Eliza's His Wife

by ecol

Two years have passed since a winter's ball. Elizabeth and Alexander are finally courted with their future on their minds. With their lives stretched out before them, and a wedding fast-approaching, everything must be perfect. Or is it? Third and final installment to the Helpless Trilogy.

2. Part 2: Angelica

Angelica

A freeze is settling upon the house as the sun creeps over the horizon. The gray sky threatens snow, even though it is only the fourth of December.

I rise, still in my night clothes. My bare feet feel the cold wood. I shudder, realizing my fire from last night is completely out.

I walk downstairs, my hand gripping the beam. I didn't sleep well last night. I haven't slept well in months.

I feel so cruel, lying to her like this.

Alexander and I have been writing each other for the past month and a half. He sends Eliza twenty letters at a time in bursts; in between bursts, he talks to me.

Alexander Hamilton is one of the most well-written men in the thirteen colonies. His talent surpasses, dare I say, George Washington himself.

He tells me of camp life, he tells me of adventures and campmates and war time food. He tells me everything under the sun. When he isn't talking about these things, he speaks of my angelic younger sister.

I am evil.

I know she's worried about him. I know she's worried about him, but I can't tell her that he is fine. That he has intentions that would cause her to faint upon hearing them.

I see my two siblings at the table, still in their

night clothes. They enjoy breakfast porridge and make quiet talk. Eliza doesn't talk much in the morning, I speak no words, but from the minute Peggy rises she is non-stop blabber.

She talks of new dresses and shoes this morning. Eliza nods in agreement, occasionally giving a word of approval. I am silent, as per usual.

"Good morning, Angelica!" Peggy squeezes my hand and I smile at her. Eliza beams at both of us. I stick my spoon into my younger sibling's porridge, taking a bit bite. The porridge is warm and tastes like home.

"Hey!" Peggy smacks my hand and the spoon clunks to the floor. I sigh, grabbing the spoon. I put it next to my empty plate, unable to keep my eyes open.

I get up from the table, realizing the uselessness of coming down here. I wander back upstairs to put on decent clothes.

I hear footsteps coming from my parents' room. I open my door. I see Philip and Catherine Schuyler descending the staircase, a look of excitement plastered on both of their faces.

I grab my peach gown from my closet and begin to put it on. I fix my hair by brushing it out and putting it into a half ponytail.

I meander upstairs for a few moments, digging under my fingernails out of nervousness. I want to tell Eliza that Alexander is coming home today, that my parents are going to-.

Eliza loves him.

He loves Eliza. She's all he ever talks about, when he's talking at all.

Eliza wants to marry him. He wants to-

The thought makes my entire body fill with anger. My heart freezes itself in my chest as i clutch the railing of the stairs

I take three deep breaths, trying to control my shame, disappointment, frustration and sadness. They build to a peak, slamming into me in waves. I let go.

I'm crying. I'm crying with endless terror, crying with endless shame.

I am in love with Alexander Hamilton