Chapter 2: Enlistment
Genevieve finally got back from the Schuylers at around six and had taken a quick bath. Wringing out her hair and drying it, she tied it up into a knot as she put on a chemise and petticoat. Scrunching up her nose at the corset resting on her bed, she looked at her figure and frowned distastefully. It'd be hard to hide herself in the army with the form the corset shaped her to be. Muscle built up in her arms and legs but her waist was too trim and narrow. Hopefully the jackets would cover it.
Dressing herself to prevent a chill, she descended the stairs and found her siblings on that floor instead of their rooms. "I'm going to the tavern, alright? Find either me or Papa if you get hungry but there should be some fruits on the counter." She said tiredly. They acknowledged her words from where Bennett was helping Ettie with her maths. "Don't open the door for strangers." She added although it was an unnecessary warning before going through the connected doorway to the back of the tavern.
The tavern wasn't exactly busy. There were a few patrons here and there and she greeted her father. "How were the Schuylers?"
"Good. They send their warm wishes as well." She informed as she walked around the counter. The door opened and in came three men. They occupied a table, laughing boisterously as one of them waved a hand at one of her father's workers. It was a blond man around her age. Oliver Smith.
"A pint of Sam Adams, if it isn't too much to ask!" Her eyes scanned his face and she broke out into a smile. Going over to him, she narrowed her eyes at him in mirth.
"Well, if it isn't the man who stepped too close to a horse's ass." She smirked as the man blushed. Her eyes ran over the other two men at the table. One was a bulky man with dark skin but his brown eyes were cheerful and friendly. The other was…
Lafayette. Blinking, she stared at him to make sure it was really him. Yes, it was. She could faintly recall him wearing the same navy trench coat and white shirt. The defined cheekbones, hair pulled up into a ponytail, brown eyes. Of course it was him.
"Your Sam Adams - anything else?" Oliver asked with a curious glance at Genevieve.
"Genevieve," Lafayette stood immediately and made his way to her. "It is so good to see you again." He bowed deeply towards her and she allowed him to kiss her knuckles again. His lips stayed longer this time, not moving and she didn't mind. "Ma chérie," her cheeks flared and she knew that his friends were looking at her.
"Monsieur Lafayette," she murmured and he finally straightened. This time, he didn't let go of her hand. The dark-skinned man at the table gestured to Oliver to come closer and whispered something in his ear. The blond nodded and left for more drinks. The Frenchman didn't know what to say next and he fumbled for words.
"Uh, I-"
"Two more pints," Oliver interrupted, putting down the mugs and dragging Genevieve away from the flustered marquis. "Well, then." He pulled her into the back and cocked an eyebrow. She crossed her arms and looked away. "You like him?" She could even hear the smile in his voice.
"Shut up, Ollie," she snapped. "It's not funny."
"No, it's not because you finally found someone. Can't you be satisfied with that?" He urged and she sighed, finally looking up at him. The brunette had met him when he was just fourteen, looking for work and had been her only male friend for six years.
"Maybe if the British wasn't on our shore." She said dryly. "Registration is open and I'm going no matter what."
"Then use my name, at least." Oliver had know her dreams since she'd first had them. His eyes were wide and sincere. Hugging her tightly, he let go when there was a loud yell. "Mulligan!" He yelled back, storming out of the back to see the black man on the table. "What did I say about the tables!" Genevieve stayed in the back, looking at the kegs of beer and other things such as bread and cured meat. He's too kind. The brunette mused sadly as she reappeared in the tavern. By now, Aaron Burr and another stranger were talking with the other three. Lafayette looked up at her and she ignored the way they seemed to glow with effortless care and sincerity. Helping clean up the counters and tables, she worked until the five of them began cheering way too loudly, leaving the tavern.
"Rowdy bunch, aren't they?" William remarked, "I hope your brother isn't like that when he's older, Genny."
"Well, it depends if you were like that when you were young, Papa." She murmured in response. More men trickled in as Genevieve made quick rounds to see if everyone was satisfied. Oliver tended to the bar while she weaved around the tables. After the clock struck ten, William was yawning already, the rush hour just meeting its climax. Not many came today. "Ollie and I can handle the shift if you're getting too tired. It's a slow day today." The brunette said and William ran a hand through his blond hair.
"Thank you, Genny," he muttered and went through the doorway of their house. Ollie made sure every patron was satisfied before joining his best friend at the bar with a pack of cards. They played to pass the time and by around twelve, guess who stumbled through the door again into the empty tavern?
That's right. Those four doofuses. Sighing, she pushed herself off from the corner and went over to the exhausted quadruplets. They were still 'whooping' and howling with excitement as they asked for a few drinks. "You know it is past twelve." She scolded them gently and the stranger she didn't know looked at her lazily. His brown eyes flickered over her figure - something she noticed - before smiling.
"Of course. I've seen you enough today that I suppose it's time to become acquaintances. John Laurens."
"Hercules Mulligan."
"Alexander Hamilton."
"Genevieve Alcott," she curtseyed, "What'll be?"
"Sam Adams, all around." John announced with a large smile, "and keep em coming." She ended up serving them another round as they lounged around on chairs, drunk and tired. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Alexander raise a glass as the other three echoed his sentiments. They clinked glasses when John stood up suddenly.
"Raise a glass to freedom. Something they can never take away, no matter what they tell you." They gathered and she smiled at their camaraderie, despite only existing briefly, it was warming to the heart. Pouring herself a glass of water as well, she glanced at Ollie who had fallen asleep slouched. His head rested atop his hands on the bar counter and his whole body was lax.
"Raise a glass to freedom," she whispered to herself as they wrapped arms around each other and walking up to her to leave their mugs. Hercules, Alexander and John merely left it there but Lafayette braced himself against the counter, eyes unfocused. His three friends glanced at them giddily and flopped down on the chairs. She reached to take his cup but he grabbed her wrist, smiling widely.
"Lafayette?" She asked, confused when his hand left her wrist to touch her jaw gently.
"Ma chérie, I will fight this war for you." It was something utterly sappy to say to her but she liked the thought nonetheless.
"I don't need someone to fight a war I can fight myself, ma chérie." She teased although with a slight pang of guilt. There might not be a day where she'll see his face again. Despite their brief interactions - she barely knew the man - she knew that he was different. Maybe it was the French way. Ah, her French was still rusty and she cringed at the accent but he didn't seem to mind, stroking her jaw softly. The touch wasn't intrusive and she smiled softly, reaching up a hand to hold his wrist - not stopping the action but letting him know she knew what he was doing. "I fear this is goodbye."
"Beautiful women like you should not know pain, but obedience is not a virtue I believe in. Do whatever you want, ma chérie, but be warned that I will always protect you." He thought she was joking.
She was dead serious.
"Lafayette!" Hercules called and he flinched away. Genevieve didn't mind, knowing that it must've been awkward for her friends but was disappointed at the rush of cool air that replaced his warm hand. "We've gotta get home before we're robbed."
"Bien sûr. I will see you again. Au revoir," he mumbled and with one last, lingering glance, the four of them departed.
.
Genevieve woke at the break of dawn, taking out her dirty clothes from the day before's training and slipping into them instead of her usual corset and gowns. Tying up her hair, she hid them under a hat and sat at the desk in her bed. Writing letters to her father and siblings, she tucked them into a small chest before bringing out new paper and writing to the Schuylers.
Eliza, Penny, and Angelica each got their own letters while the two boys and the elder Philip Schuyler had two for the three of them. Finally, after about two hours of writing, she paused on the last few sheets. She debated writing to a man she barely knew, to one she had met only a day before but his mark could not be erased from her brain. He was handsome and well-mannered, but other than that, she knew nothing of him.
But she wanted to. So she said so in her letter, neat scrawl pouring down the page as she used up half of a second sheet as well. Signing it with practiced flourishes, she let the ink dry before sealing it with melted wax in an envelope. And so it got sealed with the rest of the letters in her little wooden box that was tucked away under her bed.
After she finished with her hand cramping and a few ink stains on her skin, she bounded her breasts not too tightly but tight enough. She neglected any makeup and made sure the clothing hid all her curves. Tiptoeing past her slumbering family members' rooms and out the door. The sun had risen but there were few people in the streets or square except for a few patriots. Clearing her throat once, twice, three times to make sure she could pass for just a young man's voice. There was no coming back from this. Then, going up to the patriots, she clenched her fists, fingernails digging into her palms so hard she was sure it'd draw blood.
"Excuse me, sirs." She muttered, voice breathy from the strain. Her head was bowed so they wouldn't be suspicious. She was already unlucky with no facial hair. "But can you point me to the enlistment?"
"How old are you, boy?" One of them asked gruffly but not unkindly. "This is a man's war."
"And I am a man at eighteen," she shot back, managing to maintain the rasping voice. "This is my war too." She chanced a glance up at them and they exchanged glances, speaking a silent conversation.
"To the post office, down the street. Careful, boy." The same patriot clapped him on the back and she nodded. Turning away, she tried to not run away but failed as she sprinted back up the lane and up to the post office. There, there were senior patriotic officers and she went up to them. Now, there really was no going back.
.
To be honest, Genevieve knew that the senior officer was suspicious but passed it anyway. She swallowed tears as she worked the last few days and spent time with the Schuylers, properly indulging in the love she had in her life. But today was the day of reckoning. Today, she had to go to the camp with other voluntary trainees and go through rigorous intensive training. Leaving a note on the table in her room that read what she'd done, she closed the door with a bag of all men's clothes she'd bought with some of her money the other day slung on her shoulder.
I've gone off, Papa. I enlisted for the Continental Army and I was accepted. I'm sorry that you had to find out this way but I couldn't bare to see the heartbreak on your face if I told you. At least this way, I know that you cannot stop me. Please, do not try to. This is my dream and I know that this is what I want. Papa, if you see the name Oliver Smith in the deaths of the patriots, know that it is I who holds that name. And if you do see that name, please check under my bed for letters I've written for you all. I love you so much and I'll pray every day to survive this and see you, and Ettie, and Bennett again. Do not tell anyone else where I've gone, especially the two. I don't want them to worry.
Your Genny
"Goodbye, Ettie, Bennett, Papa," she whispered as she passed their rooms. Grabbing scissors from the kitchen drawer, she paused at the basin and reached up to touch the soft tendrils. She'd have to cut it shorter, at least where they barely brushed against her shoulders. Gathering it in one hand, she cleanly chopped it all off and burned it hastily in a little flare of a fire. Swallowing back tears, she thought of what would happen once her family woke. They'd look for her, go to the Schuylers but they wouldn't find her.
No, she'd be long gone by the time they woke.
No, she'd be in the army by the time they woke.
A/N: Thank you: RiseUpWiseUp and Mistyhallows of MoonTribe for following this story and RiseUpWiseUp for leaving a review and favorite! If you enjoyed this chapter, leave a review, follow, or favorite!
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RiseUpWiseUp: Thanks for leaving a review! I wasn't really sure if anyone would like this but you're kind of changing my mind, lol. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!