My Dearest, [ Alexander Hamilton | Reader ]

• Chapter Sixteen •

[A year has passed since the last chapter, in case any confusion arose. It's around the end of December, 1783. Hamilton has not yet been appointed Treasury, and will not until 1789.]

...

There she stood, elegant fingers grazing the balcony's railing. A soft breeze going through her [Hair color] locks, her lip corners downwards forming a soft frown. There was an unpleasant feeling in the back of her throat, slight nausea. Despite the chilly weather, she felt nothing but a warm sensation like the sun had not been covered by the clouds. She would much prefer to spend the days outdoors due to the sudden rise in her temperature. It was far too stuffy inside the house.

A hand was placed upon her shoulders. Her muscles momentarily tense before melting at his tender familiarity. The frown was no more instead, replaced with a soft smile as his head leaded upon hers. Although they spent little to no time together, when the did, it filled her with an indescribable feeling. His head leaned upon hers, his loose strands of hair occasionally tickled her soft cheeks.

"Where's Philip, my love?"

She asked, her voice almost a whisper as exhaustion consumed her. Sleep had been a delicacy the last few weeks, she'd wake at the strangest of hours with no reason. Philip would still be fast asleep in his cot, Alexander was out of question as he'd spend the nights inside the study-room. It was always just her.

"Resting, do not worry. I did notice he gave me the most peculiar look before drifting to sleep, such a joy he is. He'll grow to be something brilliant, I have always been one for the judgement of people."

He reached outward for her dainty hand, his hand slightly grazing the band upon her finger. A truly beautiful band it was. Although it would be seen as simple, it meant everything to her. It was a gold band with a strange design in the back, engraved was their names. It was in a distinct cursive writing, she could only assume it was his own.

Upon gripping her hand, he turned her to face him admiring the perfection that stood before him. A hand trailed up to her cheek, he slightly retracted, a worried expression overtook his loving smile. She immediately noticed this, a slight furrowing in her brows began.

"Is something wrong?"

"Your cheeks are rather heated... Are you ill? Shall I call a doctor?"

"Heated? No– There hasn't been anything that I know of, doctors will not be necessary. I do appreciate your concern though, dear."

She grew more confused by the second, she knew nothing of her cheeks being exceedingly warm. She, in disbelief, pressed her own hand upon cheek. She would occasionally move to her forehead. Although it was rather warm, she felt nothing to note.

"Come now, love! Your health should not be taken so lightly. I insist! I'll make my trip now, I hope to be back before the sun sets."

With that, Alexander rushed for his coat, not bothering to listen to her protest. She sighed, there would be no convincing him to back down. A persistent character he was. She watched as he left through the door, her hand grasped upon the frame. [Eye Color] hues following him until he no longer was in sight. All that could be done was to wait.

...

A little less than an hour passed, Alexander returned with an older man, a known face from the times visited to see Philip. She greeted the doctor with hospitality as she would with anyone, the three seating themselves. They would continue conversing on the topic of health.

"You seem not to have any signs of illness however, it could be that you're showing early signs of a possible pregnancy."

Her breath met a temporary pause, a sight widening of her orbs occurred. She toned the doctor out, her mind going to thought. It couldn't be, they hardly had room for one child, another would be too much. Her palms began to sweat, she rubbed them upon her gown before she glanced up at the two. Alexander too, held a expression. It wasn't easily identified but, she knew it'd result in a discussion.

"It is possible, yes. Would there be any way to for guarantee such a theory?"

She asked after moments in silence, her gaze was nowhere in particular. A nervous habit of hers, she never did do well with all attention directed to her. Her hands traced across the dresses' ruffled fabric as she waited for the response. Being a mother was not something she'd expected doing, most lives were ended during labor. She feared death, far more than anything.

"Seeming as you have nothing to show, it will not be possible. It is a mere theory as most women whom are deemed pregnant experience a rise in temperature which seems to be happening to you as you show no signs of illness."

"I thank you for spending the time with us. It's gotten quite dark, we'd hate to keep you too long."

She smiled, rising from the sofa. The two followed after, the general curtsy and bowing was done and the doctor was off into the streets of New York. The two watched as he left before she shut the door. Her dainty hand still lingering upon the knob.

"Could it be that... you're pregnant?"

"It is a possibility, Alexander. As the medic said, it would be far to early to tell."

"Then, I'll wait. Yes, I'll wait as long as I have to know! We could... We could see one of those urinary examiners!"

( The proper term for them would be "Piss Prophets" but, that sound far too informal to include in the story. )

"It'd prefer a more practical way, and a perhaps less embarrassing way, my love."

...

It'd been perhaps a month or so, time hadn't been tracked. She waited anxiously, pacing to and fro until a unusually elated Margarita came forth from wooden door, a tight lipped smile gracing her features. She immediately sought after [Your Name]'s hands, she gave a squeeze once they were in her grasp.

"They've sprouted!"

"Sprouted? Which ones?"

"The wheat!"

As if Margarita's happiness was a contagious illness, she soon held a similar smile. It was as if all her worries had gone, it wasn't unexpected though. Margarita held the power to make even the coldest of men smile, witty she was. Replacing the anxiety was a sense of giddiness.

"Does that mean—"

"Yes!"

"I must– I must inform Alexander. I bid you farewell, Margarita."

"I've told you to address me as Peggy, we've known each other for quite some time now. There's no need for such formalities, dear friend."

[Your Name] gave a slight nod to her friend, bobbing a curtsy before departing from her beloved friend's home. She walked throughout the streets, catching a carriage which took her to the front of the familiar house. She entered immediately being greeted by a rushing Philip who clung to the fabric of her dress. She bent over picking the child up, walking to Alexander's study room.

She quietly entered, walking to where he would spend most of his days at. That dreadful old wooden chair. She placed a hand upon his shoulder which caused him to turn unveiling his tired face. She gave a small smile to which he returned.

"I must tell you something, love. It's something you've been eager to know."

"What would that be?"

"You've forgotten haven't you?"

Alexander took perhaps minutes to ponder, his eyes moving off around the room. Upon realizing the news, he gave an uncertain look which she immediately recognized as she nodded. He quickly stood from the desk, placing his hands upon her stomach. He looked up to her once more before their lips were connected for a brief moment.

...

[ Clarification from the previous mention earlier on the wheat, this was one of the earliest methods to predict pregnancy. It dates back to Ancient Egypt. A women would take both wheat and barley and over the course of seven days, urinate on them. If the wheat sprouted, the child was to be a girl. If the barley sprouted, the child was to be a boy. This method was tested in the 90s' and was fairly accurate as it predicted 70%. I absolutely enjoyed researching this as it is a rather intriguing subject. ]