Just You Wait - Jamilton Story

3.

A strange first impression
1890

I arrive at 5h PM, for a total of approximately 10 hours of train. God was I tired, train are such a pain to be in, especially the low class of it. Luckily, Jefferson offered me to pay a part of the transportation cost, even if he didn't seem very happy about it. As I expected; I didn't sleep at all. I normally have a hard time falling into the arms of Morpheus, so I never had the pretension of thinking I would in a moving, full of sound, awfully uncomfortable vehicle. I wrote, read and eat and that's pretty much all.

At the train station I could see a full crowd of people, some waiting for their beloved one, some going out of the train like me; for work, to see their family, maybe to visit the state? There wasn't a lot to do in Virginia, in the contrary of New York, a town in which I became use to the variety of accent and culture you could come across. I felt a tap on my shoulder and turn around to see a tall gentleman.

"Pardon me, sir, are you Alexander Hamilton?" He asked with a politeness and seriousness I didn't expect.

"Oh! Yes, it's me," I slightly lift my hat as a greeting "May I ask who are you?"

"Obviously. My name is James Hemmings, I'm one of Mr. Jefferson's servant. He gave me the tasks of making sure you come home," He made an inclination of his head, greeting me in return.

"I see. Thank you! Are we walking to this said home?" He looked at me strangely.

"No, Mr. Hamilton."

He took my baggage, directed us to a bleue-ish carriage and opened the door.

"After you," he said. I smile to thank him. After a good 20 minutes of wait we were finally at "Monticello." We couldn't see the mansion at first; the terrain was surround by trees and walls, but when we finally could I was amazed. The architecture was something I wasn't use to, but the garden was even more impressive, too many places where was probably supposed to be flowers of different sort to decorate the place. Hemmings rush to the front door and opened it, letting me in. Another servant took my luggage. The entrance was majestic; two fancy stairs to the second floor and in the middle of it a hallway who gives a direct looked to a living room with a red couch. A chandelier was hanging from the ceiling. I was never in a house so fancy.

"Let me guide you to your room," Hemmings said.

"Aren't I supposed to meet Mr. Jefferson before?" I asked, inherently confused.

"Well, you see, sir, he isn't really the kind to greet his visitors and at this hour he must be with a friend of his, so I thought we could go and let you discover your room and after going to Jefferson's. Does it bother you, sir?"

"..oh! No, it's alright." Even while saying this I couldn't help but thought about Hemmings sentence; 'he isn't really the kind to greet his visitors'? What does that means? Any polite person with a bit of education knows that you have to greet someone if they come in your house. It's common sense.

Hemmings conducted us to my chamber; a relatively big room decorated in many nuances of blue. An open door frame was separating the bedroom side to a place with a desk; the wall weren't bleu this time but more of a green close to turquoise. The all was brought together with the bed; closely to the door frame was another open space who assemble the two side, putting the said bed in the middle of it. It could be reach from either side. A strange choice of placement who seems to come more of the practicality of it than of the beauty. It was way more than what I expected though.

"My colleague here will be in charge of unpacking your luggage," he pointed  at the other servant who took care of them when I enter the house. "We're now going to mister Jefferson's private room, and the dinner will be serve in one hour or so, is everything alright?"