The Right Hand Of The Father

chapter 17

He stared nervously at the white townhouse as their carriage pulled up outside it. Tried not to fidget with his plain black waistcoat. None of his new clothes were ready and he had nothing but the two suits of clothes that his daddy had bought for him when he first came to New Orleans. They were perfectly fine suits. Somber black with silver buttons. Stark. Severe. Proper clothing for a clerk.

But after today at the tailors he knew that it wasn’t the clothes that one would expect from the boy who stole General George Washington’s heart. The boy who shared his bed. And it wasn’t that he cared for himself but he wanted no one to think that his daddy didn’t care for him properly. That he wasn’t being spoiled and petted and treated to the finest luxuries. He would not have anyone think his daddy was too tight with his coin to properly take care of a boy as a gentleman should.

“It’s fine.” His daddy reached out to take his hand. “Thomas knows that this is a simply dinner tonight between friends. He doesn’t expect you in fine clothes. Heaven knows the man himself might answer in his banyan.”

Alexander widened his eyes at his Daddy. Who would dare come to dinner with someone as prestigious as his daddy in their nightclothes?

“He’s done it before,” the other man chuckled. “Thomas is… well some say he’s become eccentric since our arrival in New Orleans. He has a lot of guilt about it.”

“Guilt?”

“It was his contacts that found out about the arrest orders,” George said quietly. “He was the one who had made sure we had an escape route if the Crown decided to try us for treason. The rest of us? We were certain that our rights as Britons would never be usurped by our king. That we had the right to assemble. The right to protest when our government refused to recognize our legal complaints. The rest of us laughed at him. King George would never attempt to try us for treason.”

“But he did,” Alexander said quietly.

“He did.” His lover agreed. “And it was Thomas who came racing to Mount Vernon that day. Left his daughters behind with their nursemaid. Sent slaves from his plantation riding hell bent for leather to the other delegates to warn them. That’s the only thing that saved Sally Hemmings and her brother. Both of them were accomplished on horseback. Thomas wrote them passes and sent them to ride as fast as they could and not stop until they reached their destination. He sent Sally into Williamsburg and her brother to Montpelier to warn Madison. Jefferson came for me. Said we had to go immediately. Not wait for our families to pack. They could join us once we were settled. That King George wouldn’t harm them. He respected the rights of his citizens.

“What happened?” Alexander asked softly.

“Horrible things,” his daddy said his eyes far away. “We had nothing but reports. Rumors really. They slaughtered everyone. Raped the women. Jefferson’s girls. The slave women. My Martha. Murdered everyone. Killed the animals. Set the farms on fire. Burnt the town of Williamsburg and massacred the townspeople. One of the reports we received said that after the fires were doused the British army came through and sowed salt into our fields so that nothing would grow.”

“I’m sorry Daddy,” Alexander whispered and put a hand on the other man’s arms.

His lover shook his head and then stared at him. “It was a long time ago. We’ve moved on. Rebuilt. But Thomas? It broke something in Thomas. Made him a bit strange. We allow him some liberties that society would not otherwise.”

“Such as wearing his banyan to dinner?” Alexander asked.

“And his alarming love for the color purple,” his daddy said with a smile. “Or his love of a rather disgusting concoction that involves melted cheese and softened egg noodles.”