Sharing Hamilton

by Diana Rubino

  Whilst he gloated over his booty, I decided to get it over with. “Senator Monroe and Congressman Muhlenberg visited here. They took the letters Alex—Alexander wrote you, under threat of ransacking the house.”

  He nodded. “Aye, I told them I had those letters, and would furnish them upon my release from jail.” He pointed at the cash strewn on the table. “You may have this,” he said. “Hamilton gave me some more t'other day, so I dinna need it.”

  My heart lurched. “He gave you more money? How much?”

  “Naught to wet me britches about. Only thirty-five. 'Necessaries of life for my family,' I told 'im. He must'a taken pity on me in the end, for having me jailed. Chewed me out for my 'heinous crime against our government and good citizens'—in the vein of a fogy schoolmarm—then he turned the other cheek and praised me for turning state's evidence. Stood and shook my hand. Cuz of me, four swindlers confessed to embezzling from the treasury and are now behind bars. It pays to know people in high places.” He swaggered to the kitchen doorway and peeked in. “Wash water ready yet, Maggs?”

  “Coffee'll be ready first, mine master,” trilled the singsong voice from the kitchen. “It'll take nigh on all day to heat 'nuff water and a boatload a'soap to scrub you down.”

  I asked James, “Did he mention a reward? I told Monroe you deserve a reward for turning in those men.”

  “Nay, dinna expect one. By the sound of Hamilton's high and mighty manner, my freedom is my reward. As if I murdered the president or some such. Tsk.” He shook his head. “Ham's never forthcoming with monetary rewards. He deposits that treasury money so far up his arse, he needs reach down his gullet to withdraw it.”

  Maggie came out with a pot of coffee. James took it and held it up to me. I declined.

  “What do you think Monroe and Muhlenberg will do with those letters?” I asked him as he sloshed coffee over the rim of his cup. I didn't want to come out and ask if he'd mentioned me in them. I'd build up to it. James couldn't know that I had any interest in Alex beyond financial. Adulterous women suffered enough in our society. Adulterous women in love with their lovers suffered even more. I needed keep my secret strictly secret.

  “He'll likely show them to President Washington. His Excellency will decide what to do with the king of the Feds.” James sat and slurped from his cup.

  “But James—Alexander never speculated,” I insisted. “Why on earth would he tell you he did?”

  He chuckled. “Because he did. At one time or anuthurr. It ain't a mortal sin.”

  I argued, “Tis a mortal sin if he's being accused of using government money.”

  “I never said he used government money.” His jumping to Alex's defense made me blink in surprise. “All I said was that he used privileged information as Treasury Secretary to reap huge profits in certificate speculations. And some of that information is in the letters he wrote me.” He blew on his coffee and took another sip.

  “What do you think will happen to him?” I should have shut up by now, but I needed to know.

  He shrugged, frowning. “Who knows? Tis up to Washington. But His Excellency holds Hamilton in such high esteem, he won't git moore'n a slap on the wrist. Hamilton is the son Washington never had. He made Hamilton aide-de-camp during the war. Then his prized pet.” James cast a curious sideways glance. “Why are you so concerned about Hamilton's well being? If even he was jailed, which will never happen, prisoners are allowed carnal visits.” He brandished a cocky grin.

  “I—I was simply concerned,” I stammered, taken off guard, “for my own well being. I didn't want them implicating me in this, as your wife. Did Alex—did he ever mention my name in any of those letters to you?” I held my breath awaiting the answer.

  He splashed whisky into his coffee. “Hmm…” He looked up in one direction, then the other. “Not that I remember. What would he say? 'Yur wife's a great shag'? Worry not, yur innocence in this is intact. Although I daresay that's the only part a'ye that's intact by now.”

  I ignored that remark, releasing a long sigh. Relief always made my bladder want to void. So I dashed to the privy and did just that.

  Eliza

  Would you care to meet a lovely lass? I wrote to the most eligible bachelor in town, and checked my date book: next Friday was tea at Mrs. Reynolds's home. I finished with “This Friday at 2 sharp. RSVP.”

  As I blotted the letter, Alex knocked on the door frame. “What time are we supping tonight?”

  “The usual.” I folded and sealed Jacob Clingman's letter.

  “I need dine early.” He glanced at the clock in the corner. “I have an engagement at seven.”

  I nodded, adding, “There are clean shirts in the top drawer of your highboy. Oh, and your brown riding boots are back from the cobbler's.”

  As he turned to leave, he asked, “Whom were you writing to?”

  “Jacob Clingman. I invited him for tea.” I readied another sheet of paper for my invite to Mrs. Reynolds.

  “Clingman—for tea?” His voice boomed. “Whatever for?”

  I knew Alex disliked the man. Clingman was a Burr toady and a staunch Republican.

  “Naught that would interest you.” I dipped my quill in the ink. “I believe he would make a fine match for Maria.”

  “Maria who?”

  “Maria Reynolds.” I looked up at him.

  He recoiled as if stung.

  “Surely you don't begrudge the poor girl some happiness, Alex. You ran James out of town. She's alone now, and well rid of that cad. The least I can do is help her find a suitor.” I began writing the salutation. “And I shall recommend Mr. Burr as her divorce lawyer. Unless you'd care to take the case, as a personal favor to her.”

  “Favor? I don't even know the woman. No, I have enough cases already.” He waved his hands, still talking as he walked away, “Don't volunteer my services. I have no interest in…” His voice faded as he clomped down the stairs and out the door.

  I resumed my invite to Mrs. Reynolds, but didn't mention that I'd invited someone else. It was enough that Jacob knew. Then I'd let Mother Nature take over!

  Maria

  Mrs. Hamilton invited me to tea again, before my hosting her. This became confusing. Tea at her residence this Friday, tea at mine Friday next. I wrote it all down.

  I hadn't heard a word from Alex. Desperate, I posted that letter I'd written the other night. No reply. I penned him another. Still no reply. I waited at the door for the post delivery and devoured the papers every day.

  “Please don't start investigating this mess James started,” I implored President Washington from my kitchen table. But not a printed word about that. I did see “Treasury Secretary Alexander Hamilton…” It stopped my heart—but it was only about his Report on Manufactures, which he submitted to the House. The article explained his plan to establish a manufacturing sector through government subsidies and tariffs. I knew this already. I was part of it! A surge of excitement rippled through me, but died a fast death. “No, he doesn't miss you, you silly twit,” my better judgment berated me. But, God above, I still loved him and desired him.

  I arrived for Mrs. Hamilton's tea at two sharp on Friday. Is Alex home? Will I see him? I wondered, trembling. I held my skirts as the coachman helped me out of the carriage. As I rapped on the Hamiltons' door, my last visit here rushed back to me in vivid color…he'd greeted me, draped in midnight blue, arms open and ready for me…all mine. Not a soul disturbed us.

  I fought back pangs of longing as the door opened. A clean young manservant showed me in. The entry hall smelt of lemon and wax, polished and fresh. Mrs. Hamilton glided down the hall. “Maria, hello!” She clasped my cold fingers in her warm ones. I looked down at our hands, joined, thinking: these four hands caressed the same man…our two hearts love him…she and I share him. I resented her, envied her, wished I stood in her place. At the same time I hated myself for feeling this way about the kindly mother of six, inviting me into her home to share her table.

  “Come in, come in, warm
up,” she chirped, beaming. “Ah, for adult company!” Children's voices floated down the stairs. Loud little feet pounded on the floor above. Was it always this noisy? I didn't dare ask her.

  “I have one other guest coming, if you don't mind.” She ushered me into the parlour.

  “Of course I don't mind.” But when the door knocked again and her “one other guest” stepped inside, I had to hold back gales of laughter.

  At the threshold, looking at me as if I'd sprouted a third eye, stood Jacob Clingman!

  “Jacob, what on earth—”

  “Maria!” He entered and waltzed up to me. I held out my hand, which he kissed, again and again, a serious breach of protocol.

  “You know each other?” Mrs. Hamilton clasped her hands together, obviously delighted. That spared her the awkward introductions.

  “Oh, yes, quite well. Don't we, Maria? Let us show Mrs. Hamilton exactly how well we know each other.” He made a show of running his finger down my cheek and cupped my chin in his hand, eyes pinned to me in an adoring gaze.

  He turned to our hostess. “Mrs. Hamilton, Maria and I are—well, to put it delicately, since she and James have separated—courting. And if my dreams come true, she will become Mrs. Clingman ere long.” He turned to face me. I struggled to keep the astonishment from my face. It was one thing to parade as lovers, but he was pouring it on so thick, I'd need a hammer and chisel to work it loose. “I was going to wait, but I can wait no longer, my sweet.” He dropped to one knee before me and grasped my hand. “Maria, my dearest one, will you give me the honor and privilege of becoming Mrs. Clingman?”

  “I—I—” I gulped, too dumbfounded to speak. Why hadn't we rehearsed this? I should have known he'd make a theatrical production out of it. What would he do next, burst into an aria?

  “Wait!” Mrs. Hamilton twirled round, her skirts rustling about her. “Stop right there!” She called across the hall. “Alex, come quickly! You must see this!”

  Oh, no. My mouth dried up. I swayed, ready to swoon right there. Before I took another breath, Alex stood in the doorway. Our eyes met and locked. We all stood in a frozen tableaux.

  “Now, Jacob, repeat what you just said!” Mrs. Hamilton held out her hands to cue him, then turned to her stunned husband at her side.

  Jacob, from bended knee, recited, “My dear Maria, I love and adore you with all my heart and soul. Will you give me the honor and privilege of becoming my wife, so I may be proud to call you Mrs. Jacob Clingman?” Now I knew he'd rehearsed this. Again, time stood still.

  Three pairs of eyes bored into me. I managed to sputter, “But Jacob, this is so sudden!” I didn't dare look at Alex.

  “Please, Maria.” He squeezed my hand. “You are the only one I will ever love. Say you'll be my wife and mine forever and ever, till death.”

  Out the corner of my eye, I saw Mrs. Hamilton wave her hands, urging me on. She stage-whispered, “Say yes, say yes,” all but pushing my head forward in a nod.

  “Uh—yes?” It came out as a question. Now I dared look up. Alex stood rigidly, mixed emotions playing around his eyes, his lips pulled into an odd jumble of light amusement and raw disbelief.

  Mrs. Hamilton applauded. Jacob wrapt his arms round me and planted a hard kiss on my lips, letting go only when I began gasping for air.

  Alex didn't budge from his spot but folded his arms across his chest and leant against the door frame.

  “Before aught else is said, you need take one step at a time,” Mrs. Hamilton spoke, and I dreaded what would come next. Would she offer to hold the wedding here, with Alex walking me down the aisle? Oh, how to back out of this?

  But she turned to her husband. “Maria is not yet divorced from James and needs the services of a good lawyer. If Mr. Burr is unavailable, will you handle it, Alex?”

  He answered without missing a beat. “You're right, Betsey, let them take it one step at a time. Let her ask Mr. Burr first. If in fact that is whom she wants to hire. Tis really up to her.” Now he looked at me, expressionless, as if we'd just met. “Mrs. Reynolds, did your husband leave town as I suggested?”

  I couldn't lie to him. “He's planning to. He moved out of our house.” My voice small and timid, I wanted to crawl under the sofa.

  He nodded, raising his brows, but I couldn't read him at all.

  Just then, a maidservant came to the doorway. “Mr. Hamilton, Congressman Laurence is here to see you.”

  “Of course.” He addressed us. “Please excuse me. Good day, Mr. Clingman and Mrs. Reynolds—soon to be Mrs. Clingman. Mrs. Hamilton, I shall see you at supper.” Averting my eyes, he stepped out, closing the door.

  Jacob stood and clutched my shoulders. “I shall count the moments until we begin our life together, my love.” He smiled, showing both rows of gleaming teeth. Sitting across from our beaming hostess, he gave me a “How did I do?” look.

  I tried to keep the anguish from showing on my face as we went through the motions of afternoon tea.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Eliza

  I had an exceptionally enjoyable afternoon with Maria and Jacob. Over tea and scones we chatted about Shakespeare and Mozart, funned about Jefferson and Monroe. The lovebirds brought an element of joy into my house I hadn't seen in ages. Their gay laughter and tender displays of affection made me realize how Alex and I had grown apart.

  Of course he was making history while keeping his law practice alive, buried under work. But for our few hours at supper and abed each night, we breezed past each other on the stairs or in the hall. When we did converse, it was about the children, the house, or money. We hardly exchanged any words of love.

  Our last amorous encounter gave us baby John. Since his birth, we hadn't lain together as man and wife. Falling exhausted into bed each night, when he did get to bed, he'd give my hand a gentle pat, and within a moment, fall dead asleep. I could not begrudge him his moments of glory, his fame, or his place in our nation's history. After things calmed down, I knew we'd fall in love all over again.

  Showing Maria and Jacob out, I espied a familiar figure across the street, lurking next to the lamppost. My guests now out of sight and earshot, she bounded up to me and curtseyed in greeting. “Good day, Elizabeth, but much better would it be if not quite so cold.” She rubbed her gloveless hands together.

  “Annie, I told you not to call here. Mr. Hamilton is in residence at present. How would you explain yourself if he saw you? He knows who you are!”

  “Simply. I'll tell him I'm from the Philadelphia Gazette and request a personal quote about the current state of his new bank. I have an answer for every question, ma'am. Since I was in the neighborhood, I thought it prudent to save you the trouble of a journey to my dwelling.”

  “A former Revolutionary War spy now a reporter for the Gazette?” I shook my head. “Mr. Hamilton is trusting but not gullible. You must stay out of sight.” I glanced over my shoulder. “However, if you have an answer for every question, answer this: have you any information for me?”

  “The answer brings me here. Alas, I have no information, but have been earning my fee. Whilst following Mrs. Reynolds to what I hoped was her latest rendezvous—uh, sorry—I'm not sayin' I wish this to be true, for your sake, but—” She stumbled over her words.

  I expelled an exasperated breath. “Carry on! Where did you follow her to?”

  She pointed down at the ground. “Right here. Shortly after, I saw the young man enter, and I hovered about until now. Obviously nothing untoward was taking place. Unless there's something you're not telling me—” She cleared her throat, backing down the top two steps.

  “No, Annie, you followed her right here, to tea with me, and the young man I just learnt is her new paramour. I say with glee I'm convinced there is nothing untoward or otherwise between her and my husband. They barely acknowledged each other. She has eyes only for Mr. Clingman.” A happy smile spread my lips. “I shall remit you the balance of your fee.”

  Annie scowled. “Elizabeth, I daresay, that is
no proof your husband and Mrs. Reynolds haven't been—” She cleared her throat again. “—untoward. I strongly urge you to let me continue my investigation until I have proof positive, one way or t'other. I planned on following Mrs. Reynolds for several days at least. And I've contacted all the local newspapers, where I compared the handwriting of your anonymous letters to that of letters written by the secretaries and scribes of Mr. Jefferson, Mr. Adams, Mr. Burr, and for good measure, Mr. Monroe. I went to the Gazette of the United States, the Philadelphia Gazette, the Pennsylvania Post, the Pennsylvania Chronicle, and Dunlap's Daily Advertiser. I also obtained original documents written by these men themselves. I can report to you with solid certainty that no resemblance to your letters appears.”

  “You've been thorough in this,” I complimented her, “but I want this investigation to end.” I could not admit to myself why, though. “I am convinced my husband and Mrs. Reynolds are no more than strangers and shall put this matter to rest.”

  She pulled out a hankie and blew her nose into it. “Elizabeth, if you will forgive my boldness, I'm reading between your lines, and I can discern your reluctance. But you cannot be convinced in a situation as dire as this without proof. I daresay tis because you're afraid of what I might discover, and if I do unearth some proof, you won't want to believe tis true.”

  “Now listen here—” But I halted myself. Rigid and tense, I gripped the doorknob, my knuckles bloodless, my other hand clenched into a fist. “You're right. I cannot bear to know if my husband is unfaithful.” I released a defeated sigh.

  She clucked. I took a deep breath and prepared to share my feelings. “I'm needy for someone to confide in. I've given you much intimate information already. Yes. I am afraid of the truth. Please keep hold of the letter I gave you and continue to ascertain who wrote them. I'm sorry I was short with you.”

  “I understand, ma'am. As you can imagine I've seen folk much more distraught. This is hard for you, I realize. I shall continue to work on your behalf, free of charge. Meanwhile, can you tell me who his other foes may be?”