Summer, 1797
On the morning Angelica Schuyler Church faced the most important decision in her life, the only thing out of the norm was the grim expression on her husband's face when she sat down to take her breakfast.
"What is it?" she asked.
"I think you need to read this."
John said nothing more, simply sliding the paper across the table towards her. He did not return her smile as she took it, opening to the first page:
Observations on Certain Documents Contained in No. V & VI of "The History of the United States for the Year 1796," In which the Charge of Speculation Against Alexander Hamilton, Late Secretary of the Treasury, is Fully Refuted. Written by Himself.
Her lips quirked. Alexander had never been one to do things by halves. With a title like that, he was sure to let the whole world know whatever he wanted to tell them.
She was stunned to say the least, that this – whatever it was – had found its way to England, but if it meant news from Alexander, she was excited.
So she began to read.
It wasn't at all surprising to Angelica that Alexander had picked up a pen and written a response to whatever it was that had angered him, especially when she remembered him mentioning something akin to this in some of his most recent letters. She desperately wanted to understand everything her Alexander wrote to her, but sometimes things were beyond even her comprehension.
But John's tone had some sense of foreboding, and as soon as she'd finished reading the second sentence, she knew he was right.
The charge against me is a connection with one James Reynolds for purposes of improper speculation. My real crime is an amorous connection with his wife for a considerable time, with his knowing consent…
She felt sick, and only continued to feel more so as she continued reading.
…if not originally brought on by a combination between the husband and wife with the design to extort money from me.
Alexander had never said anything – of course he wouldn't – but Eliza had expressed concern once or twice about funds. She hadn't been surprised that Eliza didn't know the details, but she would have never guessed exactly why Alexander had been hiding it.
This confession is not made without a blush.
That line enraged her more than anything else. It meant nothing. She had known from the very beginning that Alexander would never be satisfied; that nothing would ever be enough for him. And yet he still had the nerve to say he was guilty.
She pushed the paper away. She couldn't read any more.
For almost the entirety of her married life, the letters Alexander would send her were her one consolation. John was kind to her, and she couldn't deny that London was a beautiful city; but it wasn't home, and he wasn't Alexander.
Now she didn't know if she'd ever be able to read anything her brother-in-law wrote ever again.
"I have to leave," she was already leaving the table, her breakfast untouched in front of her. "I have to go see Eliza."
Angelica didn't realise John had followed her until she looked up from her packing to see him. He was standing at the doorway to her bedroom, still and silent, watching her.
"When?" he asked.
"I'll leave on the next available ship," her eyes had returned to her bag before she finished the sentence. She hadn't bothered to call Ginny. She needed to do something to keep her mind off what she'd just read, so calling the maid seemed unnecessary.
"Will you write me when you're coming back?"
"John," she sighed and looked up at him. "I'm not going to come back. Eliza needs me."
"Then I'm coming with you," he said without missing a beat.
"No, you can't," she returned.
She expected him to reply commenting on the bonds between husband and wife; how she had a duty to return, or that, as husband and wife, they had to stay together, and if she wouldn't return to London, he would follow her.
But he didn't say anything of the kind.
"Angelica…" he sighed. "I know you never wanted any of this. But I like to believe we are at least friends."
"We are," she replied slowly.
"And I have never insisted on anything from you; I would never want to push you, or make you feel uncomfortable, because…" he paused for so long, Angelica wondered if he was going to continue at all.
He did.
"Because I love you."
She gasped, but for the first time she truly realised how considerate her husband had been. From day one, she had been married to John Barker Church in name only. And now, over a decade later, nothing had changed.
Because he knew that she never wanted it to.
"I just had to tell you," he added softly.
She could do nothing but stand there, slowly processing what her husband had just revealed to her.
"I know you don't share my feelings, and I don't expect you to, but please, let me come with you," he was almost babbling now. "As a friend."
"You understand I won't be coming back?" she restated. If he was determined to come, he needed to fully understand the situation. "If you decide to come back, I won't return with you?"
"Yes."
"Alright," she nodded. "I would like that."
The ship they were to take left for New York the following day.
Angelica rubbed her eyes blearily, her suitcase still firmly grasped in her hand. She hadn't let it go since she'd collected it as she and John left for the dock. It felt as if it were her lifeline; her one singular tether to her sister, proof that she would help her.
"You did not sleep last night, did you?" John wasn't asking.
"No."
Angelica hadn't touched the pamphlet since yesterday morning, and she had not read much, but she could still see it in her mind, row after row of Alexander's handwriting, over and over again.
amorous connection with his wife
amorous connection with his wife
amorous connection with his wife
How could he do this to Eliza?
Kind, trusting, beautiful Eliza, who was helpless and heartbroken back in New York, while she was all the way across the sea?
Why had she encouraged her sister's relationship with Alexander? She knew Eliza was head over heels for him, but would it have been better for her to break Eliza's heart seventeen years ago, or for Alexander to break it now? She had known from the very beginning that Alexander would want more than he had, more than he ever could have.
He had a wife who adored him, despite his blinding ambition, five beautiful children, and a position in the forefront of the building of their fledgling nation.
It still wasn't enough.
His legacy was more important than his family, and his image meant more to him than his conscience.
Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but even with the inborn dissatisfaction he'd told her about within a minute of making her acquaintance, Angelica would never have thought he would do something like this?
She briefly wondered if maybe she would've been better off with Alexander. It would certainly have spared Eliza the heartbreak, and she would go through the pain herself if it meant her sister didn't have to.
"It is going to be alright," her husband's soft voice broke her from her reverie. "Eliza has you."
"I introduced them to each other," she said, a lump in her throat. "I'm at fault here."
Would it have been better for everyone if she had never introduced Alexander Hamilton to her sister?
"No," he said firmly. "You could never have known this would happen. And if you had, you wouldn't have done it."
His comment didn't require an answer, so Angelica remained silent.
In the past twenty-four hours she had seen more of her husband than ever before. She had never realised how well John knew her.
Or how little she knew about him.
Since she'd made the decision to leave London, she'd had time to think about John coming with her. She had never wanted to marry him, but as the years went by, she had realised she did enjoy her husband's company.
She was glad she wouldn't have to lose it.
"I would love to meet your sister," he commented gently.
"Thank you," she whispered. "I also would like for you to meet her."
People were talking about it in England. Nobody had asked Angelica about it – it was probable they did not even know they had a connection – but she heard whispers. She and John weren't the only ones who had received word of Alexander Hamilton's torrid affair.
He had indeed let the whole world know. To have an affair was one thing. To publicly announce it was a whole new kind of stupid.
Angelica wasn't sure which one she was angrier about.
She sighed as the ship pulled out of the harbour. It would take them three months to reach New York. Three months before she could comfort Eliza.
How on Earth was she supposed to wait that long?