“A half dozen, I believe,” Aunt Gertrude said. “They are all part of what His Excellency refers to as his military family, and a close-knit family they are, too, with him of course as the father. But Colonel Hamilton is the one held in highest regard, with the most responsibility. I wonder that His Excellency could accomplish half of what he does without the colonel by his side. That’s Mrs. Ford’s house, there, the large white one before us on the hill.”
It would have been difficult to overlook. The house was large and imposing, nearly as large as our Albany house, and by far the largest that I’d yet seen in Morristown. It was two stories with tall chimneys at either end, and an ell to one side where I guessed the kitchen stood. The doorway was elegant indeed, with a prettily arched door flanked by rich carvings and pilasters, and a half-moon window above and two more on either side. Nearby were a number of rough log huts that quartered the general’s Life Guard, his most trusted soldiers in charge of protecting him, and to the rear of the house were several more log buildings, squat and temporary.
But what I noticed first was the bustle of activity around the house, like a bee skep surrounded by swarms of the busiest of bees coming and going. Soldiers and horses, wagons and sleds and sleighs, and all of them moving briskly on the army’s business. The cold air was filled with the sounds of orders given, of barked conversations, and the jingle of harnesses and the creak of wooden wheels over the packed snow. There were several small fires with men clustered about them for warmth, and bright flags on staffs that proclaimed that this was in fact the army’s headquarters.
We climbed down from our sleigh before the house, and I followed my aunt up the steps to the sentry. Among so many dark cloaks and uniforms, I felt like a gaudy parrot in my bright clothes. I also felt acutely female in the midst of so many men, and though I held my head high and pretended to take no notice, I sensed every eye upon me as I stood there on the whitewashed steps, my skirts swaying in the breeze and the bright ribbons of my hat dancing around my face. I might be short, but no one was overlooking me now.
The sentry recognized my aunt, and mercifully we were soon ushered inside the house. But the wide hallway was likewise filled with men as well as the same bustle, with a scattering of tradesmen and waiters hurrying among them. The Washingtons’ personal servants stood out among the others, for they were all Negroes, and wore the red and white livery of Mount Vernon, His Excellency’s mansion in Virginia. Yet every man, white and black, stepped aside to open a path for my aunt and me to pass, bowing and lifting their hats to us as well. It was respectful, I suppose, especially since I was sure that the word had moved swiftly among them that I was General Schuyler’s daughter, but I was still happy to be ushered up the stairs to the door of the single room that formed the Washingtons’ private quarters.
A neatly dressed black woman in a linen cap (doubtless another of the Washingtons’ servants, who had traveled north with them) told us Lady Washington would receive us in a moment. My aunt sat on the bench beneath the hall window, but I preferred to stand, glancing into the room across the hall. Once another bedchamber for the Ford family, it now appeared to be an officers’ barracks with a half dozen small camp beds, each with its own low-arched linen canopy, and the owner’s belongings stacked neatly beneath. To me it looked more like a children’s nursery than a room for grown gentlemen, and I craned my neck a bit farther from curiosity, amusing myself by imagining the men all tucked snug beneath their coverlets for the night.
“Miss Elizabeth?”
It had been over two years, but I recognized that voice immediately. Startled, I turned about, and there before me was Colonel Hamilton.
He stood with a sheaf of papers beneath his arm, doubtless important orders and letters from His Excellency’s desk, and tucked into the top buttonhole of his coat was a gray and black pen cut from a turkey’s quill. He’d aged since I’d seen him last, more manly, his blue uniform more neatly tailored and his boots polished and gleaming. His hair was sleeked back in a tidy queue that couldn’t quite contain its fiery red-gold, and his gaze was keen with the intelligence—and the warmth—that I remembered. To me he looked like a man who carried great responsibility and trust with ease and confidence, exactly the sort of man a commander-in-chief would rely upon. But then, I’d sensed that when we’d met before, an intangible quality that made me long to trust him as well.
I cannot say how long it took me to make this studied appraisal, for it seemed as if time itself had ceased to matter as I stood before him. Yet somehow I managed to recover my wits, and dipped a quick but graceful curtsey to him even as he bowed to me, and to Aunt Gertrude as well.
“Good day, Colonel Hamilton,” I murmured. “I trust you are well.”
“Very well, Miss Elizabeth, very well indeed,” he said, and I realized he’d been studying me just as I’d been doing with him. “And you?”
“Quite well,” I said, smiling, “and grateful that my journey here is done.”
“Oh, I’m sure of that,” he said. “Travel is never easy at this time of the year. But changes of scenery and diversion afforded by travel must agree with you, Miss Elizabeth. If I might be permitted, I’d say that you are looking not only quite well, but even more beautiful than I recall.”
“Thank you, Colonel,” I said, not objecting at all. The bright colors of my attire had done what I’d hoped, and I pointed playfully at the pen in his buttonhole. “I admire your turkey-standard.”
He frowned, not understanding at first, and then sheepishly pulled the pen from the buttonhole. “I fear that it’s the standard of my lowly position here as a clerk,” he said ruefully, twisting the quill between his fingers. “Hardly the field of glory, is it?”
Too late I recalled how much he’d longed for battle, and chafed beneath his current duties for the general.
“The fields are all covered in snow at present, Colonel,” I said softly, repairing my unfortunate jest as best I could. “It’s hardly the season for glory, and I am sure that the work you do here for His Excellency is of great importance. Spring will come soon enough, and opportunities with it.”
“You are kind, Miss Elizabeth,” he said. His gaze locked with mine, the warmth of it wonderfully intense, and I thought this the finest compliment I’d ever received from a gentleman.
To our right, the door to Lady Washington’s room opened, and her servant reappeared to usher us inside.
“Excuse us, Colonel,” said my aunt as she rose and came to stand beside me, “but as you can see, Lady Washington expects us.”
“Of course, Mrs. Cochran,” he said, stepping back to let her pass, yet still looking at me.
My aunt smiled broadly. “My niece is residing with me at Dr. Campfield’s house, Colonel, between here and the town.”
“I know it well, Mrs. Cochran,” he said with a small bow to her while still not looking away from me.