Chapter Text
April was one of the most wonderful times of the year for Joan, but it seems that this time around it would be more exciting than relaxing. With a war in its infant stages, and her father stressing about how their rather meek and new country would take on a world power and dominator; it proved to be a change in pace for her.
The ink of her pen started to drip off and on to the plan white landscape of her twentieth sheet of paper that evening, she knew it was wasteful to do such a thing, but she could never figure out what to put down; she had wrote numerous essays before and a few columns for a local newspaper. This is what stumped her though, not a single whole thought entered her brain the last hour. The sun was starting to go down for the night before she could even put a simple ‘hello’ onto the paper.
“How I'm I going to even tell her thank you?” Joan said to herself as she closed the lid to her mahogany writing desk, the smooth curve of the lid as she pulled it back into place gave her a sense of comfort knowing that her writing utensils would be safe for the night.
A very prestigious lady known as Ms. Hamilton had written about Joan in her pamphlet ‘The witching hour’, it was to inform people of her essays and how Ms. Hamilton herself saw them as, “A work of an open and almost infectiously hopeful mind; a true patriot and testament to what the men of their newly made country were fighting for.”
This had given Joan a more notable presence and a sense of credibility around her work, but she couldn’t bring herself to write a formal thank you to the lady. She had no idea why, even with her listing more than one reason, she still couldn’t do it. it was already becoming darker by the second outside, and she was tired from her day brainstorming; Joan soon had the maids come in to help her undress and get ready for the night.
The soft blue wallpaper of her room was casted in a deep blue shadow for the night, her wooden wardrobe was on the farthest wall away from her bed, but right next to the door of her room, creating a little enter way. Her childhood room was covered in different books and school work, and a few scuff marks here and there from her tendency as a child to play games like catch in her room on rainy days with her younger sister and brother. She smiled at the memories of her and her family when they were closer together. She would always run off, away from the protective watch of her parents when outside, then she would always trip or hurt herself some other way; she did that alot, always wanting more freedom. She would also watch over her younger sibling when needed, helping them put on their shoes, kissing their scrapes and bruises when needed. She misses that.
The sound of birds greeted Joan that morning; the soft sound of their calls made it just a little bit harder for her to rise from her bed, but the day waited for no one and the maids didn’t either. Soon the house servants came in to help her with her seeming lack for that morning, shaking her out of bed and into a simple but elegant rich blue gown; the feeling of Mrs. Hinds hands combing Joan’s blonde hair into a bun became almost unbearable for the girl, but the Ms. soon stopped and put a maroon ribbon around the bun.
They left Joan soon after; alone in her room with nothing besides her thoughts Joan was met with what she meant to do, write back to Ms. Hamilton and thank her for what she did. That was the problem though, and the problem yesterday and the day before that.
“Why is this so hard?” Joan said to herself as she uncovered her desk and sat down, making the poor chair creek as she did. “It shouldn't be like this…” She whispered softly as she took a new piece of paper out and began to think.
It had been hours, lunch and afternoon tea had already passed and it was nearing dinner before Joan was even able to get mid way through one rough draft of the letter. It was pure torture for her, the thought of the lady opening her letter and immediately regretting crediting her filled her fill dread, or worst, she thinks that she is weird; that made her ears red, even if it was a figment of her imagination. ‘ No, that wouldn’t happen ’ Joan thought, trying to calm herself, she would simply state her internal thanks in letter form and send it off to her.
By the time dinner concluded Joan had her finished letter, wax seal and all. All she had to do now was fetch one of the maids to go put it in the mail, but she couldn’t bring herself to call for one.
“What if this does go wrong? What if she thinks I'm desperate and weird for this?” Joan said worriedly to herself. ‘ No, I have to do this, it's only proper ’ She thought about all the times her father told her to send a thank you letter or tell them in person if they did something that helped her, and this is one of those occasions.
Joan found her courage and soon called for a maid to send the letter for her, it was a stressful three days for her only to be over in two seconds.
‘ Good grief ’ Joan thought as she fell asleep that night, but at the back of her brain she had this nagging feeling that she couldn’t quite comprehend.
‘ I’ll worry about it later… ’ and with that she fell asleep for the night.