George had been kind enough to open his home at Mount Vernon to us for a little celebration. It was a gorgeous summer day, not too hot, but just hot enough to make the gleaming water of the Potomac look almost too inviting to pass up. I was helping set places at the large table that had been moved outside when I saw Nathan come walking up, looking as casual as could be… though his usually-fluffy hair was soaking wet.
“You went swimming, didn’t you?” I accused him. He gave me a sheepish grin and shrugged.
“It’s a perfect day for it!” He replied. “I’m surprised I didn’t see you down there, honestly. The water feels great.” He walked over to me and took the stack of plates from my hands without asking, and we continued doing my job together.
“You know this is supposed to be a garden party, not a bunch of neighborhood children tossing each other into the river…” I said. “Thomas is bringing the wine, Lafayette was good enough to commission a cake, and George—”
“What about George?” The man himself asked as he crossed the yard toward us. He held in his hands a dish of… something I’d never seen before.
“What do you have there, sir?” Nathan wondered.
“Just some ice cream. A favorite of mine,” George said evasively. He was trying to hide his excitement about it, judging from the gleam in his eyes. He turned to me, holding out a spoon. “Care to try some?”
I had no idea how he was able to get the ice needed to make this. It must be quite a luxury. I took a small bite from the bowl he held for me. The flavor of it coated my tongue, a wonderful contrast to the sun beating down on the top of my head.
“It’s so cold!” I laughed. “It’s wonderful.”
“Then perhaps I should have some made more often for you,” he said warmly. I reached for a second bite, but sensed his reluctance in how he was trying to pull the bowl back to himself.
“Perhaps… you would like your own?” He offered, reaching to take the spoon back from me.
He didn’t want to share his ice cream. He was trying so hard not to act like a child with a favorite toy… it was endearing.
“I would!” Nathan said excitedly. George started a little, as though he’d forgotten Nathan was there.
“Oh,” he said, clearing his throat. “I suppose you can have some too, Mr. Hale. I did have enough made for everyone.”
When we came out with more ice cream (and Tipsy and Drunkard, who were hoping for a handout), I was happy to see that more people had arrived. A very grand cake had been set up on the table, and Lafayette was doing his best to make sure it was centered. He looked up when he saw us, and beamed.
“Lafayette, you’ve outdone yourself!” George said happily. “It’s enormous!”
“I spared no expense,” Lafayette replied humbly. “It is a wonderful idea to hold this celebration, to commemorate America’s declaration of freedom from the tyranny of Great Britain.” He caught my eye, and his smile warmed even more. “…and also to remind us of why it is we fight this war… so that those we care for will soon live in a new nation.”
I smiled back at him. He always spoke with such dedication.
“How eloquent, Lafayette,” I praised him. “I didn’t know you were just as good a baker as you were a speaker.”
“Baker? Me?” Lafayette laughed. “Oh no, mademoiselle. As much as I would like to claim credit for this cake, I left it to the professionals.”
“I think that was a wise decision, monsieur,” Thomas said from the end of the table. I blinked in surprise. When did he get here?
“How did you get here?” Nathan asked in shock, voicing my thoughts.
“I walked?” He looked at us quizzically before continuing to set up bottles near the glasses.
“Oh, let me help you with those!” I said, walking over. There were a lot of bottles… cider, champagne, whiskey, some port and madeira… I picked up a bottle to examine the label.
“I’ve got it, thank you,” Thomas said, plucking the bottle from my hands. “…They might be dusty. You could get your hands dirty.” He avoided my eyes as he set the bottles in neat rows.
I stepped back as he requested, but someone else stepped forward.
“I recognize this label!” Alexander laughed. “I used to deal with cases of these when I ran a trading charter. Never got to taste any of it, unfortunately.” He set the bottle he held back down. “Jefferson, my good man, you seem to be a man of taste! I never knew!”
“You must have been too busy talking to notice,” Thomas quipped back.
“That does sound like something I would do.” Alexander waggled his eyebrows at me, and I stifled a laugh. “Care for a little champagne, my lady? Of course you do.” He picked up a champagne bottle, grinning. “I’ll pour you a glass too, Jefferson. Maybe liquor loosens you up!”
Unfortunately, the champagne had been jostled on its way down the hill from the house, and when Alexander opened it, it streamed out of the bottle… and a good deal of it landed directly on Thomas.
“Mon dieu…” Lafayette winced.
Thomas stiffened in horror, looking from his coat to an apologetic Alexander.
“Would you believe I didn’t mean to?” He asked.
Thomas glared at him, and I was about to try and intervene, when Paul materialized between them. I hadn’t even seen him approach!
“Hamilton, you rascal,” he teased. “Did no one ever teach you how to properly open one of those?”
“…I was busy,” Alexander mumbled.
“And Jefferson, it’ll wash out. Don’t worry so much.”
“I worry just enough, thank you,” Thomas sighed. Still, the embarrassment was gone from his face.
“Good man, that’s better,” Paul declared. He waved to me. “Ah, there you are. The party’s complete. I took the liberty of inviting a few friends of mine.” He gestured to where a few men were setting up musical instruments.
“I think music might be just the thing this party needs, Mr. Revere,” George nodded in approval. Paul shot the band a thumbs-up, and they began to play.
Meanwhile, I took a wet handkerchief and walked over to Thomas.
“May I help you get some of that champagne off your coat?” I asked.
He looked at me, then took the handkerchief from my hands.
“I’ll do it,” he said, brushing down his coat. “But… thank you for thinking of me.”
“Of course,” I replied. I pretended not to notice that he was blushing.
“What song is this?” George wondered as he got another bowl of ice cream. “Isn’t it ‘To Anacreon In Heaven’?”
“The melody, anyway!” Nathan laughed as he clapped to the music.
“This poet Key wrote new words for it,” Paul explained. “Catchy, don’t you think?” He held out a hand to me, grinning. “Maybe a song for dancing after this?”
I took his hand and let him lead me further into the party. The sun was just beginning to set, our shadows lengthening as we enjoyed the weather, each other’s company, and the promise of a bright future for our new nation.
[Happy Independence Day! Mod Agas drew this lovely picture and Mod Lapis was inspired to write about it!]
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I came across a historical fiction writer’s blog, where she mentioned that Hamilton had asked his wife-to-be whether he should wear his uniform to their wedding, or if he should wear normal clothes.
For some reason it just translated into something like this in my head.
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[This is a response to our 4th of July picture/story (which you can see here)! Featuring Team England!]
It was far too hot outside to do much of anything. Even the sky looked to be baking from the harsh sun, from what I could see of it when it wasn’t obscured by fluttering curtains. Several windows in Headquarters was open to provide a cross-breeze, which I think was the only reason we were all still alive. I was trying to concentrate on the book I held, but the words kept swimming together in front of my eyes. Perhaps they were melting off the page. My eyes were getting so heavy. I felt my head nod once, twice, then…
“Can you not?” Joseph frowned, giving me a nudge. I’d come to rest against his shoulder, apparently, and I realized the book had fallen from my hands and come to rest on the rug.
“Sorry,” I mumbled. “Just got a little sleepy, I guess.”
“I couldn’t tell,” he quipped, picking up my book and rapping it against my knees until I stood up. “Go get yourself some tea or something. I’m not here to be your pillow.”
“I had no idea,” I rolled my eyes. “Do you want anything?”
He glanced up at me as he found a bookmark to hold my place in the book. “Just some water. Thanks.”
“Is the little yankee getting us refreshments?” Charles looked up from the report he was reading. “I’ll have some tea with cream and sugar. Lots of cream. And two and a half cubes of sugar.”
“Good God, man, is it even considered tea by that point?” Mariot looked up from where he was playing cards with Benedict.
“Do remember who it is you’re addressing, Admiral,” Charles said coolly. His haughty demeanor took on a mischievous aspect, however, when he added. “Wouldn’t you like to give our little miss your order for tea?” I didn’t realize he’d gotten up from his perch on the corner of William’s desk until I felt him grip my shoulders and shuttle me towards the card table.
Mariot faltered, and I could clearly see the stain of a blush beneath the dark tan of his face.
“H’a h’m.” he cleared his throat nervously, then looked back to his cards. “Erm. Just plain tea will suffice, ma’am.”
“You’ll have to forgive the sea dog’s ineptitude towards women,” Charles said airily. He winked at me. “He’s especially vulnerable towards the pretty ones.”
“With all due respect, Your Lordship,” Benedict said quietly, taking the pipe from his mouth, “You’re unnecessarily compromising my opponent, and I don’t wish to win this game by a technicality.”
“You were losing anyway, Mr. Arnold,” Mariot muttered sheepishly.
“Can I get you anything from the kitchen while I’m up, Benedict?” I asked. He looked at me, frowning.
“No,” he said shortly.
“Charming as ever, Mr. Arnold,” Charles sniffed. He turned me around to face him again. “And coffee for the general, pet. Black like his soul. And see if you can scrounge up anything to eat with that.”
“I wasn’t aware I was your maid,” I folded my arms and frowned up at him. He only grinned wider.
“You’re cute when you’re angry,” he said. “Go on, off you pop. I’m thirsty.”
I sighed, then reluctantly left the parlor, making my way to the kitchen.
The kettle was boiling, and I was assembling a few scones on a plate, when I heard someone entering the kitchen. I looked up, and was surprised to see who it was.
“The card game’s over, I take it?” I asked Benedict. He nodded, then wordlessly came over to the shelf next to me and got down a few more cups. He was… helping?
“You shouldn’t let Cornwallis boss you around like this,” he said. “People like him… once they know they can walk all over you, they’ll never stop.”
I busied myself with making William’s coffee. I knew Benedict well enough by now to know that he didn’t like to be the center of attention, so I tried not to make a big deal out of him being supportive.
“Thank you,” I said. “I’ll keep that in mind for the future.”
“See that you do,” he nodded. He took one tray, and I the other, and we made our way back to the parlor.
“What’s all this?” William looked up suddenly when I set his coffee cup down beside the letter he was writing.
“I just wanted to bring some refreshments,” I said. “Didn’t you hear the conversation earlier?”
“I… suppose I didn’t,” he said sheepishly. “I tend to get so focused on my work I lose track of everything else going on around me.” He looked down at his cup, and his tired face broke into a handsome smile. “Coffee instead of tea… I can’t believe you remembered.”
“My my, how thoughtful,” Charles spoke up. “Seems our little miss has taken a liking to you, General.”
I looked incredulously at him. Why was he playing along? He was the one who told me to get coffee! He didn’t seem to care as he took his own cup, which had so much cream in it I could scarcely see any tea.
“Ah, perfect,” he sighed. “Good girl.”
“She’s not your dog,” Joseph frowned as he came up to get his own cup. “Didn’t realize a simple glass of water would cause so much trouble.” He took the tray from me and set it down on a table. “Stop standing at attention like a maid.”
“Perhaps the two of you would be interested in playing whist instead?” Mariot offered as he expertly shuffled the cards. “It requires four players.”
“I haven’t played whist in a long time,” I confessed as I walked over to the table. The cool breeze from the window was like a godsend as I neared. It was clear that the card table was probably one of the most refreshing places in the house from a temperature standpoint.
“...but I suppose I can be coerced into playing,” I decided as I sat down. Joseph reluctantly took the seat opposite Benedict.
“...I’ve never played this before,” he muttered.
“I want a different partner,” Benedict said immediately.
“Too late,” Mariot chided. Apparently, this was a game he was good at, for he sat a little taller and looked worlds more confident. He even quirked a smile at me as he dealt the cards. “Ready, partner?”
That moment when I start drawing and for some reason I have no idea what a “prince charming” type look is supposed to be like. I aimed for a lofty aristocratic look that isn’t arrogant.
