“Oh, they know me,” Eliza said. “They just don’t take me seriously because I am a woman.” She squeezed her husband’s hand. “We have never had a fight like this before.”
“Not since the early days anyway,” Alex said, “when you thought I was a terrible flirt.”
“Oh, to be seventeen again!” Eliza sighed and patted the softening center of her body, then leaving her hand sitting on her stomach. “I do not like to fight,” she said, “especially now, when a new phase of our lives is beginning.”
“I do not like to fight either,” Alex said. “Under any circumstances.”
“Perhaps I am being irrational, but I feel that something has changed since Mrs. Reynolds came into our lives. I do not like the effect she has on you. You were quite caught up with the Childress case last year, but it was more because you knew your professional reputation was on the line. This feels more personal. She is bringing up something in you. Perhaps it is memories of your mother, or maybe something else. But it is clearly upsetting you. Won’t you talk to me about it?”
“I—” Alex broke off. He didn’t want to admit Eliza was right, yet the things he had just said to her would have been unthinkable a few days before. His mother had died so long ago. She was just a distant memory, and Alex thought he had laid her—and the rest of his childhood—to rest long ago. But Eliza was right. Perhaps he had not reinvented himself when he came to North America quite as completely as he liked to think.
And he couldn’t talk to her about it, couldn’t lay out how terrible it was, how filthy, how dirty. He was lowborn enough; he did not want to burden his wife with his sordid past.
“I will be more careful,” he said finally. He felt Eliza waiting for something more. “I cannot drop her case, Eliza,” he said in a placating voice. “I gave her my word as a gentleman.”
Eliza nodded at the darkness. “No, I suppose you can’t. Only remember, however desolate she seems, she is not the first woman in your life.”
“I could never forget that, my darling.”
“No,” Eliza said, lying back and relaxing into Alex’s arms, but not rewarding him with her gaze or a kiss. “I don’t think you could. But she can.”
15
Fun-raising
The Great Houses of Manhattan
New York, New York
August 1785
In the morning, at breakfast, both Alex and Eliza made their countenances extra jolly, as if last night’s fight were just a bad dream, and the only thing to do was smile it away. Yet Eliza could discern a certain stiffness in Alex’s demeanor that wasn’t there before. It was clear that, despite his chagrin, he was still ashamed of the things he’d said. He should be ashamed, she thought, and while she had forgiven him, she was still badly hurt by his words.
For her part, she found it all too easy to retreat into the chilly formality her mother had taught her to mask her feelings in a difficult social situation. She had started referring to Alex as “Mr. Hamilton” when she spoke to John or Emma, as she had when they were first married and she was too shy to use his Christian name to anyone other than him. Though her brother and houseguest both looked at her quizzically a couple of times, neither said anything, and soon enough John was off to school, leaving Eliza and Alex alone with Emma.
“I should be off soon,” Alex said after John had left, “but first I wanted to ask you about the matter we discussed last night.”
Eliza turned to him in alarm, but before she could beg him not to bring up the fight ever, ever again, he said:
“This orphanage you mentioned. I think it is a capital idea, yet I am not sure how to present it to Reverend Provoost.” The words rolled out one top of the other. Clearly he too had no desire to revisits last’s night contretemps, and Eliza nodded a little too eagerly.
“I only asked because you mentioned that the church has so many buildings sitting empty. If they cannot collect rents on them lest they violate the terms of their charter, and if they cannot use them because they can’t afford to keep them up, perhaps they could allow someone else to make use of it.”
Alex shrugged. “Getting the church to part with valuable property will be difficult. They want me to make it possible for them to earn more money, not to give away potential future income.”
“But isn’t the church’s mission to provide succor to people in need?” Emma chimed in here, but quietly, as if she were intruding on someone else’s conversation.
“Yes,” Alex agreed, turning to her. “But you are not asking the church to oversee the program, are you?”
Emma turned to Eliza, as if expecting her mistress to take over, but Eliza merely smiled at her. If the girl was to succeed in administering the orphanage—or in her suit for John’s hand—she would have to learn to assert herself.
Just then Drayton appeared in the doorway, and Emma transferred her gaze to him. She smiled at him shyly, as if he might come to her rescue.
“Rowena asks if anyone would like seconds, or can she stoke her fire and head to market? She says the fishmonger promised her fresh sole today, only she had better get there early because the catch has been skimpy lately,” he informed them.
“Oh, I love sole!” Eliza said. “Yes, tell her to be off. Perhaps a little more coffee, though?”
“Of course, Mrs. Hamilton,” Drayton said, retrieving the pot from the sideboard. He refilled her cup, then turned to her left.
“Emma?” he said in a hushed voice, still embarrassed to call her such, as she was sitting at a table on which he waited.
“Thank you, Drayton, but I am drinking tea, as I was the last time you asked.”
She spoke in a quiet but firm voice, flashing her eyes at the footman, who colored visibly.
Silly girl! Eliza thought. If she was half as cheeky with John, he would have already proposed!
“I do beg your pardon, Miss Trask—Emma—of course, tea, just one moment—”
And you, you silly boy! If you continue to stutter around pretty girls like a schoolboy, you will never get Betty to see you as a man, let alone a potential mate! Well, she thought, if the matchmaker’s work were easy, there would be no need for matchmakers. Nature would just work things out on her own.
“I’m fine, thank you, Drayton,” Emma said merrily.
“Yes, very good,” Drayton said, practically dropping the coffeepot on the sideboard and running out of the room.
“Hmph,” Alex said. “I guess I shall refill my cup myself.” As he stepped to the sideboard, he said to Emma: “I believe you were explaining to me the parish’s role in your orphanage.”
It seemed to Eliza that Emma fought the urge to look at her, but she managed to hold Alex’s gaze.
“Yes,” she almost whispered. Then, taking a deeper breath: “We Episcopalians have not the nuns and monks and Jesuit societies that the Catholics do, and, as well, I understand that the parish is in somewhat straitened circumstances, so it would be doubly impractical for them to attempt to oversee such a large operation.”
“How large are we talking?” Alex asked as he returned to the table with a steaming cup.
“By some accounts, the number of orphans in the city is over three hundred. There may be as many as five hundred if you count the villages in Kings and Queens Counties, as well as in New Jersey.”
“My God! I hadn’t realized the problem was so dire.”
“It’s just that they are so widely scattered,” Emma continued. “Two here, three there, hiding out in haylofts and basements and squatting in the kitchens and basements of parish houses. Mrs. Hamilton and I have spoken to the rectors, priests, and rabbis of almost every church and temple in the city. The war left thousands of children without parents, and a good number of them converged on our larger cities, especially New York, apparently thinking that the opportunity for work or alms would be greater here.”
“I suppose that
makes sense,” Alex said. “And yet it seems that we were woefully unprepared for them.”
“Part of it is the situation you yourself are dealing with,” Eliza chimed in. “This problem of hamstrung finances dating back to the parishes’ original charters from the Church of England. The Jews, Catholics, and other Protestant denominations have not these same restrictions, but their numbers are too small to make a big difference. Part of it, too, is the manpower lost in the war itself. Families are rebuilding their numbers as well as their finances, and few have the time or the opportunity to devote to others’ needs, however much they might want to.”
“By opportunity, I assume you mean money,” Alex said.
“We thought we could fund the orphanage through yearly subscriptions,” Emma said, “like Trinity’s drive to raise to build a new church building.”
Eliza felt the need to speak here, since this would be her primary responsibility. “I am hopeful that we can count on a few families to help us establish an initial endowment,” she said, “from which interest income will eventually accrue, while the day-to-day expenses can be underwritten by more modest annual donations.”
“Endowments? Interest income? It sounds like you two have given this a fair amount of thought.” Alex’s voice sounded genuinely impressed, and even though he had directed his compliments at Emma, Eliza felt that things were returning to normal between them for the first time that morning. They were two young crusaders, working for the good of the city, their country, their countrymen.
Emma blushed. “Oh, it is all Mrs. Hamilton’s doing. I am just here to file the papers, as it were.”
“Emma, you are being too modest! The subscription idea was hers. I was just hoping that we could get Stephen to pay for everything,” said Eliza.
Alex chuckled. “I’ve no doubt you will manage to extort a sizable payment from your brother-in-law, but Emma is right. Unless Stephen feels like parting with an unadvisedly large share of his ready income, it is unlikely that he will be able to do more than help you get the thing off the ground, leaving the issue of keeping it going year in, year out. But the ladies of New York society, much like their husbands, enjoy seeing their names on donor rolls. Though none of them may be able to give fifty or even twenty-five pounds, I am sure my wife knows enough women that she can easily raise the five hundred pounds or so that it would take to run such an enterprise.”
“It will probably be closer to a thousand,” Emma said.
Alex drew in a breath. “You are certainly aiming high.”
Eliza laughed guiltily. “Credit to Emma, or blame, as you will. She pointed out that so many orphanages are breeding grounds for vice. The children are huddled together in wards and fed a subsistence diet, while they wait in vain for a family to come along and rescue them. She thought that we should not fasten our sights on the chimera of adoption but think of the institution more as a kind of boarding school, where we can educate our charges not just in Christian virtues, but in useful skills that will help them in trade or perhaps even in business, if they show an aptitude.”
“I—I was inspired by your own story,” Emma said to Alex. “It is well known how your own origins were not affluent, yet your intelligence was spotted early on, and you were afforded the education that enabled you to make something of yourself.”
Eliza gazed hard at Alex as Emma said these words. She wondered whether her houseguest knew how close she was sailing to the troubled waters she and Alex had foundered in last night. Alex’s eyes fell from Emma’s to the table as the latter spoke, and his features softened. He was silent for a long moment after she finished. When he looked up, his eyes went first to Eliza’s stomach, and then to her face, and she knew he was thinking more of the future than the past.
“A house full of budding Alexander Hamiltons? It sounds like an absolute nightmare.” He chuckled, and then Eliza did, and then they were both laughing heartily while Emma stared at them as though they had lost their minds.
“And on that note,” he said at length, “I should be off. I will find the right way to present this to Reverend Provoost. It would help if I had some good news of my own to offer him, but I’m sure I can bluff my way through it.”
He went around the table to Eliza and bent over to give her a lingering kiss, which, though it landed on her forehead, felt rather intimate.
“I love you more than I can say,” he whispered in her ear.
Eliza felt her heart swell. She didn’t reply but knew her shining eyes said all that needed to be said.
“Emma, your perspicacity in these matters is inspiring. I have no doubt the two of you will make a success of this enterprise. I only hope that my wife does not end up adopting all the children herself!” And with one final blown kiss to his wife, Alex made his exit.
* * *
• • •
THE NEXT SEVERAL weeks were a whirlwind of activity as Eliza and Emma made the rounds of New York society in a hired carriage. The weather was fine all week, with just the faintest whiff of fall in the air, and they left the top down to enjoy the fresh air and sunshine, as well as the sights. The city was a hubbub of activity. It had fully doubled in size in the two years since Eliza and Alex had moved there, and though many of the new buildings and shops had a slapdash quality to them, there was still the undeniable smell of commerce and progress. The city, like the new country of which it was a part, was rife with uncertainty but also optimism. With the sun beaming down on a well-tied bonnet, the clip-clop of a trotting horse’s hooves in her ears, and the hustle and bustle of pedestrians and laborers and businessmen all around, it was impossible for Eliza to believe that the city was marching anywhere else but the future—a bright, prosperous future that might just drag the rest of the country along with it.
The Jays were high on their list. John Jay had become Alex’s most important mentor since they moved to the city, and Sarah had become a surrogate older sister for Eliza since Angelica moved to London with her John, transformed from a constant companion into someone who only existed on the pages of all-too-brief letters three or four times a year.
After the successful visit, the Jays invited the Hamiltons over for dinner the next evening, and now the two couples, with Emma and John in tow, were gathered together in the “triclinium,” as Sarah jokingly referred to the small parlor that faced their garden, with three couches arranged around an elegant table, although it was really more like three dinners, with John Jay and Alex pairing off on one couch to discuss developments in the struggling Bank of New York, of which they were both trustees.
Soon enough, though, their conversation gave way to politics, although it was less a conversation than a lecture by John, who felt that Alex was neglecting his true calling. “You spend too much time in the courts,” Eliza heard him say at one point. “There is a country to be built, and it will not be composed of property claims and petty grievances! We need not just laws but a document to govern them all and to tie us together once and for all. Out of all the men in this country, only you or Mr. Madison or Mr. Jefferson could conceive of its contours, let alone write it. Mr. Jefferson is too much of an individualist to do so, and Mr. Madison is too rich to undertake such a vast endeavor without assistance. Your country needs you, Alex!”
Alex only nodded sheepishly and made occasional small sounds of protest—he was busy, he had not completely forgone his political work, he was still young, and there would be time for it once his law practice was stable. Eliza knew he was too proud to speak the truth more plainly—especially within the elegant confines of the Jays’ sumptuous mansion—which was that he simply couldn’t afford to work for his government for free when there was a growing household to support. It was easy to devote yourself to selfless activities when you had a thousand acres planted in Virginia tobacco or New York wheat to support you. A man who earned his own keep had to choose his priorities, and although Alex loved politics and his country, Eliza k
new he loved his family even more and would always err in their favor. She only wished that he didn’t believe (however much he might deny it) that being a self-made man somehow made him less than his aristocratic peers. He would save himself a world of grief if he did.
While the men engaged in their serious talk, Sarah and Eliza huddled on a second sofa to talk about plans for the orphanage. Their conversation ran much more smoothly than the men’s: Sarah was immediately keen on the idea and wondered that it hadn’t been done already. She said she knew of a dozen ladies in New Jersey whom she could tap for contributions and would make a special trip to her home state for that sole purpose.
That left Emma and John—who had invited himself, Eliza pointed out to a skeptical Alex—alone on the third couch. Eliza noted with glee that the young couple seemed to get along famously, with Emma frequently giving way to (modest, of course) laughter at something or other John had said, and John at one point even feeding her a little spoonful of berries and cream. Eliza was so pleased with this development that she barely thanked Sarah for her pledge of fifty pounds a year toward the orphanage and was halfway out the door when she rushed back in to give Sarah a big hug and kiss and thank her properly.
She had not previously considered the idea that these sojourns could be used to facilitate the connection between John and Emma, and cursed herself for not having brought him along on previous trips. After the smashing success of the Jays’ dinner, however, which ended with a slightly tipsy Emma leaning warmly into John’s arm and resting her head against his shoulder, she resolved to bring him along the next journey as well.
* * *
• • •
IT WAS JUST a few days later that she received a note from John and Helena Rutherford informing her that they were in town from their New Jersey estate and would love to have them to dinner, and when Eliza wrote back she made a point of asking if John and “a houseguest, in whom the Schuyler heir has taken an interest” could join them. Helena wrote back that she would “delighted” to play hostess to a “budding romance.” As it turned out, however, Helena had also invited Betty Van Rensselaer, along with William and Elizabeth (née Cornell) Bayard, and Robert Livingston, the recently appointed chancellor of New York, and his wife, Mary, who were in town from their country estate near Germantown, making it less of an intimate affair than a bit of a free-for-all.
All for One Page 17