What's in a Name?

April, 1784, Thomas Jefferson’s Monticello, Charlottesville, Virginia

“The master of the house should return later today according to the itinerary he discussed with us last month.”

Lauralynn Catherine Scott-MacGregor had arrived at Monticello, the home of Thomas Jefferson, at dawn, on a brisk, aroma-filled, springtime-enrobed morning in early April. Her carriage, hired by the best that Williamsburg had to offer, had been cramped, but it was worth the journey, the dusty roads, the burly innkeepers, her cornflower hoop skirt and the honor due to her husband, Dr William Small. Dr Small had been Thomas Jefferson’s professor and mentor whilst Jefferson was a student at the College of William and Mary in Williamsburg, Virginia. Small fled to England shortly after Jefferson was a student at the college; and, whilst the two remained in touch, the relationship was never the same once they were parted. The discussions with renowned (and local) lawyer George Wythe and the then-governor of the colonies, Governor Fauquier, as well as Jefferson and Small ceased, and with that, was a bit of a strain amongst all of the four. Surely, there were letters. However, Small disappeared from any correspondence and one might argue, memory, once he became ensconced in his new home in Birmingham, England, amongst the Lunar Society Men, a group that both led the Industrial Revolution with their revolutionary, advanced experiments and which was guided by the light of the full moon each month in their course to effect said revolution.

Lauralynn was now at Monticello to rectify and to try to re-forge that relationship with Dr Small. Despite a dearth of letters from Small, Small continued his experiments and work in England but had secretly fled to Paris to begin a new life there. For all intents and purposes, Small was no more. He had married and re-invented himself – with different Scots and French surnames – as an essential scientist within Parisian society.

And that was where Lauralynn came in. Her cousin, Walter Scott, was a young novelist living and writing in Paris. Lauralynn was on a tour around Europe with her family when she met Dr Small in the Tuileries. Well, correction, he was Dr MacGregor. Dr MacGregor had enlisted her cousin Walter to assist with some clockmaking work as well as the write-up and analysis of this work (that, apparently, he was doing for the king and his court). Scott had obliged and, by happenstance, he brought Lauralynn along. But it was Lauralynn and William who made the most of this time together in Paris. So much so that a romance formed and blossomed – and William asked Lauralynn to become his wife. They were married in a small chapel in Normandy.

MacGregor (Small) was not oblivious to the increasing uproar and dissension amongst the third estate, but most of this could be quelled by the king and his soldiers. What was unknown to most in his circles was that MacGregor was a double-agent. Clockmaking was a disguise as much as was his physical appearance whenever he entered court at Versailles. Only the kings of England and France knew his identity. Clocks were commissioned by both courts to house secret messages that would be funneled from one country to another. Secret messages that would aid rescue groups to help rescue aristocrats from the clutches and threat of a growing mob in France. At this time, all was relatively calm in France, but there were embers.

Lauralynn was sent to bring Jefferson to France but was not to reveal the nature of the mission. ‘It will be in the note,’ her husband advised. ‘Once you arrive, please ask for Mr Jefferson. If he is not at home – and I presume he will not be – you will want to wait. Presumably, he will have staff that will offer you accommodation to stay overnight. Please do not reveal your connection to me until he has read the note. All will become clear then – and even more clear once he is in Paris. Lauralynn, my love, I beg of you to be careful,’ her husband had cautioned. He had kissed her passionately with a ‘Godspeed’ and the fervent hope that this particular journey be the most successful ever undertaken. Jefferson needed to be in France, her husband said. Immediately.

As Lauralynn reflected on her husband’s instructions, she could only imagine what danger William was facing, what danger Jefferson might face, and what his reaction might be to her as William’s wife. His reaction that his friend was, indeed, alive. That he was in Paris. And not for the reasons one would think. What was in the note? Hopefully, she would discover that along with Mr Jefferson. For, along with the note, was a box that her husband had sent with her. In it she was told was a large garnet, on a gold chain. The necklace belonged to Queen Marie Antoinette. Perhaps, Jefferson was being told to hide and keep the necklace safe, but why Lauralynn was sent halfway around the world for this mission she did not know.

Ruminating on this, the doors to the main hall opened, and a tall, well-dressed man, with reddish hair, muscular, and with a handsome face, made his very exuberant, very large entrance into the entry hall. He had just emerged from his own carriage. It was, it had to be, Thomas Jefferson. He stopped short when he saw Lauralynn.

“Well, my dear,” and Lauralynn stood. “Whom do I have the pleasure of meeting today?” The man was in the process of removing his coat. Handing said coat to his house steward, he turned, facing Lauralynn and bowed. “I am, Mr Thomas Jefferson.”

She was speechless as she met the man about whom she had heard so much from her husband. Thomas Jefferson was larger than life – both physically and figuratively. And she speculated, based on the gleam emanating from his green eyes, his intelligence was unmatched. She had to chuckle a bit to herself. From what she knew from William, that keen mental acuity, while partly innate, was undoubtedly honed by William, George Wythe and Governor Fauquier during Jefferson’s student days. But to matters at hand.

“Mr Jefferson, sir, my name is Lauralynn (she stopped short of revealing her connections) Catherine Scott-MacGregor.” She curtsied. “I bring you,” and she fished for the note from her reticule, “a note.” She paused, as she looked in his eyes. “And this box. From a dear friend.”

“A dear friend, indeed.” Jefferson smiled warmly and beckoned Lauralynn through the hall, while requesting his staff to make tea and prepare some biscuits. He held the note tightly in his right hand (now ungloved) and, once the two were seated in the parlor, and tea was served, Jefferson broke the red-embossed seal and proceeded to read – firstly, silently, and, then, aloud. To Lauralynn’s astonishment the mission was even more significant than she could have otherwise imagined. And her husband was in grave danger.

Dear Friend,

You no doubt recognize my handwriting, but I want to re-introduce myself after a long absence. I remember with fondness our multitude of evenings in Williamsburg, and I do, indeed, miss these experiences.

By now you have met my wife (yes, my wife) Lauralynn, whom I dearly love and had the unique fortune to meet in Paris and marry in a small, quaint town, with historical connections, in Normandy (which I know you would recognize from your lessons). I implored my wife to visit you and deliver this missive because my request is of the utmost secrecy and importance. My wife knows of the import but not the details (which you may share with her after you read this letter).

You see, I have been working and living in France for these last few years…and I have been working under the auspices of King George and King Louis (I know you are shocked, but please read on, my dear friend). Things are due to implode in Paris soon, I predict, and I am trying to help all I can to escape the country before there is a revolution from which we cannot return. And, I fear, my dear friend, that I might be caught in the fray. I recognize that you have friendly relations with the king and others in France. It is those others I am hoping you can please contact in letter, deed and in person to aid our network. I ask that you please to come to Paris and navigate the social and academic scenes to speak with those who can help arrange our earliest departures from this country. You should arrange to travel with the idea of your traveling as, say, Secretary of State. That would provide an excellent cover. And, my friend, as you love books a great deal, our communication, once you are here, will be at my favorite bookstore, the Red Poppy (owned by an American friend whom you and I know. Mr Franklin.). I will meet you there as a customer in three weeks hence. You will see passage for your trip in this letter. And, once you read this, please burn the rest of this letter. And I am grateful for your accommodating my wife and your escorting her back to Paris. And to keep her safe.

I am your friend as well as humble and obedient servant,

Dr William Small (MacGregor).

“Now,” Jefferson reacted, after having read the letter, “let us see what is in that box.” Lauralynn handed Jefferson a small, gold key. He set the letter aside for the moment and took the key to insert into the front of the box. Once having done so, he gingerly opened the lid and said nothing as he reviewed the contents. The garnet and gold necklace. He picked it up and ran it through his long, confident writing fingers. “Stunning,” he whispered.

“Whose is it?” Lauralynn asked, knowing full well what it could be and could mean.

Jefferson picked the letter back up again, and opened the bottom fold a fraction to reveal a postscript that was in a code that Jefferson quickly solved to read. “It is a code. And the code tells me that Queen Marie Antoinette, and her family, are planning to come to America. Well, it seems my friends in the French court finally want to see what all the fuss is about over here.” He smiled roguishly. “I wonder how they will find Williamsburg this time of year.”

“Do you think you can save them all? The Royal Family, I mean. And, of course, the others.” Lauralynn queried.

“I know I can. We have had plans in place since the Marquis de Lafayette graced our shores during our War for Independence. It seems, Madam Scott- MacGregor, I am leaving for France. Well, my goodness, what an eventful return home this has been.”

Lauralynn took a sip of her tea. “Indeed, Mr Jefferson, indeed.”

“So please tell me about Dr MacGregor. And about this bookstore.” He winked and took a bite of his raspberry biscuit and carrot pudding from his own French porcelain dish. He was delighted his love of and study of the French language and culture were being realized after years of dormancy. Delighted, indeed.

The End