Our Little Secret ||Historical Lams Oneshots||

The Letter (Part 2)

(John)

(a few days later)
I sat at my small wooden desk, my candle's wax slowly crawling down the side. I was finished with my letter to Alexander- oh, how I wished I could work up the courage to send it! I scanned over the paper for nearly the tenth time.

Dearest Alexander,
I yearn for your presence here in Charleston. My heart aches at the prospect of you being so far away, but I know that I shall be seeing you soon! I would now like to rewrite this, seeing as I have already given away the secret.
I must confess- it was a simple task to set my affections upon you. You with your open heart and the emotions you believe you hide so well. Oh, my dear boy, how I've wished to comfort you during these times I have been away.
Now I must admit to myself the possibility of you not returning my sentiments. My mind is telling me that it is quite possible you do not feel the same way about me as I do you, and I shall try, every way within my power, to respect that and not make any more declarations of affection upon you.
Until I see you again, my dear boy,
Forever yours,
John Laurens
(not too shabby if I do say so myself)

I was just about to blow out my small candle flame when I heard a knock on the door of the home I was lodging in. I stood up, candle in hand, and pulled it open. A young boy with nut-brown hair and green eyes stood outside. He was shivering and held the reins of a horse in one hand and a folded piece of paper in the other.

"I have a letter for a Mr. John Laurens." he said.

"I am John Laurens," I replied. "Come in, please." He shook his head. "I'm sorry, sir, but I must be heading home soon..." he argued.

"You're wet," I observed. "Let me at least get you in front of a fire so you don't catch a cold." He didn't contradict me, just handed me the letter and came inside after tying his horse up. I smiled as I saw that the letter was from Alexander. I started up the fire stuck my writings inside of a book so it wasn't discovered. The boy sat on the rug in front of the fire, and I noticed him relax a bit.

"What's your name?" I asked him.

"Nathaniel Darwin." he answered without turning his head.

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen, sir. I'll be eighteen in a month."

I let out a low whistle. This seventeen-year-old came all the way from New Jersey, and it must've rained at some point. "Did you come all this way by yourself?" I asked. He nodded. I didn't ask any more questions, and proceeded to open Alexander's letter.

My dearest Laurens,
Cold in my professions, warm in my friendships, I wish, my Dear Laurens, that it might be in my power, by actions rather than words, to convince you that I love you.

He- he's loved me this whole time? I felt a blush rise up my cheeks.

I shall only tell you that 'till you bade us Adieu, I hardly knew the value you had taught my heart to set upon you. Indeed, my friend, it was not well done. You know the opinion I entertain of mankind, and how much it is my desire to preserve myself free from particular attachments, and to keep my happiness independent on the caprice of others.

My blush deepened as I continued with the heartfelt letter. "You're awfully happy," remarked Nathaniel. "Something good happen?"

"No, not anything in particular." Lies.

You should not have taken advantage of my sensibility to steal into my affections without my consent. But as you have done it and as we are generally indulgent to those we love, I shall not scruple to pardon the fraud which you have committed, on condition that for my sake, if not your own, you will always continue to merit the partiality, which you have so artfully instilled into me.
Yours,
A. Hamilton

I felt dizzy. I sat back down onto my chair, my hand unconsciously rising up to my heated face. "I'll be going now, sir," Nathaniel said suddenly. "Thank you." I looked up.

"Ah, yes, farewell, Nathaniel," I said. "Safe travels." He nodded in response and left.

I went back to admiring the confession of the man I love. The man I was writing a confession to. It's almost too good to be true, that he would know just what I wanted to say but couldn't work up the courage to. Of course Alex, with his reckless persona and ability to not care what others think, would be able to state this so clearly.

My face burned as I studied the words again. I still couldn't believe what I was reading. I stayed up for hours by my dying candle, scanning the paper over and over until the light burned out.

I slept soundly that night, with Alexander's letter under my pillow and his beautiful face in my mind.