A/N: I'M ALIVE, I SWEAR.
Chapter 14: Letters
August 7, 1781
The Alcott and Schuyler families were in the drawing room. Genevieve was rubbing Eliza's slight bump with a fond smile while Ettie asked a million questions. Bennett was with Philip and her father while the Schuyler sisters all chatted with Genevieve.
"Is he giving you any trouble?" Peggy asked curiously, grinning from ear to ear as Eliza snorted.
"When does he not?" The woman replied when there was a loud scream. Genevieve looked up sharply, standing first along with Philip Schuyler. Running to the window, she watched as a crowd of people forced themselves through the gates.
"Sir, who-"
"Damn Indians," Schuyler cursed, turning to the families.
"Father, what's wrong?" Eliza asked, hand resting on her slight bulge on instinct. Thinking quick, Genevieve helped her father up and grabbed her siblings.
"Get upstairs. All of you, now!" She barked, helping Catherine Van Rensselaer up and towards the staircase. Eliza, Peggy and Angelica brought up the rear, making sure their parents got through first. In their panic, they stormed up the stairs. Genevieve's figure tensed as they continued to run up the path to the mansion. "Mr. Schuyler, go. I'll be right behind you." Gently nudging him towards the stairs, she glanced uneasily at the door.
As they slowly went up the grand staircase, she heard the banging of the locked door. They made it up just as they burst in. Pushing them out of sight, Genevieve's breath hitched as they split up. Tugging her skirts out of view, she took a few bated breaths. When she was sure they were gone, they snuck towards Eliza's room. "Where are you going?" Schuyler asked sharply as she continued to her room.
"Getting a pistol," she murmured and he nodded. "Warn them and make sure they know it'll be me." Stealthily walking to her room, she rummaged through her bag and found her pistol between her belt and her Continental Army jacket. Taking it, she clenched her fists, index finger tickling the trigger. Walking back to the room, she slipped inside, holding the gun up and softly letting the door click shut.
Everyone in the room was terrified. She steeled her nerves as Peggy took one of her sister's heels and wielded it like a sword. Standing beside Genevieve, Peggy's eyes trained on the door.
It was absolutely silent as the Native Americans searched the house. They could hear the shouts in a foreign language below them when Catherine gasped, eyes full of tears.
"What's wrong, dearest?" Philip asked urgently from where he crouched beside his wife. Eliza and Angelica shared panicked looks as they hugged each other at the end of the bed. "Catherine,"
"The baby is still done there," she whispered and there was a deathly quiet.
"I'll get her," Peggy volunteered, putting down the heel. "I'm the smallest, they won't hear me."
"Peggy, no!" Catherine shushed her daughter but the young sister shook her head. "You'll be killed."
"They won't find me. I promise, Mother," and with that, the door was open a sliver and Peggy was gone. Eliza nearly screamed but Angelica clamped a hand over her mouth. Genevieve swallowed a knot in her throat and her gaze met Schuyler's.
"Keep them safe."
"Where do you think you're going?" Angelica interrogated and Genevieve tested her stare with an equally pointed glare.
"Covering your sister's back." she growled. William hugged his younger children tightly but Bennett broke free. Their youngest sister burrowed into their father as he grabbed Genevieve's hand.
"Let me go with you."
"You barely know how to fire a gun, Bennett." She hissed, breaking free of his grip. "You may be seventeen but you aren't a soldier. I am," cupping his face, she forced a smile. "I'll be okay." It had been a long while since she had fired this gun. They didn't need to know that.
"Stay safe," he breathed. Nodding, she stroked his cheek with her thumb before standing.
Slipping out, she reached her skirt and wrapped a hand around the grip of his dagger, finger rubbing over the initials. Taking it out carefully, she had a gun in one hand and a knife in the other. Waiting near the steps, she took momentary peeks around the corner. "Come on, Peggy, come on," she whispered to herself when there was a slight patter of steps. Peggy ran into view, a baby cradled in her arms and she grinned.
"Where do you think you're going?" A male voice asked and Peggy froze. Turning around, the woman watched as a few Native Americans corner her. Her yellow skirts swished as she looked around, panic on her features.
"What do you want?" Peggy didn't sound scared, only defiant. "I have a baby in my arms, if you haven't noticed."
"We just need to know where Philip Schuyler is. Tell us and maybe your head will still be on your body by the end of the day." Another threatened her with an axe and Genevieve raised the pistol, aiming for the head. If one of them touched Peggy or the baby, a head would be blown off.
"Philip Schuyler?" She tried to act innocent but one of them jabbed a spear end towards her. Flinching away, Peggy brought the infant closer to her.
"We know he lives here."
"But he isn't here," Peggy snapped back coldly. "He left as soon as he caught wind of your approach - in fact, he should be here any moment with reinforcements." The intruders looked at each other, judging to her bluff. Genevieve shifted the gun in her hands. Don't you dare move, she ordered in her mind as the man she aimed at shook his head, trying to shake his doubts. Genevieve took a deep breath, steadying her hand. "You can stay - test my bluff - and be captured or you can leave, free."
There were a few moments, the dialect foreign to her before the weapons were lowered. "You are lucky, Schuyler,"
"Or we're smart," she growled as a loud call rang through the house. Peggy began to leave as men congregated at the base of the staircase. They watched as the curly-haired woman ascend the stairs, safe. Genevieve still kept her gun up, still out of sight when one of them pulled their arm back, tomahawk clasped firmly between his fingers.
He threw it with such force, the wind whistled in her ears. Peggy ran up the stairs quicker and it became embedded in the wall, cutting through the bannister that hung from the rails. Peggy laughed, almost mockingly as she reached the top of the steps. Another man held his spear up, even as the Natives began to retreat. Stepping out of her spot, Genevieve pointed the gun at the one man standing. His friends stood at the door, uncertain as he smirked.
"A woman holding a gun. A joke," he scoffed and she aimed slightly to his right where the parasol holder was. Sending a half-glance to Peggy in a way of telling her to cover the baby's ears, she hooked a finger on the trigger. Firing the gun, she felt it rattle in her ears as the bullet whizzed right past him. From her height, if she had aimed just a few centimeters to the left, it would've hit him right in the head and he knew it.
"A funny one indeed," Genevieve growled and he backed away, glancing uneasily at the hole in the metal. "Get out." And they did, running for their lives and hoping that she wouldn't shoot them in the back. Peggy breathed out and ran towards Eliza's room as Genevieve picked up the stiletto, going down the steps to where the handle stuck out from the wall. Sliding the blade flat against her thigh again, she lowered her skirts.
"Peggy, Catherine!" The Schuylers yelled. Peggy gave her little baby sister to her mother before embracing her older ones. The family was flooded with relief.
"We heard a gunshot," Bennett said and Genevieve turned around, tossing her head in the direction of the parasol holder. "Woah, you hit that?"
"Instead of someone's head, yes." She snorted, turning back to the tomahawk and pulling it out. Stretching her fingers over the grip, she brought it to Philip Schuyler who held his youngest daughter to his chest. "The thing that shows your daughter's bravery. Keep it as a badge of honor."
"We will," he said proudly, watching as Bennett ran a hand over the dented metal. "Thank you,"
"Thank your daughter." She said as she descended the steps. Ettie helped their father down before launching into her sister's body. "I'm fine, Ettie."
"That was - I thought we were going to die. And you go through that everyday?" Genevieve smiled, running a hand through her sister's blonde hair. "Don't you get terrified?" Crouching down in front of her, she embraced the blonde tightly. The brunette thought of Lafayette, his musky scent and warmth. The spark in his eyes as he spoke to her. Patting her sister, she closed her eyes and hugged the girl even tighter.
"Yes," she acknowledged softly.
"What would've happened if I lost you?"
"You would've been fine," she murmured, eyes opening before pulling back and wiping away any tears. Looking at her brother, Genevieve pulled him down into the hug too. He laughed shakily, wrapping an arm around her. Kissing Ettie's forehead, she looked up at her father.
"What would I have done if I lost you?" Her father repeated his daughter's question, joints aching as he joined them on the floor. "Every day you're not with us, I hope that I won't see a soldier on my door."
"You'd all have been fine. Because there are parts of me that live on. In you, in Lafayette, in everything I love." She looked into her father's wet eyes, "I may look the most like Mother but," she stroked Bennett's chin, "he has her warmth. Ettie," Genevieve tapped her younger sister's nose, "she has her smile."
"But-"
"Father,"* she hugged them all tightly again, "it'll be fine. Parts of her live on, you know you can move on."**
"I love you," he murmured and she pressed a kiss to his cheek. Looking into her siblings' faces, she could only see how mature, how much they've grown up. It was bittersweet - she could remember when they were just barely grown, running in the fields of their school.
"And I love you. All of you." Hugging them again, she sighed, "I always will."
August 16, 1781
Dear Genevieve,
I hope you are doing well. It seems so very like mademoiselle Peggy to laugh at the fact that an axe was thrown at her head.
Anyway, as you have requested in your last letter, I will update you on our current plans. Comte de Grasse should be reaching Chesapeake Bay in a short amount of time. Cornwallis made a mistake making Yorktown his base. We will cut them off at sea, bombard them until they are too weak and seize their redoubts. It's a sure victory when we overpower them.
I only wish you would be here to watch the British retreat. This has been your fight from the very beginning and I can't believe that you aren't here to see its end. I want you to stay safe but I know it's useless to tell you to. Your knack for disobedience is one of the reasons I am so deeply in love with you.
There are many reasons - I cannot possibly list them all. Please, do not ask me. But up with your smile and sharp tongue is the fire inside you that burns brighter than the fire around you.
There is nothing that can tear you down. Even from this, I know you will heal. We may have had doubts, love, but there are none now. We are both stronger than this. Our love is stronger than this.
That was incredibly romantic yet still so disgusting but it is true. Even now, I want to hold you and kiss you. I hope you feel the same way.
I am on my wit's end. The people are relying on me more than ever to correspond with Grasse and help plan our next moves. Rochambeau can only do so much with an army our size. Your letters are the only moments of peace I can get.
Please, respond soon, ma moitié,***
Lafayette; August 11, 1781
August 26, 1781
My love,
I'm so sorry this letter is so late in response. Between helping my father and Ollie run the tavern, and the Schuylers dragging me from one political party to the next, I fear that my schedule is rather tight. Today is the one day I have to write to you and I've constructed what I wanted to say whilst away.
First off, that is an ingenious move. A victory is sure if Grasse defeats any reinforcements coming his way and Cornwallis cannot escape. I can only dream of how long it took to formulate such a plan. With a stroke of luck, you have snagged the prize. But, I guess, we should not be too cocky. The British may find a way through your offense and the army will have another Lee if we're not careful.
Secondly, how are Alexander and John doing? I haven't heard from them recently and neither have the Schuylers - are they alright? I miss them, even if they are idiots. Besides, Eliza needs to see Alexander - she has very important news. I hope her letter had been received and that General Washington takes the right directive in sending him home.
Or, he could wait until Alexander does something stupid. Which should be quite soon, really.
I kid.
Anyway, I shall dedicate this portion of my letter to you. Lafayette, of course I feel the same way as you. Despite my hesitancies, I long for the warmth of your embrace or the spark in your eyes when you speak. I can only hold on to your voice for so long. I wish I could be there for you as you are always for me, but just know that if I could, I'd try to take the edge off reality. Perhaps create a world in our mind where it was a perfect world before the harshness of reality erased it.
Your blade is what has given me courage to even step into the world of politics. I always have it close to me and it allows me to believe that you are close by my side. I have something for you too. I hope when you see it, you'll understand the meaning of it. And if not, just remember the wedding night in which we bared ourselves at our most vulnerable and confessed the love we shared.
Adieu with the sweetest of love,
Genevieve; August 20, 1781
Lafayette put down the letter after re-reading it at least three times and sighed. Taking the package it had been tied to, he slowly unwrapped it. Alexander was at their desk, writing furiously to his wife as John scratched down ideas to talk about in his next letter to Peggy on his cot. "What do you have there?" Alexander inquired, looking up briefly and dipping his quill into the ink. Lafayette shrugged, looking at her empty bed.
"Something from Genevieve," the marquis said, taking out the worn shirt. He furrowed his brow, taking it out and holding it up. Taking off the shirt he wore, he pulled his head through the one she gave him and immediately recognized her scent. Bringing the neck of the shirt to his nose, he realized it smelt so powerfully of wind and sweet blossoms that he could imagine that she was here.
The wedding night. The night they had spent to themselves, indulging in time like they had an infinite life with each other. It was the shirt she wore to sleep and the shirt she wore when he slammed the door and left.
A testament to how far they've come.
His heart ached and his lungs were weak as he leaned forward, elbows digging into his knees. His eyes slid close, just inhaling her scent. The dark-eyed man could imagine her wearing it so often the days before she sent it.
"Lafayette?"
"It is her shirt. Mine," he corrected, "but hers. I gave it to her."
"Ah. Is that why you're breathing it in like air?" John teased and Lafayette smirked.
"When you love someone, John, you take anything you can get. You will know this eventually when you ask mademoiselle Peggy for her hand. Continue writing," he added loftily when John groaned. Lying down on his cot, Lafayette closed his eyes and tried to hold on to the feel of her arm strewn across his chest or the smile against his collarbone as they slept. The wind and blossoms invade his sense of smell and he sighed, content and at ease for once.
Then it was broken by the call of supper. Getting up, he just smiled stupidly to himself as Alexander finished up his letter and lead the way out of the tent.
September 5, 1781
Genevieve pushed herself up, sweat and dust covering her brow as she swung her arms in wide circles. The push-ups she had been doing burned her muscles that had been lax with disuse. Ever since the Natives had tried to capture Schuyler, she had re-trained herself back into her prime all the while attending parties, helping around the tavern and running errands for Eliza as she became increasingly pregnant.
No wonder she was tired all the time.
But it was a good tired. A tired that came from being productive and a tired that made her happy. Wiping at her face with a towel, she sighed as the fall wind began to sweep through the grounds. A servant walked up to her and she raised her head, smiling. "Ms. Alcott, are you busy?"
"No, not at all." The young boy blushed, "What do you need?" He held out a letter and she took it, raising an eyebrow when she saw it.
"Ms. Eliza asked me to deliver this to you. She's in her room, resting before supper if you'd like to talk to her." He offered and Genevieve shook her head.
"I'll find her. Thank you, Todd." She said and he bowed before turning around and walking away, ears red. Deciding to walk down to the gardens which were a short ways away from the training grounds, she strolled through the flowers before sitting down on a bench. Looking up at the mansion, she saw the curtains for the library drawn closed.
Opening the envelope and unfolding the letter, she immediately saw Lafayette's elegant scrawl in a short note.
Dearest Genevieve,
To the point. Alexander has done something incredibly stupid. Laurens and him had challenged Lee to a duel and Laurens ended up shooting the man in the side. Of course, it was Alexander's idea first. I need to write this quickly as I'm being called to a Council soon but he's being sent home. He should arrive on the 10th at the latest. I think you would agree with me in saying that he needs time off.
In your last letter, you stated that madame Hamilton had written to the General bearing important news. I hope that is one of the reasons George has sent our friend home. He needs to see his wife before he gets expelled for his brashness.
And I love what you have sent me. I wear it all the time and it seems even when we're far apart, we're still by each other's side. If that made any sense. I do not know - this language can be quite confusing at times.
Adieu, ma belle,
Lafayette; August 27
September 11, 1781
Genevieve leafed through an ancient book, bored out of her mind. Alexander had arrived the day before, as Lafayette predicted, and currently, the Hamiltons were strolling through the gardens. Going to the windows, she pulled back the curtains and tied them, letting the weak sunlight stream through before looking out into the gardens. Eliza was with her husband as he placed his hands on her rounded abdomen.
The house was so quiet, Peggy tutoring Ettie somewhere else in the house while Bennett was out with a girl he had been talking about for days. Schuyler and his wife were in the den while her father was in the kitchen.
"I wrote to the General a month ago."
"No-"
"I begged him to send you home." Eliza seemed to be saying. The brunette had heard her rehearse what she was going to say to her husband the moment she learned that he was returning home. Genevieve grinned, remember the nights Eliza had spent pacing back and forth in her room as she tried to think of what to say to her idiot of a husband.
"You should've told me."
"I'm not sorry," the woman said defiantly and Alexander looked at her. Eliza gazed at her husband with a mixture of pride and love. "I knew you'd fight until the war was won,"
"The war's not done!"
Her gaze was stern, "but you deserve a chance to meet your son."
Feeling like she was intruding, Genevieve turned away from the sun and looked at the dusty pages of the book she held. Returning it back to the shelf, she felt a memory tug at her conscious and she remembered that she was in this position before - in Lafayette's apartment as she held Ollie's daughter - when he received news of Rochambeau's arrival. Closing her eyes, she sighed.
Her mind imagined his hands on her shoulders and if she just turned her head slightly to the right, he would press a kiss to her cheek before hugging her tightly around her waist. And she'd turn around in the circle of his arms, pepper his face with gentle kisses before he caught her jaw and fit their mouths together in a deep kiss.
And he'd try and say something and she'd shut him up with another kiss.
Opening her eyes reluctantly when the door opened, she pulled away from the bookcase. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Ollie holding his daughter. "Hey."
"Ollie," turning around, she smiled and clasped her hands in front of her, "Why - who's running the tavern?"
"I helped your father back and he's showing Lottie the ropes," he said, referring to his wife. "But look who I brought,"
"I noticed her quite clearly," she quipped, going over to pick up Theresa from her father's arms. The baby clapped when she came closer, trying to jump out of her father's arms. "Hello, young lady. Isn't this a pretty dress?" Resting the baby in her arms, she smiled down at her soft features. Theresa cooed, grabbing a lock of hair playfully.
"Mr. Mulligan made it," Ollie informed and Genevieve smiled. Carrying the baby to the window, she saw now that Eliza and Alexander were talking quietly, his hand never leaving her abdomen. Looking into Theresa's chubby face, she nearly started when she felt a warm sensation that was so alike to Lafayette's hand rest on her own navel. Whipping around, she only saw Ollie as he looked at the shelves.
"Ollie?" She rasped and he looked at her strangely. Shaking herself, she smiled and joined him. He dismissed her weirdness in favor of looking at the rows and rows of books.
"These are a lot of books."
"Who has the time to read it all?" She agreed, transferring his daughter back into his arms. Sighing, she ran a hand over the scar on her arm. Seeing his wedding band, she felt her interest pique. "What's it like - being married to the woman you love?" He beamed with the warmth of the sun.
"Like the loveliest feeling in the world. And when you have a child," he looked at her, eyes glinting with joy before looking at his sweet daughter, "you know what true fulfillment is. Why?" Blushing, she looked away, fingers running over old spines. "Genny?" Looking sheepishly at her friend, she shrugged.
"I'm in love with him," she confessed as if he didn't already know, "but I never knew I wanted to marry him - I never knew we'd make it this far."
"Love has a funny way, sometimes," he remarked, "it shows up at the strangest of times with the power to crush you or give you hope. Genny," he made her look at him, "the way you love him... it's a hopeful one. Don't lose it." Closing her eyes, she tried to imagine a life without Lafayette and only ended up imagining them in their own house - America or France, she didn't know - as a young boy ran around the house, his long hair in a ponytail and his features so alike to his father. A life with him. That's what was waiting for her after the war.
"I won't," she promised and it held true for the rest of her life.
A/N: DECEASED AFTER THIS CHAPTER. Honestly, I'm so sorry it took me so long to get this up. Life has been super hectic, including personal crap that I've had to go through but the point is, this is up. I wrote the first 3/4 of it almost a week ago and I only finished this today. I hope you enjoy, either way.
Thank you everyone for waiting patiently, reviewing, favoriting and following this story.
REVIEWS:
BriCat03: Chillll my duudeee. I updated and I'm so happy you think this is worth re-reading! :) But, wdym relinking old plot points?
PaintingMusic14: That's so sweet! Thank you!
Kitty of 2 kingdoms: OOOO! ANOTHER COMPLIMENT? I cannot handle it, lol. Thank you so much! I really wanna add more Laf and Washington moments but they're gonna be few and far in between. It's okay, though, I added John/Laf/Alex conversation instead! Thank you for reading!
* "Father," Normally she uses Papa. This is to show how serious she is.
** "Parts of her live on, you know you can move on." Inspiration from Dear Theodosia (Reprise) because it's one of my absolute faves.
*** Please, respond soon, ma moitié, The French here translates to 'my better half' or 'my other half' because cute!