food, fancy clothes with shiny buttons, and the rich home. He did not even think how much he disrupted Gilbert's family by being there. Henri backed up and banged against a statue. Lafayette heard the crash and left the room to see Henri running down the stairs and out the door.
Henri hid inside the stables as the horses snorted objecting to the new arrival. Henri leaned against the wall. What would he do now? Return to Philadelphia?
He heard a familiar voice call his name and saw a pair of stockinged feet and shiny black boots standing over him. "Are you going to do this all the time?" Lafayette asked.
Henri curled up into a ball. "I should not have come."
"Why do you say that?" Lafayette asked.
"She doesn't like me," Henri said. "I was so selfish! I thought that your family would like me, but they don't. I did not think about your feelings." Tears welled up in his eyes.
"Henri, she does like you," Lafayette said. "That is just Adrienne's way. I told you when we first met that I had two daughters and that was true at the time. Before I left to join Gener- I mean President Georges Washington, Adrienne told me that she was expecting. We both knew that she would deliver while I was away, but-Well while I fought in the Revolution, she gave birth to a daughter, Henriette. Unfortunately, Henriette died while she was still an infant. I never saw her. Adrienne has suffered a tremendous loss, one that unfortunately she had to bear alone, so I am just as guilty as you are that I did not consider your feelings or hers."
"So what happens now," Henri asked. "Do you want me to return to Philadelphia? Maybe I could stay and be a servant rather than your son! That would not be so bad!"
"Absolutement, non," Lafayette insisted. "You are staying here as my son and that's all there is to it. Adrienne will warm up to you, I am certain. In the meantime, make an effort to understand her."
" Do you think I can?" Henri asked.
"The boy who persisted to get a wild turkey feather would dare to ask me that question?" Lafayette jovially asked. "Henri, I know your determination and I know that you will do the right thing and I also know that there are some pastries with jelly that I will be forced to eat myself if you do not come with me."
At the mention of food, Henri sprang up. " You wouldn't dare!" He laughed as he followed his newly adopted father into the chateau.
Since then Henri had blossomed living in the Lafayette household. He enjoyed playing with Anastasie, even getting into the act of teasing her like a brother should. Of course Lafayette was as outgoing and cheerful as ever and Henri could not have a better more supportive father.
Henri even made some leeway in his relationship with Adrienne. She still hadn't warmed up to his presence, but she was kind to him in a vague pleasant way. Henri noticed that she still paused before and after his name as though she were trying to force the name out of her mouth. When she finished saying his name, there was an air of sadness as though Henri could hear the unspoken "-ette" that Adrienne wanted to say after the "Henri."
Henri not only adjusted to his home life, but in France in general. Far from the boy who did not think reading was necessary, Henri began to pay close attention to books and essays about philosophy and politics. He took part in salons as people discussed current events and figures like Voltaire, Dierderot, Rousseau and others. He became a close acquaintance with many thinkers of the day especially those that spoke about liberty, equality, and fraternity. There was always something new to learn and discover and Henri was excited.
His favorite books though were romantic tales of legend and chivalry. He loved the stories of King Arthur, Charlemagne and all of their knights. His favorite book was Don Quixote and read it so often he knew it by heart. Sometimes, he imagined himself as a knight going off on a quest. Besides his love for romantic tales, he also was incredibly adept in fencing, clay shooting, and horseback riding.
In a year's time, Henri hoped to join the musketeers. Let James and Sarah be the writers and report the news, he thought of his close friends, I will make the news as a soldier and spy.
He also had an active social life particularly with the women. He lost his virginity at fourteen and since then became something of a rascal and a lady's man. He acquired something of a reputation among the courtesans as a passionate and romantic lover.
Inside the chateau, Henri swung his sabre in a few practice fencing moves, but couldn't contain his boredom. He picked up his purple plumed hat. He left his bedroom and walked down the stairs.
"Where are you going?" Anastasie's voice made Henri jump.
" I am going out," Henri insisted.
"Maman said that it might be dangerous," the girl said. While the Lafayettes were generally well liked there were some dangerous factions that did not care for them. The nobility thought with Lafayette's free thinking ways that he was a traitor to his class. The lower class did not like them because of their title. Adrienne insisted that her family ("and...Henri…." She added) have armed escorts when they left the grounds.
" I know what I am doing," Henri said. " But if she asks, tell your mother that I am bringing my pistol and sabre in case of trouble." To demonstrate he placed the weapons by his side and nodded at his adopted sister as he left the house.
Henri mounted his white horse, Quixote and rode to his favorite brothel. When he reached his destination, Henri dismounted. Two women dressed in elaborate gowns must have seen him coming. For they opened the door as soon as Henri reached it.
The older red haired woman motioned the younger man forward. "We were beginning to wonder when you should up, Henri. We have other clients."
" I knew that you would arrive," the younger blond girl said.
"Well Genevieve," Henri said to the redhead then nodded at the blond. "Madeline, I am here. So what are we waiting for?" The courtesans giggled as they each took one of Henri's hands and led him inside.
Henri laid in the silk bed between the two woman. He drank from the Bordeaux wine and sensuously sucked on a grape that Madeline fed him. Madeline laughed as Henri turned on his charm. "Oh, Henri you make me blush."
"Well it's true," Henri said. "You are like summer. In fact, shall I compare thee to a Summer's day/Thou art more lovely and more temperate/Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May/And Summer's lease hath all too short a date."
"That is beautiful, Henri," Madeline said tears in her eyes.
"I wrote it myself," Henri winked.
"What about me?" Genevieve asked.
Henri then turned to the red haired courtesan and thought. "Hmm, I have one. She doth teaches the torches to burn bright/It seems she hangs up on the cheek of night/Like a bright jewel in an Ethiope's ear/Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear."
"Lovely," Genevieve applauded.
"There is plenty more where that came from," Henri teased as the courtesans lowered him back down on the bed.
After a couple of hours, Henri kissed Madeline and Genevieve's hands, paid for the entertainment, tipped his hat and left. He remounted Quixote wanting to enjoy the nice spring evening and take the long way back. He was caught up in the scenery that he almost missed the feminine scream. Stunned, Henri clicked Quixote to move faster as he ran in the direction of the scream.
Henri arrived to see three young noblemen standing over a woman. The fact that one man was nearly undressed and that the woman on the bottom struggled and tried to keep her legs together revealed exactly what was going on.
Neither the men nor the woman noticed him until Henri commanded "Let her go!" The men looked up and Henri recognized them. They were the sons of the Marquis de Cygne, a trio of bird brained bullies.
"Leave us alone, Gypsy brat," Rodolfe the eldest commanded. "This doesn't concern you."
The young woman rose her head and Henri could see the terrified "help me" expression on her face.
" I am afraid that it does concern me," Henri said. "See we are near the property of the Marquis de Lafayette and everything that is on it belongs to him and will someday belong to me, so I suggests that you boys do not violate anything or anybody on it."
Rodolfe laughed. "You are not a Lafayette. You are nothing, just some Gypsy foundling from America!"
"Be that as it may, I will not let you hurt this girl!" He said. The men were about to return to their previous assault when Henri swiftly took out his pistol and fired it into the air in a warning shot. The men looked annoyed, but when Henri pointed his pistol at them they stopped. "Now it is common knowledge that I am a better shot than any of you, so if you wish to continue this then by all means do so. I haven't done my target practice today."
Rodolfe considered then he motioned to his brothers. "Come we go." The three men sauntered away.
Henri dismounted and held his hand to the young woman. "Are you alright?" He asked.
The woman nodded as Henri helped her stand. She was biracial with caramel colored skin and light blue eyes. Her hair was extremely dark and curly and ran haphazardly down to her shoulders. Her simple light blue almost gray dress and tattered shawl revealed her to be a peasant. She looked downward never meeting her rescuer's gaze.
"Merci beacoup for saving my life, Monsieur de Lafayette.", she said timidly.
Henri smiled. "Please call me, Henri. What is your name?"
"Celine Chauvel," the woman said with a curtsy.
Henri grinned. "Such a beautiful name, like music," he said.
"It is only my name, nothing special," Celine said shyly. She then picked up a yellow basket. "Mon dieu," she said stunned. She panicked and ran to several small pieces of fabric that were either lying on the muddy ground or in the wet gutter. Celine picked up the fabric and started to cry. "Non, I am supposed to sell everyone of these. I will be removed from my stepfather will be so furious!"
Henri gently touched her shoulder. "Now, now," he assured her. "It will be alright. I can help. Now where do you work?"
"Madame Boudreux's dress shop. I am a seamstress there, but she lets me peddle the fabric that we do not use. I must give the money that I make to my mother and stepfather! I am the only one in my family that is earning money! My stepfather, Papan Vincent would surely beat me if I return without money." She put her hands in her head and continued to sob.
"How much is each individual piece?" Henri asked.
"10 livres a piece," Celine said.
"And how many are there?" Henri asked opening up his money bag.
"500 in a basket but-" Celine said.
Henri took out 5,000. "Here this will help." He said but Celine stayed his hand.
"I could not ask you to do that, Monsieur," Celine said.
"I want to do this," Henri said. "Please, I want to help. If you like, I will even walk you home and explain the situation to your stepfather."
Celine looked downward. "He will tell me that I brought it upon myself."
"Then I will make something else up and put all of the blame on myself." He gave her a pleading look. "It would be my pleasure to help you."
He stood up and held out his hand once more. Celine stood next to him as he walked her to Quixote. Henri expertly mounted the horse and led Celine up by the arm. He set the young woman behind him on the saddle. "Hold on tightly," Henri said. Celine nodded and gripped him so tightly around the waist that he felt that a vice manacled around him. Henri pulled back the reins, clicked his tongue, and asked Celine for directions to her house.
Celine's house was so small that Henri, not by any means a tall man, had to take off his hat and crouch down before he entered.
"Where have you been you stupid girl?" A rough voice commanded. Henri turned to see dark haired man with a bushy beard sit at a nearby table. He pointed at the young woman with a whiskey bottle.
"You were supposed to be home an hour ago!"
"I am sorry, Papan Vincent," Celine said softly to her stepfather. "I was-I was-"
"The fault was all mine," Henri said stepping up to defend her. "My name is Henri La Fevbre de Lafayette and my horse was rather nervous and nearly ran this young woman over. I managed to get her to safety. She is not hurt, but was frightened." He looked at Celine to confirm the story. She nodded.
"Thank you for saving my daughter's life Monsiuer," a frail voice said. Until she spoke, Henri did not realize that anyone else was in the room. A woman lay on a nearby bed. She had dark hair and skin and wore a dirty nightdress. She coughed into a handkerchief and Henri could see specks of blood flow onto the handkerchief.
"It is a pleasure, Madame," Henri said politely tipping his hat.
"Yes it is a miracle," Papan Vincent said flatly. "How much did you earn?" Celine handed him the money. He counted and them angrily. "This is all you earned?" He fumes and grabbed his stepdaughter by the arm.
"Monsiuer," Henri interrupted and held out the money that he initially offered Celine."The near accident with the horse also caused her wares to fall to the ground. I would like to pay for the losses."
He held out the money. Vincent hesitated but balled the dollar bills onto his fist. He mumbled something that sounded sort of like a grateful "merci," so Henri accepted it.
There was an awkward silence as Henri doffed his hat. "I will be off, Monsiuer, Madame, Mademoiselle."
"I will walk you out, Monsiuer," Celine quickly said. She led Henri out the door. Just as he left, Henri heard Vincent spit and mutter "dirty aristos!"
"I would like to thank you once more, Monsiuer," Celine said.
"That is alright," Henri said. "I hope that I did not cause trouble."
"He does not mean it," Celine said. "I am the only wage earner in the family now that Maman fell ill and Papa Vincent cannot find work."
"You have no brothers or sisters?" Henri asked.
"I did," Celine said. "My younger brother and sister fell ill last year when we could not afford bread. They died and Paul, my older brother is imprisoned in the Bastille. He always protected Maman and me- now I must do it."
"I will be glad to help in anyway I can," Henri offered.
Celine shook her head. "Non, non Monsiuer. I could not ask you. I could not accept charity. Even if I did, I could not reward you in a way that you-"
Henri understood. "I would not accept it. Oh you're beautiful, do not get me wrong. But I am nothing, but a true gentleman." He thought. "Are you free anytime?"
"Why?" Celine asked.
"I regularly attend the Comedie Francaise and I wonder if you would accompany me," Henri invited.
"I do not know," Celine hedged.
"Come on I am good company and I promise you will enjoy yourself," Henri suggested.
Celine shook her head. "I could not. You do not want to be seen with someone like me."
"Then why did I ask you?" Henri asked playfully. But he could tell that Celine was nervous, yet determined. "Alright, no Comedie Francaise. How about accompanying me on a promenade around the park?"
"I can do that," Celine agreed. "I go in Saturday afternoon."
"Then I will meet you in the morning," Henri said jovially. He remounted Quixote then waved gallantly at the young woman. "Now I will be off. Au revoir, Celine."
For the first time, Celine looked up and met Henri's gaze. "Au revoir...Henri."
Author's Note
I decided to title each chapter with portions of quotes from American History, not all of them from the chapter title is from John F. Kennedy's famous inaugural speech. The one that also included "Ask not what your country can do for you." I may even include a chapter title quoting from Obama, but I will not NOT use a chapter title from Trump. I will not dignify that man's words with a quote.
The details about Dr. Franklin's family and his funeral are accurate. It was also true that Washington and the other members of Congress did not attend.
Sarah Franklin Bache was not near as shrill or as antagonistic as I write her. Reportedly, she was a very kind woman who acted as her father's hostess after her mother died. Actually, the argument between James and a Franklin family member was going to be between James and William. But alas William was so estranged from his father that he never even attended his funeral and remained in England for the rest of his life. But I wanted to offer a compelling reason why we never saw the Franklin family in the series and I thought that it would make sense that it was because Mrs. Bache did not like them.
There is a small reference to the Disney cartoon, Ben and Me.
The line about James feeling like he could trust Dr. Franklin is a play on his voice actor Walter Cronkite who was often referred to as "The Most Trusted Man in America."
In Liberty's Kids among my favorite interactions between the main characters and historic figures was the scene in "An American in Paris" where Hamilton and James compared their orphaned and fatherless backgrounds. I definitely felt the kinship between the two "gentlemen of low birth" as much as they did and wanted to explore that even before the musical was a twinkle in Lin-Manuel Miranda's eye. The musical just made it more upfront and intensified my interest in what I imagined would be a close friendship that would soon be torn apart because of corruption and political ideals.
Yes I referred to Hamilton's bisexuality with Laurens, but my preferred couple is either Hamilton/Angelica or Hamilton/Eliza (There will be enough references to both).
Of course the description of Hamilton's body, particularly his hands, moving about is not really about Hamilton himself so much as it is about Lin-Manuel Miranda's portrayal of him. (That's not acting either. Seriously watch Miranda in interviews or the #Ham4Ham videos. The man couldn't sit stil or fade quietly into the background if his life depended on it.) Plus Hamilton himself always struck me as someone with a lot of nervous energy. Quite often people who try to be the center of attention constantly move about as if nonverbally trying to say "Look at me. Listen to me." It would be weird to assume that he wasn't like that in real life.
Eliza Southgate was a real person. Her story about her education can be found in the book, Girls: Growing Up Female in America by Pam Colman
A Vindication of the Rights of Women was actually published in 1792 not 1790.
The Lafayettes really did have a daughter named Henriette that was born and died while her father was in America. It was just too tempting to put her into the fic particularly when she shared the female name for Henri. I magined what that would be like for Adrienne to encounter this strange boy whose name was so similar to her late daughter's. Don't worry, she will warm up to him.
The French word for swan is "Cygne."