(A/N: this is less hamilton the musical based, more actual historical figures based. But there's no real category for that haha. So that's why character descriptions will not match how the characters are portrayed in the play. I'll publish chapter 2 on request and I'll delete this if no one reads it)
Her sister had appeared tense as she laced up the wedding gown. Eliza noticed the way her fingers paused at every bow just slightly, how she refused to make eye contact with her even as they had discussed the ceremony. But more than that she could feel it, like a palpable presence in the room. She had always been closest to Angelica, closer than she felt to the rest of her siblings, and she knew it went both ways. As soon as they met eyes they could not only understand each other, but reflect the other's feelings as though they were her own. Even now, though she was happier than ever before on her wedding day, her head ached in response to her sister's tenseness.
When the dress was on and the veil was attached Angelica turned her around to face the mirror. In the unfamiliar gown she felt like a stranger, cloaked in white and lace. Her shoes were a pinch too small, but she only really needed to wear them down the aisle. "You're beautiful," Angelica announced, but her voice cracked with unspoken nerves. Eliza could not let herself ignore those nerves any longer. "Angelica, is something wrong? You sound..." She paused, racking her brain for the right phrasing. "You sound distraught."
Angelica sighed, audibly. It rang in the small dressing room like a bell, echoing and fading. "I...I am worried. About your husband," she finally said, subconsciously twisting a strand of her curled brunette hair. "Alexander? Why so?" Eliza prompted, taking a step closer to her sister. Angelica looked down, seemingly hesitant. Something must have clearly been bothering her. She was usually so confident, honest with herself and others and wanting to be heard. Why was she suddenly without words? After an agonizing silence she spoke. "It is about that friend of his. Laurens."
Eliza was confused, and she was sure it showed as she felt her face contract into a puzzled look. "John? What of him? I've been introduced to him and he appears to be quite a nice man. Alexander speaks of him often." Angelica stood still, as if wondering what to respond with. "I have reason to believe -" She swallowed visibly. "I have reason to believe there is a, a more intimate streak to their relationship."
The confession hung in the room like a haze, floating around Eliza and Angelica. It took Eliza a second to catch up to what Angelica had implied, uttering "What do you-" before it hit her like a runaway carriage. Alexander. Laurens. Intimate. Alexander. Laurens. Intimate. "Angelica, how could you -" She shook her head, trying to shake away the imagery her sister's words had concocted. "That is a very, very serious speculation. What is your reason to believe?"
"I recently purveyed a selection of the correspondence between the two of them," Angelica began. Her dark eyes grew darker as she spoke, and she looked like she had seen a ghost. "The language in them - I felt compelled to wash myself after coming in contact with them. Does he write in such a," she frowned, gathering her thoughts. "Such a lecherous manner, when he writes to you?" Eliza frowned. "Why have you been going through his letters?" She asked assertively. Angelica shook her head dismissively. "Not important. Does he?" "My Alexander is a gentleman. Sure, he has his jokes, but he," Eliza grimaced softly. "He doesn't. He does not."
Angelica's features hardened. She took a step back from her sister, looking as serious as Eliza had ever seen her. "Elizabeth, I want you to read these letters for yourself. I worry for you. You are still young and, and," she inhaled deeply. "I will not let him break your heart. He is ambitious and strong willed. I fear that he may struggle to know when too far is too far." She looked distant, as though she was staring through the wall and into the banquet hall where the guests were beginning to gather. "He is a man who will never be satisfied."
"Where are the letters?" Eliza implored, snapping Angelica from her haze. "They are in Peggy's closet, on the floor in a box tied with string. I think he told her they were a present for you, so he needed to hide them." Eliza frowned in response. "How bizarre. Why are they in such an odd spot?" Angelica sighed again, but she sounded more tired, less uncomfortable than before. "I don't know, Betsey. What does he have to hide?"
Angelica left the room without another word, opting to instead run her fingers through Eliza's hair almost longingly. Eliza's head spun wildly, trying to comprehend what her sister had just confessed to her. Could he and Laurens really be-? No. No. No. Her attempted analysis melted into a mantra of that word, over and over until she heard a knock at her door.
"Betsey? Betsey, dear?"
(A/N: I'm sorry this is garbage I'm a native Californian living in NY at the moment and I haven't adapted to the time change. I wrote this at one am r I p)