Notes for Chapter Four: I'm making Ona "Oney" Judge much older than she actually was, given that I already mentioned her in a previous chapter and I don't want to change it because I find her fascinating. In reality, she was born in 1773 and would have been far too young to be a maid to Martha Washington at any time during the Revolutionary War. She was a slave who escaped Mt. Vernon and fled to freedom in New Hampshire in 1796 and was hunted by a less enlightened GWash for the last three years of his life. Hopefully, in fiction, I grant her a kinder life where she can be who and as she wishes without the need to fight, run or hide.

Additionally, the quote that I attribute to Martha 'Patsy' Parke Custis is - so far as I am aware - not attributable to any real historical person, though it seemed very familiar as I was typing it. If it is an actual quote, please let me know so that I may give credit where it's due.

Chapter Four: A Long-Overdue Letter and Those Who See

His pen slowed to a stop, eyes reading back over the words on the parchment one more time. These words had to be perfect if they were even to begin making up for his previous shortcomings. What he had learned of Alexander's past over the last few hours – long though they seemed – had made clear his own failings as a husband and a father. Admittedly, though John did not feel he and Martha were well-suited as a married couple, they had been dear friends, and in his dissatisfaction with his marriage, John had let that friendship fade. Reigniting that companionship would be only the beginning of the reparations he need make to his wife and daughter.

My Dear Martha,

I must offer my most sincere apologies for this long-overdue correspondence. Recent events have brought to mind the many ways in which I have wronged you, my dearest friend. Admittedly, I find myself at a loss as to where I might begin offering some recompense for my errors. I remember those days when we would sit for hours, speaking of our hopes and dreams for the future, and know that I bear all fault for the current silence between us.

Martha, you alone knew that I would have preferred the study of medicine over law, my differences of opinion with my father on a multitude of issues, my passion for the cause that is Abolition. You demanded nothing of me and still I chafed at the bonds I set for myself. At heart, I miss my friend. Is there hope that we might find that friendship again, my dear wife, or have I killed it with a lack of care?

I beg any word of yourself and our dearest Frances, wishing to be both a better husband and father than I have been as of yet. I have no doubt, dear Martha, that you could have found a far better husband than I in my absence, but the vows are spoken, and you shackled to my unworthy self. It has been poorly done on my part not to attempt to make the best of it. Might you see it clear to allow me that chance now? I eagerly await your response.

I remain ever hopeful.

Your repentant husband,

John

Setting aside his quill and capping the inkwell, Laurens waited for the ink to dry, mind going back to all the words that had spilled from Alexander's mouth just a short time before, and the urge they sparked in him to build a connection to his child, in direct counterpoint to that which a captured British Major had spurned.

John cast a concerned glance at his sleeping friend, clearly recalling the combined effort between himself, Lafayette and the General to see Alexander just intoxicated enough to seek sleep willingly, and to not protest overmuch when the other three sought to lead him to his bed. He's not certain Alexander would've recognized the look in the General's eyes, being fairly well assured that his friend had been deprived of all paternal affection in childhood, but John knew what that look meant. Washington wanted nothing more than to care for the young man he'd quickly come to see as a son, even moreso than before in the light of James Hamilton's crimes against the children in his care.

For once, Alexander's sleep seemed peaceful, though for the sake of his pride, John almost hoped that he would not remember the General tucking him in as though he were a small child. That said, being covered with the General's own cape is a rather significant reminder. Laurens did not envy Alexander the chaos of his life to this point, and did not see his friend's life getting any easier in his future endeavors. John planned to support him nonetheless, hopefully while untangling the thorny vines of his own life at the same time.

Washington sat with a relatively small stack of correspondence in the privacy of his personal quarters, his beloved Martha sitting in the chair opposite him, in the beginning stages of a new project. George had no doubt it was a pair of socks or gloves for one of his aides, as she routinely did all she could to ensure their welfare so that they, in turn, could ensure his.

Both Washingtons worked in quiet for a time, waiting in unspoken agreement for Billy Lee to complete his tasks and leave the room. When he had, it was Martha that spoke first. "George, I know you love that boy as a son, but I have a question for you, beloved. By what providence would he be able to accept your affection so long as we hold others in bondage as we now know his sister to be? While we both know certain families to easily tolerate such things, our Alexander is vehemently opposed to that mindset. I know you've long been conflicted on the issue of slavery, but it's rather come to the point where we must make a final decision on it."

George sighed and reached for his cup of tea. "The situation is worse than that, my dear, and though I am not normally inclined to summary execution… there is no doubt in my mind that James Hamilton would be deserving of such of thing, both for that which was revealed in public and that which Alexander revealed in more private confines. That he would behave in such a way to any child in his care, even if he might believe she is not his… I cannot understand such a thing. I do not want to understand such a thing. Though, in that tragedy, there is one bright point, at least, that eased Alexander's spirits somewhat."

Martha did not comment, but merely raised a brow in response. "Leah's his twin, younger by a matter of minutes. If she wasn't Hamilton's, then Alex need claim no connection for himself. I suspect if he had an easy way to be rid of the Hamilton name in any official sense, he'd take it. But that, though lighter, distracts from the question at hand. Slavery… in specific, those slaves who belong to us. I… Martha, I don't even know where to begin. There have been slaves around both of us since we were infants, working our fields, caring for our households. What we see as normal leaves us blind to all other possibilities. In truth, we may need other eyes on this situation than our own. That said, even if we instantly freed all the slaves that are within our power to free, that would still leave the dower slaves, in trust within our keeping for Jackie. Legally, they do not belong to us that we might free them… and Jackie… Jackie would not heed any advice of mine on the matter."

"George, dearest, if freedom is what we desire, for ourselves and for those we now own, distasteful as that term is swiftly becoming, then you may leave Jackie to me. Too long, he has known his future to be secure in what Daniel left for him, and has not sought to make any mark of his own. Allowing that was my failing, but though I love you dearly, I did miss Daniel, and had no wish to push away what was left of him by perhaps being too stern with Jackie and Patsy. I could only wish that the two of you had found some interest in common, but that was not to be with Jackie, though Patsy adored you. Were she among us still, and this decision hers to make… she would free them. 'If the choice is between taking a right action today and fearing the consequences tomorrow, do what is right today and let tomorrow see to itself. To do otherwise is to lack faith.'"

"Then they will be free, and I'll bring young Laurens in tomorrow morning for ideas on how exactly to see it done, as well as drawing in others he may recommend. I would like to extend the offer to stay – as freedmen occupying paid positions – to as many as may take it, so as to not leave Mt Vernon poorly defended and to give an example that neighbors may follow, though I don't hold much hope on the last."

Ona Judge walked all but unseen through the camp, the laundry basket in her arms giving her a ready excuse to be traveling between buildings and tents, even as it neared sunset. She'd already cast a curious eye to the aides' sleeping room, the door cracked open as most of the aides were off to dinner, and nothing much would be waking Colonel Hamilton any time soon. She'd watched him come to the bedroom on the arms of his friends, and figured he'd sleep sound enough tonight.

Like most of the camp, Ona had heard what had happened with the captured redcoats, and if she'd been tempted to set them free and steal away with them, she quickly stomped on those thoughts when she heard what the Major had done. He was no better than any Colonial master, and she'd not be trusting any word that came out of his mouth saying otherwise.

What had been said, though… explained a lot. Slaves were possessions, all but furniture until they were needed. If there was only a slave in a room, than there was no one in the room, because they didn't count. Not seen, nor heard, unless they were needed. They saw nothing and heard nothing unless the master addressed them… and yet, they saw and heard everything. To be underestimated, to be ignored, to hold knowledge that the masters didn't know they had… that was their power. There was nothing a master could do that one of his slaves would not know; there were no secrets that a master could keep even in his own home. Only his thoughts stayed his own, and the minute he spoke of them, his property knew.

She would've had to be blind not to see how Master George cared for Colonel Hamilton and how the younger man fought it; she was not. Nor was she stupid merely because the law declared she could not be taught to read; she knew he fought that care because he'd been too close to being a slave his own self to want to call a master 'father.'

Colonel Hamilton walked a fine line, Ona knew. He always saw them and always acknowledged them, though with a care to who else was in the room. For all that he'd never been a slave, he greeted them as one, always with an eye to the location of the master. When Master George or Miss Martha's in the room, he waits until they can't see and then nods. He treats us like people, but in a way that won't get us in trouble. She'd seen him do the same with other slaves in the camp, strangely quiet for a man that didn't seem to know the meaning of word. There was respect in every greeting, a silent 'I see you, you're a person, you matter. You are not invisible; you are important.'

And now, because Master George loved this young Colonel who saw them, and who'd been within a breath of feeling the chains lock down on him… because he loved this observant man-child who believed so deeply that people were not property… maybe there would be no need to run. Maybe she could be free without being hunted. Maybe, a father's love for a son would be the first step leading to something better for everybody.