Chapter Text
Eliza walked blindly. She couldn't see anything beyond the tears stinging her eyes, couldn't hear anything above the words from the pamphlet running through her mind, echoing against the inside of her skull, words tha cut her straight through to her very bones. Words agonized over, words written and read by heavy hearts.
The whinny of a startled horse shattered the evening, and Eliza whirled to see the carriage swerve, the wheel joints creaking as the driver yelled a curse down at her. As the carriage trundled away, wheels sending up flecks of mud onto her skirt, Eliza stood for a moment, her heart ppounding against her ribs.
How had she ended up this far downtown? Nothing looked familiar. Pigeons clustering on rooftops cooed at her, the normally calming noise suddenly abrasive. From down the road, a peal of raucous laughter sounded from a tavern, laced with drunken shouts and hearty voices.
As she watched the sun dipping beyond the brownstones, casting long shadows over the streets, she wondered if she should have stopped the carriage driver, asked him for a ride back home.
Home.
But was that house really home? Empty save for Alexander, she had always felt at home there, safe and happy, with her adoring husband. God, she loved him. In the beginning, she had loved him more than anything. But as the months turned into years...his eyes no longer held that warmth. He looked at her as though she were something small and insignificant, a blotch of ink on his work.
Eliza knew it was silly of her, to think that that feverish honeymoon feeling could last more than a year, but she had hoped, she had hoped it might. As the time ran down, as the days grew longer, quieter, more tense, she began to dread the nights, sleeping alone while the lone scratching of a quill bore down into her brain like a needle, filling every space with a sort of blankness.
When Angelica had written to say she was coming for the summer, Eliza had jumped at the chance. Here was the opportunity she had been waiting for, a chance to rekindle that flame, that love. For weeks, she was filled with a light hope, eagerly packing and unpacking, humming as she worked, feeling a happiness, however one-sided, fill the house.
When she left, it was without Alexander, a piece of her still in the house with him.
The months upstate were beautiful; Eliza had cherished every moment with her father and sister, enjoying the bright hot days, and the starry nights. She wrote frequently to Alexander, making a near-daily trip to the post, but she received only two letters from him, both brief, both cordial. The 'I love you' at the end was lackluster- words, empty of meaning.
She knew, the moment she returned home. How could she not? Alexander was distracted, even from his work, jumpy and short-tempered. He was rarely home, and when he returned, he was cold and distant.
When the pamphlet made its way under her door, she wasn't shocked; she wasn't even surprised. She read it, once, twice, calmly. Then she had taken a match to every letter, every declaration, every scrap of parchment upon which he had poured his heart.
When Eliza left the house, it wasn't in anger, or even sadness. It was in composure in the midst of disappointment, failure and hopelessness. Alexander had tried, calling after her, meaningless words, empty words, words he didn't mean. He hadn't meant them a year ago, why now?
He didn't love me then, Eliza thought, the bitter words sweeping unbidden through her mind, like a white-hot iron. Why should he love me only when he's done wrong?
She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn't notice the other woman until she hit Eliza, spilling the contents of her bucket of water all down Eliza's chest. The other woman gasped, dropping the bucket and reaching for a handkerchief. "I'm so sorry, Miss, I didn't mean to run into you!"
Eliza didn't speak, couldn't speak.
The woman was beautiful. Her skin was a lush, dark brown, in stark contrast to Eliza's porcelain hands. Her hair hung in loose spirals down her back. Her face was beautiful without effort, full lips, strong brows and glistening eyes staring softly into Eliza's blue ones.
The woman's cream coloured dress was worn, patched in places, and the white apron fluttering in the cool breeze looked equally careworn. The homespun clothing did nothing to hide the woman's figure, all slim waist, full hips and chest, long fingers and neck. She was beautiful, incredibly so, and yet Eliza's stomach was filled with fire as she took in every part of her, of Maria Reynolds.
"It's you."