Chapter Text
Peggy Schuyler watches from a distance as her sisters dance around in the spotlight.
Angelica blessed every room she walked into with her beautiful hair and fantastic looks. Peggy knew that Angelica enjoyed the attention being on her–of course, it was only natural. Peggy would enjoy it, too. Angelica turned down men that wouldn't ever spare her sister a passing glance on an almost daily basis. If she didn’t know better, Peggy would be jealous.
Eliza is a gift to this world. She was the most trusting, kind-hearted woman that Peggy knew. Whoever gets to marry her will be a lucky man.
Peggy is nothing like them. She doesn’t get constant attention from boys, she doesn’t get to dance with everyone who stood on the ballroom floor-- hell-- she hasn’t even had her first kiss!
Peggy watched in silence as Angelica led a rather.. greasy looking fellow, over to Eliza. The two of them strike up a conversation and she looks away in fear of being caught. Looking over all the men in the ballroom, none of them in particular stuck out to her. Well, that was until she looked over to the bar.
There were three men sitting there. The one on the right had loose, curly hair in a ponytail that cascaded down his back. The one in the middle was turned to where Peggy couldn’t really see him, but the one to the left– oh, dear God, he was beautiful.
He had coiling locks, thrown up in a tight bun, so there was nothing to obstruct her view of his face. His jawline was in between sharp and soft, just perfectly on the border, how Peggy liked it. His nose was a straight slope and he had gorgeous full lips.
Abruptly, the man in the middle turned his head and caught Peggy’s eye.
In a hurry to not be caught staring, she snapped her head to the other side. She looked at anything but the men. The floor became incredibly interesting instantly.
If she tried hard enough, she could faintly make out some of their conversation.
“Hey, Lafayette. You’ll never believe who’s looking,” said one of them in a smug voice, which Peggy assumes is the one that saw her checking him out. So, the marvelous-looking-mystery-man’s name was Lafayette. She makes an inference that this man is French. Her father wouldn’t like that. He didn't like most people, but especially not foreigners. But, for some reason, this does not deter her. It doesn’t make Peggy want him any less.
“Eh, doesn’t matter,” spoke a French-accented voice. Peggy was right.
Doesn’t matter? He doesn’t care– doesn’t even look over to her. Perhaps it’s because he’s drunk, but either way, Peggy can’t help but feel relieved that this Lafayette boy didn’t care.
“No, man, go talk to her!” a different voice spoke.
“Nah– No. I’m not,” said Lafayette, sounding amused despite his words. “I’m not talking to a woman while I’m drunk– we know how that’s going to end up.”
“I’m going to go tell her to come here if you don’t go.” threatened one of them. Peggy heard a deep sigh and the sound of a chair moving, then the faint, teasing words of encouragement from Lafayette’s friends.
Peggy quietly cleared her throat, fixed her dress, and stood up a little straighter. A handsome man was finally approaching her. She wasn’t watching on the side-lines as her sisters caught man after man– no, it was finally her turn.
“Excuse me, madame,” said Lafayette once he arrived beside Peggy. He was holding two shot glasses and he raised one in offer. His accent was even stronger up close and for a second, she almost didn’t hear him say, “Care for a drink?”
Peggy faltered at this. She had never witnessed such an.. improper introduction. (Well, not counting Burr’s first time hitting on Angelica.) Despite this, she found her eyes glued to the man. Fuck, he was even more stunning up close.
She smiled awkwardly as she turned him down.
“Oh, no, sir. I don’t drink. Thank you, though,” said Peggy, trying as hard as she could to make sure he didn’t see her slight disappointment.
Lafayette grinned as he cringed at himself internally. He sat the two glasses down on the unoccupied table that was behind them. After a few seconds of unpleasant silence, he spoke once again.
“So, what’s someone like you doing all alone?” drawled Lafayette, trying to sound as interesting as he could so he wouldn’t lose her interest.
Peggy would be a liar if she claimed the way he said that didn’t do something to her.
“Well, my sisters are out dazzling the room. Left me without anything to do,” said Peggy. She decided that telling the truth wouldn’t hurt in this situation.
“Really? And they didn’t bring you along?” said Lafayette. It was a horrible attempt at flirting.
She huffed a laugh at him and turned her head to glance at her sisters. This man was so.. terribly awkward, and the worst part? She was loving it. The two of them were similar in this manner. Neither of them could flirt without sounding stupid.
“My name is Margarita Schuyler, but you,” she poked Lafayette on the nose and continued, “..can call me Peggy.” said Peggy. She attempted to hide her amusement, but it was clear as day on her face.
The other sighed shortly, smiled, and replied, “Lafayette.”
Peggy raised an eyebrow at that. He didn’t say anything about her being a Schuyler sister. That was one thing but – no way in hell was he getting away with only giving her a last name.
“Just Lafayette? No first or middle names?” asked Peggy, a small bit of accusation seeped into her tone, but she wasn’t really angry or irritated with the boy.
Lafayette’s expression faltered at that. She thought it was rather funny to watch him trip over himself, but she really did want to know the other’s actual name.
“Well, come on then, spit it out. I have all night, but I’d rather not spend it waiting for this.”
Lafayette sighed, the smile drifting off his face and forming into something more embarrassed.
“Okay, okay. Fine,” said Lafayette, raising his hands in mock-surrender, “Since you have to know.. My full name is Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de La-Fayette, Marquis de Lafayette.”
He relished in the way her face morphed into one of confusion and slight shock.
“Oh,” started Peggy.
“Yeah, maybe I’ll just stick to your last name.” This earned her a smile and a short laugh out of him. Perhaps she was getting somewhere, but he was also drunk, so it cut down the possibilities.
After that, they talked and chatted for hours, until the ball eventually came to an end. They never danced, not even once. Lafayette had insisted he was too clumsy to dance with someone as pristinely dressed as herself. No matter how hard she tried, he flat out refused. The music cut out, the musicians had grown tired from hours of playing almost non-stop.
Peggy glanced over to Lafayette, staring at him as the dim candlelight highlighted his features. His dark skin was perfectly flawless, all his features were exquisite , and–...
She hates to say it, but she was almost glad that she was caught staring earlier. She wouldn’t have ever made the first move, and she wouldn’t have ever had the chance to talk to him.
Though, distantly, she knew that this would not last. Lafayette probably wouldn’t even remember her the next time they spoke– if they ever get the chance to speak again, that is. They had exchanged addresses to write to each other, but she truly doubted that he will.
“Peggy!” exclaimed a voice that was headed towards them. Lafayette looked up to see who it was, but Peggy already knew. It was her father, Phillip Schuyler. He was here purely for a business meeting and he expected his daughters to behave. She would’ve tried to get away from Lafayette, but it was obvious that Phillip had already seen him.
Lafayette opened his mouth to ask who that was and Peggy quickly stuck a finger up at him before he could say a word. If her father found out she’d been hanging around a French guy– a drunk one at that– she couldn’t say just how he’d react, but she knew it wouldn’t be pretty.
“Father,” greeted Peggy, feigning normalcy.
Phillip seemed to glance at Lafayette, look him up and down, then back at Peggy.
Internally, she sighed in relief. Her father doesn’t care. Well– he doesn’t know that Lafayette is a foreigner yet, but that could wait. Phillp grabbed her by the arm and pulled her up.
“It’s quite time to go,” he said, voice too calm for comfort. Fuck, he probably knew. Of course he would– he just had to.
Peggy followed him without even as much as a glance back to Lafayette. Once they were far enough, her father turned to her and smacked her.
The hit wasn’t hard, per-se, but the force was enough to make her head snap to the side. She silently reached up to her cheek. Peggy had seen it coming, but it still hurt nonetheless. She said nothing and waited for her father to speak.
“What were you doing with that boy?” he asked in that same, eerily calm tone.
Peggy didn’t exactly know how to respond, so she spouted out the truth.
“We’re not friends or anything, father, he just.. wanted to talk and I was alone– it’s nothing, father, I promise,” Well, she left out the part where she, too, wished to speak with him, but it’s still partially the truth.
“What did I say about talking to strangers?” said Phillip, “I gave you one specific order, and you couldn’t even do that much!” His voice grew into a yell. Peggy was sure eyes were on them now.
“Father, please–” she tried, but received another smack that shut her up.
“No! Do you know who that is? He’s a foreigner that almost no one knows. Don’t you know what such a man could do to someone? He could kidnap you and we’d never even know who did it!”
Well, maybe that would be for the better, Peggy thought to herself before feeling a pang of guilt. She was willing to run off with a man she barely knew just to get away from her father. Jesus Christ, that was messed up.
Phillip took a deep breath and grabbed her arm once more. As he dragged her off, she took one last glance over to Lafayette. He was already back to his friends, sitting idly with a bored expression. She sighed and looked away from him. It wasn’t worth the trouble.
The two of them exited the building and met up with her sisters. Eliza was practically beaming, while Angelica looked an odd mix of jealous and supportive.
Peggy ignored the three of them and stepped into the awaiting carriage. She sat in the corner and leaned onto the wooden beam. She didn’t even attempt to mask her disappointment.
Why does fate always hand Peggy the shorter stick?
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“Peggy, the mail’s here!” called Eliza from downstairs.
Peggy was barely awake. She sat and rubbed her eyes sleepily before standing and slipping her house-slippers on. How does Angelica leave the house this early daily ?
She makes her way down the stairs and into the sitting room, where her father and Eliza sifted through letters. Peggy took her seat and grabbed a few off the table to inspect the addresses. Most was just trash or spam letters asking them to sign up for a subscription to a daily news newspaper. But, at the bottom of the pile, she spotted one with her name on it.
Glancing at her father, then at Eliza, she made sure they were distracted before she slipped the letter into the deep, left pocket of her gown. Peggy sighed and dropped the other letters back onto the table.
“Nothing but spam mail, like usual,” she said, then she stood and turned to go back upstairs. Without giving anyone a moment to call out for her, she sped-walked up the staircase. Once out of sight, she bolted to her room, opening the door and locking it behind her.
She sat down on the bed and pulled out the letter. Her full name was on the front of the envelope and in the corner was the sender.
Marquis de Lafayette.
He hadn’t forgotten about her. He had actually written to her like he said he would. Peggy couldn’t help but stare at the letter in shock for a few moments before peeling it open.
“ My dearest, Margarita,
To begin this letter, I’d like to apologize for not writing to you sooner. To add, I also apologize for any errors made in this message, as I am not completely fluent in the English language yet, and I am in a rush to write this.
Margarita Schuyler, you are the most stunning woman I’ve ever laid eyes upon. Your personality is one that only the brightest of people could have. In a way, you remind me of the sun. You shine brightly in the day time, but by night, you are nowhere to be found. Truly, I do hope that we get to meet again. There is so much that we do not know about each other, a whole foundation of unexplored territory to discover. It has been only a week since we’ve first and last met and yet I cannot help but feel like I am missing something when I’m not around you.
Despite all this, there is one other thing I would like to discuss.
I saw that your father was yelling at you the other night. If you don’t mind telling, and with all due respect, why was he doing that? Why did he hit you like that? His name is Phillip Schuyler, yes? I’ve heard about him, but that was the first time I’ve seen him. Your father is a very, very intimidating man, dear Peggy. I would like to know more about him, if you do not care to share.
I have to hurry and get to the General’s quarters– he’s asked to see me, and frankly, I’m a little afraid to go see what he wants. But, if you are willing to speak to me further, please do not hesitate to write back. I wish you a nice day.
- Lafayette.
Oh.
Dear God. He wrote her a love letter.
Lafayette wrote her a love letter .
Not only that, he complimented her! Multiple times. When he had flirted with her at the ball, she had believed it was just a mere, drunken joke. But now, he’s done it sober and wrote it down!
Her eyes skimmed over the letter once more, as if to confirm what she’s just read. The questions about her father piqued her interest. Peggy arose from her bed and walked to her desk.
She sat in the chair and picked up her quill. She tore a piece of parchment from the roll and began to write.
This is going to be the best letter he’ll ever read.