I, Eliza Hamilton

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I, Eliza Hamilton Page 14

by Susan Holloway Scott


  “Why shouldn’t you think well of him?” I said in warm defense. The truth was that I’d been as eager in offering those liberties to my person as he’d been in claiming them: proof enough of how noble he truly was not to press for the final one. “Has he ever given you indication that he is anything less than a gentleman? Has he ever shown evidence before you of dishonorable intentions?”

  “Have I ever accused him of those things?” she asked with maddening innocence.

  “Even now you have done exactly that by implication!”

  “Then may I offer my most heartfelt apology, Eliza, for it was never intended that way,” Angelica said. “All I wish for you both is that your marriage, whenever it occurs, is a long and happy one.”

  Her apology was so abject and her manner so soothing that I’d no choice but to accept it, especially on the last day we were together. That was my sister’s nature: as Papa said, she could be the first to jab a stick into a bee’s nest, but she was also equally quick to calm the insult with a ladle of honeyed sweetness.

  I gave one final sniff by way of acceptance, and returned her handkerchief, wet with my tears.

  “I’m not entirely blind by love,” I conceded. “I’ll grant you that my Alexander is like every other man, and not without his flaws. He worries overmuch that he is beneath me, and can become impatient when he cannot achieve his goals as quickly as he wishes. He believes himself too slight compared to other more sizable soldiers, and he’s not as pious as I might wish for the sake of his Christian soul. But he is honorable and generous and surpassing kind, and the most honest gentleman I’ve ever known. I know in my heart that he will never lie to me, and few other women can say that of the men they marry.”

  But if I expected Angelica to agree with me for the sake of sisterly cheer, I was sadly disappointed. Instead her face grew serious, even wary.

  “Do not say that of him, Eliza, I beg you,” she said. “That he is honorable and generous and kind to you I will not deny, but there is no mortal man who is entirely honest.”

  Although ordinarily my first reaction to this would be to fly to my love’s defense, there was this time a cautionary directness to Angelica’s manner that stopped me, and made me take note, even as I tried to divert it.

  “Perhaps that can be said of your husband,” I said, hedging. “But I don’t believe my Alexander is cut of that particular cloth.”

  “But he is, Eliza,” she said softly. “They’re both brilliant, worldly men, and determined to make the most for themselves of what life presents. We wouldn’t find them so fascinating if they weren’t.”

  Still I shook my head, unable to reconcile Alexander’s glorious dreams for the country with Mr. Carter’s more mercenary trading.

  But Angelica would not be deterred. “I cannot stop you from trusting him, Eliza, nor do I wish to,” she said. “All I ask is that you not trust too much, and guard yourself. Oh, he may not lie to you outright, but I assure you that in the course of your marriage there will be omissions that he’ll justify and half-truths that he’ll dismiss. Some shall make you laugh and others, alas, may make you weep.”

  I made a great show of untying and then retying the long silk pink ribbons on my hat, snugging them close along the nape of my neck below the bottom of the cap, as if this deliberate tidiness would resolve the unsettling questions that my sister now raised. I remembered how Kitty Livingston had cautioned me regarding Alexander’s ambition and habits, and now here was Angelica doing the same. I respected them both, and I’d be a stubborn fool if I didn’t at least consider and weigh what they’d said.

  And yet I thought also of the look in Alexander’s eyes when he kissed me, how when he held me I felt as if I were the most cherished of women, how he said he loved and trusted me above all others. I remembered how he had sworn he’d only make me cry from joy, never from pain or sorrow, and I believed him now as I’d believed him then. Surely a vow such as that must account for something. Surely if he loved me as I knew he did, he would not lie or tell me half-truths, as Angelica predicted. He wished me by his side always, our lives combined into a single shared future.

  No, not my Alexander.

  I turned to head back to our house, the late afternoon sun now bright in my face, and I looked upward to feel its warmth on my cheeks.

  “All I ask is that you take care, Eliza,” Angelica said, falling into step beside me. “I pray that you and Hamilton will be the happiest and most blessed couple under Heaven, and all of this will fade away as an unnecessary caution, unneeded and long forgotten.”

  “Thank you, Angelica,” I said, brushing aside my hat’s ribbons as they blew across my shoulder in the breeze. “I will take care, as you wish, even though I don’t doubt Alexander’s love for me.”

  She nodded, but with resignation, not agreement.

  “That’s all I would ever dare ask of you,” she said. “But remember, dear sister, that the easiest men for us to love are often the same ones who hurt us the most.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Albany, New York

  July 1780

  It was Papa’s decision that Mamma and I return to Albany in the middle of June. This was the same time that Lady Washington had chosen for her departure from the encampment, too, making it an obvious, and seemly, choice. Because Mamma was unwell, in her stead I oversaw the servants packing our belongings and (not wanting the owners of our hired house to think ill of our housekeeping) giving the house a thorough cleaning before we left it.

  Most of all, I resigned myself to the inevitable separation from Alexander, with my only consolation coming from the fact that the army remained mired in Morristown, with no summer campaign as yet decided, let alone begun. Although Alexander was as restless as every other man still in the camp, I secretly rejoiced, grateful that the lack of fighting preserved him from danger.

  Until, that is, the seventh morning in the first week of June.

  Dawn came early, as it does in June, and already the sky was a brilliant blue with only the merest puffs of snowy clouds along the horizon. If I’d been home in Albany, this would have been a perfect day for the languid pursuits of early summer: a walk in the shade beneath the fruit trees in the orchard, or picking strawberries warm and sweet from the sun, or perhaps a row in a skiff on the pond.

  But this was 1780, not 1770, and I wasn’t at my parents’ house, but instead in Lady Washington’s chamber in headquarters. Early as it was, I’d known she’d be awake and already at her day’s business; His Excellency himself never lay abed past dawn, and his entire Family took their cue from his habits. I’d been sent here by my mother, who was suffering mightily from her queasy belly. Two days before, Lady Washington had offered Mamma a special elixir of peppermint from her own recipe by way of relief, and from respect for Lady Washington’s station and generosity, I’d come to collect the bottle myself instead of sending a servant.

  While I waited for Lady Washington to decant the elixir in her closet, I sat beside the open window, halfheartedly watching the soldier who’d escorted me here and another man throwing a stick for a spotted dog in the front yard. The sentry at the front door—by now I recognized all of them, and they me—had told me that His Excellency was meeting in his office with his aides-de-camp. I’d hoped to steal a hasty moment or two with Alexander, but if he were already deep embroiled in the general’s work of the day, then he likely wouldn’t be free until this evening, if then.

  As I watched, the soldier who’d been my escort suddenly turned, staring down the road with the stick now forgotten in his hand. Seeing him look, the other soldier turned, too, leaving the dog to dance impatiently between them. Now I, too, could hear the sound of an approaching horse, its rider spurring onward toward the house. The rider was dressed in the makeshift uniform of a New Jersey militiaman, and he’d ridden hard, and in great haste. The horse’s sides were flecked with foam and the man’s clothes were stained with gunpowder, grime, and sweat, and when he reached the house, he slid swiftly from the saddle,
tossed the reins to a bystander, and ran to the front door.

  I leaned from the window, curious to hear what news the man was bringing. Alas, he kept his voice too low for me to overhear, yet whatever he said to the sentries was important enough for him to be swiftly ushered into the house. The news likewise sent a ripple of excitement through the house, audible in the rise in men’s voices, their hurried steps across the floorboards, and doors opening and shutting. The men out of doors were shouting, too, calling back and forth to one another as they rushed this way and that with fresh purpose, while even the dog, too, ran back and forth, barking loudly with the same excitement.

  “What a prodigious racketing!” Lady Washington exclaimed as she returned to the chamber with the bottled elixir. “Whose dog is that?”

  “I don’t know, madam.” I rose swiftly from the chair, determined to learn more. After so many months of inactivity for the army at the camp, the excitement was contagious, and I hurried across the room toward the doorway. “But a militiaman has only just arrived in great haste with some sort of news for His Excellency. Permit me to go learn more so that we might—”

  “Thank you, Eliza, but such an alarm is neither necessary, nor proper,” Lady Washington said. “We shall learn the news when the gentlemen decide to share it with us.”

  I stopped, but my excitement still raced on. Surely all those raised voices around us must be signs of celebration! “But what if there’s been a great victory, madam? What if—”

  “Hush, Eliza, and calm yourself.” She didn’t raise her voice, but the firm dignity of her tone made it impossible to ignore. “You’re the daughter of a general, and you intend to marry another officer. You know as well as I that it is not our place to meddle in the military affairs. If the news pertains to us, then we shall be told in due time, and not before.”

  I dropped my hands to my sides, instantly sobered by her experience and wisdom, and feeling myself a young and giddy fool. Why had I let myself be carried away, and assume a victory—or even a battle or skirmish—simply because I’d heard the excitement of others? Papa had always cautioned us that this was precisely how wartime rumors began, born of half-truths, misread observations, and wishful thinking, and here I’d been no better than the rest. What sorry kind of wife would I make to Alexander, with thoughts as distracted as these?

  Yet Lady Washington continued as if nothing at all were amiss, as if the men’s voices growing louder and more insistent in the house and in the yard were only a mere inconvenience.

  “Instruct your mother to take three drops of this mixed in a dish of weak tea,” she said, pressing the little bottle into my hand. “She may sip the tea if that is less taxing to her, but she must finish it if she is to achieve relief.”

  She covered my hand with her own, not only to make sure that in my agitation I would not drop it, but also to comfort me.

  “There is nothing to be gained by fretting and fussing over the matters we have no power to effect, my dear,” she said gently, her plump, small hand remaining over mine. “We must be brave, and we must be strong. It’s far better to place our faith and prayers in God, and our trust in the men whom we love to do what is right.”

  Her smile was warm but there was an undeniable tension around the corners, and I realized then that she knew exactly what was happening, and exactly what I had been denying to myself for Alexander’s sake. I could hear the drums outside now, marshaling the troops to battle. Tears stung my eyes, and as I bowed my head over the bottle so she wouldn’t take note, I thought of how our hands were clasped together around the bottle as if in prayer.

  It was at that exact moment, too, that the chamber’s door opened and His Excellency himself came striding into the room. I’d always found him a powerful, even daunting, figure, but to see him now, with his eyes flashing with resolution, he seemed the most impressive of leaders, and the one hero our foundering country needed most.

  Yet at that moment, he clearly desired to speak to his wife, not to me. He frowned briefly when he saw me with her, then with gentlemanly grace even in a time like this, he managed to smile at me.

  “Miss Schuyler, good day,” he said. “I regret that I must ask you to return to your own quarters at once, and remain there with your mother until your father joins you later today. One of the men will see you there.”

  Acutely aware of how much of an inconvenience I must be, I curtsied and backed from the room. I don’t recall what I managed to stammer to either His Excellency or Lady Washington; I only hope I was able to share my gratitude and my best wishes to them both.

  But as soon as I was in the hall and the door closed behind me, I found myself in the middle of more chaos than I’d ever witnessed before in this house as the officers who’d lodged there prepared to leave. For once, no one paid any attention to me at all, and I was as good as invisible. Servants and waiters rushed back and forth as they collected bundles of uniforms, shirts, and stockings as well as leather bags and boxes. It became clear that they’d received orders not just for a single encounter with the British, but to gather their belongings for a campaign.

  I was desperate to know more, to know what had happened earlier and what would happen next. Despite how Lady Washington had advised me to wait and be told, I couldn’t, and I caught the sleeve of one of the passing African servants. Dressed in the red and white livery of Mount Vernon, he belonged to the Washingtons, and if anyone knew the latest news, it was always servants.

  “A moment, if you please,” I said. “Can you tell me what has happened?”

  He nodded, and touched his forehead to me in deference.

  “Yes, madam,” he said, with the same eager excitement that nearly every other man, of every rank and station, was displaying around us. “They say there’s five thousand of the enemy rowed over from Staten Island last night, madam. They say they landed in Elizabethtown, but that the Jersey brigade and militia took them on, and now master will finish the fight, and drive them back into the Hudson, see if they don’t!”

  He nodded again, clearly delighted at having been the bearer of such news. It was nothing that hadn’t been expected, even anticipated, and yet still I felt the unwelcome shock of it. The British had invaded New Jersey, and the general was finally determined to engage them. There would be fighting, and bloodshed, and likely lives lost on both sides.

  And no matter how hard I’d prayed to the contrary, Alexander would have his wish for another chance at the glory he so craved.

  I had to see him before he left, to wish him well and give him my love. One more time, one more time . . .

  Swiftly I glanced past the servant to the room that he had shared with the other aides-de-camp. The door was open, but there were no officers within, and only waiters dismantling and packing away the camp beds.

  “Where is Colonel Hamilton?” I asked, my voice taut with urgency. “He must still be here, since His Excellency remains in the house.”

  The servant made a long face, aware that he hadn’t the answer I sought.

  “No, madam, Colonel Hamilton’s already gone on orders,” he said. “I saw him myself on his horse, madam.”

  I couldn’t hold back a little cry of dismay, pressing my hand over my mouth. I nodded by way of dismissal, and let him continue on whatever errand he was bound. I shouldn’t be surprised; given how much the general relied upon Alexander, he’d probably sent him ahead as an advance, with all the responsibilities that entailed.

  But this meant that there was a very real possibility that I’d never see Alexander again. I wish he hadn’t told me of how reckless and impulsive he was in battle, and I wished I didn’t know of all the times he’d barely escaped with his life. None of those dangerous exploits in his past made this day any easier.

  How did women like my mother and Lady Washington, both married for decades to soldiers, remain so stoic in the face of the risk to their husbands? Lady Washington had urged me to be brave and strong, and to place my faith in God and my trust in the man I loved. Wise
advice, sage advice, especially since this would most likely be only the first day of many like it while married to Alexander. But oh, how difficult it was going to be to follow!

  There was no reason for me to remain here. I wrapped the bottle with the elixir in my handkerchief, tucked it into my pocket for safekeeping, and made my way down the back stairs and from the house. I didn’t know what had become of the soldier who’d brought me there earlier, nor had I any way to find him once again. The walk home was only half a mile; surely I could accomplish that unattended. I narrowly dodged two men with a trunk, and another who growled at me for being in his way. I felt small, insignificant, and very much in the way, and I quickened my pace to escape this place where I did not belong.

  But amidst all those voices that meant nothing to me, one suddenly stood out, sweetly familiar and impossibly dear, calling my name. I turned back, and there was Alexander, striding down the house’s steps toward me. I was too stunned to run toward him, too overwhelmed to move.

  I’d never seen him in his full uniform with his sword and pistols, too, as martial as any warrior could possibly be. The gold buttons on his coat and the braid on his epaulets glinting in the June sunshine, and his tall black boots and black cocked hat with the black plume stood out in sharp contrast against the white house behind him.

  He stopped directly in front of me, smiling, and I realized he was gazing at me as intently as I was with him. Strange to think we both wanted to remember this moment, as if a painter had captured it for us to hold tight and keep forever.

  “I haven’t much time,” he said. “Lady Washington told me you’d been here, and I feared I’d missed you.”

  “But you didn’t,” I said. “I’m here.”

  Now I noticed the servant holding his horse near the door, how he was wearing spurs with his boots, and how his gloves were creased from the reins. He must have returned here to headquarters with a message for His Excellency, and now likely needed to head back to the front as fast as he could.

 

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