Chapter Thirty
John Laurens
Dear son,
Your friend, one Mr. Hamilton (no longer Col. Hamilton for reasons presently unknown to me) stayed with us the previous night, to our tremendous pleasure. He stated that his reason for his visit was to ensure that your daughter, Frances, was well. While I profess some disturbance at your apparent lack of belief in the assurances of myself and your wife, I believe you will hear from him a resounding confirmation that she is well.
Your mother and sister were taken with Mr. Hamilton's wit and charm. I will admit that I, too, was taken with the man, though for his intelligence more than his social graces. We each availed upon him during his stay. I discussed books and politics with him and found that his knowledge and opinions made him a most agreeable conversationalist. Your mother showed him the garden, at which point he displayed an enthusiasm and knowledge towards horticulture which pleased her to no end. She requested his address before he departed our company, as she intends to write him several letters on the subject of her garden, having mistaken his politeness for a genuine interest. As your mother and I grew weary from such excitement, your sisters entertained Mr. Hamilton for the remainder of the evening, passing him between themselves as though he were a favorite kitten rather than a man.
It should be noted that your wife acted rather coolly towards Mr. Hamilton throughout the evening, going so far as to leave the table in the middle of supper without first excusing herself. A letter from you, reminding her of her social obligations in this household, would not go amiss. I believe she has quite forgotten herself among the freedoms and social blight that accompanying you to camp brought with it.
In all, I believe I can say with great confidence that he is a man you should maintain a long-standing friendship with, regardless of the amount of effort or stamps such a friendship would take to sustain. This advice is contingent on the circumstances which led to his retirement from the militia at an unsuitably young age.
I trust that you are doing all in your power to honor your family name.
Respectfully,
Henry Laurens
My dear brother,
Your dear friend Mr. Hamilton joined us for one evening just a few nights ago and I must confess - I liked him much better than I thought that I would! In your letters, you made him sound dreadfully academic and serious! If I were Mr. Hamilton, I would sue you for slander, for he is not dreadfully academic or serious at all.
I must tell you, I am very annoyed with you for not introducing me to Mr. Hamilton before my own marriage was arranged. He told me that he is married to Eliza Schuyler - a dull lady, if ever there was one! Surely she cannot appreciate all the fun that Mr. Hamilton is like to create.
You must send me many pretty things to make me forget how angry I am at you for keeping Mr. Hamilton forever out of my reach.
Your loving sister,
Mary
Darling John,
Since your friend, Mr. Hamilton, has visited us, the house has been in uproar! Father is calling our family the Hamiltonian Secret Society, as Mary is convinced that she is in love with Mr. Hamilton, and Mother has written the poor man six letters since he departed four days ago. To make matters worse, your strange wife excuses herself from the room whenever Mr. Hamilton's name is mentioned - and it has been mentioned quite a lot as of late.
Pray tell, is this the true nature of the war? Are Britain and America engrossed in a fight over the colonies, or over who may claim Mr. Hamilton as their own? For Mary certainly believes he would be a suitable war prize.
I hope I will soon be able to write you with happier news. I fear that I will soon be obligated to write to you to inform you that Mary has fled to New York in the hopes of a reunion with Mr. Hamilton.
Your loving sister,
Martha
Husband,
I am writing you to afford you the opportunity to explain yourself. Yesterday, I had the unhappy experience of being ambushed by Colo. Hamilton in my own home, having been given no warning of his presence until the moment that it was announced. I was later told that it was you who had encouraged him to visit your family.
Your father has chastized me for my rudeness, as I told Hercules that I was ill at the time of Hamilton's visit, having no suspicion that your father would do something so ridiculous as inviting the man to stay for the evening.
Your family is now angry with me for my rudeness to Hamilton. I am angry with you for foisting him upon me, and for granting him access to our daughter.
I expect your reply to contain an apology.
Your dutiful wife,
Martha Laurens
Dearest Colonel Laurens,
I have returned to the solitude of my home once more.
I have a great deal to tell you - much has happened within the past few days! - but I will start by telling you about my journey home.
I do not believe I ever saw a sight so unhappy as your face as I prepared for my departure from camp. I longed to remain, if for no other reason than to see you smile. I miss your smile above all other things. Were I an artist - I would draw nothing but your smile. I would not leave my house, for why leave when I could stare at your smile all day long?
On my journey, I stopped by your family's home, as you requested of me. While I was dismayed to encounter a handful of your father's enslaved people, I found the house to be resplendent and well-kept.
Your father received me first, which I found unusual. I was unaware that men of his stature were able to make themselves hospitable in the middle of the day. I suppose his availability to play host to me is indicative of the amount of letters getting through to Congress these days. During this reception, we briefly discussed books and your well-being. I hope you do not mind my disclosure of the fact that you are well to your father. I did not know the extent of the boundaries which exist between your father and you.
While your father spoke with me, he sent an enslaved person to fetch your wife and daughter so that I might converse with them and ensure their well-being on your behalf. Your wife feigned illness to avoid me - it is not paranoia which led me to this conclusion, as she appeared for supper once she believed the house to be rid of me - but I was able to meet your daughter in her absence. I must confess, she does not favor you in appearance, but for the most remarkable eyes that could only belong to your kin. She is doing very well. Your father boasts that she is advanced for her age.
After being introduced to your daughter, I was invited to pass the evening with your family. It was an invitation which I gladly accepted. I thoroughly enjoyed getting to know your family, though I know they are a difficult issue for you. Your wife left supper before anyone had eaten very much. I fear my presence spoiled her appetite.
The next morning, I departed for New York. I arrived safely within the day, which gave me much pleasure. There, I was reunited with my wife.
This, I fear, will be shocking news to your system, as it was to mine. I pray you set down this letter if you are in a fragile state. I do not wish to cause you any additional harm.
When I returned to my home in New York, I found my wife with child. There is no doubt that the child belongs to me - the timing aligns perfectly with our wedding. She believes the baby will be a boy, as does every other member of her family. I believe the baby will be a girl, as Eliza is one of three sisters. I suppose it does not matter greatly...if it is a girl, your Frances will soon have her dearest friend and confidant. If it is a boy, your Frances will soon have her husband.
I have not forgotten our plans. I have resumed the practice of law, taking on a series of clients who do not boast crimes of murder or conspiracy, but pay well and promise to refer their friends to me if I win their case. The firm will be here for you when the war is over. I will be here for you when the war is over.
It is my most ardent wish to hear from you soon. I despair the absence of your words.
Adieu.
Yours,
A. Hamilton
John let out a sigh as he set down Hamilton's letter - the last of the pile of letters that he had received the day before he set out for South Carolina. He had departed Washington's camp shortly after Hamilton had, having no reason to remain.
Now, seated in the grim quarters of his camp in South Carolina, he was confronted with the task of replying to each of the letters.
Marty expected an apology for Hamilton's visit. John knew that he should draft his first reply to her letter, accommodating her request for an apology. It had been unkind to let Hamilton appear on the doorstep of his family home without first warning Marty. That said, he had not anticipated his father inviting Hamilton to remain in their home through the night.
John had not anticipated his parents liking Hamilton at all. He believed that his father would view Hamilton as superficial and flirtatious. Instead, Hamilton had struck his father as intelligent and obliging. Hamilton was both of those things, certainly, but John had not expected his father to notice.
Even more surprising, perhaps, was that John's mother liked Hamilton well enough to correspond with him. John would have to apologize to Hamilton for his mother's enthusiasm, but he could not deny his own pleasure that she liked him. Eleanor Laurens did not even like Marty.
John was not surprised by his sisters' reactions to Hamilton. There had been a reason that he had refused to permit them to correspond or meet until both of his sisters were married.
The response John dreaded writing the most was Hamilton's.
He did not know how to congratulate Hamilton on his wife's pregnancy. He did not know how to be happy that Hamilton was forming his own family, one which did not involve him.
He knew that he should be happy. Hamilton had congratulated him when he found out that Marty was pregnant. Hamilton had even gone to his home and met his daughter to make John happy. John could, at the very least, scrawl the words 'congratulations'.
He pulled a fresh piece of parchment and dipped his quill in his ink.
Alexander Hamilton
Dear Mr. Hamilton,
Congratulations on the pregnancy of your wife! It must have been very happy news for you to come home to. I will write to Frances straight away, alerting her that she is destined to have either a best friend or a husband within the next nine months. I am certain that she will be delighted.
My father has written me, telling me that you are the recipient of many letters from my mother. I apologize for the inconvenience that these letters create. Do not feel obligated to reply to each letter - she will not hold such inaction against you.
I apologize for my wife's conduct during your visit. I cannot make excuses for her behavior. It was childish and impolite and she has been reproved.
I further apologize for the 'unhappy' scene I created upon your departure. I did not relish the thought of a prolonged absence. I still do not. I wish for nothing so much as I wish to be with you. It is only the fear of losing your respect - but not the respect of my country - which prevents me from resigning from my own position and enjoying a retirement from public service in New York. I do not wish to disappoint you, of all people.
Please do me the favor of a response. I live for nothing other than your letters.
Be true.
Yours,
John Laurens
"How did you find Colonel Laurens' letter?" Eliza asked as she tidied the room which had become Alexander's office. She kept a respectful distance from where Alexander was reading John's words, while wiping dust and ink off of books before replacing them on the shelf.
"It is a good letter." Alexander responded, keeping his voice even. "He has apologized for his mother's frequent letters."
Eliza laughed. It was a light sound. Alexander could not help but smile. He turned around to look at her.
Eleanor's letters had become an inside joke between Alexander and Eliza. Most days, there would be a letter from Eleanor waiting on his desk when he returned home from work. Eliza would always announce these letters in a playful tone, wondering aloud if she ought to be jealous that Mrs. Laurens was sending him love letters.
"And what of his sister's letters?" Eliza teased, sidling closer to Alexander. She did not seem interested in looking over his shoulder at the letter. Instead, she ran a gentle hand through his hair and dropped a kiss to the side of his head. "If I did not know Mary better, I would suspect that she was in love with my husband."
Alexander chuckled. He shifted in his chair to wrap an arm around Eliza. He pulled her closer. He smiled up at her. He liked how happy she was. It seemed to him that Eliza was the only pregnant woman he had ever met who was determined to be happy every waking second of the day.
"Do you not enjoy having a husband who inspires such attentions?" He wondered, grinning.
"I would rather keep you all to myself." Eliza replied, ducking down to press a kiss against Alexander's lips.
"Then you would deprive the world of all of my charms." Alexander accused her playfully. "That would be very selfish of you, Mrs. Hamilton."
"Call me that again." Eliza hummed, leaning against him.
"Mrs. Hamilton." Alexander repeated, rising from his seat and pulling Eliza to him. He began to sway, as though his words were a song to be danced to. "Mrs. Hamilton, Mrs. Hamilton, Mrs. Hamilton…"
After a few months, Alexander found that he did not enjoy his work as a lawyer as much as he had enjoyed working for Washington. He had hoped that he would enjoy the ability to manage himself, and the politeness of his clients compared to the soldiers at camp, but it all felt dull and meaningless to him. He had no inclination to uphold laws when he knew that they would be rewritten at the close of the war. He had no appetite for the work, as accomplishing a divorce felt unimportant when compared to liberating a nation.
He did not tell Eliza of his increasing boredom. He knew that she was trying very hard to make his retirement enjoyable. Every evening, he would return home from work to find a lavish meal on the table and Eliza wearing one of her best dresses. She would ask him about his day, about his opinions on the news being reported in the papers, and whether he liked the food she had prepared. She never complained. She smiled more often than she frowned.
Alexander did not like to admit it, but he even found Eliza's good nature to be boring. She never challenged him, she never disagreed with him, and she was never angry with him. Sometimes, he caught himself saying things in an effort to provoke her. It never worked.
Angelica Schuyler's frequent presence was Alexander's only reprieve from boredom in New York. She was unafraid of getting angry with him, and would often question his intelligence. Very rarely had anyone questioned Alexander's intelligence. She brought over books that she believed he would enjoy, she squabbled over the correctness of his opinions, and she forced him to go shopping with her at least once a week.
Today was one such day; Angelica had insisted that Alexander needed a new coat. It was to be one of emerald cloth. Angelica swore that it would compliment his eyes and his complexion.
"In such a coat, perhaps you could find the confidence to write to Henry Laurens and inquire about a position on the Continental Congress." Angelica suggested, waggling her eyebrows at Alexander from across the tailor's shop.
Alexander rolled his eyes and grinned.
"I am happy with the job that I have." He replied. "It makes enough money for me to support my wife - something that Congressional jobs cannot boast - and I am able to remain in New York with my family. It is a good, safe job."
"And I know how much you value a good, safe job." Angelica snarked, returning to Alexander's side. The tailor cast her a dark glance, warning her against coming any closer. Angelica obeyed this warning, lingering a few feet from Alexander.
"Eliza could stay at our father's house." Angelica persisted after a moment. "She could not be in safer hands than ours."
"Are you trying to get rid of me, Ms. Schuyler?" Alexander joked, his tone rigid despite his playful words.
He did not like having these conversations with Angelica. He did not enjoy her reminders that he was just marking time while history was being made just a few states over. He did not like thinking about the opportunity that he had squandered by leaving Washington's good graces.
"Do not be ridiculous. You know that I adore your company." Angelica responded with no hesitation. "My willingness to let you go should be sufficient to convince you that you must not settle for getting a woman a divorce from a husband who beats her, or springing an unrepentant man from debtor's prison. This is not the life that you were meant to have, Mr. Hamilton."
"I am done taking your measurements, Mr. Hamilton." The tailor said. He removed the fabric from Alexander's shoulders and took a step back. "You may expect your coat to be finished within the month."
"Thank you." Alexander smiled at the tailor graciously before starting for the door.
Angelica followed at his heels. She would not be ignored.
They stepped out onto the street. Alexander nodded at a few men and women whom he recognized. Angelica grasped his arm tight, pulling him close so that he might further chastise him.
"Why will you not consider my words, Mr. Hamilton?" She demanded, her voice losing its flirtatious tone. She was getting annoyed with Alexander's dismissal of her suggestions. "You cannot mean to wallow here for the remainder of the war. You are wasting your talents, wasting your intelligence. If you stay here -"
"I know!" Alexander exclaimed, exasperated.
The shout drew the attention of many passersby on the street. Alexander afforded them apologetic smiles as they continued on down the street. Angelica did not seem to notice the attention that they attracted. She was watching Alexander, silently furious. She was waiting for him to justify himself.
"I know." Alexander said. This time, he was careful to keep his voice at a manageable decibel. "But there is nothing that I can do about it. General Washington excused me from his camp in a moment of anger. I fear that such anger will bar me from entry to any other job I attempt to find. I cannot risk my reputation upon finding out. I would rather Henry Laurens believe that I am a charming and humble man, rather than a Washington-made pariah."
"You mean to tell me that you will not pursue success out of fear?" Angelica demanded. "That is not you. You are not a man who lives in fear."
Alexander shook his head. "You could not understand."
Angelica pursed her lips.
"Perhaps you are right. I have not been as brave as I would have liked in some ways. The times when I allowed cowardice to get the better of me, I lost things which were very valuable to me. I have resolved to be brave in the future. You should be brave, too." She said.
"Let us change the subject." Alexander encouraged her.
He did not wish to talk about his fear of Washington's toxic anger any longer.
"Very well." Angelica agreed with a huff of air. She looked around at every other person out shopping. "Did you hear that Mrs. McCullough attended Mr. Powell's ball while her husband lay on his deathbed?"
"Did she really?" Alexander turned his head to look in Mrs. McCullough's direction.
She was wearing black. She was now a widow in mourning. Despite her clothes, she was smiling as she conversed with Mrs. Hackett.
"It is said that she already entertains the idea of remarrying." Angelica added, casting Alexander an amused smile. "I would not be surprised if she kept a meticulous record of every available man in New York for her search. You shall have to take very good care of my sister, for if anything happens to her, you might be courted by Mrs. McCullough."
"Nonsense. If anything were to happen to Eliza, I would marry you." Alexander teased.
Angelica shook her head, still smiling, then turned to face the direction they were walking. Alexander did not take this as a negative reaction. He doubted that he had offended Angelica with such talk. Their friendship was one of flirtatious jokes and overstepping boundaries.
"I do not know if you would care for me as a wife." Angelica said after a moment of silence. "Sometimes when we walk together, as we do now, I imagine that you and I are husband and wife. You never seem so pleased when you are walking with me, as you are when you walk with Eliza. I seem to make you angry more often than not."
Alexander chuckled. "You talk about matters more controversial than the weather and fashion. Naturally, I am more like to disagree with you than I am your sister."
"Eliza is too kind to anger you the way that I do." Angelica conceded.
"She is." Alexander agreed.
He did not dare tell Angelica that he was beginning to wish that he had chosen a wife who would anger him. At least anger would be different and interesting. The role of a complacent husband in a happy marriage did not suit him.
"She was also kind enough to invite me to sup with the both of you tonight." Angelica seemed to notice the sort of melancholy which fell upon Alexander whenever he was permitted a moment to dwell upon his complacency.
"I would have invited you if she had not. We enjoy your company." Alexander forced a smile to match the one on Angelica's face.
They were nearing the street on which Alexander lived. Alexander recognized everyone who he and Angelica passed on the street. He nodded when people greeted him. He tried to hide his contempt for the lifestyle that he had fallen into. It was a lifestyle for someone spectacularly and fantastically normal.
"Perhaps I should move into your home." Angelica joked.
"Ah, I do not know that Eliza would appreciate your company so much if you were to live with us." Alexander chuckled. It was not a genuine laughter. He was forcing good-humor, for fear of hurting Angelica's feelings.
"Then perhaps you should get a dog and name it Angelica." Angelica suggested, nudging Alexander playfully. "Then you might enjoy the company of Angelica without worrying that she will say something with which you disagree."
Alexander opened the door to the house, holding it open for Angelica. She stepped into the house first. Alexander followed behind her, closing the door behind him.
"Alexander? Is that you?" Eliza called from the dining room.
"Yes," Alexander called back, removing his jacket and hanging it on the coat rack. "Angelica is with me."
"Oh, good!" Eliza called out. "Angelica, could you come in here and help me set the food on the table? Alexander, dear, you have a letter. I placed it on your desk."
"Is it from Eleanor Laurens?" Alexander could not resist asking.
This time, his smile was genuine.
"Um, no." Eliza replied. "I believe it comes from General Washington."
Alexander froze. He felt Angelica turn to look at him, her eyes boring into him with undisguised eagerness.
"You are going to have to set the table without my assistance, dear sister." Angelica called, pushing Alexander towards his office.
Despite Alexander's protests, Angelica pushed her way into his office behind him. The letter was sitting in the middle of Alexander's desk. The sight of it was made more ominous by the otherwise emptiness of Alexander's desk. Alexander recognized the handwriting on the envelope.
Washington had written the letter himself.
Alexander looked at Angelica. He wished that she would join Eliza in the dining room. He was afraid that the letter would contain allusions to inappropriate conduct that he would rather Angelica not know about.
Angelica looked back at him, defiant. She would not be removed from the room. Alexander let out a sigh of resignation and grabbed his letter opener. With no great amount of care, he opened the letter.
My Dear Colonel Hamilton,
It is with great humility and great pleasure that I write to you informing you of a command position which has opened up on the eve of a great battle. I have written to Congress, informing them of my intention to give you the command. This request has been approved unanimously.
It is my greatest wish that you would return to the militia and command a group of men on my behalf.
Your Humble and Obedient Servant,
GW
"Well," Angelica said, after reading the letter over Alexander's shoulder. "Obviously, you have to go."
Alexander did not say anything. He simply re-read the contents of the letter. For the first time in months, he felt a flicker of ambition. A smile crossed his face.
