by Diana Rubino
“Indeed, yes.” He gave me a warm smile. “There is a matter I wish to consult with you about, concerning your time in Paris.”
My hackles instantly raised, I looked blandly into his face, but saw nothing untoward in his eyes, no hint of suspicion.
“Oh, yes? And what can I tell you about Paris?” I asked.
“Well, just this. A friend, more of a professional acquaintance really, told me during a recent conversation of news he'd received in certain letters from his relatives and friends in Paris. I should add that he is from Paris himself by origin, but, having lived here for some time now, he still receives news of events at home, as a matter of interest.”
“I see, and how pray, does this affect me, Alex?”
“Oh, it does not affect you, at least not directly,” he said, much to my immediate relief. I breathed easy now. “Tis only that he mentioned that a recent letter had informed him that Paris had, until some time ago, been subjected to similar reign of terror by night as has our city. A number of young women had been found horribly murdered, strangled and physically violated in the same way as those poor young women who have so recently lost their lives on our streets. Knowing you'd lived there yourself until recently, I wondered if you might have heard of these attacks in Paris, and whether you think it might be possible that some crazed Frenchman has crossed the ocean in order to perpetuate his murderous schemes upon our shores.”
I tried to conceal my relief at that point, and gave him the reply I'd already formulated long before, in case such a question came up: “Ah, Alex, I see why you might think that. First of all, let me say that Paris is a very large place, a city far greater than anything we have here in America at this time, and news, even that of murder, can take time to spread by word of mouth. As for the written word, the press, I must confess I spent only a short time living in that great city, and though I knew enough of the spoken language to survive and prosper, I was never very well versed in the reading of French and never bothered to attempt to read their indecipherable newspapers,” I lied without blinking.
In fact, I spoke and read French as a native would, but that knowledge was mine alone.
“I confess, I heard nothing of any such murders during my time in the city,” the lies rolled off my tongue like honey. “But as to your second point, I would think it quite possible that if the murders there have ceased, as I presume must have happened for you to suggest such a thing, it would be quite possible that the killer has fled to these shores. Lord knows, there are enough Frenchies here already and more arriving every week so it seems.”
“Yes, I think that may be the answer.” Alex nodded. “When next I speak to the commissioner, I shall suggest he directs his inquiries in the direction of recent arrivals from France, particularly those of the lower classes, from whence I would think such a bestial killer originates.”
I feigned a cough to conceal my amusement at this absurd theory. As if some base and peasant-like French laborer could prowl the city streets by night, in his workmen's garb, attracting and killing pretty young things in affluent neighborhoods! So ridiculous, but good for me, I thought.
We parted soon after. I'd intended to speak to Alexander Hamilton again, offering my services and opinions to law enforcement as a consultant, if necessary, inveigling myself into their investigations, the better to ascertain what intelligence, if any, they possessed. Mayhap another time…
Chapter Thirty-Six
Maria
Jacob stayed for two weeks, having a grand time. Lodging at the nearby Poughkeepsie Inn, he arrived at Susannah's every morn at ten, in time for the serving of breakfast. Weather permitting, we rode Susannah's and Gilbert's horses with picnic lunches. He played games with the young ones, lawn bowling, blocks, and spelling bees. Evenings we adults spent in the music room. I played violin with Susannah at the harpsichord. I did not let Alex fill my thoughts. Mayhap the proverb “out of sight, out of mind” held some truth after all.
Jacob never mentioned Alex or my upcoming divorce again. But he threw out subtle hints about my accepting his marriage proposal.
“Ah, what a perfect eve for star-struck lovers to plan a future together.” He held my hand under the full moon's pearly glow on Susannah's terrace one night. “I do hope at this moment under this same moon, some lucky man is receiving a breathless 'oh, yes!' to a marriage proposal he just offered his lady love, and they plan their future for a happy and joyous life together.”
I pulled my shawl closer round my shoulders. “Jacob, I assure you there is. But as for us, I told you I need wait until my divorce is final. And today I received a letter from Aaron Burr. Due to his heavy caseload, he must delay my divorce until the end of May.”
Jacob gave a haughty hrrumph. “He knew what his caseload was when he agreed to represent you. There is no reason your divorce should take as long as Burr is taking. Do you believe he is deliberately dragging this out so that you will reconsider and stay married?” He sipped at his port and gave his manicured fingernails a glance.
“Why would he do that?” I shot back. “He is in business to service clients, not turn them away.”
“Mayhap he hopes if you stay married, it won't give Hamilton any reason to divorce his wife. He will continue to pursue you, and whatever pretty face and fetching figure catches his roving eye. Then the scandalous story can really blow up and further ruin his reputation. It is well known he and Burr are political adversaries. Burr would do anything to make life unbearable for Hamilton.”
I shook my head. “No, Aaron would not do something like that. He doesn't know about Alex and me.”
Jacob leant forward and lifted my chin with his forefinger. “Maria, it is no secret any longer. Ever since Monroe and those congressmen got wind of your and Hamilton's illicit liaison, the entire congress knows. As well as President Washington. You think these men do not tattle amongst themselves over their grogs in the taverns? The longer your liaison lasts, the better for the scandal mongers. And the worse for Hamilton. And he knows that.”
“Then why has not he ended it?” I blurted, the words barely out of my mouth when I realized what I'd just said. For all I knew Alex could have ended it. I hadn't heard a word from him since I arrived here. He ignored my letters. I hung onto my hopes by a thread, but I hung on.
“When was the last time you heard from him?” Jacob prodded.
“I wish not to speak of this any further, Jacob. It is late. You should retire to your room at the inn. I bid you good night.” Without looking back, I stood and strode from the balcony, inside and up the stairs to my room, leaving him to see himself out.
From my front-facing room, I watched his carriage depart. If Jacob wasn't bluffing and congress did know about us, yes, it would create a scandal. Until the next senator or cabinet member got caught with a woman not his wife. I could not see Alex shunning our love because James Monroe shot off his big mouth. And Jacob was far wrong about Aaron Burr. He was not dragging out my divorce proceedings, delaying the date of the finalization.
I was.
Eliza
I wanted to give Mrs. Reynolds's diamond ear bob back to her, but was unsure if she'd returned from New York. Her home was not far from ours, and I needed to escape the chaos of the household. So I left instructions with the servants and took myself on a leisurely walk, heading in the direction of the Reynolds house.
The Irish maid answered my knock at the door.
“No, Mrs. Hamilton, Mrs. Reynolds is not retorned from New York yet. I haven't hord word when she will.”
“Is Mr. Reynolds in residence?” As soon as I spoke those words, I regretted it. Why I felt the need for James Reynolds's company, I wasn't sure. But I could have sat and chatted with him over his smooth whisky all afternoon, listening to his Scottish burr. I had no immediate desire to return home.
“Nay, ma'am.” As she shook her head, instant relief flooded me. Wanting to chat with James Reynolds all afternoon over whisky? What was I thinking?
“I shall r
eturn another time. Thank you, Maggie.”
“Margaret,” she corrected me.
With the warm spring sunshine on my back, I walked from there to Annie Bates's house, stopping at the market for some apples, pears and nuts to bring her.
She greeted me warmly and munched on one of the apples. I accepted a glass of port.
“And what brings the pleasure of your company here, Elizabeth?” She wiped juice from her chin.
“I escaped the asylum for a few hours.” We shared a laugh.
“Havin' raised four pups, I know your plight.” She took another bite. “Sometimes you want to burrow through a mole hole for some peace and quiet.”
“And I've reconsidered, Annie. I wish to engage your services again. I need you to continue following Mrs. Reynolds. I now know of her affair with my husband and need to know if they're still seeing each other. That will determine what I decide to do—ultimately.” I sipped the sweet port.
She chomped and slurped at her apple as she nodded. “Of course. I'll start this eve.”
“No, she's not back from New York yet. I will let you know when she returns.”
“You're paying me, Elizabeth.” She gave me her wry grin. “I'll let you know.”
Maria
April 15, Ten of Clock Eve
When Jacob asked me to return to Philadelphia with him, the pleading in his eyes was too much to bear.
Glancing about Susannah's high-ceilinged sitting room adorned with velvet drapes and plush carpets, I knew I could have this and more if I married him. But I was simply not ready to give him an answer. I'd asked Aaron Burr to delay the divorce proceedings—because I needed to hold Jacob off. I still held my breath awaiting word from Alex. Yes, I clung to my dream. However, my voice of reason berated me. The longer I waited for his letters, the less likely I was to receive any.
Hence I remained in limbo—on Hell's border, as was the literal meaning of 'limbo.'
“I shall go back with you, Jacob,” I told him.
His face lit up and he clasped my hands. “Oh, thank you, my dearest! We can stop at Nyack and go rowing on the Hudson, then visit New York City and feast on a superb Italian dinner at Caruso's on the Broad Way—”
“No, Jacob.” I held up my hand, palm out. “I really need to return and attend to some business.”
“What bus—oh, of course. You need to hustle Burr along. Mayhap you should threaten to hire another lawyer.” A cocked brow accompanied his suggestion.
“Like Alex, for instance?” I cast him a sideways glance. “No, I'll not change lawyers. Unlike you, I am not in a particular hurry. Neither is James. I don't believe he's even hired a lawyer yet.”
“I'm sorry. I don't mean to rush you. But I love you and want you to be my wife, and if I'm at fault for that, I hope you'll forgive me.” He clasped my hands.
“Jacob, you're too good for me.” My emotions churned inside. I did love him, but was it enough to marry him? Especially if Alex and I stayed lovers…
My heart took a little leap, as I now knew I'd at least be in close proximity to Alex within days. Soon I'd gaze into those violet eyes and feel those soft lips upon mine. I planned to do everything in my power to recapture what never should have slipt away.
Next morn, I bade farewell to Susannah and the little ones with a promise to be together again soon. “Let me know how the twins fare. I'm sure they'll grow fast.” I held Susannah's hands as our tears fell freely.
“And you let me know how you fare with—” We exchanged knowing glances. She needn't finish. With Jacob standing there and surrounded by tykes and servants, it was better left unsaid.
Jacob wore me down with his incessant prattle about rowing, so I let him take me rowing on the Hudson. It delayed the journey home by two days, but the closer I got to the uncertainty awaiting me, I preferred putting it off.
When his carriage pulled up to my front door, the house stood in bleak darkness. Not that I expected James to be in. I'd fully anticipated stumbling around in the dark lighting candles.
I wanted to be alone, so I bade Jacob good night at the door after he helped me light six candles and a fire in the hearth. The driver dropt my trunks on the landing as Jacob invited me to his home one more time.
“No, Jacob, I'm very tired, and I'll be fine here.”
“You will let me know your progress with Burr?” His hands clasped my arms and I stepped into his embrace. He held me tight.
“Of course.” I hadn't expected his warm kiss. But it was Alex I really wanted. Jacob finally departed and I turned to face my empty house.
Next morn, James hadn't come back, but I found Maggie in the kitchen brewing coffee.
“Welcome home, Mrs. Reynolds,” she greeted me as I rifled through the post. Nothing from Alex. I flinged it back down on the table.
“Maggie, have you seen Mr. Reynolds?” Through the long night, I'd hoped James would slip into bed next to me, for I felt so alone.
She shook her head, wiping her hands on her apron. “He's hardly here now. He let me stay on and cook and clean, but I secured anudder position living with a family on Market Street.”
“Good for you,” I muttered as she placed a cup of coffee, three biscuits and butter before me. James was undoubtedly with his lover. As I should be with mine.
Desperate to see Alex, I grabbed my cloak and walked to his law office. My heart hammering, I knocked on his door. The latch rattled and a young clerk answered. I couldn't stop trembling as I asked for him.
“He's not here today, ma'am, he's at the treasury.”
Determined to see him, I turned and walked over there. It was near five of clock, he'd be coming out any minute. Not to appear as a loitering streetwalker, I strolled down the block and back again. Finally, at quarter of six, he exited the doors, but with four other men, engaged in intense discussion. My heart leapt at the sight of him. I flattened myself against the brick wall on the corner. They turned and headed in the opposite direction. I did not want to follow them. But I did—all the way to the City Tavern. Dared I wait there till God knows what time?
Too embarrassed to loiter any longer, I turned and headed home.
Next morn, my need to see him surpassed my hunger. I pushed around the eggs Maggie had scrambled for me, unable to take one bite. My stomach churned, my heart clobbered my ribs. “You hardly touched yur breakfast,” she commented as I slid the chair back and stood.
Unable to answer her, I tore down the hall to the outdoor privy and lost what little I'd eaten. I staggered back in and collapsed onto the sofa. Maggie hovered over me, offering me some homemade tincture. “I am so desperate I'll try anything,” I groaned.
She returned within the half hour, carrying one of our glasses filled with a liquid that looked too much like urine to be palatable.
“This medicine has been very serviceable to others before, and I would have you try it, Mrs. Reynolds,” she urged.
She helped me sit up. “What is it?” I was afraid to ask, but I must.
“Tis a bit o'ginseng steeped in claret. Take it in strength and quantity as you find suits your stomach best,” she instructed. “I left some in the kitchen. You may also try stewing it in water if the wine be too harsh. But you had best slice it thin, and bruise it in an iron mortar. And if you still be ill, I will summon yur doctor.”
“No, no doctor.” Too ill to drink it, I let her spoon feed it to me.
She departed, leaving the glass on the table. I took a brave swig of the pungent elixir and my stomach finally settled. I dragged myself upstairs to pretty up.
I pulled my hair back off my face and secured it with two jeweled combs. Wearing my newest azure satin creation from Mrs. Graisbury with matching cloak trimmed in blue fox, I took one more glance in the looking glass. My face had gone so pale from being sick, my rouge looked blotchy. I grabbed a cloth, dipped it in the now-cold tea water and scrubbed it off.
I headed out the door, determined to meet with Alex even if I had to sit and wait all day.
&n
bsp; The outer door of his building was unlatched, so I boldly stepped into the vestibule. Voices floated down the stairs, his and another man's. Ah, he's here! I clutched at my chest, as if that could calm my hammering heart. My dry tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. The hallway had no chairs, so I crouched on the bottom step, held my hands to my cramping stomach and doubled over. Trembling, I wiped cold sweat from my forehead and palms.
I hadn't been this nervous that very first night I met him.
I forced myself to breathe deep, and on the third breath, a door closed. As footsteps descended the stairs, I stood and turned. A man I didn't recognize gave me a strange look, passed me and walked out. Now I knew Alex was alone.
I became more dizzy as I climbed each step. Oh, God, let this be a joyous reunion! I took one long breath in and out. My hand grasped the knob to his office door.
I turned the knob, pushed the door open, and there he sat behind his desk. He looked up and our eyes met. I nearly fainted. “Oh, Alex…” I grabbed onto the door frame.
He jumped to his feet, rushed up to me and held out his arms. I collapsed into his embrace, weeping with relief and sheer joy.
“Alex, why did you not write back to me?” I blurted out, and realizing this, I added, “Oh, how I missed you!”
He held me at arm's length and his eyes searched my face. I knew how sickly I looked, and hoped he would not comment on it. “I have been very busy.”
A mix of relief and disappointment swirled round my heart. I grasped him so tightly, I could feel his arm muscles beneath his shirt. “Then you do not wish to end it?”
He shook his head. “No, but I do confess my work has not given me much, if any, time to think of you in your absence. Every night I fell into bed exhausted. I am aging, I fear.”
“No, you are as young and virile as ever…” My voice trailed off. I no longer cared how much I'd suffered in past weeks, agonizing over whether he wanted me any longer. “All that matters is this moment.”
His eyes told me all I needed to know. Dear God, he still loves me! I sparkled with excitement.