Dear, Hamilton

Angelica? More like Anhelpfula

The next morning, I feel bone tired. It's an effort to haul myself out of bed and change into one of Angelica's emerald green dresses she'd outgrown. But then I feel nauseated, forcing me to sprint to the bathroom so I can throw up into the chamber pot instead of onto my bedroom floor.

How can I possibly endure seven more months of this? 

When I finally manage to gather myself together, I head towards the drawing room, where I find Angelica sitting in one of the armchairs, embroidering. I give her a smile in greeting as I sink down into the other armchair across from her like a cat with my legs hanging over one of the armrest and my back pressed against the other armrest. 

Angelica lifts a brow as she asks, "Eliza, are you okay? You've seemed pretty sick lately."

"Have I?" I respond in a voice that I hope sounds casual and carefree because I'm not going to go and announce, "Oh, why yes I am kind of sick because guess what? I'm pregnant!"

Angelica nods solemnly and remarks, "I thought I heard you throwing up this morning, but I'm not really sure. I might have misheard." Her eyes search mine beseechingly, as if hoping I'll confide in her.

I make a mental note to throw up quieter and to maybe go use another bathroom so she can't hear me. "No, I wasn't throwing up. I think you might have been hearing John snoring." 

I give her a teasing smile that I hope sells my lie. Angelica casts me an incredulous look at this, and I can't help but laugh at her expression.

"What?" I exclaim with a smile as I fold my arms comfortably on my stomach. "He does snore. Even I can hear him from my room across the hall."

Angelica smiles a little as she admits, "He does snore a little, doesn't he?" We both nod at each other before we burst into laughter. But then Angelica sombers up rather quickly and tells me, "Well, if you need to tell me anything, Eliza, don't hesitate."

I nod as if I'm actually cataloging her offer for later. "Thanks, Angelica," I tell her, and she gives me a small smile.

"Of course. That's what sisters are for."

For the rest of the day, Angelica's words ring throughout my head insistently. Does she suspect the truth? Why else would she say such a thing? It seemed to me to be a pointed remark. I mean, it wouldn't be hard for her to figure out the truth since she went through the same thing. Should I confide in her? Maybe she could help me deal with the nausea or tiredness.

I quickly shut down this idea. I'll tell her when I'm ready to tell her. After all, when she was pregnant, she didn't tell me until after Peggy blurted it out that one terrifying night. Therefore, she can't fault me for not telling her.

My internal conflict settled, I stay in my room for most of the day. Several times I sit at my desk with a pen in hand, staring at the blank sheet of parchment in front of me, wondering how I should break the news to Hamilton.

I write several drafts, including,

Dear Hamilton,

So, guess what? I'm pregnant!

(that draft was mainly a joke) And:

Dear Hamilton,

I didn't want to tell you until I was absolutely sure, but it's definite. I'm pregnant with your child!

But then that sounded too formal and weird, so I crumpled that draft up before balling up the rest in my hands. The whole 'your child' thing seems weird. Last I checked, it's our child.