The Seekers by John Jakes

country. His house, turned over to the president and first lady for their own use, was a magnificent three-story brick mansion. In it, people said, everything glittered, as befitted an American Midas. The lamp fixtures outside glittered; the furniture and mahogany woodwork glittered; the largest brass door-hinge and the smallest bit of brass cabinet hardware glittered. It was no wonder the entire Kent family was in a state of nerves when their carriage pulled up in front of the Morris house at the appointed hour.
    With obvious trepidation, Peggy remarked on the presence of half a dozen even more sumptuous coaches, and many servants lounging around them. Even Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled at the sight.
    Elizabeth had dressed with special care, as they all had. Her gown of white brocade silk shimmered in the mild sunlight of the spring afternoon. In her excitement, she stumbled going up the walk, losing one of her silver-embroidered high-heeled shoes, which Abraham gallantly retrieved.
    Servants ushered the visitors into the parlor. Abraham’s nervousness grew as the elegantly groomed guests, a dozen ladies and gentlemen, turned toward the newcomers.
    The aging president approached the Kents, a small, plump woman at his side. Martha Washington exchanged curtsys with Peggy and Elizabeth while the tall Virginian who preferred Mount Vernon to Philadelphia greeted Philip and his party with impeccable politeness.
    “I’m honored to welcome so distinguished a family, Mr. Kent. When General Knox wrote that you planned a tour, I decided we must surely meet—for social as well as for somewhat more practical reasons.”
    Washington, Abraham noticed, had an odd, rigid smile. Except when speaking, he kept his lips compressed. The gossipmongers said this was to hide false teeth that fit poorly, causing him continual discomfort. According to Supply Pleasant, a New York dentist had carved the president’s dentures out of hippopotamus ivory, the same material Revere had used for Philip’s false tooth. Washington’s were reportedly attached to metal bars that gouged his gums and lent his lower face a swollen look.
    Philip said, “The honor is entirely ours, Mr. President.”
    “Come, let me present you to the rest of the gathering,” Washington said. His lips parted sufficiently for Abraham to see that something—wine or tea—had badly blackened the artificial teeth.
    Among men who were taller than he, Philip always seemed to stand more erect. That was the case now. His limp was hardly noticeable as he walked at Washington’s side.
    Abraham and the others met Robert Morris and his wife, then the tubby vice president, John Adams, and his wife Abigail. Philip and Adams reminisced briefly about their long acquaintance; it had begun in Boston, before the Revolution.
    The famous Philadelphia socialite and beauty, Mrs. Bingham, was presented next. She graciously drew Peggy and Elizabeth into conversation after apologizing that her wealthy husband was indisposed.
    Servants brought in refreshments—tea, port and trays of sweet little cakes. Before long, the gentlemen were gathered in one group, the ladies in another. The president led Philip and the others to a large, ornate key which hung on one wall of the parlor.
    “I’m reminded that you are a good friend of the Marquis de Lafayette, Mr. Kent.”
    Philip didn’t seem the least overawed by the towering president. Giving a crisp nod, he replied, “Perhaps you also recall we met when we were quite young, in our native province of Auvergne, in France.”
    Washington nodded. Then his gaze turned toward the great key. “My sympathies were with the revolutionaries for a time. As were those of our mutual friend.” He gestured. “That is the key to the Bastille. Lafayette obtained it the day that evil fortress was destroyed, and later sent it to me.”
    “I understand the marquis is being reasonably well treated in prison,” Philip said.
    “Yes, so I’ve heard. But his circumstances