Chapter Forty-Four: Standstill

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*Chocolate was a drink, not a solid, in the 18th century. Please ignore that fact and enjoy

You reproach me with not having said enough about [Philip]. [...] He is truly a very fine young gentleman, the most agreeable in his conversation and manners of any I ever knew[...] He is handsome, his features are good, his eye is not only sprightly and expressive but it is full of benignity. [...] He has a method of waving his hand that announces the future orator. [...] If he has any fault in manners, he laughs too much. -Alexander Hamilton to Richard Kidder Meade, August 1782

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"How typical of General Cornwallis to not show his face in surrender," His Excellency mutters under his breath, loud enough for me and Tilghman to hear. Quite amusingly, he's correct, as I see no blue ribband on any of the men approaching the surrender.

"A surprise to no man." I have to strain to hear Tilghman's voice. Right next to us, on his stallion, Lafayette chuckles- it's forced. I feel faint, thanks to the unforgiving sun mercilessly beating down upon us.

"At last-" The Marquis continues speaking, but it's too quiet for me to catch in the sea of persistent whispers, "-With this damn siege."

I look to my right where Alexander and Laurens stand, side by side. They're also watching the approaching army, whispering in each other's ears like a married couple. Alex suppresses a laugh from something that the southerner says, and he looks happy.

"Are you alright, mon cher? You look pale," Lafayette asks, nudging me with his leg. I look up to him and nod.

"Yeah. I'm tired, and ready to get this over with- just like everyone else." He nods with an understanding smile.

"After all this, would you want to go out and have a drink with me and the-" his head tilts to gesture at Hamilton and Laurens, "-Maris?"

"Marie? That's your name, Laf." 

He snorts, shaking his head. "Would you?"

"Yeah, sure. I'm not drinking."

"Why not? I would like to hear more stories about my identical twin, Mr Jefferson."

"Piss off," I mumble, and he chuckles.

Washington huffs, amused. "Jefferson? Thomas Jefferson? The author of the Declaration of Independence?"

Lafayette looks confused. "Is he?"

A pause. His brows furrow.

He is

"No. I suppose he's not." 

I definitely am

Another pause. I can see sweat gathered on his brow. "Though, as I know both, I do not see much resemblance, Layden."

"Sir, I was completely knackered." He doesn't say anything else, and suddenly Lafayette gasps.

"Mon Général, I complete forgot that you wanted me to-!"

"-No, son, you deserve an evening to yourself," Washington says with a smile only reserved for his family. "Do not let the old man ruin your plans."

Lafayette frowns, but it's more of a pout than anything. "Sir, you are not yet fifty."

"Have fun, Lafayette," His Excellency softly insists. "Now that this siege is over, I expect you'll come with us to New York to continue the war effort."

I gasp. "Laf, you are?"

He nods with a laugh. "Bien sûr, Layden! There is no Cornwallis in the South anymore."

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