Chapter Text
My dearest Angelica,
I am very pleased to hear that Paris is a nice city. From the letter you wrote me a month ago I got the feeling that you were unhappy in France. I hope you are very well and your husband is also in good health.
Thomas will be returning from France soon, I received a letter from Monsieur de Lafayette yesterday, Thomas was too busy to write, but is on his way to America together with our daughter.
I am very happy to hear that you saw my Margaret a time ago. She writes me every week and it appears she is becoming very good in the French language. She is truly a talented child and I’m sure that someday she will blow us all away!
I have been a little nervous lately, Thomas hasn’t been writing me for a whole month. The only letters from France came from you, Margaret and Lafayette. I am worried something is wrong or that I’ve said something that displeased him.
Your sister, Eliza , visited me yesterday and she is very well. She apologizes for not being able to write you a letter, but the poor dearest has too many things to do. I am coming over soon and I will help her. She is seven months pregnant and far too busy. Alexander is also very well, but busy writing the Federalist Papers or something. He is truly working non stop and will not come out of his office. They both send you and John their love!
My best wishes,
Y/N Jefferson
You finished the letter to Angelica, smiling to yourself. It was very boring here in Monticello, only having the slaves to talk to who were starting to detest your ramblings. When Margaret, your adopted daughter, a seventeen year old girl with raven black hair and Thomas, your husband, would come back from France everything would be so much better.
Someone knocked on the door.
‘Come in!’ You yelled. It was Sally, the only one who appreciated your talks.
‘Ah, mistress, I was wondering if you wanted me to post your letter to Mrs. Church?’ Sally asked, her dark hair in a tight bun behind her head.
‘Please.’ You handed her the letter. ‘But wait, rest a little bit. You’ve been working all day, just sit down and breathe Sally.’
‘I’ve got too much to do, mistress.’ Sally said. ‘But thank you.’
She left and you stood up from your desk, your skirt flowing around your ankles. Sighing you walked over to the window. Your heart bounced when you saw an carriage approaching.
It couldn’t be. It would be too soon, right? But still you gathered your skirts and ran out the room, your heart beating fast. Finally they would be back!
Margaret was looking out of the window, seeing Monticello, her home. Nervously she looked at her father, sitting across her, also looking out of the window. He seemed amazed.
‘So this is Monticello.’ He murmured.
‘Yes.’ She breathed. ‘Mum will be waiting.’
‘You haven’t written her. Told her about it. Right?’ Her father asked.
Sally swallowed. ‘Angelica and Lafayette thought it was for the best.’
‘So there is a woman in there who is gonna be so exited to see me again, not knowing I won’t recognize her.’ Thomas said.
‘She’ll understand as soon as I’ll explain it to her. She is a sensible woman.’ Margaret argued. ‘But we wanted to spare her the worry and pain all alone here when she would be informed over a letter.’
The carriage stopped and the door flew open. Thomas saw how a beautiful woman, almost tripping over her purple skirts ran to them, her eyes glowing. His heart broke for the poor woman.
The door of the carriage was opened and Thomas stepped out, the woman immediately falling in his arms, smelling deliciously like perfume and small in his arms.
‘Thomas!’ She breathed, kissing him. Thomas tried to act like he knew who she was, like he loved her. But he couldn’t because this woman was practically a stranger to him.
‘What’s wrong?’ She asked, seeing the look on his face, worry in her eyes.
‘Mom.’ Margaret stepped out. ‘There was an accident.’
The woman let go of him, stepping back. A group of slaves had gathered there, Thomas noticed. A young black woman stepped next to the lady and took her hands.
‘Mistress.’ She murmured.
‘No! I want to know what’s going on. Margaret?’ The woman demanded.
‘I’m sorry, but dad lost his memory.’ Margaret said.