Madison won't talk to me at all- dead end. Need to go around him, find someone he'll listen to… Jefferson hates me but he'd sell his soul to the devil to get a deal in his favor… only chance, have to get something through him. Madison will do whatever he says; I need something to get Jefferson to agree. But what does he want..?
"Alexander, come downstairs!"
Eliza's call jolts him out of his contemplation and he looks up from the paper that he's been scribbling on for the past hour. "I'll be there in a minute" he shouts down to her, frantically trying to scribble down his last thoughts as his wife's voice carries up the staircase again.
"Alexander!" He hears the edge in her voice and decides it's not wise to hold her off any longer.
Downstairs in the parlor he sees Philip waiting for him, staring at a small piece of paper in his hands. Eliza stands next to him, holding little Angelica by the hand. She looks up as he enters. "Sit down, Philip has something to show you- he's been practicing all day". She gives her son a pat on the shoulder, and Philip looks up at his father with mix of excitement and nervousness on his small face. Alexander looks at his son and nods. "Go ahead son."
Philip tucks the scrap of paper into his pocket, takes a deep breath, and begins to recite his poem.
"My name is Philip…"
For the first time in God knows how long he finds himself with a genuine smile and a rush of pride as he watches his son. He glances over to see Eliza beaming as well as she listens to Philip, little Angelica settled in her lap.
Sitting there surrounded by his family, listening to his son recite the words he's worked so hard on to impress his father, Alexander suddenly feels a stab of guilt. His son is already nine. Soon he'll be a young man. He tries to connect that image with that of the little babe he held in his arms what seems like only yesterday. He's missed out on so much of Philip's life- of both his children's lives. They're growing up and he hasn't been there to see it happen.
What kind of life has he given his children? He glances again at his wife. What kind of life has he given Eliza? Is this everything she had hoped for?
As Philip finishes and he rises to give his son a standing ovation, he vows to himself to spend more time with his family.
Deep in his heart, he understands the futility of this promise. Life in the political world means a choice between one or the other, and it seems he made his long-ago.
The whole month Eliza has been trying to convince him to go upstate for the summer with their family. She's cajoled, entreated, sweet-talked, and come the closest he's ever seen his wife to threatening in her attempts to wear him down. He replies that he wishes he could go and it's no lie- he desperately wishes to get out of New York for a while to escape all the backstabbing and animosity of the political world and spend time with his family.
Since Philip's birthday he has tried harder to be there for his children, allotting what little spare time he can allow to spending with them. He knows it isn't enough, but the deadline for the debt plan is drawing closer and closer on top of all his other responsibilities and he is no closer to finding a solution. Still, he continues feel pangs of guilt whenever he leaves the house in the early hours of the morning or comes home late at night long after his family is asleep.
But Washington has given him an order, and he must get this plan through Congress before anything else, even his family. He repeats this to himself, over and over, because without the constant reminder it would be too difficult to look into Eliza's eyes as she tells him everything he will be missing upstate and say for the umpteenth time that he's very busy, that he won't be able to make it. Despite this, his wife asks him at every free moment to reconsider his decision not to join her and the children. He can't recall Eliza ever being as determined as she is about this, and it makes the refusal even harder.
If I don't get this plan through Congress, we won't be able to spend summers upstate. I'll lose my job. Everything is riding on this.
Alexander repeats this mantra to himself. The dissatisfaction won't go away.
He writes these doubts and many more to Angelica. Most of his friends are either dead or far away, and his wife is so preoccupied with taking care of their expanding family and all the worries and concerns that go with it that he can't bring himself to add any more to her troubles. Angelica is the only one who he feels he can really open up to, and who can give him the advice he needs to hear. He wishes it didn't take weeks for him to receive it.
Her latest letter is no different: You must get through to Jefferson. Don't stop until you agree.
What he would give to have her here with him, to hear her fervently expressing her ideas and giving him the strength to somehow make this all work. He is tired, more tired than he has ever been in his life.
He sets the letter aside and resumes his work.
On the day Angelica arrives he is once again in the study, still trying to work out a way to get the two sides to compromise.
I have to get this plan through Congress. There isn't much time. I have to get this plan through Congress. I have to-
He's starting to get truly desperate, going over every option and idea over and over, but the breakthrough he needs is nowhere to be found. He hasn't truly slept in days, and fears that he's starting to lose his mind. The words of Aaron Burr keep repeating over and over in his head.
Talk less, smile more.
"Alexander! Angelica's arrived!"
Thoughts still circling, he comes downstairs to see Angelica and Eliza locked in a tight hug, laughing from excitement and happiness after such a long separation.
Angelica…"The Schuyler sisters" he says softly, more to himself than anyone else. The two break apart and his sister-in-law turns to him with a wide smile.
"It's so good to see your face."
He offers her a weak smile in return, trying to hide the exhaustion; belatedly he is hit with the realization that Angelica is here before him in the flesh after so long, after months and months of waiting and wishing with only her letters to content him. Angelica will be there, in New York, and he won't be able to see her because of this damned deal. He almost laughs from the sheer irony of it all.
He follows the two of them into the parlor as they continue to chatter breathlessly to each other. Finally Eliza turns to him and crosses her arms.
"Angelica, tell this man to spend the summer with his family."
He thinks he sees a flash of something in her eyes as she looks between the two of them.
Angelica stares at him. "You're not joining us upstate?" Her eyes narrow and he knows the storm is imminent. "I crossed the entire ocean to see you both, and you're not coming?"
For what he hopes is the final time, he explains that he cannot join. He's said the words so many times over the past weeks it comes almost without thinking, but it still leaves a sour taste in his mouth.
Eliza sighs, finally defeated, and he knows it's because she has been counting on Angelica as her ace- confident that she more than anyone else would be able to convince him to go. He can see Angelica preparing to launch into one of her impassioned tirades condemning him for working too hard. He knows she wants him to respond, to argue, but he is so overwhelmingly drained that he does not.
"I have to get my plan through Congress."
He turns away from the two women before either can say another word and goes back upstairs. He is tired.
I can't stop until I get this plan through Congress.
So very tired.