Let Me Be a Part of the Narrative

There are Moments That the Words Don't Reach

This one hurt to write. On a happier note, the first chapter of that Hamilton Watches Hamilton fanfiction was uploaded! The ships are Hamliza and Jeggy, so if you want more Jeggy, you can head over there. Anyway, this chapter was very...fun to write.

"Margarita, when will you find yourself a husband?" Phillip Schuyler glared at his youngest daughter, who only just managed to stay looking neutral. "Your older sisters have already married happily, and Eliza even has a child. You have lived far too long in my home."

Peggy clenched her fists under the c table, though it was unladylike. She already had someone who would marry her, they were only waiting until the war was done. Of course, she couldn't just announce that. She was loyal to what John wished. "The time simply isn't right father." Still, it had been so long since the last letter... "I assure you I will find the love you wish for me." Her heart clenched.
John hadn't sent her a letter in many weeks. It has been so long Peggy feared he lost interest in her.

Phillip banged a fist on the table. "That is not good enough! You are plenty old enough to marry! You-" Catherine Schuyler placed her hand on her husband's.

"Darling, maybe you should wait to have this conversation. It is getting late. You know Margarita has some letters to reply to." Peggy nods, hoping her father would listen. It wasn't like she enjoyed replying to those seeking her hand, but it served as a way to hide her letters to John.

Resigned, the Schuyler father sighed. "Fine, but you must be writing to your admirers, Margarita. No more of whatever it is you do besides that." Peggy usually was reading John's letters in secret, but no one needed to know that. Silently, she nodded and left to her room.

Usually, Peggy's room would be somewhat neat, her desk being the messiest area, but it was currently neat as Eliza's empty one. Her father must've asked some of the poor slaves to clean it up. Honestly, it was her mess to clean up, not any of theirs. The sun lit up the room happily, like a promise that everything would be alright.

On the desk was a pile of letters. Searching through them diligently, Peggy found that none of them were from the only man she truly wanted to hear from, John Laurens. The disappointment she had become used to only grew. "What happened to you, John?" She whispered to the air. The only response was a breeze flowing in through the window. "I miss you."

"Miss. Schuyler?" Asked a timid voice behind Peggy. She turned to see one of the maids, Adelaide maybe, holding a letter in her small hands. "You have a letter."

Greedily, Peggy snatched it from her hands. "You may go." The maid left, closing the door behind her. The letter was gold in Peggy's mind, as she was sure it was from her lovely John. Her star. Except, as she flipped it to read the name... "Henry Laurens?"

Henry Laurens was John's father, someone who shouldn't know about Peggy. Although it felt like jumping to a conclusion, her blood ran cold. Would John's father be sending a letter to say he disapproved? Or worse, that the war became too great a battle...

No. Peggy refused to think those thoughts unless she was explicitly stated or shown. With shaking hands, she unfolded the letter.

Margarita Schuyler,

I have no recollection of hearing your name in my home, nor do I recall my son ever sending letters about you, but you have been listed as one of The people to hear news when it comes.

On Tuesday the 27th my son perished in a gunfight in South Carolina. These troops had not received notice that the war had ended. He is buried there currently, as I have not sent for his remains.

As you may know, my son was engaged in recruiting three thousand men for the first all black military regiment. The surviving members of this regiment have been returned to their masters.

Miss. Schuyler, though my son had not told me of how you two know each other, he instructed me to send you the enclosed letter. You are the only person other than his immediate family he has done so for. My son cared deeply for you, and I hope you feel the same towards him.

Henry Laurens

The world seemed to stop, all noise and light and warmth leaving. Peggy's hearted stopped, and she couldn't breathe.

This couldn't be happening.

John couldn't...

John couldn't be...

Peggy wouldn't believe it. Sure the letters stopped being sent, but that didn't have to mean he was gone! She searched the letter Henry sent for some sort of joke. A sign that this was all part of keeping their relationship a secret, but she found nothing.

This house was too hot, too stuffy, too small. Before Peggy knew what was happening, her shirt as firmly clutched in her hands and she was running. Running away from those letters, from that place, somewhere she could be in peace.

The sun continued to shine when she burst outside, but it wasn't happy, nor a promise. Peggy ran through the garden, searching for some shade to hide in. This place was too beautiful, too happy. Nothing should be happy or beautiful, it should be grey and dead and gone.

Despite Peggy's thoughts, everything was as beautiful as ever, but it was empty. The way the light filtered through the leaves of trees, which she had found mezmerizing were like tiny spotlights showing her every fault. The flowers were all just that, never be to be seen as something to give to those you love.

Wet tears flowed down Peggy's cheeks, and she sat under a tree. The ground was wet and muddy from fresh rain, and so cit stuck to her dress. A dress which John would never get to see. The sunliggt occasionally hit it, causing the otherwise green casual wear to turn a more yellow color. Turned yellow by the same sunshine John called her, Peggy thought bitterly.

In her hand, Peggy held the final letter John had sent her, from the letter his father had so graciously sent. She didn't want to read it, for she knew that John being...gone would become a reality. Despite this, Peggy was desperate to read his words once more, to imagine his voice again. Hands saking, she unfolded the letter.

My Dearest, Peggy,

This letter shall reach you if my time on Earth has ended and I have departed to wherever death shall take me.

First and foremost, I would like to apologise for the anguish I will be causing you. You, dearest Peggy, deserve someone who you should be able to put trust in that he will not put himself on the line in war. I wish I could give you that man.

Every day, I fight for you and your freedom, my sunshine. With my death you will be closer to freedom. Fight for your rights and for those you love, dearest. Your mind is as sharp as the knives we use and you are as feirce as a lion.

From the moment I first layed eyes on you my heart skipped a beat and I found myself utterly helpless. Your light, my sunshine, has brought pure sunshine to my life. I know with my passing, you will be heartbroken, but I beg you find another who will help you on your path to build this nation, and I beg you find a man who you truly love.
Be strong, my sunshine.

Forever yours, John.

Tears again flowed down Peggy's cheeks. Why couldn't she and John just have a life where they could be together? Why couldn't she get the man she loved, who loved her back? It was almost comically sad when clouds starting rolling in promising rain.

Peggy reread each sentence of the letter. Why would John tell her to look for new love? She didn't know if she wanted to even look for that when she couldn't have him.

Even so, John Laurens died for Peggy's freedom, she knew this well. There was no possible way she could let him die in vain.

That day in the garden, Peggy made a promise to herself. She would find new love, build this nation, make lives better, all for John. He gave her the possibility of a free life, and Peggy would not throw away her shot.