Chapter Twenty Nine

John Laurens

"What are you going to do?" John asked as he watched Hamilton pack his bags.

Washington had commanded Hamilton to leave as soon as he ensured that Burr had all of the necessary documents and information to train his replacement. John had balked when he heard the news. He had expected to receive a sharp reprimand from Washington over the duel. He had not expected Hamilton to be fired.

Hamilton made a heroic attempt at a smile.

"I will go home and begin our law practice." He said. "By the time the war is over, we will have plenty of clients. And I will have more time to write. Perhaps I will be able to get Congress to understand the necessity of a stronger central power. I may even spend time with my family. We could have children within a year or two of one another. My son could marry your daughter."

John smiled faintly, if for no other reason than to humor Hamilton.

"Would you check on my family on your journey home?" He asked. "I hold no doubt that Marty is doing very well in the company of my parents, but I would like little more than for you to meet Frances. I believe you would find her most agreeable."

Hamilton looked puzzled. "You want me to introduce myself to your daughter?"

"Well...yes." John wondered if such a request was improper. "Perhaps you might ensure that she is well. My wife might enjoy the company, as well. You might invite her and Frances to visit you and your wife in New York."

"You would like for me to live with both my wife and your wife?" Hamilton echoed dubiously.

John shook his head, blushing with embarrassment.

"Never mind." He said hastily. "Never mind. It was a foolish idea."

"No, I…" Hamilton closed his bag, then turned to look at John. His smile was more subdued than usual, but it was affectionate. "I would like to meet you daughter. I do not know that your wife would find an invitation to visit my wife and I in New York agreeable, but I would like to meet your daughter."

"I will write a letter of introduction for you." John said, relief flooding over him.

He did not know why it seemed so important for Hamilton to meet Frances. He did not know if he sought Hamilton's approval of his daughter, or his daughter's approval of Hamilton.

Hamilton nodded, still smiling slightly.

"All of my effects are packed." He remarked after a moment. He gestured back to his small bag. "I should…"

John swallowed hard. He nodded, too. "Yeah."

"I am going to miss you, John." Hamilton looked down at his shoes. His eyes were redder than they had been a moment ago. John wondered if Hamilton was on the verge of shedding tears. "I will miss everything about camp, but I will miss you the most of all."

"I will miss you, too." John agreed, his throat clogged. He felt tears burning at his own eyes. It would not do, both of them emerging from Hamilton's quarter while weeping. It was important, at least for the sake of John's subordinates, that they not show such emotions. John had to appear strong.

"And I…" Hamilton shook his head. Tears sprang from his eyes. John watched as they raced down his cheeks. They rolled off Hamilton's sharp chin and splashed onto the floor beneath them. "John, you know that I…"

John had to look away, for fear that he would shed tears, too. He focused on a spot on the wall where the paint had chipped.

"I know, Alex." He said, his voice hoarse. He continued to stare at the wall. "And I love you, too."

Hamilton nodded. From the corner of his eye, John could see Hamilton's lips wobble as the tears got the better of him. He raised his hand to wipe away the tears as best he could.

"Shh." John worked to comfort Hamilton the way that he had comforted Frances. He stopped staring at the wall and took Hamilton in his arms. He felt Hamilton's rigid posture dissolve at his touch. The sobs he had been attempting to suppress, he now let loose against John's shoulder. He took large, jerky breaths in between sobs. John could do nothing but run his hands through Hamilton's hair and quietly assure him that all would be well again.

He did not know if Hamilton was crying about the loss of John's company, or if he was crying for the loss of his only way out of poverty. John would not ask him. He did not know which answer would have been preferable.

Hamilton remained in his arms for nearly ten minutes. When he finally lifted his head from John's shoulder, his face was red and puffy. There was snot running down from his nose. John did not recoil from Hamilton's appearance. Instead, he removed his handkerchief from his breast pocket and handed it to Hamilton. Hamilton let out a small, blubbery chuckle, then set about making himself presentable.

It took another ten minutes for the redness in Hamilton's face to dissipate. During that time, neither Hamilton nor John spoke much. They would exchange small smiles. Hamilton apologized once or twice for the tear stains which would now forever grace John's uniform. John waved off those apologies with a smile. He did not mind Hamilton leaving a mark on him. Neither exchanged sentiments of love or their imminent separation, for fear that tears would emerge once more. To sit with Hamilton in silence was enough for John.

Hamilton slung his bag over his shoulders once he was fit to face down Washington and the rest of the camp. He and John exchanged grim looks. Hamilton then moved towards the door. John trailed at his heels.

They walked out of Hamilton's quarters. There were men gathered around his quarters, their hats in their hands. John had known that Hamilton was popular, but he had not anticipated such a turnout of men to watch Hamilton leave. Among them were Burr and Lafayette.

John turned to look at Hamilton. The man appeared to be at a loss for words. It might have been amusing to watch Hamilton flounder for words for the first time in his life, had the scenario not been so solemn. The men looked at Hamilton expectantly. They were waiting for him to say goodbye in a graceful and sentimental way which would make them feel better about his departure.

Men were selfish that way.

"T-thank you." Hamilton struggled to maintain an even tone as he looked at all of the men surrounding him. He did not look down, as he had with John. It would not have done for Hamilton to appear overcome at this moment. "Thank you all for your friendship and your camaraderie in the years we have fought side by side. It was a pleasure...an unparallelled honor getting to know you all. I hope that you will continue to act with diligence and honor for General Washington, and for your country. Goodbye, my friends."

It was a good speech. It was made better by the fact that Hamilton had not written it beforehand. Among the small crowd, there were tears. Lafayette was unabashedly wiping tears from his eyes with his handkerchief. Burr was pretending to hear something behind him, turning his head every time tears threatened to spill from his eyes.

Hamilton did not linger. He walked through the crowd of men towards his horse. The men clapped his back and cheered for him as he passed by. Lafayette grabbed Hamilton once he was within reach. He pulled a poor, blushing Hamilton into a tight embrace, then planted a kiss on each of his cheeks.

"Adieu, mon amie! Adieu!" He cried out.

John could not help but smile at Lafayette's farewell. It was a sad smile.

Burr rescued Hamilton from the embrace after a moment. With his usual reservedness, he settled for merely shaking Hamilton's hand.

"It has been an honor working with you, Hammie." He said. "I will, erm, I will be sure to send Theodosia to you when she is ready to divorce that husband of hers."

Hamilton laughed. It was wonderful. It filled John with a happiness that he knew he would miss in Hamilton's absence. The colors of the world seemed brighter to John when Hamilton laughed.

"I will miss you, Burr." Hamilton said once his laughter subsided.

"Yes, well, I will not miss you, Hammie." Burr replied gruffly, very obviously joking in order to avoid a candid expression of emotion. "With all of your criticism and your awful morning hours…"

Hamilton chuckled, a tear escaping from his left eye. He swiped it away with the sleeve of his coat.

"Go to hell, Burr." He joked, his voice watery with his tears.

"I'll see you there, Hammie." Burr bit back. His own eyes were growing red.

Hamilton smiled at Burr one last time before climbing atop his horse. He looked at John one last time, then spurred his horse on. The men who had gathered to see Hamilton dispersed, until it was just John, Lafayette, and Burr left. They remained where they were until they could no longer see Hamilton's dashing figure disappearing in the direction of the sun.

When John turned to look at the other two men, he was startled to see that Burr was crying harder than any of them.

Alexander Hamilton

Traveling by oneself gives one a great deal of time to think. While Alexander typically enjoyed the process of thinking, he found that he did not like the things he was left to think about on his journey back to New York.

He could not fight back thoughts of concern regarding his chances of success. He had left George Washington's staff, and he had not left on good terms. Washington had not even come to see him off. Alexander had believed that Washington would afford him that courtesy, at the very least.

He likely would not see John until the end of the war. He tried very hard not to think about the look on John's face just before he had ridden away. It was a look heartbreaking enough to make Alexander want to stay.

He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he nearly rode through Philadelphia without stopping. He nearly forgot John's very strange, very endearing request. He glanced down at the address that John had scribbled down on the envelope which encased a letter of introduction. He navigated the roads of Philadelphia until he found himself in front of a large and resplendent mansion.

A stableboy - a slave, from the looks of it - took his horse. Another servant greeted Alexander, politely asking for a letter of introduction. He handed over the letter that John had written with a small smile.

"Very good, Colonel Hamilton." The servant said, bowing to Alexander.

"Please." Alexander shook his head. "Just call me Alexander."

He was no longer Colonel Hamilton. He was no longer a member of the militia.

The servant looked deeply uncomfortable with the prospect of calling Alexander by his first name. He bowed again.

"Allow me to escort you to the drawing room, sir." The servant politely sidestepped the issue by not addressing Alexander by any name. "Mr. Laurens will see you shortly."

"Mr. Laurens?" Alexander had expected Henry Laurens to be at work during his visit. He had not anticipated meeting John's father during this occasion.

The servant did not further explain. He led Alexander to the drawing room. It was a very nice drawing room. Alexander was invited to take a seat in one of the plush chairs against the walls. There were books littering every surface in the room. The servant left Alexander alone in this room. Alexander took advantage of the solitude. He rose from the plush chair and picked up the books, one by one. There were a wide variety of titles in the room. There were books that were so extraordinarily rare that Alexander had been shoo-ed out of bookstores for merely asking about them. They were laying out for any stranger to leaf through, boasting that they were just the tip of the iceberg for the Laurens family. The rarer books, undoubtedly, were just beyond the oak doors of Henry Laurens' office.

"Do you read, Colonel Hamilton?" An older, somewhat raspy voice asked as he began to leaf through the fifth or sixth book that he picked up.

Alexander spun around to see Henry Laurens standing before him. He did not look so regal as Alexander had imagined when reading his letters of hearing John speak of him.

Alexander hastened to bow low, as was appropriate for a man of Henry Laurens' stature.

"It is a pleasure to finally meet the man I have been corresponding with for so long." Henry Laurens remarked, gesturing for Alexander to return to his seated position in the plush chair. Henry occupied the other.

"It is an honor for me to meet you, sir." Alexander hastened to say. "I apologize if I have interrupted your schedule. Jo - erm - Colonel Laurens requested that I visit his family on my way home to New York. He wishes for me to ensure that his wife and daughter are well."

"That is very courteous of you, Colonel Hamilton." Henry approved. "I have sent one of my servants to fetch John's wife and daughter. They shall be with us presently."

"I am simply 'Mr. Hamilton' now, sir." Alexander said, rather abashedly. He had angered one great man already; he did not wish to anger a second.

"Mr. Hamilton, then." Henry agreed amicably. "You are a very gifted writer."

"Thank you." Alexander hoped that he was not blushing. He did not want Henry to think that he was vain, or took great pleasure in receiving such praise.

"Do you read often?" Henry asked.

"When I have the opportunity." Alexander replied, trying not to look pointedly at the books on the side table between them.

"And how is my son?" Henry moved on to the next subject.

"He is well." Alexander answered unhelpfully. He did not wish to volunteer too much information on John, for fear of arousing Henry's suspicions.

Henry nodded, obviously not appeased by this answer. "Does he seem to have control of his men? I have often worried about his leadership. I do not know that I devoted enough time to teaching him how to lead when he was young."

"His men respect him very much." Alexander assured Henry.

"Mr. Laurens." The same servant who had greeted Alexander at the door entered the room. He bowed low, beyond a typical showing of respect. "Mrs. Laurens sends her regrets - she is feeling unwell and unable to entertain at this time."

Henry turned to look at Alexander. Alexander hoped that he was not blushing. This time, the blush would not come from a feeling of pleasure. Instead, it would come from a feeling of embarrassment. He knew that John's wife did not like him - he could not fault her for her disdain, given all of the information that she knew - but he had not expected her to refuse to see him. It was a snub that people would likely gossip about throughout Philadelphia.

Alexander looked back at Henry. He did not know if Henry would ask him to leave. He did not know if Henry shared the disdain that John's wife felt for him, nor did he know how much Henry knew about his friendship with John. He felt as though John had set up a trap for him to fall into.

"I am sorry to hear that poor Martha is unwell. It must have come on very suddenly." Henry's smile was strained as he spoke to the servant. "If Frances is not unwell, like her mother, I would like it very much if you could bring her down to meet Mr. Hamilton."

The servant bowed again. "Yes, sir."

"Mr. Laurens, I do not mean to be an imposition. I am certain that Colonel Laurens would understand if I were to tell him that his wife was indisposed at the time of my visit." Alexander gave Henry the excuse he needed to ask Alexander to leave.

"You are not an imposition at all, Mr. Hamilton." Henry disagreed. "You are John's closest friend - it is proper for you to make your introduction to his wife and child. As a man who I have corresponded with at great length, you are further welcome into my home as my own friend."

"You are very hospitable, sir." Alexander ducked his head in a demure gesture.

"Ah, there she is!" Henry called as the servant carried a small child into the room. "Frances, will you say hello to Mr. Hamilton?"

The child made a sound which was not a word. Alexander appreciated the politeness, anyway. Henry rose to his feet, taking the child from the servant with an extraordinary amount of care.

"Mr. Hamilton, meet Frances Laurens - John's daughter." Henry brought the child closer to Alexander, allowing him a better look at her.

She favored her mother in many ways. Her brows were furrowed, giving her a rather severe expression that was amusing to see on such a young face. Her lips were thin and pursed. Her hair was dark and straight. Her eyebrows were slightly overgrown. Her cheeks were round and ruddy.

Her eyes, though, those were all John's. Even the way that she blinked resembled John. Alexander smiled, forgetting momentarily that he was being observed by Henry.

"She is beautiful, is she not?" Henry said politely.

Alexander jerked his head up, making eye contact with Henry once more. He smiled awkwardly.

"Yes." He replied. "She is very beautiful - a credit to your family. I will assure Colonel Laurens of her progress in your family's care. How old is she?"

"She is nearly four months old." Henry said. "Though the family physician insists that she resembles a six month old. She is very advanced for her age."

"Then she takes after her father." Alexander proffered, hoping to please Henry with such a compliment to his son.

"Hm." Henry smiled imperceptibly.

He did not agree with Alexander's compliment, nor did he seem very appreciative of it. Instead, he shifted Frances in his arms with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Would you care to stay for the evening, Mr. Hamilton?" He suggested after a moment. "The sun will go down in an hour or so, and it is a long and fraught road to New York. We have plenty of food and extra rooms."

Alexander did not wish to dwell under the same roof as John's wife, but he could not argue with Henry's logic. If he continued on, he would have to find a suitable inn on the road or risk being caught by bandits or British soldiers. He did not know which would be worse. He did know that it would not be polite to spurn Henry's offer. Beyond that, Alexander had much to gain from forging a friendship with Henry. Perhaps he could manage to get a position in the new government once the war was won through his connection with Henry.

"I would enjoy nothing more. Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Laurens." Alexander said with his most charming grin.


Alexander was given his own room and fresh clothes - clothes which formerly belonged to John - to change into. He was then invited to supper. The scent of fresh meat and vegetables had been wafting through the house since Alexander had been brought to his room to freshen up. If there was anything positive in having been removed from his position in the militia, it was eating civilian food once more.

He was the last to arrive to the dining room. Henry rose to his feet as Alexander set foot in the room. Alexander waved off this courtesy and shook his head.

"Please, cause yourself no discomfort on my behalf, Mr. Laurens." Alexander implored him in his most charming and polite tone. "Thank you for inviting me to sup with you this evening. The food and company are more than I deserve and I am much obliged to you for providing both."

Henry smiled. He liked Alexander's courtesies, as most men of his generation did.

A servant pulled out a chair for Alexander. Alexander nodded towards the servant gratefully, then dropped into the seat. Once seated, he looked around at those who would be his dinner companions.

John's mother, Mrs. Eleanor Laurens, was there, of course. There were two young ladies whom Alexander did not know. Judging from their complexion and the color of their eyes, they were related to John; perhaps his sisters. There was a sour-looking man sitting beside one of the young women, likely her husband.

And then there was John's wife.

Sitting directly across the table from Alexander was John's wife. She looked startled by his presence - if not horrified. Alexander tried to avoid her eyes, lest she spit fire at him.

"Mr. Hamilton, allow me to introduce you to my family. This is my wife, Eleanor." Henry began, nodding to Eleanor, who was sitting to his right.

"Mrs. Laurens." Alexander nodded to Eleanor with a smile. "John has praised you countless times in my presence. Before my departure tomorrow morning, I should like to see your garden. I have heard that your ability to grow roses is unmatched."

Eleanor lit up at Alexander's words. Henry smiled, too. Alexander was doing well, so far.

"And these are my daughters, Martha and Mary. On Martha's side is her husband, Mr. Ramsay." Henry continued, gesturing to the two young women and the man sitting near him.

"It is a pleasure to meet you." Alexander turned his attention to John's sisters. "Though I have not heard as much about you both from Colonel Laurens, I am aware that both of you had exceptional debuts into society. Colonel Laurens took care to warn me not to visit his family in Philadelphia until both of his beautiful sisters were married."

Both of the young women giggled. Alexander had a talent for flattering young women. In his opinion, it was a much more useful talent than athleticism or a knack for learning languages.

"And last, but certainly not least, I believe you have met John's wife, Mrs. Martha Laurens? It seems that she is now well enough to attend dinner." Henry introduced John's wife, the woman called Marty (as masculine as such a nickname was).

"Of course," Alexander did not let his dislike of Marty ruin his behavior. "You and your husband attended my wedding. You were my only guests, as I recall."

Marty smiled as though her mouth was full of vinegar.

"Is that so?" One of John's sisters, Mary, asked. She looked over at Marty, her eyes wide and her mouth downturned. "But how can that be, Mr. Hamilton? You are so charming, I cannot imagine anyone who would not wish to attend your wedding!"

Alexander smiled at the praise. He artfully looked away from Marty. He was relieved for something to distract him. Marty seemed relieved, too. She had not acted as though she intended to respond to Alexander's statement, anyway.

"A majority of my friends are in the war." Alexander explained, not wishing to seem unpopular. "And the other majority are located such that it would have been a tremendous burden for them to travel. My feelings were not injured by the small crowd. It was pleasing enough to have Mr. and Mrs. Laurens among our loved ones."

"Who did you marry?" John's other sister, Martha, asked. "Do we know her?"

"Elizabeth Schuyler." Alexander replied.

He liked that he was able to say that he was married to a Schuyler. He liked the prestige that came with the family name. He liked the way that Henry leaned back in his seat and smiled approvingly in Alexander's direction.

"Elizabeth...which one is she?" Martha turned to look at Mary. Both young women deliberated. "Is she the one who is always stirring up gossip? You know the one - she was up here for a party not so long ago. Beautiful, always wearing those dresses…"

Alexander cleared his throat to stop Martha's rambling. When both of the sisters turned to look at Alexander for an answer.

"I believe you are thinking of my wife's elder sister, Angelica. Eliza is the middle sister. She is not so vivacious as Angelica, nor as mischievous as Peggy, but she is affable and kind." He explained.

"Oh! Of course! Eliza." Mary exclaimed, patting Martha's arm excitedly. "Oh, I met her when her father brought the whole family to town two years ago. She is a delight. She was the only girl at Mr. West's party who did not spend the whole evening gossiping. She is so nice."

Alexander smiled with pride. He enjoyed hearing his wife's praises just as much as he enjoyed hearing his own. He liked the confirmation that he had chosen right in proposing to Eliza.

"I certainly think so." Alexander contributed, still smiling.

"She is one of General Schuyler's daughters, is she not?" Henry asked from the head of the table.

Alexander was proud of the connections that came with his marriage.

"Yes, she is." He replied. "Her father did me a great honor in permitting me to ask for her hand. I could not have found a better friend or father-in-law had I spent the rest of my life trying."

"You are so charming, Mr. Hamilton." Mary remarked, shaking her head in wonder. She was smiling. It was the kind of smile which suggested that she was temporarily smitten with Alexander. Alexander liked that sort of smile the best.

"It is no wonder our dear brother is so attached to you." Martha contributed. "For even the shyest boy, as our dear John is, could not resist such charms!"

Alexander smiled faintly. He wished that Mary and Martha would speak more of John. He wanted to hear stories from John's youth. He wanted to hear stories that John had been too embarrassed to tell him. He wanted to know as much about John as his own family did.

The sound of a chair scraping across the floor caused Alexander to flinch. He turned in the direction of the sound - right beside him - and saw the figure of Marty fleeing the room. She had not properly excused herself. Both Henry and Alexander hastened to leap to their feet as she stormed out of the room. Alexander looked around the table, embarrassed. He wondered if Marty had left the room to escape his presence.

"I apologize for her." Mary said as Henry and Alexander returned to their seats. "She is very sensitive to all mention of John. I will check on her after dinner."

Henry nodded, resuming his meal. This signified that everyone else should eat without any further thought for Marty.

"So tell me, Mr. Hamilton," Henry said as though nothing had happened. "What are your favorite books?"


Alexander liked the Laurens family. He could not understand John's resentment towards his family, barring the matter of his father's slaves. He wished that he had a family like the Laurens family.

The morning after his night with the Laurens family, Alexander prepared himself to set out for New York. Henry, Eleanor, Mary, and Martha came out to the stables to see Alexander off. Marty was notably absent. Everyone pretended not to notice. Alexander did the same.

Once Alexander had resumed his journey, he was again left with his thoughts. Instead of allowing himself to be tortured by such thoughts, he replayed his exchanges with the Laurens family. He thought about the book that Henry had given him, now rattling around in his saddle bag. He thought about the roses what Eleanor had given him to bring to Eliza. Those were placed carefully in Alexander's bag, protected at the roots by cloth. He thought about the way that Mary and Martha laughed at all of his jokes.

Before long, he arrived to the familiar sight of his street. He slid off of his horse and began to walk it down the street. His legs were sore from riding. Walking felt nice in comparison.

As he put his horse in the stable beside his house, Alexander began to worry about Eliza. He had not written to her in advance, warning her of his imminent homecoming. He had not prepared her for the news that he had been fired from his esteemed position. He wondered if her father would be angry with him.

He need not have worried.

"Alexander!" Eliza screamed so loud the moment that Alexander stepped through the door that Alexander wondered if the whole street had heard her. She dashed over to him, throwing her arms around his neck.

"Sweetheart." Alexander nuzzled the curve of Eliza's neck. She smelled like perfume and warmth. It was a luxury compared to the scent of the average man in Washington's camp.

"But what are you doing here?" Eliza finally pulled herself out of Alexander's arms. She looked him over, as though she could not believe that he was not merely a figment of his imagination.

Alexander would have answered her question, had he not been distracted.

"Eliza, what...how...how long have you…?"

Her stomach was larger than it had been when Alexander had last seen her, and not merely out of marital bliss. She was with child. She was far enough along that she was showing.

Eliza's hands moved to hold the curve of her stomach. She smiled, almost apologetically. Despite her bashfulness, she was happy. Alexander could tell from the sparkle in her eyes.

"About five months." She admitted. "I missed my course just after you returned to General Washington's camp."

"Eliza, you should have told me." Alexander could not help admonishing her. He regretted all of the letters he had sent her, warning her against spending too much money, or asking her to keep the house clean in his absence. Had he known that she was with child, he would have written gentler letters.

"I wrote to General Washington." Eliza tried to justify herself. "I wrote to him a month ago."

"No." Alexander murmured.

He could not understand why Eliza had written to Washington instead of himself. He could not understand why Washington had not told him about Eliza's letter. Washington had countless nights, countless opportunities to tell him.

"I begged him to send you home." Eliza added.

"You should have told me." Alexander told her forcefully. "You should not have written to -"

He had not told Eliza not to trust Washington to convey such messages, but he had not known that he had to. He assumed that something so important as the existence of his child would be a message that Eliza wrote to him and him alone.

"I am not sorry." Eliza surprised Alexander by defying his expectations of an apology. "I knew that you would fight until the war was won."

"The war is not done yet." Alexander reminded her pointedly. He did not tell her that he had not returned home on his own volition.

"But you deserve the chance to meet your son." Eliza continued firmly. "Please, do not be angry with me, husband. You are here now, safe with me. All is well."

Alexander nodded. He wished to condemn Eliza's decision further, but to do so would be senseless and cruel. Instead, he took Eliza by her hand and led her to a set of chairs at their small dining table. He did not drop her hand as they each took a seat in chairs beside one another.

"Do you soberly relish the pleasure of being a poor man's wife? I-I-I have not accepted any pay for my services. I have no funds beyond what I had saved before the war." He could not help but ask her. "If you wish for the elegant life you once had - the life that many of your acquaintances still have - tell me now, for if you wait even a moment longer, it will be too late."

"Alexander," Eliza removed her hand from Alexander's grasp. She brought that hand up to the side of his face, resting that soft, delicate hand against his cheek. He could feel the warmth of it against his skin. "I relish being your wife. Money does not matter to me."

She looked at him with such open adoration that it made Alexander feel ashamed. He felt ashamed for things he had done before he had married Eliza. He felt ashamed for things he had done after he had married Eliza. He felt ashamed for things he would do in the future. He knew that he was undeserving of her.

"I do not know what tide of misfortune has returned you home to me before the close of the war." She continued, unfazed. "But I do not care. We are in no need of a legacy upon your name, nor are we in need of money. I need only you, husband. I hope that you are in similar need of me. I hope that...though I cannot compete with the glory of war...I hope that I am enough for you."

Alexander looked at her, incredulous. She took his silence as a bid for her to continue speaking.

"I love you." Eliza professed, moving closer to Alexander. Her hand still cupped the side of his face. "And if you will only let me inside of that beautiful head of yours, and that beautiful heart, I think that you will love me, too."

"I…" Alexander stopped. He had to think about the words that he would say next. He had not known that Eliza was capable of such sentiments. He had never been loved in such a way - so selflessly. Even John was selfish in his love for Hamilton. He removed Eliza's hand from the side of his face. He brought it up to his mouth and pressed a kiss against it. "You are the best of wives. You are the best of women."

Eliza smiled.

Alexander tried to convince himself that Eliza's smile made his heart ache the same way that John's smile did.