Of course, we ladies were not to be outdone, and our gowns were like bright silk flowers of every color. Our hair was powdered and dressed high on our heads, and ornamented with silk flowers, ribbons, paste jewels, and even a plume or two. To be so expensively and stylishly attired in the middle of a war might seem to some to be wrong, even disrespectful, but as Aunt Gertrude noted, our finery could be wonderfully cheering to the spirits of the gentlemen in the army, and proof to the British that we refused to be subdued. We ladies were also in the minority, with more than three times as many gentlemen in attendance; there’d be no wallflowers tonight, that was certain.
I’d chosen my own gown with care, a brilliant silk taffeta that was neither blue nor green but a shimmering combination of both, much like a peacock’s plumage. Being small in stature, I often wore vibrant colors so I wouldn’t be overlooked in company. The sleeves and bodice were close-fitting and the skirts very full over hoops, as was the fashion then, and the neckline was cut low over my breasts, with a thin edging of lace from my shift. Around my throat was a strand of glass pearls fastened with a large white silk bow, and earrings of glittering paste jewels hung from my ears, my mother having wisely decided that the encampment was no place for fine jewels. Unlike most of the ladies, from choice I wore no paint on my face. I suspected my cheeks were rosy enough without it because of the cold and the excitement, and I also suspected that Alexander would be like other gentlemen, and prefer me without it.
At least he might once I found him. I scanned the guests eagerly, searching for the one face I longed to see above all others, but in vain. The assembly’s subscribers stood in a line near the door to greet newcomers, and as I waited my turn I continued to look for Alexander. Other gentlemen appeared to ask me for dances and though I smiled, I turned them aside. Alexander was one of the subscribers, and he’d invited me as his guest. How could he not be here?
“Where’s Hamilton, I wonder?” Kitty murmured beside me. “He’s usually one of the earliest to arrive at these affairs.”
“He’ll be here,” I said swiftly, as much to reassure myself as to defend him. “I don’t doubt him.”
Kitty smiled slyly over the spreading arc of her fan. “He’d do well to appear soon, or else some other gentleman will scoop you up, especially in that gown.”
I didn’t smile, because I’d no wish to be scooped up by anyone other than Alexander. We’d almost come to the end of the line anyway, and to my surprise the last person in it was Lady Washington, alone and without General Washington.
I had called upon Lady Washington several times since my arrival in Morristown, and she’d graciously taken a liking to me, and I to her. It would be impossible not to hold her in the highest regard: she was that rarest of ladies who could put anyone at ease in an instant, and make them feel like the oldest and dearest of friends.
She was of middle age when we met, still handsome if a bit stout, her large, dark eyes full of warmth and her speech soft with Virginia gentility. She was known for her rich taste in dress, and tonight she wore a dark green damask gown with a neckerchief of fine French lace and a magnificent garnet necklace with earrings to match.
“Miss Eliza, I am so glad that you have joined us,” she said as I curtseyed before her. “How your beauty graces our little gathering!”
“Thank you, Lady Washington,” I said, blushing with pleasure at her compliment. “You are most kind.”
She raised her gaze, frowning slightly as she studied my hair. “You are wearing the powder I gave you, yes? That slight tint of blue is so becoming to us brunette ladies.”
“Thank you, yes,” I said, my hand automatically going to my hair. She’d given me a box of her scented hair powder as a kindness, though I’d had to use a prodigious amount of it to dust my nearly black hair.
“You see I am wearing the cuffs you gave me as well,” she said, holding out her plump, small hand toward me. The ruffled cuffs were of the finest white Holland with Dresden-work scallops, sent along with me by my mother as an especial gift for the general’s wife. The cuffs were Paris-made, for although our country was under a strict embargo for foreign goods, my mother (like most ladies of the time) still had her ways of securing the little niceties of life from abroad.
“You must be sure to thank your dear mother again,” Lady Washington continued, “and please tell her how honored I am to be remembered by her.”
“I shall, Lady Washington,” I said. I took this as my dismissal, and I bowed my head and began to back away.
But she had other notions, and took my hand to keep me with her.
“A moment more, Miss Eliza, if you please,” she said. “Here I am prattling on and on, without recalling the one bit of knowledge I was entrusted to share. You note that my husband is not yet here, and I am acting in his stead. He and Colonel Hamilton have been detained on some military business, but they expect to join us as soon as it is concluded. The colonel in particular asked me to share his considerable regrets at being detained, and prays that you shall forgive him.”
I couldn’t keep from smiling broadly with relief, so broadly that Lady Washington chuckled.
“There now, I’d venture he has your forgiveness already,” she said. “You may grant it yourself directly.”
She was looking past me, and without thinking I turned to look in the same direction. The crowd rippled with excitement as His Excellency entered the room, towering over most other men with a stately presence that could command attention without a word spoken. Instead of his uniform, he wore a suit of black velvet, neatly trimmed with silver embroidery and cut-steel buttons, and in every way he epitomized how the leader of our country should look.
But I wasn’t looking at His Excellency. Instead I saw no one but the gentleman behind him, slighter and shorter by a head and yet the only one who mattered to me. He was easy to find, his red-gold hair bright like a flame, and uncharacteristically unpowdered for this formal occasion. To my gratification, Alexander was seeking me as well, and as soon as our gazes met I saw him smile and unabashed pleasure light his face, as if no other lady than I were in the room for him.
The general came forward to claim the first dance with Mrs. Lucy Knox, the wife of Major General Knox, and led her to the center of the room to open the assembly with the first minuet. The rest of the guests stood back from the floor to watch them dance with respect (and admiration, too, for together they cut an elegant figure), and as the musicians played, the general and Mrs. Knox—he so tall and lean, and she so stout—began the minuet’s elegantly measured steps.
Yet Alexander hung back and I remained with him, away from the dancing and the other guests.
He took my hand. “Pray forgive me,” he whispered, “I was with His Excellency, and the delay was unavoidable.”
“Of course you’re forgiven,” I replied. “Your orders and your duties to the army and to the country must come first. I understand, and always will.”
“You will, won’t you?” he asked, his voice rough with urgency. “You’ll understand, no matter what may happen?”
“Of course I will,” I whispered, and it seemed more like a vow, an oath, than a simple reply. “Never doubt me.”