“They would do that to him,” I said slowly, remembering how often these same enemies had targeted him before, and how he’d gone before Congress not once, but twice, to defend himself. “Alexander is always kindness itself. No one in need has ever been turned from our door.”
“Well, then, there you are,” Angelica said with an emphatic nod. “It’s clear enough that this slatternly creature was sent by Hamilton’s enemies to seduce him into a scandal, with the hope that it would destroy him. But they did not succeed, did they? It didn’t harm him six years ago, and it won’t now, not so long as his friends stand by him.”
“But even if they’d contrived this trap for him, Angelica, he didn’t have to agree to it,” I said, the raw pain bubbling back up inside me.
Angelica sighed deeply, her fingers squeezing around mine as she stared at the floor before her.
“There are things that men—even the best of men—do that make no sense,” she said finally. “As much as I adore your Hamilton, I cannot begin to say why he would betray you for the novelty of this Reynolds strumpet. And yet he did.”
“He did,” I echoed forlornly. Even having read Alexander’s words, even repeating them to my sister, I could still hardly accept this new truth about the one man I’d always loved.
“Yes.” She was gazing past me, her dark eyes wide but unseeing. “Have you ever thought how different our lives would have been if there hadn’t been a war, Eliza? Most likely we would have both married some dull Dutchmen, and led dull respectable lives within sight of the North River.”
“Not you,” I said through my sniffles. “You could never have been content with such a life.”
“I would have had no choice,” she mused, “and neither would you. Think of it, Eliza. If it weren’t for the war, you would never have met your Hamilton, and I would never have met my John.”
“I wish I never had met him!” I said vehemently.
“Hush, you don’t mean that,” she said. “You feel that way at this moment, but it will pass. You love Hamilton and he loves you. He is the father of your children. If it weren’t for your Hamilton and my John, we wouldn’t have known the pride, the pleasure, the endless satisfactions and frustrations large and small of sharing our lives with extraordinary men. They need us, just as we need them.”
I nodded, blotting at my tears again. From the first time Alexander and I had met, he’d been the one I’d wanted, and the one I chose. And he did need me, just as I needed him; I’d never doubted that.
I wondered if Angelica were thinking the same of Mr. Church as she sat beside me, twisting and toying with the jeweled rings on her fingers.
“But then, everything in this life comes with a price, doesn’t it?” she said, and gave me a small half smile. “If daring to love such men as we have means that we must forgive them when they stray, then . . .”
She let the sentence trail off unfinished, ambiguous and puzzling.
“Angelica,” I said, turning to face her. “Has Mr. Church ever strayed?”
Her mouth curved upward, but it couldn’t be called a smile. “In truth I do not know, Eliza. London and Paris have many temptations, and he has always been a restless man.”
I nodded, and asked no more. Even between Angelica and me, there were lines that could not be crossed.
The tall clock in the hall chimed the hour: five o’clock. From downstairs I heard William crying, fretting, and I felt the answering twinge in my breasts, heavy and aching with milk.
“I must go to the baby,” I said, beginning to rise, but Angelica placed her hand on my arm to stop me.
“You know you have a place with us as long as you require it,” she said. “Tonight, a week, a month. Stay here until you know your heart.”
*
I stayed the night in my sister’s house. I slept but little, my thoughts still too much distressed by my husband’s revelations. The next morning William roused me early, and to keep from waking the rest of the house, I took him with me into the garden. I found a bench beneath a tree and nursed him, relishing the quiet of the new day. Sun slanted bright over the brick wall, and dewdrops hung like diamonds in the lawn. My head ached and my eyes were swollen from weeping, but at least here, with my little son at my breast, I’d some semblance of peace.
Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t hear Alexander enter the garden until he was standing directly before me, his hat in his hand. Despite the early hour, he was neatly dressed and clean-shaven, but from the shadows beneath his eyes, I knew he’d slept no better than I. We’d often been apart on account of his business and other journeys, but last night had been the first in our marriage when we’d been in the same city, yet had not slept together beneath the same roof.
I watched him warily, and I said nothing by way of greeting, leaving it for him to speak first. I hadn’t wanted him here, not yet, and I felt almost trapped by his presence.
“Good day, madam.” He bowed deeply. “How is your health this morning?”
“Not as it should be, Colonel,” I answered. If he wished to keep that distance of formality between us, then so would I. “I slept ill, having received grievous news yesterday.”
“I am sorry, deeply sorry, for that,” he said, “For that, and for everything else. I’ve no right so much as to beg for your forgiveness.”
His entire expression and posture showed his sorrow and regret, but it wasn’t enough, not after what he’d done. I didn’t answer, leaving the emptiness to be filled by the chattering of the birds in the tree overhead and the little mewling sound of contentment from our son at my breast.
He nodded as if I’d answered, and I suppose by my silence I had.
“I have taken the liberty of booking passage for you and our daughter to Albany on tomorrow’s sloop,” he said. “I guessed that you would wish to be away from town with your parents when the pamphlet is published, and that you would find comfort in having our daughter with you.”
I understood that he hadn’t included our daughter simply for my comfort, but to remove her as well from the shameful uproar that would doubtless greet the pamphlet. It was meant to be thoughtful, the consideration of a father for his daughter’s tender feelings. Yet where had that consideration and regard been six years before? What did it matter now, when the damage was already done? My eyes stung with tears, and I blinked them back.
He nodded again and cleared his throat, and I thought of how rare it was for the great Colonel Hamilton to be without words.
William had finished his meal, sated and drowsy. I wiped the last milky bubbles from his lips with the corner of his blanket and put him to my shoulder so I could pat his back. Alexander watched, his expression full of the same love and wonder that he showed toward all our children.
“Might I hold him?” he asked humbly, as if he fully expected me to refuse.
After a moment, I held the baby out to him.