A/N: Hey reader! Thanks for being patient, I know this chapter took a little while, but I fully intend to get on top of all my writing. There's a lot of things I'm trying to work on, but don't worry, this story is high up my list of priorities! Your reading, reviewing and favouriting is always so appreciated! Hope you enjoy this, there's been a jump to 1797, three years later, so Philip is 15 and Theo is 14 (and Eliza is pregnant)! And Theo is awesome, I adore her!
Chapter 6 - Summer 1797
Aaron Burr leaned back from where he had been hunched over for hours reading a report. It was tedious work to peruse the writing of someone else, but at least being preoccupied with it gave him some shield from presenting his own views in the political world. Which is not at all to say he enjoyed it, and as soon as the sweet melodies of his talented daughter drifted into his office, it seemed the perfect excuse to abandon his work.
He strolled to the room where the piano was situated and silently leaned against the door frame, patiently awaiting the fourteen year old to complete her song. Even so, she sensed his presence, and glanced over her shoulder to give him a warm, affectionate smile as she continued to play: over the years, her beloved father had become the single most important person in her life, her guide and her guardian, and she relished every moment he spared from his work to be around her.
Once she reached the end of the song, Burr applauded as he would having witnessed a great play, and commented, "That was beautiful. You play better every day."
"Thank you, father," she nodded once, accepting the praise, and stood to approach him, a certain glint in her eye paired with the mischief of her smile which the father instantly recognized as a warning that his little girl was about to make a large request.
Suspicious, he enquired, "What do you want from me?" He smirked as she widened her eyes innocently and gasped as though she hadn't known exactly what she wanted to ask the minute she set eyes on him. Amused, he instructed, "You might as well tell me, I know you're after something..."
Her expression of surprise lingered for a heartbeat, before her eagerness to make her request broke her mask into a bright grin. "Very well, if you must know, I wanted to ask you if I might host a dinner party here." Though she spoke with flawless formality, her brown gaze revealed a childish anticipation of the event she had longed to arrange for what seemed like forever.
Aaron wasn't especially averse to the idea, but he was puzzled by the unexpected request. Raising an eyebrow, he asked, "Why do you want to do that? You'd most likely be the youngest host the country has ever seen."
Chuckling, she responded, "It's not like the country has been around long enough for somebody else to set a precedent."
"You know what I mean. Why now, when you're so young?" Burr reiterated, serious in spite of her witty observation.
Theo sighed as she explained, "I just want to prove that I can do it. After all, I am the lady of the house, and I've neglected to host a single gathering of our family friends, something I am acutely aware of. So please, daddy, let me do this?" Her desperate expression begged just as fiercely as her emotive words, and Burr had to consider her logical arguments.
Initially, he was uncertain about introducing such a young girl to the stressful world from which she would not be able to step back into childhood once she had entered. But then, she was wise beyond her years, every inch as clever and mature as the most pristine lady, and with youthful charm enough to make her the perfect host. What's the worst that could happen? He pondered. Nothing earth shatteringly catastrophic. "Very well," he agreed, and Theodosia replied with a delighted bounce as she clapped enthusiastically in her excitement. "Wait here," he ordered, disappearing from the room to his office, where he quickly located a list from a lifetime ago in the drawers of his meticulously organised desk. He returned and placed it in her hands. "You can choose any of the people on this list to invite," he explained mildly as she thoroughly scanned the piece of paper as soon as she received it.
She looked back up to him, almost giddy with anticipation as she grinned, "Thank you, Daddy. I won't let you down."
"My love, please just look at yourself. You ought to stay at home and rest," Alexander insisted, his hand resting on his wife's pregnant belly, protruding far from her body. This was Elizabeth's seventh pregnancy, but he distinctly regretted that her sixth had not been successful. He was determined to prevent a second miscarriage, and that meant executing every precaution to ensure his wife was kept in comfort for the entirety of her pregnancy.
Yet she was adamant that she should attend. "Husband, dearest, you are paranoid. I shall be fine, because it is a dinner party, not a war zone, therefore your fears are unwarranted." He drew breath to protest, but she continued before he could utter another syllable, "Miss Burr has invited us to her first dinner, and I would never forgive myself if I failed to show my support for the girl I recall so fondly." She raised an eyebrow, daring her wayward husband to argue with her iron will: Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton would not be ordered around by any man, including the one who shared her surname.
Hamilton himself was every bit as stubborn, and insisted, "My fears are not unwarranted. We both know what can happen -"
"And we both know that it is much more likely to occur if the mother is placed under stress. So as long as you remember it is to be food on the table rather than some important issue you need to debate in a cabinet room, I'm certain that this will be a pleasant evening," she cut him off with a shrewd sniff; it was unlike her to be so sharp with him, yet her hormones permitted her to be firm, a fact he knew well.
Hamilton groaned for a moment at his wife's determination. But once she set her mind to something, there was little he could do to combat it, and he was loathe to place any slight pressure on her by continuing to make successless harangues. Therefore, after some hesitation, he muttered, "Fine."
At once the stubborn frown lifted from Eliza's brow, and she spoke as though she'd never know frustration in her life as she confessed, "I'm sure young Theodosia is to be wonderful! I only hope things are not difficult between her and Philip."
Alexander nodded his agreement: their eldest son had been included as one of the invitees, yet both parents were well aware that the bold young man still felt a touch insulted by the way Miss Burr had neglected to enquire after him at all in the past three years. Even so, he comforted Elizabeth, "I'm certain he can judge a situation well enough to know when his opinions are appropriate and when they are not. And he should be mature enough to contain himself when he undoubtedly discovers the latter."
Smiling coyly, Eliza teased, "I hope he doesn't take too much after his father in that respect..." At Hamilton's bemused look, she elaborated, "You ought to be mature enough to contain yourself when it appears that sharing your opinions is unnecessary too, but we both know that's not quite how it plays out, don't we, Alexander?"
Hamilton smiled adoringly at his miracle of a wife, and couldn't help but marvel at the brilliant sparkling of humour in her dark black eyes. He indulged her, answering, "I'm sure I don't know what you mean," and leaned in to kiss her softly.
"Mom, Pops, we have to -" The fifteen year old instantly regretted entering the bedroom without knocking first in his haste to remind his parents of the time, and instead moaned, agonized, at their display of love.
His parents pulled apart and turned to him, and Eliza was the one who found the words to respond to his juvenile cringing. "You'll understand one day, Philip. But for now, you're right, we need to leave, else Miss Burr will be anxious."
At once his foolish adolescence evaporated from his body as he heard her name, and he was replaced by a stiff young man who struggled to keep his mouth set in a firm line rather than revealing his inner confusion; truly, he knew he had no right to have expected Theodosia to write, as she warned him it would take her some time. But he had left, and still she had remained indifferent, and being slighted in such a way left him unsure whether to be frustrated or saddened.
But somehow he managed a nod, so both adults turned a blind eye to the visible change in their child. Silently, his father regarded him, and recalled Eliza's teasing. Please, he willed silently, for your mother's sake, have the rationality to save whatever outburst awaits for another day.
As she inspected and restyled her hair time and time again, it felt to Theodosia as though a large knot writhed about inside her stomach, threatening to drive her insane as she awaited the guests to arrive. Her heart pounded quickly with excitement, but her belly felt as though it held nothing but a sea of nerves, and though this was to be a dinner party, the mere idea of eating caused her to feel positively nauseous.
A knock came upon the door, and she dashed to answer it, abandoning her priming and preening. She smiled widely before she even opened the door, practicing to make a good first impression. This has to be perfect, she reminded herself - regardless of her age, she would not be satisfied if her first dinner party was anything less than the most seasoned hostess provided.
She muttered under her breath a practice of her words, "Welcome to the Burr household. We're so glad you were able to attend this evening, please come on through." Believing herself adequately prepared, she opened the door to the trio waiting on the other side. But her welcoming smile transformed into a chuffed grin, her precise formality slipping away and her excitement overcoming it as she recognized the long-absent face she'd missed over the years: "Philip!"
The teenager met her delighted brown gaze with cool golden eyes which his polite, almost stiff smile didn't quite reach, and responded with a touch of indifference, "I'm surprised you recognize me, Miss Burr."
Her beaming grin faltered momentarily, but she swiftly resumed the warm but dignified manner she'd intended to treat her guests with. I'm sure he's only reminding me that this is not the time or place for our friendly reunion, she assured herself, not even considering any other possible reason for him to be any less than jubilant that they were meeting again. "Of course I recognize you, though I'm sure you've exceeded all of my fondest expectations since you've been gone. Much like your family - congratulations on your pregnancy Mrs Hamilton, Mr Hamilton." She turned her attention to the adults, who nodded with satisfaction at the prominent bump where the latest addition to their family waited to make an entrance. "Welcome to the Burr household, we're so glad you were all able to attend this evening. Please, come on through," she invited, reverting to her rehearsed lines as she lead them to the dining room.
"Thank you, Miss Burr," Eliza replied as she followed alongside her family. However, she slowed down, immediately causing her husband some consternation as he turned to her.
"Elizabeth, what is it? Do you need to go home?" He asked, the hint of a plea in his voice: he longed to postpone any ordeal which created unnecessarily difficult situations until after the delivery, especially one in particular which was guaranteed to be more damaging than a social gathering. But even something as innocent as a dinner gathering was no exception to the scrutiny of his wary mind.
Still, her face displayed no discomfort, and she placated, "I'm quite fine, love, only a touch breathless. You go on ahead, Philip can wait with me a moment while I collect myself." Though he hesitated, she raised her eyebrows to him insistently, silently indicating that he should not question why she claimed shortness of breath despite her chest not rising and falling an inordinate amount. He nodded, reading that she had some other intention, and obeyed her order, following Theo to the dining room. Meanwhile, Eliza turned to her son, a slight frown detracting from the generally placid glow of her face.
"What is it, Mother? Are you okay?" He queried anxiously, picking up some of his father's nerves as well as his own confusion as to what had caused her brow to crease.
She nodded slowly. "I'm fine. But I don't think you are." Before he could protest, she enquired, "Why were you so cold with Theodosia?"
He snorted, sceptical of her deduction due to his own denial. "I wasn't cold." As he considered it, however, he corrected, "At least, I was only as cold to her as she has been to me over the past three years." The humour faded from his eyes to be replaced with a desolate glimmer of disappointment.
The practical mother placed a calming hand on his shoulder as she began to comfort him. "I know she hurt you with her being silent for so long, but you know as well as I do that an intelligent young woman such as her would do nothing so damaging without very good reason." Her voice shifted to what Philip interpreted as a lecture as she continued, "However much she offended you, it is in the past now, so you ought to forgive it. Please, Philip, don't be so stubborn that your undying grudge ruins this evening for her. You have no idea how important it is to her."
You have no idea how important she was to me, before she decided to pretend I don't exist, he longed to reply. But he knew it would sound petty and childish, and might cause more than a gentle scolding from his hormonal mother. So instead he nodded once, intending to appease her concern without promising as much.
It was an action Eliza recognized from her argumentative husband. But it was clearly as close to agreement as she would receive from the young man who was so much like his father, so she decided that would be enough. With a hint of doubt, she ruffled his curls affectionately, before following after the young hostess.
"This was quite lovely, Miss Burr," a portly gentleman complimented the young woman, who chuckled at the courtesy.
"Thank you, Mr Brant," she replied, adding after a moment, "I notice you've finished your wine. Could I pour you some more?"
"I'd gladly take up that offer," a Doctor she had invited commented, and the young girl quickly obliged. Despite the difficulty she had experienced in selecting the meal and a set of guests she'd expect to remain civil through the entirety of the evening, she had proved herself to be a highly capable hostess throughout the night, a fact which hadn't gone overlooked by her father, who was always proud of her regardless of her achievements, but even more so when she did something so brilliant without any prior experience.
"Why not fill all our glasses, and we will toast your success this evening," he suggested, beaming at her with unreserved admiration; Aaron Burr was under no misconceptions about how highly complicated the work of a lady during a social occasion was, and he was adamant that it should be recognized and celebrated. His smile only intensified into a mischievous smirk as he noted her blush at his praises.
"Father, there's no need," she protested. True, she was very pleased with herself, but she was reluctant to be the centre of attention. Part of what had enabled her to remain calm had been her ability to distract herself from the fact that the night's proceedings were entirely her responsibility, and to have her guests labour about the point might steal the facade of peace away from her.
"You're too modest. Of course we should celebrate, you've been simply sublime tonight," Eliza insisted, reminding Theodosia of the way she had instantly taken to her mother's friend on their first meeting. The pregnant woman reached for her hand and squeezed it, a silent reminder to the obviously tense young woman that she was among friends who knew exactly how much effort she had contributed to entertain them all.
"Very well, if you insist," Theodosia submitted, and made her way around the table, refilling any empty glass, save that of the pregnant woman unable to consume alcohol.
Burr stood once she returned to her seat, and declared, "I have been to many dinner parties, but I believe tonight my daughter has demonstrated the most exemplary service I have ever encountered. I'm sure we can appreciate how much work goes into planning an event for warmly regarded friends such as you gathered here, and it is even more of an impressive feat for one so young. I made no request of Theodosia, but she decided of her own accord to host a dinner, something which she knows gives me unspeakable pride." By this point, she was crimson, so he mercifully finished, "please join me in raising a glass to Miss Burr - the most thoughtful of women."
A murmur of agreement arose from all still seating as they lifted their glasses before sipping. Only Philip Hamilton hesitated to drink, taking the smallest of sips in his silent dissent. However, it didn't go unnoticed by the man so contented by his child's efforts.
As he sat back down, he fixed a steely gaze on the young boy, managing his typical smile as he questioned, "Something the matter, Philip? I couldn't help but recognize that you barely touched your drink during our toast..." The smile disguised it as an innocent question. But Philip, Alexander and Theodosia recognized it as an interrogation.
"He's fifteen, father, you can't expect him to be drinking as much as an adult," Theodosia quickly jumped to defend the friend she had once held so dearly close to her heart.
"Or do you condone a schoolboy's consumption of alcohol, Burr? I wouldn't have expected that of you, although no one ever knows what to expect of you, thanks to your clever way of dealing with things," Alexander challenged. Burr's eyes narrowed, and a flicker of irritation sparked within him.
Desperate to avert a serious disagreement, Eliza gripped Hamilton's arm, sharply protesting, "Alexander! Remember what we discussed earlier."
Hamilton sighed, irked by the interruption, but even he could deduce that it was sensible to keep quiet for once. Even so, the silence was heavy, weighed with the arguments forced to remain unspoken. Keen to return to the formerly light mood, Theo attempted to make conversation with Philip, who had remained quiet throughout the night. "Speaking of you being a schoolboy, how has boarding school been?" She asked, genuinely eager to learn about what he had seen and done while he'd been away.
Yet that struck him as insulting, and he scathingly replied, "I was under the impression you couldn't care at all about my schooling." For the first time since they met at the door, he met her eyes, and the complete detachment in his golden gaze made her truly fear that he was angry at her. If she'd chosen to ignore it earlier, now she had no choice but to acknowledge the truth. Her shot at alleviating the awkward tension had gone drastically awry, and now her blush was definitely not from embarrassment at praise.
Frustrated at his son's rude behaviour, Hamilton sympathetically tried to come to her rescue, suggesting, "Some music might be appreciated. Burr tells me you play piano, Miss Theodosia."
"That's true, Mr Hamilton. But I seem to recall that your son's skills once greatly outweighed my own," she tried to flatter Philip into forgiveness. He looked at her with an odd expression, yet didn't verbally disagree, leading her to prompt, "Philip? Would you play with me?"
His response was more of a harsh blow than he ever intended. It was only meant to be a refusal. Instead, he disrespected the thing which had first united them, and everything which they had experienced since when he coldly remarked, "I've forgotten all I know, which is just as well seeing as it was nothing but a childish hobby."
His mother couldn't stifle her quiet gasp, and the young hostess did all she could to conceal her own pain, but failed to prevent the smallest sparkle of tears rising: it wasn't like he was wrong - they had shared the interest as children, and occasionally played together. It's just a game, it doesn't really matter, she tried to convince herself. Except she knew it was more than that. And he was meant to know that it became so much more than a game the moment he insisted on tying her mother's illness and then death to his playing. He'd snuck into her home to offer the gift of music to her mother in her final days, and he had returned to honour her memory. It had been one of the most profound and sweet gestures to the mourning Theo, and had provided her comfort when little else could. But to him, it was a childish hobby. It meant nothing. She meant nothing.
He realized his mistake as soon as the thoughtless words left his mouth, because he had never dreamed of inflicting as much pain on her as the shimmer of tears in her eyes indicated. He had been hurt, and it made him want to lash out irrationally. But she didn't deserve his blatant lies. He tried to correct himself, but she interrupted, "I suppose I will play alone." She rushed from the room too quickly, and fell against the wall as soon as she was out of sight, allowing a single sob to escape.
Daddy was right, he did change while he was away, she realized with what felt like a sharp dagger in her side. No matter. I can play, and prove myself to my guests without him. She wiped her tears away, forbidding herself to let that boy reduce her to a sobbing mess ever again, and continued to the piano room.
Meanwhile, Burr's glare towards the young boy was completely visible, without a trace of his generally calm expression to temper the heat of his gaze. He dared not risk upsetting the girl any further by causing a scene at the dinner which was so crucial to her reputation within respectable society, yet it confirmed that he was reserving harsh disapproval for a moment of privacy with both Hamilton men. For the time being, however, he couldn't do as much as open his mouth for fear that he would not be able to conceal the fury boiling within him towards the young boy who had made his young girl cry. I thought ending their friendship would save her from pain at his hands. But I was wrong, he realised, annoyed by his own negligence to check the list he'd given her. He should have ensured none of that family was invited and given the opportunity to taint his poor daughter's golden heart with the shadow which lurked behind them.
After a moment, the sound of piano floated in from the next room, and most of the guests leaned back in their seats and began to make polite conversation, visibly soothed by the calming melody, the polar opposite of the tumultuous storm within both the pianist and the once-friend who'd been invited to play with her.
While the distraction of her inner turmoil caused Theo's hands to slip from time to time, Philip was assaulted by a barrage of his own thoughts. Idiot, what a ridiculous thing to say, do you not have any common sense at all? You have no right to lash out simply because you're upset, and you have no right to be upset in the first place because you promised her you didn't mind when she let you back in. And now she has, or had, and the first thing you do is tell her you were only being childish when you played for her dead mother. Well, nice one, Philip. Nothing Burr could have said to criticize him would have differed at all from the endless stream of regrets coursing through his brain, but when he heard her stumble particularly noticeably, one idea rose above the rest: I need to apologise, and I need to do it now.
He stood and excused himself, before following the sound to the familiar room. Theodosia was already struggling to play, so he didn't disturb her by alerting her of his presence, only walked towards her and perched on the stool beside her. It was a much tighter fit for the pair of them than it once had been, but they fit nonetheless. She didn't react at all, only allowed him to join her playing without protest, though it was noticed that she stopped slipping once he was at her side once more. To all listening ears, it was harmonious. However, they still had a lot to explain to one another.
He didn't know what to expect when they finished, but after she'd fled from the dining room on the brink of crying, he would have assumed Theodosia might say something more emotive than her sarcastic question, "Was it so difficult to drag your knowledge out from your forgotten memories?"
"Theo, I'm sorry. I didn't forget, I couldn't forget -"
"Then why lie?" She demanded, surprisingly fierce for a young woman who had been rejected by a friend she once adored moments previously. But then, she had been feisty before her mother's passing had rendered her the grieving child she had been when they last met.
Sighing, he explained, "I didn't mean to. I wasn't thinking, because I was so confused and hurt by you failing to contact me for so long. I know I told you I'd be patient, but I thought that my going away might be important enough for you to at least try to say goodbye... I really am sorry."
Theo was silent for a heartbeat. She maintained her disapproving tone as she shot back, "You should be sorry." Another beat passed, and her aggression melted away as she continued, "I know you wanted me to write, and I wanted that too. I regret not doing it now, because it seems you've changed terribly since you've been gone. But now you're home for the summer, I only want my old best friend back." A trace of melancholy shadow marred her sparkling brown eyes, and she glanced down to her lap, where her hands were clasped together.
Philip saw her sadness, and felt it like a kick in the gut. Even so, her words had been hopeful, so he took her hands in his, causing her to look back up at him in surprise at the contact. He nodded enthusiastically, eyes wide and gleaming as he agreed, "That's all I've wanted, too! You'll see, I've not changed as much as you think I have. I can prove it to you - if you can forgive me sufficiently to allow me the chance," he added sheepishly.
Theodosia considered his proposition. She mused, "You always used to be fun... I suppose I can forgive you for being so immature, after all I can understand why losing my friendship would be such a devastating experience." A smirk played on her lips as she joked lightly.
"More devastating than you realize," Philip agreed with an infectious, sunny grin she couldn't help but return. "So are we friends again?" He checked hopefully.
Theodosia nodded her confirmation. "That's a silly question. We never stopped being friends." The boy sighed in blatant relief, causing her to giggle, and tease, "Am I so important that you would lose all sense and inhibitions for my sake?"
Philip shrugged, suddenly reserved as he admitted warmly, "I suppose you are." His shyness faded as he continued in the same teasing manner she had, adopting a snobbish persona, "I hope that over this summer, we become close enough again that you prove that I'm right to care so much."
Theodosia smirked at his falsely haughty request, but there was no joke about her agreement as she answered firmly, "Trust me, I intend to."