I, Eliza Hamilton

He paused his pacing again, and tipped his head to one side to look at me. The moonlight caught the curl of his hair beneath the brim of his hat, like a flame against the dusky sky.

“Not when compared to larger, more organized campaigns, no,” he admitted, finally sounding a fraction more reasonable. “Yet every action, large or small, has its use in deciding a final victory.”

“But even the general accepts that there is a season for battle, and a season for rest.” I kept my voice logical yet soothing, too, knowing from experience that was what would calm him. “The letters you now write for the general, the plans you make for the army for the spring on his behalf, are far more important than any random encounter in the Carolina wilderness.”

“But there’s no glory in it, Betsey,” he said, his earlier impatience now fading into a sadness that touched my heart. “You know I’m a poor man, without family or fortune. I’ve made no secret of that with you.”

“But consider how far you have come on your own,” I said, “and how much you have already achieved.”

“It’s scarcely a beginning,” he said. “I need to make my name for myself now, during the war, and that I can’t do scrivening away at a desk. I cannot gain any measure of fame unless I return to the battlefield, and yet because I have no familial influence of my own, I will never be advanced to a higher command.”

“You have friends,” I said softly, trying not to think of what Kitty had told me earlier. “Important friends, in the army and in Congress. Friends who appreciate your talents, and regard you as you deserve. All will come to you in time. I’m sure of that.”

“In time, in time, in time,” he repeated in despondent singsong. “What if I can’t wait, Betsey? What if you can’t? I want to be worthy of you, and yet I have nothing of any value to offer you.”

“Oh, Alexander,” I said. “You have so very much to offer to me! You’re brave and honorable and kind and clever, with a hundred other qualities besides. You have grand ideas and dreams that only you have the power to make real. You could never raise your sword against the enemy again, and still I’d be the one who wasn’t worthy of you.”

“My dear Betsey.” He smiled, a weary smile, yes, but a smile nonetheless. “No wonder you’ve become so dear to me, and so indispensable, too. I do not think I could bear this winter without you. You’re my very Juno, filled with the wisest counsel, combined with the beauty of Venus herself.”

“You say such things.” I smiled, too, but uncertainly. I knew he’d just paid me a compliment, but unlike Angelica, I’d no aptitude for scholarly endeavors, and I was never quite sure what he meant when he spoke of ancient goddesses.

“I do indeed,” he said, finally coming to stand close to me. “And you are cold, aren’t you? Let me warm you.” He wrapped his arms around me and drew me close, folding me inside the dark wings of his heavy wool greatcoat. I went to him and snugged next to his chest as if I’d found my true home. I felt safe and protected with his arms around me and my cheek against his chest, and so contented that I could not keep back an unconscious sigh of pure joy.

He chuckled, and drew me closer. “Sweet girl,” he said. “You thought you’d come here to dance, not to shiver in the moonlight with me.”

I tipped my head back to see his face. I’d been so occupied with our conversation that I’d nearly forgotten about the dance, and with his reminder I was again aware of the music coming faintly from the assembly within the storehouse. The minuet was long past done. What I heard now was an allemande, and I wondered how many other dances had been danced since we’d left the assembly. By now our absence must have been noted—I doubt I’d ever escape Kitty’s sharp eyes—but I didn’t care. This time alone with him was worth any price.

“I’ve never seen a moon such as this,” I said breathlessly, turning a bit in his arms to better see the sky. “It’s like magic, isn’t it? A full moon wrought from silver, there in the sky.”

His hands had settled familiarly around my waist above the whalebone arc of my hoops, and just that slight pressure of his palms against my sides was making my heart beat faster.

“You should see how the moon glows in the sky over Nevis,” he said. “There’s no magic involved, but a phenomenon caused by the island being so close to the equator. It’s every bit as bright as this, with the brilliance reflected and magnified by the sea below it.”

“Truly?” I said, trying to imagine what he described. “You make it sound very beautiful.”

“Oh, it is,” he assured me, but the way he said it made me think perhaps it wasn’t. “A sight worthy of the finest poets.”

He fell quiet, gazing up at the moon. He almost never mentioned the island where he’d been born, and I longed to know his thoughts.

“Does this make you wish to return home?” I asked. “The moon, I mean.”

“Nevis is no longer my home,” he said bluntly, “and I never wish to return. If I’d remained there, I would by now be dead. It’s the way of that place.”

The sadness in his voice was heartbreaking. “But you’re here now,” I said. “Beneath an American moon, not a Nevis one.” I turned around to face him again, and placed my palms lightly on his chest. My right hand rested over his heart, something I didn’t realize until after I’d done it.

“You shall do wonderful things, Alexander,” I said fiercely, gazing up at him. “I’m sure of it. You are a man born to do great things. I only pray that I’ll be there to see you do them.”

Suddenly he smiled, and so warmly that I forgot I’d ever been cold. “You pray a great deal, Betsey.”

“I’ve prayed for you ever since that first night, exactly as I promised,” I said, my fingers spreading over the front of his waistcoat. “My prayers have been answered, too.”

“Perhaps mine have as well.” He reached up to cradle my jaw with one hand, gently turning my face up toward his. “You’re kind and generous and tender to a fault, especially where my wretched self is concerned. Have I told you that you’re beautiful as well?”

“You have,” I said playfully. “But I will listen if you choose to tell me again.”

He chuckled. “You are beautiful, dearest, surpassing beautiful and unmercifully handsome, and I’ll never tire of telling you that pretty truth. You have so addled my wits that the other night when I returned to headquarters from seeing you, I could not recall the password. Of course the sentry knew me, the dog, but he wouldn’t let me pass until Mrs. Ford’s boy rescued me with the proper word. That’s all your doing, Miss Elizabeth.”

I laughed, picturing him foundering at the front door before a grave-faced guard. “You cannot fault me for that!”

“I can, when it’s the truth.” His smile faded. “You speak of the future as if you can foresee what it holds. You’re so wise, perhaps you can. Do you know how honored I’d be to have you beside me in that future, Betsey? To know you’d be with me always, as you are now?”

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