Robert Morris is a fascinating individual, so too le Conciliateur and John Brown, all mentioned in this chapter. The brief excerpt from the speech before Congress given by Robert is part of the original, historical document. Cheers!
June, 1783
The tepid breeze was as nothing to combat the heat of the day. It was barely energetic enough to crawl its way through the open windows of his office and ruffle the edges of scattered papers on his desk. He'd forgone the powder today, ignored the concept of a wig, and stood with fingers twitching to scratch across his scalp and relieve the tension the conversation had brought him. The young lawyer he'd sent to speak to le Conciliateur in Louisiana, Mr. John Brown, was just finishing his report and Robert Morris felt both relief at the success of the past report and a burgeoning ill-ease. Now that the official business was concluding, there was the "other matter" Mr. Brown had alluded to needing to discuss.
"As for the other matter," Robert clicked his tongue against his teeth when Mr. Brown moved directly into the vein of discourse he'd expected next, "well, sir, I did not just bring these papers of confirmation back from le Conciliateur. There is no delicate way of putting it-"
Robert snorted, turning away from the open window and its disappointing attempt at fresh air, and stared at the young man with fatigued amusement. "One does not rise from bastardry to become the Superintendent of Finance and Agent of Marine to our fought-for nation by quivering every time something indelicate it stated. Just have it out, Mr. Brown. Leave my sensibilities to my one conscience."
The lawyer shifted against the embroidered cushion on his chair, obviously still fighting his own sense of propriety in order to finish the report of the "other matter." Robert inwardly sighed, choosing to steeple his fingers across his belly as he waited. As a master of law, Mr. Brown preferred to use precise language and though it could be vexing, Robert appreciated the attention to detail.
"Your brother, sir," Mr. Brown, once he found his tongue, spoke with such alacrity that Robert could barely restrain himself from tipping his head back at the verbal onslaught of information, "Mr. Thomas Morris, while he had one official wife and fathered Mr. Dennis Morris, whom you are now supporting, he had at least one confirmed mistress. They met during his assignment in Nice. She was a popular entertainer for the opera houses there and a sought-after companion for the region's elites. She was known for her wit and beauty and was often called the 'Angélique Ambrée.' Her father was a Corsican merchant and her mother of mixed origins, with the only reported one of certainty that of Basque. Their affair produced a daughter. The young girl was born months after your brother died five years ago, and only now that the poor mother has passed on did her family convey the child to your associates in Nice. Through them, le Conciliateur came to know of the matter and gave me these papers." Mr. Brown pulled a bounded set of papers from his leather satchel and stood long enough to pass the bundle across Robert's massive desk. "The man assured me he checked into the matter himself as a personal favor to you, and he believes the claim is genuine, though he wanted to give you the evidence for your own perusal before you decide."
"Decide?" Robert parroted the question back, his eyes already scanning over the top paper, immediately recognizing the arrogant scrawl of his late brother.
"The girl is with le Conciliateur now, sir. She came over a few weeks past and has been living with him and his family at his estate. He wrote a detailed account of her demeanor, education, and the like, and included them with the other papers. He felt it necessary for you to know such things if you decided to absorb the girl into your own household."
Mr. Brown again looked uncomfortable. Robert couldn't blame him. His half-brother had been a well-known, first-class carouser this side of the Atlantic until Robert had sent him to Europe, hoping the assignment as representative of their familial interests would build up a sense of responsibility in Thomas. A charming man gifted for languages and society, Thomas had all the makings of a successful businessman, perhaps even a diplomat. But Robert's confidence in Thomas had been ill-spent. Thomas ceased answering letters or sending reports, and what reports Robert received detailed Thomas's increasing line of credit and a life of such hedonism that his very presence in France was injuring the Morris reputation and endangering Robert's efforts to support the newly established Congress. Even as Robert pleaded for Thomas to return to his side, hopeful that a stint with General Washington's forces could shape Thomas into the man Robert believed he could be, he also apologized publically to Congress, requesting the official dismissal of Thomas from his position.
"My distress is more than I can describe; to think that in the midst of the most ardent exertions I was capable of making to promote the interest and welfare of my country, I should be the means of introducing a worthless wretch to disgrace and discredit it is too much to bear."
Robert still remembered the hushed silence of the assembly room as he'd finished reading his apology aloud. His fingers tracing over the inked papers, Robert sighed. By all "polite" rights, Robert had never needed to support Thomas. A half-brother, a bastard like Robert had been. But Robert remembered well his origins and had been of a means to better set up his brother for success than what Robert had had all those years ago. And now there was a child unaccounted for, a young girl, whom the fates had sent across the sea to test him. Would he still be so magnanimous?
Clearing his throat, Robert returned his gaze to the lawyer and nodded. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Mr. Brown. You are dismissed from bearing this matter further. I will proceed directly with le Conciliateur from now on."
"Thank you, Mr. Morris." The lawyer made to stand but hesitated, obviously wanting to say something more. Robert tilted his head to the side, curious and surprisingly patient. "I briefly met the girl, sir."
"Oh?" Robert leaned his head against the back of his chair as he again waited for Mr. Brown to get to the heart of why he was sharing this information.
"Yes, Mr. Morris. She was playing with le Conciliateur's children when I first arrived. Even from afar, I could see the likeness of your brother, Mr. Thomas, sir. There was no mistaking that familial resemblance," Robert swallowed his own laugh as Mr. Brown continued, already pitying the child if she truly bore all the Morris features, "though, she also maintains the image of her late mother, her curly hair, a dark chestnut, skin olive in complexion, and her upturned eyes a honeyed brown. Her mother or grandparents did her credit, sir, for she spoke fluent French and slipped into English well enough when she was introduced to me. And it seems she either does not understand her situation or has a stronger constitution than most her age, for she bore herself without the tender fear we often see exhibited in children when presented to strangers."
Robert raised his eyebrows. "It sounds as if you were quite taken with the girl yourself, Mr. Brown."
"I know it is not my business, Mr. Morris, and I would rarely presume to tell a man what he should do; however, in this case," Mr. Brown straightened his spine and stood at full attention, "I believe it would be a tragedy to allow a girl with such esprit to pass into impecunious obscurity."
Robert placed the bundle on the desk and joined Mr. Brown in standing. "Thank you for your insight, Mr. Brown. I will take it into consideration as I ponder the matter further." He gestured toward the heavy door that led back into the atrium. "Mr. Withers will see to your transport back to your lodgings, but please take a respite on the terrace while you wait. Mrs. Withers will bring you some refreshments."
After Mr. Brown left and Robert was once more seated behind his desk, he let out the breath he'd been holding. He foolishly attempted to see to more official matters, but the attempt lasted only a few moments before Robert's fingers reached for the bundle of papers. The collected letters exchanged between Thomas and Louisa, the 'Angélique Ambrée,' reminded Robert of many of the precocious qualities he'd loved in his brother, even as Robert had chastised Thomas for them. And based on the letters alone, Robert could well understand why his brother would have given himself over so completely to the passionate affair, for Louisa was clever and enchanting in her expressions.
The hour grew late, and Mrs. Withers came and went with his afternoon tea without Robert noticing, his mind wrapped up in lives now gone. Le Conciliateur's report on the young girl, Ellen Louisa, was detailed and obviously written with a bias. It seemed he, too, was already convinced that not only was the girl legitimately Thomas' child but also that she had a right to be raised with dignity and official recognition. Based on the report and what he knew of his old friend, Robert wouldn't have been surprised that, should he choose to reject the young girl, the former governor of Louisiana would seek to keep her for his own.
Robert sighed. He would discuss the matter further with Mary. Perhaps she would favor having another young girl about the house to play with Hester and Maria. Their five brothers outnumbered the poor girls. And it seemed the same desire he'd had to provide for his half-brother, and to secure the man's success in the world, extended to both legitimate and illegitimate children. While Robert supported Dennis and his mother from afar, the pair content to live elsewhere, Ellen Louisa was different. Or could be different. His lips pulling back into a smile, Robert rose from his desk and passed through to the atrium, intent on finding his wife.