There was an awkward silence as the guests looked around the room for the bridegroom’s supporters. Finally, an unpretentious voice announced itself from the edge of the room.
“I do, sir.” Stephen Van Rensselaer slipped through the guests and stepped up right behind Alex. Peggy’s hand went to her throat, her eyes brimming with love for a man whose words always seemed to come at the perfectly timed moment. The familiar words of the Dutch Reformed marriage ceremony stumbled slowly out of Stephen’s mouth. “I give my blessing and promise my continued love and support . . .”
“As do I!” Lieutenant Colonel James McHenry, Alex’s fellow aide-de-camp, cut smartly through the guests to take up his post beside Stephen.
“And I, as well,” said John Church, his voice booming from the other side of the hall.
The minister raised his eyebrows, patiently waiting for the coda to their pledge.
“—with God’s help!” said the three in perfect unison.
“Well done,” whispered Angelica to her very own new husband. Even she couldn’t help but be moved.
The minister covered the bridal couple’s clasped hands with his own and called for the exchange of the vows. In deference to his future in-laws, Alex had gone along with the conventional vows of the Schuylers’ church. But when it came to writing his personal vows, the scrivener in him came to the fore.
Alex listened intently as Eliza recited the familiar vows: “I shall love you and give myself up for you, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up.” The minister nodded for Alex to repeat the words.
He began true enough:
“I shall love you and give myself up for you, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up”—then Alex looked into Eliza’s shining eyes and added a twist of his own—“and I shall serve you with tenderness and respect, and encourage you to develop the gifts that God has given you.”
Eliza’s eyes were so fastened on Alex that it was as if the words came directly from his mind to hers. The minister stood between the two of them with a perplexed look on his face. He drew in a deep breath and looked out over the affectionate expressions on the guests’ faces. He must have decided the groom’s choice of words would more than suffice.
“Therefore,” the minister intoned, “what God has joined together, let no man tear asunder. By the authority invested in me under God and state, I now pronounce you, Alexander and Elizabeth, husband and wife.” Eliza beamed at Alex, who exhaled heartily. “You may now kiss the bride, Alexander.”
Eliza fairly flew into Alex’s arms, and they kissed so sweetly and for so long that it drew cheers all around.
General Schuyler tossed his head back and roared with the gusto of a contented man. He marched across the entrance hall, eager to congratulate the newlyweds with a hearty handshake for his son-in-law and a kiss on the cheek for his daughter.
“Eliza, my sweet girl, you have chosen well!”
The general rubbed his hands together and shouted to the musicians to play on. “Let’s liven things up a bit around here!” They kicked off with a boisterous Old English wassailing song. “That’s it, boys—now that’s the spirit!”
Alex grabbed his beautiful bride for a reel that was more of a jog—and the house was suddenly full of life and laughter, music and food, children and dogs.
CATHERINE SCHUYLER STOOD in the middle of her crowded parlor rocking herself, surrounded by all the joys such a large happy family had brought her. Behind her in a swirl of activity, the servants were bringing out the largest quantity of foods in the best manner the Schuylers could afford.
Throughout the day and well into the evening, General Schuyler’s valet, Rodger, presided over the busy kitchen staff, hard at work doling out clam chowder, stewed oysters, roasted pig, venison, potatoes, baked rye bread, Indian cornbread, and pumpkin casserole. Trays of nutmeats and candy dotted the parlor. Coffee and tankards of spiced hard cider were set up on fine linens in the library.
Even Aunt Gertrude’s Morristown cook had been put to service to bake the wedding cake—a thick, rich, spiced fruitcake, made heavy with alcohol and nuts. A round table covered in a beautiful damask cloth was carried into the great hall for the ceremonial cutting of the cake.
As was the custom, the cook had baked a piece of nutmeg inside. Whoever received the slice with the nutmeg was supposed to be the next to marry.
Catherine Schuyler nearly fainted when it turned out to be Peggy.
38
Happiest They’ve Ever Been
Honeymoon Suite
Albany, New York
December 1780
The large, gabled mansion on the Hudson seemed eerily quiet after such a long, raucous day of celebration. The last of the guests had gone and the Pastures’ kitchen had been returned to its everyday readiness. Dot banked the hearths high and headed off to sleep with a well-deserved hot toddy.
By midnight, every room in the house was dark except for the firelight coming from the secluded guest bedchamber at the top of the stairs. Covered from neck to knee in a ruffled white linen nightshirt, Alex stood beside the canopied four-poster bed, waiting impatiently for his bride to join him.
On the other side of the bath chamber door, Eliza passed the end of a fresh candle over the wall sconce’s flame to soften the wax. Steadying her nerves as she waited for the slow dripping to begin, she pressed the pliant base of the warmed candle into the candelabrum and held it in place until the wax hardened.
She ran the candle’s wick through the flame of the sconce and saw her reflection alight in the mirror above the washbasin. She liked how her white satin nightgown created a soft sheen against her skin. But something was still amiss. She reached behind her head to tug the pearl-handled barrette from her hair and let her thick dark curls fall loose around her shoulders—Ah, that’s it. I’m ready now.
Eliza opened the door to the bedroom and went to meet her husband.
She stepped lightly toward the edge of the bed and kissed Alex full on the lips for the second time this night. Frank and tender all at once.
As gently and as slowly as he could, while feeling more impatient than he had ever been in his life, Alex took the candelabrum out of her hand and set it on the mantelpiece over the crackling fire.
Eliza stood in front of the hearth, luxuriating in the heat against her nightgown. The modest girl was not so modest anymore.
Cupping her chin gently in his hands, Alex bent forward to kiss her and inhaled her sweet scent. In an effort to slow himself down, he reached for her hand and took one step back for a good long look at his new bride—from head to toe. “Turn around, my angel,” he managed to say. “Let me see you in the firelight.”
Eliza pivoted in a dainty circle, excruciatingly slow. When she came back around, her dark eyes sparkled and a knowing smile played over her lips. She ran her fingertip down his freshly shaven cheek, playacting the role of a saucy little charmer. “Although I am inexperienced, Alex, I am not naïve. But, tell me true, do you love me?”
Bouncing on the balls of his feet like a besotted schoolboy, Alex crossed both hands over his heart. “More than any man has ever loved.”
The dim light flickered across Eliza’s shoulders, and Alex felt his blood rise tight under his skin. It was time for this soldier to rally. “Indeed, the truth is, Mrs. Hamilton—you take my breath away. What ever shall we do about it?”
Unbuttoning her white satin gown, Eliza let it drop to her feet.
ELIZABETH SCHUYLER HAMILTON stood next to her husband as he skimmed rocks across the Pastures’ frozen duck pond. A nearby flock of geese rose from the riverbank and squawked at the two of them, switching directions in midair at the sound of Alex’s sliding another rock across the ice.
She dug her gloved hands into her hips and turned her pretty face toward the afternoon sun. “They must think I’m going to bake them into a pie!” Alex laughed as the birds
disappeared in noisy protest.
Eliza had never seen Alex quite so happy and relaxed. She shook her head and laughed at the incongruity of it all: Imagine General Washington’s famous aide-de-camp taking the time to stop and admire the birds!
“One day, Alex, when you tire of being a soldier, we will spend all of our days just like this, watching birds and taking in the sun, surrounded by children of our own. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, my love?”
“Eliza, you and the Pastures have already taken a perfectly fine soldier and turned him into a lovesick pup. And at this moment, on this very day, there’s nothing and nowhere I would rather be.”
A WEEK INTO their honeymoon, Alex had confided to his bride that this was his first few days off in five years. As General Washington’s right-hand man, Alex was always at the general’s beck and call, expected to be ready to write or ride at a moment’s notice. Yet, here at the Pastures he was well away from his work-obsessed life. His days were tasked only with leisurely horseback rides and pulling his boots off by the fire, with Eliza reading at his side or challenging him to a shrewd game of backgammon. Surrounded by family for the first time in his life, he basked in the healthy glow of his wife and the entire Schuyler clan.
As Alex and Eliza spent the last few blissful days of their honeymoon traipsing through the snowy woods or adventuring out on that long-awaited open sleigh for a ride through the streets of Albany with loyal Hector out in front, their future stretched before them with all the hope and promise a new country had to offer.
And at last, the lonely young man who belonged to no one finally belonged to someone, forever, and the practical girl who would not settle for less than a love story for the ages found the lifelong romance she had yearned for all her life.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book would not be a reality if I hadn’t taken my family to see Hamilton in New York City in June 2016. It was right after the Tonys and featured the original Broadway cast! (Except for the king, so to us Rory is the king, Jonathan who?) My ten-year-old daughter, Mattie, was so taken by the love story of Alex and Eliza that I was forced to do research to answer her questions and in doing so got caught up in their story as well. So I would like to thank Mattie, whose favorite character is Eliza (“Hamilton should be called Eliza, Mom; we wouldn’t know his story if she didn’t tell it”), for giving me the idea to write a book about their romance.
I would also like to thank my long-time editor, Jennifer Besser, for believing in this story from the first email. I heart you, Jen!!!! Thank you to everyone at Penguin for yet another awesome book together. Yay!
Many thanks to everyone at 3Arts including my agent, Richard Abate, and Rachel Kim, and everyone at Spilled Ink, especially my research assistants for making sure I didn’t take too many liberties with history. (Liberties—get it? Thanks for the joke, Leigh Bardugo!)
Not very much is known about Alex and Eliza’s romance, except that they fell hard and fast and were so in love that Eliza carried a poem he wrote for her in a necklace she wore until the day she died. Swoon. And so this is my fictional embellishment. I hope you enjoyed it.
Thanks to all my friends and family—you know who you are and I love you all.
And last but never least, thank you to my husband, Mike Johnston. I wrote a poem to him in our early courtship, too. (But he doesn’t like to wear necklaces. Man jewelry—shudder.)
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Alex and Eliza--A Love Story Page 27