#turnfic

Adrienne hummed in agreement, grumbling about the man in her reply. “He is a rather miserable fellow. And, if you would permit me to say, a bit….”

“Perverted? Slimy? A thorough ass?”

“I was going to say discomforting.”

The pair broke out in a peal of happy laughter at their own jokes, all made at the expense of Henry Laurens, for several moments before they were once more rudely interrupted by the silence.

“What about your mother?” It was not a question Adrienne would have dared to ask a week ago. She would never presume that she was close enough to him to be privy to such private knowledge, but it had been eating at her all week. His mother was named Eleanor. She had discovered that while being in the wrong place at the right time.

That was the kinder way to say she had been eavesdropping on Henry Laurens a few days prior.

Adrienne had so many questions. How did she pass? Why did they never speak of her? Did John favor her or his father more in character or appearance? She had so many questions about Eleanor Laurens, and it had been driving her mad for the past week.

So she had asked.

She did not wish to bombard him with all of her questions, not at once. That would only ensure that she did not receive an answer to a single one of them. No, she couldn’t ask it all, so she settled for asking a question about nothing at all. What about his mother?

He was a mama’s boy. That much was evident by the softened look in his eyes and the melancholic smile that graced his face at the mere mention of her. Good, that was good.

“What about her?”

Well, that certainly had not been the answer Adrienne had been expecting to pass from his lips, but she still faulted herself for being surprised. Of course, he would want to evade her question; he had done well covering the coveted memories with his mother from the bald eye, and he was not to stop now. Besides, Adrienne could hardly make a claim of being privy to such personal information.

But it was eating her alive.

She just had to know.

“Anything really,” Was her reply. She had so many questions and not a single clue as to an answer to them. Adrienne would take anything he would give her. “I do not know a thing about her, none beside her name.”

“She was beautiful.”

There was a long pause after his wispy words that almost made her think that he had told her all he was willing to share, but just as she prepared to drop the subject and be consumed by the silence once more, he continued. “She was the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Her hair… Well, I am no student of poetry, Miss Fairfax, so I am afraid I haven’t a poetic comparison to give you, but it was a beautiful golden color. It had streaks of honey and even a few light brown in it, but you could never tell they were different from the rest of her hair unless you got close enough.”

He had paused again, looking out over the railing as he had been before, but this was somehow different. She could not place it precisely, but Adrienne knew better than to interrupt him. She shifted on her feet in his arms, letting out a small yelp in surprise when he suddenly lifted her to sit on the railing, placing the hand that had not been holding her before on her waist as he propped himself up with the other.

“I cannot figure out for the life of me if she would have liked you or not.”

Adrienne was not sure if she should take that as a compliment or an insult, but decided to keep her mouth shut, merely tilting her chin up to look at him, encouraging him to continue with that happily curious smile of hers. “And why,” his eyes dropped to hers at the suddenness of her words as they interrupted his previously silent space, “is that?”

He continued to look at her eyes with quite a quiet intensity that she had become familiar with in the past week before a slight toothy grin spread on his face. “Well, she would have been mortified by such an attraction as this,” he nodded vaguely at the property Belvoir sat on as he spoke, “She was always saying that Mepkin was like an out-of-place monument to material among the natural beauty of the Carolinas. She would have called this a palace. And she would have been mortified by how strictly grown the gardens are.”

“She did not enjoy such things? Even for the sake of the visual beauty?” Adrienne could not help but let the questions slip from her lips and found that she only slightly regretted asking because, much to her surprise, they were met with an answer and an eager one at that. She could see it clear as day in his baby blues, or ought she to say Carolina blues?

“She loved nature as it belonged,” was John’s reply, continuing more with that same smile on his lips, “It was my father’s wedding gift to her. 100 acres around the house to do whatever she pleased with. I think just about everything that could possibly grow in the Carolinas can be found there.”

“And my gardens are a testament to who I am as an individual?” She had meant it as a jest, she really had, but he had other plans in mind for the comment, cupping the hand he had been propping himself up with on the side of her face.

“Yes,” he replied, not noticing just how hard she was trying to regulate her breathing at the soft touch of his bare hand on her cheek. “It says a good deal as a testament to your character.”

Adrienne was not sure why this had affected her constitution so greatly, sinking her heart in her chest as he uttered the words. “Then she would not have liked me?”

Perhaps it had upset her because she rather believed him to favor his mother. The heart in her chest was outweighed by the stone in her stomach, and, were she a weaker-willed woman, there might have been tears sparkling in her eyes. Adrienne, however, would not be moved to tears when she was not entirely confident why she was crying.

“No,” he said tenderly, wickedly interrupting her silence, “I rather think she would have considered it quite a complementary recommendation.”

“She would?”

Who could blame her for being startled at such a sudden change?

“The neat rows of manicured hedge, monuments to towering statues and fountains of marble, and the piles of pure bloom flowers..” he hesitated before continuing, not stopping his tender study of her face, “They are certainly a spectacle, but they are warm. For some reason.”

She understood him immediately. Belvoir was always warm to Adrienne.

The imposing facade, elaborate decor, and imported marble floors were intimidating to most of the guests. It was designed for such an effect. The house was, by the family’s station, public grounds. But William Fairfax made sure that those who entered knew deep down it was not theirs.

Everyone except for John.

Belvoir was always warm to Adrienne, and eventually, it would belong to John.

And it was warm to him.

“And what does that say about me?” It came out as a hushed whisper, not wanting to disturb him when he was so close to her as if any louder might have caused him to rear her off the balcony railing.

“Is it not obvious?”

What kind of answer even was that? Adrienne was not sure to proceed in her questioning, as she did suppose that she could make sense of his comments on her own if she tried, but something in her wanted nothing more than to hear him say it. She wanted it, quite frankly, to pass through his lips rather than be developed in her own mind.

Thankfully, she did have to ask him for such. John took her lack of speech as ignorance and continued. Unfortunately, his continued speech meant a finger— a thumb, to be precise— caressed her cheek as he spoke, “Because somewhere, underneath this beautiful facade, I believe you have a heart.” She laughed suddenly at the solemn tone that accompanied the statement, bringing a smile to his face and humor to his tone as he defended himself. “I am serious! You pretend to be all formalities and— what’s that phrase you just used… the...ah, yes— “visual beauty” I believe that, somewhere, locked away, you have an extraordinarily warm and tender heart.”

“I would not particularly hold your breath for that.”

John had a quite unusual laugh, Adrienne had never paid it any attention till now, and it came from so deep within him it seemed to be a part of his very nature of being. It was oddly warming and made her want to smile to join in his joy. And oh, oh he had called her beautiful, of all things.

“And she jests!” He exclaimed with a grand flourish, lifting her off the railing and giving her a short spin through the air before placing her into the crook of his arm to hold her near him.

Adrienne might never get used to how he looked out of uniform.

She might never become used to it, but, oh, did she love it.

He had called her beautiful.

He had called her beautiful and held her to him as a man and wife ought to be, and, oh, did she love it. For just a moment, they were alone on a beautiful marble balcony, and just for a moment, the two were so at ease.

She really must go.

She had to go.

The late March sky illuminated the borrowed bedroom, the blue haze of dawn barely seeping through the bed curtains. Adrienne Fairfax laid wide awake on her pillow at this ungodly hour, reserved usually for sentries and aides. She was awake with sleep still nipping at her heels as she watched him sleep, peacefully if not quietly. His little breaths did not phase her. No, she found them rather endearing, enrapturing enough to keep her bare shoulders in the sheets of the bed. Though it wasn’t as if she needed any help doing that.

She really must go.

He looked perfectly handsome like this, his sculpture-like body glowing with the haze of dawn. He was stirring from his sleep, as she expected he would start to do soon. He kept his eyes closed and he muttered out a gravily “good morning” to her, his sleep coated voice tempting her to close her eyes once more.

She had to go.

She must go.

She knew she must.

He knew she must.

“I must leave soon.”

She knew she must.

He knew she must.

“Must you?”

He was no longer attempting sleep, his beautiful deep brown eyes softly peering into her own. He knew she must leave soon. They would be caught otherwise.

He shifted towards her some and she began to plea with him “Thaddeus-“

“Let me hold you,” he was pleading with her now, “I only wish to hold you. Before you go.”

“You make it sound as though I am leaving you forever,” she murmured, shuffling over to rest her head on his bare chest.

Thaddeus hummed at this, stroking his hands gently through her hair as he replied, “it feels as though you are.”

His skin was soft, but her’s was softer. She knew he wished her to stay just as much as she wished to stay. She wished to stay exactly where she was, wrapped up in his arms, head resting on his bare chest, with one hand stroking her hair and the other tracing delicate patterns on her back.

She really must go.

She knew she must.

He knew she must.

This time Adrienne spoke, following a small contented sigh that escaped her own lips. “I must leave soon.”

This time Thaddeus spoke in a defeated tone, one that understood how his pleas might fall. “Must you? Pulaski will not return until-“

“Quarter to five today,” she finished. She had heard it many times over the night previous as he begged her to reconsider her departure. She really must go.

They lay in silence, only for a moment, her curled into him, bare skin on bare skin, and him looking down at her like she was his everything.

She was his everything.

Last night proved that.

It was her that broke the silence, shifting up to her elbows beside him. “You sneaky little-“

“Is that word becoming of a young lady?”

Adrienne only huffed in response, tossing the sheets off of her and swinging her legs off the side of the bed as he reached out to grab her, just missing her as she got to her feet. He let out a slight whine, complaining about the coldness of the room and her standing to dress.

“You may come help me dress if you wish, or do you prefer just to sit there and complain?” She spoke as she pinned back her hair to the sides of her head, leaving it free flowing down her back.

She did not need to look back at him as she spoke, knowing that the rustling of sheets and the padding of his feet on the wooden floors ensured his joining her. He held her clean chemise she had brought in his hand. From looking into the mirror, she could see that he was holding it out to her, and when she was satisfied with how her curls fell, she reached a hand back for him to hand her the linen chemise.

Thaddeus had other plans, placing his warm hand on her waist, pulling her closer to him, before draping the material over her shoulders. Adrienne smiled at him in the mirror, laughing a bit when he smacked away her hands from the tie, insisting on doing it himself, no matter how often he fumbled with the little ribbons rather than successfully tying them. This elected another laugh from Adrienne she attempted to suppress, eyes gleaming with amusement in the mirror, meeting his tender and adoring eyes.

“I like it like this.” She did not know if he was talking about her hair, which he adored seeing let loose from her pinned curls, or if he was talking about her. About them. Adrienne said nothing in response.

She was his everything.

And she really had to go.

She knew it.

So did he.

When Adrienne finally managed to tear her eyes from his, reaching for her stockings only to discover them missing. When she turned, however, she was met face to face with her stockings and their position beneath the garters already in the hand of her Colonel.

Thaddeus had placed his hand out to her, standing beside the foot of the bed and beaconing her to him once more. Adrienne obeyed his wish, propping herself up on the edge of the bed as he held her hand, maintaining that contact as he slid to his knees before her.

She was his everything.

This morning proved that.

He took his time.

Slowly, he slid the first stocking up her leg, her foot resting on his thigh as he rolled the silk over her skin, carefully resting it on her thigh before pulling the ties of the garter ribbon carefully overtop it.

She was his everything.

This morning proved that.

He was gentle.

Carefully, he held the ribbon in his calloused hands, its softness a harsh contrast against his coarse hands that her own equally soft skin had found safety in many times over. His hands were strong as they tied the ribbon around her thigh, steady and sure of their purpose there.

She was his everything.

He repeated this same process on her opposite foot, sliding his hand up the side of her thigh and chemise as he stood to his feet, bringing her to hers as he did so.

He was gentle.

Last night proved that.

“Please,” she begged, “Do not start something that we cannot finish.”

“We could if you would just-“

She really must go.

She knew she must.

He knew she must.

She silenced him with a kiss. She pulled him gently down to her lips by the linen of the nightshirt he had pulled on to cover himself in the dawn light. When they finally separated from the tender embrace, she spoke.

“It will only be three weeks,” her hands still clutched the linen, “and then you will see me-“

“For a day,” he complained, interrupting her sentence as he did so.

“For a day,” she agreed, unbothered by the interruption, “A very special day.”

“I try not to think about that part too much.”

“Why ever would you need to do that?”

“It makes me feel like a crippling old man.”

This pulled a happy laugh from her lips and a smile in turn from his. He looked at her with all his adoration in his eyes as he watched her smile and laugh to herself at his expense.

He adored her.

She was his everything.

She really must go.

Adrienne forced herself to reach for her stays to don the item, reaching the point of no return with the shapewear. Thaddeus took the cues and stepped forward as she shouldered the silk, boned garment. His hands followed a familiar path, pulling the ribbon through the lacing at her back, motioning for her to grab onto the poster of the bed before tightening the laces. His hands were strong as they drew the stays around her waist, his body heat radiating onto her. His closeness kept her warm in the chill of an early spring morning, the warmth of his hands seeping through the pads of his fingers as they rested on her sides.

He adored her.

He was gentle.

With two fingers on either side of her waist, he used the rest of his hands to grasp the silky ribbon. His hands were strong— oh god, they were strong and confident and careful all at once, last night proved that— their strength shook her small frame slightly as he tightened the stays around her. Confident. Careful.

The same applied to her petticoats, fastening the round ties of the underskirt by pulling her flush against him, wrapping his arms around her— they were strong too, his arms— and whispering sweet nothings into her ear, bringing more laughter to her lips once more.

She was his everything.

She adored him.

The outermost petticoat was tightened with its drawstring ties, his hands rocking her with strength once more. It was perfect.

She wished she could stay.

She must leave soon.

She could afford the time to enjoy herself now, in this moment, however. And so she did. Smiling warmly down at the crouched down Colonel with dark curls as he fastened the cloth-covered buttons over her stomacher and at her cuffs, pressing a kiss to her wrist—right on the pulse point— before buttoning them.

She was his everything.

He adored her.

Thaddeus settled himself on the edge of the bed, handing her hairpins as she fasted the small flat lace cap to the crown of her head. He looked at her like she was his everything. He adored her. Last night proved that.

She looked back at him in the mirror on the wall, silence passing between the two like a continuous harmony before he smiled softly at her, beckoning her to him.

She could afford the time to enjoy herself now, here, in the moment.

He was her everything.

He looked up at her, fully dressed and perched on his lap, and pressed a kiss, not to her cheeks, head, or lips, but her hand.

She extended her hand to the stately man, who, in turn, brought it to his lips, ‘there was no room for him to properly bow in here’ is what Adrienne would tell Martha later, as his eyes met hers, he offered her a charming smile.

“I have heard of your beauty from the Lieutenant Colonel, but I believed him blasphemous,” the silver-tongued Colonel, who still held her hand near his lips, had certainly just been acting out of courtesy. She’d tell that to Martha later as well. “I’m afraid I now owe him an apology for not believing in the angelic beauty that now stands before me.”

“Same time tomorrow?”

She smiled, laughing at his continued antics, and he looked at her like she was his everything.

He adored her.

He was her everything.

She adored him.

It was a crow. Hardly visible in the dark, outlined only by the light of a waning moon. Anna peered blearily at it, now awake enough to be astounded when it cocked its head in turn. The crow flicked its beak against her windowpane impatiently. Tap, tap.

Anna pulled herself from her bed.

Her movements certainly felt dreamlike—walking barefoot across the carpeted floor, her nightgown doing little to protect her from the night air. Anna shivered, hooking both hands on opposite elbows, letting her toes drag and feeling vaguely as if she’d done this before.

Despite the temperature, Anna eased open the window. She crouched slightly as the crow continued to wait on her, its own shadowed feet digging into the wood. Anna pursed her lips at the odd little visitor.

“Hello,” she whispered.

It was the wrong thing to do… or perhaps the right thing, for the crow took flight with a startling cry, knocking Anna backwards. Its black body disappeared amongst the shadowed trees… but not before she saw it heading towards the docks.

Without hesitation Anna followed.

This wasn’t a decision of the lucid, the fully awake, but nor was it made entirely without agency, for Anna knew exactly what she was doing when she eased open her door, lifting it from the knob to keep it from squeaking. She felt the pull of her bed—the tiny voice in the back of her mind questioning this action—but the draw of adventure had always been too strong. Anna was a cat this night—fed on curiosity, hunting a bird.

She cast a look on Hewlett’s door as she passed. Though frowning, Anna did not stop.

Down the elegant staircase, past the dining room, out the heavy front door. She didn’t pause for a coat or even shoes. The wood of the judge’s porch left subtle splinters in her heels. Anna didn’t feel them. She stepped out into a light shower and titled her head to the sky, suddenly, vividly recalling a dream of drowning. She’d loved the feeling of water flooding her lungs.

A cry sounded through the night air—the cry of a crow. Anna’s head snapped up and she picked up the pace, hefting her nightgown and tearing down the steps, out across the fields. She raced through the dewy grass, picking up mud that splattered along her stomach and thighs. Anna passed the dying trees of an orchard, their uncollected fruit rotting on the ground. A bucket with a rusting rim caught her eye, as did the shadows of gravestones. All of it whispered to her. These obejcts appeared eerie this time of night. Eager.

Within minutes Anna had made it to the grove where the crow had disappeared. In the distance she could see the docks, the grey outline of the water as it pushed and pulled toward shore. Another cry sounded above her—the crow calling her forward—but Anna was enticed by the waves. She pushed through the rest of town and came to the pier, drenched, muddy, the parts of her nightgown not brown and tattered sticking to her frame.

There Anna found someone waiting in the moonlight.

Except... no. He waited in shadows, hidden from the moon beneath the branches of a tree, that crow sitting above him, its call growing in volume. Anna stepped to him with the blank stare of the resigned—or with the bliss of the drugged.

“You’re late tonight,” he told her. “Don’t let it happen again.”

Anna nodded, his voice a slow, soothing cadence. The man’s fingers were suddenly skimming her face, gentle, then wrenching her against him. She went willingly and let her mind fill with pictures she couldn’t actually see: red hair that had turned black in the darkness, pale skin that now looked sickly grey. His mouth was demanding and Anna reciprocated, quite unwilling to do anything else. She lay with him beneath the fir tree as the crow watched their every move. The sound of the waves was the only thing louder than their breathing.

Dawn was the signal to sneak away. Or back. She couldn’t quite tell which was which anymore. Where before there were two bodies, now there were three, the dark-skinned man appearing to reclaim his crow. He spoke to the bird, rewarding it for its work, and Anna was vaguely aware that he, like all around her, was two-fold. What was his name again? Something with a J? Or an A?

The red-haired man took back her attention. Moving between gentle and demanding, he slipped the nightgown back onto her frame, newly washed in harbor. Anna smelled the sea salt sticking to her skin as the man whispered clear instructions: step lightly but quickly back to your room, hang the nightgown to dry, mend the tears come morning—say nothing, recall little.

She would.

Anna did as instructed. She crept away from the docks, back past the bucket and the field of rotting fruit. Through the heavy door and back up the stairs, past the room where Hewlett still slept. She crawled into bed just as the first light hit her window, indicating that the rest of Setauket would soon come alive.

Anna, however, slept like the dead. When she did wake it would be to a naked body and muddied feet, her muscles sore in places unmentionable. She wouldn’t think much of it. Anna would go about her day—normal, smiling, until night fell and she could again dream of drowning. Wait for the water saturating her lungs.

Wait for the tap, tap, tap.