Author's Note
The sheer amount of historical inaccuracies in this chapter and in the upcoming ones will make you want to cry. I'm serious. AH! Just let me fuck around with history tho for the sake of the story lol :)
The words did not have the staggering effect that Alexander had hoped for, for instead, John blushed as red as a poppy. "You're right … of course." He quivered and shook his head, and Alexander watched as he clenched and unclenched his fists several times before suddenly snapping into a stance that left his back soldier-straight. "Alex, I've said this before, but I'm so sorry—about Eliza, about the boy—"
"Philip—" Alexander cut in.
"Philip, yes, and I don't think I'll ever be able to make it up to you or Eliza or Philip ... but, forgive me, I want to see them first before I say anything more."
Alexander didn't respond to this, for frankly, it was a hard thing to concede to and forgive, even if before he had been willing; luckily, his lack of reproach was as good as an assent. His head ached at the apology and John's desire to see those whom he had effectively cursed, but there was still one thing left to be settled, one thing that his previous monologue had plainly showed nettled him: "You still didn't answer my question."
"I— … of course," was John's abashed reply. His gaze fell to the ground, as he walked forward to bridge the gap Alexander had placed between them. "I've been ... away."
"I'm aware."
"In England."
"No."
"Yes—"
"We had just won a war against them and then you went back?"
"Yes ... but I grew up there, you know."
"Okay."
"I had a wife there," John went on.
He examined his fingernails, for this had been a fact that John had kept from him for over a year. "Yes, Martha. I believe you said that you two didn't like each other much."
"Rather. But ... there was someone else there I did love a great deal."
Alexander did not want to admit that something inside him tightened upon hearing those words. He coughed and eked out a nonchalant expression. "Another lover? How sly of you."
John's eyes turned inexplicably grave, and he looked as if he were biting the inside of his cheek painfully. "No, my daughter ... Frances."
Relief. "Ah."
His entire body turning limp, John put a hand on Alexander's shoulder, as if to steady himself. "Only, I was given word three weeks ago that her mother and she were lost at sea."