Eliza

Angelica holds my hand, squeezing so hard that her knuckles are white. The carriage is rocking so hard and I am surprised that my elder sister has not gotten sick yet. She has a terribly weak stomach, despite the way she can take a chunk out of you with the things she says. Terribly intelligent, but at times judgmental.

Our younger sister, Peggy, sits across from us. Today she is wearing a yellow dress that is brighter than the heavens themselves. She looks lovely in yellow, especially with her caramel complexion and big brown eyes that glow when sunlight hits them.

Angelica's peach dress has a glowing quality to it as well. Against the dark blue velvet of the carriage it looks hideous, but on my sister the dress is one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen.

As we ride into the city, the steeples of churches are already coming into view. The carriage continues to wobble on the cobblestone as New York City opens up to us.

Peggy is amused already; her eyes have a shiny quality to them as she looks through the tiny window of the carriage. Not just steeples are in view now; post offices and breweries and coffee shops are now bustling with women in flowy cream gowns or men in cream vests and pantaloons.

The haze of August coats the buildings, trees, and even the sidewalks; if you couldn't see the haze, you would know by the way my darling Angelica's hair frizzes up when we venture outdoors. Speaking of her, her grip is not as hard upon my hand now as we park next to a sidewalk.

Our footman, Stephen, hops off the front of the carriage, stealthily opening the door for the three eldest Schuyler daughters. Peggy jumps out first, unable to control herself. She reaches up into the sky and squeals, disturbing a young lady attempting to buy flowers.

"Peggy, keep it down!" Angelica exclaims, stepping out of the carriage. "Mother would have you stuffed back into the carriage if she saw you behaving like that."

Angelica reconvenes with our sibling as I take deep breath in. Today I am going to see Manhattan; one of the greatest islands in the thirteen colonies. Today I am going to take over this city with my sisters; I'm going to have fun today.

I climb out of my seat, carefully placing my foot down on the first step. Stephen takes my hand and I smile brightly. Stephen and I have known each other our entire lives. I would consider us good friends. It's just that we have both been busy with our own issues, and haven't spent much time together.

"Thank you, Stephen," I realize that I am the only one of us who thanked him, and my cheeks flush. I think of the implications of my words, over and then over again-

"It is no burden at all, Miss Schuyler," Stephen tips his hat and climbs back into the driver's seat. "Enjoy the rest of your afternoon."

I push a piece of my hair behind my ear, giving him a casual grin. His words are a relief, and I don't overthink myself when I go to speak again. "You too…"

The sound of the carriage taking off on the cobblestone is relaxing. It reminds me of my childhood, and the travels my siblings and I would take with my father to and from my aunt's house in South Carolina. As the clatter fades away, I realize that I am with the best company in the greatest city in the world.

Angelica had not headed out until I had finished my conversation, which is a relief; usually she is so determined to get somewhere that she would leave me in the dust. As the eldest, she takes the lead, and I grasp my younger sibling's hand, our heels clicking against the sidewalk.

I can't help but to look around and take it all in. Everything feels larger than life here; Albany is a little different, after all. I couldn't help but notice that I am starting to feel smaller and smaller as we dive further into the city.

I look ahead of me, trying to ease my worries. I notice that the edge of Angelica's dress catches on the cobblestone, making a gentle scuff sound. I tune in to the fact that my dress is doing this as well. The sounds of the carriages, the clicking of heels, and the mild scuffs bring me back down to Earth again.

Peggy squeezes my hand as we approach the edge of mid and downtown. "Daddy said to be home by sundown…"

Angelica turns her head toward the sound of Peggy's voice. "Daddy doesn't need to know, Peggy!"

"But he said not to go downtown!"

It's my turn to comfort our outright worry wort. "Remember what I told you at the house. You're free to go, my dear."

As we continue walking, there is a flag in a window shop. The flag is yellow with a snake coiled up in the middle. Under the snake, the words read, "Don't Tread On Me".

Angelica acknowledges the flag and mutters to herself, "The revolution is happening in New York…"

I see my own reflection in the glass, almost ignoring the flag all together. As I am glancing, I make eye contact with the shop owner. He is dusting a book. He smiles at me, but doesn't say anything. My cheeks become flushed and I step away, a guilty feeling creeping up into my chest.

"Angelica, daddy wants to go to war." Peggy wrings her hands in each other, and doesn't say anything else. I continue to lead her down, not replying to my sibling.

As my sisters and I reach the top half of downtown Manhattan, a crowd begins to form. People are screeching, holding up papers and yelling things such as "tax" and "tea" and "bloodshed".

I can already feel my chest tightening up, however not with aching anxiety. I feel the need to rush over there, to see what the fuss is about, but the logical response is to stay with my sisters.

I phrase it as a question, unable to look away. "People shouting in the square?..."

I think of Angelica's copy of Common Sense on her bed. She used to tell me all about it, how it was simply "common sense" to separate from England; I knew that separating was the only way from the beginning. However, as I see this group of people form, the phrase "intelligent debate" does not even cross my mind.

I have always been the sister that thinks with her head, not with her heart. The practical one, the simple one. I could be picked out in a crowd each time with no trouble.

But today, I don't follow my head. I detach my hand from my sibling's as she and Angelica take a look at some shoes in another store window. I am almost all the way to the outer ring of crowd when I hear my name being called. It is a faint whisper compared to their shouts. I am wrapped up in the commotion of the people.

I finally understand what exactly the people are screaming about; and I notice that while the group of people are fluid, every single one is a man. Big men, small men, round men and skinny men. They are all either in patriot blue or neutral cream.

I am the only woman in a group of patriots. Lovely.

The group continues to call out until a man in a dark black robe steps onto a box. He holds out a letter pad, a quill in his hand. The crowd voices their displeasure with this specific man with boos and whoops and slurs. The man in black looks discouraged, but continues on with whatever he was saying before.

"Hear ye! Hear ye! My name is Samuel Seabury, and I present Free Thoughts on the proceedings of the Continental Congress!"

The words don't hit me until they do. The man before us is a Loyalist.

Oh dear God. They're going to tear him apart!