Becoming A Founding "Father"- Historical Hamilton

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Mrs Washington

Sometimes, after these meetings, he came back to our tent looking more tired than ever. Whenever I asked what happened, he brushed me off. "How bad is it?"

Alexander laughed humorlessly. "You shall have to find out."

"Le Général is not a bad person, mon loulou." I look at Lafayette, concerned. He seemed... melancholy. "He is just stressed... like all of us."

"Yes, but-" Alexander hesitates, before switching to French. "Quand ai-je déjà jeté du verre sur mes aides-de-camp pour calmer ma colère?"

"Hamilton, s'il vous plaît." Lafayette gestures to me, his eyes never leaving the ground. I put a hand on his shoulder, and he finally looks at me.

"Are you alright, Laf?" I ask.

"I am fine." He shakes his head, his gaze lowering again. "Need not worry about me, I am just tired."

I let my hand fall. "If you say so. I'm here if you need anything."

---

Lafayette isn't alright. I'm not sure what exactly is wrong with him, but there is something off in his demeanor- his eyes don't sparkle as bright when he talks, nor do his hands move expressively when he talks. Yet no matter when I ask him, he insists that he's alright.

Another thing that I had noticed was that he was doing everything in his power to always stay close to the aides- us- rather than following Washington everywhere. It's the little things- his constant presence in the aide- uh, no longer tent, as we're currently moving to a house; his hesitance to go do his rounds; another pair of hands scribbling about finance. While he's not unwelcome, he is also a Major General- people need him elsewhere.

I don't say anything, though. He seems to have much on his plate anyway.

"Alright, Gentlemen!" Meade's bright voice snaps me out of my thoughts, and everyone in the room looks to him. "'Tis moving day! I trust you have already packed everything needed?"

"Richard, we're not moving camp, don't be so dramatic about it," I say, and the man just laughs.

"Well, it is not every day that His Excellency allows us something nice for a change." The rest of the aides laugh, but I'm not sure how to feel about it. In the best case scenario, I shall be seeing Washington everyday, which is not a pleasant thought to think about. 

I'm not sure how I feel about the man, but whatever it is, it's not good. Not only do I want to avoid him to prevent- uh- a bigger paradox then I have already caused, but I hear whispers from soldiers, and they're not flattering. They talk of his piercing gaze seems to know everything, and the man is as expressionless as a statue, his raging anger that turns him into a terrible monster...

Okay, maybe I am a bit scared of him. But that doesn't matter too much- the rest of my colleagues are ecstatic to move to a proper house with heating.

"We'll have a hearth?" Alexander exclaims, and Meade nods, making the shorter man shout out a 'hurrah' to everyone's amusement. Alexander hated the cold weather, but who doesn't? I sure do by now.

We take all of our things and are ready to leave, and then Harrison says "Laurens, are you coming?"

I turn back to find Laurens at the very back of the tent, with his arms tensely crossed. When he sees me turning around, he quickly breaks eye contact and his gaze lands on the floor. He clears his throat, and his voice is very shaky. "Yes... Yes, I'm- uh- I'm coming."

"Have you taken ill, sir?" Tilghman makes note of the southerner's white face, but Laurens shakes his head, his gaze landing on me again. 

"I'm alright," He says, and I saw a spark of fear in his eyes before he rushed to leave. We all watched as he took off, hopefully in the right direction. Meade and Tilghman shared a look.