(no subject)

[iniquiticity]

crying-of-lot-37 asked
greenhouses ask: lafayette arrives to mount vernon for the first time.

The war dragged. Lafayette had had an idea, which he was beginning to nurture, not unlike a flower. He had heard many rumors about the great general’s greenhouse. He had seen a number of very, very impressive greenhouses. But somehow, the general had demurred this honor, until it seemed he could no longer. So there was to be a ball in honor of the general in his estate, and he had insisted Lafayette come along. It seemed insane to think someone so wonderful enjoyed his company. But Washington did not have that kind of duplicity to him. He actually liked Lafayette. Lafayette had even looked at himself in the mirror and wondered if this was reality.

He rode in Washington’s carriage with him, elaborately painted with the violet. He had also taken the violet too. Washington’s eyes had gone so warm and soft, when he had made the proclamation to do so. Washington was reading letters. Lafayette stared at the window and looked at the hills and the greenery. This was a wonderful country. He thought about how to stay.

The carriage rolled to a stop. Lafayette sat up straight and bit the side of his mouth, lest he be too excited. A man opened the carriage door and took Washington’s hand and helped him out. Another man took Washington’s letters. A woman took Lafayette’s hand and indicated a horse for him.

A wide, sweeping entrance to a beautiful estate. Lush grasses and sun and little houses and, in the somewhat-distance, the main manor. Other buildings. A farm. A little wood.

“It is adequate,” Washington said, gently, a smile at the corner of his lip.

“I do not think the human eye was designed to view such magnificence,” he replied, softly.

“I do not require this flattery, my dear,” Washington replied, and he clucked his tongue, and indicated the direction with a tilt of his head.

“I thought – sir, I know that we have some arrangements, but – i had heard –”

Washington stopped and waited for him to foolishly stutter himself out.

“–your greenhouse, if it is not… impossible?”

Washington made a thoughtful noise at that. “I could,” he answered, “Although my greenhouse is not very impressive, while I am away; I would warn you that what you may see is a fraction of the usual display. It is quite pathetic, to be honest. I do not wish to offend you.”

“Offend me?” Lafayette replied, “You could never, sir. I would be pleased if you were to smear me with mud.”

Washington chuckled. “Enough. You win. The greenhouse then. That way.”

They came across a magnificent glass thing, bursting with green, trees clinging to the walls, flowers blooming. Lafayette stared.

“This … sir… this is …”

“I should have wait until after the war is over, I admit.”

“Your Excellency,” Lafayette said, as plainly as he could manage, “I have never seen something more beautiful in my life.”

Lafayette knew Washington was pretending not be pleased.