starry eyes

TWENTY-ONE

August 17th, 1770

The day has been a most eventful one.

Is it appropriate, I wonder, to deem the day eventful when I've just as little time for leisure every other day of the week? In fact, since Boston saw its altercation back in March, I've less time to spare than ever.

Between my meetings with Miss Abigail Adams four days a week and maintaining the orderliness of my personal affairs, I feel leisure has become to me an abstraction; something reserved for the resolution of a cause that is not yet within my reach.

Ah, but I feel myself straying from the topic! On why my day was eventful: You see, I received an unexpected visitor this afternoon. My dear sister, Alice, sailed in this morning... A visit which, I must admit, I was not at all prepared for.

I had arrived home from the bakery, expecting to spend the remainder of my day locked away in my office, seeing to my various correspondences that, for much too long, have awaited replies.

Immersed as entirely in thoughts of how I might respond to Alfred's last letter, in which he requests my company in Manhattan, I failed to notice Alice's presence in the kitchen until, from behind me, she quite raucously cleared her throat.

Standing as I was at the counter, peering out the window at the passing carriages, I was shocked by her appearance on a number of levels... The most apparent also being the most immediate.

My heart must have ceased beating for the panic that gripped my body as I spun around, prepared to find myself face-to-face with the worst possible scenario.

Locking unto Alice, realizing that I was in no real danger, was similar in sensation to the waring away of the initial effects of alcohol. Titillating still, but tinged by dismay.

"Alice! My God! How did you get in here?" I was clutching my heart.

With her back as stiff as stone, and her arms folded neatly over her chest, she looked then as she always does: impatient, exasperated... And, so I thought, a little furious.

"Oh, contain yourself, Amelia. You must have been expecting me at some point."

"Not at my house! Or in my kitchen, for that matter!"

Embarrassed at how easily she had been able to scared me into a frenzy, I pretended to busy myself with brushing off my gown. Little by little, my heart slowed and fell back into its regular rhythm.

"I didn't know you were coming," I explained at last.

Having mostly recovered, a rush of that childish affection I held for her- that, to a certain extent, I still hold for her- went flooding through my veins. I made to embrace her, a gesture she was only able to resist for so long before melting into it.

"Yes, yes," she sighed, giving my back a couple of awkward pats. "It's nice to see you as well. But my dropping in is not without reason."

In complete honesty, I don't think I wanted the hug to end. Beneath the briny scent of the ocean and the latest perfume she's branding, she smells as she always has of my childhood. Of familiarity and certainty and stories before bed.

But, as I knew I had to, I eventually unwound my arms from around her.

"Is it ever?" At last came my response.

She was peering up into my face, her own expression mellowed out by a sort of reluctance.

I think I knew what her business was with me from the start. Or at least part of it. I also think it might have briefly slipped her mind in the mawkishness of our hug.

"Amelia...  We need to talk about what happened back in March. The Incident on King Street?"

Almost without thinking, I turned my back on her. "You know as well as I do that the revolts are more Alfred's doing than mine."

I had known that this would be brought up eventually... I had just hoped it would be in some form of writing; perhaps a letter, or a British news-clipping passive-aggressively attached to the back of a letter. Not as a face-to-face conversation.

Swallowing what I could of my apprehension, I pretended to focus my energy on finding a place to store the bread.

"Yes, and Arthur will deal with him in his own time. But I didn't sail all the way across the ocean to talk about Alfred, Amelia. This is about you, and what part you're playing in all of this."

I couldn't repress a terse laugh. "You're assuming I have anything at all to do with it?"

"Oh, I need assume nothing."

There was a crumpling noise behind me, that of a paper being unfolded.

"...and that, in the instance warfare does break between myself and the Kingdom of England, you shall send aid in the form of guns, ships, and manpower. No promises can be made in reference to the victory of an uprising which has yet to be ignited, but reciprocation-"

As she read out the words to me, I felt my breath catch in my throat. These were lines straight out of the last letter I had sent to France. Had he gone so low as to resort to the surrender of our exchange to England, I wondered?

Having forgotten my bread, I turned so that I was facing her. She stood, reading from the parchment as solemnly as a churchboy from the Bible. She spared me the torment of the rest of the letter, stopping instead after a few more lines. When she was finished, she looked at me without saying a word.

"Did France hand that over to you?" I quietly asked.

She didn't blink. "Let's just say you needn't worry about how this fell into my hands so much as why it exists at all. Amelia, what are you thinking?"

I was cornered. There was nowhere to go except headfirst into the trap which had been set for me.

"Perhaps I was thinking that I'd like some kind of representation before you throw taxes and- and ridiculous rules in my face!"

"There's no need to raise your voice at me. It's unseemly, especially for a young lady. Now, I'm not here to bombard you with accusations. I have been granted permission from the king himself to remain here for as long as I feel necessary. We're going to take this one day at a time, you and I. Because clearly we're not seeing eye-to-eye on some matters."

I couldn't stop myself. I burst out, "You don't care about seeing eye-to-eye with me! If you did, you'd allow me some form of representation in-"

"Amelia Jones!" Her voice was a deep, scolding bark that deemed me silent at once. She slammed her hand down on the edge of the counter and clutched it as though for dear life.

"You will do as I say without being difficult. You don't understand your own irresponsibility, or the utter disrespect you have shown to the Crown! I'm to be staying with you until I feel you understand the error of your ways, and you can take any complaints you may have up with the king himself!"

I write these final words by the dwindling flame of my candle. Alice sleeps at this very moment in the next room over.

With all the information I keep in my office, I fear for the people and efforts that have already been put towards this cause.

Tomorrow, when first I get the chance, I will find somewhere to hide my most vital correspondences.

It seems I may soon have to find a new place to write.

[ I HAVE BEEN WANTING TO DO THIS AU FOR SO LONG. I'M REALLY EXCITED, ACTUALLY. A LITTLE NERVOUS BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO MESS ANYTHING UP. IT'S 4 A.M. WHICH MEANS I JUST SPENT THE LAST SIX HOURS OF MY LIFE WRITING THIS DIARY ENTRY. ]