by Diana Rubino
My heart went out to his poor widow, with small fatherless children. I talked about it with Mrs. Platz, but really wanted to share my feelings with Alex. He hadn't written me a word in weeks. I felt as if half my soul had been torn from me. I missed him so badly, I considered going to his place of work, or even the treasury office, for a brief exchange with him. I still hadn't raised the courage to call on Mrs. Hamilton.
James burst in that eve loaded down with parcels. “There's more where that come from.” As he dumped his booty onto the table, a blast of winter air and a shower of snow blew through the open door. I shivered, peering into the street. An elegant carriage sat under the flickering streetlamp. Its stately draft horse let out a whinny and a puff of steam.
“What is going on, James?” I hugged my arms to my sides. “What is that—”
“Mind out the way.” He brushed past me and back out to the carriage, returning with a large box. Glass rattled inside. Two brawny workmen followed, carrying armloads of wood. “Dump it before the hearth,” James instructed them. They made five trips, and we now had enough fuel to warm us till spring.
James saw the men to the door. “Cheers, mates! Return on the morn at seven.”
“Our new coach and driver and horse—for the month.” Rubbing his hands together, he piled some logs into the hearth and lit them with the candle from the wall sconce. Within moments a blazing fire warmed the room. “Now you kin eat yur chestnuts hot all winter.”
“Where did you get all this, James? There must be fifteen cords of wood here.” I warmed my hands, not too displeased with a roaring fire in the hearth.
“Happy Christmas to you, too.” He tossed me some bank notes and uncorked a wine bottle. It looked expensive, the label in French. “Also buy yur kinfolk some gifts.”
“I'm pleased we'll be comfortable for the time being, but I have an inkling you haven't earned this the honest way. What happened, you mugged Old Nick?”
“No, I mugged Old Sandy—Hamilton, that is. Haar!” He took a sip and rolled it round his tongue. “Aaah. Absolute ambrosia. Almost beats haggis.”
I stood there shaking my head, flabbergasted. “He actually paid you more money?” I would have found it more believable that the sky was falling. Why would Alex do this? Where did he get the money? Was he raiding the treasury? God help him if he was. All because of me! I had to put a stop to this.
I sat across from James, trembling. “When did you see him? What did he say?”
“Didna encounter him personally. He sent me a note this morn, before you were up, and told me to collect a parcel waiting at his law office within the hour. And there twas. The balance of his promise to me, the other four hundred. Grand timing, too. I 'ope I din't cause 'im no 'ardship,” he mimicked a Cockney, snickering as he savored his wine.
I looked away, unable to stand the sight of him. “James, for the first time, I'm ashamed of you.” I wanted to run to Alex, throw my arms round him, promise he'd get every penny back.
Planning to do just that, I jumped up and grabbed my pelisse and gloves.
“Where in bloody hell'r you going? Tis snowing like the devil.” He refilled his goblet. I threw on my pelisse and headed for the door. “For some fresh air,” I called over my shoulder. “Tis too stuffy in here.”
“Maria, fur the love of Saint Andrew, git back in here!” he shouted after me. “We're flush with cash, we kin have a feast fit for a king tonight, and you're trawling the frozen streets?”
I cut him off with the slam of the door. He didn't chase after me. I trudged down the slippery snow-slicked sidewalk, wet flakes lashing at my cheeks and lips. When I reached 79 South Third Street, I had no idea what to say to Alex. All I knew was that I was desperate to see him. Even if his wife was home.
A row of carriages lined up in front of the elegant townhouse. The horses breathed misty puffs of steam. The windows on the right side of his house blazed with numerous candles from a chandelier. My hand frozen inside my fur-lined glove, I knocked on the door. A manservant answered. Thank God it wasn't Mrs. Hamilton!
“Is Secretary Hamilton in residence?” I asked, my breath emerging in puffs of steam.
“Whom may I say is calling?” He eyed me up and down.
“Mrs. Reynolds.”
He let me step inside. Entering the foyer, I pulled off my gloves and breathed on my hands. I should have worn my cloak. The pelisse barely prevented frostbite. I shivered with cold and nervousness. Alex must be in residence, or I would've been turned away.
The servant returned and led me into the sitting room. “Please have a seat here, ma'am.” He pointed to a settee. Too restless to sit, I stood. Shadows darkened the cold room. Only two candles glowed, no fire in the hearth. My breath came out as steam before me. “Mr. Hamilton will be out shortly,” he stated and backed out.
Voices, laughter and clinking glasses floated across the hall. The Hamiltons were entertaining. Glancing in the party's direction, I wished we'd been invited. But we'd never achieved their social status. James's political connections didn't reach Alex's level.
I watched the clock ticking in the corner for what seemed like ages, but only ten minutes passed. When the latch clicked and the door opened, I jumped, startled.
There he stood, a vision of aristocracy and elegance. He registered neither surprise, pleasure nor displeasure. “Maria, what are you doing here?”
I approached him with hesitant steps. I wanted to take him all in—his midnight blue velvet coat, fitted no doubt by a master tailor, blue satin britches and white silk stockings. A profusion of lace accented the ensemble. His rhinestone shoe buckles gleamed. His hair, pulled back in a queue, shone with threads of silver in the candlelight. As he stepped into the room, a golden glow encircled him.
“Alex—please, I need to talk to you.” I didn't mince words, now was not the time to be a coquette. “That money you gave James, I shall pay it back—”
“No need. I felt badly I couldn't provide an opening in the department, but I made him promise not to use it for speculation.”
We stood within embracing distance. Our eyes met and held. I detected a faint trace of that sensuous cologne and tried not to throw myself into his arms. “Alex, what happened? Why haven't you called to see me? Oh, how I've missed you.” I sounded pathetic. But he had to hear this.
“I've been very busy lately, Maria. If I had some time, I would. Now I really must return to my guests. I've got Mrs. Van Rensselaer, three senators and two congressmen in there—” He began to turn his back on me.
I grabbed his arm. “Please, not yet! Do you ever think about me? I never stop thinking about you, how much we relish being together. I—I read that on the fifteenth, Virginia ratified the Bill of Rights and ten amendments became part of the Constitution,” I rambled, wanting him to know he could still discuss current events with me. “I also just finished History of America, I know tis one of your favorites. I heard poor Mozart died. And I'm taking violin lessons!” I would have babbled on, but he continued walking out. I followed. We now stood in the hall.
“Very well, now I must get back to my guests. I shall call on you.” He waved me off.
“Alex, one kiss, please, come back in here and kiss me—” I grasped his sleeve, but the fine velvet slipped from my fingers. He backed away.
“This is neither the time nor the place.” He steered me to the door, glancing over his shoulder. “I said I'd call on you. As for now, adieu.” His stern tone dismissed me.
But I would not give up. “I'm ashamed of James and I'll pay you back.” I found a more dignified voice as he nudged me outside.
“No need. Good night!” He gave a gentlemanly bow and shut the door.
Tears stung my cheeks as I trudged away, head down, my bonnet growing heavy with falling snow. How foolish I'd been to think he'd want to leave his soirée for me. If only he didn't have those blasted guests, we could have visited in that sitting room for hours. His wife wouldn't have interfered. I'd have had him all to myself!
> Now I not only detested James, I detested myself. I never would have done something this foolish were I thinking straight. I now admitted it to myself—I was deeply in love with Alexander Hamilton.
Only as I arrived at my door did I remember Alex's entreaty to avoid unnecessary walks in the hours of darkness. But I'd felt it necessary—and he hadn't mentioned the danger again tonight. Did he care for me at all?
Chapter Seventeen
Eliza
The Sabbath, New Year's Day 1792
True to his word, Alex gave me 400 dollars the day after he received his bi-monthly pay. I dared not ask him from whence it came, and he omitted to tell me. But I needed to see the ledger balance and if he'd entered any more debits. During a New Year's reception in our parlour, I stole away to his study. By stealth, as if he could hear me across the hall, I slid the ledger out of his desk drawer and opened it. The debit column showed the 600 dollars he'd already withdrawn, and no more deposits. He hadn't deposited his entire pay—only half. Then, to my astonishment, I saw he'd withdrawn another 200 dollars. That was why he could only give me 400 instead of the 600 I'd asked for. He'd given it to someone else.
Just as I closed the book, a stream of warm water rushed down my legs. I buckled over with pain. I grabbed onto the edge of the desk and slid to the floor. Going into labor, I screamed, “Alex! Someone, help! Help!” One of the servants, I knew not which, rushed in and helped me onto the fainting couch across the room.
“We'll get you abed, Mizzus Hamilton—Nettie! Fetch the midwife, send for Dr. Black! The Mizzus is birthin' her babe!”
Somehow I hung on, heaving deep breaths as the room filled with people. Alex knelt beside me, swept me into his arms and carried me up the stairs. “You will be fine, Betsey,” he repeated. He lay me on the bed. Then he asked what I'd expected to hear: “What in God's name were you doing in my study?”
“I was looking for—” The midwife appeared, ordering me to push—hard! My son was born.
We lavished our time, attention and love on John Church Hamilton, the newest addition to our growing family.
Maria
“Hamilton sired another lad. John Church. Named after someone, I reckon.” James tossed the papers aside and helped himself to another oyster. We now lived quite well since he'd collected this money from Alex. His gold smithing employment also remained steady. We'd brought Christmas gifts of silver and crystal for my family. James bought logs for their hearths, and we dined as if holding court at Hampton Palace. Lampreys, oysters, caviar—every day, James ordered delicacies and the best French wines. But knowing the source of these riches, I couldn't relish it. I needed pay Alex back somehow.
January dragged on…one snowstorm after another kept us inside and in each other's way. I played my violin, read my books and the daily papers, worked on needlepoint. But Alex occupied my every thought. I even dreamed of him. His work and new son take all his time, I convinced myself.
I wanted no more hush money changing hands, no further using me for bait. When James told me he was composing yet another letter to Alex, I left the room in disgust. But he followed me up the stairs reading it aloud, to ensure I missed nary a word.
“It is Mrs. R. who wishes to see you, and for my own happiness and hers. I have not the least objections to your calling, as a friend to both of us. I rely on your befriending me if there should be anything to offer that would be to my advantage, as you express a wish to befriend me…”
I turned on the stair and faced him. “I've heard quite enough, James.” But secretly I delighted in his wording it this way. Yes, it was I who wished to see him, and James would save me the trouble of more imploring. That night on my knees I prayed, “Please, God, let Alex call after receiving this. He'll realize we haven't been together since last year, he'll take a recess from work and babies, and escape into my arms.”
But I heard nothing. The cold dark weeks passed. By January's end I could stand it no longer. I wrote him. Mayhap I overdid the play for sympathy. But I couldn't help it. I longed for him and let him know it.
My Dearest Alex,
Oh my God I feel more for you than myself and wish I had never been born to give you so mutch unhappiness. I have been sick almost ever since I saw you. I solicit a favor…for the last time. Yes Sir rest assured I will never ask you to call on me again. I have kept my bed these two days and now rise from my pilliow which your neglect has filled with the sharpest thorns. I only do it to ease a heart which is ready burst with Greef. I can neither eat or sleep. I have been on the point of doing the most horrid acts…I feel as if I should not continue long and all the wish I have is to see you once more.
For God sake be not so void of all humanity as to deny me this last request but if you will not call some time this night I know it's late but any time between this and twelve a clock I shall be up. Let me intreat you if you won't come to send me a line of my head I can write no more. Do something to ease my heart. Or els I no not what I shall do for so I cannot live. Commit this to the care of my maid, be not offended I beg.
I was a terrible speller, but it looked all the more sincere, straight from my heart, no drafts, no practice. I folded, sealed it and gave it to Maggie with his address. “Be sure it is delivered into his hands,” I instructed her.
With some extra coin in my purse, I went out and purchased more Mozart sheet music. The great maestro was gone, but his music lived everywhere.
When I returned home, James had a visitor, his business partner Jacob Clingman. We'd known Jacob since before we married. He and James had entered several business ventures together. He now worked at the Treasury Department, but merely to fill his time—he had nearly as much money as the treasury itself.
The gentleman he was, he kissed my hand and held out a chair for me. As I inhaled his spicy cologne, a familiar rush flooded me. Lord help me, it was Tricorn, the cologne Alex wore! Jacob's eyes resembled the violet of Alex's, his hair that same burnished red, but a shade darker. I considered him one of James's more savory associates. A widower, he owned a much bigger house than Alex, living off the legacy of his older and wealthy wife Jane. Because he'd married into great wealth, he wasn't obsessed with “deals” and overnight riches. He knew James's shortcomings, but admired him for his zeal. I hoped their partnership would continue and flourish.
I enjoyed Jacob's company and shared his sense of humor, as he did mine.
“Hell's bells, Maria, where did you get off to?” James stood and embraced me, playing the concerned husband because Jacob was there. He bloody well knew where I'd got off to.
“As I'd told you, for a walk. I bought some music.” I held up my Mozart scores.
Jacob continued holding out the chair, but of course I couldn't join their meeting. That was no place for me.
“Maria, you could've caught your death of cold!” This came not from my husband, but from Jacob.
“I'll be fine. I'll find a way to get warm. Somehow.” I shot a look at James. He nodded, knowing what I meant. As I retreated up the stairs, I decided to visit Mrs. Hamilton, ready to deny that her husband interested me in any way. I tried to think of some way to prove that, though. Now was the true test—in order to keep my lover, I had to be cleverer than my lover's wife.
Eliza
I'd just finished nursing baby John when Alex came into our bedroom with a cup of tea and a plate of cookies. Never in all our years together had he ever served me like this.
“Alex, have you abdicated?” I joked as he took John from my arms and placed him in his cradle next to our bed.
“No, just wanted to talk. Betsey, what were you doing in my study when you went into labor?” He always got to the point, never allowing his victim to prepare a rebuttal, defense, or counterattack. Not that I had aught to say in my defense. I had no business in his study, and we both knew it.
I dared not start lying to my husband now. “I wanted to see our ledger.”
“Our ledger?” He awaited me to stand corrected.
He was
guarded and private about finances. He also ran the treasury as thriftily as it were all his, revealing facts and figures only when necessary. He expected everyone to trust him. And they did. From the president down to every last citizen.
“Very well, your ledger. I was curious as to why we were in such straits. You couldn't provide the funds I'd asked for.” My stern tone matched my growing ire.
“What else?” he demanded, tapping his foot.
He knew I'd seen what I shouldn't have. But of course, no matter what he said, it was our money. “I saw that you'd withdrawn a large sum.” I waited for his answer, which he gave without hesitation.
“I borrowed some money from Robert Troup and repaid him.” His eyes darted about, not meeting mine.
“What for?” Now I demanded. “I deserve to know why, at least.”
“Some investments. Naught to concern you while you've five children to raise.” He glanced down at the cradle.
“Six children, but who's counting?” My voice rose.
He gave a dismissive shrug. “Oh.”
“Alex, if you're investing to the point we cannot afford a parlour carpet,” my voice rose, “I should know about it.”
“I know a bit about handling finances, dear one.” He rarely used this condescending tone, but now he was the Treasury Secretary speaking to common folk, not a husband to his wife.
“I think not, by the looks of our ledger,” I countered, struggling to keep my tone respectful.
“Betsey, I had one simple question, and you're making it an inquisition. I answered you. Now I must return to work.” He straightened his sleeves and turned to leave.
I clutched his sleeve. “One more thing, sir.”
He faced me—stared me down was more like it.
“I also saw a letter addressed to me. Why did you open it and not show it to me?” I inquired.