A/N: Hi reader! Thanks for continuing with this story, and for your response to the prologue. Now the backstory! Which will be presented in five multi chapter parts, the first four of which are all a large flashback. Now, I warned you this wasn't going to be historically accurate, but the people Angie meets here were her real friends made in France! I really hope you enjoy this, please feel free to offer any advice!
Chapter 1 - When I've lost my way: Part I
Winter 1787
In theory, the more dazzlingly cosmopolitan city of Paris, awash with socialites and socialists vying for power in an atmosphere alight with revolutionary friction much like her home city had been in the days of her youth ought to have suited Angelica Schuyler Church far more comfortably than London, where she had lived for the past few years.
In reality, a woman who is prone to miss her true roots so dreadfully felt only further sorrow at leaving a place she had learned to consider her home, forced to bid farewell to the British social circles which had successfully distracted her somewhat from her family back in the United States. Not that it could have been avoided - she would have remained in London had her husband not been required in France, and seeing as it was an engagement he could not decline along with the fact that it was simply unacceptable in his mind for him to travel across the channel and inhabit that foreign country bereft of the company of his wife and children, she had no option but to follow him.
She was not entirely alone, of course: her children, Philip at the age of nine and Kitty at the age of eight, were constant comforts to their adoring Mother, and remained the only consistently enduring evidential proof that some good could come from her choice in husband, even if it meant she was destined to be forever bound to him in the holy chains of marriage.
Like a wolf kept on a leash meant for some pitiful mutt, she reflected bitterly, regretting not for the first time her decision to elope with the first wealthy gentleman to capture her attention when she was (as ten years of reflection had finally shown her) realistically too young and naive to fully comprehend the inevitable consequences of their rash actions.
Lost in her own mind, her surroundings had seemingly slipped away from her until she felt a hand covering hers, stopping the incessant drumming of her polished nails upon the dining table that she hadn't even noticed she'd been doing, and suddenly she was sitting dejectedly before a plate of food which had clearly lost its heat some time ago in their new home in Paris, her husband at her side and gazing at her with clear concern in his eyes.
"Come, dear, enough of this. What on Earth is the matter?" The look of unreserved disappointment she shot him reinforced the fact that he should be all too aware that she was none too pleased about the move. Sighing, he squeezed her hand comfortingly and decided, "You're not happy, that much is obvious. You're bored, is that it? In want of some adult company other than that of your husband."
It was neither a question nor an accusation, just a statement of what they both knew to be the truth. Still, when he did all he could to keep her in comfort, she felt guilty even admitting her desire to interrupt the monotonous pattern of her life with John with something, anything new. "It is not that I am tired of your company," she assured, unable to meet his gaze, "simply that I need to hear something other than our two voices when I engage in intelligent conversation." That way, I might encounter someone other than myself who is actually capable of upholding an interesting discussion.
"Of course, it is natural that you should require such a thing. And you shall have it," John stated affirmatively, fully understanding that he was often insufficient company to satisfy his wife - for all the wealth he possessed, the solution to the mystery that was Angelica's heart would forever elude John Barker Church: it was quite simply something that money could not buy.
Even so, he tried, in spite of the fact that he made more false steps on his journey to win her true adoration than he would ever know. "You may accompany me tomorrow to the State Ball. I am required to attend due to my political position, and I would be delighted to have the most astonishing beauty on my arm to aid me in making a good impression."
So I am attending to serve a function as opposed to fulfilling my own needs... Nevertheless, I don't have the luxury of refusing my first opportunity to mingle with Parisian society. Overlooking his slightly patronizing tone and instead summoning a smile, Angelica nodded, "I would love that, my dear."
"Then it is settled," John nodded, pleased with his efforts, before rising to his feet. He kissed her forehead on his way from the room, presumably going elsewhere to tackle some other puzzle. Anything at all would prove to be far more easily deciphered than the woman who had chosen to become his other half.
For the first time since setting foot on French soil, Angelica Church was legitimately impressed: She was no architect, but the grandeur of the gaudy high ceilings painted with scenes of celestial Angels supported on golden arches and reflected in mirrors forming entire panels of the walls was not lost on her. Neither was the presence of hundreds of people dressed in the finest silks with delicate lace trims on every edge and complex embroidery decorating cuffs, collars and bodices.
The only thing which detracted from the otherwise incredible setting was the fact that she was not free to roam on her own and fulfil her need to express and then quench her thirst for knowledge. Instead, as he had initially suggested, John Church kept one arm out for his wife to hold on to, whilst the other was kept entirely free so that he might shake the hands of any gentleman who crossed his path.
As for Angelica, she remained almost silent, with John introducing her on her behalf and proceeding with his own conversation before she could so much as greet the stranger standing before the couple, let alone discuss anything even remotely interesting.
That is, until she locked eyes with a familiar figure.
Instantly, a welcoming grin spread across her old friend's slender face, reflecting her own delighted relief, and he made towards her without hesitation. As soon as he drew close enough that she would not appear too eager to disentangle her hands from her husband's forearm, she reached out for him, holding his slim shoulders as she regarded him with warmth and ease. "Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette, I suppose I should have expected to see you here in your home country, but it is a joy to see you again anyway," she greeted fondly.
"Et Mademoiselle Angelica Schuyler! You are my sister through our shared brother of Alexander Hamilton, and yet I had no idea of your trip to France. Mon Dieu, you should have told me!" Lafayette scolded, his accent far thicker than it had been when they had last spoken, presumably influenced by his fellow countrymen.
Although his words were meant to chastise her, his smile clearly showed he was not at all angry at her. Like almost everyone she encountered, he had been too charmed by her upon their first meeting many years ago when he along with several soldiers in Washington's army had been permitted to rest and recuperate at her family mansion in Albany, before the man he considered a brother had even married Angelica's younger sister, to ever hold a grudge against her. "Cependant, c'est tres marvielleux pour moi to see you again."
After so long, it was comforting to encounter his occasionally confusing combination of English and French, and the woman felt a bubble of laughter rise within her and escape. He took one of her hands and politely kissed it, before turning to John and realizing, "Here is a man I do not know. Angelica?"
"My husband, John Barker Church," Angelica introduced, in the sort of unintentionally offhand manner of one who is forced to demonstrate correct social etiquette when they are in fact solely desperate to converse with the new presence before them. Which, ironically, was exactly how she had been introduced to John's acquaintances.
"I am honoured to meet the Marquis de Lafayette, Monsieur," John replied, shaking the Frenchman's hand as he recalled, "I have heard several tales of your bravery and wit in defending my Angelica's homeland."
Lafayette chuckled warmly, commenting with a playful smirk towards his old friend, "Je suis convaincu que the man who has successfully tamed the eldest Schuyler sister must possess courage and intelligence to match my own, if not exceed it, Monsieur."
Angelica gasped in mock offense, raising her brows in shock as she exclaimed, "Marquis, you make me sound like some rebellious creature determined to defy convention!" If only you knew I was all too easily won over by a charming accent and a series of generous gifts just like every other woman, a perfect example of a traditional wife. Still, it was reassuring to discover that she was still remembered by some as the feisty young girl her tender age had allowed her to be without any repercussions many years ago.
"Truly, I don't think you can deny it," Lafayette warned, playfully smirking and winking at her as he did so, however a slight frown from her husband prevented him from teasing her any further, lest he should irritate the relative stranger with a display of immaturity.
Swiftly altering the direction of the conversation, the former soldier returned to his previous conversation with John, "You remarked on my courage, mais c'était un privilege to establish freedom for the United States. It is a wonderful country, and I am surprised that a lady as patriotic as Angelica could bear to leave." He raised an inquisitive brow, seeking some elaboration from the foreigners.
"It has caused me pain to be parted from my home," Angelica admitted. Before she could confess any more of her emotional conflict, she swiftly offered him a false assurance and a tight smile, "but I am comforted by seeing my friends who, as you say, are as good as family, particularly when you know what it is to be a stranger in a new country."
"Exactement." He sympathized wholeheartedly, solemnly lowering his head in respect. An idea seemed to suddenly strike the Marquis, as after scarcely a moment he looked up again, his usual excitement returning to brighten his features. "If Monsieur Church does not mind, peut-être que je peux introduce you to many more people who know what it is to be a welcome guest in France, other strangers to this land with whom you may find camaraderie in sharing your love of absent homelands?"
His hopeful grin did not offer John an opportunity to refuse, especially when it was so blatantly apparent that his wife found such amusement in conversing with the Frenchman. John nodded silently, before catching sight of someone he had yet to meet. Distracted, he wandered away from Angelica and Lafayette, leaving them to their own devices.
The Frenchman noticed the tiniest trace of uncertainty glittering in the gaze of his friend, and asserted confidently, "You will be surprised at how many people come to feel at home in France, and I am sure that once you meet them, you will learn to love this country too."
Angelica nodded despite her personal misgivings, and allowed him to guide her amongst the patches of people, clearly seeking out a few faces in particular. After barely a minute, he located one. He happened to be a man Angelica recognized from several portraits too, though he exuded more warmth and friendliness in the flesh than an oil canvas could ever give him credit for, hence her willingness to introduce herself, "Mister Franklin, my name is Angelica Church, a friend of the Marquis de Lafayette and an acquaintance of George Washington. I am honoured to meet you here."
Franklin nodded in greeting, beaming at her as if they were reunited companions rather than strangers who had just met, glancing to Lafayette briefly before replying, "You need not be honoured, but instead be comforted; after all, is that not the purpose of the Marquis bringing us together?" He shook Lafayette's hand, then Angelica's, as he observed, "This intelligent man has undoubtedly decided to show you how your fellow Americans share your longing to return home so as to enable you to feel connected with them. Well, it is a noble mission, so I can safely say that you have a friend in me, Mrs Church." He had an air of intelligence about him, fitting for a man made famous for his dangerous experiments, and Angelica decided almost immediately that she liked him.
"Thank you, Sir. And might I compliment your exceptionally astute observation," she added, impressed by the way he had so swiftly realized precisely what she had hoped to gain from their encounter. Being gifted with a talent for accurate perception when meeting new people herself, she was appreciative when others shared her ability.
"You might, though perhaps I would consider it to be undeserved flattery. And now, if you would excuse me, I had hoped to talk to my successor this evening, and I have just spotted him. Adieu, Mrs Church, au revoir, Marquis." As quickly as their enjoyable conversation had begun, it was brought to an abrupt end.
Turning to her escort, Angelica enquired, "Who is his successor?" Or more precisely, who may I hold responsible for stealing that pleasant gentleman away?
Lafayette glanced in the direction in which Benjamin Franklin had disappeared, failing to locate the figure who had taken his attention. So, unable to point him out, he instead described, "Il s'appelle Thomas Jefferson, and he succeeded Franklin as the ambassador to France. You must meet him at some point. For now, however," he looked beyond Angelica's shoulder, "I think that you have un ami coming to see you."
Angelica turned around in time to see another face she recognized, this time belonging to a woman, a friend made during her time in London. Incredulous, she greeted, "Mrs Cosway, what are you doing here?" She had been fairly close to Maria before she and her husband had left London - at the very least she knew her well enough that she realized it was not her ideal pastime to socialize in such formal circumstances.
Maria only shrugged nonchalantly and remarked with a rare degree of confidence for a woman greeting a pair of old but not overly close friends, "The same as you, I suspect: trying to entertain myself with pleasant company at this ball I was made to attend by my less than amiable husband."
There was a touch of bitterness in her voice as she made the scathing comment, however it was masked relatively well by her genuinely pleased smile. "And now that I have found you, and of course Gilbert, I believe I am to be successful."
Angelica chuckled, touch by the warm praise from the woman she knew possessed a fiery temper she hid well much like Angelica herself, and replied, "Likewise," fondly taking Mrs Cosway by the hand in a gesture of understanding.
Lowering her voice slightly, she enquired, "You sound less than delighted, Maria. Are you and Richard fighting again?" It should have been a private matter, but then, Maria Cosway had never been reserved when it came to marital arguments.
A definite shadow crossed her face, and her voice lowered to an embarrassed murmur as she excused herself, "I'd rather not discuss that at this time, my dear Angelica." She would not dare say anything aloud, but she glanced momentarily to Lafayette as if by way of explanation. Of course, she cannot discuss her husband's flaws in the presence of a gentleman who might encounter him this evening and let her confessions slip.
Also noticing the subtle action, the Marquis smiled and casually commented, "I do not think I should intrude on a reunion of old friends. Si vous me pardonnerez, mes beau femmes, au revoir," he bid them in his own language, reverting to it in preparation of speaking to more French attendees. With that, he drifted away amongst the crowd.
In privacy with the woman who she had decided in the past minute was worthy of becoming her most esteemed confidant, Maria became visibly exasperated as she lamented her marital problems, furtively revealing, "Fighting doesn't begin to explain my current relationship to my darling husband." Her voice dripped sarcasm, though Angelica was wise enough not to interrupt to point it out.
"He has decided that I must not continue to be a commissioned artist. He deems it an unworthy career with a sordid reputation whilst, might I add, he hypocritically continues his own career and conforms to the stereotypes he insists he is ending mine to prevent me from being tempted to experience." She rolled her eyes in frustration and confirmed, "Yes, I mean to say that I know he is being unfaithful to me."
Angelica's eyes widened in pity, and she squeezed her hand comfortingly as she commiserated, "Maria, I'm so sorry."
At the slightest hint of sympathy, the Italian painter waved away Angelica's sorrow, smiling as she placated, "There is no need to be miserable for me, especially when your own love life must occupy enough of your capacity for disappointment." It was a bold comment, but nonetheless true.
Angelica giggled conspiratorially as she admitted begrudgingly, "I'm afraid you are right. But at least I have my children to entertain me. I wonder where you find joy when you have none..."
It was not an accusation or even a direct question, but Maria decided to answer even so. Smirking mischievously, she confessed, "What makes you so sure I am confined solely to my husband? No, dear Angelica, don't worry about me; I admit, I have had some more interesting company to entertain me." Raising her voice to normal volume again suddenly, she continued, "Speaking of interesting, I've just spotted one Mr Jefferson. Have you made his acquaintance yet?"
Angelica shook her head, admitting, "We haven't spoken, though I have been abandoned in favour of him, something I might hold against him."
Maria laughed, assuring her, "In which case you must speak to him at once - I guarantee you will not be able to bear a grudge against him." Before her friend could protest, she had linked her arm through Angelica's and was pulling her towards a tall man in a fitted fuscia jacket. "I promise you'll like him, he's an American," Maria murmured, before calling out, "Thomas!"
He turned around to face them, immediately smiling fondly towards the woman he was already familiar with. And perhaps there is a glimmer of something slightly more than platonic there, Angelica noted as he bowed low before her artist companion, greeting her, "Maria, it is always a pleasure." Rising, he turned inquisitive his gaze on the newcomer. "And who is your friend?"
Angelica smiled at him, analytically recognizing intelligence in his brown eyes and a readiness to quarrel should the need arise in the set of his lips. At a glance, he reminded her of herself. Dipping into a courteous curtsey, she introduced herself, "My name is Angelica Schuyler Church. It's good to meet you, Sir."
"I'm inclined to say the same," he replied, taking her hand and lifting it to his lips, allowing his mouth to linger there as his eyes darted to hers, then to Mrs Cosway, and then back to Angelica. The former Schuyler could not explain why she felt a twinge of frustration at the realization that he was kissing her to tease her friend, but more than that, she couldn't begin to justify why she was suddenly swept up in her wish that he genuinely meant it when he allowed his deceptively soft lips to stroke her skin with such a tantalizing touch that for the briefest of seconds she felt the steady pulse of her heart falter...
A/N: I know this isn't the fastest chapter, it's just setting the scene for more juicy bits. Please stay tuned!