Her laughter fills me with warmth, makes the mess I am making of myself worth it. She makes this look easy, how she mixed and kneaded the dough for fresh bread, stoked the fire in the stove down to embers warm enough bake, but not so hot to burn, meanwhile I struggle with the cobbler, even under her advice and instruction.
"You're wearing more flour than the recipe calls for, John," she manages, her laughter renewed as I blow back a curl that has fallen loose to land in my face, white from the flour. "And quit sneaking the berries. This is for Eliza."
"They're so good though," I whine, popping another berry defiantly into my mouth.
"And my sister carries our future niece or nephew," she admonishes me, and I sigh.
"Considering this is Alexander's first, I imagine it will be boy," I say, and she chuckles her agreement, and then pauses.
"What do you think we would have first?" she asks.
I take in a sharp breath at the thought as she finishes rolling the topping for the cobbler, a task I have failed abysmally. I watch as she re-kneads the dough to roll it out.
"I think a girl to share her mother's beauty would please me," I respond quietly, and then add, "a girl of sharp wit, raised to be as strong, independent, and outspoken as her mother."
She finishes the cobbler, puts it into the oven, and turns to me, a smile on her face as she pushes back my floured hair, and wipes away even more flour from my cheeks.
"Go clean up, you're covered in flour, John," she says softly, her dark eyes filled with tears, and I lift her face to mine, kiss her softly and ask what's wrong.
She chuckles. "Nothing is wrong. I'm just so pleased that you would choose a girl to raise so independently."
"She will be as educated as any man and will have every opportunity I could provide for her," I promise.
"I will hold you to that," she replies, and I laugh.
"I expect you to."
She kisses me and then urges me again to clean up. I go to the washbasin in our room, amused at the mess I've made of myself. I clean up and change clothes quickly, retie my hair and join my wife on the sofa, careful not to disturb her, and I take notice of the book in her hand, a collection of Shakespeare, I wonder if it is a drama or a book of his sonnets.
She peers over the top of it, a small smile on her face and I smirk, "Reading sonnets, are we?"
She rolls her eyes, "Actually I'm approaching the end of A Midsummer Night's Dream. I always enjoy Puck's soliloquy at the end, equal parts playful and sobering."
I am impressed, though not surprised, and nod. "Well, there is one good thing salvaged from the British. As for our plan for the afternoon, how much time do we have?"
"An hour, certainly no longer. We will leave the bread out to cool for later, perhaps stop by the tavern this evening for supper if Eliza does not request us to join them. I can wrap the dish of cobbler in a cloth and it can cool on the way to my father's house."
"That sounds fair enough. Do I need to arrange for a carriage?"
She shakes her head, "I sent a carrier with word that we would need one in an hour while you were cleaning up."
"Do I look presentable enough?" I ask with a smirk.
"Quite handsome, though I admit I miss the flour in your hair already," she replies and returns her attention to her book.
I take a seat on the sofa and pull her legs across my lap, which seems to please her, and then I ask, "Read to me?"
She lifts her gaze to me and asks, "What would you have me read to you, Mr. Laurens?"
"I trust your judgment, Mrs. Laurens," I answer.
She nods, turns several pages, and then begins, "Enter Orsino, Curio, and other lords; Musicians playing…"
She reads beautifully, our children will enjoy her reading to them, of which I'm certain given how she's entertained me in her reading, I know she will enjoy reading to them as well. She pauses in her reading every now and then, checking my interest, checking on the bread and cobbler. By the time she reaches the first scene of Act II, the hour has passed.
"We will save the rest for later," she says, closing the book.
"I look forward to it," I say as I get up and offer my hand to her and pull her up and into my arms. I am not one to risk temptations, our lips meet, the fire lighting, but we have places to be.
She makes short work in pulling the bread and cobbler from the oven, wrapping the cobbler in cloth as the carriage, one of her father's, arrives. I take in a deep breath, feeling slight apprehension. I have not been back to her father's house since the impromptu confession of our marriage.
She chuckles, raises her right brow in challenge, and says, "We are going to visit Eliza and Alexander, not to confront my father. Given his dislike of you and ongoing displeasure with me, he will either retreat to his study or take his leave of the house for the afternoon."
I hope my relief isn't too evident. She hands me the cloth wrapped cobbler and I follow her out of the door. She sees to locking the door and we find ourselves in the carriage. She watches me in amusement as I continue to fidget the entire ride. Encountering her father, the one time was more than enough for me.
Upon arriving we are let into the house by the butler, and Peggy rushes up and says, "Angelica, and uhm…"
I grin at her blush and say, "John."
"Right," she responds shyly, her cheeks flushed from her energy and embarrassment, and then in her cheekiness continues, "So, Eliza is expecting, when will Angelica make me an aunt two-fold?"
Angelica shoots her little sister a glare and I chuckle. "Don't worry Peggy, we have been working to that end."
I stiffen at the sound of a throat clearing, a throat that is not Alexander's. Damn it.
I turn, forcing a smile and trying to recover from what was obviously overheard. "Mr. Schuyler, my pleasure, sir."
He looks at me with a face full of contempt and says, "Not mine, Mr. Laurens."
He gives a nod to Angelica and to Peggy, takes up his coat and cane from the butler, and takes his leave of the house.
"At least he is talking to you," Angelica says, placing her hand over my heart. Peggy outright laughs as I roll my eyes.
"That's what that was?" I snort in amusement and Angelica swats my shoulder.
"Woman, remember yourself, I am carrying your sister's cobbler," I reply.
Peggy's eyes widen, and Angelica's eyes narrow. "You're lucky that cobbler is in your hands right now."
"The best of wives and women," I respond cheekily but believe I will be made to pay for that statement later.
Peggy leads us to the parlor where Eliza and Alexander are waiting, Alexander vibrating with nervous energy. They look up and I place the cobbler on the table by the sofa where Eliza sits.
She perks up at the smell of it and says, "Oh, Angelica, your blackberry cobbler is always the best."
Angelica snorts and says, "Well, dear sister, I am sorry to disappoint. I did not make the cobbler this time."
"Oh," Eliza looks up in confusion, and then her eyes widen as she looks to me. "You made the cobbler?"
I reach for the back of my neck, a little embarrassed as Alexander halts mid-pace to stare at me in stunned silence.
"Well I am the reason we ate the cobbler that was meant for you yesterday, I only thought it fitting I not burden Angelica with the duty of making the replacement. I made it under her careful advisement, and I'm usually good at following orders."
"Well, it smells wonderful. We'll have some shortly," she says, her smile kind.
I kiss Angelica's cheek, "I'll leave you with your sister. Seems Alexander is in need of my company. We'll take a walk in the garden and be back in a short while."
She nods in understanding, given Alexander's state of fidgeting. I walk toward him, clap him on the back and lead him to the garden, familiar with the way to get there.
Once we are out in the garden he bursts, "John! Eliza, she's expecting! I'm… I'm going to be a father, a father!"
I chuckle. "I know, Angelica told me yesterday when I returned. Congratulations."
"It's real, her belly already has a slight swell… I… I don't know if I'm ready. I can't be like my father. I can't do that to Eliza or this baby."
I pull him into an embrace, knowing he needs the comfort. "I've never met your father, but I know that you are a far better man than he was. I doubt any man is entirely ready to be a father, but when the baby arrives you will be here, you will love that child, create the family you've always wanted, be the father you wish you'd had."
He squeezes me back hard, pulls back, and breathes in heavily, nodding, trying to convince himself. "Right… You're right, I won't be like him. I… I hope it's a son, a boy to give a legacy too, to carry my name further than I can."
"You will make a worthy legacy for him, the part you will play in establishing this country once we've won our freedom, I have no doubt your child will carry on your greatness," I reassure him.
He nods firmly, calmer, still filled with his energy, but more at ease. "What about you? Baking, sharing household responsibilities? How very domestic of you…"
I chuckle. "I vowed equity to my household when I married Angelica. It pleases her, and keeps our home peaceful so that when we do quarrel, typically over politics and our views, we can find peace swiftly from the shared domesticity in our household."
"Have you spoken of starting a family with Angelica yet?"
I smile, "Yes, actually. We spoke of it yesterday after she told me the news about Eliza."
"And?" he encourages.
"We are working on it," I reply, a grin shared between us, and while the ache is there he nods, and I appreciate his understanding, his acceptance.
"Our children will be cousins, we'll grow our family together," he says, and then he looks at me earnestly. "We have to win this war, and when we do, we will be fathers, and I will need help in building this country, addressing internal injustice…"
I look up in interest. "What are you proposing?"
"That we take care, that we both survive this war, and that you be by my side professionally, help me work with Washington to build up our nation, fight for the rights of all. There is so much that will need to get done. You're an intelligent man. I know what your father has taken from you, the chance to emancipate so many slaves, but we can find another way as we work on a constitution, creating laws to live by. Imagine a government created by we the people for the commonwealth of all. Would you stand with me in this? Together we could create a legacy for our children, imagine our names, Hamilton and Laurens, commanding respect and our children bearing that legacy, being better than we could ever hope to be, accomplishing so much?"
His vision for the future is intoxicating, providing such a legacy to our children would be our greatest accomplishment, something we can do together, our passions uniting in our work, and he wants to me be a part of this vision.
"Yes," I respond eagerly. "Together we can do this."
We clasp each other's shoulder as we shake hands, an oath between us. We share a smile of ambition, and I can tell that mind is already at work, making plans, scheming, thinking of future hustles. He pauses in his thinking, "What do you hope for first? A son, a daughter?"
I grin. "A girl to carry her mother's passion and wit, just as capable and as educated as any man. I'll do all in my power to see her as more than a socialite, a submissive debutante."
"A woman to defy the social norms of high society?" he says, considering the possibility as we continue to stroll through the garden.
I playfully bump his shoulder. "If an immigrant and disgraced, disinherited wretch can aspire to and achieve greatness, what could possibly hold back the daughter of Angelica Schuyler Laurens?"
Alexander nods, "Given her fire and what I've heard from Eliza of Angelica's latest friends and acquaintances, she is as destined for greatness as my son will be."
I grin, "Well, I shall see to her conception before declaring her destiny, but yes, our children will change the world even more than we will. They will blow us all away."
"Speaking of children," Alex says, mischief peppering his tone, not unlike when he wants to share gossip, "I have heard that Burr's lover, the one married to the British officer, is expecting as well. Last I heard her husband has been in Georgia for months."
"Oh shit," I reply, my eyes wide and then I laugh. "And to think on my wedding day he insulted my wife over the scandal of our union. Hypocrite."
"Right? What does he even stand for? Until we know with any certainty can we even decry his hypocrisy?" Alexander says, his eyes glinting with amusement as his laughter joins mine.
We're in good spirits as we return to the parlor, surprised by the presence of Mr. Schuyler having joined his daughters there. I gulp, my good spirits falling, and Alexander gives my shoulder a squeeze before moving to take his place by Eliza's side. I wrinkle my nose at him in disapproval, thought given Philip Schuyler's distaste of me, I can forgive Alexander his abandonment, after all, someone has to be Daddy Schuyler's favorite son, and that certainly will not be me.
They've already served the cobbler, two plates set aside, I assume for Alexander and me. I am amused at it appears that Schuyler seems to be enjoying his portion.
"Angelica, your skills in making cobbler are unparalleled," he compliments her.
Alex chokes on his first bite, and the sisters are amused as Angelica replies, "Actually, you should thank my husband, Daddy. He's the one that made this."
It is Philip Schuyler's turn to choke as I take a bite from the plate set aside for me. I'm amused, and after I swallow respond, "All under your daughter's tutelage, of course, sir."
"Well," he begins, clearing his throat. "It is an acceptable treat. Though it seems the baby has given Eliza quite the sweet tooth."
"So, you're excited to be a grandfather?" I ask casually, and I wince as Angelica's eyes narrow.
"Of course, children are a promise of our future, it's why we are at war for our freedom, to make a better world for them. We do our best, to accept our children, even when they are at fault of making ruinous decisions," he replies.
I can hear the "Damn…" that slips unchecked from Alex's mouth, and I press my tongue to my cheek, but having known Alexander for so long, his outspokenness influences my tongue.
"Well, I can assure that my children will have a legacy, a place of respect in the world. My daughters will be independent, free-thinking, a force to be reckoned with, and my sons will make their mark as well. This legacy will reflect on my efforts and Angelica's efforts equally. They will witness our union, the equity in our household. I am a man of my word."
My reluctant father-in-law turns sharp eyes to Angelica. "Am I to believe that you are expecting as well?"
Heat rises to Angelica's cheeks as she shoots me a glare, and from a tight smile answers, "No, Daddy, but we are considering starting a family soon."
He nods, and shifts his sharp gaze at me, "I would wish you sons rather than daughters. Willful daughters are their father's heartbreak."
"My heart is strong enough to bear it," I reply, and he nods, finishing his cobbler up, engaging in conversation with his daughters and Alexander, pointedly ignoring me as I take a seat by Angelica, and she shifts close against me as I set my finished plate on the table. Drinks are served next, water for Eliza, mimosas for Angelica and Peggy, and two fingers of whiskey for Schuyler, Alex, and me.
In hindsight, when another round of whiskey is sent for, I should have exercised caution…
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