Chapter 13: Albany
July 21, 1781
The sky had turned into its signature summer blue and few clouds inhabited the sky. Genevieve was dozing, her breaths soft against his collar as he craned to look at her. She looked so peaceful, no sign of strife on her face as she slept. The roof wasn't uncomfortable but it wasn't comfortable either as he kept an arm firmly around her to keep her from falling or slipping. She had bent her knees and tucked into his chest, legs slipping between his as she tried to leech the warmth he radiated.
It was strange. He couldn't quite remember how he got into this situation but he wasn't complaining. Her brown tendrils spilled down her back, the hat long removed to provide comfort. His legs cramped but he didn't say anything until she stirred. Her deep breathing became quicker as her heart and brain woke up.
"Ma chérie, it's morning." He murmured and for a moment, he saw fear glaze over her eyes. Stroking her cheek with a hand, he brushed away the panic and grinned when her eyes fluttered shut again.
"Two more minutes," she mumbled into his chest. Chuckling, he squeezed her arm and leaned on her head, cheek into her hair.
"I have to leave in a few hours. I'd like to eat before then," he teased and she groaned, separating from him.
"Men and their stomachs," she said, voice twisted with faux-disgust as he spun around to face his roof again. Helping her stand up carefully, he squeezed her hand. "Are we doing this together?" She asked, head still foggy with sleep.
"Yes." At that, Genevieve seemed to snap awake. "Always," he promised and she nodded shakily. "Don't run too fast, you'll slip off the shingles. I will count us down and I will not let you fall. That, I promise." Another tentative nod. Their fingers intertwined, the couple glanced at each other.
"If I die, I will kill you." She vowed and he chuckled. "With your own dagger, I swear it."
"I will hold you to it, love." Then he began to tug her down the roof, and with a slight yelp, she followed after. As one, they leapt into the air and for a moment, Genevieve thought she'd plummet to the ground like Icarus. But Lafayette's hand steadied her and when her foot made contact with the next roof, she felt relief and adrenaline flood her veins. The same exhilaration as the first time woke her up and suddenly, she was engulfed in a hug. "Told you. Not a single scratch on you."
"My hero," she grinned. "Thank you again, for the morning." He patted the pocket where the envelope she had given him rested.
"You've already given me enough." He assured. "Let's go downstairs." The marquis began to work on the hatch again as she looked out into the city. Bustling, lively crowds greeted each other as they came and went. Breathing in the wind, she felt her lungs fill with cold air. "Gen?"
"Coming," she called, tearing her gaze away from the tavern and walking back to him. That was her next destination. Lafayette's stomach growled and he flushed. Laughing at his embarrassment, she lead the way down the stairs. This time, the darkness didn't seem so scary when the sun was out and a knife in her boot. "Let's get you some breakfast before you starve."
.
They snuck back in, swiping a few fruits and pastries before sneaking out again. Genevieve could barely hold her giggle when Eliza swept past the closet they were hiding in. Lafayette had to clamp a hand over her mouth as he tried to make more room for the both of them, knowing that although the brunette was having a fun time, she was hyper aware of his movements. Once Mrs. Hamilton passed, she gently pushed open the closet and took a look down each way of the hallway.
"Come on," she whispered, leading the way out the door again before jumping onto Châtain. Her stallion nickered as Lafayette mounted his dun and they nudged the sides to kick off into a trot. The gates, guards posted at them now, opened as they made their way down into the central area of Albany. Slowing to a walk as they began to eat, they exchanged tidbits of desserts they found unexpectedly delicious.
"Try this," he leaned over from his saddle, one hand firmly gripping the reins. Genevieve chewed on her apple before veering off and dropping the core to the ground. Rejoining the road, she swallowed and looked at the firm cake he held.
"What is it?"
"It is a lemon cake, I think." He took a bite to prove it, revealing its yellow insides. "Sweet, but still sour." Taking the cake from his hand, she took a tentative nibble before letting out a slight squeal. "Told you."
"Haha, very funny." She snorted, juggling the pouch of fruit as she took the cake in her hands. "Come on, we're running behind."
.
They reached the house she once called home and they dismounted, going to the tavern. Glancing at the Lafayette, they begun to walk towards the entrance. Patrons were leaving and she opened the door for them who sent her strange looks.
"Thank you," some of them muttered and she nodded, tipping her hat at them. She had completely forgot that she was still dressed as a man. Genevieve entered with Lafayette and immediately saw her father behind the bar as Ollie swerved in between the tables. Her father looked up at the sound of the tinkling and she stared at him.
"Genevieve!" He yelled, getting the attention of all the patrons but he didn't care. He ran around the bar and wrapped both lafayette and Genevieve in a huge hug. "And Lafayette. God, I have prayed every day for you to return home safely - the both of you." He added with a stern look at the marquis. "How are you?" He murmured, rubbing a thumb under her eyes and she smiled weakly.
"Good. But, Eliza told me you were sick. Why are you up?" She added with concern and he waved it off.
"I needed to stretch my legs. Both of you, let's go into the living room. I want to catch up. Ollie, can you take over?"
"Of course, sir. Genny," he threw a wink her way, "it's so damn good to see you again."
July 25, 1781
George Washington eyed the map of Virginia, Yorktown in bold lettering. Blinking away the dots in his vision, he sighed and leaned back, gaze drifting to the other various items littered across his desk. A quill and inkpot, some drafts Alexander had written before he left. Rubbing his face, he rested his elbows on the desk and buried his face in his hands. Exhaustion pulled at every side and he didn't know which way to go.
Harcourt had already been court-martialed and punished with no chance of freedom. Washington had made sure of that. But one thought echoed in his mind as he read the letter Congress had sent. Why didn't I find them sooner? He had been suspicious of the old soldier. There were signs that there wasn't something quite right and yet he tried to reason that he wouldn't go that far. Sighing, he leaned back into his chair. Alexander had defended well, had given accounts and evidence as to why there was no room for the Congress to even doubt what had happened. At least he did one thing right in appointing him as his right hand man.
As one of his personal guards ducked into the tent, George raised his head with his eyes closed. He was trying to find some ounce of solace but when her flushed, crying face and Lafayette's murderous glower appeared in his mind, he gave up. There would be no sleep tonight.
"Sir, there's someone here to see you." Standing, the General nodded and the soldier left, soft words being exchanged before a tall, lean man came in, his hair messy around his face. There was something different - as if he were happier. When Lafayette stopped a metre or so in front of him, he seemed brighter than he had been the past few days - younger. War had not stolen what optimism he had yet.
He was wearing his dark navy coat, one that he was given when he was promoted to Major General. Its double row of golden buttons clasped the double-breasted coat together, wrapping tightly around the chest. Other little golden embellishments decorated across his lapels and around the cuffs were used along with the golden epaulets.*
The Frenchman was extremely fond of it but Washington could faintly remember a rainy spring evening in Valley Forge. He watched from the window of his cabin, a break from organizing the next few weeks of patrols. As the soldiers retreated to their cabins, Lafayette unbuttoned his tailcoat and wrapped an arm around her, covering the both of them with the coat. Without fail, it had made her laugh as they were soaked within seconds.
Perhaps it wasn't that he loved the jacket itself, but loved the memories attached to it - loved the woman he shared them with. "Major General."
"Your Excellency," his smile was wide, "You requested to see me?"
"Yes. I just wanted to know how Ms. Alcott was doing." He did. Genuinely concerned for her, he couldn't help but worry like a father. The last he had seen of her, the dark circles threatened to take over her eyes.
"She's better. I don't know how well she is sleeping but I'm planning to write to her soon." He pushed off from the desk, a lovestruck expression on his face. "Is there anything else?" George surveyed his Major General. There was still a glint of when the man was nineteen, outside the recruitment office and begging for a place in the army. Even if it was for free.
The belt that cinched around his waist held the sheath of his sword, but George could swear that there always used to be a smaller one that was strapped closer to the body. A thinner sheath for a blade that could easily be hidden behind the large sword he carried into battle.
"Your knife is gone." He commented and Lafayette flushed, hand coming up and thumb hooking under his waistband. "Son, your attachment to that dagger is more dear than some men to their wives." He said frankly. It was true. During all of basic, the Frenchman refused to give up that weary blade up for a new one, fresh out of the blacksmith's.
"I guess my attachment to Genevieve is more dear to me than that." Lafayette spoke proudly. "I'd think a pistol on her belt would not be the most… proper." Washington let out a hearty laugh and nodded. "It is only fair for her to be able to protect herself." His smile faded, mouth set into a firm line as Lafayette sighed.
"Yes, it is." He sat down. Lafayette turned to leave, thinking the conversation was over, and George swallowed to wet his dry throat. The bang of a musket as she shot the sawdust-filled dummy right through the head. The proud spark that lit up her face as she stood up for herself in front of the men.
The vigil she took the night he was injured. The fire in their eyes even when they were estranged and distanced. The numerous times Washington himself had walked into the tent looking for one of them after their reconciliation only to find them still asleep together. Nothing scandalous, just her arm thrown across his chest, his around her shoulders as they shared their warmth.
They thought George didn't know. When you're a father to a man like Lafayette, you knew.
"Lafayette,"
"Oui?"
"Marry that girl one day." Again, that soft, dreamlike smile appeared on the young man's face and George Washington could remember a time when he held the same smile. That same, stupid smile. In Lafayette's mind, every single moment between them was playing in a blur. The first time they had met, their first dance together, their first night, kiss, everything. A smile across the campfire during supper or his teasing remarks followed by her sharp quips in response. Every stolen kiss because the world was against them. There was only so much time for love.
But to have her in his arms for the rest of his life was almost a utopia. As soon as he was able, he'd do it. So when he answered, "I intend to, George," both of them knew he wasn't lying.
July 30, 1781
"It's not that I don't like parties-" Genevieve tried to convince her friends as they pulled her around Albany. They were searching for Hercules' shop and while Genevieve knew exactly where it was, the Schuyler sisters wanted to explore around.
"You don't like parties." The three sisters deadpanned as they explored the square. "Don't worry. It's more political than anything and we'll be beside you the whole time." Angelica added. "It'll be fine."
"We just need to find you a dress." Genevieve rolled her eyes as Eliza finally spotted Hercules' shop. "There he is!"
"I could've told you that when we left!" She complained. Peggy laughed freely, leading the way into the shop. The bell rung, signaling their arrival. "Besides, I have to finish my response to Lafayette."
"It'll only take a minute." Peggy promised.
It ended up taking an hour or so.
August 3, 1781
My dearest Genevieve,
I confess, my thoughts have been focused solely on you. Washington complains that my head is in the clouds but how can I not think of your grace or quick-wit?
Genevieve weaved in between the crowd, a wine glass in hand as Angelica lead her around to meet her father's various colleagues. So far, the woman had been an image of a perfect daughter, complements spewing out of her mouth along with rightly worded sentences. She had just blocked most of the nonsense out, trying to compose a response to Lafayette's latest letter while this party went on.
Or the way your smile mirrors the curve of an angel's bow when Alexander or John tells a stupid joke. I even miss the strength of your arms. They would always hold me up but now, you aren't here. I only dream to feel the soft touch of your hand or your lips against mine once more.
"Angelica, please, introduce me to your companion." An older man's voice made her focus in on the conversation.
"Genevieve," she had used her full name during the event. Just in case. "This is Mr. Holloway."
"Genevieve Alcott," she curtseyed deeply, "pleased to meet you." What a lie. The man reeked of whiskey and his wife seemed to have the expression of being constantly sour. "And Mrs. Holloway, you're looking exquisite, as Angelica tells me you always are." A smile came across her face effortlessly. She hoped they couldn't tell that she was lying through her teeth.
"Thank you, dear." Genevieve nodded, sipping on her wine. "How are you?"
"Quite well, thank you."
"Angelica, dear," Mr. Holloway addressed her friend who stiffened just slightly. More pressingly, Genevieve could feel the stiletto she had strapped to the inside of her thigh. His hand fidgeted in his pocket and his wife was extremely agitated. In fact, while he arm was looped in her husband's, she looked as if she never wanted to see him again. "How is your father?"
But perhaps, it is for the best. We need time. I hope you're putting my dagger to good use.
Angelica's arm looped through hers and smiled. Genevieve widened her own smile, feeling the beginnings of it starting to falter. "Strong as ever. You know him."
"Of course. Anyway, it was nice talking to you, Angelica. And a pleasure meeting you, Genevieve."
"You too," she said and they were whisked away by the crowd. Angelica let go of her arm and Genevieve turned to her. "Something's up with those two."
"This is politics. Something is always up with the enemy," Angelica remarked and Genevieve arched an eyebrow as she drank her wine. "Don't drink too much. The Holloways are out for money. Johnstons for power." They turned to look at a man talking to the couple they had just spoken to. "Allies, in a way. Want to worm their way to the top."
"Johnstons?" Genevieve echoed, "I know their son."
I know you will take care of it.
"Really?"
"I was… I knew him more than just an acquaintance." The brunette explained and Angelica hummed. "I would say courted but it's such a tight term. I didn't know he was desperate."
"Not him, just his parents. Otherwise, why else would they let you in his sights?"
"How do you mean?"
"If you're friends with us, you have connections." Angelica muttered under her breath and Genevieve sighed.
"Of course. Do you think he tried to be boring, though?" At that, there was a chuckle.
You're a smart woman.
"No. It was just how he was raised." Eliza and Peggy were making their way towards them. "God, I love yet hate politics." There was a spark in her eyes when Angelica talked about the game of bluffs. "It's like war, every step needing to be cautious. A terribly intricate game." And at that, Genevieve got an idea. Stepping up beside the oldest Schuyler, she sent a coy smile her way as a few of the politicians' sons walked past. Waving her fingers at them in a faux-shy way, Genevieve leaned in beside Angelica, giving the impression that she was talking about them.
And I know you'll be fine what with the combined forces of the Schuyler sisters, Hercules, Oliver and your family, as well as your cleverness and your instinct to persevere.
The boys nudged each other but the four of them weren't paying attention. "Angelica, do you want to teach me how to play?" Eliza and Peggy raised their eyebrows and shared dubious looks as Angelica smirked, wrapping an arm around Genevieve and pulling her into the crowd.
But that doesn't stop me from missing you more and more each day. I love you, mon ange. You are truly the light at the end of this dark tunnel.
The rest of the night was wasted away as Angelica sweet-talked away the sons of politicians and Genevieve listened intently, picking up the subtle movements and body language the Schuyler radiated. A gentle pat on the arm, a tilt of the head as she asked for more wine.
I love you, Gen. It is as simple as that. And as you said yourself with your love for me, I can say the same for you. The one I love most is you. No matter what, never doubt that. I will come back to you, even if I have to drag myself through hell.
Genevieve learnt quickly, storing the information in her head as she asked one of the son's friends for another drink. Leading him away, all she could think of was Lafayette. The dagger pressed against her thigh as he poured the dark liquid into her glass. The man seemed non-threatening but she couldn't help the panic building up in her throat. Swallowing a knot, she tried to keep a cool head.
Perhaps he would've been proud had he seen her. She listened as he began to speak, filtering out whatever he was saying. Every unimportant word went in through one ear and out another but when she caught an interesting pause in his speech, she looked up at him. "Something wrong?" She asked innocently.
"Nothing," he smiled as did she. Immediately he changed the subject from the Native Americans to his father's current business managing the trade. Keeping that in mind, she went along with it but couldn't help but watch inconspicuously over his shoulder as Philip Schuyler shook hands with her companion's father. Something didn't sit right.
You are worth it.
Adieu, mon amour. Indulge in the sweet gifts domesticality can give you until I can come home,
Lafayette; July 27, 1781
A/N: Hey, there! So, I've been super busy and I only just got this done like last night and posting today. Anyway, this is a sweeter chapter yet kinda plot-related. I hoped you liked the letter and shizzam and we're going to see more of the Schuyler sisters! Yay! Anyway, I've made a tumblr if any of you want to read extras of any of my fics. It's called whistlingwillows. I hope you enjoy that :)
On that note, I've started a college AU fic for Adrienne and Lafayette. Adrienne is Lafayette's actual wife in history. There are 2 chapters up and it'd mean the world if you checked it out too!
REVIEWS:
Kitty of 2 kingdoms: Yeah, I'm trying to stick as close to the musical as possible while keeping it relatively historically kinda accurate? Alexander should be sent home in the next, if not the one after, chapter. Thank you for reviewing!
Willow: OH, LORD THAT IS LIKE THE BEST COMPLIMENT? I loVEd J.K Rowling when I was little and to be said to write like her is such a huge compliment? Like, how do I thank you! I'm so happy you enjoyed my little notes at the end because I think they add more depth and oh my gosh I'm so happy. When I got that review, it literally made my day. (P.S, your spelling was just fine :) )
BriCat03: Yeah, Philip is just, blargh. I love writing him though because I like roasting people.
RiseUpWiseUp: EYEYEY YOU ARE FANTASTIC ALSO! I am so happy that you loved the chapter and ELIZA IS PREGGO SHE IS PREGGO!
* Other little golden embellishments decorated across his lapels and around the cuffs were used along with the golden epaulets. I'm trying to describe the tailcoat Lafayette wears in the Battle of Yorktown song. It's my favorite jacket in the play because it's just so fancy while everyone else is the same. I mean, even George has the same thing except a blue sash and the golden epaulets. Lafayette gotta be extra LOL