A/N: Hey reader! Thanks for your continued support of this story, it's so inspiring and motivational! Hope you enjoy this chapter, though I will warn you that my poetry is absolutely dismal. I tried! And there's a few things I'm gonna explain at the end of the chapter. So yeah, thanks for reading!
Chapter 10 - Summer 1798
Looking at her on her fifteenth birthday as she sat skimming through a book while brushing her hair, holding a decorative pin between her teeth as she styled it just right, it was impossible for Aaron Burr not to feel unspeakable pride at the intelligent, beautiful young woman he had raised single-handedly over the past five years. Theodosia wasn't aware of his fatherly gaze until he asked, "May I help?"
The young woman looked up from the book and grinned at him, still maintaining her grip on the pin as she tried to reply, "You can try. I can't quite find the centre."
Burr entered the room and stood behind her, passing the brush through her dark curls a few times before taking equal sized sections from either side of her face and, using the pin she passed him, fixing them in the centre of her head. He took a moment to admire his work, then, satisfied, decided, "You look beautiful."
"I should look beautiful for my own birthday celebration," she returned, turning around to face him. "Thank you for your help with my hair."
"But of course," Aaron chuckled, "If a father can't help his daughter on her birthday, when can he help her?" He sat down on the bed beside her and reached inside his jacket for a small box, producing it with a flourish. As soon as Theo saw it she opened her mouth to protest the purchase of any gift at all - much as she enjoyed the finer things in life, she could never prevent a wave of guilt crashing over her whenever people spent their money on her. But Burr interrupted, raising a calm hand to silence her as he explained, "And if a father can't treat his daughter on her birthday, then he's not much of a father at all." He placed the box in her hands, nodding for her to open it.
Slowly, she untied the pink bow sealing the box and prised the lid away, revealing a beautiful silver bracelet with a single purple amethyst dangling prettily from the dainty chain. Not quite as extravagant a gift as Burr would have liked to lavish upon his pride and joy, but out of respect for her modest wishes, he refrained from a more ostentatious diamond encrusted bracelet. Yet even so, it glimmered beautifully in the June sunshine, taking the young girl's breath away.
"Daddy, it's stunning... Thank you, but you truly shouldn't have," she exclaimed once she regained the ability to speak. She quickly slipped the piece onto her wrist, turning it this way and that to admire the way the light caught in the sparkling gem.
That was enough for Aaron Burr: he knew Theodosia was never the kind of girl who appreciated a massive fuss, however he had clearly made a good choice of present for her. "I truly should have," he replied with a genuine smile containing limitless adoration and generosity, as brilliantly warm as the sunny Summer's day, "and I'm glad I did. Happy birthday, my dear Theodosia."
"Father, why is Philip allowed to do whatever he likes?" Angelica Hamilton complained, hovering over Hamilton's shoulder as he tried valiantly to pretend he was oblivious to her incessant demands and actually write something. It was a futile attempt to ignore the child who simply couldn't go without acknowledgement, for she tweeted a new question every couple of seconds, as insistent as a bird at daybreak that he should rise from the work which occupied him to answer her claims of injustice.
"He's not allowed to do whatever he likes, he's only allowed to do more than you are, because he is older and he can take care of himself," Hamilton explained dismissively, hoping in vain that she might abandon her enquiries.
No such chance, as she instantly retorted, "That still doesn't explain why you permit him to go wandering about town the minute he arrived home. We haven't seen him since Christmas, but I barely had a chance to set eyes on him before he was out the door again."
"And with a pocket full of money, might I add," the elder Angelica appeared at the office door, drawn not by her brother in law's frustration but by the loud interrogation from her niece. Sceptically folding her arms over her chest, she remarked, "I must admit, this seems bizarre, even for a boy as trustworthy as Philip."
Exasperated, Alexander set his pen down, loudly slamming it against his desk as he turned to both ladies and justified, "He's fine. I gave him the money because he needs to buy something today, and he can't very well do that if I forbid him from leaving the house until all of his siblings are satisfied that they've seen enough of him to grant him permission to go out again, or deny him sufficient money. As you say, we haven't seen him since Christmas for the precise reason that he didn't want to take a break to ensure that he would be home in time for today. I will do all I can to assist his intentions, including financial endorsement."
"Alexander, you haven't actually explained what he's doing," Angelica Schuyler Church pointed out, quickly becoming impatient with his excessively long explanation in which he somehow managed to obfuscate providing an actual answer to her comment.
Her cool tone dampened some of the fire in his own, and he was calmer as he explained, "Philip is buying a present for a friend whose birthday is today. He's been looking forward to coming home early to surprise her for months, and I won't have him turn up on her doorstep empty handed."
The younger Angelica queried, "Should his own money not be sufficient to buy a gift for her?"
"My thoughts exactly," the elder added. "And by the way - her? This is a girl he's spending your money on, which is not only premature considering he's sixteen: not even a man yet therefore hardly likely to be courting a lady who will be significant to his life, but also I can't help but suspect I know exactly which young woman he's spending your money on."
Accusations rang in every word, and Hamilton couldn't quite bring himself to meet her perceptive gaze as her eyes begged the unspoken question: It's Miss Burr, is it not? As in your rival's daughter? His hesitation was, conveniently, all the answer she needed to prompt a torrent of judgment.
"Alexander, are you pouring your money into his pocket just so that his gift can be more impressive than Burr's? So that you can brag about your abilities to bestow more happiness than he can to his own child?" He said nothing, though she allowed barely a heartbeat for him to refute her accusations, so she lectured, "Your son is not a tool to be used in your games, and you must not manipulate him or Miss Burr to achieve your own ends! Their happiness is not another step towards your driving Burr from government, can you not see how drastically you endanger their joy by attempting to do so?"
Hamilton's frustration returned with a vengeance: "Don't speak so defensively of the man who defeated your own father as New York senator! Even if what you said was true, I'd have a perfectly reasonable justification for my actions: need I remind you of the part he played in a certain document published last Summer which was not to your taste?" He retorted. Seeing his little girl's curious eyes widen in disbelief as she saw her father rise to argue with her beloved aunt, he made a conscious effort to establish some control over his raging torrent of emotions. With a deep, steadying breath, he elaborated, "That said, your accusations are completely false. I don't think it should seem so incredible to you that I would support my son's romantic or platonic endeavours for any reason other than playing my rightful role as his father, which happens to be precisely what I'm doing."
"Because familial loyalty is so important to you, obviously," his sister in law mocked with sarcasm: neither she nor Eliza had forgiven or forgotten the details disclosed almost a year ago.
Hamilton paused for a few seconds, staring at the woman he cared so deeply for while she met his gaze with a level, disdainful darkness in her eyes. There was a marked absence of feeling in his hollow voice as he urged his daughter, "Angelica, please leave your aunt and I to talk in peace." It was not his fiery irritation he wished to protect her from any longer, but the defeat he felt whenever his abundant love for his family was questioned, especially when there was evidence enough written by his own hand to support any doubts. Alone with the Schuyler sister, he spoke. "Actually, yes. If you think I'd support Philip simply to spite Burr, you clearly don't know me at all," he replied, significantly softer now.
For a millisecond, there was a flicker of something he didn't quite have time to identify before the flame was harshly stamped out by her crushing disappointment in him which had remained since she first heard of what he'd done. When it was gone, her voice was equally soft as she shrugged, "I don't think I do know you."
With that, Angelica turned away, leaving the room seeing as no one she was concerned about - or rather, no one she wanted to be concerned about - was still inside. Only, she stumbled upon Philip, returned from town with a box of his own for his best friend. As soon as she set eyes on him, it was apparent from his slumped shoulders that he was experiencing severe doubts about some matter or another, something which was drastically uncharacteristic for the sunny young man who usually radiated optimism. "Philip, what on Earth is the matter?" She enquired at once.
The boy wore a frown as he explained, "I heard you arguing with Pops." As she cocked her head, he was quickly keen to clarify, "I wasn't trying to listen in, I only overheard a few snatches of conversation..." He steeled himself before asking, "Do you think it was a bad idea to buy a gift for Theodosia? We've been friends for years, but I've never seen her birthday, and I wanted to do something special for the first we'll actually share." With luck, the first of many, he added silently.
His anxiety brought an amused smirk to his aunt's lips, and she recognized in him something he was not yet aware of himself: the stirrings of romantic affection. Always a dreamer, the kind of woman who wished true love might always prevail, she couldn't bring herself to voice her doubts about the elder Hamilton man's intentions; regardless of her brother's morals, or lack thereof, Philip's were undoubtedly true and pure, which made any gift he chose a genuine token of fondness rather than an object to provide his father with leverage against Aaron Burr in the most petty of contests. She shook her head, deciding, "I think it's a lovely idea. Now, what precisely did you choose for her?"
The student's face had relaxed into an easy smile, but as she asked that question, his dubious frown returned. He pulled the box from his pocket and handed it to her, watching her open it carefully and examine the object inside with great trepidation. Nervous, he asked, "What do you think?"
"Perfect," she truthfully answered without hesitation, closing the box and handing it back to him with a touch of pride gracing her smile. Elizabeth has raised a devilishly charming boy. "I presume you aren't giving it to her just like that, however?"
"No," he shook his head, his dark curls bouncing up and down on his shoulders. "I don't think it should take me long to have it ready. I thought I would write a poem." His words held the unspoken question of whether that idea was one his wise aunt approved of.
She smiled, all the confirmation he needed, and placed a hand on his shoulder, noticing as she did so that the young man who had always been tall for his age was only a few inches shorter than herself, and continuing to grow seemingly every day. "That's very thoughtful, Philip. I think it's a brilliant idea." I just hope Alexander doesn't somehow twist your kindness into a weapon to use against Theodosia's father.
"Thank you, aunt Angelica," he grinned appreciatively, relieved beyond measure to have the approval of one of the hardest women to satisfy he had ever known.
With that, he continued towards his room, hoping inspiration for his poem would strike him.
Six hours later, the sun had dipped below the horizon to leave the sky a warm blue and Philip had barely scraped together a product he wouldn't be completely humiliated to hand over. A seemingly endless mountain of discarded parchment rose around his desk, a rural landscape of paper surrounding the city-dwelling boy, yet still he had to force the words from his quill letter by letter, only to find that nothing was quite good enough. Eventually, it was done, and he sat back from his desk with a heavy sigh of exhaustion, shoulders stiff from being hunched over for so long, fingers barely mobile after scratching out draft after draft of insufficient poetry.
But it's done now. I've surely missed her celebration, but I must see her before the day is finished.
The young man wasn't quite as broad as a full grown adult, but he was well on his way, and the prospect of tackling the familiar library window seemed unappealing. Yet the single other option was to scale the wall and make his way to Theodosia's balcony, in the hope that he could negotiate his way past that window with the same ease he had grown accustomed to facing the library window. The advantage of that was that it was larger. He considered carefully: tumbling clumsily into the library, risking getting trapped and discovered, or scrambling up a wall with only a climbing plant to support my weight. I suppose I'm not that heavy, and at least it's more dignified to fall after a courageous climb than to humiliate myself by getting trapped like a woodland animal. The front door isn't even an option, I know full well the view Mr Burr entertains of me.
His decision made, he began to attempt to scale the vine winding its way along the side of the house, certain he must be creating enough noise to alert Burr and the staff with the combination of the rustling of leaves, the occasional snapping of branches and his grunts of alarm. But he was paranoid, as he seemingly ascended to the balcony without too much trouble, swinging his legs over to touch the balcony floor with the weight of his nerves lifted from his shoulders. No angry mob headed by the home owner persued the man who infiltrated the household of a politician under the cover of darkness and targeted his daughter's bedroom. Just as well, considering the stain that would put on my reputation, he thought, with a sigh of relief to have his feet on solid ground once more. With trepidation, he peered through the glass, spotting that Theo was alone inside. He rapped his knuckles on the glass, causing her to gasp in shock as she whipped around with wide, terrified eyes to see who could possibly be lurking on her balcony.
Her anxiety became a sceptical frown the instant she recognized the grinning idiot standing on the other side, pointing at the latch as he indicated for her to open it.
She scoffed at the audacity of his request, and made her way towards the glass, though her irritation didn't appear to fade. Her heart rejoiced at setting eyes on Philip after months apart, yet it simultaneously continued to race from the fright of having a mysterious figure looming ominously on the other side of her bedroom window. She reached up to open a small window rather than the door Philip had been hoping to use, for the purpose of allowing him to hear her scathing words only:
"You might have given me a word of warning before you took it upon yourself to clamber up the side of my house and scare the life out of me," she scolded.
Unfazed, Philip justified, "I couldn't warn you, that would have completely defeated the object of making it a surprise!"
Maintaining her rightfully disapproving attitude, Theo retorted, "Considering I had no idea you were even due home, I would have been sufficiently surprised by you appearing on my doorstep, like a normal person - or is that too mainstream and easy for the great Philip Hamilton?" She spoke his name mockingly, though the remaining traces of her fear prevented much humour reaching her words.
"Your father hates me, so actually that wouldn't be a surprise at all, I just wouldn't be able to see you. Come on, Theo, let me in before someone sees me and alerts the police to some troublesome student harassing Aaron Burr's daughter," he pleaded, his eyes childishly begging her as they met hers through the glass. She chuckled at that, her amusement chasing the last of her shock away as she complied with his request.
As she opened the door and allowed him to barrel into her room and out of sight from potential judgemental eyes, she mused aloud, "Maybe I should have let someone call the police on you so that they could teach you that most successful surprises don't cause heart attacks. Still, now you're here," she continued with a sly smirk, "I suppose I could alert my father and let him tell you the same lesson..."
Philip's face became the picture of horror at the suggestion, and she felt smugly satisfied that she had repaid the fear he had instilled in her with his unannounced visit. His voice was barely audible as he implored, "Please, Theo, you can't..."
His absolute helplessness made her giggle, and she mercifully relieved him of his anxiety as she assured, "Don't worry, I'm only teasing." Growing more genuine, she commented, "I suppose I shouldn't be too irritated by the boy who came home early to surprise me on my birthday. At least the idea was very thoughtful of you!"
"I'm glad I've not ruined everything, then," he smiled, his hazel eyes shining with anticipation to give her the gift he had purchased. "Speaking of your birthday, I got you a present." He pulled the box from his jacket and placed it in her hands, watching as she opened it and gasped:
She pulled from the box a gold locket, the pendant hanging from a delicate chain, engraved with an intricate floral design. Inside, a folded piece of paper baring the words of his poetic feat hid, and as she read it aloud, completely astounded by the depth of his words, he was absolutely certain that the vast number of hours he had dedicated to perfecting it were worthwhile. The poem held a curious weight of sincerity, the truth tumbling out in every syllable and crafting a beautiful world of honesty within the walls of the room in which the two of them alone existed.
"A million people walk this earth,
Yet my wandering soul has yet to find
One by which my affections are so deeply stirred,
As the girl with the captivating heart and mind.
When distance keeps me from the girl so sweet
My body aches, my mind is weary
In the glimpses of shadows I search to seek
The one who ends a pain so dreary.
But no imagined glance could match the sight
Of that face of unparalleled elegance,
She ignites a flame of such radiant delight
With her unlimited perfected excellence.
The verdant growth of my fondness of her
Is unmatched by all who think they know the truth
Of what it is to be destined to be joined, as it were,
And though the extent of my affection may appear uncouth,
Even so, I cannot deny what is clear
And that is that you are, and will always be
The one my heart holds so very dear,
The best of women, to the world, and to me."
She stared at him for a few seconds, eyes wide and the faintest darkening blush on her cheeks from the intense written flattery. She was speechless, leaving Philip to fill the silence after a moment. He reminded her, "I always said I wanted to be a poet."
"You are one. The best I know," she agreed, still with a slightly glazed look to her fondly sparkling gaze.
"It's only because you're the best muse," he replied, apparently forgetting the excessive time it had taken to write the poem and grinning in sheer relief that she hadn't scorned his extensive efforts. "May I do the honours of putting it on you?" He asked, noticing that she hadn't yet done so herself.
"Of course," she nodded, and returned the poem to it's resting place inside the pendant. Then she turned around, lifting her hair up to reveal her neck to him. Philip took the locket from her hands and slipped it around her, fixing the clasp while she continued "Are you sure you're not so intelligent simply because you're attending King's High?"
Philip walked to see her from the front, deciding, "I think it suits you. And as it happens," he added, falsely offhanded, "I'm not attending King's High anymore. I'm starting at King's College." He attempted to remain nonchalant, yet he couldn't contain a smirk as Theodosia clapped a hand over her mouth to conceal her exclamation of pride and excitement.
"That's incredible! You must be delighted, I know I am! Does this mean -" she stopped short, not quite believing it to be true as she checked, "does this mean you're going to be staying in the city? After all, the campus is just along the street..."
He nodded, beaming as her face split into a brilliant grin. "Yes. I wanted to wait to tell you in person, which is why I didn't write: I'm home for good now."
Forgetting the need for secrecy, she emitted a high pitched squeal and flung herself into his arms, laughing in ecstasy as he span her around through the air, becoming equally absorbed in her enthusiasm. He was just as pleased as she was that he would be remaining in New York for the foreseeable future - her happiness at the news makes it even better, he decided as he closed his eyes and succumbed to allowing his joy to explode from him and fill the room.
But their celebration was short lived. Hearing the commotion, Burr's heavy footsteps pounded towards the sounds coming from Theodosia's bedroom, afraid that noises which in reality were squeals of enthusiasm might be screams of horror. He burst in as Philip set her down again, and as soon as he established that there was no immediate danger, his expression of fear twisted into one of disdain.
"Mr Hamilton! Like father, like son, it seems you are both given to sneaking your way into bedrooms which you ought not to be in." His accusing glare could have frozen one who had not so recently been set aflame with the elation of sharing pleasure with a friend.
"Daddy, he was only -"
"That's enough, Theodosia," he cut her off with a kind of harshness he usually never showed to his precious little girl. This is no time to be sweet and gentle - this scoundrel has forced his way into my home.
"Mr Burr, I meant no harm to either of you," Philip attempted to explain, before he, too, was interrupted by the stern, immovably disapproving man.
"Yet for all your good intentions, you have breached the boundaries of my property and stolen into my own daughter's bedroom. You know full well how much it is my aim to protect the last light in my life from any negative influences. The kind of people who enter my home without permission most definitely fall within that category, young man."
Seeing Aaron's point of view, Philip opened his mouth to begin his heartfelt apologies, "Sir, I -"
"No. No excuses, no defence. You will leave my home immediately, and be thankful I am kind enough to refrain from taking more serious measures." His steely gaze met the student's, and he stared him down as he witnessed Philip's natural instinct to argue ignite.
He can't dismiss me without even allowing me a chance to explain myself. He doesn't deserve to pass judgment on my character when he refuses to so much as acknowledge that I might actually be something more than he suspects.
He was so tempted to protest, and respond with the strong, bold arguments Burr was surely in need of. But while he glared directly back at Burr, he caught a glimpse of Theodosia hovering on the edge of his vision: she was upset. It was her birthday, and he ran the risk of ruining it by shouting at her father. That idea alone grounded him, and Burr watched his urge to berate the older man fade away.
"Yes, Mr Burr, Sir. Goodbye, Theo." His shoulders slumped in defeat as he retreated, looking for all the world like a soldier beaten in battle. Indeed, it was a battle of sorts, a clash between the true affection of the boy and the older man's perception of his pure gift as something so much darker.
Alone with her father once more, Theo complained, "You didn't have to be so rude to him. He only wanted to surprise me on my birthday."
"I wasn't rude, I was defending my property," Burr replied, without a trace of guilt. In his eyes, he had done nothing but act in the only appropriate way to respond to one who infiltrated the security of your home.
"Is property what I am now? Only, I thought you were a feminist," she retorted, blatantly unimpressed.
Not rising to argue with her, he justified, "You are infinitely more than property, which is what makes you so valuable to me. I won't allow any young charmer to break your heart, else I couldn't live with myself."
"I've already told you, he doesn't see me in that way!" She moaned, exasperated. At least, I think he doesn't. Though, considering his poem, who could be certain? She pondered silently, before Burr interrupted her by pointing to her new locket.
"Is that from him?" He asked.
"Yes," she confirmed, deciding to keep the contents of the locket as a secret shared by herself and Philip alone, as it was meant to be.
Burr nodded slowly, frowning slightly as he warned, "I wouldn't be so sure he hasn't set his sights on you." She rolled her eyes, though the strength of her silent statement was decreased by the yawn which appeared from nowhere. "You're tired, you should sleep. It's been a very long day," he rubbed his temple wearily, for a moment appearing very old. He kissed her cheek, murmuring, "Goodnight, my dearest girl. Happy Birthday."
"Thank you, Daddy," she replied as he walked away, leaving her alone in her room. She brushed her hair and prepared for bed, trying to forget the troubles of the evening and instead focusing on the day's wonders: a beautiful gift from her father, an unexpected visit from a long-absent friend, and the brilliant news that he would be close by for a long time to come. That must be the best gift of all, she decided, settling into bed and falling into a peaceful slumber.
That night, she dreamed of a certain poem which hung around her neck, resting just above her heart.
A/N: did ya like it?
So the balcony is obviously a reference to Romeo and Juliet as they mature and their feelings for each other become a bit more intense. The poem in the locket us inspired by the saddest thing I've recently learned about Eliza Hamilton, which is that after Hamilton died, she carried some of the love poems he wrote for her in a package around her neck. And I had to throw in a bit of Angelica Schuyler Church being all scornful of Alexander because I just had to!
Thanks for reading!