Mr Jefferson is Coming Home (Jamilton)

Chapter 10

Knock, knock, knock.

"Alexander," his wife called him from downstairs, "there's a messenger here for you." After a few seconds, her round face peeked from the door of his study. "He says he's got important documents that have to be handed directly to you," she added, lowering the volume, and went in her room.

Alexander whiffled lightly, he didn't like to be interrupted while working, and stood up to go and fetch those damned documents. Right before the entrance, a young boy was holding a small package and a note in his hands, waiting for him to personally take them. Hamilton looked suspiciously at the box – wasn't it too little for documents? – and took the note from the boy's hands. He recognised the calligraphy at once and quickly grabbed the package, thanked the messenger and went upstairs, climbing two stairs at a time.

I hope this will receive more appreciation than my last culinary masterpiece.

Alexander read the note twice – it couldn't be Jefferson, right? He hadn't spoken to him in ages. They were almost as strangers as they had been before their first meeting. That couldn't be right... could it?

He slowly opened the package, gently removing the twine and uncovering the content: it was – what was it? Three fluffy squared things had been piled in what Hamilton then discovered to be a very expensive fabric, with Jefferson's initials elegantly embroidered in a corner. He tasted a very small bite from one of those things – it was sweet...ish – oh god, it was delicious! Alexander ate the three strange cakes in a blink and then looked at the cloth again, while licking his fingers – should he return it to Jefferson? He didn't want to, but if that would mean seeing Thomas again, then there were no other choices. He quickly grabbed his coat and rushed to the door.

"Alexander, where are you going? Supper's almost ready," Eliza tried to call after him.

"M'not hungry!" he yelled back, striding out of the house.

"Well, at least take an umbrella with you, it's raining outside –"

But her voice echoed in the empty hall. She looked sadly at him through the window pane before closing the curtains with an angry move – her Alexander was more and more distant and she didn't know what to do.

***

In less than fifteen minutes, regardless being completely wet, Alexander knocked at Jefferson's door, wondering if he'd waken up so happy that morning, or if his mood had changed in the last half an hour. The maid peeped from the window before opening the door – gosh, it seemed he'd really scared her last time – and didn't try to block him when he entered the room uninvited. She looked concerned at the small puddle that was spreading at his feet and the water dripping from his clothes, but, in the end, she just pointed quietly at one door on the other end of the house and went to search something to mop the floor. Alexander softly walked in, trying not to disturb the perfect stillness of the room. At first he saw no one, but then he noticed that there was another door slightly open, from where the noise of the pouring rain entered the room. Alex opened the door to found himself on a wide porch, surrounded by a huge and luxuriant garden, in the back side of the house. Jefferson was sitting in a armchair whose seat back was so high it looked like a throne, except for the colour – it was covered in dark green fabric, decorated with golden doodles. He was reading a thick book, his concentrated face partially covered by his curly hair, while a pair of silver reading glasses made his countenance very serious – and definitely cute.

"Ahem," Hamilton cleared his throat to announce his presence.

"Alexander," Jefferson looked up from his book and smiled genuinely, "that's new – not hearing you when you're less than a mile close," he joked.