“If His Excellency can part with you, Colonel, we would welcome you for a dish of tea,” my aunt said with what I thought was remarkable boldness. “In the evening, perhaps, after Dr. Cochran and Dr. Campfield have finished their final rounds. I’m sure they would welcome your conversation.”
I’ll credit my aunt for discretion, for that was neatly done, and I glanced quickly at my aunt in gratitude.
Colonel Hamilton smiled, and from the amusement in his eyes it was clear he, too, realized how deftly my aunt had put a gloss of respectability on her invitation. I’d be there, of course, and the colonel knew it, too, but this way none of us could be accused of being too forward.
“I shall be honored to join the gentlemen, Mrs. Cochran,” he said, bowing. “I shall do my best to attend this evening, if my duties permit.”
My aunt nodded in acquiescence and looped her arm into mine to draw me away with her. “We shall hope to see you then, Colonel Hamilton.”
“Good day, Colonel Hamilton,” I said, sorry to be leaving but realizing it was necessary.
“Good day, Mrs. Cochran, Miss Elizabeth,” he said, bowing. “And perhaps Miss Elizabeth would enjoy the conversation of the medical gentlemen as well?”
I smiled over my shoulder as we entered the room. “Perhaps, Colonel,” I said. “Perhaps.”
CHAPTER 3
I’d thought that Aunt Gertrude had been speaking lightly when she’d invited Colonel Hamilton to call upon us to converse upon the health of the army with Uncle John and Dr. Campfield. I thought it was more polite subterfuge, for the convenience of all parties. I thought it was understood that the colonel would be calling upon me, not the surgeons, and from the colonel’s parting words to me at headquarters that afternoon I was certain he believed the same.
If he did, then we both were sadly, even woefully, mistaken.
Before the evening had fair begun, I learned to my dismay that Aunt Gertrude expected me to receive the colonel in the parlor, a small room made even smaller with the presence of Dr. and Mrs. Campfield as well as my aunt and uncle, all seated in a half circle of chairs before the fire. There was a chair reserved for me at one end of the row, and another for the colonel at the opposite end, with the two of us separated as far as was possible in the small room.
Nor would I have an opportunity to play or sing to display my talents, for Mrs. Campfield possessed neither a pianoforte nor a harpsichord. Instead Aunt Gertrude handed me a skein of rough-spun wool and a set of knitting pins with the suggestion—a suggestion I’d no choice but to obey—that I begin making Monmouth caps for the poor soldiers who had none against the cold. I told myself it was the proper thing to do, that such caps were much needed and would be welcomed, that I’d be selfish to think of myself first, yet still I couldn’t help but be disappointed.
How could the colonel and I ever become better acquainted in such dismal circumstances? How was this supposed to attract a gentleman who’d had as many sweethearts as there were days in the month?
But I’d dutifully begun to cast on stitches on my needles when the colonel was announced. I looked up eagerly, for he’d arrived with a punctuality that I soon learned was his by nature. His blue uniform was freshly brushed and his boots polished, his buff-colored breeches immaculate, his hair carefully combed and his jaw newly shaved. He wore his dress sword, too, appropriate for both a warrior and a gentleman, and which was likely at his side to make me forget that I’d seen him earlier with the turkey-feather pen. It was clear that he wished to make the best impression possible on me, just as I’d tried to do the same for him.
Yet as a soldier, he understood rank and precedence, and greeted each of the others in the room first with perfect civility. I was reminded of how respectful he’d been to my father when he’d come to our house, and this, too, impressed me, perhaps even more than his dress sword. By the time he finally reached me, I was smiling warmly and happily. I never was able to play the coy coquette, no matter how it might have helped my cause.
“Good evening, Miss Elizabeth,” he said, bending slightly over my chair with one hand resting on the pommel of his sword. “Once you gave me leave to call you Betsey, but I wouldn’t presume—”
“Of course you may call me Betsey,” I said quickly, so quickly that I winced inwardly at my own lack of guile. “You’re not presuming, not at all.”
He smiled, too, and I basked in the charm of it.
“Very well, Betsey,” he said easily, as if he’d been calling me that all our lives. “What are you making?”
“I’m knitting a cap for a soldier in need,” I said, holding up my needles with only a few dozen stitches cast on. “I’ve just started.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw my aunt lean forward to draw the colonel’s attention.
“Eliza is known for her charitable acts, Colonel Hamilton,” she said, more loudly than was necessary. “In Albany, she and her mother stitch clothing for the poor, and will offer comfort and food to any needy person who appears at their kitchen door. She hasn’t been here in Morristown but a day, and yet already she has found a way to ease the suffering of the men in the camp.”
I could have groaned aloud from embarrassment. The part about Mamma and me making clothing and feeding unfortunate folk at our back door was true, but the rest was pure invention, and I rather wished my aunt hadn’t invented it.
But the colonel only nodded solemnly. “I have heard considerable praise of the Schuyler ladies, yes,” he said, answering my aunt, but looking directly at me. “There are few things to be held in higher esteem than a lady who is both kind and generous.”
I hastily lowered my gaze to the pitiful beginnings of the cap in my lap. I felt doubly, even triply, obligated to finish it now, plus a score more besides. I gathered the needles in my hands and resumed my knitting.
“You’re very kind, Colonel Hamilton,” I murmured without looking up from my work. “My mother has set the most perfect example for my sisters and me, and we all strive to emulate her goodness.”
“She is a true paragon for us all,” Aunt Gertrude said, though I couldn’t help but notice that her own hands were occupied with a china cup filled with tea. “If you please, Colonel, there is a chair for you beside my husband, who is most eager to learn of His Excellency’s latest plans for the care of the soldiers.”
My uncle’s chin jerked up swiftly like a schoolboy caught dozing at his lessons.
“Yes, yes, Colonel,” he said, patting the railed back of the empty chair. “Come tell me the news from headquarters.”
Oh, this was so patently transparent! If there were any news about the welfare of the soldiers, then my uncle, as the army’s surgeon general, would already be well aware of it.
“Yes, Colonel Hamilton,” I agreed with half a heart. “The chair beside my uncle is meant for you.”
My dismay must have shown on my face, for the colonel leaned forward again toward me, lowering his voice in a confidential tone.