A/N: Recap of last chapter in case you couldn't/didn't read it-A man, Harcourt, challenged Genevieve to a spar. However, it went too far and it shook Genevieve up due to his inappropriate and illegal attempts. Washington sent her home and Alexander wrote a letter to his wife about what happened. Genevieve cannot sleep now, too traumitized to do so but she writes to her father about what happened and writes a letter to Lafayette that she had not yet given to him. She plans to give it to him right before he leaves.
Warning: Swearing.
Chapter 12: Schuyler Mansion
July 20, 1781
Eliza Hamilton stood on the veranda, Peggy beside her as they stared off at the road. A letter in her hands, the younger Schuyler raised her head. Anger blazed in her eyes and barbed insults on the tip of her tongue. Eliza smiled at her sister's enthusiasm as shapes appeared on the horizon.
"Are they here?" Angelica inquired, appearing at the front door with their father. He stood tall, a man of forty-eight, yet too proud to use a cane. Only when their mother insisted would he bring out the silver walking cane. And of course, Catherine Van Rensselaer Schuyler happened to be out of town. They joined the other two of the porch, watching as the shapes grew closer.
"Almost, and Peggy cannot wait to see her dearest brother-in-law."
"I'm more excited to insult the both of them rather than see them" She retorted, referring to John Laurens and giving the letter to her eldest sister and crossing her arms. "Is Mr. Alcott coming?" Angelica read through the words she had already memorized. The words that caused anger, frustration and the thirst for blood to brew amongst the three of them, signed by her brother-in-law. So they readied their weapons - all whip-smart in three different ways and armed with sharp, barbed tongues, the men approaching should cower in fear.
The Schuyler sisters were a terrifying force to reckon with.
"He's under the weather." Their father informed gruffly as Bennett and Ettie ran down the hall and out onto the porch. Ettie was nursing little pricks of the needle on her fingers as Bennett wiped sweat away from his brow. Philip Schuyler was gracious enough for the two Alcott siblings to stay at his house. His own daughters were extremely fond of the whole family as much as he didn't like their pacifistic father.
"You must've given him your stomach flu, Eliza."* Peggy remarked and Eliza flushed, hand raising to tuck hair behind her ear. They came out onto the veranda just as Angelica hid the letter. Her siblings didn't know the exact reason why their sister was coming home. Even Angelica had agreed that between Bennett's 'never thinking before doing' attitude and her sister growing into a woman with fantasies of love, that it would only suit for Genevieve to tell them in person.
"Bennett, what'd I say about dirt in the house?" Philip Schuyler inquired steely when he noted the dust tracking inside. Eliza stifled a grin as Angelica rolled her eyes.
"Sorry, sir. I lost track of the time and I rushed. Are they here yet?" He asked, a mop of hair falling over his eyes. Peggy snorted, tucking Ettie into her side as the shapes came closer.
"Almost," Angelica muttered as the gates opened. "Come on." They descended down the steps just as Alexander dismounted from his horse. Eliza let out a shriek and sprinted into his arms. All etiquette went out the window - this was her husband she loved more than anything. Despite only seeing him two months ago when he had taken three days leave, Eliza couldn't contain the joy and anticipation in her.
Angelica could barely restrain the two Alcott siblings as Philip Schuyler cleared his throat. John held out his arms, a smirk loose on his face as Peggy hugged him tightly. For a moment, all anger was gone. Angelica knew that later, her younger sisters would be screaming at the men they were hugging for letting Genevieve out of their sight. It was just what family did.
While they were indulging in the embrace of their men, Angelica watched steadily as Hercules Mulligan dismounted and helped Lafayette do so as well. The Frenchman seemed to be nursing wounds, evident by the healing scar on his forehead and the way his arm wrapped around his abdomen.
"Quite an escort, Ms. Alcott." She commented and Genevieve snorted. Swinging a leg off the saddle, she landed on the ground with a thud. Taking off the packs of her things, she slung them over her shoulders. Exhaustion was marked by the black circles around her eyes and the paleness of her skin. Her eyes were sunken in and it appeared as if the woman hadn't slept in a century. God, I've never seen someone so dead.
"Angelica."
"Genny," and then they were in each other's arms. Lafayette remarked something about how she was like a fourth Schuyler sister but Angelica didn't bother to listen to her friend's monsieur. Bags dropped to the ground as they squeezed the life out of each other.
"Eliza, Peggy!" Genevieve broke out into an unused smile, lighting up her face. The shadow didn't quite lift from her face, too dark to shake but it was temporarily brighter. Her smile, however, while changed from desuetude, was still Genevieve's smile at the very end.
"The Schuyler sisters." Alexander agreed, pushing his wife towards the brunette. Peggy joined in the huddle and the four men watched the four women embrace tightly.
"Bennett? Ettie? Come here."
"Do you think she'll be fine?" John murmured as the actual Alcott siblings ran into their sister, tackling her to the ground. They laughed as they hugged their sister but everyone watched as soon as her siblings' heads were on her shoulders and unable to see her face, the smile dropped momentarily. Instead, it weighed down into a grimace.
"Her family is what she needs." Lafayette murmured, happy at least to see her beautiful smile again even if it was just for a moment. When her siblings pulled back, the smile returned although more forced. The quick, sharp glint had not yet disappeared from her eyes, thankfully.
"But you wish you were what she needed," Hercules said and he didn't deny it. Philip Schuyler's gaze went from amused at his daughters to commanding as he looked at the men. In an instant, they all stood taller. Lafayette winced when it seemed the Philip Schuyler's eyes stripped him down, inspecting to see if he were good enough for Genevieve. As if he were courting his daughter.
You may as well be. Mr. Schuyler's gaze seemed to say.
"She'll be back before we know it," John stated confidently. Watching the six of them pull apart and begin to go up to the house, he raised his head. Genevieve had her arm around Eliza and Bennett as Peggy, Angelica and Ettie went on ahead, helping to carry her bags up to the mansion. The head of the Schuyler family watched the men carefully still as if waiting for one of them to slip.
"Come on, let's go inside." He invited and the four glanced at each other, nervous. "Well?"
Three variations of 'Coming, sir!' met his ears but Lafayette was too on edge to add his own contribution. Hercules slapped his back, snapping him out of his daze and they began to make their way up to the house. The horses were led off to the stables by servants as the men's conversation slowed to a stuffy halt. It was hard to talk in front of a war hero who could be or was their father-in-law.
.
Dinner was quite… awkward. Genevieve knew it as soon as she sat wedged between her siblings. Firstly, the bruise on her cheek had faded to a gross yellow-green that she had to explain to her siblings as simply a battle wound - a butt of a gun to the jaw. A lie that slipped right between her teeth. And, she was wearing one of Lafayette's old shirts that she had grown fond of. It was softer than most but scratchy in certain places - exhausted in all the right places - and held his scent deeply.
It wasn't frightening, like how she always looked over her shoulder when she was alone but more nostalgic and fond.
Schuyler sat at the head of the table, Alexander to his right and his eldest, Angelica, to his left. Beside Alexander was, of course, his wife, Eliza, then John, Peggy, and Hercules Mulligan who was surprisingly subdued for the normally rambunctious personality he had. On Angelica's side were Ettie and Bennett sandwiching Genevieve between them as Lafayette shared nervous, uneasy glances with his fellow friends, especially Alexander who was seated right next to him. Angelica watched their interactions with amusement but didn't say anything of it as Peggy raised an eyebrow at John while Eliza at least gave a smile to her husband.
It seemed as if the sisters' harsh scolding wasn't erased from their minds yet.
Every single woman in the room except her was wearing a dress. While she dressed in loose slacks and a thick shirt provided by a man, the Schuyler sisters wore gowns in their signature colors of red, green, and yellow. And she felt completely out of place, disconnected as Mr. Schuyler had scolded her lightly - blaming the exhaustion marked under her eyes as the reason why she would be so torpid.
She'd wear a dress; squeeze into a corset tomorrow. She was too tired to care. As they rode from Monmouth to Albany, she felt like she hadn't slept a wink at all. Eventually, her body had to shut down but she always woke up whenever possible and as soon as possible. The paranoia was out to get her, especially when she was traveling with three other men before meeting up with Hercules.
Secondly, Genevieve knew that every single stare landed on her at least three times. Bennett kept speaking about how he was this close to asking a girl's father for permission to court her while Ettie spoke about needlework and a boy she had seen near the baker's. It didn't matter that it was Lafayette's stare over Bennett's head as he ducked his head to eat or Eliza's glowing gaze on her from across the table or even Ettie as she asked her sister to watch her demonstrate what she learned.
Every stare felt the same. Stripping her layers back until only her scarred heart was laid bare and her traumatized brain could be dissected. Every stare felt like his.
Thirdly, and lastly. What happened when they actually commenced eating. Philip Schuyler had opted to use the second dining room, one set for thirteen, due to convenience for the servants that would serve them and pure indolence. No one would want to set extra chairs and drag tables. Besides, this was what passed as a 'low-maintenance' affair, right? A family dinner - a 'getting to know you' dinner.
"Where's Mr. Church?" Hercules offered as a conversation starter that would include everyone and Angelica looked up sharply from the soup being served. The antique wooden surface of the table was, in itself, a testament to how expensive it was but Lafayette tapped his fingers against it out of nervousness anyway.
Philip Schuyler cleared his throat, dark eyes pinning on the Son of Liberty.
It was clear where each Schuyler sister had gotten their sharp, piercing glare.
A mien that that Genevieve had unconsciously adopted and mastered as well.
Lafayette didn't hear the response, only nodded in thanks when the servant placed the carefully ladled bowl of soup back into his plate. Raising her head, Genevieve rolled her shoulders back, trying to get used to the fact that she was dressed in a shirt rather than a corset. While on the other side of Bennett, Lafayette was praying to God that Schuyler did not call on him to speak.
"Genevieve," the forty-eight-year-old man spoke the name not harshly but with the tone of his voice, anything could have passed as harsh. His voice was rough with war but still held the warm undertones only reserved for family. The man of the hour, Philip Schuyler caught everyone's attention even though they weren't the ones addressed. "Is it true that you've allowed a Frenchman - in fact, the Frenchman dining with us today - seduce you into his bed?"
"Sir-" she began, startled. This was certainly not the right time or place to start this conversation. Heat rushed to her cheeks and she ducked her head, out of embarrassment and to hide the panic that masked her face.
But Philip Schuyler had never laid eyes on the letter Eliza had received just two weeks ago. And he was completely in the dark of what had to have happened for Genevieve to be even sitting where she was then. There was the sound of quiet sips as Alexander looked at the stock-still marquis.
Their eyes met and there was the smallest twitch that said 'Stay quiet.' Lafayette's eyes met Schuyler's dark ones before returning to the white soup in his bowl. Spooning it, he felt a green gaze burn into his cheek. Then, there was one word uttered, monosyllabic and quiet.
"Yes."
And it was said as she raised her head, fixing the same stare on him that he used on his son-in-law and his friends.
"A young one, isn't he? Tell me, then," at this, Lafayette raised his head from his soup. Genevieve's eyes were full of expressing on how done she was with this dinner already. They were only on appetizers and already, it was going poorly. "Has his voice even broken yet? He looks no older than eighteen!" He chuckled before turning to look at his middle daughter, "Elizabeth, are you sure he's a soldier and he isn't just some urchin you girls picked off the street? Your kindness will be the death of us all." The overbearing father smiled when she flushed. Peggy bit her lip, unwilling to step into the crossfire but also wanting to help.
But Angelica wasn't one to stand by. "Father." Her tone was a warning and the look she sent him said everything else. Of course, he decided to completely disregard her.
"Don't be trivial. We all know how this boy seemed to have enraptured Genevieve." The man scoffed and Genevieve's eyes filled with irritation.
"Father, they're both sitting right there." Peggy informed coolly.
"It's fine." She lied through her teeth. "Lafayette is a handsome man."
"An arrogant immigrant boy who doesn't speak an ounce of English wouldn't understand a single syllable falling from my lips, Margarita. He wouldn't care if I were insulting him, would he?" Alexander looked at Lafayette, eyebrows struggling to meet his hairline as he tried to contain his laugh. Of course he would find this situation funny. Eliza beside him just returned to drinking her soup quietly as Angelica and Peggy shared looks over the dining table.
Bennett and Ettie looked back and forth between their older sister and Lafayette, waiting for a response. The two, along with John and Hercules spectated the argument as Genevieve scowled. The silence was agonizing and she turned to look at Lafayette, green eyes narrowed as if to say, 'Oh, my god.' John just slurped on his soup as Hercules looked up at the ceiling, admiring the chandelier as if it were the most beautiful piece of work ever to meet his eyes.
"Apologies, but, I think I may have charmed her by using my English," Lafayette commented suddenly in his most forced polite and unaccented tone. But as always, he knew that he slipped once or twice into the French lilt. Immediately, Genevieve turned back to Schuyler with a raised eyebrow and with all the sass in the world, said:
"Would you look at that? He does care and it might be because he speaks English quite fluently, Mr. Schuyler."
Eliza covered her smile with the napkin as Peggy snorted into her soup, trying to stop the undignified laugh threatening to overtake her. John sent her a cheerful smile as Angelica had a coughing fit with Alexander.
At least, on his part, Philip Schuyler had the grace to look shocked, "They said you didn't speak a word of it." Lafayette's nerves were numb as he clenched a fist under the table. That might've been the wrong thing to say on both their parts. Why couldn't I have just said, 'Pardon, but I do speak English.' Or not say anything at all? He asked himself, irritated. When he was met with that stare again, he swallowed a spoonful of hot soup that nearly scorched his throat. Clearing it, he laid down his spoon and leaned back into his chair.
No matter - he was in a hole he couldn't dig himself out of. Might as well dig deeper, then maybe he'd find a diamond. "Did 'they' tell you that I have golden eyes like an eagle, a fleet of ships and a sleek combover?" Still, silent disbelief. "In that case, they may need to get his Frenchmen right. Even then, Rochambeau's heavy accent doesn't mask the fact that he can still speak a little of English."
By that moment, it was completely quiet as Hercules slid his spoon back onto his plate with a soft clang. Then, a loud boisterous laugh.
"Well, shit, if I haven't made enough bad first impressions. Called John Church, a what was it again, Angelica?"
"The most unimaginative, stodgy, banal man with the most ridiculous voice and fastidious beard you've ever met." Angelica recited immediately, having recovered from her coughing. She cleared her throat, resuming an elegant posture. "I can't help but agree." She added dryly.
"And you called me a creole bastard who should scurry back to my whore mother's arms and that I should stay the hell away from your daughter." Alexander inputted brightly although the way Eliza's smile dimmed and the movement of her arm under the table to hold Alexander's hand, Lafayette knew that Schuyler had yet to be forgiven for what he said to the younger soldier.
"Exactly. The point is that no man is good enough for my daughters, no matter how rich, good looking or well spoken they are." Genevieve flushed at being categorized with his daughters as Ettie held her hand under the table. Bennett nudged her subtly and she rolled her eyes.
Lafayette nodded anyway to agree. With John's fading and faint, British accent, Alexander's Caribbean brogue and his own Parisian lilt, the comment's target was unsure. It was definitely not Hercules but had John Church been here instead, he would have been just as confused. "Of course, sir." The marquis added for good measure.
Already, he wanted to run. This wasn't going to be easy if they all did was talked about him and in return, him firing back quick-witted retorts. For God's sake, he'd probably have to ask this man for a blessing in the future for good measure.
Of course, he was saved when servants swept into the room with new dishes and their soups were taken away. Genevieve kept sending him half-glances across the table but otherwise, speaking was limited to the Schuyler and Alcott siblings, the only people comfortable in Schuyler's presence.
"So… boy." Lafayette stiffened, spine straightening as he raised his head from the tender slab of meat on his plate. Every head raised with his and they watched quietly as Philip Schuyler smiled slightly. "What kind of soldier are you if not a naval officer? If my daughters are truly telling the truth, then they say you have a distinguished military career. Of course," he sniffed as Alexander choked on a sip of wine. "I would hear it from Genevieve had she not run away." Coughing, he tried to cover it with a napkin as Eliza sighed, patting her husband on the back.
Alexander's tendency to choke on whatever was in his mouth was abnormally high that night. Lafayette couldn't exactly blame him.
"Sir!"
"Don't be stupid as you were then." His words were just an aching reminder of what happened - because she was a woman, it happened. A woman in the army, a woman under a man's clothes. Closing her eyes, she set her jaw and kept it shut. Either Schuyler politely ignored it or he somehow managed to fail in noticing it completely.
"Excuse me, sir, but if there's something Genevieve isn't, it's stupid." Lafayette retorted hotly and the head of the family made a small sound at the back of his throat, somewhere between displeased and surprised. "While you were away, she managed your business - your ships. That isn't an easy thing to do. She-"
"Lafayette," John warned quietly. Even if Genevieve wasn't a Schuyler by blood, it was obvious she was one by honor. Knowing her for nearly a decade wasn't all for nothing and their support was one of the reasons she was in the army in the first place.
"She brought ships to America. Ones that saved us not only from the winter but the war." His voice became quiet, just now noticing that all the attention was on him. Angelica, Eliza and Alexander's quiet conversation in front of Schuyler was brought to a halt and Hercules cleared his throat awkwardly. While he said these words, she looked at the sisters. Not alone. It'd be too much to do alone. They smiled.
"Lafayette," she mumbled and he looked at her, eyes softening. Her gauntness hit him right in the face and he could almost feel the riptides of exhaustion and weariness that crashed on her like waves during a thunderstorm. In her eyes said, 'You can endure the impudent foolishness of this man for one night. We both can.'
'I'll behave,' he promised. 'What's a war if I can't survive a formal dinner?' He added and with half a laugh in her eyes that sparked life, she turned back to her meal. Joy flowed in his veins when he saw it, a warm smile surfacing on his own face.
"He's Major General Lafayette, Father," Angelica informed slowly as if, like water to flour, needed a few moments to sink into his old brain. Somehow, they'd been brought back to the original question. Thank God for Angelica Schuyler. Lafayette thought silently but when the woman's father was still quiet, the positive thought vanished. Did he overestimate the reputation that preceded him?
But it appeared Philip Schuyler didn't seem like a man who really cared about anything or anyone that did not directly associate with himself as a person or to his family. Although still a renowned General in his own right, Lafayette wasn't completely surprised when Philip Schuyler didn't exactly respond. But now, he'd have to know the marquis because the Frenchman was directly associated with Genevieve.
Damn it.
"The secret immigrant weapon?" Alexander provided, "America's favorite fighting Frenchman?" It would've passed as Alexander trying to be helpful had they not known him. Everyone at the table knew that he was poking fun out of his father-in-law. Eliza glared sharp daggers at her husband. He looked at her with a half-smirk, his expression sheepish.
Her words earlier that day were exactly, "Behave and maybe my father won't rip you to shreds tonight." And it appeared he hadn't taken those words to heart. But then again, Alexander was lucky. Tonight, her father was more interested in his friends.
Alexander was even more lucky that John wasn't the one under the spotlight. He wasn't quite sure that the man's pants would be dry after a conversation with Schuyler about Peggy.
While all this was happening, Philip Schuyler was quiet, trying to orient himself.
"I'm one of Washington's many tacticians and I serve under him on the battlefield," Lafayette informed, trying to keep his distaste from his voice. Instead, he employed a bright smile that he'd used against the many Ducs in France. Hopefully, it'd win over the General. After all, didn't a veteran like Philip Schuyler love to talk about the war? Perhaps if he named a battles he had lead in, it would take the spotlight off of himself for a while. Then, he'd have room to breathe and not become a sweaty mess. "At Brandywine, Barren Hill, and the recent Battle of Monmouth."
"Ah, yes. Charles Lee fled from that one, didn't he?" It seemed that was the right battle to name as Philip Schuyler went on a tirade on Charles Lee. He went somewhere along the lines of, "Back in my day, men like Lee would've been sent home in basic!" before somehow bringing it to himself where he began to tell tall tales of his own youth. His own battles were probably colorfully fabricated and extremely amplified to state how heroic he was - how he earned his reputation and name. On his part, Lafayette graciously allowed it. This wouldn't be the first time a superior officer began to tell of the days gone by to him.
Luckily, being born in the French aristocracy gave him the skills needed to be an awfully good listener.
Philip Schuyler droned on and on about his exploits in Canada, seizing redoubts left and right with only a hatchet and ten half-starved men wielding nothing but sawed off muskets and only a box of rations to share between the eleven of them. Genevieve rolled her eyes at the Schuyler sisters who nodded in agreement. It was as if they were saying, 'Not again.'
There are always men who had a unique knack for telling stories, making time fly faster than a bullet. Philip Schuyler, although to his credit, tried his best without making it seem so abundantly clear, was not one of those men. At the very border of his hearing range - he had zoned out of whatever the man of the hour was saying - he could hear nine subtle taps. His gaze drifting from Schuyler to Genevieve, she sported a reluctant smile. Understanding the message, he groaned inwardly.
It's only nine, he thought helplessly. Dear Lord, help me. However, he kept the smile on his face and kept nodding, making interjections of awe at all the right times. Hercules sent him a sympathetic glance before leaning beside him to hear what Peggy was saying. With the attention solely on Lafayette, the rest of them sectioned themselves off. Eliza, Angelica, and Alexander had their own little trio in front of Schuyler while the Alcott siblings were their own group and that left John, Peggy, and Hercules by themselves.
At least one person was looking out for him as he was left to the wolf.
"Would you look at the time?" Genevieve interrupted and as Schuyler brought his tale to a close, he leaned back and looked at the grandfather clock.
"Dear God, is that really the time? It can't be, can it?"
And everyone in the room thought: Yes, yes it can be.
Then there was a hearty laugh. "I seem to lose track of time when I tell stories of when I was younger." I didn't. In fact, you made minutes stretch into hours. Lafayette thought wryly, "Boy," he looked at the man. Apparently that was his name now. "I would bet you my mansion that you had never heard such adventures among your Frenchmen, have you?"
You wouldn't believe it but I have heard more extreme tales. The marquis mused flatly. Aloud, he said, "I cannot say that I have."
"Well, then," he got up shakily, old war wounds taking a toll on his health. As servants began to clear away the table, Angelica immediately got to her feet, steadying her father with an offered arm. He grunted, clutching onto his daughter before straightening up with an air of superiority. Lafayette then decided that Philip Schuyler was just like the generic soldier past his time. A braggart, suspicious of the young now and having extremely high standards, he thrived off an attentive listener or two at the dinner table. Too proud to thank the help he was given but takes it anyway, a father who believes in the utmost importance of his image and making sure his children were spoilt and happier than possible.
Honorable, esteemed; a war veteran who still thinks himself in his prime.
Easy to please if you had just the right amount of patience.
As one, the rest of the guests rose as Angelica pulled away. Philip Schuyler stood tall and turned to look at Lafayette. "It was a pleasure meeting you, General Schuyler." He enunciated carefully.
"Same to you." The man replied stiffly out of etiquette. "Angelica, help your father to the den. I'd like to do a bit of reading before I retire."
"Father, you need to rest."
"And I can rest in the den - you're sounding too much like your mother." Peggy chuckled as the eldest Schuyler sister wrapped her arm around her father's.
"And we're supposed to assume that that was an insult, Father? Mother is the only one who can control you and if Angelica can do the same, I think we have our own secret weapon." Peggy commented swiftly as her arm came around John's waist. Her father ignored the comment as the two begun to leave. Bennett and Ettie lead their sister out of the dining room and out towards her bedroom up the stairs.
Lafayette sighed. The dinner wasn't as terrible as he had anticipated. As long as he didn't need to attend another one, he'd be fine. Eliza sent him a warm smile as if to welcome and apologize to him, and Alexander flashed him a thumbs-up. Offering his arm, he escorted his wife to their joined room which left Lafayette alone with Hercules.
"You're going to ask that man for a blessing?" The tailor asked, amused. "Good luck, brother." Lafayette groaned, feeling stuffy from the meal and from the uncomfortable scene he had just participated in for the past three hours. The dishes had changed from a tender roast to variants of bread, salads, cured meats and desserts. More than he had eaten in months.
"I thought you didn't like Genevieve." He remarked as his best friend shook his head with a smile.
"Man, I don't like it when she hurts you." He corrected before letting out a massive yawn. "Come on, we gotta leave at noon tomorrow. Let's get some sleep."
.
It had been a while since Lafayette had slept on his own in his own room. It was too quiet, the only company he had being the quiet tick of the clock in his room. Besides that, it was so eerily quiet. There were occasionally shuffles early on, specifically in Alexander and Eliza's room but they had died down once the time had slipped into one in the morning. He laid there on the bed, silently wondering what the others were doing.
When they were travelling, he could always hear Alexander's snoring or John's quiet shifts as he slept. He'd always hear one of them ask (more often than not it was John) ask if his wounds were okay - if they were still closed. And he'd laugh and say yes, he was fine. That he didn't persuade the doctor to let him leave only to split open his wounds again. And Genevieve, every night, would unwrap his bandage and exchange it for a clean one, no matter how frightening it was for her. A forced smile on her face, she'd withdraw as quickly as possible as soon as the task was done because she was the best at it. But he knew it terrified her to be so close to men all the time.
His leg had long healed and he could walk fine, it was just that goddamn abdominal wound that scared the life out of her the first time that still ached. And he tried to make her smile. Sometimes he succeeded, sometimes he didn't. But what mattered was that they were both trying.
Trying to get past the mess they were in.
He'd been awake for five hours.
He watched the long hand slowly tick by the six, the shorter one just bumping forward a bit by the five. 5:30. Rolling over in his bed, he stared at the wall. As he felt the minutes crawl by in his bones, heart pounding in his ears, he heard a faint brush. In the silent house, it was like that was magnified by ten. Sitting up slowly as to not agitate his side, he ran a hand through his unruly, wild curls. A creak of wood, the click of a door.
Someone was definitely awake.
And in Lafayette's mind, it wasn't hard to guess who. Throwing off the covers, he glanced out the window where the clear summer sky revealed the moon and stars in its brilliance. His window was open, cool night air swishing into the room pleasantly as he sat up. There was a soft rhythm of steps and he looked at the slit between the door and the floor, a faint orange glow passing by along with footsteps. He got out of bed, grabbing his shirt blindly before using the moon's light to make sure he put it on with the right way forward. After making sure it was the right way and not inside out, he tied his hair up quickly, motions practiced as he brushed the hair away from his face.
Shuffling his feet across the floor, he opened his door as quietly as he could and looked across the hall. The door was closed, meaning Peggy was asleep. Looking to his left, he saw that Angelica's door was shut and to his right, Alexander's was shut as well. However, the one next to Alexander's, the one right at the end of the hall was open.
That was her room.
He slipped out of his, letting the door close with a quiet click. The grand staircase was bathed in silver light from the grand windows that were mounted on the walls. The thick curtains were pulled back to allow light in and Lafayette ran a hand over the polished mahogany rail. Descending the steps quietly, he carefully explored the house, sneaking around like a mouse.
The den was empty, and he got a bit twisted when he saw the same bathrooms multiple times but managed to find his way to the drawing room. The door was open but when he peeked inside, there was no one there. So he backtracked and somehow found Schuyler's office where he hastily fled the scene of. Then, he turned a series of rights and went down another flight of steps to the ground floor and got to the dining rooms. One's door was open and he walked quietly up to the slit, peering inside. Immediately, he saw Genevieve sitting at the head of the table. It sat seven people and it was relatively small compared to the table they had used earlier that night. A candle burned in its holder, illuminating her face that was etched with conflict, as if she were debating something.
Opening the door, he knocked his fingers against the wood to alert her of his presence. In an instant, her head snapped up and she tensed. Freezing, he waited for her to recognize him before continuing further.
"Lafayette?" In the room, the curtains were drawn over the windows and the only light was the candle. She held up the brass holder and he smiled.
"C'est moi." Sighing, she settled the holder back onto the table, "Shouldn't you be asleep?"
"Shouldn't you?" She shot back, rubbing at her eyes. He eyed the seat diagonally left of her and she nodded. Pulling the chair back, Lafayette sat down. The candle illuminated both their faces as she looked down into her lap. Under her robe, he could see she was still wearing his shirt and a loose pair of pants. The yellow-green bruise, a blunt reminder of what happened, made his stomach churn as she looked up.
"I know you have not been sleeping well since we left New Jersey." He murmured and she fiddled with something in her lap. When she slid it onto the table side farther away from him, he realized it was a sealed letter. The flame didn't provide enough light to see the name but he didn't bother to ask who it was for.
"I'm scared to." She admitted softly, left hand resting on the table. He looked at appendage, limp and pale. Even her skin seemed to have lost its color. "Every time I close my eyes, I see him. And I… I feel like I can't-"
"Sh…" he urged and she broke off, closing her eyes before opening them again.
"Tonight's dinner was awful. I'm sorry about Mr. Schuyler," she continued on quietly and he nodded.
"What is it about him that makes you like him?"
"He's a good man. Just stuck in the past and protective of his family. War changes how a person thinks and for a man like him, he never thinks that too much action exists. You heard the reports - he had to be forced to step down due to his health decline."
"Well, you sisters obviously didn't get your sharp tongues from someone like William Alcott." He teased and the corner of her lips quirked up. His fingers rested at the lip of the table, wrist hanging down as his eyes flickered down to her hand again.
"I suppose. My father's too kind to say something like that. Maybe it was my mother. She and Philip Schuyler would have scolded our ears off had they known each other." He made a humming noise in the back of his throat. Her gaze drifted across the table, resting momentarily on the fireplace before settling on the drawn curtains. "I miss her sometimes."
"I understand." At this, a half-smile came onto her face.
"I know." There was a long moment of silence. One where there was nothing left to say yet it was okay because they were still alive - still together. Finally, she spoke up, "You know what this room is? What it means?"
"No," he said because 'dining room' sounded like the wrong answer. A nostalgic smile crossed her lips and her right index finger traced small circles on the expensive wood, hand moving in motion as it floated across the rich brown.
"It's where Hercules Mulligan told me that Rochambeau made it to America. I had maps, charters, ledgers, and pages of writing spread across this table, trying to find out how to get Mr. Schuyler's ships passed when I realized that the French didn't make it past the British barricade." Her green eyes were distant, staring into the table. He looked at her, head slightly tilted when the woman broke out of her trance to look at him. "And I sat in the chair you were sitting now as the winter raged outside and I wondered if you were still alive."
"Gen…"
"Clearly you were." She added after a while. "Lafayette…"
"Mhm?"
"Why are you up in the first place?"
"It's been a long time since I've had a room to myself," he admitted, "and the silence was not comfortable. I heard you moving down the hall, so I decided to join you. There's a war outside this mansion. I want to find all the peace I can get." His answer made her enervated self smile and he leaned back into the chair, rubbing his eyes.
"You should sleep; a full day is ahead of you and you're wounded," she eyed his side warily and he shrugged. It had not been a complete bother for a while. "If you were any other soldier, you'd still be confined to camp."
"But, I'm not." He riposted, leaning onto the table. The dark-eyed man faced her and smiled. "I think you know that." A hand slowly crept towards hers. She was completely aware of it and when it paused just before touching her fingers, Genevieve took a deep breath. "If you aren't ready-"
And she released it, placing her hand in his and curling her fingers over his hand as he did the same. When it was done, she seemed to relax. "I won't ever be ready if I don't just do it." The words were quiet and he nodded.
"You can't force the healing process."
"I know. I just need to take the first step, I guess." Again, that smile.
There was a lapse into silence where they didn't speak, only zoned out into their own thoughts. The bone-rattling dong of the grandfather clock brought them out of their senses and they both jumped, hands springing apart.
Lafayette caught his breath, a disbelieving smile on his face from the fact that he got scared from a clock. It faded when he realized Genevieve stood.
"Lafayette, go sleep. A long road awaits you tomorrow." She muttered swiftly as a goodbye and he stood as well. Her fingers wrapped around the holder's handle and there was a moment where she paused as if debating whether to take the letter or not too. Curiosity nipped at him when she did. Then she began to leave, towards the door and her head turned to the side but not completely to look at him.
There was something she wanted to say that she couldn't.
He couldn't let her leave.
"The sun is rising soon." Her figure halted and he proceeded, "Genevieve, I want to show you the sunrise." The brunette turned around, a mask of confusion on her face, "Can I take you?"
"Where?" He debated keeping it a surprise - after all, where's the fun if one knew where they were going? But then, Lafayette knew she wouldn't go if he did so.
"To the top of my home. We can see the sunrise from there." He promised and her eyes narrowed at him as if judging if he were lying or not. "I will go there now. And… if you don't want to go, that's fine. But if you want a proper view of the sun," he gave a half-smile, "you'll know where to find me."
.
Genevieve retreated to her room, immediately closing the door and locking it. She knew that Lafayette was gone - he had left as soon as she went back up the stairs. Leaning against the door, she slid down and settled the candle beside her. Looking at the envelope, she brushed her fingers across where she wrote his name.
Did she give it to him? When?
When she had written it, she was so sure of telling him what she knew. Now, she was flooded with uncertainty. Genevieve sighed, knowing each word she had written in it by heart.
"... know that in another life, in another time, the one I loved most was you."
"You'll know where to find me."
Was it possible for someone as magnificent as Lafayette to still care about her, a goddamned mess? In her heart, she knew the answer.
Forcing herself up, the brunette surveyed her room. She had a jacket she could wear instead of her robe, a hat to tuck her hair into.
Wait. Was she seriously considering meeting a man in the middle of the night where no one could help her? Her heart raced without her knowing but when she placed her palm against her chest, she could feel it pulse rapidly.
Stop it. Her heart scolded, It's Lafayette. You trust Lafayette. Come on, get it together. She raised her head, took a deep breath with her eyes closed and let it out. Now, get your jacket on. It was like her heart was backseat driving, overpowering whatever she wanted. Where are my boots?** She thought dazedly, falling to her knees and looking under the table and bed. Sweeping her gaze around, she spotted them near the credenza. Pulling them on hastily, she tied her hair up into a messy bun and stuffed her hat with her head. Grabbing her boots and jacket, she put them on and hid the envelope in the pocket of her jacket.
Now, get yourself out the door and to the stables. Come on. Do I need to remind you again that Lafayette is trustworthy? You love him! Her jerky movements paused. You love him.
And she knew that somewhere, she did. She did, so much. It was one of the only reasons she was going in the first place. Trust and love went hand in hand. Genevieve knew that.
Descending down the steps, she made sure she didn't cause any creaks that could be avoided. Slipping out the door, she breathed in the cooler summer air. It filled her lungs and felt liberating. Throwing out her arms to the side, she enjoyed the way it swirled around her and caught in the small strands of her hair.
Jumping off the veranda, she began to make her way towards the stables where Schuyler's horses slept. Letting out a half-breathless laugh, she barely stopped herself from twirling around - the night just held so much freedom. But she had to get to Lafayette's in time. Hopefully, no one would be there in the stables Sometimes, the stablemen would sleep with the horses in case thieves would come in the middle of the night. Of course, the horses were trained to put up a fuss should a stranger would approach.
Luckily, her chestnut stallion knew her not to be a stranger. Approaching the stables, she pushed open the door and heard some horses snort and raise their head at the newcomer. "Châtain?"*** Her horse nickered, alerting her that he was awake and she slipped inside and towards his stall. Finding his riding gear, she opened the gate, saddled him up and fit the bit to his mouth before leading him out into the night air.
Patting him on the nose and scratching him under the chin, they began to walk towards the gate. The chain wrapped around it was already loosened and she cocked her head, untangling it with a gentle clink. Lafayette must've picked the lock, obvious from how it laid open on the ground. Picking it up, she nudged one side of the gate opened and lead Châtain through before following after. Looping the metal through the bars, she secured it with the lock.
Neighing, Châtain stomped the ground impatiently and Genevieve shushed him. Shaking it once, twice to make sure it was secure, the brunette mounted her horse and made her way down the path. She knew this city like the back of her mind, and she found the quickest route easily. Urging her horse into a trot, she felt like stares were pricking at the back of her neck and, paranoid, she constantly looked into the dark alleys and over her shoulder.
No one was awake, and any that were weren't outside. Passing the post office and corner store, she approached a tall building. At the bottom was a closed bakery but the stairs to the top floor were still accessible. Dismounting, she straightened her jacket and lead her horse closer to the building. Tying him to the post near the bakery, she pressed a kiss to the bridge of his nose. "Stay," she murmured before ascending the steps. There was a door immediately at the top of the steps. Twisting the knob, she raised an eyebrow when it was already unlocked.
Going inside, she swallowed her fear. No lights were on but the beginnings of the sun's awakening colored the sky, giving light to the otherwise dark room. No one was in here.
"Lafayette?" She called to the empty air. Was it all a mistake? See what happens when I listen to you? Her brain seemed to say to her heart. Pounding against her rib cage, the muscle felt tired, worn out. The stress of it all combined with her constant bone-tired state made her easily irritated. "Lafayette!"
"Gen?" She whipped around when she heard a voice and screamed. A door that she never noticed before near the bathroom was open and there was a shape coming down the stairs. The beginnings of the sun illuminated his face. "You came."
"Yeah, obviously." She snorted, hands unclenching from their fists. Placing a hand on her heaving chest, she tried to regain her breath. "God, you scared the living hell out of me!"
"Sorry," he murmured sincerely. "But we've got to get up here if we want to see the actual sunrise." The man held out a hand and she walked over, tentatively placing her hand in his. "Do you trust me?" Before they ascended the steps, he asked it carefully.
"I don't know." She whispered. He nodded as if he knew that was the answer before asking for her other hand. His hand went to his belt and took out a long, thin blade. A stiletto.
"Then take it. Easy to hide in your boot, thin enough to be subtle." It was a simple blade, sharp and silver, but not with the shine of a newly crafted knife. It was worn and weary, a testament to its durability and reliability. The grip had initials carved into them and as she ran a thumb over it, she realized it was an G and an L.**** Gilbert du Motier, marquis de Lafayette. She recited in her head. This was Lafayette's. Now it was hers.
"Lafayette-"
"If I try anything on you, you have permission to stab me. I won't be in the same league as Harcourt." He declared and she felt her lip twitch at the thought. This man… this idiot of a man was honorable and she knew that he would never do it. However, to appease him, she carefully slid the blade into the outside of her boot.
"Thank you."
"Normally, a woman would scream at the sight of a blade that isn't a kitchen knife." She arched her eyebrows at him and he chuckled. "And as stated before, you are not most women. Come on," squeezing her hand, he led him up the short flight of steps to a hatch. Apologizing, he let go of her hand.
"It's fine," she muttered, distracted. The darkness of the hallway was suffocating, taunting. Claustrophobic, the brunette tapped her foot impatiently. The blade pressed against her calf and she tried to calm herself with the thought that she had a weapon. If anything were to happen, she had a stiletto, ready to stab someone.
He got the hatch open and it thumped on the roof as he pushed it. Offering his hand again, he helped her out before leading her to the edge of the roof. "Are you sure about this?" For a moment, she was ready to say no. Instead, she said yes. "Then, don't hate me for what I'm about to do." He let go of her hand, took a few paces back - a running start.
"You aren't going to what I think you are, right?" She asked uneasily, looking at the building they were beside. It was someone else's house. The roof's tiles were perfect holds for an expert. He only smirked and sprinted up until the last moment, launching himself into the air. It felt like ice water was thrown on her when for a moment, it was like he was suspended in mid-air. But then he landed with a loud crack. His feet pushed against the shingles and he managed to get to the apex of the roof. He sat on the ridge of the roof, facing the horizon and turning to look at her over his shoulder.
"Come on." With the arrogance and charm as if they were both nineteen again, he smirked. It was so boyish and evocative, she couldn't help but feel like laughing. It bloomed from her chest and it was breathless. For once, they were just two fools in love.
"Are you crazy?" She yelled and he laughed. The wind was picking up, a morning breeze that stung her skin. "Lafayette, someone lives there!"
"Who cares?" He called back as if there were no consequences. Like they were free to do whatever they wanted. "Hurry! Before the sun rises!"
"What if I fall?" She looked over the edge to see the alley below.
"Don't worry, I'll catch you!"
"I hate you!" She began to take a few steps back and he turned around so that he was sitting back towards the sun. His knees were parted and he rested his arms on them, the posture oozing a challenge and hubris only a young man of sixteen could muster.
"You love me, ma chérie." He screamed just as she began to run with all her might. Her muscles stretched pleasantly, embracing each stride and when her foot landed on the lip of the roof, she pushed herself off and onto the next roof. Fingers catching the shingles, she hissed when her fingers scraped against the tiles. Hauling herself up, she pushed against the edge. Her boot slipped and she yelped when hands came under her arms and gave her the extra boost she needed. Panting, she leaned into Lafayette as he settled her beside him.
"Thanks." The exhilaration hadn't faded yet and she felt adrenaline make her head light. There was no reply as the sun began to rise. His knee knocked into hers and she smiled. Straightening her legs down the side of the roof, she leaned back on her hands propping her up.
Night faded away, violet streaking across the sky as stars slowly left for a day's rest, one by one. The beautiful tranquillity couldn't be put into words as the sun completely rose from the skyline. The sky turned an orange and yellow, irradiating the buildings of Albany in a warm glow. It was the peace she needed - a temporary blank in the narrative that only the two of them knew of.
Looking down, Genevieve saw his hand near hers on the ridge of the roof. Placing it on top of his knuckles, she felt a truly genuine smile to cross her face. "Thank you." His wrist twisted so he could tangle their fingers. Looking back out across the city, she sighed. She just wanted to stay in this moment. As soon as they went back down, she'd be thrown into a whirlwind of her life again.
"I wish I could stay," he whispered, "and protect you. But I cannot, and I'm sorry."
"There's nothing to apologize for. I don't need protection when I've got your blade." She assured, not taking her eyes off the sight of their city. "You gave me a moment I needed. Lafayette," her hand slipped into her pocket, taking out the letter like it was precious cargo. "The letter - it's for you."
He took it, running a hand over the dried seal as she did many times before. "What does it say?"
"What I couldn't say before." Her eyes searched his dark ones. The shadow that hung over her disappeared when his smile directed at her - it wasn't even particularly charming. It was just so wide and bright, like the sun. It dispelled any fear she had with him.
"The stiletto I gave you. It was the first weapon I ever had - brought it to the first dinner I ever had with the Duc of Bordeaux and his wife. And it has saved me many times over since my youth of fourteen." His thumb traced absent circles on her scarred knuckles. "I want it to be something you are secure with when nothing else can give you comfort. To assure you that you're safe when I cannot do so."
"It's a sweet gesture,"
"It's a useful one." He corrected and she chuckled, appreciating the amendment. A weapon was useful. "I wish I didn't have to leave, love." The title made her weak and she sighed.
"At least I'll always have you with me. And I will see you again. Maybe then, I'll be better. This will have all been behind us and we can see all the sunrises you want." She promised and he nodded, agreeing. The sky was slowly becoming its normal shade of light blue, the dark twilight receding behind them. He let out a huff of air as the adrenaline slowly flowed away.
"They're only worth watching if you're with me." He said it with such conviction that it nearly made her fall off the roof. Smiling like a fool, she felt her warm blood reach every finger and toe in her body. They turned to each other in synchronization. They were so close, she could almost feel the intensity that radiated from him. Trying to orient herself, she felt the beginnings of panic wrap its seductive tendrils around her but then, "Mademoiselle, may I kiss you?" He asked, gaze flitting from her eyes to her lips. The question for her consent, one that few men rarely asked, allowed her to regain her bearings. And she wanted to say yes, she did. And his eyes said that it was okay to say no. No.
No, no, no. What she kept saying because Harcourt needed to get the hell off of her.
Squeezing her eyes shut, her lip trembled. And he needed to leave and get his hands off of her. But she couldn't. She was too weak. Too small. A woman. "Don't think about it. We're here in Albany. It's just us." He urged, pulling away and instead embracing her tightly. He leaned over and placed a hand on the back of her head under her hat.
Hugging him back, she buried her face into his neck.
"Tout est bon. Tout est bon." He repeated softly, warmth engulfing her like a blanket. "Tu es en sécurité ici. Il ne peut pas te trouver." His hand rubbed her back as he raised his head. Removing her face from his neck, red as tears slowly slid down her face, she tried to smile. "You beautiful woman, God,"
Her breath was still ragged as he brushed away stray tears with his fingers. Cupping her face in his hands, he smiled. Despite the hiccups that shook her whole body, he still grinned like he found a precious diamond.
"Lafayette,"
"Sh…" and he hugged her again.
"I don't deserve you." Her voice was muffled as he chuckled. "You - I…"
"If anything, I don't deserve you." He assured. "I'll try and come back as soon as I can." He continued optimistically, "After we get through hell, then it will be just us. I promise. Je t'aime." And she wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him into another hug because she knew he was trying to imprint her scent into his mind as she was doing the same.
"Thank you," Genevieve meant it more than he knew. She thought back to 1776 when she was outside the school and him, a Frenchman who was supposed to be a suave debonair, came over to her, stumbled on his words and left an impression on her that she couldn't shake. An idealistic, optimistic man, too good to be real. Who showed her sun rises, how to search for light in the darkest of places, and the deepest love.
Who had just saved her from herself.
"Lafayette, I love you." She told him and he nodded. Her free hand tentatively touched his jaw and brushed against his growing beard. Looking at her with renewed hope, his hand covered hers. "Go off to war. I promise, when you return, I won't be afraid." She repeated and his mouth twitched into a grin.
"A promise you are allowed to break," he searched her eyes for any fear, panic, and his fingers wrapped around her wrist. Indirectly feeling her pulse, he found that it was steady under her skin.
"I won't."
They turned towards the sun as men and women alike began to leave their homes. A new day, one full of hope as Genevieve rested her head on Lafayette's shoulder. And they were just that - not soldiers; not an immigrant; not a victim; just Genevieve and Lafayette. Just two fools deeply in love.
And everything was as it should be.
A/N: The actual chapter is a little under 10k but with this A/N, it's passed the big 10k and it almost 11! Next chapter won't be as long, hopefully.
"Honestly, it's kind of draining." - Burr. I have changed every single mon chéri into ma chérie because it was wrong. Ma is feminine. Mon is masculine. I rewrote many parts, adding little bits (especially the dinner scene) and now I'm exhausted. I hope you love the roof scene. That was my favorite in this chapter.
Anyway, I hope you had a happy Easter! I whipped this up real quick after being inspired by RiseUpWiseUp's 'Unimaginable' fic. I think you can still see my review there - it's completely embarrassing. But yeah, the Maddelica fluff (if you have read chapter 11) inspired me to write some Genette fluff because we haven't seen any lately.
Next chapter, I promise we'll see William because he is too good for this world. He's just a kind old man running a tavern. And I'm thinking of writing some scenes at the battle front but I'm not sure yet. I'm also not sure when it'll be done since it's SCHOOL. ARGH. I'll definitely start tomorrow but it might not be finished until next week.
Thank you to everyone who has followed, favorited, reviewed and did all that juicy stuff! I'm honestly so grateful and this 10k chapter is for you!
REVIEWS:
RiseUpWiseUp: YO I HOPE IT'S REPAIRED BECAUSE THIS WAS BASICALLY A BASKET FULL OF BUNNIES COMPARED TO LAST CHAPTER.
Kitty of 2 kingdoms: Yeah, it was. I didn't have fun writing it. I believe Genny is best friends with all of them but the Schuylers have known her longer. It only seems that way because we never see the sisters while we always see the Revolutionary Set. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!
PaintingMusic14: I did not break a pencil because I end up losing what pencils I have, hehe. Anyway, it was a mature subject and I don't think someone should ever joke about that. I take a topic like that and I morph into something important (art? I don't know) that has meaning. It shouldn't be just a scene that happens 'just because it happens'. I don't know if you get that but yeah. I try to make everyone as realistic as I can but sometimes I get away with it. I am so happy that you enjoyed that chapter though and hope you like this one too!
BriCat03: BAHAHAHA more 'It's Quiet Uptown' parodies! I'm sorry I didn't name the horse Ishikawa or some variation of it. I loved your name and you gave me the idea to use a French name for her horse, so thank you for that! :) Unfortunately, your theory is false - Genevieve is not pregnant (luckily). I hope with all the damage I've inflicted that this chapter heals some.
* "You must've given him your stomach flu, Eliza." Morning sickness is one of the telltale signs you're pregnant. Of course, only Eliza knows so far.
** Where are my boots? Literally my favorite line from Daveed's facebook Q and A. He's a fricken cinnamon roll and it's only fitting for it to be in a Lafayette fic.
*** "Châtain?" That's the name Lafayette gave her horse off-screen! It means 'Chestnut-brown.'
**** The grip had initials carved into them and as she ran a thumb over it, she realized it was an G and an L. I thought it would be a neat piece of foreshadowing. Sorry to disappoint you but that stiletto is not specifically made for Genevieve. (I'm all for Genevieve as a Lafayette though ;) heheh)