Author Note: 1. 8,390 words is our final count for the penultimate chapter!
2. This chapter took so incredibly long to write for a lot of reasons. Part of it was my sorrow to get so close to ending this project, which was my first passion-project for this fandom. I love this story very, very much, and it is extremely bittersweet to let it go. This chapter is NOT THE END, but it is the final chapter before the ending.
3. With that said, I want to thank each and every single one of you for reading this story. Some of you have been with me since the first upload, some of you are brand new, some of you won't see this at all, and some of you will read this long after the finale is up. To all of you, I thank you from the very bottom, most sincere and warm place of my heart. You all never cease to inspire me and fill me with such love and passion for what I have loved doing and continue to love doing. I love you all so very much! Mwah!
I'd like to give a special thanks to: , which provided me information on how to diss like an old pro in flower-speak, and a very huge, special thank you to my smol Amanda, who loved and tended to and adored this story just as me over the past months. It has been an honor taking this ride with you, my dear, and I cannot wait to see what we both come up with next!
Without any further adeiu, I give you all at VERY long last: The penultimate chapter!
The letter felt heavier than anything only consisting of parchment ought to in Eliza's hands as she read over the contents. Theodosia's handwriting was impossible to not recognize with the neat way she accented each later and used cursive so meticulously neat that it was impossible misconstrue the legibility.
Dear Madame Eliza,
After all these years of both enjoying and lamenting each other's acquaintance, you ought to know that I am slow to anger but I tow the line as I reckon with the effects of your life on mine. In the past couple of weeks, I have reflected to where I've failed in my life, and you may be unsurprised to know that in every place, the only common thread has been your insolent disrespect. For all of the opportunities that I have provided you throughout the course of our lives, I find it to be terribly blasphemous of you to be preventing me from achieving the things in my life that I have gone after with so much vigor when I have not proved to be a considerable roadblock in your personal endeavors. Yes, we may not have seen eye to eye for quite a few years past now, but nothing I have ever procured in our petty disagreements has ever posed a significant threat to you.
Now I hear from good friends of mine that you have called me immoral, dare I quote them, 'a dangerous disgrace'. With this in the addition to your treacherous statement that ultimately contributed to the downfall of my prosperity in running for the presidential seat, I have found myself left to pick up pieces for things I am not responsible for breaking. If you have something to say, I encourage that you say it bluntly and to my face, and for you to realize that this petty gossip that has been taking place behind turned backs and covered mouths is as beneath you as it is me. In short, if you've got something to reply, name a time in place, face to face, and I do sincerely suggest you think carefully and choose your next words as well as actions carefully.
I have the honor to be your obedient servant,
Theodosia Burr.
"My love, it seems all of the paleness in your face has vanished," her doting husband commented from where he sat with Angel, who was fast asleep and curled against his chest. "What has colored your cheeks so? Is it Jefferson again?"
"Though it may come as less of a surprise to you, the matter actually concerns Theodosia Burr," Eliza admitted in a tersely solemn voice. "She has grievance with my political standpoint regarding the most recent election and solely blames me for her failed campaign."
Much to her pleasure, Alexander immediately let out a half-laughed 'tsk' and rolled his eyes. "The woman grows delusional in her age. Does she not recognize that your stance only affects those who would have followed you should have been publicly transparent or otherwise? Preposterous."
"I concur, my dear," she noted while rolling her own eyes pointedly. "I have more pressing issues to attend to than these childish accusations. I do not truly care to give this postage the dignity of a response."
"I suggest that you follow that feeling. You are correct in that she is not worth the ink, and certainly not worth the emotional response that she is eliciting from you," he advised while carefully readjusting their youngest child. "Focus your time where it will give you flourishment. We are too experienced and growing too old for these games, don't you think?"
Eliza admittedly hesitated in her answer despite how she did largely agree with him. It was most unlike her to simply ignore the political stirrings of her rivals and pretend as though they would not have consequences for attempting to soil her good name, not even after all of these years (if what she pulled by marching into a cabinet meeting was indictive of who she was.) It felt dishonest to neglect things that had been so critical to her character and reputation no matter how harmful they were, even if the very thought admittedly fatigued her. Now that she was at the ripe age of forty-five, such pettiness paled by far in comparison for the strongest relationships she'd ever had with her loved ones. Even with her heart welling up to her throat at the concept of subtly admitting the error in her previous ways, she neatly the folded the letter and discarded it in the waste bin.
"As long as I remain in the good graces of those who truly matter to me, that would be enough," she affirmed aloud.
Alexander gave her a warm smile, slowly rising to his feet to kiss her sweetly before turning on his heel. "Thank you, my love. Now, I must be off to my lecture classes for my students at the college. Maria is preparing dinner tonight, so I ask that you aide the children with any lessons they have questions on. Do keep in mind that Lexi has been struggling quite a bit with his mathematics, and Martha's sewing remains to be insecure. Perhaps you could also speak with Frances on the rather dismal state of her reports before her father finds out-"
"Need I remind you that as a woman, I am a fairly competent homemaker if not an exceptional one?" She interjected with a fond eye roll. "Be on your way before you are late! I shall handle things here."
He kissed her once more, carefully settling their baby in her arms and smoothing her hair back from her eyes in a final gesture of farewell fondness. "I am certain you will. You are, after all, the best of wives and best of women."
As her soulmate's footsteps descended on the staircase, she cast another look to their daughter, then to the door before gingerly pulling the letter from Burr from the trash and placing it in one of her desk drawers. She would keep her word on not responding to it, at least not immediately, but she had the strong premonition that simply holding on to this written record would not do any harm.
New York, June 1804
Out of the two members of the rivalry established between Hamilton and she, Theodosia understood plainly that she was historically the most likely to let things go or to not bother with things that could not be changed. Regardless of this fact, she simply could not let the transgressions against her slide, not even after substantial time had passed. Of course, it was not as though her opponent was without guilt when it came to subject of her prolonged defense and aggravation, but somehow it was consistent that Burr was the one to send multiple letters despite no clear responses, if a response in writing was granted at all.
"Burr!" The sound of her 'boss's' voice cut through her stewed concentration, making her jump and immediately fixate a glare to the smug offender.
"What do you want now, Jefferson?" She demanded bluntly, refusing to refer to him by his official title as much as she'd done the first day of their being in such high office.
"I hope you aren't too lost within your own head to do your job," Thomas scoffed. "I have orders and bills to be sorted through based on their importance. You are to take care of these by the time I return from my evening appointment."
"And why am I obligated to do your monotonous work when the allotted time for the office has expired?" Theodosia sharply protested as three sizeable folders were dropped unceremoniously to her otherwise immaculate desktop.
"A leader's job is never done, Burr," her senior drawled with a devilish grin playing on his lips. "Surely you knew that when running for such high office. Is the pressure too great for you? I certainly wouldn't be surprised given your…delicate state."
"Pray you tell the precise meaning behind your words," she said tightly.
If there was any true shame within the insufferable President's head, it did not at all translate in his response. "Oh, come now, Miss Burr. You have been without a husband to take care of you for a full decade, and your children have gone on with their lives with so little regard for you that it would break any mother's heart. Add that in with your political ineptness and the fact that God simply didn't make women to handle so much stress…Well, let me be the first to say it is a surprise to me every day when you walk through the doors."
"The question is not my ineptness; it is your bias being so influential that I am confined to irrelevance!" Theodosia practically snarled in response while rising sharply to her feet. "If our fellow countrymen knew of the prejudice and neglect that takes place within the walls of these offices, they would be far more appalled than they proclaim to be in their concerns that they wasted a vote on myself."
"Tut, tut, Miss Burr!" Thomas let out a short, jeering laugh as he turned away from her and headed for the exit. "Have you been too consumed in your own failings to embrace reality? The things that take place between us have little relevance above petty gossip to the people, and despite your own beliefs, their thoughts are merely unsubstantial opinions, particularly in the eyes of the law. If you truly want to deliver what you believe is 'justice' for this country, find yourself a beau to comfort you and alleviate your burdens. A woman isn't meant for this line of work; we both know you are no exception. In the meantime, be a lamb and get to work, alright darlin?"
With a pointed kick backwards, the heavy wooden door shut with a reverberating 'thud' and left the vice president feeling more humiliated and furious than ever before. She would have to be a damn fool not to know of how he and so many other lawmakers gossiped about and insulted her, but now he was cutting with reckless abandon into her personal life in order to try and uproot her; that was dirty even for the likes of him. Theodosia felt as though she was paralyzed by her fury as she continued standing perfectly still for a few very long moments, her head ablaze with offense at the audacity of someone she'd once respected while her eyes inevitably filled with hot tears. When the weight of what had just happened seemed to finally peak and send her back into motion, she threw the folders harshly against the floor and let out a broken sound somewhere between a sob and a long scream into the fabric of her skirts while biting it into her mouth to further muffle herself. The bastard certainly did not deserve to know he was getting the better of her, especially when she knew that this reaction was practicality useless when she knew there was nothing she could do to change her position aside from resigning.
As she composed herself several minutes later by drinking water and cleaning up her stained face, she could not help but return to the long-stewing hatred she felt for that damned Elizabeth Hamilton. It was her fault that she was so tortured and miserable in a position that they both knew would only bring her sorrow beneath the radical nature of Jefferson's biases. If Theodosia had achieved becoming the third president of their country, she would be a historic powerhouse, one that no one would dare not to take seriously, and one that would set in motion reforms that desperately needed to be made within their young nation. Instead, she was as much of a figurehead as their country was in their 'representation' when they were still Britain's colonies, and she was constantly reminded and ridiculed for it by statesmen and general citizens alike. Her entire life had gone to unredeemable ruin, all because of a haughty, privileged, sharp tongued, sob-story driven scholar of an immigrant woman with a delusional political party that never ceased to cause nationwide issues.
"I want to be in the room where it happens…" Theodosia whispered now as she stood alone in her office, which suddenly felt much too small and much too disgusting thanks to the clutter of Jefferson's God-forsaken documents all across her floor. "The room where it happens, was almost in the room where it happens…She kept me from the room where it happens for the last time."
Despite her strong desire to leave the mess for her boss to deal with himself, she knew that such disrespect would only harm her in the long run despite how bitterly enraged she was. She reluctantly organized and signed off on each bill and proposition that she had jurisdiction on before dropping them each on the ground in front of his office to give herself at least one subtle way of insulting the man. Burr wasted no further time in mounting her stead and hurrying on her way home, her grip on the reins tighter than usual and the commands she barked to her horse harsher than she usually would handle any animal with. As she went on her way, several people either waved to her in eager greeting (usually women), and others simply avoided her gaze or outwardly gave tight, displeased expressions as she passed (usually well-dressed men). Despite the kindness of many, the flame of passionate righteous could not be dulled from her today, and she wasted no further time before storming inside her office and writing a final letter to coax a reply out of her enemy.
Dear Elizabeth,
Your lack of response continues to agitate me rather than appease the simple requests I have made to you for nearly two years' time now. In a different time, I may have complimented your evident ability to not confront a problem head-on, as that has caused you many problems in your past. However, I must now concede that I find you to be little more than a placated coward, and that I have expected more from the likes of you. I now comprehend that I was ill-dispositioned to know how you would handle my pleas and demands alike, and though I am sorely disappointed, I suppose I shan't contact you further.
Perhaps that husband of yours had finally gotten through the immeasurable density of your head. Perhaps you are attempting to make amends for a messy affair that led to a public downfall so severe that you rarely emerge from your home for anything more than casual socialization and chores. Still yet, it may be that you have reflected that impulsivity and spite will only get so far if not used wisely. The consequences of your public image undoubtedly reach home in the wake of your daughter's death. I maintain my curiosity and shock at the notion that you'd rather put the father of her last rival in a more prestigious position than myself, but I am sure you have no doubts that he treats me with all the respect that he would of an insect who wandered in the building.
Perhaps you will see past whatever naïve game you are playing with me and give me the very basic decency of a written response. Regardless, I wish you the best in your own attempts to reconcile your life as I do the same. I must ultimately wonder if the world truly is wide enough for the two of us to coexist, but I suppose we will see.
I have the honor to be your obedient servant,
T. Burr
Theodosia could not help but to find that the red-hot anger inside of her was beginning to cool as she re-read this letter. If Jefferson was stooping to deplorable levels to get beneath her skin in shamelessly displaying sexism and poking at the most tender events of her life, she was doing the same with Hamilton. Even if she did not particularly like her rival any longer, bringing up a public scandal as well as the death of her eldest child were two very heavy-handed insults, ones that the irresponsible use of could lead to terrible consequences for herself. Hamilton was insufferable and their friendship was permanently in a state of shattered disrepair, but Burr had to admit to herself as she looked over the piece of parchment that someone she detested so truly did not deserve the pleasure of knowing how she'd hurt her, no more so than Jefferson or Monroe did.
She was just about to destroy the parchment and cast it to the bin when a knock came at her front door. When she opened the door, she was alarmed to find a young man holding a large bundle of flowers in one arm that had a large length of thyme tying the arrangement together. Even within the leafy encasement, Theodosia could make out yellow carnations and peonies, and something that suspiciously resembled butterfly weeds amongst the yellow and lavender shades. She received the parcel with a very tight smile, resisting the urge to immediately hurl the offending florals in favor of undoing the wrapping and inspecting exactly what flowers she'd been sent, and from whom.
Just as she'd originally noted, yellow carnations and peonies were all intertwined together by butterfly weeds, all of which had clearly been well upkept so that they were in good health upon delivery. At the very base of the package, Burr was positively shocked to find a singular, large sunflower, one that practically stared back at her as she lifted it away from the rest of the parcel with trembling fingers. On the end of the thyme, she found a folded-up piece of parchment, which simply read:
Your incessant messages have been received, Ms. Burr. I will keep mine short in response; I do hope you understand it clearly nevertheless. I have the honor of being your obedient servant- E. Ham.
Theodosia was shaking uncontrollably as the rage overflowed with new vigor, the force of it making her feel ill as her new tears flooded from her eyes. She made up her mind now that she had no reason to feel any empathy for the woman poisoned by political pursuits, and that she should not hold anything back if her foe was not going to, either. The widow practically flew back to her desk, sealing the letter with just a drop of wax before scrawling out the address and flagging the mail boy back down. This was the final time she'd be humiliated by the likes Hamilton.
When the response came nearly a week later, she had time to prepare herself. She steeled her nerves as she unfolded the letter, delicately smoothing it out along the desktop as she studied Elizabeth's long-anticipated formal response, which she could already tell was quite lengthy.
Ms. Vice President,
I do believe you have parted far from the original sanity and sensibility that I granted you to have when I first came to this budding country. A large portion of my conscience insists that I not give your audacious, bold, and crude letter the dignity of a response, but you brought more into this fight than what was morally allowable. You have slandered the name of my decisions in the condemning of my deceased child as well as compromise my family's suffering for your own amusement, and I cannot allow that for a single moment longer.
To put it bluntly, you disgust me. I am not the reason that people do not trust you. That stems more from the fact that nobody is certain as to what you believe, and you have only yourself to blame for that. I am all-too familiar with your strategies and decisions to neglect mentioning that this is blatantly intentional on your part. You do not take a side in hopes of winning everyone's favor on the assumptions that you are on their 'correct' side of the political spectrum, and yet it has kicked back spectacularly in your face. You are clearly far too immature to acknowledge your own responsibility for your upheaval, and you would much rather throw it on a scapegoat like myself than grow from your mistakes. Ultimately, I am not to blame, and you detest that fact.
Furthermore, if you have grievances with me specifically, I expect you to site them. Vague statements are simply inflammatory and have no academic merit behind them, so I have taken the time to attach an itemized list of the nearly thirty years of disagreements that have occurred between us on record. Unlike yourself, I kept receipts of these exchanges in case of my needing them, and given how petulant you are behaving, this was a wise call on my behalf.
I will not force you to write back nor encourage you to abstain from it. However, I will tell you now that I honestly do not give a rat's ass about what I said that pissed you off. There is nothing I have ever said to you to merit the apprehensible things you said to me concerning my loved ones, so nothing will ever justify your ignorant rambling. I stand by what I said; every bit of it. You are the kind of person who stands only for yourself and tries to convince others that you do not long enough for you to utilize them and then toss them aside. I cannot nor will I ever consider apologizing for the truth.
I have the honor to be your obedient servant,
Ham.As promised, the itemized list was attached, and Burr did manage to look over it with some reverence before casting the loose binding all out into the streets below from the roof of her home. She forced herself to prepare and eat dinner as well as reply to her son's letter before she replied to Elizabeth, but her response was much shorter and concise than her cheeky counterpart could ever hope to convey.
Hamilton,
If you are woman enough to insult me so fruitfully and withstand the harsh lash of my tongue in turn, you ought to be woman enough to take a genuine stand where the stakes mean more than squabbling like schoolchildren. July 11th, Weehawken, dawn. Guns drawn and grievances to be fully laid to rest.
She added their now-usual snarky response to the end along with her abbreviated signature. She also took the time to procure an orange lily from her garden, pressing it and slipping it in the envelope with the parchment before having it dropped it off at its' appropriate address by one of her hired hands. After all, she would not risk for a second that the wrong eyes could happen upon this formal and risqué rendezvous, especially when duels were illegal in their home state by this time. Elizabeth would undoubtedly get this message loud and clear, and should she respond appropriately, there would no longer be a need for revenge-seeking behaviors and decades of bad blood to continue to matter.
Theodosia Burr had been wronged by Elizabeth Hamilton for the very last time, and they both knew it well, even before the letter was opened by the recipient.
Elizabeth was returning from a morning in the city with some of the children- her and Laurens' youngest in specific- when she received the final infamous letter from one Theodosia Burr. She'd allowed the little ones to fill it moderately sized pouches of sweets for her to buy for them when she'd stopped by the bulletins as per usual, so she was admittedly surprised to have a home delivery waiting for her neatly on her desk. As was typical for the intelligent and curious children whom she'd spent so much time with, they followed her into her office and settled in to watch her do some of her work before they inevitably grew bored or fell asleep for their usual naptime.
"MamaMamaMamaMamaMamaMama~" The youngest member of the family, her Angelica Jr. -Angel-, babbled eagerly, her small hands bundling around her mother's skirts as she attempted to hoist herself into Eliza's lap.
Despite the coldness that ran sharply to her core as she read what Burr had written, Eliza took her daughter into her lap and settled the toddler against her as she debated internally on how to respond. Theodosia had not only done the unthinkable and outright challenged her to a duel, but she had done it with the expressed knowledge that she'd lost one of her babies to one such act of violence and vile powerplay. She quietly stroked Angel's back as she pondered what refusing would imply about her honor while potentially preserving her overall legacy, and how agreeing would give her honor but endanger her family to yet another loss. Even if she were able to come out as the victor of this deadly arrangement, it would mean the blood of a long-time former friend on her hands, not to mention she could very well be jailed or killed for such a thing.
Then again, who had she become if she would allow someone to talk so boldly and cruelly to her and in concerns to her most beloved family? If she allowed Burr to walk away without penalty for such gross misconduct, it could very well encourage other enemies to take these kinds of jabs at her going forward. For all of her many faults and mistakes, she had spent most of her political career attempting to shield her family from the onslaughts and risks that came from her aggressive statements and bold power moves, and she refused to have anything or anyone upend it, even her own pride. The past few years had been relentless enough without some conceited older enemy trying to worsen things because of past quarrels that did not amount to anything truly significant regardless of what said enemy thought.
Ultimately, the thought of abandoning of her loved ones via the vice of death was what made her the most hesitant. She had no doubt that her Alexander would persevere long after she was gone, and had similar feelings about her children, John, and Maria. As a matter of fact, everybody in her life would find ways to survive and be happy if she should die, and yet she could not justify indulging the selfish notion of taking flight into the great unknown. Despite her religiousness and despite her most private beliefs being that she and everyone she loved would be better off if she were no longer around to ruin more things, she could not willingly walk into something as serious as a duel on a whim or for petty reasons. If she were to give her life, it had to be for something greater than her own agitation or caving into her rival's prodding.
"Mommy…" A soft voice brought her out of her deep thoughts and had her turn to face her middle daughter, the very child that was named after herself and whom they all affectionately called 'Lizzie.' "I had a bad dream…"
"My poor dear," she sympathized softly while brushing the five-year-old's hair back. "Why don't we go to your room, and I'll tell you a little story to help you have kinder dreams."
"Y-yes please," the girl agreed lethargically, immediately nestling into her mother's lap and encouraging her namesake to scoop both her and her baby sister up to tuck them both in into their sections of the former nursery.
"Now," Eliza said once both of her precious girls were cozy in their beds. "What kind of story would you like to hear today? Do you want one from one of your books?"
"Mommy, can you tell us one about our big sister?" Lizzie's doe-like eyes were pleading, and Elizabeth knew at once that she wouldn't have been able to deny her request even if she had wanted to.
"Of course, dear heart," she replied softly before adjusting herself against the bed and wall. "Well now, let's see…Have I ever told you about the time that she and your older brothers threw a 'health ball' for me and your Papa when we recovered from the yellow fever?"
"What's a health ball?" The small girl tilted her head.
"We didn't know either," Eliza confessed with a smile. "It was something that your big sister made up. She wanted to do something special to celebrate that we didn't grow disabilities or even die from what we went through with that God-awful fever, so she declared to her brothers that they would throw a ball in honor of our good fortune."
"That's silly," Lizzie giggled softly. "How old was she?"
"Eleven," Eliza recounted with a smile. "She may have been quite young and her brothers all the younger, but that did not deter her for a single moment. With a bit of help from your Aunt Peggy, Uncle Laurens, and Aunt Maria, she did pull together a very nice little ball. As a matter of fact, it was one of the only ones that the city dared host amidst all the sickness, and everyone in attendance had a fabulous time. Why, as a matter of fact, Angelica told me some time later that on that evening she had her very first formal dance and kiss!"
"Really?" Lizzie's eyes were sparkling despite the dimness of the room as she snuggled close to her mother. "With whom, Mama, with whom?"
"She never did tell me," the forty-seven-year-old admitted with a bittersweet smile. "But I am sure that the young gentleman was very lucky to have known her."
"Tell us more about this ball? What did you all eat? Did you wear pretty dresses? Were you and Papa surprised? Who all came? Would we have got to go to if we had been there?"
"Now now, settle down. I will answer all of your questions in due time," the mother soothed while tucking her girl in more securely. "I will tell you everything that I know, my dear. I promise."
Of all the many less-than-ideal things that Elizabeth Hamilton was, she was indeed a woman of her word. She told her babies of the dazzling gowns and suits, the sparkling lights, the fireflies in mason jars with holes in the tops and the food that had been home prepared. She told them of the music, of the band and how someone lost their bow when a piece grew too quick for him to keep up, and of the news reporters who asked questions for the following issue of the papers. She told them of how this ball was a beacon of hope amongst all the death and disease, and how Angelica Sr. had demanded at least three dances with her beloved mother before the night drew to end. How she and Alexander had been so proud and so surprised, and how their eldest and her brother had crawled into their bed that evening for the first time in years to celebrate their all being home at long last.
By the time she finished, Lizzie and Angel were well-asleep, and she was grateful to be able to clear her misty eyes in private. Somehow it did not seem that her precious girl had been gone for nearly three full years while it simultaneously felt as though she never died at all. Even now, she secretly longed for her to come strolling in through the door, getting animated about everything just like her mother and knowing just how to comfort her siblings like her father. The pain of losing her along with everyone else she'd outlived never truly ended, including the still occasionally freshened grief of the loss of her poor older sister (who now had two namesakes). It did not seem fair any more now than it ever had that somehow Elizabeth, who had made millions upon millions of mistakes, got to go on and be successful when so many others were long deceased.
Theodosia must feel the same way. Theodosia even had the gall to mock her with these facts, and that sent a rage over Eliza so intense that she nearly screamed aloud. Theodosia Burr had crossed the line of no-forgiveness with involving her family, especially her late girl in this, and she had all of their honors to defend just as she must defend her own. She could not, would not, allow a cruel backstabber like Burr to hurt them any further and tarnish their carefully preserved legacies. This was so much more than just about the two of them now.
Accepted.
Your obedient servant,
.
It had been on a whim that Theodosia had returned to the bulletins late in the evening on the day before the scheduled duel. She held the parchment leaves that she'd procured from the envelope she'd found for her there in both hands now as she stared at the writing across them, hardly able to comprehend what her youngest son, her Theodosius, had written to her.
"…It is with complete sincerity, Mama, that I must confess to you that I was previously courting for a marriage that I had never been so certain that I could not live without," she murmured as she re-read his writing for what felt like the hundredth time. "I have been, and reckon I always will be, completely smitten with one Angelica Hamilton, and that her untimely murder was the main catalyst seeing to that I move so far from the nest where I could only spread my wings a limited amount thereafter."
The rest of his letter acted as a simultaneous confessional and massive informational supply. He talked of some aspects of the courtship he'd undergone with the late daughter of one of her greatest nemeses, from the early days to the 'cruel end he was forced to live through.' He then went on to tell her that had met a fine young woman that made him feel as though love were a bright possibility, not a cruel prison he'd be endlessly confined to, and at the end he included a formal invitational for her to not only attend their impending wedding, but also walk him down the aisle.
The end only very nearly covered up the absolute rage and betrayal that stemmed from the massive front of his letter. She nearly cast the first nine pages into the flames as tears of joy mixed with devastation and rage poured down her face, but she thought better of it long enough to simply throw them into her bottommost, least-visited drawer. By the middle of the next day, the past would no longer matter, anyway.
…
One. Theodosia dressed sensibly, using a fresh shift and a dark grey stomacher to compliment her black, only very lightly ruffled dress. She used the pistols that she had inherited from her father, ones that were as practically built as she found herself to be. She checked the ammunition more than was necessary, made sure that she had backup and tucked her potential final letter to her children into the backing of the case. She left her other papers- a copy of her recently signed-off upon will- on the kitchen table so that they would not be missed before walking two miles to the park where she'd meet with the rest of her party. They made their way in their carriage to the Hudson river thereafter and were well across the water when dawn had just begun to streak its way across the sky.
Two. William P. Van Ness had been employed by her to be her second. He held her steady as they arrived at their predetermined location in Weehawken, and he helped her out of the boat with ease. As per usual for a duel, the sky was only adorned with a couple of practically transparent clouds, banishing any chances of rain. Nearby, Hamilton was approaching the landing, her face steely enough to match Burr's own. Elizabeth had brought along Nathaniel Pendleton- Theodosia wondered in a moment of sharp clarity if she had even told her allegedly precious best friends of this event- and had also provided a doctor that they both knew.
Three. As Hamilton dismounted her boat, she examined the terrain with a hardened gaze and with her mouth in a tight line. It was unusual for her to not be making some kind of commentary or otherwise egging on her enemy and that made Theodosia feel fidgety at the very base of her stomach. For a moment, she considered giving the younger woman a final chance to apologize in favor of turning their precious lives toward more worthy pursuits, but the notion died quickly when she thought back to her son's letter.
Four. First position was given to Hamilton, who drew it rigidly while casting her gaze back across the horizon. The sky was growing richer now, casting more light across this land that was so full of tension and hatred that felt frozen in place. Theodosia worried briefly that they would be caught if the sun rose too high, but she dismissed it with the stubborn belief that this was nothing that she could not maneuver her way out of if worse came to worse. Perhaps law enforcement would be less tricky than somehow escaping this woman's marksmen abilities, the ones she'd witnessed countless times during the Revolution. The doctor seemed to sense her thoughts as he cast a long, weary gaze toward the two of them before turning his back to ensure his own deniability.
Five. She thought back to one of the cruelest blows she'd taken to stir her enemy to action; the death of that damned Angelica Hamilton. Her son had never been the type to leap headfirst into danger, to recklessly defend imaginary concepts like 'honor' until he practically put himself on the chopping block. That girl did and would have further tainted all she'd built up in her son, and it was all because of her even more forsaken mother. She would only learn in hindsight that they were near the same spot that said girl died.
Six. Hamilton's gaze did not leave her gun. She methodically ran her fingers over the trigger, her expression hardening and changing to something much more guarded. Theodosia had no doubt now that Hamilton's mind was poisoned by her own political pursuits. If her clock was threatened to expire, she would not hesitate to shoot.
Seven. Burr had never been much for the war. She was a pretty good shot under calm circumstances, but in the line of fire she grew anxious. Precision was not her strong suit like it was her opponent's. Perhaps a duel was not in her own best interest, but it was the only way left to solve this to ensure no chance of it resurfacing.
Eight. The final time to negotiate came and went like the calm breeze that ever-so-slightly ruffled the leaves on the trees. Van Ness came back to her while shrugging off a scowl. She understood her friend perfectly before he said a thing. As he spoke words that she would ultimately not recall, she watched as Elizabeth slipped her glasses over her eyes and stared with a cold, apathetic expression to her. She had never seen her wear corrective lenses for any reason other than reading. She felt her own fingers tighten hard round the barrel of her gun; this Hell-bound woman would not make an orphan of her son.
Nine. Theodosia looked Elizabeth in the eye, reminding herself as calmly as she could possibly muster to aim no higher. Courage exploded through her senses as her stomach seemed to give way to a bottomless well, and she turned with precise ease as they put them both through their paces. This was the finale; there was no more time for hesitation!
One-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight-nine- she aimed her pistol at the sky, but it was too late-
Ten-
Eliza had been working on her letters when her husband roused to join her. His hair was adorably messy, and his eyes were only half as bright as they were when he was fully awake, so she did not hesitate to wrap him around herself and snuggle back into him as he stood behind her desk chair. He buried his face into her freshly combed and washed hair and inhaled deeply.
Nine-
"Eliza, come back to sleep~" He crooned. She wished she could tell him that she longed to more than she had ever longed to abandon any project before.
"I have an early meeting out of town, my Hamilton…I may have forgotten to mention it sometime last night…" She murmured in response.
"Who could possibly want to meet now, in the dead of the night?" Alexander grunted.
"I assure you that there will soon be morning's sweet light," she nearly whispered against his soft and lightly caressing hands. She wished she could tell him how she had prayed as she had when they lost their girl that this morn would not be her final.
"Betsey…" He inhaled against her again before moving to stand between her and her desk.
Eight-
"Why do you write like you're running out of time?" Her Alexander continued with a sleep-laced smile.
"Shh…" She crooned in return. Could he feel how her heart felt leaden and cold in her chest when he buried his face against it?
"…You always…write day and night…" He murmured.
Seven-
"…like you're running out of time…"
"I will be back before you remember that I've gone," she tried in a soothing voice that she tried to force to not tremble. Could he have come to any other conclusion; would he have really wanted her to if he knew what Burr had involved?
Six-
"My Betsey, come back to sleep~" Alexander attempted with a final drowsy look of pleading from where he was still tucked into the crook of her neck.
"I am truly sorry," she whispered with all of her deepest sincerity for their rapidly approaching reality soaking her words. "But this meeting is at dawn."
Five-
"Well, I am going back to bed," he finally relented before giving her a gentle, sincere kiss.
Eliza's breath caught in her throat as he began his way back toward their bedroom, and she caught his hand carefully but firmly before he was fully away from her. "Hey… Best of husbands, best of men."
He gave her another one of his most treasured smiles before disappearing into the darkness of their home.
Four-
Eliza had taken the time to kiss and embrace each of the darling children, all of hers that were hers in heart as well as from her and her Alexander. She wished to herself silently that she could do the same for Peggy now; she would have done so if she'd been there. They all slept soundly through this early morning that felt more like the precursor to tragedy and she found herself grateful.
Three-
Eliza had been mindful to crawl into the bed with Maria before she left. She softly combed her hand through her loose curls, cuddled her back when she naturally rolled toward her. She kissed her forehead and whispered how much she loved her, that she was eternally grateful to have had her as a best friend, and that she did not regret having been so intertwined in her life, even if the methods were not conventional and far, far from perfect.
Two-
Eliza had done the same for her John. She tucked into his arms, shushed him gently and methodically when he roused ever-so slightly. She told him how their hearts understood each other's more clearly than time could have ever prepared her for. She told him how she loved him in her whispers, and how she would not have changed a single thing in any life to have the opportunity of having been so close and so privileged to know him. She whispered she knew he felt the same, and that even if he somehow did not, she would understand.
One-
She'd asked them all to take care of her Alexander for her.
-last-
She always intended to aim her pistol at the sky.
- thought…
…
From the moment she first experienced seeing death at the tender age of six, Elizabeth had imagined it so much for herself that it felt more like a memory. Memories of all the times that she could have died, all of the times that she should have died, and the knowledge that this was why she would die all occurred in a frenzy, yet as a single, inevitable thought that her soul seemed to understand before her mind could begin to comprehend.
The dilemma was as cut-and-dry as the bullet that she could see coming toward her. She could flee but it would catch her, she could fire back but that would not stop it, or she could let it simply be. Time all around her seemed to be ticking forward like the thunderous beating of her heart, but her thoughts were still as rapid as ever while the end approached ever closer. There was no peace and there was no chaos. There was no more room for uncertainties.
Theodosia Burr. The woman who had been her first friend, her first general complication of love and hate, her sworn enemy, and now perhaps the final face she would ever see. In the end, were all of her triumphs, failures, accomplishments and mistakes all to be overshadowed by the bullet that this woman fired toward her? Was Burr always meant to be her legacy? In the same thought, she questioned what did a legacy mean to her if she was not going to possibly be around to see it come to fruition, and how everything she'd ever done had been the beginnings of notes in a song that hopefully someone could one day sing for her.
She was a beginning, she realized with a sharp intake of breath. She was like her country; a great unfinished symphony that she impacted so deeply and so sincerely, and yet she was at the beginning, even now as she herself was at her end. Her legacy was long ago orchestrated in a bigger plan, then, one more than she could ever possibly wrap even her brilliant mind around. All that she could know- and had always known despite everything else- was that her loved ones were equally as certain as her larger impact upon the world.
She was running out of time. Her time was up, it was time for her to make her last decision and rise up, wise up, and she lifted her eyes up…
Across the horizon, past the endless light and colors and ever-occurring certain beginnings of the day, she could clearly see a glimpse of the other side. Her older sister was teaching a flawless dance to faces she knew well but could not quickly recognize by name. Her daughter was on the other side; she was with her long-lost siblings on the other side. George and Martha Washington were hand-in-hand, watching from the other side. She longed for them all now in a rush of grief combined with a relief that she could not possibly have ever felt before, and yet she had no idea how to say goodbye. How could she conceivably understand how to say goodbye to her city, her living siblings, her living children, her Maria, her John-?!
Alexander.
It looked as though she would not make it back to him before he opened his eyes after all, and she already could not wait to see him again. Despite how she longed for just one more kiss, one more affirmation of love, one more look at him, she smiled to the imagine she saw of him so clearly before her while the tears streamed down her cheeks.
My love take your time. I will see you on the other side.
...
She reached out to take her daughter's hand.
Theodosia knew even then that the sound of her bullet making contact with Eliza's torso would haunt her for as long as she should be condemned to live with her greatest mistake. She felt her heart go numb, then her entire body as she sank toward the ground that her former friend collapsed upon. She did not recall reaching toward her, but she was quickly brought to her feet and ushered to her own boat while Hamilton's crew frantically rowed her back across the Hudson.
The drink she was given by Van Ness was hardly enough to cover up her knowledge of the wailing she heard in the street as she was briskly walked through town. Van Ness was gripping her arm, whispering instructions frantically, writing something down clumsily as they walked. He was telling her something about hiding, and trials, and liability. All she seemed able to focus on was the flask in her hands, and the sounds of a family falling apart somewhere behind her as she was unceremoniously put in a carriage back to her home. She realized only halfway into her journey that she was sobbing, too.
…
…It is in this letter that I now summarize to you that I am at the very beginnings of my sorrows, and that there shan't be another day that I am not reminded of July 11th, 1804. I will be joining you and your Josephine by the earliest ticket available, and I will be hesitant but obedient to answer any clarifications that you may need for my aforementioned accounts. Do not pity me if it so compels you to do so by natural position; I myself have been the one too blinded by my own eyes to have seen the truth as it so intently stares back at me and laughs.
Perhaps I shall take this communal time to acknowledge what it demands me to. The world, it seems, was indeed wide enough for both Hamilton and me. The world was somehow wide enough for all of the endeavors and tragedies and loves and victories of one Elizabeth Hamilton…and me.
Your loving mother,
Theodosia Burr.