Autumn, 1797
No matter how slow one walked, they would eventually arrive at their destination. And Angelica didn't stop.
She tried to tell herself, over and over again, that she was making the journey to Alex and Eliza's house slowly because it was a beautiful day, and she wanted to savour it, or that taking her time was necessary given she had been in London for so long and was still acquainting herself with the city.
But she knew that neither were the truth.
She'd left the Pastures immediately after she'd breakfasted, and now it was surely almost time for luncheon, and she still hadn't made it into the city proper.
No, she was dawdling because she was anxious about the visit. About seeing Alexander again.
He opened the door looking more haggard than the last time Angelica had seen him. And he had looked terrible then.
His clothes were completely dishevelled, and almost seemed to be hanging off his frame. His glasses were askew; looking like they could fall off at any moment.
She briefly wondered if she could have caused this. Eliza had left for the Pastures as soon as the pamphlet had been published, but that had been almost four months ago.
Had her appearance in New York been that last nail in the coffin, or was Alexander's current state merely the cumulative result of how long he'd been by himself?
Whatever the case, this wasn't strain from working, or stress – she'd seen that before. No this was different. And much more serious.
What had he been doing? Or, more likely, what hadn't he been doing.
"Angelica…?" he said softly, wide-eyed.
"Alexan–
She began, but was interrupted when he spoke again.
"Is something wrong? Is Eliza – are the children –"
He sounded frantic. As terrible as everything that had happened had been, Angelica had never see Alexander so vulnerable.
"Yes, yes," she assured him. Seeing him again wasn't as painful as she'd expected. Not the way it had been the day she first arrived back in New York.
"Everyone is in good health. Actually, Eliza's pregnant."
A smile lit up his face. "Really?"
He looked away almost immediately; his smile vanished, and his voice became soft once again. "That – that's wonderful."
Just like when Eliza first told her the news, Angelica was unsure of what to say, even more so here with Alexander. Thankfully, she was spared having to respond when he kept talking.
"She asked you to tell me, didn't she?" he was resigned.
Angelica nodded.
Sighing, she reached up and gently touched his shoulder. Her assumptions were confirmed; he seemed to be barely more than skin and bones. Had he been eating at all?
"Alexander," she sighed. "You need to rest."
Forcing him to look at her, she added, for good measure: "to go to sleep." To Alexander rest and sleep were not the same thing.
He still said nothing. He wasn't looking after himself, and he had nothing to say. She could not tell what it was exactly that he regretted, but she knew, unquestionably, he did regret something. From the moment he was born, he had constantly been on the move, but now he was still and silent.
Angelica knew it wasn't about his career or his legacy. Not this time. When he heard the news that John Laurens had died, he had thrown himself into his work, pushing himself to the point of exhaustion. He wasn't doing anything like that now.
He wasn't doing anything.
It was almost as if he wanted to die; as if death was the only fitting punishment for his actions.
"I know you chose your career over your family," she sighed "But you can't fix that now. Take a break and look after yourself."
She could scarcely believe what she was saying. She felt as though she were condoning his actions. She should want him to burn, to hurt as much as he'd hurt Eliza, to lose any shred of pride he may have left, but she couldn't help it. She still cared about him.
He was still, and always would be, her first love.
Her first love?
Why had she suddenly thought that?
"I don't deserve your forgiveness. I know that," he sighed, breaking her reverie. "I certainly don't deserve hers."
Eliza was the best thing in his life, and seeing him like this – seeing how much he loved her – pleased Angelica just as much as it upset her.
"But could you just tell her –"
"Yes."
" – that I love her?"
"Yes."
"Thank you," he whispered with a nod.
"She loves you too," Angelica replied. "She told me so herself."
"She shouldn't."
"Maybe not," she mused. "But she does."
"And the children?"
"I promise I'll tell them," Angelica vowed. "Now, you need to get some sleep."
He looked as if he wanted to protest. How on Earth he could have the strength to do that was beyond her, but Alexander was nothing if not relentless, so she said the one thing she knew could make him listen:
"For Eliza?"
His shoulders sagged, but he said nothing. He simply took her hand and kissed it.
She smiled. Barely; but she smiled.
The journey home was much faster. Alice and some of the other maids were setting out afternoon tea when she arrived back. Her mother and father were in the parlour, her father, as was common nowadays, resting his legs to alleviate the pains from his old war wounds. She could see Kitty and Cornelia in the garden, but her other sister was nowhere to be found.
Angelica debated going to find Eliza but eventually decided against it. The last thing she needed was a reminder of her husband, even if he had all but broken himself in repentance. So she took a seat on the lounge beside her mother, poured herself some tea and helped herself to a sweet biscuit.
Angelica was relieved that neither of her parents asked where she had been earlier. She did not think they would entirely approve of her calling on her brother-in-law – Alexander was not exactly in his father-in-law's good graces at the moment.
But it was almost as embarrassing when her mother started talking about John. She wondered if either of them knew about his unglamorous past, because they only had positive things to say. She remained quiet and noncommittal as her mother extolled her husband's virtues, and her father continually remarked what good company he was.
It was almost as if they were indirectly punishing Alexander, though Angelica knew neither would admit that. All she could do was sit there, trying to sort through the new and unusual emotions she was feeling, and getting nowhere.
Returning to her bedroom required Angelica to pass the upper floor parlour. But this evening, the sounds of whispered conversation made her pause outside.
The door was ajar, and through it she saw her husband sitting inside. Her five year old nephew was next to him. She couldn't gauge what they were conversing about, but both seemed to being enjoying themselves immensely.
Everything that followed seemed to happen at a glacial pace, and instantly at the same time.
Angelica had never been one for the romances so many young girls seemed to swoon over, and now, at her age, she never imagined she would have anything of the kind.
If it had been completely up to her, she wouldn't have ever married. She had always wanted an equal more than a lover, someone to intellectually spar with. She was never content – even now – to sit back and be a passive, perfect wife. Parties and soirees were one thing, but sitting at home idly was another matter entirely; her witticisms went unused, and her brain was always desperate for some kind of stimulation.
On many an occasion she had been in the company of Thomas Jefferson himself. But even if he would have listened to her revolutionary ideas, her status hadn't allowed her to broach the subject.
Women weren't to be in the sequel just yet.
She had met her match in Alexander; only to give him up for her sister's happiness. The day her sister married was the day she gave up on love.
Yet here she was, with cheeks as red as roses and a butterfly-filled stomach.
But then again, maybe she hadn't. Certainly John had never challenged her the way Alexander had. Given the dynamic of their relationship, for the vast majority of their marriage they had been little more than acquaintances.
Maybe, whatever she thought, she actually did want a romanticised world; a man who would challenge her heart as much as her mind.
She watched her husband with Xander and her heart swelled. It was such a heart-warming sight, and she instantly knew she'd seen it before.
It hadn't been with Xander, but it had been with his father.
Alexander had always cared more about his career and his image than his family. But watching John with Xander, she was reminded of Alex, and how much he did care about his family. Putting his ego aside, it was one of the things she loved the most about him.
She had only seen it a few times, those stolen moments with Philip and Angie, and of course Eliza. But no matter how brief, she knew she would not forget it.
She would never forget this either.
Could it be…?
She thought back to her earlier call to Alexander; how she found she couldn't wholeheartedly despise him because he was her first love.
Her husband turned and, seeing her through the door, smiled a small half-smile.
Angelica felt her heart beating faster, pounding like a drum, melting like butter on toast. She felt as though she'd changed in some irreversible way, that would've been completely unfamiliar if she hadn't experienced it once before.
Seventeen years ago, at a winter's ball, her life had changed forever. And now, at her childhood home, it had changed again. In exactly the same way.
She was drawn back to that night. For a long time, she had thought she'd regret it forever. She should, maybe now more than ever, but she realised she did not. She couldn't.
Because the memory was hazy, like a long-ago daydream, and the man in her mind kissing her hand was no longer Alexander Hamilton.
It was John Barker Church.
Angelica could see it in her mind – the picture clear and hazy at the same time: a small house, with a big garden and a library just as big. Visits from Alexander and her sisters, maybe even her brothers from time to time. Just her and John.
A little place all their own in New York.
It was possible now. He'd come with her. He'd insisted on coming with her, despite knowing she wouldn't return.
She had had visions before her wedding; but they were all tinged with loneliness and tedium. This…
She wanted this. She wanted this to be real.
And just like that, her heart stopped.
Angelica was sure she was blushing, but she didn't care. She smiled back at her husband.
"Angelica," a voice asked. "What is it?"
Eliza had appeared in the hall and she hadn't even noticed.
Just like that, her bliss disappeared; replaced by anxiety and dread. She knew Eliza wouldn't drop the subject, and that she would see through any lie Angelica could think to tell.
But how could she say this? Her sister life in the past few months had been the worst nightmare imaginable, all because of the person she loved most in the world.
How could Angelica tell her sister her revelation at a time like this?
"Angelica?"
"Betsey," her voice was barely audible. She didn't even turn around until the last possible moment. "I – I think I'm in love."