Angelica
My mother has exquisite taste when it comes to parties. At this particular ball, a winter's ball, to be exact, my mother decided to take lanterns and tie them to the ceiling with rope. They illuminate the room in odd corners, but it looks quite beautiful to me. She also placed two banisters full of candles along the back wall, which do the same thing the lanterns do.
I am the first one downstairs out of the three of us. Tonight I am wearing a pink dress with orange highlights. There is a thin belt around my waist that accentuates my figure. I straighten my skirt as I hear the clicking of heels on the stairs. Eliza is the first one to appear. She is in the same blue gown that she was in on our trip to Manhattan in August. I am surprised that she is able to deal with the December freeze in a dress so thin.
Eliza takes my hands and kisses my cheek. I smile and stroke her cheek. "You look lovely, Elizabeth."
Eliza glows, her large apple cheeks flushing as they always do. "As do you, Angelica."
Margarita sweeps down the stairs, her large yellow gown twirling at her legs. She takes a deep breath in, her entire chest moving. "My dear sisters, who is ready for a party?!"
My sibling and I giggle at the youngest Schuyler sister; the most beautiful out of the three of us. Eliza, the most practical, only laughs along. I, the wittiest, of course, must respond with my sharpest tongue.
"My dear sister, if you are referring to us, I believe that you are no longer a Schuyler."
Peggy gasps, dramatically pretending to faint. "My sister has disowned me!"
All three of us laugh again, the sound like ringing bells. We huddle together and wait for our mother to check in on us.
Catherine Schuyler sweeps into the room, her dark magenta gown glowing in the light of the lanterns. She makes a stern face at us, looking us up and down.
"Elizabeth," our mother's voice bounces off of every crevice. "Where is your winter party dress? Aren't you freezing?"
Elizabeth calculates her words in her head. "It always becomes stuffy in here when more people arrive, mother. I was just thinking of dancing in sweaty shoes. Quite uncomfortable, if you ask me."
Our mother nods. "Very practical of you. Do either of you feel the need to change?"
Peggy and I both shake our heads. I prefer the heavier gowns; dancing in them makes you exhausted quicker, therefore giving me an excuse to be left alone by the older gentlemen who want to dance with the eldest Schuyler sister. I believe Peggy has a similar reasoning.
Catherine Schuyler exits the room, dismissing us. Nevertheless, we stand in the foyer, waiting for guests to arrive.
And do they arrive. Hoards of women in beautiful gowns and hats drop off their wraps with us. We make several runs to the coat room as more guests appear out of thin air.
Eliza and Peggy don't talk to me much, but that's acceptable; more and more people come up to us with congratulatory remarks on our father's work, as well as the compliments and the lucky stars and all of those sorts of words. I think of it as superficial, and don't think too much of it.
The last wave of people arrives at about seven-thirty. In this wave is a group of patriot soldiers. They are dressed in their finest blue uniforms, freshly corn starched and ironed. All of them look rather dashing to me.
However, only one officially catches my eye.
He has big brown eyes and a little bit of scruff right under his cheekbones. He has dark hair and smile lines that stand out harshly. He makes me feel warm. As soon as I blink, he is gone.
I turn to my sister, whispering in her ear. "Did you see that man?"
Eliza is breathless. "Yes. That's Colonel Hamilton," she doesn't make eye contact with me, and her face is flushed. "Colonel Alexander Hamilton."
Alexander Hamilton. Aide-de-camp Alexander Hamilton. From what I hear he is quite a man. Eliza shakes her head, except I don't think the action is toward me. She mutters something to herself as she walks away.
I don't think much of his name, but continue to waltz around the room. Other greet me with smiles, some with curtsies. No handshakes. All compliments begin with the words "Miss Schuyler". If I told you I didn't mind, I would be lying…
An hour must have passed at this point; the sun is long gone. My younger sister is beside me again. Eliza is glowing, but for all the wrong reasons; she appears to be terrified. I press a hand to her shoulder. "Are you alright, Elizabeth?..."
"I'm okay," Eliza shakes herself out of it. Then, a smile stretches across her lips. She points to the one corner of the room. She is pointing directly at Colonel Hamilton. "This one's mine."
I giggle, detaching from my sister. I press a finger to my lips, telling her not to say anything. I walk over to Alexander and his freckled friend. I can feel Eliza's frustration begin to boil. This time, there's nothing I can do about it. Well, I mean, of course there is something I can do about it. I am just choosing not to.
I am all the way across the room in a matter of seconds. Alexander Hamilton looks up at me, a glazy look in his captivating eyes…
I bow my head and he does the same. "You strike me as a woman who has never been satisfied.
"I don't know what you mean. You forget yourself, Colonel."
"You're like me. I'm never satisfied…"
"Is that right?"
"I have never been satisfied," Hamilton's aura becomes dark, and I feel uncomfortable. However it quickly fades away. I melt when he takes my hand and kisses it.
"Angelica Schuyler."
"Alexander Hamilton."
"Where is your family from, Colonel Hamilton?" My eyebrow perks up when I ask this question. However, he does not accept the wit. His hands fidget.
"Unimportant, my lady," Hamilton brushes the question off. "Just you wait."
