Chapter Text
Lafayette sat alone in the parlor, silence quickly invading the room. That had not been the goal of the conversation, and while Lafayette knew John better than that, he hoped Adrienne would discount his words on the premise of the amount Laurens likely had to drink tonight. He would try to talk to Alexander in the morning, perhaps convince him to persuade John to apologize, but for now, Lafayette headed upstairs and donned his cloak. There were other matters to attend to. McHenry hadn't even had the time to ask him, groggily, where on earth he was going at this hour before he was darting back down the stairs, as silently as possible, and out the door into the cold.
Practically drenched from dredging through the snow, Lafayette arrived at the portion of camp belonging to Horatio Gates, where many of the foreign officers were staying for the time being. He knocked on the door to one of the few entirely constructed log huts that were to be used for barracks. 'Of course, they'd be the first ones to construct one," he muttered to himself, shivering in the cold of the night outside the door. "I swear if they are somehow asleep already after I walked all the way out here," he grumbled, only for seconds later the door to be opened by the very man Lafayette came to see.
Colonel Tadeusz Kościuszko stood there in his sleep shirt with his hair down, and a pair of breeches haphazardly thrown on. His face scrunched into confusion at the sight of the freezing Marquis before him, "Marquis, ah. What are you doing all the way out here this late at night?" He gave him a once over before speaking again, "Jesus man, did you walk here too?" Lafayette's lack of response was more than enough to answer that question. The Colonel stepped aside, now shivering as well, "Come in, man, you'll freeze to death out here."
Lafayette stepped into the doorway to find that he was not far off in his grumblings; almost all of them were asleep already. There was one by the door, another across the hut from Thaddeus, and then the man himself that were awake. This wasn't ideal, but much better odds than he expected, so he would not complain. "Can I please have a word with you, Colonel? I apologize for the lack of advance warning," he said sincerely, removing the gloves from his hands but keeping the cloak on his person.
"Of course, sir, I would hate for you to catch pneumonia all just to be turned back out in camp. What can I help you with?" The Colonel spoke as he finished putting on his breeches, deciding to also throw on his officer's coat over the sleep shirt, seeing as Lafayette was still fully dressed.
"It's about Lady Fairfax. Adrienne, I mean."
Thaddeus froze, his arms stuck in the motions of shrugging on the coat, one thought and one thought only ran through his head, 'Oh shit.'
"I know. About," Lafayette hesitated, deciding what exactly he could call this, "Your situation." The Colonel opened his mouth in an attempt to deny or rebuke his statement, but Lafayette did not allow him to even begin, "I am going to help you."
Thaddeus was now even more confused, but his shock was evident, as clear as day, in his eyes as he spoke, "Sorry, but help me with what exactly?"
Lafayette sighed, "I know you are a smart man, and I know you know she is engaged to John Laurens. She told me earlier today about whatever it is exactly that you two are hoping to do, but that will not be possible without my help. I was hesitant to offer my assistance, but after what I saw tonight-" Lafayette cut off, letting out a sigh of exhaustion, "After what I saw tonight between Adrienne and John, I cannot, in good conscience, support him any longer. He does not have her best interests in mind, and you make her happy. So incredibly happy, whether you realize it or not. I want to help you for her."
Once the Marquis finished, Thaddeus stood there, staring at him for a short period, absorbing all he had just been told. Finally, he sighed, running a hand through his loose curls, "Okay. Okay, I was avoiding any attempts to advance on her out of respect for John, but if what you say is true. Well, frankly, if it's a truth as horrid as I think it is, I honestly might end up in a duel with him. But as far as things go now, if this is what she wants and if I make her happy? Then who am I to oppose the will of a strong-minded woman."
Lafayette laughed at this assessment of Adrienne's character, "As far as any duel goes, you might have to take a number, sir. And yes, I am afraid that may be the only thing John and Ms. Fairfax have in common, which is inherently the source of their disagreement."
"No, they look alike too."
The next morning as he was making his way down the last flight of stairs, the last thing Colonel Hamilton was expecting was to be cornered by Lafayette on an empty foyer atop the stairs. Hamilton does have to admit that this feat of isolation showcases quite a hefty amount of talent for the Marquis, as time alone was undoubtedly a challenge to get in the Potts house, even when one is actively seeking it out. The Marquis' impressive feat did not have him stunned for long, being more concerned with the fact Hamilton was cornered by him.
"What on earth are you doing? I have to get to work. Have you seen the translation pile on my desk?"
"And they can wait a few more minutes; if it takes any longer, then that will not be because of me, but because of your stubborn nature."
Hamilton huffed, "Fine, what is it that you want from me?"
Lafayette smiles, taking a step back from him, studying directly in front of the stairs, "Talk to John."
Hamilton furrowed his brow, "Motier, I hate to break it to you, but I do that every day. You are going to have to be more specific. What am I supposed to speak with him about?"
"Adrienne," Hamilton snorted, but Lafayette continued, "I need you to talk him into his senses."
"Motier, I hate to break it to you, but I am also not the person to try to tell him anything about Ms. Fairfax. Why can you not do it?"
The Marquis sighed, "Because he will not listen to me. In his eyes, I am too biased. John needs to come to his senses and quick, you are the best man for the job, Hamilton."
Colonel Hamilton sighed, "What has he done now that has offended her high-born Virginian sensitivities? Forgotten to kiss her hand?"
"No, he decided that last night he was going to yell at her, accuse her of invalidating her honor with no basis to support such a claim, and if I had not stopped him, John likely would have raised his hand to her."
Hamilton blinked back at him, leaning into Lafayette, "Sorry, say that one more time?"
"You heard me correctly the first time. John needs to apologize to her before she brings this to George, and life becomes tough for all of us," he paused, "Well, more than it already is."
Hamilton sighed, "Next time I get the chance, I'm going to shoot John in the foot." He rubbed his temples, "Yes, I will talk to him; George does not need the stress right now."
"Thank you, Colonel," Lafayette stepped away from the staircase, allowing Hamilton to pass him and return to his translations.
Once the day had begun, Lafayette found himself in organizational meetings, probably as payback from Hamilton. He had not had the chance to see Adrienne yet. John has not been seen since breakfast, so he was crossing his fingers that they were together. And that neither of them was dead or fatally maimed. He could not do much more than speculate till later that night. He needed to make sure that Stuben and his staff were on the 'okay for Adrienne to talk to' list before dinner. The more he thought about that, the more he understood why Adrienne was so upset about it. John was smart, he had to admit. John also knew entirely what he was doing when he asked George. He wanted to keep tabs on Adrienne, and Lafayette hoped that it would be because he wanted a reason to break off their horrible arrangement. That was far less terrifying than the other prospect. The second possibility was that Henry Laurens was pushing his son to tie a knot that was starting to look more and more like a noose. If Adrienne got married to John, it would all be over, she could not go behind his back, and Thaddeus indeed respects him too much to even entertain it. And so, Lafayette had decided last night he would help her try to get her happiness, but if the unbreakable will of Henry Laurens persevered, he was going to have a safety net in place first. So, when the Marquis found a free moment in his day, he picked up a pen and wrote a letter to someone he had barely communicated with in the past year for advice.
The letter was sent out with his mail, and the Marquis hoped that he would receive a response. His worrying was cut short as John entered the hall, heading towards the office of Washington's aides. Lafayette jumped up from his seat, calling after John as he walked down the hall. The man stopped and turned to face him, "Ah, Motier, how can I help you?"
"I simply wanted to check-in with you. Adrienne and I were invited to dine tonight with Baron Von Stuben and his staff. I know you felt quite," he paused for the right word, "Passionate about certain officers, and goodness knows you two do not need reason for more conflict."
John relaxed, releasing tension from his shoulders and neck Lafayette had failed to notice. "Yes. Of course, that is perfectly acceptable." humor glistened in his eyes for a brief moment, "Just as long as she keeps all her clothes on." Laurens hesitated at the second part of the Marquis' statement but continued on, "And please, allow me to apologize for last night. I honestly had been avoiding you all day in fear of another unpleasant conversation."
Lafayette exhaled, "Well, I do not think I am the one who is owed an apology, but I will accept it nevertheless. I only wish you would realize you must start showing her more courtesy and affection if your intentions are what I think they are. Keep in mind, she had even less of a say in this match than you did."
When he was finally allowed to speak, John nodded, "I agree, I have been rather frustrated with my father recently, and I took it out on her improperly. I will give her an apology. And as far as my intentions, well, they are not exactly mine, but rather my father's. He claims I have delayed it far beyond what is reasonable. He fails to realize Ms. Fairfax is five years my younger, having only a mere 18 years."
"Good lord, please do not remind me that you are old," John opened his mouth to protest, false offense taking place on his facial features, "You are three years my senior, John." He teased John, "You're reaching old-age far too quickly."
"I will have you know I am at a normal age for a young man. It's barely been a month since you yourself have not been a teenager," John rebuked him, "Actually, there's less of an age gap between the two of you compared to anyone else in camp."
"Well, if you do not intend on consummating the marriage until she reaches a certain age, then perhaps you should not marry till that age. yes?"
Laurens laughed like it was some sort of joke, putting his hand on the Marquis' arm, "My friend, if it was that easy to convince Henry Laurens, it would have been done already"
Weeks flew by, Adrienne spent more time with the tolerable patriot partons in Philadelphia. Headquarters was swamped by the rise of the snow, the bitter weather calling for more huts to be built, and more desertion than George would ever admit to. And so, things continued at this pace. The men would open their personal letters over the small breakfast table, often sharing their contents with the officers around them, and Lafayette would listen politely as he attended to official army correspondence. That is until this morning, the Marquis De Lafayette now held, the letter before him in his hands, as reverently as he would a bible.
Hands trembling, he slid the letter opener under the familiar seal. He scanned the letter the first time as slow as possible, drinking in each word, observing the familiar curve of the letters, running his thumb over the words imprinted into the paper, soaking up every phrase. He continued like this the second time, and the third as well, and by the fourth time, he had fully absorbed the letter's contents. Lafayette stood abruptly, rushing out of the room. The eyes of a few of the aides followed him; this sudden outburst contradicted everything they knew about the young Marquis, curiosity prying behind their gaze.
He had not expected her to answer him. When he wrote the letter, it was a long shot at best for her to even accept it, let alone read it. Lafayette rushed directly into George's office; usually, there was little the General asked for personally, and the request that he was not interrupted during breakfast was one of them. So, the intrusion caused the man's gaze to rest on him immediately. "Dear Motier, it is still breakfast hours. What is so urgent that it demands my attention during such time." George was trying his best to be polite, clearly seeing how shaken his boy was, his fingers clutching a letter so tightly, he wondered if he would have to pry it from them. He stood, cautiously approaching the pale young man as if he were a vicious predator who could attack George at any moment. "My boy, what is wrong?" George asked softly, reaching out for the hand without the letter in it. To the General's great surprise, the boy extended the paper out to him. However, the death grip did not release until George put his other hand on the boy's opposing shoulder. "Do you wanna tell me what this is? Or should I just read it?"
Finally, George's heart eased when the boy spoke, "I did not think it would even be accepted, but she responded to me. I just received it this morning."
George knew instantly, the cause that shook the man who was just yesterday a teenage boy, was his wife, the Marquise de Lafayette. Adrienne Noailles had written her husband his first letter since he left France a year and a half ago. Rather than giving a verbal reply, George stepped forwards, moving the younger man's slight frame into a hug. The close contact of it allowed George to feel the boy's ramrod-straight posture fade, the tension melting away. Physical contact had always been the best medicine for his boy, soothing him when nothing else would. When he finally pulled away, Lafayette looked at him expectantly, and he raised a brow, "You would like me to read it?"
"Yes," the boy nodded, "I need advice; I do not know what to do."
Rather than question what exactly that meant, George lifted the letter in his hand and made to read it. He paused, shortly after, looking from the words on the message to the Marquis once or twice before raising his concern, "Motier, this is in French."
Lafayette's cheeks flushed pink. He reached a hand back out for the letter, "My apologies, I suppose in my shock, it slipped my mind."
George handed the message back to him, and the boy began to read, the General's heart swelling with pride when the young man stopped only twice to ask for a translation to English. George understood now why the boy had panicked, and it warmed his heart that he would come to the General as a source of advice for domestic life. The letter clearly stated that the Marquise de Lafayette would, indeed, be joining her husband in Pennsylvania for a collection of the remaining months of winter encampment and would be bringing along with their two daughters. "I know I did not clear such a request with you, sir, but it was written upon impulse," Lafayette said once he had finished his reading of the letter. "They are to arrive from downriver tomorrow, and there is hardly anywhere in the house for the three of them to stay."
George sighed, returning to his breakfast as he spoke, now sitting in the chair behind his desk. "You will need to make arrangements for the four of you if she is truly intending on staying with us for such a period," George continued nonchalantly, "There are quite a few furnished but abandoned homes around the valley. I will call for Doctor Rush to assist you in such endeavors today."
Lafayette paused, unsure of staying away from camp, "I assure you, sir, that I still intend on returning to camp for my duties, of which I have many. Especially today."
George hummed in agreeance, "Yes, you should try to take at least five days of the week to be here for parts of the day in the upcoming months, but for, transfer your work to Lieutenant Colonel Laurens. As I hear, he has an unusually light workload today." He picked up his quill, penning a letter to Benjamin Rush, then called for Billy to have it delivered to his estate with the morning express. "I will personally alert you once a reply is received, Motier. There is no further need to stress over the situation."
The Marquis released a breath he had no idea he was holding, "Thank you, George," was all he said, but the sheer amount of gratitude displayed in his face was more than enough. He then gave a slight bow to the General and exited the room, letter in hand. Breakfast now lay forgotten and cold on the table as the Marquis climbed the stairs and gathered his things for the day, preparing to move it all from the shared room he occupied at the Potts house.
It was not long before Doctor Rush responded, the letter coming to Washington during a meeting. In turn, Billy passed him a note stating that the doctor would be arriving in just a few minutes shy of eleven. As the carriage carrying Benjamin Rush pulled up the path to headquarters, Lafayette wasted no time in collecting his things for the day and making down the stairs and out the door to greet him. The two men wasted no time, the lanky youth climbed into the carriage, and it immediately set off to the first estate they were to visit that day.
In total, they visited approximately five of the surrounding estates that were looking to be financed, each one better and more refined than the last. Lafayette knew he would not be capable of mirroring the great halls of Versailles, of which his wife was most accustomed to, without starting from the ground up, but finally, he found the perfect match. It had been the summer home of the Royal Governor of the state, and its design, furniture, fountain, and grounds were the best of the region, designed to the fancies of the man's wife. Lafayette paid Doctor Rush the sum he would need to deliver to a delegate of the Continental Congress, the new owners of the house. His wife, his beautiful Adrienne, was no mistress of frugality and had used a ship from her father's naval command to travel to the colony, bringing with her the preferred house staff, so he did not attempt to hire new ones.
He returned to camp at nightfall, full of jitters and nerves. The General admonished his fears, doing the best he could to soothe the boy. Mrs. Washington even went as far as to invite him to dine privately with George and herself for the night. In turn, he asked the two of them to join him and his wife the following evening. The Marquis slept that night, much better than he would have thought possible, oblivious to the world.
George had never seen Lafayette so anxious before. Whoever the girl he married was, she certainly had quite an impact on him. George managed most of the day free for the boy, only having to return late in the evening for a meeting when the Marquis could return to the newly purchased home with the Washingtons in tow. "Stop that. It is unbecoming," he admonished, watching his boy wear a hole in the floor from all his pacing. "You are making even I anxious at this rate, come, sit down, have a drink," George continued, motioning to the decanter of whiskey in the corner.
The boy shook his head, "Non, she does not find myself indulging in a drink becoming." It was clear as day to anyone who looked that he wanted her to like him so badly. Honestly, George was not at all surprised that he would accept such a statement from his wife. Little did he know, Adrienne Noailles sat restlessly in the carriage, clutching her two daughters to ease her own anxiety.
Looking out the window, Adrienne marveled at the amount of countryside these colonies had; she had never so much empty space in her life. This is what her husband's home must look like; the quaint country estate of Chavaniac differed very much from her far more lavish upbringing. It is no wonder he was attracted to the colonies. What startled her the most was the realization that they were no longer on even a dirt road; in her musings, she missed it as they turned off, the loud sounds in the distance bringing her back to her senses. Deciding not to wake Virginie or Anastasiefor their arrival at the camp, they would only be picking up the Marquis and heading for the house after all.
Adrienne had no idea what she was expecting of a military camp, having never seen a real one in her life, but this was not it. The carriage stopped outside of an incredibly small stone house, and she felt her heart rate pick up. She had argued with her father over visiting her husband after the letter she received. The last he wrote her, he had been shot, and she could not stay in France for one-second longer after reading that letter. It was the first real letter she had received in a year and a half from him.
Her heart had stopped when reading the letter, he had written to her saying that 'there was an ongoing issue that could prove fatal in some time.' She knew he did not want to say it in the letter, but she understood well enough to read between the lines, and immediately the thought of her husband dying in some foreign country without a comforting hand had torn her to shreds. When the Marquis climbed through the door, still lanky but far more solid than she remembered him to be, Adrienne almost started crying. It was okay. He was okay. He was okay, and it was all going to be okay. 'Thank you, God, for hearing my prayers,' she thought, sending a glance at the sky above the carriage as it pulled away from the camp.
Her husband was still jittery, that much she noticed by his bouncing knee. She also noticed that he was far more confident in himself. He fit better in the Continental uniform than any of the finely tailored suits he had back in France. He was changed, that much was obvious, but she could not care less. All that mattered to her was that he was okay. He was okay and with her once again, right where he belonged.
The remainder of the trip was present in silence; the two little girls woke up just before they entered the gates of the estate her husband had purchased. They knew better than to bother their father, especially while gaze was pointedly trained solely out the window, even as they pulled in front of the house. The staff had headed straight for the house and arrived an hour before them, and the footman opened the door of the carriage, allowing the two little girls, desperate with curiosity, to run towards the house. Next out was the Marquis, followed shortly after by the Marquise.
She trailed behind him, watching as he made his way up to the doors. The girls' giggling could be heard from inside, and for a moment, she thought, 'Maybe, he'll be happier his way. If we stay like this forever, maybe he'll be happy. And maybe, if he's happy, he'll stay.' And she wanted to believe it was true. She wanted to believe it so badly. She wanted to make it true, to make it possible for him to settle down with her and be happy with such a life, but he never would. This was his home, these colonies, and it was clear that no matter how hard she tried, she never would be.
Adrienne needed a moment alone to collect herself. She feared that if she were to do so much as look at him, she would burst into tears. He deserved better than this; he deserved someone stronger than her, but she loved him, and so Adrienne would continue to pretend she was strong enough to be worthy of him. So she climbed the stairs, closing the door to the master bedroom just before the tears began to fall.
Her hand lingered on the door for a brief moment before she turned and leaned against it, wrapping her arms around herself as she cried. The tears were a mix of everything she was feeling, relief, joy, sadness, exhaustion, and love, with all of those emotions focused on the man she left downstairs, the man who left her for colonies. It felt like every time she tried, and she tried so hard, he took two steps back. Every action was equivalent to shooting herself directly in the foot, but he had called for her, had he not? In the letter, he begged her, if she had it in her, to forgive him and come to him in Pennsylvania. So then why did Adrienne feel like she was the one inconveniencing him, like her presence was an obstacle for him to overcome? She was tired of feeling lonely while surrounded by people.
Adrienne moved to the chaise couch that rested at the foot of the bed, sat there, and leaned against the back as she cried. It came to her as no surprise when her imagination began to sound more and more like her husband. The voice called her name, asking her what the matter was in a tone so soft it caused more tears to flow down her cheeks. It was not until she was pulled into lightly-toned arms that she realized the voice was not her imagination.
Lafayette had not noticed his wife climb the stairs; he was distracted by the two beautiful and vibrantly young blondes, his daughters. But nevertheless, he noticed quickly that she was not on the first floor. A member of the staff suggested that perhaps she was tired from travel, so the Marquis made his way up the stairs to thank her for coming all this way with the girls, assuming she was still awake. What he did not expect, however, was to find his wife, his Adrienne, sitting at the foot of the bed with tears freely rolling down her face.
Concern was instantly alight in all his features; he closed the door behind him to give her more privacy from the prying ears of the house. Walking towards her, he called her name to alert her of his presence, even asking what was wrong, but received no reply. His heart ached at the sight of his wife in misery, but he did not know what he could do to alleviate her sadness, so he simply did what always has helped him. Sitting down beside Adrienne, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest, and just held her there, not saying a word as she cried onto his shoulder.
He did not care when her tears soaked through his officer's coat, nor if her powder and rouge would leave residue upon it. The only thing he cared about in this moment was the woman in his arms. They stayed like this for some time, the sound of her sobs filling the room. He wished she would say something, speak to him, tell him what's wrong, and he would move heaven and earth to make it right for her, but when she finally did, he wished he had not.
Adrienne breathed in sharply and sobbed into his chest, her tone full of emotion and relief, "You're here."
His heart shattered on impact. Tears began to prickle in Lafayette's eyes too. He responded the only way that he could, by holding her tighter and whispering reassurances to her, "I'm here."